But his gaze swept to the divider that had already been lowered before Qiu Zheng got in the car.
That hidden restlessness… Perhaps it had already started at that moment.
As they neared the hotel, Qiu Zheng could feel the man’s body growing increasingly tense, like a wild beast coiled to strike. She quickly spoke up: “I need to eat first.”
“Huh?” Wen Yan’s voice was husky. Even his usually indifferent eyes now held a strange glint, making Qiu Zheng feel momentarily dazed.
“Because there’s a big dinner tonight,” she answered meticulously, “I didn’t really eat lunch.”
She needed to save her appetite—if he dragged her straight into the room, like last time… she’d starve.
When she said “big dinner,” Wen Yan’s earlobe seemed to tint pink, though she didn’t know why.
Seeing it, Qiu Zheng hastily clarified, shocked: “I mean an actual big meal, not… you.”
Wen Yan straightened his expression: “I never said that.”
But your expression says otherwise!
What kind of “big dinner” are you? Swan meat?
The car went straight to the parking lot. Once it stopped, Qiu Zheng quickly got out, but Wen Yan showed no intention of moving.
“You go to the restaurant first.”
He said this, and she didn’t ask further, just nodded vaguely and left.
Only after her figure disappeared did Wen Yan retract his gaze, leaning back and closing his eyes to calm the storm of agitation inside him.
Thanks to his extraordinary self-control, otherwise an alpha in heat could never endure such teasing.
There were suppressants in the car; using one now would have been the most practical choice.
Yet, inexplicably, he didn’t want to.
How long has it been since he last used it?
When Wen Yan reappeared, he had changed clothes, his hair still slightly damp—apparently he had taken a shower first.
Qiu Zheng assessed him, her gaze briefly scanning a certain area but daring not to linger.
Really, she had done a lot of useless things and revealed nothing useful. If she asked about her pheromones again, would Wen Yan still think she was trying to seduce him?
Forget it—next time.
“I’ve already ordered the dishes,” Qiu Zheng said, trying two dishes she hadn’t tasted before.
Wen Yan hummed in acknowledgment and sat opposite her.
Once he sat down, the waiter immediately served the dishes. Qiu Zheng first tried the new dishes… ugh, they were awful! What a waste. She pushed the plate toward Wen Yan, forced a smile: “You try it, it’s really good.”
Wen Yan picked up his chopsticks and took a bite as she wished. The taste was terrible, but since she said it was good, he politely hummed in response.
After that, the plate she had praised was left untouched.
For some reason, Wen Yan thought of his colleagues in the lab, sometimes complaining while chatting: “Ugh, my wife, whenever we go out to eat, always shoves the leftovers and things she doesn’t like onto me.”
Though complaining, there was a note of sweetness Wen Yan couldn’t understand.
What’s sweet about being treated like a trash bin?
Yet now, his chopsticks repeatedly picked at the dish Qiu Zheng didn’t like. The previously unappetizing taste somehow seemed to carry a new flavor.
Qiu Zheng was pleased—she thought he must really like it. Next time, she’d order it again!
While she was enjoying her meal, she noticed Wen Yan pushing a box toward her.
“What’s this?” she asked.
He casually said, “Open it and see.”
Inside was a set of emerald jewelry—earrings, necklace, bracelet, all matching.
But that wasn’t the point. The key point… wasn’t this the jewelry her friend Ru Xuan had just endorsed? She glanced at Wen Yan, whose gaze casually lingered on her, almost expectantly.
Should she show a surprised smile?
As she barely lifted the corner of her mouth, he spoke: “Forget it, you don’t need to smile.”
He lifted his glass of red wine, looking slightly frustrated.
Qiu Zheng cautiously asked, “Why are you suddenly giving me this?”
Wen Yan looked at her: “Wasn’t it sent to you by you?”
She finally realized—he was referring to the official announcement video of Ru Xuan’s endorsement. She had no idea Wen Yan had specifically asked the tech staff to restore it—she had only withdrawn it because she had accidentally sent it to him.
