The Little Flying Stick and the Big Hook
“Do you want to see its big hook?”
Hearing this phrase, Cen Xie really couldn’t hold it together; his lip twitched.
Fortunately, his head was down, so 9111 didn’t see it.
Seeing that he didn’t speak, 9111 thought he was being shy and leaned in even closer. “Didn’t you come here looking for a thrill?”
As if his thoughts had been guessed, the Omega lowered his head and uneasily swirled his glass, offering no denial. This was clearly the reaction of someone seeking pleasure for the first time, confirming 9111’s suspicions.
He then scrutinized the Omega’s face. Many male Omegas wore light makeup. In the eyes of an Alpha, male Omegas also belonged to the “female” category, and social conditioning made them very concerned with their appearance.
But this person’s face showed no trace of makeup; it was a natural, beautiful complexion. Whether as a romantic encounter or on any other level, 9111 felt he was a top-tier catch.
If they were compatible, developing a long-term “friends with benefits” relationship with this Omega would be perfect.
The Omega was silent for a while before asking softly, “To your place?”
9111 stood up. “Let’s go.”
Watching Cen Xie and 9111 leave the scene, Ying Zhu drained the wine in his glass, set it down, and left the private room as well.
….
9111 got into the naive and beautiful Omega’s luxury car, his head still feeling light. He couldn’t control the urge to wrap his arm around the Omega and tease him.
The Omega dodged him, his eyes first darting nervously toward the driver in the front before casting a reproachful look at 9111. He then turned his face away and stared out the car window in silence.
9111 raised an eyebrow and looked at him without speaking. This kind of Omega who loves to put on an act becomes incredibly slutty once they’ve been fucked through. At that thought, his “big hook” instantly became spirited.
On the way, 9111 took a call from the friends he had abandoned at the bar, asking why he had suddenly left. 9111 ambiguously hinted at his romantic encounter to his friends, his tone carrying an irrepressible smugness. Cen Xie sat obediently to the side, listening as if shy.
The Omega’s driver took the two of them to the base of 9111’s building. It was an old residential area; the soundproofing was likely average. Cen Xie thought to himself that he should be careful not to disturb the neighbors when he started moving later.
They climbed the dim stairs to the third floor and stopped at the door at the end of the hallway. 9111 pulled out his keys and opened the door.
Before he even had a chance to reach for the light switch on the wall by the door, the person behind him suddenly lunged. A sharp, powerful kick sent him flying directly into the vast darkness of the room.
9111 crashed into a chair with a loud clatter, tumbling into a mess. He heard the door close, and even the faint, dim light from the hallway vanished.
The next second—Click!
The lights were slapped on. 9111 scrambled to turn over, only to see a pair of feet slowly walking toward him.
He looked up.
The aura of this Omega had been completely swapped, as if a layer of human skin had been torn away. The naive and simple obedience was gone, replaced only by bloodthirsty ferocity. His eyes held a hauntingly beautiful murderous intent, looking exceptionally terrifying under the lights.
9111: “You—”
He barely managed a word before the Omega grabbed the hair on the back of his head. A massive force hoisted him up; his vision blurred as his head was slammed violently against the wall.
9111: “You mother—”
Another slam.
9111: “Holy shi—”
Another slam.
For every curse he uttered, Cen Xie slammed his head against the wall. After several rounds, 9111 was dizzy, seeing stars, and his mouth could no longer stay tough; he just huffed and puffed, panting heavily.
Cen Xie clearly knew how to deal with this type. Without a word, he started with a lethal beating to crush any thought of fighting back. Only after suppressing him psychologically and physically could the next part be handled easily.
9111 was clearly beaten senseless. His face was covered in blood. After Cen Xie threw him onto the floor, he didn’t counterattack; he just looked at the Omega in terror.
Cen Xie stepped on his chest with one foot, leaning over to peer at him with a faint smile on his face. “Come on then. Let me see your ‘big hook.'”
Cen Xie didn’t look like he was using much strength, but he was actually stepping on 9111’s chest with a dull, agonizing pressure that made it difficult to breathe. Panting, 9111 tried to move Cen Xie’s foot away.
