Night enveloped City S, the dim yellow lights outside the hotel casting long shadows as the occasional server passed through the corridor.
Wen Xiuran stood at the doorway, arms crossed, dressed in a bathrobe, his gaze flickering repeatedly toward the elevator nearby.
Rewind to just over ten minutes ago—when Wen Xiuran regained consciousness, the first thing he saw was Shen Yan lying on his arm.
Shen Yan’s face was pale, his brows slightly furrowed, his faint breathing almost imperceptible. His eyelashes trembled lightly, his lips still stained with traces of dried blood, and his exposed collarbone was covered in dense bite marks.
The room was bathed in dim light, the thick curtains blocking out the moonlight completely. Only the warm glow of a bedside lamp cast a soft radiance, like a thin veil gently draping over the two figures on the bed.
Wen Xiuran’s expression abruptly darkened, a sharp inhale escaping him as he carefully withdrew his arm. Under the faint lamplight, his face was grim as he stared intently at Shen Yan.
Outside, the occasional low call of a night bird only deepened the silence.
The lingering heat in his body hadn’t fully dissipated, and the familiar sensation confirmed it—Shen Yan had used an inducer on him.
He had always thought this beta was reckless, but now it seemed he had severely underestimated him.
Looking at Shen Yan, unconscious and unresponsive, Wen Xiuran hesitated for a long moment before his ears reddened and he gently lifted the covers.
The moment he saw the details, his face twisted into something ugly. The beta’s body was almost entirely marred—bruises of varying shades sprawled across Shen Yan’s pale skin like storm clouds. His thighs were in an even worse state, crisscrossed with large patches of dark purple marks.
Wen Xiuran froze for a few seconds before hastily scrambling to dress himself, every movement deliberately quiet, as if the slightest sound might disturb the person on the bed.
Once dressed, he tiptoed to the door, gently closing it behind him before finally stopping to pull out his phone and dial. “Dr. Liu, it’s Wen Xiuran. I need—”
Pacing restlessly by the door, Wen Xiuran was just debating whether to call an ambulance when a casually dressed man emerged from the elevator, medical kit in hand, his steps slow and deliberate.
Behind him followed a tall, dignified man in a well-tailored black suit. The sharp lines of his outfit accentuated his broad shoulders and slender frame. His features were chiseled, with thick, straight brows framing deep, piercing eyes. His neatly combed black hair added to his composed demeanor.
The corridor’s cold lighting made the silence even more pronounced, the only sounds being the quiet breaths of those present. Wen Xiuran’s hands clenched and unclenched as he looked at the man.
Dr. Liu, the Wen family’s private physician, was shrewd and observant. Without a word, he headed straight for the room, and Wen Xiuran naturally moved to follow, his hand resting on the doorframe.
But the man called out to stop him, his voice carrying a rare magnetism. “Xiuran, stay here and explain this to me first.”
“Dad.” Wen Xiuran’s voice held an unusual trace of guilt as he averted his gaze toward the room.
The window at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar, and a cool breeze drifted in, gently lifting the hems of their clothes. “He used an inducer on me… I lost control of myself a little. But I didn’t mean to.”
The explanation sounded feeble, riddled with holes. Wen Xiuran had never been close to anyone since childhood, and now that something like this had happened, he found himself at a loss.
Wen Muchen stood with his hands clasped behind his back in the long corridor, his expression tinged with confusion. He shook his head slowly and said, “Xiuran, inducers don’t work on S-rank alphas. Most inducers on the market are produced by our company, and you’ve participated in clinical trials. You should know exactly how it feels to be injected with one.”
Wen Xiuran nodded silently. Since childhood, he had been involved in various clinical studies, and his glands had undergone numerous surgeries. He was all too familiar with the sensations.
The dim light cast shadows across his face, making his expression appear even more somber.
“Do you like him?” Wen Muchen suddenly asked.
“No!” Wen Xiuran immediately retorted, then caught himself, his tone stiff as he added, “It might be because the medication I’ve been taking for my hormonal imbalance amplified the inducer’s effects.”
His emotions were complicated. In truth, Wen Xiuran was somewhat angry, but seeing Shen Yan injured like that also made him feel guilty. In all his years, this was the first time he had encountered someone so reckless.
“I see.” Wen Muchen stroked his chin thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes slightly with a probing gaze before crossing his arms and smiling. “So, your hormonal imbalance is because of him. But there’s no need to take medication for that. If you like him and he likes you, once you graduate from university, your father can arrange an engagement for you. It’s about time you settled down.”
Wen Xiuran looked up, feeling as though his father had become a stranger.
“I’ve thought about it, but…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Shen Yan was a beta without pheromones, and alphas needed a partner to soothe them.
Wen Muchen paused, then asked, “A beta?” His gaze turned cool as he looked at Wen Xiuran, his tone carrying a hint of warning. “Don’t forget, your mother was also a beta.”
Wen Xiuran didn’t respond, merely lowering his eyes slowly.
His mother had been an ordinary beta. After enduring a difficult labor to bring him into the world, she passed away a few years later due to severe complications.
Because of the union between an alpha and a beta, Wen Xiuran had been born only as a B-rank alpha—far from sufficient for the future heir of the Wen Group. Without hesitation, Wen Muchen expanded his business empire into the field of inhibitor research, sparing no resources to help Wen Xiuran achieve a secondary differentiation.
“What’s his name?”
“Shen Yan. ‘Yan’ as in ‘language.'”
