Warm yellow light spilled from a massive crystal chandelier, turning the floating cigar smoke into a dreamlike haze. Amidst the rustle of silk and the clinking of glasses, old songs from the Paramount era drifted from a gramophone, providing a haunting soundtrack to the feverish eyes of the auction crowd.
Extravagance and decadence the height of absurdity.
“Starting bid: five million!” The auctioneer’s voice practically cracked as he shrieked the number, his grip on the microphone slick with cold sweat.
“Eight million.”
From a box on the east side of the first floor, a hand adorned with a vivid green jadeite bangle emerged, slowly flicking ash from a cigarette.
Zhao Wan’er did not bother to stand. She leaned languidly against her soft couch, her expensive velvet qipao outlining her lush figure. Through the curling smoke, she narrowed her sharp, phoenix-like eyes, her gaze crawling over the man in the cage with slimy intent.
“Those eyes are beautiful so wild,” she said, her voice soft yet brimming with arrogant certainty. “If I had them gouged out and preserved in formalin by my bedside, they would shine brighter than any pearl. A masterpiece like this is only interesting once you’ve broken his bones and heard him gasp for mercy.”
A low ripple of knowing laughter spread through the room.
“Ten million!”
In the west box, Director Li pushed aside a shivering Beta boy. His bloated face shone with grease, his tone lewd. “Miss Zhao has refined tastes, but the pheromones of a top-tier Alpha even as a bed-warmer, he’d be elite. I’d like to see for myself exactly how he tastes.”
“Twelve million!”
“Fifteen million!”
The price bolted like a runaway horse, soaring to twenty million within minutes.
The entire auction hall fell into a state of morbid frenzy. These Hong Kong elites, who usually branded themselves as gentlemen and ladies, were now like sharks scenting blood, vying to tear into this piece of prime meat known as “X-9.”
They weren’t just buying an Alpha; they were using violence and wealth to experience the thrill of trampling a predator at the top of the food chain beneath their feet. It was a reversal of power, a twisted form of vengeance.
Yet, amidst this boiling madness, the most mysterious black box in the center of the second floor remained as silent as a grave.
Jiang Xu sank into his leather sofa, swirling half a glass of red wine. He watched the frantic crowd below, a mocking curl on his lips as he let out a soft “tsk.”
“A bunch of lunatics. Paying twenty million for a nuclear warhead that could detonate at any moment… do they have a death wish?” He took a sip of wine and turned toward the figure standing by the window.
“Master Shen, don’t tell me you’re still planning to buy him?”
Shen Yanzhou remained with his back to Jiang Xu, standing before the massive pane of glass. His rare, silver-grey eyes were locked onto the silent man in the cage downstairs, piercing through the noise and the crowd.
The bidding below began to thin out.
When Zhao Wan’er casually uttered “twenty-five million,” the entire hall fell into a brief, hushed silence.
She set down her teacup and scanned the room, chuckling softly. “Everyone, give me some face. I’ve taken a liking to this ‘stray dog.’ Whether he’s for guarding my door or warming my bed, he enters the Zhao household tonight. We’re all civilized people; surely no one wants to sour our relations over a mere plaything?”
Every word dripped with the weight of a powerful dynasty.
The auctioneer wiped the sweat from his face and raised his gavel, his voice trembling. “Twenty-five million once! Twenty-five million twice! Is there anyone”
“Thirty million.”
A cold, lazy, yet piercingly clear voice abruptly cut through the heat of the room.
It wasn’t a loud voice, yet it acted like a bucket of ice water, instantly dousing the fire of the crowd. The nonchalant tone made it seem as though he wasn’t tossing out thirty million in cold, hard cash, but rather dropping three coins into a beggar’s cup.
The crowd erupted in an uproar.
The smile on Zhao Wan’er’s face froze. She slowly turned her head, her gaze venomous as she stared at the dark window on the second floor.
