The Actor
“I found it.”
Cen Xie’s face was so red that Ying Zhu felt a sense of impending doom. They had already done every outrageous thing imaginable in the previous cards; he was curious—and terrified—to see how much more “animalistic” they could get.
Hesitantly, he put on the other VR headset and began reading their sixth memory card alongside Cen Xie.
…..
The setting was a bed. Faint morning light filtered through the curtains. Ying Zhu knew it was morning because of the distant chirping of birds and the specific “scent” of dawn. Had they been awake all night?
Through Cen Xie’s tear-blurred eyes, the only thing visible was the swaying ceiling. Ying Zhu’s first thought was: Why is he crying again?
Cen Xie was sobbing while talking dirty: “I want to have your babies.”
Ying Zhu’s voice sounded overwhelmed: “Fine, fine, we’ll have them. Just stop crying.”
Cen Xie whimpered twice, satisfied, then asked smugly, “Tell me… am I good to fuck?” He intentionally wrapped his legs tightly around Ying Zhu.
Ying Zhu sounded like he was at his limit, pressing down on him and gasping for air, unable to speak.
Cen Xie: “Does it feel good to be inside me? Hubby, say something.”
Ying Zhu remained silent for a moment before asking, “What did you call me?”
After being so scandalous, Cen Xie suddenly turned shy. A few seconds later, he called out in a raspy voice: “Hubby.“
That word seemed to flip a switch in Ying Zhu. His breathing became heavy, and his movements turned fierce. Cen Xie cried out, his throat sounding constricted, making small, breathless sounds. “I’m… I’m gonna…”
Ying Zhu hooked Cen Xie’s legs over his shoulders. “Not yet, wait for me.”
“Mhm…” Cen Xie sobbed, touching himself with a look of desperate longing. “Then hurry up.”
Ying Zhu paused for a second; it was clear he had said “wait for me” casually, but Cen Xie was being incredibly obedient. It was that same self-sacrificial, masochistic compliance.
Their breathing intertwined, the heat rising like a wildfire. Passion peaked, lust lingering and swaying, until the surging waves of tremors finally broke. They reached climax together. The frantic song of love dissolved into quiet sobbing; the vibration of soul and flesh took a long time to still.
Ying Zhu leaned down and kissed Cen Xie. In that sticky, humid morning, mixed with the sound of birds outside, Ying Zhu’s voice sounded romantic and soft, like a tragedy: “Let’s get married.”
He said it again: “Let’s get married.”
Cen Xie’s lips trembled from his heavy breathing. He answered with a kiss, tears flowing down his face and into his hair. Ying Zhu leaned down and kissed the tears away.
…..
The memory ended there.
When they took off the VR headsets, the study was silent. All noise had faded, leaving only the faint, floating scent of osmanthus. In the dim light, hearts were wavering.
Cen Xie kept his eyes half-closed. “Your pheromones are leaking again.”
Ying Zhu instinctively moved to cover his neck, then realized it was unnecessary. Cen Xie was an Omega; he wouldn’t be affected. But that was the point—Cen Xie was an Omega. Why had Ying Zhu been so…
They had actually reached the stage of planning a marriage back then. Yet, for some reason, that promise had never been kept. And now, by a twist of fate, on the very day they actually registered their marriage years later, they had rediscovered the moment the promise was first made.
Cen Xie didn’t speak. He didn’t even look up, appearing busy and focused on sorting the remaining cards.
Suddenly, Ying Zhu saw a shimmering drop fall from Cen Xie’s lowered face. He froze. “Cen Xie, are you crying?”
Cen Xie’s hands stilled. After a moment, he looked up, his eyes red and shimmering with tears. Ying Zhu stared into those eyes, feeling the weight of the emotions within them. A long, low tolling of a bell seemed to ring in his heart, its vibration lingering.
In that quiet, prolonged gaze, the air around them seemed to solidify.
Cen Xie was the first to snap out of it. He turned his face away. “I’m fine. It’s just… since it’s my own memory, it’s a bit…”
Ying Zhu couldn’t experience it firsthand, but he could guess. Cen Xie’s feelings while reading those memories were likely very different from his own.
