It was as if the boiling thoughts in his mind had finally calmed, and the effect of the match had dropped to its lowest.
But now… what was she doing?
Why had she suddenly replied to his messages?
And she didn’t just reply once—two messages.
According to Wen Yan’s prediction, she shouldn’t have responded at all, or at most, replied with a simple “received.”
This sudden hot-and-cold behavior—what new trick was this?
Wen Yan’s finger hovered over the screen. He forced himself to think of all sorts of random things, trying to suppress the joy swelling in his chest.
But the more he tried to restrain himself, the more those thoughts surged.
Could it be that she had seen how cold he had been recently and decided to change tactics?
Perhaps, as the assistant had suggested, she really was restraining herself.
But this woman… her tactics were endless, her tricks ever-changing.
Impossible to defend against. Wen Yan thought.
The next day, Qiu Zheng timed her departure carefully.
Just as she stepped outside, the rain began to fall unexpectedly.
She didn’t have a dedicated parking spot in the complex, so she had to find a spot somewhere inside. Last time she returned, she had parked a little farther because there were no spots. The rain had just started—though heavy, it wasn’t torrential yet.
Her umbrella was in the car, so she planned to dash straight over.
But she hadn’t gone far when the rain began to intensify. Qiu Zheng ran a few more steps against the downpour, then had to take shelter under a nearby carport.
Within moments, her hair was damp. She sighed, looking up at the curtain of rain. She actually loved the rain—but only when she didn’t have to go out.
Such heavy rain… perfect for lying in bed and listening to it!
What to do? She didn’t want to go anymore.
She pulled out her phone, considering sending Wen Yan a message to change the time, or asking him to use a pheromone suppressant. Surely he would understand in such weather.
As she typed, a car slowly stopped in front of her.
It was Wen Yan’s car.
A middle-aged man got out, holding an umbrella and running up to her: “Miss Qiu!”
Hah, today he was considerate enough to send his driver. No chance of ditching her now. Qiu Zheng could only smile and close her phone as she got in.
When the door opened and she saw the man in the back seat, she froze again.
She had assumed Wen Yan had just sent a driver—but he had come himself. He hadn’t stepped foot here since their first meeting.
The man was still in a perfectly tailored suit, head leaning back on the seat with his eyes closed. The back seat was spacious, enough for those strikingly long legs to stretch.
He looked tired, resting.
Qiu Zheng instinctively wanted to close the door and sit in the front seat. But before she could, Wen Yan’s voice sounded, calm yet commanding:
“Get in.”
By now, she was wet from the rain, and the driver wasn’t holding the umbrella for her. This time she didn’t hesitate—she quickly got in and sat down.
Soon after, the driver took the wheel.
The divider between front and back was down, so she couldn’t see the road ahead, only felt that the car had started moving.
Usually, Wen Yan drove himself. This was the first time they rode together in the back. Qiu Zheng curled up by her door, keeping some distance from him.
“I can drive myself, you know.” she said.
“Rainy day. Unsafe.”
This time, she simply thanked him without further comment.
The car fell silent—so silent that without the rain outside, Wen Yan wouldn’t have known if he could even hide his heartbeat.
He had been here for a while already, parked nearby, watching Qiu Zheng shelter from the rain.
This scene felt familiar.
Indeed, Wen Yan had visited her even before their formal meeting.
The genetic database had matched him to a 100% counterpart and notified him immediately. When Wen Yan came to meet her, she was handing out flyers in a bear costume on the street.
Cute as the costume was, it somehow conveyed a hint of vulnerability.
Late summer heat pressed down, and Wen Yan imagined the temperature inside that suit. He could feel the discomfort in his chest, but couldn’t distinguish whether it was pity, compassion, or something else entirely.
Regardless, he thought: feeling this way toward someone you just met could only be the match at work.
He didn’t act—he waited until Qiu Zheng finished work.
He saw her collect her daily wages, buy a flatbread, and eat while waiting for the bus. That was when the downpour hit, forcing her to huddle closer to the bus shelter.
