The difference in lighting between the hallway and the bedroom outlined Qi Fan’s features, making him look handsome and deep.
Lin Weiyu was completely baffled: 【…Does he have a dog’s nose? You and Chu Baiqian were only alone for half an hour. How can he already smell pheromones?】
Besides, Chu Baiqian wasn’t some crude or rude Alpha. Keeping one’s pheromones in check in public is basic etiquette, right?
As an Alpha himself, Sheng Zhiyu knew better than anyone whether he was stained with someone else’s scent.
[No, I don’t smell anything.]
【That just proves he’s more of a dog than you are!】
[…] A very strange way to look at it.
【By the way, what does he mean by… “the Alpha who marked you”?】
Just as Lin Weiyu finished speaking, the words “BLOCKED” flashed in large letters across the terminal screen.
While Lin Weiyu was screaming in frustration, Qi Fan had already stopped in front of Sheng Zhiyu.
The bedroom door slowly closed, leaving only the two of them in the space again.
The man’s finger lightly hooked the pure black collar. It swayed gently with his forward steps, carrying a bold and unbridled desire for control.
Sheng Zhiyu narrowed his long eyes, quietly allowing himself to be wrapped in the surrounding scent of dark agarwood.
“Qi Fan.”
When Sheng Zhiyu called his name, his voice held a hint of a smile and a coldness that pushed people away, yet his eyes held an indescribable playfulness.
“I don’t think you bit me last night out of the goodness of your heart. But why do you think I’ll just sit here and let you bite me again?”
In response, the man let out a low chuckle from deep in his throat.
Qi Fan acted curious, asking softly: “In which sentence did I say… I wanted to bite you again?”
His warm breath slowly settled on Sheng Zhiyu’s skin. He smiled calmly: “Or is it that your teeth are itching? Little Young Master.”
They were both Alphas. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
Sheng Zhiyu’s clear eyes were like pure glass, reflecting Qi Fan’s face without any extra emotion.
After a moment, Sheng Zhiyu didn’t play along with the word game. Instead, he flashed a smile: “You have a date with an Omega tomorrow, yet you’re here looking for trouble with me tonight. You sure are busy.”
The dumplings An Yu cooked for him carried a sense of apology and compensation. Even if An Yu himself didn’t realize it, it was definitely setting the stage for tomorrow.
Sheng Zhiyu already knew he wouldn’t be receiving a letter from An Yu tomorrow.
“Mhm.” Qi Fan’s thumb pressed against his chin, rubbing it gently as he slowly drew closer. “That’s my mission. You know that very well.”
Sheng Zhiyu didn’t move. He casually felt the other man’s approach, wearing a half-smile: “Qi Fan, have you stayed in the Scumbag Gong department so long that you really think you’re the center of the world?”
Qi Fan looked at him intensely, his gaze nearly reaching the deepest part of Sheng Zhiyu’s eyes.
After a long while, he spoke in a low tone, his smile still present: “Mhm, I do.”
After all, in those worlds, everyone loved him.
He answered casually, sounding like a provocation, yet Sheng Zhiyu caught a fleeting, strange look in his eyes.
It was as if, deep within that smile, there was a sense of loneliness. It seemed a bit contradictory.
But before he could look deeper, the man drew closer again: “You still haven’t answered my question. Or did you think I didn’t notice you staring at my hand like that on the way to the haunted house?”
Sheng Zhiyu slowly began to smile. His pure black pupils reflected the man’s outline, and he didn’t back down: “Maybe I was.”
It was such a casual answer, the kind that makes one’s heart itch.
After a moment of silence, Qi Fan laughed first, his mood no longer ethereal and uncertain: “So, when you were alone with Chu Baiqian, did you want to bite him?”
Qi Fan’s eyes were in the shadows. His posture and expression fit the setting of this world so perfectly that it was hard to detect the slight hint of testing hidden in his question.
Sheng Zhiyu let out a soft sigh.
Qi Fan was right. As a “bed partner,” he really was a bit of a handful.
Raising his lashes again, he quietly looked at the face in front of him—one slightly refined by time and asked lazily: “Do you want to know?”
“Mhm,” Qi Fan didn’t back down. “I do.”
Sheng Zhiyu reached out and hooked his wrist, biting down on the spot where the man’s pheromones were strongest.
The scent of dark agarwood poured over his teeth, bringing a sharp pain that left one wanting more.
