The rain continued to fall, the hazy moon hidden behind dark clouds.
As the door was pushed open from outside, the faint light lingering on the golden teak door panels shattered. Bright light instantly filled the entire study. Liang Shijing walked toward the desk while flipping through documents.
“Although the test report shows that the pheromone concentration exceeds normal levels, there are no other abnormalities!” Hu Li followed behind, both surprised and delighted. “However, we still need to release pheromones regularly in moderate amounts. Otherwise, Little Yan will suffer terribly during his heat, and it could harm his health.”
“Are the items ready?” Liang Shijing sat down in the high-backed chair.
“They’re ready,” Hu Li replied. “Starting tomorrow, as long as Little Yan uses the specially developed neck ring on time, his pheromone levels will gradually decrease. The micro-doses will alleviate your addiction symptoms without inducing your susceptibility period, and they’ll also maintain Little Yan’s gland health!”
It was a perfect solution in every way—Hu Li was practically cheering for himself.
“Then why did you have him draw three vials?” Liang Shijing slowly raised his head from the report pages, his gaze sharp as a knife. Hu Li’s heart skipped a beat. “The other two syringes were my oversight…” He stole a glance at Liang Shijing’s expression and quickly promised, “It won’t happen again.”
The original reason for drawing Wen Yan’s pheromones was just to check his gland condition. He hadn’t expected Hu Li to use all three reserve syringes…
Liang Shijing set down the report and rubbed his brow with his fingertips.
“Chief, I have something to report,” Hu Li said hesitantly after a moment.
“Speak.”
“Should we add the remaining two vials of pheromones to the biomimetic agent?”
The biomimetic agent’s full name was Synthetic Pheromone Biological Injection Agent. Five years ago, the medical team had specially developed it after a tortuous process. Liang Shijing had described the scent of Wen Yan’s pheromones, and after multiple adjustments, it was designed to alleviate his addiction.
“No need,” Liang Shijing refused.
Adding Wen Yan’s real pheromones to the fake biomimetic agent carried low risk but wasn’t entirely safe. If the resulting agent failed to activate the reward centers in Liang Shijing’s brain, the addiction symptoms—irritability, headaches, fever—could escalate into intense sexual cravings. In layman’s terms, if the dosage wasn’t perfect, it could easily lead to disaster. The current biomimetic agent only caused side effects to his own body without affecting Wen Yan.
That tube of pink liquid was the biomimetic agent.
Seeing Liang Shijing fall silent, Hu Li knew something was wrong. He pulled out the tablet from his white coat and asked gravely, “Given that you’ve been injecting the biomimetic agent much more frequently lately, we need to reassess your symptoms.
“Chief, up to now, under what circumstances with Little Yan do you feel a strong urge to use the biomimetic agent?”
“Eye contact,” Liang Shijing answered expressionlessly.
“And your physical reaction?”
“Sexual impulse.”
“Uh… How long does the eye contact last?”
The study fell into dead silence. Liang Shijing sat motionless in his high-backed chair, saying nothing. Hu Li scribbled “immediate effect” in the symptoms field, then erased it with the digital eraser and changed it to “instantaneous.”
Pheromone addiction was such an irrational affliction. Not only did Wen Yan’s pheromones induce euphoria and hallucinations, they also hooked Liang Shijing—even as an S-Grade at the pinnacle of ABO genders.
Separation bred anxiety; eye contact sparked desire.
Every minute and second was pure torment, and the cause of the addiction remained a mystery…
~~~
The next day, after the rain had cleared and the sky was bright.
A playful giggle sounded by his ear. Wen Yan groggily rolled deeper into the covers.
“Wen Yan, why aren’t you talking?” a childish voice asked.
Liang Wangyou propped his chin on his hands, sprawled by the bed, peering curiously at Wen Yan’s half-lidded eyes. He thought Wen Yan was awake, unaware that it was just an illusion created by his long lashes.
“Why aren’t you talking?” Seeing no response, Liang Wangyou asked again.
