“I’ve wronged you,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you.”
The words make it up to you carried a heavy weight, and for some reason, Qiu Zheng felt a rising sense of foreboding.
By now, she had lost count of how many times this had happened. The woman in his arms was truly exhausted and had fallen asleep halfway through, leaving only an instinctive reflex to resist whenever he got close.
Desire didn’t dissipate easily, but he ultimately feared she couldn’t handle it.
“Still… dare to provoke me?”
Wen Yan muttered in complaint, yet he unconsciously lost himself in her face. So beautiful, he thought—maybe the matching score had put a filter over his eyes.
But in Wen Yan’s eyes, she was genuinely beautiful.
He touched her face, unable to resist kissing her forehead, then her eyes, nose tip, and cheeks. There was no desire in these kisses, yet he seemed endlessly delighted.
Until the sound of a new message on the phone reached him.
He didn’t respond immediately, first making sure to kiss every corner of her face before finally getting up from the bed. He went to where he had tossed his suit, picked it up, and checked the phone.
It was from Xu Cheng, containing all the information about Mu Yifan that he had compiled.
Wen Yan glanced at the person on the bed. Without his interference, she seemed to sleep even more soundly.
He quietly went to the living room and opened the files on his computer.
Mu Yifan, compared to most betas, was indeed much more outstanding.
A good family background, smart since childhood—everyone had assumed he would develop into an alpha, but unexpectedly he became a beta. Even so, he still graduated from a prestigious university.
His post-graduation resume was impressive; a year ago, due to his exceptional appearance compared to ordinary betas, he entered the entertainment industry as an actor.
Currently, his status was just lukewarm—not rising fast, not failing.
After all, the entertainment industry was full of striking alphas and omegas.
He had a rather casual attitude toward life.
The files were brief, but by the time Wen Yan finished reading, he had already smoked his third cigarette.
He had even gone through Mu Yifan’s medical reports. Not bad, indeed—but he was a beta. Unless it was a severely defective alpha, he couldn’t compare, let alone with himself.
Yet such comparisons brought Wen Yan little comfort.
The beer can in his hand was crushed in an instant, and he opened another can, drinking it down in one gulp. The beer was cool, but it couldn’t quench the agitation in his heart.
He appeared calm in front of Xu Cheng, but in reality, just thinking about this zero matching score made his chest feel like it had been pierced with needles.
Zero.
The matching score… was zero.
How could such an illogical thing exist?
Yet all the doubts he had ever had surged wildly in his mind.
One by one, every bit of her indifference and lack of concern seemed to serve as proof: indeed, he wasn’t a perfect match for her.
Even if it wasn’t supposed to be perfect… how could it be zero?
Genetically speaking, did he truly have no attraction to her?
Did she really not like him at all?
Those words he had once said about not needing to restrain himself now seemed almost laughable.
In just a short time, Wen Yan had thought of many things—even recalling the first time he met her and watched coldly from the sidelines.
His past arrogance, indifference, and overconfidence might largely have depended on the certainty of the matching score.
He knew no one could resist a 100% match—just as he had thought, Qiu Zheng would eventually fall for him, helplessly.
But now… how could this happen?
It was so unfair.
Wen Yan was probably a little drunk. He pressed his hand to his forehead and thought: this… was too much.
She even had an eighty-percent match with someone else.
Amid the anger and frustration was also panic.
What did eighty percent mean?
It meant that one day, she might feel an uncontrollable desire like him.
Perhaps only eighty percent—or… even one percent…
Wen Yan stubbed out his cigarette, abruptly stood up, and went back inside.
Now, there was only one person who could calm his emotions. But the moment he lay down next to Qiu Zheng, she half-awakened, sniffed, furrowed her brow, wrapped herself in the blanket, and rolled to the other side.
Still mumbling:
“Smoker.”
“Drunkard.”
“Really annoying.”
Those last words made Wen Yan’s face go pale.
He had thought his pheromones would overpower her, but evidently, she was more sensitive to these smells than to his own pheromones.
Wen Yan went to the bathroom. Only after removing every scent did he return to bed.
Qiu Zheng, having wrapped herself completely in the blanket, still slept at the edge of the bed. She had woken briefly before, but now was asleep again.