The driver sent to pick her up was his assistant, who seemed to pity the situation: “Professor Wen, should we take her home?”
There was a note of reluctance in his voice.
Rain blew through the open window. Wen Yan rolled it up, closing his eyes.
“Back to the company.”
The car passed her by without a glance, just as the assistant later said—initially, he was cold.
He didn’t want to become a puppet, controlled by pheromones and matching scores.
He had lines he would not cross.
Even now, that was his thinking. But where exactly was the line? From the moment he came to her door, it felt like it had already retreated again and again.
He turned to look at the woman, silent since getting in, curled up by the door.
Her hair was slightly damp.
Wen Yan recalled her at the bus stop, eating her bread, hair wet, unsure if it was sweat or rain.
Now, an even more intense suffocating feeling fermented in his chest.
“Sit closer.”
The sudden voice made Qiu Zheng turn, seeing Wen Yan holding a towel.
He was going to dry her hair?
She hadn’t really gotten wet, so she instinctively refused: “No need, it’s already dry.”
Seeing him unmoved, she said again: “Then I’ll do it myself.”
But this time, Wen Yan leaned over, long arm reaching, one hand resting on her waist.
Qiu Zheng didn’t react in time. The next moment, her body was lifted off the seat. She gasped in surprise, and being forced to straddle him face-to-face, instinctively hugged him.
Wen Yan glanced at her arms. His usually tense expression finally softened slightly.
“Don’t move,” he said.
As a writer, Qiu Zheng knew better than to move in such an awkward position. She froze, trying to avoid sensitive areas, letting the towel cover her hair while he moved gently.
She glanced up—so close, a face devastatingly handsome.
Despite staying up late every night, his skin looked flawless.
Envy.
The towel set aside, Wen Yan’s grip on her waist didn’t loosen. He leaned in, sniffing her neck lightly.
Qiu Zheng shifted uncomfortably. Realizing the danger, she dared not move.
“Are you wearing perfume?”
“Huh?” Qiu Zheng blinked. When she looked at him, she caught a flicker of displeasure in his eyes. “I used it yesterday…”
So lasting? It still lingered?
Ordinarily nothing, but his mentioning it made it feel deliberate.
“Still any left? I can’t smell it anymore.”
Wen Yan hummed: “Different from your pheromones.”
Qiu Zheng’s eyes brightened at the word pheromones. Pretending not to care, she asked half-jokingly, “Then what does my pheromone smell like?”
She was genuinely curious, but in Wen Yan’s ears, it sounded like something else.
Asking about her pheromones was subtly seductive.
He exhaled in relief—this woman did have feelings for him. She was trying to seduce him.
The man pressed his lips to hers. “In the car… we can’t do anything else.”
Wen Yan didn’t want anyone else to hear or smell anything.
Qiu Zheng froze. She wasn’t asking about that—she was asking about pheromones. Why did he think she was trying something?
She looked into his normally calm eyes, now swirling with dark, familiar desire she had only seen in the bedroom.
She finally remembered—he was in heat. Some alphas and omegas wouldn’t even leave home during this period. His self-control was so strong it was easy to forget.
The warmth of his lips was delicate, brief—less than two seconds—before turning into a storm more intense than the rain outside.
Qiu Zheng could only passively endure his urgent demands. No matter how she tried to dodge his tongue, he caught her, their entanglement leaving her nearly breathless.
She instinctively leaned back, but Wen Yan straightened to follow, his hips moving as well. She panicked and bent forward, afraid to rise. His body stayed still, but the motion of his waist didn’t fully stop.
With each movement, she could hear his gradually heavy breathing and the soft exhalations of pleasure escaping his throat.
And of course, more direct reactions.
Qiu Zheng’s face flushed completely.
Damn it, doing this here—what would the driver think? Was she even human anymore?
Aside from kissing, Wen Yan hadn’t done anything else.
He justified it in his mind—it wasn’t “in the car,” and she had been the one to tempt him first.