Technology allows one to experience the five senses of a memory’s owner, but no matter how real it feels, it remains someone else’s story. For Cen Xie, it was different. Those were his actual experiences; for him, it wasn’t just reading data—it was reclaiming himself. Perhaps certain emotions buried in the deepest parts of his soul were surging back to the surface along with the data. In that memory, Cen Xie had been crying.
Ying Zhu wanted to ask him: When I mentioned marriage, why did you cry? But on second thought, Cen Xie probably didn’t know the answer himself.
Cen Xie began screening the remaining cards. After trying a few, he took off the VR headset. He didn’t say a word, but silently handed the other headset to Ying Zhu.
This memory card began with a violent tide, crashing against the senses with absolute ferocity. Cen Xie’s dominance was overwhelming; Ying Zhu was pinned so thoroughly he couldn’t even speak, able only to let out trembling gasps. It felt like being swept into a violent sea where every breath was a plea for help.
Ying Zhu, driven to the brink by the relentless pace, couldn’t stop crying out. He tried to “escape” in a moment of collapse, only to be ruthlessly pinned back down by Cen Xie. The physical intensity lasted for several minutes—Physical-type ability users possess terrifying stamina; Cen Xie’s breathing hadn’t even faltered.
Finally, he slowed down. Ying Zhu panted heavily, looking like a shipwreck survivor who had barely cheated death. His eyes were unfocused and dazed.
Cen Xie began to move with gentle, shallow strokes. He leaned into Ying Zhu’s ear and whispered, “Did you learn how to do it just now?”
Ying Zhu let out a sobbed “Mhm,” his voice trembling and damp, like the humid air of a rainy season.
Cen Xie whispered again: “Next time, do it like that. To me.”
Ying Zhu swallowed hard and whispered, “Okay.”
……
The reading ended.
The two of them removed their headsets in total silence, heads hanging low as if they had committed a grave crime. For the first time, Ying Zhu understood what it meant to be so ashamed he couldn’t lift his head. It was mortifying. How could they have been so unhibited? Even if Cen Xie’s actions were more “shameless,” Ying Zhu felt he didn’t deserve any sympathy for playing along.
They might as well dig a hole and bury themselves alive.
The rest of the cards were screened. With the hour growing late, Cen Xie fled Ying Zhu’s house like a fugitive.
That night, it was unknown how Cen Xie slept, but Ying Zhu tossed and turned until midnight. The images from the cards replayed in his mind: the sadness and tears, followed by the gasps and cries. Lust and sorrow looped endlessly, sparking a series of absurd dreams. In his haze, he kept thinking of Cen Xie’s words: “Did you learn? Next time, do it like that. To me.”
Wait, why? Ying Zhu thought irritably. We’re both Omegas. Why is Cen Xie the one teaching me?
…..
The next morning, Ying Zhu overslept. His driver waited downstairs for over half an hour, not daring to call. The Warden had no boss; at Usher, he was the law. No one dared rush him.
As the car reached the gates of Usher, Ying Zhu was intercepted. The man blocking the car was a prisoner who had been released just two days prior. Ying Zhu didn’t recall his name, only his ID: 9111.
Ying Zhu rolled down the window, frowning. 9111 was an Alpha who had been jailed for a fight resulting in minor injuries. He’d served about six months and had been relatively well-behaved inside. The genetic advantages of Alphas made most of them tall and handsome, and 9111 was no exception. Having shed his grey-blue prison uniform for a black jacket and washed jeans, he looked every bit the rogue.
He leaned down, bracing his hands on the window frame. “Warden Ying, I want to talk.”
Ying Zhu’s frown deepened. “You’re out now. Go live a decent life. I have nothing to say to you.”
He tried to roll up the window, but 9111 pressed his hand down on the glass. The Alpha’s strength was immense; the motor whirred, but the glass wouldn’t budge.
Ying Zhu’s expression turned icy, the light glinting off his lenses. “9111, do you think because you’ve left Usher, I can’t touch you?”
9111 wasn’t intimidated. He looked at Ying Zhu with a predatory glint. “I have a memory card,” he said, then added, “One involving you.”
…..
Ying Zhu brought the man to his office. He sat behind his desk, eyes filled with drifting dark ice. His greatest fear had manifested.