Wen Yan tugged the blanket little by little until he was fully under it, pressed close to her.
Yet he could only see her back.
An alpha’s sensitivity period isn’t only physical; it’s also an extreme psychological need for reassurance from their partner.
In this respect, Qiu Zheng had never been a particularly competent partner. But that suited Wen Yan—he didn’t see himself as fragile.
Yet now, gritting his teeth, thinking alternately about the zero and her “really annoying,” he felt completely overwhelmed by the self-loathing of being disliked by someone he loved.
Finally, Qiu Zheng turned over in her sleep. With no unpleasant scent, she no longer resisted and simply found a comfortable position to continue sleeping.
Wen Yan’s expression softened gradually. He touched the gland area on her neck, feeling calmer.
Though Qiu Zheng had been marked, Wen Yan had the strange sensation that he was the one being claimed. Wrapped in his dependence on her, he held her close, feeling her head against his chest, finally satisfied enough to close his eyes.
Qiu Zheng felt as though she had passed through another timeless day.
Once, waking briefly, she found Wen Yan sitting nearby.
Leaning against the headboard, his upper body bare, she could only see his perfect jawline.
But she was in no mood to admire it. She quickly closed her eyes, afraid he’d notice she was awake. This wouldn’t do—going a month without… she really couldn’t bear it.
Soon, she heard him moving.
Rustling sounds, then quiet. She peeked, squinting, and saw him lying on his side, one hand propping up his head, staring at her intently.
Their eyes seemed to meet…
Never mind—if she pretended to sleep, Wen Yan couldn’t wake her.
This beast of a man could make staring an act of seduction. He looked as if everything he wanted belonged solely to her.
Wen Yan, of course, knew she was awake. He stared until Qiu Zheng couldn’t resist opening her eyes.
You can’t wake someone pretending to sleep, but you can stare them awake.
She glared, irritated, when Wen Yan suddenly asked: “Do you like my pheromones?”
Qiu Zheng felt like a student suddenly woken by the teacher walking past her desk—fully alert.
This was a question she really couldn’t answer.
Actually, it was simple to say yes, but she feared he’d keep questioning her.
She blinked and finally answered: “No one can resist your pheromones, but… I think what really attracts people to you isn’t your pheromones.”
After all, she couldn’t smell them.
What she appreciated was his body.
Of course, that was in the past. Now Wen Yan had become unbearably hot, and she couldn’t handle it.
Honesty was always the most lethal weapon. Her words were half sincere. As soon as they left her mouth, she could feel him soften, and the oppressive tension around them eased considerably.
Wen Yan looked at her a while longer, then asked: “Then what is it that makes me attractive?” He seemed to think for a moment, perhaps afraid she wouldn’t answer, and even offered options: “My personality? Or my intelligence?”
Qiu Zheng nearly choked on her own frustration. Such enviable confidence—what if he had said he was rich?
Hard to answer.
“What was the previous question? Oh right, pheromones. Actually… I really do like your pheromones.”
A deadly question might not kill you, but an insincere one could cost your conscience.
Keeping her conscience intact meant endless days and nights without respite—even eating in the room.
It wasn’t until Qiu Zheng got truly annoyed that Wen Yan finally let her go.
She sat at the edge of the bed, charging her phone, while water ran in the bathroom. After days without touching her phone, she finally saw the messages she hadn’t had time to check.
A message from the Genetic Management Bureau:
“Ms. Qiu, congratulations on your one-year acquaintance with Mr. Wen. As a rare 100% genetic match, you are now invited to complete the following survey.”
A link followed.
Qiu Zheng wasn’t sure if Wen Yan had deleted her previous messages and this was a re-sent version.
She clicked it directly. It was indeed a survey, mostly asking about satisfaction with her match.
Ah, this was familiar to Qiu Zheng.
Satisfied, satisfied, very satisfied.
Anyway, that was the only way to fill it out. How could she honestly say dissatisfied? It was purely formal.
Yet, as she filled it in, thinking about these past days of “darkness without light,” a surge of resentment rose. Then she thought: Wen Yan surely isn’t satisfied with me, either. If I mark myself satisfied now, will he think I’m a frog trying to eat a swan?
Qiu Zheng shivered and began changing her answers.