“You two can discuss the rest. Yan Yan is a beta—he’s probably suffered a lot. When you’re together in the future, you’ll need to be patient with each other.” Wen Muchen took a deep breath, his expression tinged with melancholy. “Don’t end up like your mother and me, both too stubborn because of an arranged marriage, missing out on so much for so long.”
Wen Xiuran had almost no memory of his mother. As a child, he had suffered a severe illness that wiped away all his memories before the age of five. He nodded slightly, his expression somewhat solemn.
“I understand.”
The corridor lights cast a dim yellow glow, and the surroundings were silent.
Wen Muchen glanced out the window, choosing not to intervene too much. He left the decision to Wen Xiuran, gave his shoulder a light pat, and then turned to leave.
Wen Xiuran pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling a surge of timidity. He took a deep breath and still walked toward the room.
As soon as he closed the door behind him, he turned to see the nurse reaching out to pull back the blanket.
Wen Xiuran’s heart lurched in panic. His steps instantly quickened, covering the distance in a few long strides, his voice unconsciously rising: “What are you doing?”
“Applying medicine,” the nurse replied, looking confused, holding an open tube of ointment. “What if the wound gets infected?”
Wen Xiuran’s expression remained cold and unyielding as he unceremoniously snatched the ointment away, inadvertently releasing a powerful pheromone pressure. His tone was clearly displeased: “Let him apply it himself when he wakes up.”
At this moment, Wen Xiuran’s ears were slightly red, and he kept his head turned away, silent. All he wanted was to find a place to hide. Even facing the unconscious Shen Yan made him feel awkward. But leaving outright would seem too deliberate.
Torn by this dilemma, Wen Xiuran appeared somewhat uneasy. He slowly sat down on the carpet beside the bed, his gaze fixed on Shen Yan’s pale face. Remembering that the other seemed particularly fond of luxury goods, he lowered his head and transferred a sum of money to Shen Yan via WeChat.
Shen Yan lived in a shared dormitory, and every day, his body carried the mixed scents of various alphas—something Wen Xiuran found unbearable. It suddenly occurred to him that he owned a flat near S University. Perhaps transferring the property to Shen Yan later would be a good idea.
What should he do next?
Wen Xiuran leaned against the bedside, staring intently at Shen Yan. Unconsciously, he tightly grasped Shen Yan’s hand, carefully examining his fingernails. Each nail was smooth and rounded, neatly trimmed with faint pink hues, the surfaces glossy and even, the tips slightly curved in perfect proportion.
A random thought crossed his mind: Do all artists have such beautiful hands?
After inserting the IV needle, the nurse instructed, “Then you can stay here and watch over him. This is an anti-inflammatory drug. Once it’s done, he’ll be fine.”
Wen Xiuran nodded absentmindedly, lowering his head to compare his own palm with Shen Yan’s outstretched one. Shen Yan’s hand was fair and soft, his skin as delicate as fine jade, with faint blue veins visible on the back. His fingers were long and straight, the joints well-defined.
In contrast, Wen Xiuran’s own palm was broad and thick, exuding strength but slightly rough. Though his fingers were also long, they lacked Shen Yan’s delicate grace.
The nurse sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. After packing up, she left without another word, muttering sourly under her breath, “I’ve heard that alphas get clingy after marking someone, but this is the first time I’ve seen one this clingy…”
Upon hearing these words, Wen Xiuran silently withdrew his hand, thinking to himself that perhaps it was because he had bitten Shen Yan’s gland that he suddenly felt compelled to do so much for him.
He noticed the torn clothes scattered on the floor, and his mind involuntarily flashed to the image of Shen Yan’s distressed expression. Hastily, he picked up his phone and carefully selected and purchased several new outfits for him.
As he filled in the measurements, Wen Xiuran’s face flushed slightly. Although Shen Yan had never told him his exact size, for some reason, he seemed to know them instinctively.
After the IV drip finished, Wen Xiuran carried the unconscious Shen Yan into the bathroom.
The bathroom was filled with a faint mist, and droplets of water clung to the white tiled walls. The sink counter was neatly arranged with toiletries—toothpaste and a toothbrush standing quietly in a cup, emitting a subtle hint of mint. The mirror was heavily fogged, only vaguely reflecting the blurred outlines of their entwined figures.
Warm water cascaded from the showerhead, splashing into countless tiny droplets with a soft, rhythmic patter. The water danced across Shen Yan’s skin, mingling with the lingering sweat before trickling down the graceful curves of his body.
Wen Xiuran’s breathing grew unconsciously ragged, and the sound of his heartbeat seemed unnervingly loud in the quiet bathroom.
Time slipped away silently, like an imperceptible stream.
Though the entire incident had been orchestrated by Shen Yan, Wen Xiuran feared that his own loss of control in the heat of the moment might have frightened him.
He had never comforted anyone before, nor did he know how to coax someone. These things felt even more challenging than winning first place in a competition.
In the past, waiting a full day and night for experimental results had felt fleeting.
Now, every second felt agonizingly slow.
After cleaning up, Wen Xiuran gently laid Shen Yan back on the bed, his movements carrying a tenderness he himself hadn’t realized. Then, he settled onto the nearby sofa, his gaze never once leaving Shen Yan.
The room was so quiet that only their breathing could be heard. Shen Yan’s breaths had steadied considerably compared to earlier.
Remembering that Shen Yan had mentioned thirst earlier and that it was long past mealtime, Wen Xiuran glanced at Shen Yan’s gradually regaining complexion. Sensing signs of him waking soon, he decided to call the front desk to order a meal.
But not long after Wen Xiuran stepped away from the bedside, Shen Yan slowly stirred awake.
His eyes fluttered open, still dazed, as if not yet fully emerged from the haze of unconsciousness.