The next second, Cen Xie delivered a fierce kick. The force was raw and heavy; his toe likely shattered 9111’s jawbone, as the sound of bone cracking was audible.
Like a fish hooked by the mouth and hauled ashore, 9111 was kicked a distance away. The back of his head hit the ground hard, and a mist of blood sprayed from his mouth.
By now, 9111 didn’t even have a chance to fight back. He propped himself up with his hands, looking at Cen Xie in disbelief—how could an Omega have such strength?
At this point, Cen Xie no longer restrained his aura; it was fully unleashed. 9111 felt a pressure similar to Ying Zhu’s, finally realizing that this Omega was also an S-rank.
Cen Xie squatted down, tilting his head to look at him, still smiling. “You’re not actually very good at fighting, are you?”
This sentence was the conclusion to the question he had asked in the bar: “Are you very good at fighting?” His tone could even be called gentle, yet the end of it carried an icy, menacing challenge.
Choking on blood, 9111 couldn’t stop coughing. His voice was raspy and choked as he asked, “Who… who exactly are you?”
Cen Xie found it too tiring to talk to him with his head bowed, so he suddenly grabbed his throat, gradually increasing the force as he lifted the man up.
The Alpha’s tall, burly physique was powerless against Cen Xie’s absolute strength. His eyes bulged as he was strangled, able only to make raspy, gasping sounds.
After lifting him by the neck, Cen Xie casually tossed him onto the sofa against the wall.
Then, Cen Xie sat down on a chair opposite the sofa, staring straight at him. “Tell me. You said you read that memory card many times, right?”
When he said “many times,” he emphasized the words heavily, with a sense of grinding his teeth.
Memory…
9111’s terrified voice squeezed out of his throat, sounding strained: “Did… Ying Zhu send you?”
Cen Xie looked at him with a sinister, shadowed gaze. “What should I do? I’m actually very angry right now. I have half a mind to dig your brain out.”
9111 stammered, “But what does this have to do with you? Who the hell are you?”
Cen Xie studied him for a moment before asking, “How did it feel to read my memories?”
9111 froze for two seconds before the realization hit him. “It was you?” he asked, incredulous.
Cen Xie didn’t answer, continuing to stare at him with a gloomy, sullen face.
9111 had known the owner of the memory was an Omega because of the subtle physiological differences experienced during the playback. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the owner of those memories would come looking for him directly.
Expressionless, Cen Xie drew a sharp dagger from his lower back. He grabbed 9111’s jaw, turning his head as if searching for something specific.
9111’s skin crawled. “What are you doing?”
Cen Xie’s fingertips pressed firmly a few centimeters behind the man’s temple. He stopped at a specific spot, his voice calm. “It’s here, right? I remember the artificial hippocampus is implanted right around here.”
9111’s eyes widened in sheer terror. He began to struggle violently, but after only two heaves, Cen Xie delivered a sharp chop to the nerve bundle at the back of his neck. 9111 went limp instantly, his strength draining away.
Cen Xie rested the tip of the blade against the spot he had felt. With a slight nudge, the sharp point pierced the scalp. Blood flowed out immediately like a warm little snake—a harbinger of death—winding its way down toward his neck.
“I don’t actually need you to tell me who has the memory card,” Cen Xie said tonelessly. “I can just dig out your artificial hippocampus and find someone to extract the data.”
Brain death wipes artificial hippocampus data, but physically excavating it from under the skin does not.
9111 screamed in agony, his spirit completely broken by the fear of being scalped alive.
As Cen Xie skillfully worked the blade, he chatted as if they were old friends. “Your friends all think you’re having a passionate night with me right now. Do you think they’ll notice something is wrong first, or will I find them first?”
“Hmm? Who do you think is faster?”
9111 panicked completely. “The card isn’t with my friends! It’s here, with me!”
Cen Xie’s blade paused. He tilted his head, his eyes full of suspicion and violent intent.
“Really! How would I dare give something like that to those guys?” 9111 cried.
Cen Xie figured 9111’s friends were likely just like him—untrustworthy and driven by profit. It made sense that 9111 wouldn’t trust them. The man had been lying from the start, betting on the fact that Ying Zhu wouldn’t dare take the risk.
