It is already ten o’clock at night when they return home.
Shen Jiyun gently closes the door and is just about to pick someone up and carry them into the room when his peripheral vision catches a figure standing in the dim corner.
A white dress, long black hair, and a gloomy gaze watching him.
Shen Jiyun pauses for a second, then walks toward the room with an expressionless face.
“Children who stay up late do not grow tall,” he says.
“Do big children grow tall by staying up late?” the girl asks gloomily, her gaze widening sharply as it lands on the person in Shen Jiyun’s arms.
Shen Jiyun smiles lightly and says, “I am already 193 centimeters tall.”
The subtext is that he does not need to grow any taller.
Normally, Shen Yue would definitely tease him and laugh along for a bit, but today her attention is entirely drawn away by the person in Shen Jiyun’s arms.
She takes small, hesitant steps following Shen Jiyun into his room. Shen Jiyun tosses the person onto the bed and slightly stretches his sore, stiff neck.
“Big brother…” After glancing at the unconscious person on the bed, Shen Yue looks over at Shen Jiyun with astonishment.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again, holding her breath for a long time until her face turns completely red.
Shen Jiyun gives her a lukewarm glance and asks in a calm tone, “What do you want to say?”
“How can you be like this!” Shen Yue only manages to spit out a single question after a long while.
“Like what?”
“If you like this Omega, you could pursue him openly and honorably. Why did you drug him and make him unconscious?!” Shen Yue whispers, “Big brother, the Omega Protection Association will arrest you for doing this.”
Shen Jiyun rubs his forehead and says, “He is an Alpha.”
Shen Yue is half-incredulous. She takes a few steps forward, leans in close to Fang Fengqin’s side, and sniffs.
“You are lying!” Shen Yue’s face turns red. This person’s entire body smells like her brother’s pheromones, which only happens if they have been marked.
Shen Jiyun pushes Shen Yue out of the door with one hand, looking down from above at her sickly, pale, and thin face as he says, “Children should not meddle in so many things.”
Shen Yue unhappily pats his arm and says, “Treat him a bit better.”
She cannot describe what kind of mood she is feeling. Just now, that person’s complexion was pale to the point of transparency, with faint traces of blood around the back of his neck, lying quietly on the bed like a corpse.
Shen Yue jumps to conclusions and has already identified Fang Fengqin as an Omega, subconsciously generating a mutual feeling of pity for someone in the same miserable situation.
“He is my classmate, injured and unconscious, and came to stay for the night,” Shen Jiyun explains to her in a gentle tone, reaching out to pat Shen Yue’s head. “Did you take your medicine today?”
Shen Yue nods.
“Go to sleep,” Shen Jiyun gently presses his large palm on the top of her head and coaxes, “Be a good girl.”
Shen Yue looks back every few steps, full of reluctance, before Shen Jiyun closes the bedroom door, cutting off her line of sight.
At this moment, a troublesome pest is lying right on the bed.
A troublesome pest stained all over with his pheromone scent.
Shen Jiyun walks over to the bed, reaches out, and flips Fang Fengqin over like a pancake, casting an inquisitive gaze toward the back of his neck.
There is hardly any pheromone scent in Fang Fengqin’s blood, yet his body constantly carries a faint aroma of white pine.
Where did it come from?
Deep in the night, the thin walls of the cheap rental apartment are not soundproof at all, and occasionally the sound of next-door neighbors dragging their slippers can be heard.
Shen Jiyun reaches out toward Fang Fengqin’s gland. Whether Alpha or Omega, the gland is an extremely fragile area.
Yet Fang Fengqin’s gland is full of mottled marks: digging marks and scratch marks left by his fingertips, bloodstains, and bruising. Tracing back even further, Shen Jiyun once left teeth marks right here.
Thinking of this, Shen Jiyun’s tooth roots begin to itch again.
The scent of white pine in the room grows thicker and thicker. After becoming dense and heavy, another sharp and spicy scent of wormwood coils and embraces the person on the bed like a water snake.
The unconscious Fang Fengqin struggles uneasily for a moment, his entire body wrapped in pheromones to the point where even his bone joints emit chattering tremors.
His lower lip is tightly bitten, yet groans still escape. His pale cheeks grow redder and redder, and sweat even beads on his temples.
Shen Jiyun sits to the side, observing his reaction with a critical gaze.
Very few Alphas can endure his pheromones. When he underwent differentiation, doctors warned him to keep his pheromones under control if he did not want to cause trouble.
An SSS-rank Alpha releases just a tiny trace of scent to send an Omega into estrus.
Similarly, it will also drive an Alpha into manic fury.