There was no extra soft flesh on Qi Fan’s wrist, only blood and bone beneath the skin. But Sheng Zhiyu bit down deep and hard, making no effort to hide his predatory intent.
Qi Fan closed his eyes. The intense pain brought him a somewhat morbid sense of satisfaction.
It was obvious that Sheng Zhiyu was only using him to soothe his rut. After meeting An Yu, a “spare tire” had to stay away from other Omegas, leaving the rut with no outlet.
It was quite hateful. He wouldn’t answer such a tempting question, choosing to gloss over it with a bite instead…
A mix of emotions bubbled up. Qi Fan kept his eyes down and used his stationary hand to gently pinch Sheng Zhiyu’s earlobe.
He only wanted to vent a bit of his feelings, but he unexpectedly felt Sheng Zhiyu’s breathing hitch.
Oh, he remembered now. Even when drunk, Sheng Zhiyu didn’t like others touching his earlobes.
Qi Fan had caught a tiny weakness. Most of his previous emotions vanished as he laughed softly: “No rush. Control your breathing.”
Sheng Zhiyu’s lowered eyes darkened, and he silently increased the strength of his bite.
Watching the earlobe gradually turn red and hot, Qi Fan ignored the warning and whispered playfully: “That’s it. Good boy.”
As soon as he said that, Sheng Zhiyu let go of his hand and backed away.
A bright crimson blood stained his beautiful lips, looking vividly attractive.
“…It’s just a role in this world. Do you really think I’m eighteen?” Sheng Zhiyu’s voice was hoarse, his tongue tasting of iron.
“What’s wrong?” Qi Fan raised an eyebrow, his eyes taking on a slight chill, yet he remained composed. “You don’t like it?”
Sheng Zhiyu looked down, his brow slightly furrowed in dissatisfaction: “I hate it.”
The man took a handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped the mangled skin on his hand. “So there are things you hate.”
The scent of dark agarwood mingled with iris, becoming incredibly thick.
Qi Fan folded the blood-stained handkerchief and placed it on the table. He then undid the top button of his collar: “Now, it’s my turn. Where do you want me to bite?”
He always insisted on a fair exchange.
Sheng Zhiyu turned his face slightly, his tongue quietly licking a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth, making his face look as white as cold jade.
“You can’t bite my hands or neck…” He lifted his chin, returning to his distant, cold posture. “Nowhere visible.”
Nowhere visible? Then others wouldn’t be able to see this mark.
However, Qi Fan didn’t complain. He just leaned his hand against the edge of Sheng Zhiyu’s bed: “Then the same spot as last night.”
Since he couldn’t leave a new one, he would leave a deeper one.
Sheng Zhiyu said okay and took off his jacket. As he went to pull at his collar, he remembered there was a very unique button there. After a split second of hesitation, he pretended not to know and simply pulled the collar down.
Qi Fan stood by the bed, looking down at the person in front of him.
That clean, beautiful collarbone wasn’t fully exposed; it was half-hidden by the collar hooked by Sheng Zhiyu’s fingers.
When Qi Fan’s fingertips touched the skin and slowly peeled off the bandage, Sheng Zhiyu still couldn’t control a slight shiver.
There was no helping it; an Alpha’s reaction to “being bitten” was far more sensitive than an Omega’s.
After the itchy sensation of a dull knife cutting flesh faded, Sheng Zhiyu heard his deep voice: “Bite?”
“Bite.”
A crisp command.
The scabbed wound broke open again. It wasn’t as stinging as last night. Sheng Zhiyu thought he could endure it after having experienced it once, but when the new pheromones were injected, he still couldn’t help but feel a wave of resistance.
The instinctual rejection of his own kind returned.
He instinctively pushed Qi Fan’s shoulder, but as soon as he touched the man’s clothes, his hands were pinned down by a prepared Qi Fan.
“…I knew you would try to back out.” Qi Fan seemed to have been observing him. When their eyes met, his long lashes curved slightly.
…He was smiling.
Sheng Zhiyu’s lips moved slightly, only to find that the collar Qi Fan had used to hide his wound this morning was now wrapped around his own wrists.
With a pull of the ribbon by Qi Fan’s long fingers, Sheng Zhiyu’s hands were bound together and easily pinned above his head.
The pheromones were too heavy. Resting on his wrists, they felt like shackles and chains.
Qi Fan lightly traced a finger along his cheek. The flesh there was incredibly soft.
