The heavy titanium doors of the cathedral vestry slammed shut with a dull, pressurized thud that rattled the brass fixtures on the walls.
The muffled roar of the media drones and the suffocating perfume of the high-society crowd were instantly cut off, replaced by the deep, rhythmic hum of a military-grade air filtration system.
This wasn’t a bridal suite.
It was a high-security holding room, lined with soundproof slate-grey panels and lit by cold, recessed fluorescent bars.
A heavy steel conference table occupied the center of the floor, surrounded by bolt-down chairs that felt entirely clinical.
Shen Qing didn’t wait to be directed.
He reached up, unpinned the heavy scarlet veil with efficient movements of his fingers, and tossed the mesh onto the metal table.
Without the red fabric clouding his vision, the room became clear.
He took a slow, deep breath of the filtered air, deliberately turning his back to the man looming near the threshold to check a small, raw scratch on his left wrist where the heavy bridal jewelry had snagged his skin.
He didn’t shiver.
He didn’t look up to gauge the room’s temperature.
Across the floor, Commander Gu Canglong ripped off his white ceremonial gloves, throwing them onto the table with a sharp smack that echoed off the soundproof panels.
The heavy military medicine patches on his neck were visibly dark, straining under the sudden heat of his skin.
His broad shoulders remained tensed under the midnight-blue fabric of his dress uniform, his jaw locked tight enough to make a small vein pulse near his temple.
“Why the hell are you here?
Where is Ah-Ce?” Gu Canglong’s voice dropped into a gravelly whisper that sapped the remaining warmth out of the room.
Shen Qing slowly unbuttoned the top two buttons of his tight red collar, letting his shoulders drop in a casual, relaxed posture.
He leaned back against the edge of the metal table, his gaze drifting lazily up to meet the Enigma’s furious stare.
“My father and your grandfather are the right person you should ask this question to Long ge.” Shen Qing replied calmly.
“A placeholder,” Gu Canglong snarled.
He took two massive steps forward, his boots clicking heavily against the concrete floor.
The sheer size of his silhouette blotted out the fluorescent light overhead, casting a dark shadow over the red silk pooled at Shen Qing’s feet.
He didn’t unleash his aura—his grandfather’s warning was still active in his earpiece, but his physical proximity alone was a threat.
“A calculated, shameless swap.
Your father thinks he can hand me a counterfeit to save his manufacturing licenses, and you willingly walked down my aisle to secure a piece of my family’s military power?”
Shen Qing blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy with a exhaustion that had nothing to do with fear.
He looked down at the gold embroidery on his own sleeve, then let out a short, dry chuckle.
“Power?” Shen Qing asked, his movement casual as he crossed his ankles.
“You think I want to be locked in a room with a living weapon?
Look at me, Long ge.
I don’t have a scent.
I don’t care about your titles.
To me, this uniform you’re wearing is just an expensive logistics expense.
I didn’t choose this altar.
And most importantly, we both are man with same physical requirement, what do you think would I get from you or what would I be able to provide you in this relationship.
You don’t think I would leave Su Ruo for your so called power and title.
My father used the survival of innocent people to force me into these clothes.
If I could have left before the vows, I would have taken the first train out.”
Gu Canglong’s eyes narrowed into dangerous, icy slits.
He faintly remembered the would be fiancee of Shen Qing.
Though he had never met her but he had heard of Qing being very serious in that relationship.
It didn’t matter earlier but now when Qing was the one who had taken marriage vows with him some time ago and now mentioning his girlfriend, was somehow irritating to Canglong’s ears.
He felt a pin in his chest that he couldn’t understand.
He was used to Omegas shivering at his shadow and Alphas dropping their gaze to protect their pride.
But this scentless creature was looking at him with absolute detachment.
There was no fear, no greed, no hidden ambition in those dark eyes.
Just a cold, calculating intellect that treated this high-stakes confrontation like a basic ledger balance.
And yet, every time Gu Canglong’s gaze tracked the tiny, dark mole beneath the Qing’s right eye, his mind experienced a frustrating, discordant lag.