9111 smirked. “It really was you. I wasn’t sure when I first saw you in Usher, but after I got out, I watched the card again.”
Ying Zhu waited before speaking. “Trading restricted memory cards is illegal. Have you not had enough of Usher?”
9111 leaned back arrogantly. “Call the police then. I’ll wait right here. When that card is entered as evidence, it’ll be confiscated by the authorities and watched over and over by the officers. If you don’t mind that, why should I?”
Ying Zhu remained silent.
9111 let his gaze wander over Ying Zhu with insulting boldness. He laughed. “I’ve watched that card so many times lately. I never imagined our icy Warden would be so… Freaky in bed.”
As the word left 9111’s mouth, Ying Zhu’s gaze shot toward him like a sharpened blade.
9111 licked his lips. “I thought you were frigid.”
Ying Zhu stared at him, his pupils like thin sheets of cold glass. “What do you want?”
“I know you’re a Mental-type,” 9111 said. “Don’t try to suppress me. I left the card with a friend. If he can’t reach me in the next hour, he sends it straight to the Special Police Department.” He leaned over the desk, his large frame looming over Ying Zhu. He sniffed the air. “You’re close to your heat, aren’t you? An S-rank, yet you can’t even hide your pheromones.”
Ying Zhu leaned back slightly to maintain distance. “How much?”
“Five hundred thousand in cash. Within three days.”
Ying Zhu knew this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. Even if he paid, 9111 wouldn’t hand over the card.
By the time Cen Xie received the message and rushed to Usher, Ying Zhu was on the phone with his bank manager; large cash withdrawals required an appointment.
Cen Xie frowned. “You’re actually going to pay him? Once you start this, it never ends.” He clearly knew the nature of men like 9111.
Ying Zhu hung up. “I’ll find another way, but I need to stall him first.”
Cen Xie stood up. “Leave this to me.”
“To you?”
Cen Xie pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “I said I’d take responsibility for this to the end. Don’t worry about anything. Just trust me.”
Ying Zhu watched him. “What are you planning?”
Cen Xie’s expression was an icy mask that Ying Zhu found unfamiliar. He said grimly, “I’m going to use the ‘underworld’ way to teach him a lesson.”
……
A lone Omega attracted a lot of attention the moment he walked into the bar. The air seemed to freeze for a second—he was exceptionally beautiful and looked completely out of place.
People noticed him hesitate at the door before gathering the courage to step inside. With an innocent, harmless expression, he lingered toward the bar, sitting down and looking around nervously.
Since his release, 9111 had been living it up with his friends to make up for six months of lost freedom. He was currently at a booth near the bar and noticed the Omega immediately.
The Omega seemed to sense his gaze and turned. When their eyes met, the Omega’s eyes brightened for a split second before he hurriedly, almost clumsily, looked away. Two seconds later, he peeked back at 9111, his thick lashes fluttering with shyness.
After a few more rounds of eye contact, 9111 was certain the Omega was interested. He was just too shy—even the sparks he threw were small and timid.
9111 watched as the bartender approached the Omega. The Omega pointed quickly toward 9111 and said something. The bartender glanced over, nodded, and began mixing a drink. 9111 guessed he had ordered “whatever that guy is having.”
Soon, the Omega was sipping his drink, using the bar’s decor as an excuse to steal more glances at 9111. 9111 decided to see how long it would take for this “timid” little thing to approach him. In a bar like this, a face like that wouldn’t stay unbothered for long.
Sure enough, two Alphas approached the Omega. 9111 watched as the Omega answered them with an air of innocence. Then, something was said that made the Omega shake his head in refusal. One of the Alphas grabbed the Omega’s wrist, attempting to pull him away.
The Omega struggled, his eyes filled with panic. Instinctively, he looked toward 9111 with a pleading gaze.
No man can resist the temptation of playing the hero; it satisfies the dual fantasies of beauty and violence. 9111 set down his glass, stood up, and walked over. Without a word, he floored the Alpha who was clutching the Omega with a single punch.
The panicked and terrified Omega, having regained his freedom, scurried behind him, treating him like a dependable mountain and clutching a small piece of his sleeve.