Wen Yan blearily opened his eyes. In his hazy vision, a fuzzy, oversized head loomed large.
“So you were actually asleep until now!” Liang Wangyou exclaimed.
“Little You?” Wen Yan murmured, still caught between dream and wakefulness.
“It’s me.” Liang Wangyou clambered onto the bed. “Father says you’re a lazy pig who loves sleeping in. He’s right—the pig is cute, but Wen Yan, you’re not just cute; you’re even prettier than everyone else.”
The words “Liang Shijing” crashed into his mind like a gong, snapping Wen Yan fully awake. He glanced around and saw no sign of the man in the dim room. Liang Wangyou’s eyes sparkled brightly. Wen Yan wanted to ruffle his hair, to ask and say a thousand things, but all those words caught in his throat, reduced to a soft, “Have you had breakfast yet?”
Liang Wangyou burst into giggles.
“What’s so funny…” Wen Yan asked blankly.
“It’s already noon! How can you sleep this long? Are you the king of sleep? But that’s okay—I slept a long time too. I fell asleep at dinner last night and didn’t wake up until five this morning.”
“Then you’re the little king,” Wen Yan said, his lips curving into a smile.
“Okay!” Liang Wangyou replied in a soft, sticky voice. “But why are you staying at my house?”
“I… won’t be here long. I just happen to be useful to your father right now…” Wen Yan explained gently.
“Oh, I get it. You’re like the teachers who take care of me. But does Father really need someone to look after him at his age?”
“Maybe.” Wen Yan mumbled.
“He’s so childish.” Liang Wangyou flicked on the bedside lamp and looked at him expectantly. “Wen Yan, will you have lunch with me?”
The warm yellow light bathed him from below. It was Saturday, so he wasn’t in his school uniform. He seemed like a kid who got hot easily—wearing a T-shirt despite the cool teens-degree weather, his exposed arms small and pale. With no answer, he waited obediently. Wen Yan suppressed the urge to pull him into a hug and nodded firmly.
“Then get up quick!” Liang Wangyou ran off with a grin. Wen Yan watched his retreating back, only for Liang Wangyou to whirl around halfway, mimicking some adult in mock scolding: “Still lazing in bed!”
Wen Yan froze, then broke into a smile.
It was the same small restaurant. Liang Wangyou sat obediently in his seat without touching his utensils. Consul Ji pulled out a chair for Wen Yan. “Thank you,” Wen Yan said first, then sat and asked Liang Wangyou, “Were you waiting for me?”
“Yeah.” Liang Wangyou held his special spoon for eating.
“Good boy,” Wen Yan praised him.
“You can’t talk while eating,” Liang Wangyou said, acting like a little adult.
He insisted on no talking, yet he chattered the most. “Wen Yan, do you have to work after dinner?” When Wen Yan replied that he didn’t, Liang Wangyou pressed on. “Then after we eat, can we go to the Eastern Botanical Garden to feed the little deer? Do you like the little deer? I love them, but they never get close to me. After feeding them, will you play with me at the upstairs amusement park?”
Wen Yan had provided three vials of pheromones the night before, which should tide Liang Shijing over for the next few days. He still had no idea what illness Liang Shijing had supposedly contracted from him, but clearly, the man wasn’t home right now.
That was normal. The Chief had no days off or holidays. Revered by the masses, he shouldered an endless stream of official duties.
So Wen Yan agreed to accompany Liang Wangyou.
“Oh, right—you absolutely can’t go to the north side,” Liang Wangyou added, swinging his little legs under the table.
“Why not?”
“That’s my grandparents’ cemetery. No one’s allowed there. Father would get mad.”
“Got it,” Wen Yan said with a nod, forcing a smile.
They might have gone to feed the little deer, but Consul Ji came in to say that Liang Shijing wanted Wen Yan at the Chief’s Mansion after lunch.
Liang Wangyou looked visibly upset. Wen Yan crouched down and met his eyes. “Little You, how about I play with you tomorrow instead?”
