Chapter 10: Dark-Skinned Rugged Honest Man 10

This was Qi Yu’s first time stepping into Jiang Rang’s room, though it wasn’t the first time he had seen it.

Compared to the slightly distorted footage on the surveillance monitor, the dimly yellow light here carried a faint warmth. The white-painted desk was piled high with books, and the notebook bore the master’s clumsy handwriting scrawled across its pages.

On the nightstand sat the bell ornament, alongside a water cup, a simple little lamp, and all sorts of small trinkets that the thrifty master couldn’t bear to part with.

The modest little room felt all the warmer for it, effortlessly conjuring thoughts of “home” and “everyday life.”

But Qi Yu had no heart for lingering on such details, no desire to touch or examine them.

Right now, the omega’s full attention was locked on the room’s owner, sprawled across the bed.

The poor honest man lay flat on the pristine white sheets, his usually sharp, handsome features flushed red. Fine beads of sweat dotted his wheat-toned forehead, while faint veins throbbed at his temples. Deep down, the beta clung to the most old-fashioned ideals—even in the face of overwhelming desire, all he could do was grit his teeth and swallow hard, holding back.

He tried to suppress it. To endure. To deny it.

But his body had other ideas.

The black suit jacket had already been yanked open in a fit of desperation by its owner, leaving the bulging, engorged muscles beneath his white dress shirt on full display.

The beta teetered on the brink. His strong, straight legs splayed wide, the fabric of his suit pants straining at the seams. His rough-hewn wrists trembled uncontrollably, veins standing out in stark relief.

Lost in the haze, he groped for some way to calm himself, to pull back from the edge.

But this green, inexperienced young man had no clue how to escape the prison of his own lust. All he could do was arch his rigid spine and thrash about in a frantic bid for release.

Dim yellow light bathed his healthy, flushed honey-brown body in an intimate glow, the very air thick enough to wring out droplets of raw yearning.

Qi Yu stared for what felt like ages—or maybe just a heartbeat.

His mind throbbed as if cleaved by a knife’s edge, the agony so fierce it turned his eyes bloodshot, veined with something almost terrifying. Over and over, he replayed the sight of those filthy hands groping Jiang Rang.

Such pale, delicate fingers—like they’d bruise and yield sweet juice at the slightest squeeze. Nothing like his own hands.

His gaze, dark with gloom, dropped to his wrists.

Pale. Ugly. Gaunt and twisted. Faded scars lingered, ugly still despite the years.

A bonfire roared to life in his skull. The man’s face drained to a deathly ashen hue, his black hair coiling around his ears and cheeks like serpents. His crimson lips parted as if ready to spew forth black blood.

Beneath the lamplight, the tall shadow by the bedside bent low, puppetlike.

It merged slowly with the young man on the bed.

His straight, cool locks curled at the touch of the white sheets. The omega’s face—perpetually pallid and lifeless—now bloomed with a sickly pink flush. His downcast eyes fixed on the beta, lost in turmoil, ringed red in near-pitiable fashion.

Plagued by pain, sickness, hunger, and shame, he bowed his noble head. With lips brimming over with want, he pursued a beta the world dismissed as worthless, ridiculous, mere specks of dust.

Soft kisses enveloped, swirled, suckled.

All the torment seemed shrouded beneath a sheet of transparent film. For a moment, Qi Yu imagined himself a dodder vine, twining desperately onto Jiang Rang for sustenance.

Clinging for life. For hope. For love.

The beta’s eyes squeezed shut, his ragged breaths coming faster in his disarray. Frustrated instinct drove him to seize the waist of the shadow atop him. Like a small beast on the verge of drowning, the young man mauled the slender man above him with primal, biting savagery.

Powerful honey-brown muscles pressed against the omega’s pale pink skin in contrasts that bordered on the erotic.

The kiss left them both gasping for air.

The long-haired man fought to still the tremors of excitement rippling through him. Like soothing a child, he trailed gentle fingertips over the beta’s burning cheek, his eyes shimmering with affection and possession.

“Easy now, easy,” he murmured. “It’s all yours. I’m yours.”

Perhaps some fragment pierced the youth’s foggy mind. True to form, he held back.

