Chapter 40 Part 2

Sure enough, spotting Lin Yichu, Liang Wangyou carefully shoved the cake into Wen Yan’s hands. He looked up and said, “Grandpa Lin, I didn’t know you were here. Wait, I’ll get yours!” With that, he scampered off—thud thud thud—only to return moments later with another plate, which he handed to Lin Yichu. Panting from the two round trips, he showed no hint of complaint. Instead, he hugged Wen Yan’s leg tight, beaming with joy.

“Happy birthday, Little You.” Lin Yichu had brought a gift when he first arrived, but the boy was so sweet, calling him Grandpa and huffing up and down the stairs with cake. Lin Yichu wore no other jewelry—just the tail ring Wen Zecheng had given him upon his promotion. After a moment’s thought, he slipped it off and offered it to Liang Wangyou.

The tail ring was set with a golden-green transformation stone, a gem renowned for its dramatic color shifts—dazzling yet understated. Right now, its smooth, lustrous surface caught only faint glimmers of light.

“Grandpa Lin, you already gave me a gift,” Liang Wangyou said, standing ramrod straight. “Thank you, but I can’t accept this.”

Wen Yan ruffled his hair. “What a good boy.”

Lin Yichu’s gaze softened as he tucked it into the pocket of Liang Wangyou’s suit jacket. “Keep it as a memento.”

Wen Zecheng had died without leaving a thing behind—not even a final word. Wen Yan sometimes wondered if he was truly gone, but he could never bring himself to ask Liang Shijing. It was the man’s sore spot.

“Thank you, Grandpa.” Liang Wangyou’s little face clouded with worry. “When’s your birthday? I want to give you a gift too.”

“Grandpa’s too old,” Lin Yichu said, his eyes distant. “Not many birthdays left, so I don’t celebrate anymore.”

“You’re fibbing! You can have lots more!”

Wen Yan smiled as he listened to the old man and the child bicker over just how many “lots” really meant. Eventually, Lin Yichu grew tired and headed home. Unsure if Liang Shijing knew the ring’s origins, Wen Yan decided to tell Liang Wangyou, “Don’t mention the gift from Grandpa Lin to your father, okay?”

“But Wen Yan, I want to give it to you,” Liang Wangyou said, pulling out the ring.

Stunned, Wen Yan took it gently. It warmed in his palm, and his eyes grew hot. He tucked the ring safely into his pocket, then crouched down. “Baby, I have a gift for you too.”

“Wen Yan, you called me Baby!” Liang Wangyou lit up with delight. “Am I your baby?!”

“Yes. Of course you are.”

Like an eager calf, Liang Wangyou barreled into his arms, wriggling with happiness before obediently closing his eyes. Wen Yan pulled out the diamond necklace and fastened it around the boy’s neck, giving it a gentle stroke. The purpose that had brought him back to the Capital—so long delayed—had finally been fulfilled. With this weight off his heart, Wen Yan felt truly at peace.

Liang Wangyou turned the object over and over in his hands. “Is this a key?!” His manner was uncannily like Liang Shijing’s that night in the car, fiddling with the cufflinks—except Little Alpha had a much sweeter mouth. “Wen Yan, what is this for? Did you buy it just to give to me? It’s so pretty. I love it so much. Wen Yan, I love you!”

“I love you too.” Wen Yan’s eyes curved into smiles.

“Hmm… Is this the key to the safe room in your bedroom?”

Little Alpha was sharp. It was indeed a key, and it unlocked what was indeed a “safe.” When he turned eighteen, someone would contact him and explain how to use it. Wen Yan asked if he liked it, and Liang Wangyou lost his mind with delight. He threw his arms around him and planted two big kisses on his lips, then shyly clung to his neck and burrowed into his chest. “Wen Yan, when are you going to… you know…”

“Hm? What?” Wen Yan blinked in confusion.

“You know, that thing. I didn’t smell it that day…” Liang Wangyou fidgeted, deeply conflicted. He’d been secretly hoping Wen Yan would reveal his true identity today, so he could finally call him Daddy out loud and proud. But Wen Yan said nothing. Liang Wangyou racked his brains and decided it must be because Wen Yan disliked Liang Shijing. What a lousy father Liang Shijing was—even his own wife couldn’t stand him. In the end, Liang Wangyou made up his mind: he would drag Wen Yan to confront Liang Shijing right now and make the man reflect on his mistakes immediately!

“Wen Yan, let’s go find Father!” Liang Wangyou said, his big eyes sparkling with mischief.

“He’s here?” Wen Yan glanced around in surprise.

“He got here super early, but he didn’t come inside. He’s been out on the terrace smoking this whole time.”

“You’re saying your father is smoking? Didn’t he quit?”

“Only on the sly, when he’s stressed.” Liang Wangyou shook his head with exaggerated gravity.

Wen Yan chuckled. Fine, then. Let’s go find that tightfisted alpha and have a proper talk to lift his spirits. He took Liang Wangyou’s hand and led him down from the shadowed stairwell corner, through an empty corridor, until they neared the terrace. The glass doors were transparent, and far off in the night, Liang Shijing stood with a thin trail of blue smoke curling from his fingertips.

“Little You, when we get there, tell him smoking is bad for his health,” Wen Yan instructed, halting and nudging Liang Wangyou to take point.

“He’s super healthy right now,” Liang Wangyou said, puzzled.