“That’s a new face,” she said, her voice sounding as if it were squeezed through her teeth, carrying a chilling warning. “In Hong Kong, some things have a price tag, but not everyone has the life to keep them. I have already claimed this ‘stray dog.’ Why don’t you do the Zhao family a favor”
Shen Yanzhou didn’t even spare her a glance.
He turned slightly, a flicker of impatience crossing his brow. He spoke to Jiang Xu in a flat voice: “Tell her I don’t like it when it’s too noisy.”
Jiang Xu shrugged helplessly, walked to the railing, and shouted down with a grin: “Miss Zhao, thirty million the gentleman wants him. If you don’t have the cash to follow, please stop disturbing the peace. After all, in Hong Kong, ‘giving face’ depends entirely on who’s asking.”
Zhao Wan’er’s face turned ashen. She moved to raise her paddle again, but her assistant grabbed her wrist.
“Miss! You can’t add more!” the assistant whispered urgently, face pale. “The board is already unhappy with your spending, and that voice it sounds like the one from the Shen family.”
The Shen family.
In Hong Kong, there was only one Shen family the one that held the pulse of half the city’s shipping. And the current heir, Shen Yanzhou, was the notorious “Mad Beauty.”
Zhao Wan’er bit her lip, staring at the closed black window before finally withdrawing her gaze in bitter defeat. She had no desire to cross the Shens, especially not over a plaything.
Bang! The gavel fell, and the matter was settled.
“Congratulations, to the honored guest on the second floor. X-9 is yours for thirty million!”
The Underground Handover
The air here was even more humid, thick with a nauseating mix of blood, old rust, and pungent disinfectant. Several burly men pushed the massive alloy cage forward, stopping in front of Shen Yanzhou.
Shen Yanzhou stood in the shadows, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He lifted his eyes, his gaze passing through the cold iron bars to the man inside.
At close range, the Alpha’s pressure was even heavier. He was wrapped in specialized restraints, his muscular lines visible beneath the taut fabric. The broken silver mask hid his face, leaving only those pitch-black eyes and a sharp jawline.
The man in the cage slowly lifted his head. Their gazes collided silently through the bars.
In that moment, Shen Yanzhou felt as if he could actually smell it a scent of gunpowder, blood, and cold fir. It was incredibly domineering and predatory.
He narrowed his eyes, a biological shiver running through him. He reached out a pale, nearly translucent hand, sliding it through the gap in the bars toward the man’s face.
His slender fingers hovered before the broken mask. With a light flick, he could see the face that cost thirty million.
The man in the cage didn’t move. He simply watched Shen Yanzhou, his dark eyes reflecting the other’s cold, elegant face. His breathing was heavy and hot, ghosting over Shen’s icy fingertips.
“How do you look?” Shen Yanzhou withdrew his hand, asking casually.
The cage remained silent for a beat.
“Not as good as you,” the man replied, his voice raspy, low, and devoid of inflection.
Shen Yanzhou looked up, reassessing him. A faint, almost pleasant glint of a smile touched his eyes.
“At least you’re sensible.” He turned around, no longer sparing a glance for the prisoner. He threw a cold command to the trembling auction manager:
“Wash him.”
“Inside and out. I don’t like that revolting smell of blood on him.”
“Then send him to No. 7 Repulse Bay.”
“Yes… Yes! Master, rest assured! We’ll scrub him clean! Not a single scent will remain!” The manager bowed frantically, breaking into a cold sweat.
Shen Yanzhou did not linger, disappearing into the black rain.
Repulse Bay, Mid-Levels Villa
This was Shen Yanzhou’s private domain the most expensive and lonely piece of land in Hong Kong. Backed by mountains and facing the sea, it was a place where even birds were rare. Tonight, shrouded in the storm, it felt like a desert island.
The danger level of a newly purchased top-tier Alpha was too high to bring to the Shen family estate. He had to keep him here, caged.
It was late when Shen Yanzhou returned. He tossed his keys onto the marble console in the entryway and went straight to the bathroom. The smell of smoke and alcohol from the market, the aura of decaying decadence, and that Alpha’s overwhelming pheromones which felt like they were burning holes in his skin made him feel suffocated.