“So annoying. Father is so annoying,” Liang Wangyou grumbled, his brows furrowing.
“Don’t say that about him,” Wen Yan coaxed gently. “He has a ton of work and a lot of things beyond his control.”
“Then when will you come back?” Liang Wangyou was still sulking. “I want to play with you. You’re not scared of Father or me. Consul Ji says you’re a really, really good person, and I think so too.”
Wen Yan shot Consul Ji a grateful look before turning back with a soft promise. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Fine. But come back early,” Liang Wangyou relented, pouting.
The Chief’s Mansion stood at the heart of the Capital—a sprawling white neoclassical sandstone structure covering ninety thousand square meters. Composed of a main building flanked by east and west wings, it served as both office and residence for the Chief Executive Officer.
After passing security, the black convoy entered a dedicated underpass tunnel. Star-like lights dotted the curved walls, painted in natural blue and white pigments, casting brilliant flashes of light and shadow as they drove through.
Black-clad bodyguards stood in pairs every five meters, bowing deeply as the vehicles passed within two meters.
At the tunnel’s end, security personnel opened the car door and escorted Wen Yan to a massive elevator. An iris scan turned the overhead red light green, and the airtight doors slid open.
The third-floor corridor carried a soothing, mind-clearing fragrance in the air.
Light-colored carpet stretched wall to wall, interrupted only by widely spaced white doors. Security led him to the Chief’s Office at the corridor’s center and swung open the double doors, which parted like unfolding curtains.
In the spacious, sunlit office, Liang Shijing sat behind his desk in a crisp white shirt. A sweeping curved window framed him from behind, sunlight and clouds cascading over his shoulders like a golden tide—noble and imposing.
“Come in.”
The heavy door clicked shut behind him. Wen Yan shuffled slowly to the carpet’s center.
“Come here.”
Like a puppet on strings, Wen Yan obeyed each command, step by step, until he sank into the empty cushioned chair beside Liang Shijing.
“Slept enough?” Liang Shijing asked, eyes on his documents.
“Mm.” Wen Yan kept his head down. Soft sunlight bathed his back and profile, turning his delicate lashes to fluffy gold. A hazy glow enveloped him.
“Pulling the pitiful act again?” Liang Shijing remarked.
Wen Yan didn’t get it. He hadn’t done anything—so why did Liang Shijing think he was playing for sympathy?
“Are you feeling better?” Wen Yan ventured, trying to shift the topic. “Were the three vials of pheromones enough?”
Liang Shijing always looked stormy at their meetings, radiating impatience, but today he seemed markedly improved.
Wen Yan waited quietly. Liang Shijing nodded toward the desk. Wen Yan’s gaze fell on a half-open velvet box before him, holding an Omega Neck Ring. The materials screamed luxury, but the gland-covering section was unlike any on the market—dense rows of raised silicone nubs lined the inner rim, designed for massaging the gland.
“Put it on,” Liang Shijing ordered curtly.
The custom neck ring delivered high-intensity vibrations through its inner silicone points at a steady frequency, bombarding the gland to release pheromones in fine particles. So dilute they evaded detection, they posed no risk of inducing euphoria in any ABO. It was cutting-edge tech—except no one had accounted for an Omega whose gland had long since decayed, incapable of producing pheromones.
“Will it help with your condition?” Wen Yan asked carefully. “Any bad side effects?”
“What kind of effects are you hoping for?” Liang Shijing turned, fixing him with a cool stare.
Wen Yan hesitated, then grabbed the neck ring and headed to the bathroom. He tore off the barrier patch with a sharp hiss and clasped it around his neck. Silencing the alarm, he glanced in the mirror—the custom panel perfectly concealed his sutured gland.
He flicked on the lowest pheromone release setting. Three thousand impact points over the gland hummed to life.
Wen Yan grunted and crumpled to his knees.
Such faint vibrations would register as nothing to other Omegas. But the pain—it was excruciating, like dying all over again.
