The family was already gathered for the traditional union tea ritual (Jìng Chá).
It was a strict old mountain baseline.
The ancestral stone walls seemed to absorb the heavy silence of the room, turning the historic hall into a frozen fortress.
General Gu Zhen sat in the heavy mahogany armchair at the head of the room, his face an unreadable military slate.Beside him, Gu Mingzhu stood with her hands folded, her eyes tracking the ivory and gold robe on the Qing – a Beta’s shoulders with an immediate, sharp intake of breath.
The ancestral Gu robes were only brought out for an accepted partner.
Seeing those sacred family patterns draped over a scentless outsider felt like an open defiance of their ancient bloodline rules.
It was a visual shock that challenged her pride.
The old butler presented a heavy silver tray containing two delicate porcelain cups filled with a hot red date and longan brew, the traditional union blend meant to bind the couple’s loyalty to the family lineage.
According to ancient custom, the new couple had to kneel side by side, hold the cups with both hands, and present them to the patriarch in a unified front of domestic submission.
Qing stepped forward, his face completely calm, and knelt onto the red silk cushion without a single word of protest.
His movements were smooth, efficient, and entirely dignified despite the heavy gold-threaded hem dragging behind him.
Canglong stepped up beside him, his silver-embroidered cuffs catching the amber nightlights.
His jaw was locked as he forced his rigid, military skeleton to bend, kneeling down next to the scentless Beta.
The physical proximity was suffocating.
Canglong’s unmedicated Enigma heat was a heavy gravity in the narrow gallery, but Qing’s pulse remained at a flat, unbothered rhythm.
The dense pressure of the Enigma aura active in the room could easily bring an ordinary partner to their knees, yet the man beside him breathed as if they were sitting in a quiet corporate office.
He showed zero vulnerability under the crushing weight.
They reached out simultaneously, their bare hands lifting the heavy porcelain cups from the tray.
The movement required them to act as a flawless unit, their shoulders brushing briefly a sudden, intense contact that made Canglong’s tendons tighten under the pressure.
They held the cups out in unison, bowing their heads at the exact same ceremonial angle.
“Grandfather,” Canglong delivered the formal line, his voice carrying the clipped, tight friction of a soldier under orders.
“Please accept the union tea.”
“General Gu,” Qing added smoothly, his quick wit ensuring his tone matched Canglong’s cadence perfectly so the household staff wouldn’t log a structural glitch.
“The alliance is served.”
Gu Zhen looked down at them.
His sharp, experienced eyes tracked their posture, noting the tight, locked tension in Canglong’s shoulders and the complete lack of genuine biological submission in Qing’s steady, scentless stance.
They were performing under protest, but they were performing flawlessly.
The old general picked up the cup, took a measured sip of the hot liquid, and set it down with a clean, sharp clack against the saucer.
“The alliance is acknowledged,” Gu Zhen delivered the absolute mandate.
As they stood up from the cushions, the old butler stepped forward to clear the cups and presented the final ceremonial barrier: a silk cushion resting at the very threshold of the bridal chamber.
On top of it sat a single, massive, glossy red apple symbolizing Ping’an for the newly registered household.
According to custom, before stepping over the threshold, the groom must take the apple, and the bride must bow her head and submissively bite into it while the groom holds it, sealing her domestic deference before the family.
Canglong stood at absolute military attention.
He picked up the heavy red apple with his bare fingers, holding it out at arm’s length like he was handling a live grenade that he had been ordered to deploy under protest.
His eyes glared down at Qing, a silent, furious mandate flashing in his pupils: Bite it so we can leave.
Qing looked at the apple.
Then he looked up at the towering Commander.
He ran the social metrics in half a second.
He had absolutely zero intention of leaning forward, tilting his head submissively, and performatively biting fruit out of the Enigma’s hand like a delicate Omega.
He refused to give this ancient family the satisfaction of seeing him play a submissive role.
His autonomy was simply not up for commercial negotiation.
With a completely pleasant, neutral expression, Qing stepped forward.
He didn’t bend his neck.
