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 phone call in the adjacent suite, entirely indifferent to the structural layout.
“…yes the welcome lunch went well.
….no, Canglong looks terrible but that’s his default setting.
The spouse is interesting, actually, very sharp, you’d like him.”
A distinct pause stretched through the adjacent room.
“…no, I don’t know what’s happening in the bridal chamber, I’m not putting my ear to the wall…”
Another pause.
“I’m telling you I’m not putting my ear to the wall, though I’ll bet three sub-contract options Canglong hasn’t even managed to take his coat off without an administrative argument.”
In the bridal chamber, Qing and Canglong had both turned to look at the wall simultaneously.
It was the specific, involuntary movement of two people registering the same external variable at the exact same moment.
Then they both looked away, back to their respective corners, completely ignoring the commentary.
Bedroom warzone:
ROUND 1: The Tactical Floor Space
“The dates are back,” Qing noted, his face an unreadable slate.
He immediately turned toward the decorative timber chest at the foot of the bed.
“I’ll take the floor.
The space along the eastern wall is sufficient for a standard military-grade bedroll.
It solves the proximity variable efficiently and requires no further discussion.”
“You will not take the floor,” Canglong snarled, his voice carrying the clipped authority of a vanguard officer.
“You are registered as my spouse according to the civil decree, the Vanguard registry, and approximately forty sectors of live media coverage.
If my grandfather’s guards find the spouse of the Enigma Commander sleeping on concrete like a court-martialed private on the first night of our visit, the alliance metrics drop by lunchtime.
You will sleep on this mattress.”
Qing paused, his hand resting on the chest lid.
He ran the social risk math.
The Enigma had a point; public exposure of a split room would compromise the Su family’s protection schedule.
Qing let go of the chest lid.
“Fine.
Point taken, Long-ge.”
(Winner – Canglong)
ROUND 2: The Battle of the Window View
“Fine,” Qing said, running the spatial layout math in his head.
“I’ll take the right side.”
“I sleep on the right side,” Canglong countered immediately, stepping forward to block him.
“Since when is there a designated right side of a bed,” Qing said, crossing his arms.
“Since it is my family’s bed in my family’s mansion and I have slept in this room before,” Canglong said, with the absolute, unassailable logic of a man who had just invented a rule and intended to defend it to his last breath.
Qing stared at him.
“You have slept in the bridal chamber?” he said.
A pause.
“The guest room,” Canglong adjusted, his tone clipped.
“Before it was designated the bridal chamber by my cousin and his arts student sister and their collection of symbolic dates.”
“I wake up facing the window,” Qing countered pleasantly, stepping smoothly around the Commander’s broad shoulder and tossing his thin grey civilian jacket directly onto the right pillow, claiming the window view under his own terms.
“I need the right side or I face a concrete wall.
And it won’t be me facing the wall tonight, Long-ge.” Get faster updates on g.com.
Canglong’s jaw tightened.
“I face the window.”
“We can’t both face the window,” Qing said, calmly unstrapping his watch and setting it down on the right nightstand with complete finality.
“And my watch stays on this side.
“Canglong let out a sharp, rigid breath.
He sat down on the left side under protest, thoroughly irritated at losing the window territory.
(Winner – Qing)
ROUND 3: The Fertility Audit
Canglong looked down at the scattered nuts between them, his territorial disgust leaking into his tone.
“My family expects an alliance heir within the year.
My grandfather left this traditional fertility garbage here because he expects a biological result from this room.”
Qing lay back against the pillows, hands tucked behind his head, entirely unbothered by the heavy command aura pressing against the red silk panels.
“Then you should get started on that, Long-ge,” Qing said, his voice entirely dry.
Canglong turned his head so fast his collar crinkled.
“What?”
“You’re the Enigma,” Qing said, looking calmly at the ceiling.
“You possess the ultimate adaptive predatory tier.
Logically, you take the responsibility of giving this family a child.
The fertility sign is for you, not me.”
Canglong’s chest heaved.
“Look at the anatomy, Beta.
That is not how—”
“I am a baseline, scentless Beta,” Qing cut him off cleanly, his tone clinical.
“No reproductive markers, no gland systems to process your stress.
If your grandfather wants a miracle child, he’s targeting the wrong biology.
Handle his expectations yourself.