Quickly explained: “I actually sent it to a friend. I only withdrew it because I sent it to you by mistake.”
Someone who doesn’t reply to his messages, but chats with others.
Qiu Zheng didn’t notice Wen Yan’s expression, only ran her hand over the jewelry box.
The smooth velvet felt nice. Optimistically, she thought, “Well, at least it helps her sales.”
She took out her phone to snap a photo—if some troll confronted her later, she could post it.
“Is there a purchase record?”
Wen Yan was momentarily stunned.
“Or a receipt works too.”
“Yes.”
“Can I have it?”
“Yes.”
Satisfied, Qiu Zheng closed the box and pushed it back. “The gift isn’t necessary—I don’t like wearing this stuff anyway.” Looking at the sales, she added warmly: “Besides, what I like isn’t jewelry, it’s people.”
People?
Wen Yan didn’t pay much attention—he vaguely remembered the video featured a woman.
“Do you want to meet her?”
“Huh?”
“That person,” Wen Yan couldn’t recall her name, “if you really like her, I can arrange a meeting.”
“No need,” Qiu Zheng quickly refused. Even if she was a fan, she wasn’t that crazy. With her social anxiety, meeting someone would just be awkward.
Wen Yan said nothing, didn’t touch the box, simply sipped his wine. Even with a calm expression, Qiu Zheng could sense a trace of irritation radiating from him.
After a moment, he put down the glass.
“Qiu Zheng.”
She looked up.
“Based on the data we have, almost no one can resist the effect of a 100% match.”
Qiu Zheng didn’t understand.
Wen Yan glanced at her: “I mean, our agreement is mutually beneficial. Perhaps I was too harsh before, but in the future, if you need it, you won’t have to restrain yourself so much—I’ll cooperate.”
Restrain? Qiu Zheng tried to recall—wasn’t that only when she had to hold back during angry moments?
Wen Yan seemed about to say more, but his phone rang, interrupting him. His expression darkened; he picked it up without looking, ready to hang up.
After hanging up, the call came again.
Qiu Zheng urged, “Maybe it’s important? Should you answer?”
Wen Yan looked at her, then finally stood: “I’ll take it.”
He held the phone but didn’t immediately answer.
Wen Yan needed to process the surge of emotions in his chest.
He thought perhaps his assistant was right: his initial coldness had taught Qiu Zheng to hide herself. But saying all that earlier—wasn’t he essentially saying he permitted her to have some improper feelings for him?
Then what? If she became obsessed, loving him to the point of losing herself, what could he give back?
Still, Wen Yan had to admit—he hadn’t known that giving gifts could be this… pleasurable. From planning, selecting, waiting to see her reaction, to seeing her use the gift—every step brought joy far beyond the value of the gift itself.
But Qiu Zheng refused.
Her decisive refusal made Wen Yan wonder—was she rejecting the gift, or him?
It made no sense. Her eyes were too pure, showing no trace of restraint.
It seemed true… only he was affected.
Finally, in a quiet place, his phone rang again. Wen Yan exhaled lightly before answering.
It was a friend from the Genetic Management Bureau. The moment he picked up, the friend’s excited voice rang out:
“Wen Yan! I have something to tell you—a major discovery! You won’t believe it!”
Wen Yan wasn’t curious. He still wondered whether he should discuss it with Qiu Zheng first. He absentmindedly hummed.
The friend continued, used to his unresponsive tone: “There’s something wrong with Qiu Zheng’s match.”
Wen Yan’s expression changed.
“What?”
The man on the other end, manipulating data on his computer, spoke excitedly: “Your match isn’t 100%—yes, using her as the reference for you gives 100%. But reverse it—using you as the reference for her? Guess what? Zero. The match is 0.”
Wen Yan fell into long silence.
He seemed to need time to process this, then spoke again, still calm but with a trace of ridicule:
“If your bureau’s system is this outdated, I can fund an upgrade.”
His first reaction—disbelief.
Indeed, match percentages are naturally reciprocal. So using either person as a reference, the result should be the same.
How could two different numbers appear?