It was an itch he couldn’t scratch, a phantom recognition that actively irritated his temper.
“You expect me to believe you’re a victim?” Gu Canglong leaned down, his face inches from Shen Qing’s, his voice dropping an octave.
“You signed the registry.
The vows are broadcast to forty sectors.
For the next six months, the civil-military decree states you reside under my roof.
If this is a game to leverage my name for your lower-district business deals, I will make sure you don’t survive the first month.”
“Then let’s make it simple,” Shen Qing said, refusing to lean back or acknowledge the heat radiating off the man.
He tapped his fingers rhythmically against his crossed arms.
“Six months.
One hundred and eighty days.
We maintain the public illusion so your family’s stock metrics don’t collapse, and my family stays away from the people I protect.
Behind closed doors, you stay on your side of the penthouse, and I stay on mine.
We don’t need to be friends.
We just need to hit the 180-day mark without a public divorce.”
Gu Canglong’s hand twitched, his fingers locking onto the edge of the table right next to Shen Qing’s hip, the metal groaning slightly under the sudden pressure of his grip.
He was thoroughly irritated.
The sheer audacity of a baseline Beta setting terms to an Enigma inside a military bunker was absurd.
Yet, beneath the irritation, a dark, involuntary fascination was taking root.
His senses, usually overwhelmed by the chaotic demands of pheromones and hierarchy, found a strange, unnerving clarity in Shen Qing’s absolute lack of a scent.
It was like stepping out of a blinding sandstorm into a room of cold concrete.
“Six months?” Gu Canglong whispered, his chest pressing closer, his eyes tracking the steady, unhurried pulse in Shen Qing’s neck.
“You think you can just negotiate your way out of my residence, Ah-Qing?
You wore the scarlet robes.
You took the vows.
You belong to the Vanguard registry now.”
“Only on paper,” Shen Qing replied, his eyes narrowing into a sharp challenge as he looked straight into the Enigma’s turbulent pupils.
“And paper burns very easily, Long-ge.”
The heavy silence stretched between them, thick with an unresolved, static tension that made the fluorescent lights hum a bit louder.
Hiss.
The heavy security door behind them slid open, breaking the standoff.
An elite guard stepped inside, holding a digital tablet and a thick, leather-bound folder containing the official military cohabitation forms.
He stopped few feet away, his eyes strictly fixed on the floor to avoid looking at the Commander’s tense posture.
“Commander,” the guard reported, his voice crisp.
“The transport ship is prepped on the private tarmac.
The media drones have been pushed back past the two-mile security perimeter.
However, the Shen corporate representatives are refusing to clear the logistics gate.
They are requesting a signed copy of the immediate asset protection clause before the transport departs.”
Shen Qing let out a short, quiet breath through his nose, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the tablet.
He knew exactly what his father was doing.
Shen Hong wasn’t checking on his son’s safety; the patriarch was using the temporary wedding chaos to legally lock in the Gu family’s sub-contractor insurance before the market closed at noon.
It was a classic, low-risk corporate ambush.
Gu Canglong didn’t break eye contact with Shen Qing for some agonizing seconds.
Slowly, he stood up to his full height, pulling his hand back from the table.
He snatched the digital tablet from the guard’s hand, his signature an aggressive, jagged slash across the encrypted glass screen.
“Tell the Shens their clause is signed,” Gu Canglong said, his voice turning freezing and detached as he tossed the tablet back to the guard’s chest.
He turned his back to the bride, picking up his white gloves from the table.
“Escort him to the penthouse.”
Shen Qing didn’t answer.
He casually picked up his civilian jacket from the back of the chair, shook out the dust, and draped it over his arm.
He walked past the Commander without a single glance backward, his boots clicking a steady, even rhythm against the concrete floor as he followed the guard out toward the hangar.
The corridor outside was lined with silent, heavily armed soldiers, their armor gleaming under the industrial yellow lights.
Shen Qing stepped out onto the tarmac, the high-altitude wind whipping his hair across his face as the massive shadow of the military transport ship loomed ahead.
The city below was nothing but a sprawling, mechanical web of glass and steel, and he was flying straight into the center of it.
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