Cen Xie released him and commanded, “Get it.”
Enduring his terror, 9111 clutched his head and stood up, staggering toward a cabinet by the wall. He pulled out a small iron box with a combination lock, opened it, and handed a memory card to Cen Xie.
“This is the one.” 9111 pointed to the VR headset on the table. “You can check it.”
Given his past experience with being set up by Zhou Nan, Cen Xie had no intention of reading the card there. He pulled out his phone and made a call.
Minutes later, Ying Zhu pushed the door open and walked in.
9111’s eyes sharpened when he saw him, casting a hateful glare. Cen Xie immediately slammed a fist into the side of 9111’s head. “Try staring at him again.”
9111 staggered, blood from his head splattering across the floor in small dots. He didn’t dare speak again.
Ying Zhu didn’t look at 9111. He took the card from Cen Xie, plugged it into the VR headset, and read it. After a few seconds, he took the headset off and nodded to Cen Xie.
Cen Xie turned back to 9111. “Are there any others?”
“Just that one.”
“Oh, really?” Cen Xie narrowed his eyes. “I think I’ll dig out that hippocampus just to be sure.” He pressed the blade back behind 9111’s temple.
9111 was terrified, screaming his lungs out in a desperate guarantee. “Really! Only that one! I’m not lying to you!”
Satisfied, Cen Xie let out a cold snort and nodded to Ying Zhu.
Ying Zhu understood. “I’ll wait for you in the car.” He left with the memory card, leaving the “clean-up” to Cen Xie.
……
Left alone with 9111, Cen Xie stared at him in brooding silence.
Under that gaze, 9111’s mental state crumbled. He begged for mercy. “What else do you want? Just say it, I’ll cooperate with anything.”
“Good. One last question.” Cen Xie leaned down, looking 9111 straight in the eye. “Where did you get this memory card?”
……
About half an hour later, Cen Xie emerged from the apartment entrance. Passing a trash can, he wiped his blood-stained dagger on his sleeve to remove any fingerprints and tossed it inside.
He had extracted the name of the supplier from 9111, and he had forced 9111 to transfer all memories related to that night over to him. No trace of the night remained. When 9111 woke up tomorrow, he would only find a mysterious wound on his head with no memory of how it got there.
He reached the car parked at the curb. Through the window, he saw Ying Zhu in the back seat. He pulled the door open and climbed in, only to be hit by a powerful wave of osmanthus scent.
Ying Zhu’s face looked pale—unnaturally flushed. Cen Xie blinked. “Do you have a fever?”
Ying Zhu shook his head. “Heat.”
His heat was already due, and reading the memory card he’d just taken from 9111 while waiting in the car had added fuel to the fire.
Cen Xie instinctively glanced at the driver. Fortunately, the driver he’d brought that day was a Beta; otherwise, he would have had to kick the man out of the car. If an Omega in heat shares a space with an Alpha, it can easily trigger the Alpha’s rut—especially S-rank pheromones, which act like a sensory bomb.
Ying Zhu had previously used a powerful suppressant during the prison break, which meant this delayed heat was returning with a vengeance. In just those few moments, the entire car was thick with the scent of osmanthus.
Cen Xie told the driver to head straight back to his residence in the Eastern District. He rolled down the windows to let the night air in and rummaged through the glove box. He couldn’t find any suppressants; they had used the last one recently.
Beside him, Ying Zhu was hunched over, curled up like a shrimp.
Cen Xie urged the driver to go faster while calling Chen Jiu. “Chen Jiu, I’ll be home in thirty minutes. Get a high-strength suppressant ready for me.”
“Understood,” Chen Jiu replied, then hesitated. “Chairman, is your heat here? Should I send an Alpha to your room?”
Send an Alpha to your room?
The word “Alpha” triggered a sudden explosion of rage in Ying Zhu. Normally, he might have controlled his emotions and his strange possessiveness over Cen Xie, but trapped in the whirlpool of heat, his self-control was non-existent.
In his irritation, he reached out, grabbed the phone from Cen Xie’s ear, and hurled it out the car window.
Cen Xie: “…”
He turned in shock to look at Ying Zhu, who had already turned back to look out the window as if he wasn’t the one who had just destroyed private property.
