Chapter 8

Liang Shijing was still seated behind his desk, handling official business.

The Chief’s Suite was actually a lavish oversized apartment. The space he occupied now was the office main hall. To the right stood a plush, comfortable resting sofa, while a massive golden carpet covered the middle of the floor. Bookshelves and a display cabinet filled the left side, the cabinet holding crystal whiskey bottles at varying heights. All the furniture boasted elegant white-and-gold accents. Doors flanked both sides: the right led to the mobile conference room and reception lounge, the left to the Chief’s private bedroom and dining room.

Wen Yan emerged from the left door, his face ashen pale.

The desk was now buried under a small mountain of official documents. He shuffled wearily across the carpet and sank back into his chair. His long, thick eyelashes were beaded with moisture, a tiny droplet clinging to the tip of his refined nose. He drew shallow, panting breaths.

Liang Shijing hadn’t spared him a single glance.

The main hall held its pin-drop silence until Wen Yan tried to nudge his chair away a fraction. Only then did Liang Shijing finally lift his noble gaze for a fleeting look. By that point, Wen Yan could scarcely sense anything above his neck—his every sensation converged on the throbbing spot at his posterior cervical gland.

Sunlight streamed through the latticed windows in beams of light. Behind him stretched a vast garden, clusters of blooming roses seeming to spill over the spotless arched glass panes to flourish at his side. He wore a white shirt, his skin was pale, his irises a ghostly white, even his lips appeared bloodless. He was pure as a crystal-clear mountain spring, yet he radiated an effortless brilliance.

“Is it so uncomfortable sitting next to me?” Liang Shijing’s deep voice sliced through the stagnant air.

“Can you smell my pheromones?” Wen Yan’s long lashes fluttered, his voice faint as drifting mist.

“Why do you ask?”

“From now on, could I provide your pheromones through extraction instead?”

Of course, a syringe could draw them out—but wouldn’t that mean puncturing the delicate gland repeatedly? Covering his tender skin with needle marks? Enduring agony each time?

“Being near me is that unbearable?” Liang Shijing asked impassively.

Wen Yan stared at the swirling dust motes in the sunbeams, his gaze unfocused and wandering.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Why so many questions?” Liang Shijing gripped the arm of his chair and swiveled him around to face him directly. Wen Yan stared blankly, his eyes pooling with clear light like gathered spring water. He’d just gone momentarily blind for a few seconds; now his vision returned, revealing Liang Shijing’s superior features up close. The man was tilting his chin slightly, expressionless as he watched him. Wen Yan wasn’t sure how long he’d been under that scrutiny. In a small voice, he pleaded, “Will you answer me?”

“Are you that proud?” Liang Shijing asked coldly.

“If it would make you feel even a little better, I’d do it.” Wen Yan added, “I’m not lying.”

“Don’t sound so aggrieved. You’re just repaying a debt.”

“I’m sorry.”

Liang Shijing spun him back around and ignored him completely after that.

The dedicated line rang several times that entire afternoon—from foreign leaders, Secretary-General Cheng Zhu, the fleet’s top commander… Since Liang Shijing made no effort to avoid him, Wen Yan heard every word clearly. But he had no idea what any of it meant; his mind was utterly numb. His eyes fixed on a wall painting for ages, like a corpse waiting only for its body to grow cold.

Until the setting sun cast long shadows across the carpet.

A clear, mellow voice filtered fuzzily into his ears, shifting from buzzing fragments to full clarity. Wen Yan lifted his gaze in confusion. At some point, Liang Shijing had stopped working and was now leaning against the edge of the desk with arms folded, scrutinizing him with unnervingly sharp eyes.

“Were you just talking to me?” Wen Yan asked, his throat parched.

“You slept a total of nineteen hours last night—now you can nod off with your eyes open?” Liang Shijing frowned.

“I was just spacing out.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“No.”

“Being near me makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”

He wanted to shake his head, but searing pain stopped him cold. Wen Yan’s voice quivered almost inaudibly. “No, it doesn’t.”

“I’m not scolding you.” Liang Shijing’s expression darkened.

It wasn’t scolding, but tears still trailed down his cheeks one by one. Wen Yan wiped them away and stopped crying almost immediately.

“Why are you upset? Did you remember something?” Liang Shijing asked.

His mind couldn’t think, his ears couldn’t hear properly. Wen Yan clutched the fabric over his knees, his face pitiful as he begged, “Can we go back to Oak Bay now?”

The sunset’s afterglow carried away the last traces of warmth. Dozens of bodyguard vehicles blended into the traffic flow. Their specially coated car bore no Chief’s Mansion markings.

Wen Yan slumped bonelessly against the car window, maintaining a straight-line distance from Liang Shijing—like two points at opposite ends. Even this multi-ton armored official vehicle had faint bumps during the drive, and he felt every one. The neck ring would shift ever so slightly with the jostles, sending fresh jolts of pain through his already numb gland.

Twilight gathered as they arrived at Oak Bay, where dinner for three had been prepared in advance. Consul Ji waited respectfully at the entryway. The sleek black convoy glided along the lush Oak Corridor. Before it had even come to a full stop, Liang Wangyou came bounding down the white stone stairs with eager thuds.

“Father, you’re back! Wen Yan, you’re back! I’ve been waiting forever!”

Wen Yan forced a strained smile.

“Let’s eat first. Then we can go to the amusement park—or play games if you want. I have tons of huge game consoles.” Liang Wangyou gestured wildly for emphasis.

