Ji Chenxi lay on the bed, eyes unblinking as he stared at Chi Zhuo.
“What did you just call me?” he asked softly.
“Baby,” Chi Zhuo replied, his tone calm and steady.
Ji Chenxi pursed his lips and gave his verdict. “I’ve heard that’s a word scumbags love to use.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“From omegas, obviously.”
“Then do you think I am one?” Chi Zhuo asked in a low voice. He leaned in and lightly pecked the corner of Ji Chenxi’s lips again. Feeling the higher heat coming off his body, Chi Zhuo loosened his hold. His cool hand settled on Ji Chenxi’s forehead to physically cool him down, keeping a distance that was intimate, but not so far as to completely cross the line.
Caught in that heat, Ji Chenxi’s breathing grew heavier. Faced with Chi Zhuo’s question, he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he threw it back at him. “What about you? Do you think you are?”
Chi Zhuo gently rubbed Ji Chenxi’s head, the movement carrying a hint of tenderness. “I think… I sort of am.”
Chi Zhuo knew he was serious about Ji Chenxi. But even with that seriousness, he wasn’t willing to give up his pride as an alpha. He didn’t want to be marked, didn’t want to be the one beneath someone else, and in his mind, even when it came to that kind of thing, it should be Ji Chenxi who backed down.
Alphas really were arrogant and nasty creatures at heart. No alpha wanted to wrong himself just to please someone else. That was why most AA relationships never worked out. Pheromone rejection was one reason, social pressure was another, but what truly stopped them was the alpha’s own forceful nature. No alpha was willing to yield for another alpha.
After hearing Chi Zhuo’s words, Ji Chenxi felt a bit troubled. “If only I also thought you were, that’d be great.”
“You…” Chi Zhuo hesitated. “Do you not think so?”
Ji Chenxi let out a quiet “mm,” clearly not wanting to admit it again. “I must’ve had my brain burned out by my rut cycle. A word like ‘baby’—all tease and no real weight—and I still end up thinking you sound sincere.”
What was sincerity? Something priceless, something you might never meet once in a lifetime.
Chi Zhuo froze, suddenly at a loss for words.
Wrapped in the soft bedding, Ji Chenxi smiled brightly. His hand slipped out from under the covers and picked up an inhibitor he’d tossed onto the bed earlier.
The deep blue liquid shimmered faintly as it sloshed inside the vial, glowing beautifully in his hand.
Ji Chenxi casually played with the inhibitor for a moment, then neatly opened it and injected all of it into his skin. The movement was clean and decisive, like the person who’d refused the inhibitor before wasn’t him at all.
“You—what are you doing?”
“I’ve dragged my rut cycle on long enough already.”
Ji Chenxi rubbed his brow. Once his reason fully returned, he couldn’t help finding his own actions during his heat kind of funny. If at the start it had been about using his raging pheromones to keep Wu Xiang in check, then what about the more than two hours after that? Personal motives?
He found every choice he’d made during his susceptible period strangely amusing.
And because of that amusement, he laughed again.
After a long while, the restlessness and unease of the susceptible period finally faded away completely.
“Brother Chi Zhuo,” Ji Chenxi said lazily, “you softened up that easily?”
“Are you feeling better?” Chi Zhuo dodged the question.
“Much better. But—” Ji Chenxi lifted his gaze. “How did you dare stay next to an alpha in rut? Weren’t you afraid I’d…?”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning was obvious.
“Did you bring me here on purpose?” Chi Zhuo hadn’t had the energy to think about this while Ji Chenxi was still deep in his rut, but now that things had cooled down, he didn’t even need to think hard to see through it.
“You know it. If I were clear-headed, I’d never do something like this. Especially after all the harsh words I threw around earlier.”
Chi Zhuo’s face tightened. That answer wasn’t enough for him.
“But during my rut,” Ji Chenxi added, “you were the only one I replied to.”
Ji Chenxi’s brows curved gently. From that slightly playful tone, Chi Zhuo knew the Ji Chenxi he was familiar with had come back.
“So you’re saying,” Chi Zhuo asked softly, looking down into those eyes that were filled entirely with him, “that was your most honest thought?”