My accounting only accounts for days, not deliveries.”
(Winner -Qing)
ROUND 4: The 176-Day Counter-Attack
The silence stretched, thick with unresolved friction.
Qing adjusted his blanket, but his foot struck a stray piece of fruit.
“There are peanuts under my left knee,” Qing muttered to the window glass.
“Move your knee,” Canglong snapped from the dark.
“I did.
There are now dates under my ankle.
Your sister used the full ceremonial volume.”
“Xiaolan is committed to everything.
It is exhausting,” Canglong delivered the flat mandate.
He stared at the ceiling, his fingers clenching the edge of his sheet.
Then, his dark eyes cut through the shadows to glare at the Beta’s silhouette.
Qing closed his eyes.
“176 days,” he whispered into the quiet room.
Canglong let out a short, cold, cynical chuckle that cut straight through the dark like a blade.
“176 days,” the Enigma Commander repeated, his voice dropping into a harsh, mocking rasp that carried zero submission.
“Four days down, Ah-Qing.
Trust me, I am counting every single second of it.
The exact moment that clock hits zero, I will personally sign the dissolution papers and throw your father’s sub-contractor insurance into the tower shredder myself.
Don’t think for a second that your little administrative performance has changed my schedule.”
In the dark, Qing went completely still.
The counter-strike was clean, precise, and completely matched his own economic ruthlessness.
(Winner – Canglong.
Resulting in a Tie)
“Good,” Qing said quietly, his jaw tightening slightly against his pillow.
“Then we are perfectly aligned on the exit strategy, Long-ge.”
The final candle guttered out, plunging the bridal suite into absolute, heavy darkness.
They lay apart—rigid, hostile, and completely unyielding—two forces refusing to cross the invisible border of the mattress as the mountain wind rattled the glass panes.
Outside the locked room, the grand corridor of the eastern wing was silent, illuminated only by the low, amber night-lights embedded in the timber floorboards.
Gu Mingzhu stood at the far end of the hallway, near the high arched window overlooking the dark courtyard.
She hadn’t changed into her house robes yet.
She was still wearing her formal day dress, her hands folded tightly at her waist, her gaze fixed entirely on the heavy timber door of the bridal chamber.
The sound of footsteps hummed against the floorboards.
General Gu Zhen emerged from the shadows of the central gallery, his posture straight, his white hair catching the dim amber light.
He looked at his daughter-in-law, his expression carrying the calm, unbothered weight of a patriarch who had spent his entire life orchestrating high-stakes maneuvers.
“You’re still awake, Mingzhu,” the old general noted quietly.
“Canglong is unmedicated tonight,” Mingzhu said, her voice dropping into a tight, strained whisper that barely carried in the empty corridor.
She turned to face him, the careful, aristocratic neutrality she had worn all afternoon finally fracturing to reveal the raw anxiety of a mother.
“You allowed Xiaolan and Chenwei to fill that room with red silk and marriage blessings.
You forced a scentless Beta into his space under the guise of an ancient tradition.”
Gu Zhen remained entirely still.
“The tradition is clear.”
“The tradition was built for an expected Omega, Father,” Mingzhu countered, her eyes flashing with a sharp, protective edge.
“Canglong has spent his entire military career suppressing his internal volatility.
His Enigma classification makes his territorial instincts inherently violent when provoked.
Right now, he is locked inside a room designed to mock his expectations, tied to a marriage built entirely on corporate fraud.”
She looked back at the closed timber door, her fingers tightening against her sleeves until her knuckles went pale.
“You think you have calculated a stable baseline,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with an upcoming dread.
“But I know my son.
He is a weapon that has been pushed past his limit today.
By forcing this adjustment on him, you haven’t secured an alliance.
You have locked an apex predator inside a cage with a baseline civilian and I am terrified of what is going to be left of that Beta boy by the time the morning sun hits that window.”
The old general didn’t answer.
He simply looked at the door, his eyes dark and completely unreadable.Inside the room, the mountain dark pressed heavily against the glass.
And the apex predator lay wide awake in the silence, his jaw locked, utterly unaware that the hurricane his mother was fearing had already met its match in a scentless Beta who was currently sleeping with a peanut on his nightstand.
A scheduling glitch ate the original slot, but here is the chapter!