“He’s fine now, but smoking will slowly wreck his body and make him feel awful. He got better after quitting last time. If he starts again, it’ll go right back to being bad.”

“Then let it be bad,” Liang Wangyou replied.

“…” Wen Yan scratched his earlobe. “You wouldn’t feel sorry for him if he got sick?”

Liang Wangyou shook his head again, paused to think, and asked, “Wen Yan, would you?”

“Probably not…” Wen Yan mumbled evasively.

They pushed open the glass door, and a sweltering night breeze washed over their faces. After a few steps, Wen Yan spotted another door beside the terrace swing open. An omega stumbled out clutching a wine glass, looking unsteady on his feet—likely from too much drink. Wen Yan froze, not daring to take another step. This was the Deputy Prime Minister’s son. As he debated slipping away, the omega lurched toward Liang Shijing.

At about five meters from Liang Shijing, the man turned and barked an order not to approach. Startled, the omega dropped his glass and bent to retrieve it, oblivious to the laser red dot that had settled on his back—square on his heart, the sniper’s mark.

Wen Yan read Liang Shijing’s lips: he was telling the omega to get lost. But the omega was genuinely drunk. He lurched to his feet again and kept stumbling forward.

No chief in history ever yielded ground to a drunkard, and this omega had been far too reckless, downing so much at an event like this. The Chief Bodyguard Corps’ ironclad rule: approach within three seconds without good reason, and you get executed on the spot. Who could say if he was faking it to get close? Still, everyone who’d entered the banquet hall tonight had been frisked, so the sniper merely grazed his arm in warning. The impact still hurled the omega backward; he hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Wen Yan stood stunned. So people really did get shot for getting too close to Liang Shijing. How had he managed to knock so easily on Oak Bay’s door that rainy night six years ago?

Liang Shijing heard Liang Wangyou’s gasp of shock and turned. Wen Yan watched his brows furrow instantly, though he couldn’t fathom why. The omega hadn’t done anything wrong—he was just sprawled on the ground, moaning in pain.

“What smell? It’s so cloying,” Liang Wangyou suddenly said, wrinkling his nose.

In their line of sight, Liang Shijing strode swiftly toward them, shouting unusually loudly, “Don’t…”

Wen Yan stood rooted, not daring to move. Don’t what? Don’t come closer? He learned the reason soon enough: the wind carried a thick, syrupy-sweet aroma. It was the pheromones of an omega in heat. The omega hadn’t been drunk after all—he’d gone into sudden heat, explaining his unsteady gait. It shouldn’t have been an issue, but the gunshot had torn open his arm. Blood poured out, releasing the pheromones within.

Wen Yan shrewdly guessed Liang Shijing had meant “don’t breathe,” but by now, it hardly mattered. Any omega who caught the scent of one in full heat would be triggered into their own. Electricity surged wildly through his body, his gland hammering like a frantic drumbeat inside. His legs buckled without his control; his fingertips quivered.

He glanced instinctively at Liang Wangyou and yanked his hand free. The boy was too young to be affected. Liang Shijing had likely spotted it early and escaped unscathed. Wen Yan stared vacantly as the man approached, shrugging off his suit jacket to drape it over him before scooping him up in his arms.

Troops poured onto the terrace, evacuating the omega and securing the scene.

The jacket shrouded Wen Yan from chest to face; he couldn’t see a thing. His mind flickered between lucidity and fog. The alpha’s footsteps pounded urgently as he carried him to the car, murmuring that they were going home, not to be afraid.

The black convoy tore down the empty, verdant road. Even after the accompanying medical team injected the omega with suppressants, he remained locked in forced heat, his mind a blur. At first cradled securely in the alpha’s arms, now he clung to the alpha’s neck of his own accord, rubbing his fever-hot cheek against the alpha’s cool forehead.

By the time they returned to Oak Bay, the injected suppressant began to take effect. Wen Yan’s mind cleared just a little. He pushed Liang Shijing’s hand away and stumbled out of the car, staggering back to his own room. Still not fully lucid, he comforted himself that the forced heat period was brief—it would pass after one night. It would just be a little hard to endure…

“Go get some rest. I can handle it myself,” Wen Yan said, his cheeks flushed as he gripped the door handle. With great politeness, he added, “Thank you. Don’t smoke anymore. Rest early. Good night.”

His words were courteous and distant, as if he had no need at all for the alpha’s help. With that, he shut the bedroom door. Not even the doctors, who were rushing to prepare certain auxiliary tools, had a chance to arrive…

Night gradually deepened…

Three full hours had passed since the omega had entered his heat. All the while, the alpha stood outside the door, waiting for the omega to emerge in search of him—or to need him. But after three hours… there was no sign from the omega at all. The small box holding the auxiliary tools sat at the alpha’s feet. Suddenly, he kicked it aside, twisted open the door, and stepped inside.

The deeper he ventured, the brighter the moonlight grew, and the clearer the faint moans became.

Rounding the corner, a shaft of silvery light fell upon the soft bedcovers. Even whiter than the moonlight was a slender leg that kept bending and dropping rhythmically. Locked around the ankle was a thin iron chain, taken from the swing chair on the balcony. The chain was secured tightly to the bedpost at the foot of the bed…

So that was why the omega hadn’t come out—he couldn’t.

Thus, the alpha approached at a leisurely pace…