Instead, he reached up, placed his own bare hand directly over Canglong’s fingers, and gripped the apple with him.
The physical touch was immediate and stark.
The unmedicated Enigma heat radiated straight through Qing’s palm, a sudden skin-on-skin contact that made Canglong’s tendons tighten under the pressure, but the Beta’s pulse didn’t scatter.
With their hands locked together on the single piece of fruit, Qing turned his head slightly and took a sharp, clean, crunching bite out of the side facing him.
Then, without releasing his grip, Qing tilted the apple to the left, pushing the unbitten side directly against Canglong’s closed, rigid lips.
“Your turn, Long-ge,” Qing said smoothly, his quick wit perfectly clear.
“Grandfather is watching the metric stability.
Eat the peace.”
Canglong’s chest heaved.
A micro-vibration of pure irritation rippled through his jaw.
Under the unblinking, dark gaze of his family, Canglong snapped his teeth down, taking an aggressive, sharp bite out of the fruit with enough force to nearly cleave the core in half.Beside the cushion, Gu Mingzhu stiffened, her tea cup rattling sharply against its saucer.
A wave of complete shock and profound unhappiness flashed across her face, her aristocratic features locking into a mask of deep displeasure.
Qing was the bride.
Qing was the one who was supposed to submit, to bow his head, to accept the protocol.
Forcing her son, the supreme vanguard weapon, to performatively bite from a Beta’s hand was an absolute inversion of every social order she had spent her life maintaining.
It was a blatant display of independence that completely disrupted the family’s expectations of control.
It proved that this union would follow no ordinary rules.
The old general didn’t frown.
Instead, behind the severe, military lines of his weathered face, his sharp eyes flashed with a sudden, profound delight.
He watched Qing stand completely upright, entirely unbothered by the Enigma’s presence, effortlessly turning a submissive trap into a tactical draw.
The patriarch didn’t want a fragile ornament for his grandson; he wanted an anchor.
And seeing how cleanly, how easily this scentless Beta could out-manoeuvre and handle Canglong’s explosive Enigma pride without shedding a single tear proved his hidden calculations were entirely correct.
“The peace is consumed,” Gu Zhen delivered the absolute mandate, his voice carrying an underlying layer of rare satisfaction.
“Enter your chamber.”
The household attendant lit the dragon and phoenix candles at dusk exactly as General Gu Zhen had instructed.
Then she set a tray of wedding night tea on the side table, two cups, a small pot of red date and longan brew, a plate of sesame candies wrapped in red paper bowed with the specific, carefully neutral expression of a woman who had worked in this mansion for eleven years and had learned that the correct response to unusual domestic situations was absolute professionalism and immediate departure.
She departed.
The heavy timber door clicked shut behind her.
The bridal chamber went quiet, save for the crackle of the dragon and phoenix candles throwing long, warm shadows across the red silk panels.
The window showed the mountain going dark against the evening sky, the pine trees becoming black shapes against the last pale light.
Qing looked at the wide bed.
The dates, peanuts, and lotus seeds that Canglong had systematically cleared to the side table this morning had been meticulously returned to their original position across the red bedding by some unseen domestic intervention.
Every item was arranged perfectly, a silent reminder from the estate handlers that the traditional marital script could not be deleted so easily.
The family script demanded total compliance.
Canglong looked at the bed.
Then he glared at Qing.
Neither of them backed down an inch.
The heavy air inside the locked chamber was thick with a new, quiet standoff that had nothing to do with corporate contracts and everything to do with personal space.
They stood like two opposing generals inside a narrow battle trench.
Just when Qing and Canglong started to settle down, they heard someone whispering from the other side of the wall.
It was Chenwei.
Chenwei’s voice came through the thick wood panels of the wall at this precise moment.
Not loudly, but the timber structure of the old mansion carried sound in a specific, low-frequency hum that neither of the men inside could ignore.
He was clearly conducting a highly sensitive phone call in the adjacent suite, entirely indifferent to the structural layout.
“…yes the welcome lunch went well.”