After silently harboring some suppressed annoyance, Qiu Zheng finally opened the door.
The room was lit by a lamp, probably left on when Wen Yan had gone out. Qiu Zheng sensibly let him go in first, and the man didn’t hesitate or offer any courtesy—he simply walked past her.
Qiu Zheng followed him inside and closed the door behind her.
When she turned around, she saw that Wen Yan had stopped a few steps away.
She was puzzled and was about to ask, “Why aren’t you moving?” when the person turned around suddenly, facing her.
“Wen… mmm~” The sound trailing off was swallowed by his lips.
She didn’t even see Wen Yan’s face clearly before she was pushed back a few steps, her back hitting the wall. A hand supported the back of her head—not painfully, but completely immobilizing her.
Qiu Zheng had never seen Wen Yan like this.
He seemed to have completely shed his usual refined demeanor, transforming into a predator; every movement was raw, possessive, and domineering.
From such a close distance, Qiu Zheng saw emotions in his eyes she had never noticed before:
anger, unwillingness, even a hint of grievance. She tried to push him away, but the chest that was usually easy to move now felt like a wall of bronze, immovable. Only now did she realize how restrained Wen Yan had always been.
But there were things she didn’t know—like the alpha pheromones filling the room, entirely unrestrained.
Overwhelming.
And her resistance seemed to ignite his desire further.
His kisses became even more forceful. Noticing her weakening legs sliding against the wall, he stretched out his long arms and lifted her.
Wen Yan didn’t try to control his pheromones. He even thought—
“Isn’t it supposed to be high-level pheromones?”
“Isn’t it said that if one wishes, it can make anyone submit?”
He had always hated using pheromones to pressure others, and rarely did so unless provoked.
But right now, such thoughts crossed his mind. Even if there was no matching score… even without it, surely the pheromones would affect her, right?
They should have an effect. She’s an omega; it couldn’t possibly have no effect.
His kisses were almost feral, his hands never still.
Even when he had been more urgent after being apart for two months, it had never been like this…
Surely WK isn’t going bankrupt, right? Is he trying to make up for lost time all at once?
When their lips finally parted, Qiu Zheng gasped violently. Wen Yan’s lips lingered at her ear: “Do you feel it?”
“It’s not zero, right? Hm?”
His tone was strange, as if he were suppressing something. Qiu Zheng vaguely responded, because she wasn’t numb—how could she feel nothing?
While lost in thought, she was lifted into the air, instinctively wrapping her arms around him.
His hands supported her back. Unable to reach her lips, he moved inside the room, nibbling her jaw instead.
Qiu Zheng scrunched her face and shifted upward, exposing the vulnerable neck.
Wen Yan bit lightly, not hard, but it startled her into lowering her head, almost seeming to seek his lips.
When he placed her on the bed, his breathing was heavy and ragged.
Yet, despite the intensity in his eyes, he unbuttoned his shirt slowly and deliberately, undoing each button, then loosening his belt and trousers.
Seeing her reaction through the thin fabric, Qiu Zheng swallowed nervously. They had only… just entered the room, hadn’t they?
And yet, it was already this… noticeable?
She couldn’t smell his pheromones, nor was she in heat. But being human, desire was normal.
So Wen Yan’s heightened sensitivity period actually benefited Qiu Zheng as well. Of course, it would have been better if he had been slightly more restrained.
The room’s temperature kept rising.
Wen Yan looked at her face, tainted with desire, breathtakingly beautiful.
No longer carefree and indifferent like usual.
Yet even so, he still couldn’t smell Qiu Zheng’s pheromones; all that lingered was her jasmine perfume.
A restless frustration rose in him, and his body burned hotter.
He tried to transmit that heat through his lips and hands. Her skin was so fair and tender that even a little extra pressure or a slightly stronger bite left marks.
On her pale skin, blotches formed.
Wen Yan’s pheromones had been chaotic for some time, something he hadn’t taken seriously. But now, that chaos seemed to reach its peak.
The frenzy of his pheromones, the agitation of his body, slowly consumed the clarity in his eyes.
Would she react like him?
Like him—aroused by her scent, wanting to hold her hand, wanting to embrace her, wanting to kiss her from the moment she stepped in.
His body had become addicted, having endured the two months apart rather than taking a suppressant.
Enduring.
Since meeting Qiu Zheng, his most frequent act has been endurance.
But so what? He kept telling himself this was merely physiological liking, easily manipulated by matching scores.
But what about Qiu Zheng?
Did she like him physiologically too?
Zero…
Wen Yan suddenly froze, staring at her.
The woman, caught off guard, opened her misty eyes, a hint of confusion: “What’s wrong?”
She had desire but wasn’t addicted.
Not like him… not like him—abnormal.
Even if it wasn’t 100%, even if it was unequal… zero?
How could it be zero? She had made herself like this. Why was she still zero?
From the start, he had avoided thinking about this, but now the thought sprang up, snapping the taut string in his mind.
A flash of emotion surged into Wen Yan’s eyes, as if filled with hatred. In Qiu Zheng’s panicked gaze, he bit her neck.
The gland area.
By now, Wen Yan’s eyes were bloodshot.
Desire—or something more.
He had never truly marked Qiu Zheng, not even a fleeting thought. Occasionally, he might have bitten her lightly, but it was always surface-level.
Not marking was a rule, the one red line in his list.
But now, he seemed to have forgotten everything, left with only a vague thought:
If there’s no matching score, if pheromones can’t attract her…
Then what else? What else is there?
It seemed there was only… marking.
He shouldn’t be doing this, he should hesitate, but his bite had no pause.
“Wen Yan!”
The woman’s voice resisted strongly, but he pressed down firmly.
The pheromones she had long hidden were finally released under his own influence, surrounding him so completely that it felt intoxicating, as if he could die right there.
Qiu Zheng realized he had bitten the gland.
She was terrified for a moment—afraid she didn’t have it, afraid she was a freak.
But also afraid if she did, knowing that for an omega, being marked meant total submission, dependence, and loyalty.
For alphas, it’s a declaration of ownership, just as the name implies.
Fortunately, she didn’t feel anything unusual.
Except for a slight sting, she might have thought she truly didn’t have it.
Yet Wen Yan’s entire body trembled, low guttural moans escaping his throat. Qiu Zheng could feel him pressing closer, moving instinctively against her.
That scorching closeness was impossible to ignore.
Qiu Zheng froze, her face burning. Without looking at him, she already knew how uncontrollable he was.
It was as if he were the one being marked.
Until he finally stopped and let out a muffled groan, burying his face in her neck before straightening up.
Qiu Zheng met his bloodshot eyes.
Wen Yan hadn’t fully come down from the peak; the last vestige of reason barely held, maintaining a cold calm.
Yet… it felt so good.
He had thought he already understood the physiological liking caused by matching scores, had experienced the ultimate pleasure, but still lost control just now.
Wen Yan stared at Qiu Zheng for a long time before hoarsely asking: “You’re still not affected… right?”
Qiu Zheng froze.
He had long since lost his usual icy demeanor; the desire lingering in his slightly reddened eyes seemed almost like she had bullied him, needing comfort.
Embarrassed, Qiu Zheng scratched her head.
“You must… be under too much stress. It went a bit fast, but don’t worry, I know you’re not usually like this. This has to be just an accident.”
No one knew his abilities better than Qiu Zheng. Given the duration just now, it was indeed incomparable to before, and they hadn’t even removed their clothes.
Wen Yan paused for a moment, then his vulnerability melted away, replaced by a smile—not warm, but edged with a hint of grit.