The evening breeze was gentle. The broad white stone steps could easily accommodate four or five abreast. Wen Yan walked with Liang Wangyou, Liang Shijing trailing behind.

“Did Father scold you?” Liang Wangyou took Wen Yan’s hand and whispered—though anyone with ears could hear.

“No.” Wen Yan tried to make his voice sound steady and sincere.

The three entered the entryway, where three pairs of slippers in varying sizes waited neatly on the floor in front of the sofa.

“Then why do you look a little sad?” Liang Wangyou tilted his head up. “He must have scolded you, right? His temper’s not great. Don’t take it to heart. Sure, he’s the Chief, but not many people actually like him.”

“So much chatter? Homework done?” Liang Shijing grabbed him and set him aside to stand.

“Finished it this morning.” Liang Wangyou planted his hands on his hips. “Not a single mistake—the teacher praised me.”

“Then go eat. Stop being a nuisance here.”

“Wen Yan.” Liang Wangyou ignored the childish remark and tugged at Wen Yan’s finger again. “Let’s go eat.”

Wen Yan gripped his hand in return, feeling the warmth and soft skin in his palm. He really couldn’t hold out much longer—any movement above the neck was too much for him to bear. He could only remove the Neck Ring and rest if he wasn’t in the same space as Liang Shijing. In a quiet whisper, he negotiated with Liang Wangyou. “I want to go back to my room and rest for a bit. Can we see each other tomorrow?”

“No! I’ve been waiting for you forever and ever.” Liang Wangyou pouted. “You left at one and didn’t come back until six.”

“I’m sorry. In that case, let’s go now—”

“Liang Wangyou!” Liang Shijing called his name in warning from behind.

“Fine.” Liang Wangyou lowered his long lashes, hiding his disappointed eyes. “If you want to have a midnight snack, you can call me. I can drink some milk and keep you company. If not, that’s okay too…”

“How about we have breakfast together tomorrow?” Wen Yan turned his face away as tears suddenly spilled from his eyes. He didn’t want to cry in front of Liang Wangyou, so he hurried off without waiting for a reply.

A gentle breeze blew in through the wide-open double doors. Under the night sky, the lights along both sides of the Oak Corridor flickered on one by one, like clusters of hazy mist.

“Being clingy just makes people dislike you,” Liang Shijing remarked, his tone sharp.

Liang Wangyou was only five years old and had never experienced anyone disliking him before. He was still transitioning from kindergarten to first grade, where the lessons were simple things like red apples hanging from trees. He didn’t understand what Liang Shijing meant, but the tone made it clear it wasn’t anything good.

“I’m not clingy!” Liang Wangyou shot back defiantly.

“Go eat by yourself.” Liang Shijing had no patience for more argument and turned to leave. Liang Wangyou dashed after him with quick little steps and hugged his leg, looking up pitifully. “Are you going back to work again?”

“What else? To eat with you?”

He’d really hugged the wrong leg this time. Liang Wangyou instantly let go, clenched his little fists, and started punching him. Due to the height difference, he could only reach Liang Shijing’s thighs, but his punches grew heavier as his eyes turned redder. “I’m eating alone again!”

“Wen Yan wanted to eat with you at first. You’re the one who was too clingy.” Liang Shijing piled on.

Liang Wangyou froze, his chin trembling before he burst into loud wails. “I’m not clingy! He promised to play with me first! You’re the one who’s so old and still needs someone to take care of you—you’re the one who called him away! He promised me first! You’re the clingy one… waaah…”

He cried with his face tilted up, so heartbroken. He couldn’t even explain things clearly yet, but the sadness was already flooding his little face. So stubborn, so loyal to his attachments… He’d only met the omega who gave birth to him once or twice, and already he was desperate to follow him around…

In the end, neither of them was any better.

Liang Shijing scooped him up into his arms. Liang Wangyou buried his face in his shoulder and cried even harder. “I’m not clingy. And I’m not annoying.”

“I know.” Liang Shijing patted his back lightly.

“Wen Yan likes me so much. You must have said bad things about me to him… He was so happy at lunch…”

“I saw.” Liang Shijing murmured softly.

A life of fine clothes, gourmet food, and countless servants couldn’t fill the void in a child’s heart. Given his special status, Liang Wangyou was always surrounded by a bunch of bodyguards. School was fun with all the other kids, but weekends at Oak Bay felt so empty. He’d known from a young age that he was different from other children. He had two names—the same but with different surnames—and he thought having two names was cool, so he bragged loudly to his kindergarten friends. The innocent kids asked bluntly, “Did your father and your dad get divorced?”

Liang Wangyou was baffled. He didn’t have a dad…

A little older, he learned in safety class that he couldn’t tell anyone Liang Shijing was his father. It took him a long time to understand why. From then on, he saw Liang Shijing on the news more often than at home. He even thought the screens had tricked his father inside and smashed four or five TVs in a fit of “martial prowess.” He figured that one out quickly, but it broke his heart for much longer.

“If I talk less… will you both eat with me?” Liang Wangyou sobbed, gasping for breath. “But… how much less? You have to tell me first…”

The luxurious, bright light of the entrance hall enveloped the alpha’s lonely figure, the heartrending cries wrapping around him too.

“You don’t need to talk less. We’ll both be home tomorrow to eat with you.” He carried Liang Wangyou toward the dining room, his voice hoarse.