Since he wasn’t finished giving orders, Cen Xie told the driver, “Call Chen Jiu.”
While the driver dialed using the car’s hands-free system, Ying Zhu suddenly lunged and wrapped himself around Cen Xie, burrowing into his arms. He rubbed and nuzzled against him, letting out anxious, low whimpers like a temperamental little animal.
When the call connected, Cen Xie spoke first. “Don’t send anyone to my room.” He patted Ying Zhu’s back as the man clung to him. “Also, clear the area around my house. No Alphas allowed within a five-mile radius.”
“Yes, sir.”
By the time the call ended, Cen Xie’s shirt was a mess. Like someone driven by animalistic lust after too much to drink, Ying Zhu tore at Cen Xie’s shirt, popping several buttons. He began nuzzling and kissing Cen Xie’s skin.
Cen Xie tried to soothe him while holding him back. “Hey, hey! We’re still outside.”
Ying Zhu wasn’t listening. His hands didn’t stop. He shoved his hand inside Cen Xie’s shirt, pressing against the skin and burrowing into his chest like a hungry cub.
Cen Xie, helpless, could only let him nuzzle. He stared at the car ceiling and asked, “How is your heat this intense?”
S-rank heats are fierce, but S-ranks also have immense willpower. Normally, someone as disciplined as Ying Zhu wouldn’t be this out of control.
Ying Zhu didn’t answer. He knew deep down he was doing something shameful, but the primal instinct drove him to keep touching Cen Xie. His whole body was screaming for contact. He even took Cen Xie’s hand and placed it on his own chest, whimpering, “Touch me.”
“…” Cen Xie felt the skin beneath his hand was burning hot. He swallowed and gave a few gentle, light strokes, not daring to use any pressure.
Ying Zhu was clearly dissatisfied with such gentleness. He lunged forward, pinning Cen Xie down against the seat.
Before he was flattened, Cen Xie scrambled to hit the button to raise the privacy partition, sealing the back seat into a small, private space.
Before he could say a word, Ying Zhu kissed him, sealing his lips.
Ying Zhu sat on Cen Xie’s lap, his tongue darting in hungrily as he let out a soul-stirring low moan from the back of his throat. Cen Xie hesitated, then placed his hands on Ying Zhu’s waist, stroking the skin as he began to respond to the heat-fueled, passionate kiss.
As they kissed, Cen Xie suddenly gave a sharp shudder.
Ying Zhu unexpectedly reached down directly toward Cen Xie’s abdomen, muttering as he felt around: “Little flying stick…”
Cen Xie: “…”
Ying Zhu’s tone was frantic, half-command and half-pleading, sounding almost like a sob as he urged: “Hurry up… use your little flying stick to fuck me.”
Cen Xie remained silent for a moment, then used some strength to brace himself upright. He reached out and, without a word, moved toward Ying Zhu’s waist to undo his belt.
Ying Zhu, dazed and blurry-eyed, didn’t resist when he saw Cen Xie undoing his belt; he obediently let him pull it away.
Once the belt was off, Cen Xie grabbed Ying Zhu’s hands and pressed them together, whispering: “Line your hands up.”
An Omega in heat becomes extremely submissive, willing to cooperate with anything. Ying Zhu obediently aligned his hands.
Cen Xie looped the belt into a circle, coaxing him: “Be good, put your hands in.”
Ying Zhu’s IQ had plummeted. He thought back to the memory card they had just read. In that memory, his hands had been tied. The sensations of being pinned down by Cen Xie, the violent thrusts, and the soul-piercing penetration all flooded back to him. His expression then had looked blissful, as if he were being made to feel incredible.
At that thought, Ying Zhu’s eyelashes trembled. He cooperatively put his hands into the loop, then raised his head like a fool, looking at Cen Xie with an expectant face.
He hoped Cen Xie would treat him just like in that memory card.
As soon as Ying Zhu fell into the trap and put his hands inside, Cen Xie gave a sharp tug—clack, clack, clack—the belt locked tight, binding Ying Zhu’s hands together.
Then he patted Ying Zhu’s cheek: “Behave yourself. I’ll give you a suppressant when we get back.”