9111 raised his leg and kicked the other Alpha over as well. He watched as the two men scrambled to their feet, supporting each other, and barked a few threats before they fled the scene.
The crowd in the bar lived for this kind of drama. No one had stepped up when the Omega was being bullied, but now that an Alpha had shown off, a mass of people cheered for him. This provided 9111’s vanity with immense satisfaction; it felt as though he truly had become a hero.
The Omega emerged from behind him and stood before him. The bar’s lights were chaotic and disorganized, making it hard to see a person’s complexion, but 9111 knew just by his expression that the boy must be blushing.
He whispered something, but the bar was too loud. 9111 couldn’t hear him and asked loudly, “What did you say?”
The Omega hesitated, leaned a bit closer with a bashful expression, and spoke into his ear: “Thank you. Let me buy you a drink.”
Just like that, 9111 happily ditched his friends and sat down with the Omega in a corner booth. It was far from the speakers, not as loud, and they could hear each other speak.
9111 scanned the shy Omega with a suave gaze and asked, “Is this your first time in a bar?”
As if feeling embarrassed that his greenness had been caught, the Omega hung his head and nodded. After a moment’s thought, he added, “My family doesn’t let me come to places like this.”
9111 replied, “Your family is right. An Omega coming to a place like this alone is just asking for trouble.”
Upon hearing this, the Omega shot him a glare. It wasn’t fierce; in fact, it looked somewhat pampered, like the look of someone who had been spoiled and wasn’t used to hearing such blunt words.
Seeing that he was dressed cleanly and neatly, in well-tailored clothes and sophisticated accessories, 9111 guessed he was a little young master from a wealthy family who had snuck out to see the world.
At that moment, the server arrived with the drinks. The young master proactively took them, placed one directly in front of 9111, pushed it forward, and said, “This one is on me.”
Having played the hero who rescued the beauty, 9111 felt he deserved this treatment. He took a bold, heavy gulp and asked, “When you first walked in, why were you stealing glances at me?”
The Omega turned his face away, his expression prideful as he said, “I wasn’t looking at you.”
9111 looked at his feigned arrogance, smiled, and said nothing.
Unable to hold back, the Omega sought him out again, asking, “Are you very good at fighting?”
9111 arched an eyebrow and remained silent.
The Omega scrutinized him with the eyes of a “good student,” his gaze falling toward the hem of his shirt. 9111 was wearing a loose shirt that had originally been tucked into his waistband, but it had been pulled out during the scuffle, faintly revealing a tattoo on his lower abdomen.
The Omega looked curiously at the small portion of the tattoo design that was visible, and upon looking up, he bumped right into the Alpha’s gaze. Perhaps because the aggression in the Alpha’s eyes was too strong, the Omega began to avoid his stare; his eyelids fluttered and dropped, making him look innocent and fragile.
Like most Alphas, 9111 liked the submissiveness and flattery of an Omega. Deep down, he felt that the most suitable posture for an Omega was this: head bowed obediently.
9111 generously lifted the hem of his shirt and said, “Want to see it? I’ll show you.”
The Omega slightly lifted his eyelids and took a look. On 9111’s lower abdomen was a tattoo of an extremely fierce-looking scorpion, jet black all over, with powerful, sharp claws—as if it were a malevolent spirit hiding in a ghostly swamp.
Only the upper half of the tattoo was visible; the rest was covered by his waistband, hiding the most exciting part: the scorpion’s stinger.
The Omega’s eyes couldn’t see through things, and he stared at the covered area with a hint of disappointment.
Seeing this, 9111 leaned slightly toward the Omega and whispered in his ear, “Do you want to see its big hook?”
……
Ying Zhu stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of a private room on the second floor, holding a glass of wine. The entire scene on the first floor was in full view, including Cen Xie and 9111 in the corner nearby.
He clicked his tongue; Cen Xie had almost charmed 9111 into idiocy.
Heh. So this was the “underworld way” Cen Xie had mentioned?
Ying Zhu raised his hand and took a sip of wine, continuing to watch the two in the corner. Cen Xie really had a way of dealing with Alphas.
He must have done this quite often, hadn’t he?