He had imagined this scene as early as this morning when he decided to wear the collar.
He felt his own breathing grow heavy, yet he still smiled and comforted: “It’s just an aid. Don’t be afraid, don’t struggle.”
The next second, he heard Sheng Zhiyu’s low, calm laughter.
“Is that so? Why do I feel like you’d prefer it if I were afraid and struggling?”
Qi Fan’s eyes darkened. Without answering the question, he bit down again.
After a long time, the man backed away.
This time Qi Fan didn’t do anything extra. When he pulled back, Sheng Zhiyu’s gaze was somewhat vacant, and he was breathing slightly hard. He was still spacing out, but his voice was cold, with no hint of being lost in passion: “It’s late. I need to rest. Get out.”
Qi Fan was used to being dismissed. He straightened his clothes, slowly unfastened the collar, and tucked it into his pocket while Sheng Zhiyu wasn’t looking.
He gave a faint smile before leaving.
“Thanks for the treat. Goodnight.”
Sheng Zhiyu sat on the bed for a while. When he got up to go to the bathroom, he realized he was unconsciously clutching something.
Looking down, he first saw the red marks on his wrists from being bound, then realized the “couple” jacket had been crumpled by his grip and was no longer wearable.
He looked at it expressionlessly, balled it up, and threw it into a corner.
Filming continued as usual.
The only thing different from yesterday was that in the mailbox at Sheng Zhiyu’s door, there was only one letter, and it was from Chu Baiqian.
However, Sheng Zhiyu was already certain that this person hadn’t given him the letter out of romantic interest, but rather because he saw him as an acquaintance or a younger brother.
Thinking of this, he frowned slightly. He remembered that the Quick Transmigration Bureau usually avoided similarities between the mission and the host’s background when choosing identities… was it an accident?
Today, Sheng Zhiyu woke up earlier than yesterday. When he went downstairs, not everyone was at the table yet, but An Yu was already there.
Sheng Zhiyu walked directly to his side and pulled out a chair.
An Yu was startled at first, then smiled: “Xiao Yu, good morning.”
“Mhm.” Sheng Zhiyu gave a faint response and then slowly slumped onto the table. His eyes were a bit downcast, and his beautiful face was full of gloom.
Looking at his expression, An Yu felt a tickle in his heart and instinctively softened his voice to coax him: “What’s wrong?”
Sheng Zhiyu’s cheek was pressed against his arm, making the soft flesh puff out slightly. His gaze drifted for a bit, showing the youthful and awkward emotions of an eighteen-year-old boy.
His voice was extremely low, as if he didn’t want An Yu to hear, yet he couldn’t hide his feelings: “…Where is your letter?”
A subtle sting rose from An Yu’s chest, followed by a continuous wave of guilt.
An Yu’s voice immediately became stumbled: “I… I’m sorry.”
When walking with Qi Fan last night, An Yu only thought that since Mr. Qi had also sent him a letter, it would be polite to return one.
Sheng Zhiyu, of course, knew that all of An Yu’s choices were out of courtesy. The “all-beloved” protagonist didn’t need to deliberately bait any supporting character; they were all rushing to please him.
An Yu didn’t expect Sheng Zhiyu to be so upset about not receiving a letter. It felt like tasting a sour lemon, and his voice turned a bit hoarse: “I’m sorry. I should have told you first, so you could have given your letter to someone else.”
The boy in front of him just messed up his hair in frustration and whispered: “I didn’t want to give it to anyone else either.”
An Yu paused.
Then he saw the boy’s serious gaze through his messy hair, looking deeply at him: “An Yu, do you think I was just playing with you yesterday?”
“I was…” pursuing you.
Unfortunately, before those last two words could be said, a tall figure stepped into view.
Qi Fan came from the kitchen, carrying two breakfasts. He first swept a glance over Sheng Zhiyu, then feigned a look of surprise.
“Xiao Yu woke up so early today?”
The interrupted Sheng Zhiyu stared at him coldly.
Qi Fan acted generously, placing the two breakfasts in front of him and An Yu.
“Eat breakfast first. I’ll make another portion.”
Sheng Zhiyu’s expression softened slightly as he looked at the breakfast. He knew very well that Qi Fan was an expert at showing the maturity and gentleness of an older man.
Their eyes met and then parted. Sheng Zhiyu was no longer the “wronged baby” he was in front of An Yu; he leaned back lazily in his chair.