Thinking of this, Shen Jiyun reaches out to pinch Fang Fengqin’s chin, his gaze scanning closely across his flushed face.
Tears brim in the corners of Fang Fengqin’s eyes, and his consciousness is forcibly dragged out of a hazy lethargy. He opens his eyes slightly with a dazed gaze, subconsciously wanting to curl up his body.
The curled shape of a shrimp is generally assumed by people who lack a sense of security.
Shen Jiyun restrains his movements, leans forward slightly, and speaks with a tone carrying a moderate amount of amusement.
It is as if he is teasing a little cat.
“Do you want to mark?”
Fang Fengqin’s eyelids are half-closed, and his mind is nothing but a mess of paste. Surrounded by the scent of white pine, he feels an unprecedented sense of ease.
He subconsciously parts the seams of his lips, letting out low pants. His cold hands cover Shen Jiyun’s hand, trembling slightly.
“It hurts,” he murmurs low, and a few teardrops stream down the corners of his eyes as an unconscious reaction.
“Do you want a mark?” Shen Jiyun asks again, reaching out toward Fang Fengqin’s face. His large palm almost completely covers that delicate, flush-tinted face.
His fingertips probe into the parting of the lips, stroking the tender tip of the tongue with calloused pads, drawing out thin silver threads of saliva when he pulls away.
Fang Fengqin struggles helplessly twice, his body growing softer and softer. The back of his neck begins to ache again, bringing discomfort to all his limbs and bones.
Uncomfortable. He whimpers a few times, tears sliding down his fair cheeks, biting onto Shen Jiyun’s finger while unable to say a word, only able to look up at the person above with those bewildered cat-like eyes.
Shen Jiyun’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows twice, and the next second, he abruptly pulls back his hand.
Fang Fengqin instinctively chases after it, but Shen Jiyun has already stood up, neatly smoothing out the wrinkles on his clothes.
“Never mind then if you don’t want it,” he smiles slightly at the person and says, “Sweet dreams, Young Master Fang.”
Fang Fengqin does not understand. Like a confused young beast, he curls up his body, one hand tightly clutching the back of his neck.
Shen Jiyun pays no more attention to his low whimpers and turns to walk toward the living room.
He tidies up simply and lies down fully clothed on the small sofa in the living room. Just as he closes his eyes, he hears a rustling sound coming from the bedroom door.
A staggered set of footsteps approaches, and the newcomer breathes heavily, following the scent straight toward Shen Jiyun’s side.
Shen Jiyun keeps his eyes closed, waiting for his next move.
Yet after waiting for a few minutes, nothing happens.
He opens his eyes, his indifferent pupils pausing slightly when they catch sight of the person on the floor.
As if simply wanting to be closer to him, Fang Fengqin lies curled up on the cold floorboards right by the foot of the sofa.
His brows are furrowed, his tear tracks have not yet dried, and his black hair is dampened by sweat, plastered against his pale temples.
A stray dog.
Shen Jiyun curves his lips in a smile. Fang Fengqin is usually far too aggravating, so it is rare to see him in such a wretched state; he should properly appreciate the view.
He is not clear on the specific situation, but seeing his gland in this condition, he can tell that Fang Fengqin’s life is not as enviable as outsiders think.
Shen Jiyun watches for a while, then finds it boring. The reaction in his lower body has not subsided all night, and compared to Fang Fengqin’s illness, he is not faring any better.
Thinking of this, a bizarre expression appears on his face.
“Young Master Fang,” he gets up, picks Fang Fengqin up, and coaxes him in a gentle tone right by his ear, “Do you really not want my mark?”
Fang Fengqin only knows to bury his face into his chest, inhaling deeply, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.
Shen Jiyun lowers his head, looking at that mottled gland on the back of the neck, and his tooth roots itch with an increasingly unbearable intensity.
Finally, yielding to the shrinking, timid movements of the person in his arms, he lowers his head and bites down heavily.
A short, sharp gasp of pain escapes from Fang Fengqin’s throat, sounding very abrupt in the quiet night. The next second, a large palm covers his mouth and nose.
Shen Jiyun flips him over and pins him onto the bed, hovering over his body. His sharp canine teeth sink deep into the shriveled gland, releasing a large number of pheromones inside.
Fang Fengqin is shaking, unable to tell whether it is from pleasure or pain. Shen Jiyun covers his face, trapping all his reactions between lips and teeth.
In the not-so-wide rental apartment, the scent of pheromones grows thicker and thicker as the two people on the bed overlap vertically.
To call it an overlap is more like a suppression based entirely on strength.
Fang Fengqin’s pair of cat-like eyes are full of tearful light, struggling and twitching a few times before going limp on the bed, completely falling into a deep coma.