The aloof male master’s face softened with desire’s warmth as his long, elegant fingers eased open the beta’s already slipping white shirt.

What lay revealed was a physique too lush, too sensual: muscles sheened with a thin film of sweat, healthy honeyed skin aglow with feverish red. Overheated, no doubt—the tip of his tongue peeked out, saliva glossing his full lips to a plump, luscious shine.

Qi Yu could no longer hold back. Like some kind of pervert, he buried his head to savor the sensation.

A sharp, stinging pull suddenly yanked at his scalp. The young man’s slightly rough, broad palm instinctively seized the man’s black hair, dragging his head backward.

The gesture was utterly crude, but Qi Yu savored it nonetheless, squinting in pleasure as fine beads of sweat glistened across half his cheek.

“A Liu… A Liu…”

The disheveled youth’s voice trembled faintly as he suppressed it. His eyes fluttered open in a haze, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Abruptly, he released his controlling grip and instead clasped the hand tenderly, as if linking with the intimate lover of his imagination.

The beta swallowed hard, his dazed eyes burning red. In a hoarse, unreasoning murmur, he said, “A Liu… A Liu, is that you?”

All of Qi Yu’s movements froze in an instant. His face drained to a ghostly pallor, twisting into something almost terrifying. Beneath his half-discarded clothes, his pale back shuddered violently.

His head hung low, eyelids twitching unnaturally. His slender, knuckled fingers clenched Jiang Rang’s sweat-soaked shirt, his voice as faint as drifting mist. “Jiang Rang, who are you calling?”

The youth offered no reply. His wet eyes seemed fixed on Qi Yu, yet gazed right through him to someone else.

Qi Yu’s endurance shattered. He leaned forward, his cold, bluish wrist lightly pinching the vein-bulging neck. The man’s hoarse voice sharpened to a near shriek.

“Who am I? Who are you thinking of?”

“Hah… haa… A Liu, I love—cough…” The pressure on his neck tightened mercilessly.

“Have you done it with him?”

The youth parted his lips in confusion, but before a word could escape, a pair of icy lips sealed them forcefully.

Qi Yu released his grip in a sudden jerk. As if struck by some unbearable stimulus, he stumbled off the bed. One hand clamped over his forehead; heedless of his disheveled clothes, he dialed the butler.

“Mr.?”

“Jiang Rang’s been drugged. Bring the doctor to his room. Don’t let anyone else see.” The long-haired man kept his head bowed, his face a blank mask.

With that, Qi Yu hurled the phone to the floor, where it shattered.

He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, nails digging deep enough to draw blood. Tears welled endlessly from his reddened eyes, yet his expression remained utterly devoid of emotion.