He turned the shower to the highest temperature. He shed his wet trench coat and unbuttoned his shirt. One, two the black silk slid to the floor like an ink stain, revealing a body that rarely saw the sun.
He was thin, pale to the point of being sickly. His shoulder blades protruded like the wings of a broken butterfly. Every line was as exquisite as porcelain carved by God breath-takingly beautiful, yet fragile.
Steam rose, quickly blurring the mirror. Shen Yanzhou closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water wash over him. His fingers moved down to his slender neck. Beneath the skin, faint blue veins throbbed with his heartbeat. Further down was his scent gland, usually sealed tight with a specialized patch.
Tonight, because of his proximity to X-9’s domineering aura, the long-dormant gland throbbed with an unignorable fullness. It was itchy and painful, like a thousand ants biting or a fire burning beneath the flesh.
To ease the discomfort, he pressed his fingertips hard against the soft flesh around the gland, his nails digging in. The pain mixed with a strange pleasure, acting like a drug that temporarily filled the vast, abyssal void in his heart.
“Ugh…” A low moan broke through the sound of the water.
Unbidden, those eyes flashed in his mind. Dark, deep, and steady.
That man… he should have been delivered to the basement by now, shouldn’t he? Did the auction people put a muzzle on him? Did they chain him? If those powerful hands broke free, what would they do?
An inexplicable, dangerous restlessness spread through him. It didn’t bring fear; instead, it made his numbed nerves tingle with a long-lost excitement.
Half an hour later, the water stopped. Shen Yanzhou walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a midnight-blue silk robe, the belt tied loosely to reveal a broad expanse of cold-white chest. His wet hair clung to his face, and his bare feet made no sound on the Persian wool rug.
The living room was dark. Only the occasional flash of lightning from outside illuminated the space, casting long, eerie shadows. He walked to the liquor cabinet to pour a drink.
Crack. A faint sound, like the popping of a joint, cut through the noise of the wind and rain.
Shen Yanzhou’s fingers froze on the bottle. Every muscle tensed.
Someone was there. In this house, besides him, there was someone else. He had dismissed the butler and servants. The bodyguards wouldn’t dare enter the main building without orders.
Unless, it was him.
“Who’s there?” Shen Yanzhou asked coldly, his voice echoing in the empty room.
No response. Only the violent rain outside.
But he could feel it a cold, damp, predatory aura surging from all sides, like invisible tentacles wrapping around his ankles in the dark. It was the scent from the auction, but now, it was devoid of blood, replaced by a crisp, cold fragrance similar to fir and seawater.
Purer, and far more dangerous.
He spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for the small of his back where he usually kept a Browning pistol. But he had forgotten he had just showered and was only wearing a robe.
In the moment he turned, a shadow pounced from the darkness like a leopard.
Cold, powerful, calloused hands clamped around his waist from behind with terrifying strength. Before Shen Yanzhou could even let out a grunt, he was dragged into a broad, icy embrace.
The man was dripping wet, his soaked, rough cloth shirt pressing tight against Shen’s thin silk robe. The bone-chilling cold seeped through the fabric and into his skin, making his flesh crawl with goosebumps.
Then, the man lowered his head, burying it heavily into Shen’s neck.
“Hah…” The man’s breath was heavy and scorching, ghosting over the sensitive area of his nape. Cold rainwater dripped from the man’s hair, sliding down Shen’s neck and into the robe like icy snakes.
Cold and heat. Ice and fire. Extreme danger and lethal temptation.
Then, the Alpha’s pheromones exploded without reservation. Without the cage to hold them back, they hit like a shot of strong liquor, shattering Shen Yanzhou’s defenses. He felt his gland throb violently; his skin began to itch and swell, and even his lower back felt numb from the heat.
His legs gave way. If not for the iron grip around him, he would have collapsed.
Shen Yanzhou suppressed the urge to turn and bite the man’s throat. He tilted his head slightly, looking at the dark head buried in his neck.
“Are you… my thirty million?”