He didn’t respond to Qi Fan’s “good morning” and just gave a lazy yawn: “Thanks.”
Qi Fan calmly sat in the empty seat on the other side of An Yu.
His long fingers touched the glass, and he asked considerately: “What were you talking about? You both seem unhappy.”
Even others could see it. An Yu became even more careful and looked back to test the waters: “Xiao Yu, were you unhappy yesterday?”
“No, I was very happy.” Sheng Zhiyu narrowed his eyes and looked at him seriously. “I was just a bit disappointed just now. You don’t have to worry about it.”
As soon as he said that, he heard the man’s knowing voice: “Is Xiao Yu throwing a tantrum because An Yu gave his letter to me?”
Sheng Zhiyu slowly raised his eyelids, looking at the deliberate atmosphere.
Qi Fan showed no emotion, saying calmly: “If Xiao Yu cares that much… An Yu, do you want to reconsider?”
“No need.” Sheng Zhiyu gave a casual smile and turned back to look at An Yu: “It’s a show. Everyone should get to know each other more. I didn’t mean to restrict Brother An Yu.”
An Yu’s face turned red, and he hesitated.
The atmosphere only softened slightly when the last guest arrived. The show’s process was roughly the same as yesterday. Only two groups were decided today, and Qi Fan and An Yu were one of them.
“However, today’s date format is different from yesterday. It’s a double date.”
“The remaining guests will form their own teams and invite another pair to travel together. We leave in thirty minutes.”
As soon as the announcement was made, Qi Fan’s gaze fell on Sheng Zhiyu’s hand.
He only had one letter—blue, same as yesterday, from Chu Baiqian.
After the show’s arrangements were set, Sheng Zhiyu turned back and met Chu Baiqian’s smiling eyes.
“What a coincidence. Are we in a group?”
If not for the show’s mandatory requirement, Sheng Zhiyu would have probably found some excuse to be alone, like Qi Fan yesterday.
“Sure,” Sheng Zhiyu nodded.
Because groups were formed, the seating at the table was also rearranged.
Sheng Zhiyu and Chu Baiqian sat at the far end of the long table, diagonally across from An Yu and Qi Fan. Looking over, he could only see the two of them whispering together in a harmonious atmosphere.
Qi Fan quietly retracted his gaze and looked at An Yu: “Wasn’t Xiao Yu a bit gloomy just now? Do you want to ask him if he’d like to join our group?”
An Yu’s eyes, which had been tentative, immediately lit up: “Is it okay?”
At the table just now, he couldn’t tell if Sheng Zhiyu and Qi Fan were truly being polite or if they were both angry. Although he felt relieved, he didn’t dare to take the initiative out of politeness.
Now that Qi Fan had said so, he walked toward Sheng Zhiyu: “Xiao Yu, sorry to interrupt.”
Sheng Zhiyu turned back at the sound of An Yu’s voice. Before An Yu could speak, he flashed a beautiful smile: “Are you here to invite me?”
Like a kitten that would lean in if you reached out, An Yu’s previous nervousness vanished instantly.
With favorability levels reaching the mark, Lin Weiyu, sitting at the terminal, once again marveled… Xiao Yu really has his ways.
The gazes from around them fell here and there, seemingly curious about the grouping. After all, since the start of filming, Sheng Zhiyu had been very direct with An Yu. For a guest with such a clear goal, others would usually step aside or help. But he had a rival, and that rival was Film Emperor Qi.
Though it wasn’t obvious on the surface, An Yu had already become the most popular Omega.
Sheng Zhiyu’s clear, round eyes stared fixedly at An Yu like a beautiful kitten. Just as An Yu softened and prepared to answer, a low, calm male voice suddenly rang out from behind.
“You haven’t reached an agreement after all this time. Have you been rejected?” Qi Fan naturally stood by An Yu’s side. Although there was no physical contact, his tall figure quickly pulled the other closer to his side.
From an outsider’s perspective, he looked like he was protecting An Yu.
Qi Fan’s eyes looked down at Sheng Zhiyu with a gentle, scholarly smile: “I’m the one who received the letter. If Xiao Yu is angry, he can take it out on me. There’s no need to make things difficult for An Yu.”
The words, the actions—to anyone watching, it looked like a fiery scene of two people fighting over An Yu.
No one knew… that these two Alphas fighting over An Yu had lain in the same bed last night, using their sharp teeth to repeatedly mark each other.