By the time the butler arrived with the doctor at Jiang Rang’s room, there was no sign of anyone extra. The modestly sized space was spotless and orderly. The youth on the bed had lapsed into a semi-comatose state. Everything was serene, as if no second person had ever set foot inside.

~~~

Jiang Rang had no idea what had transpired that day. But ever since the banquet, Qi Yu had stayed away from the Li Family Villa for an entire week.

The youth was usually inseparable from the Male Master, so this felt almost like a deliberate cold war.

The honest beta, of course, noticed nothing amiss. He carried on with his duties as methodically as ever. A flicker of puzzlement and worry had crossed his mind at first, but he knew his place all too well.

The Male Master’s words from his very first day still rang clear: He was a servant hired by the main household, expected only to follow orders. He shouldn’t pry into matters that didn’t concern him. People of their stature prized their privacy above all.

It was the end of the month, and Jiang Rang received his first paycheck from working in the city.

The wage was impressively generous, but after pulling out his notebook for some careful calculations, he realized it still fell short. There were his dad’s medical bills and A Liu’s, plus household essentials that ate up cash—not to mention the fees for hiring someone to look after them. Every expense added up.

Jiang Rang tucked a tiny portion of the bills into the snakeskin bag under his bed, then took the rest and requested a half-day off to head to the market.

Juecheng was mostly a haven for the wealthy, centered around exorbitantly priced malls.

Fortunately, the youth had done his homework beforehand. There were markets for ordinary folk too—places where goods might not match the luxury stock but were cheap and sturdy enough.

He spent a long while selecting items with care, mostly gifts and supplements for Hang Liu and his dad. Before long, his arms were laden with bags.

Along the way, Jiang Rang passed a clothing store. A well-posed mannequin modeled a sleek black trench coat, perfectly tailored to its frame. For some reason, the beta’s thoughts drifted to Qi Yu, who favored black.

Qi Yu was a natural clotheshorse. Setting aside his brooding, chilling aura, his bearing and features were exceptional—even drab black came alive on him.

Hang Liu had been frail since birth, his frame slender in a way that echoed Qi Yu’s. And with A Liu’s refined, gentle features, he’d look like the dashing male lead from some TV drama if he wore that coat.

The thought took hold, and the thrifty beta—who never spared a dime for himself—didn’t hesitate. Price be damned, he decided to buy it.

But when it came time to pay, the shopkeeper looked troubled and explained that the outfit was out of stock. The one on display outside had already been reserved by someone else. If he truly wanted it, he’d have to wait a little longer.

Jiang Rang hesitated for a moment. Thinking of the pitiful handful of threadbare old clothes in Hang Liu’s wardrobe, he agreed.

He left the Villa District address and told the shopkeeper to deliver it there once it arrived.

After mailing off the gift, the letter, and the money together, Jiang Rang finally let out a small sigh of relief. By then, night had already fallen. The post office was quite a distance from the Villa District, so Jiang Rang instinctively pulled out the newest phone Master had given him. He checked the time, scrolled through his messages, and then hurried back on his way.

To save time, Jiang Rang didn’t take the main road. Instead, he cut through a shortcut that someone had mentioned to him before.

The path was close to the Civilian District, so the streetlights were old and poorly maintained, casting only a faint glow. The ground was uneven, pocked with shallow puddles of muddy water.

Jiang Rang navigated it with ease. Back in the countryside, dirt roads were far worse—after a heavy rain, the paths along the fields could wash away entirely.

The roadside lights flickered dimly, as if they might wink out at any moment, and the alley ahead was swallowed in pitch blackness. The young man paused briefly before quickening his steps and plunging in.

Jiang Rang had sharp eyesight and hadn’t stumbled once along the way. But as he rounded the corner, a chill wind carried the thick, dizzying stench of blood straight to him.

The beta’s heart sank. He turned to flee, but in his panic, he caught the faint, feeble cry of an animal.

“Woof…”

Jiang Rang froze in place. He cursed under his breath, suddenly recalling the news story he’d heard recently about animal abuse.

With a sigh, the young man knew he couldn’t just pretend he hadn’t heard it.

The tall beta forced himself to slow down, taking soft steps forward.

A cool night breeze scattered the clouds veiling the moon, and dim moonlight suddenly bathed the alley.

Only then could Jiang Rang see clearly—

There was no pitiful injured little dog.

It was a gravely wounded alpha. The air hung heavy with the scent of blood, mingled with the aggressively potent aroma of White Tea Pheromones. Yet because of the man’s weakened state, it came off as little more than empty posturing.

The alpha looked utterly wretched. His head hung low, his outer clothes caked in blood and mud. He was curled up in the corner against the wall, his tensed wrists and ankles apparently sliced open by some sharp blade. In the shadows, the bloody flesh even revealed glimpses of pale bone and tendon.

As if sensing the unfamiliar footsteps, the alpha’s faint whimpers cut off. But Jiang Rang could still hear a low, rumbling growl from deep in his throat—like the sound an animal makes when it’s on edge.

Jiang Rang couldn’t simply look away. But just as his soft heart prompted him to take another step forward, the alpha in the corner jerked his head up. His beautiful yet clouded black eyes burned with wariness and fear. From his mouth came fierce, warning barks of “Woof! Woof!” as his body trembled and curled in even tighter.

Under the moonlight, the alpha’s haphazardly cut hair looked filthy and matted. Yet even covered in wounds and grime, that face retained an undeniable handsomeness and noble bearing.

Jiang Rang stood stunned. His eyes locked on the man, his lips parting and closing soundlessly, at a complete loss for words.

Who else could this alpha be but Chen Jingxu?