Ji Chenxi tilted his head. As he moved, a few strands of silver hair brushed past his cheek, making his eyes look even more intoxicating. “I didn’t say anything like that.”
Chi Zhuo reached out and tucked those unruly strands behind his ear. “You clearly said everything.”
Ji Chenxi just smiled and said nothing.
The two of them fell into silence for a while. Then Ji Chenxi politely asked, “So—are you planning to climb out the window and go home to sleep, or stay the night?”
“And what’s the rate for staying over in His Highness’s bedroom?”
Ji Chenxi blinked, clearly not expecting Chi Zhuo to joke with him so seriously. He couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing again, his whole body starting to shake. “You’re asking me about the price? Hahaha—this one’s sky-high. I don’t think Brother Chi Zhuo can afford it.”
Rich and powerful as Chi Zhuo was, he wasn’t scared off by Ji Chenxi’s so-called sky-high price. Instead, he asked, “Then say it. If you don’t tell me, how do you know I can’t afford it?”
Ji Chenxi lifted his hand and hooked it around Chi Zhuo’s neck. There were still bloody marks on his hand from earlier, but he didn’t care at all. He only dragged out his words, speaking in that familiar, spoiled tone—light, cheerful, and clearly pleased. “You really can’t afford it. Some things just can’t be bought with money. But even if Brother Chi Zhuo can’t pay, I’ll still reluctantly let you stay the night. Can’t help it—I’m just a soft-hearted good person.”
Chi Zhuo took Ji Chenxi’s hand down from his neck, spread his palm open, and gently pressed a kiss onto the place where skin and blood met, the wound looking almost scary at first glance.
“Then maybe this soft-hearted good person should treat his injury first.”
“Oh?” Ji Chenxi raised his brows. “Feeling sorry for me?”
“No,” Chi Zhuo said calmly. “The smell of blood is just too strong.”
His heart had already settled completely. Outside things wouldn’t shake him so easily anymore.
Ji Chenxi let his eyes droop and put on a pitiful look, fully showing off that dramatic, attention-seeking alpha-in-rut behavior.
Chi Zhuo didn’t budge. “No one feels sorry for someone who doesn’t even care about himself.”
Ji Chenxi lowered his gaze and looked at his own hand. “I don’t like pain. I ended up like this because you didn’t come, and I was anxious and scared. Do you get it? Only physical pain can make me forget the pain in my head for a while.”
“That’s not what you said a few days ago.”
“Yeah, that’s not what I said back then. We’re both adults—don’t get too carried away. That was for you to hear, and for me too.”
Chi Zhuo’s fingers, still lightly holding Ji Chenxi’s hand, stiffened for a moment. “Use the healing device first.”
Ji Chenxi didn’t care much about the small wound. After injecting the inhibitor, his sense of pain had gone dull. Taking advantage of that leftover sensitivity and honesty from after his rut, he said to Chi Zhuo, “You were a little angry back then. I know. I also know why you didn’t contact me for so long—you were trying to cool this relationship down.”
Chi Zhuo recalled that video call. What should’ve been clear anger now seemed mixed with something else.
Being so easily affected by someone else’s emotions was terrifying.
The two of them were both moving carefully, trying to trap the other, yet at the same time, they were also the ones being caught. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling at all.
“In a hunt between two hunters, one of them always ends up as food on the table.” Even without a reply, Ji Chenxi kept talking to himself. He pulled Chi Zhuo’s hand closer and asked, “Brother Chi Zhuo, who do you think will win this hunt?”
“Your spirit form shouldn’t be a snow leopard. A fox suits you better.”
Ji Chenxi let out a soft snort. “Praising my looks, huh? Then thanks. Guess that means you’ve got good taste.”
“Didn’t you say before you weren’t playing any feelings games?”
“That was before. This is now. What, I’m not allowed to suddenly get interested?” Ji Chenxi half-narrowed his eyes. “Though honestly, I’m not even sure if this counts as a feelings game.”
“Were you scared before?”
“Hm?”
“Scared of people finding out you like alphas.”
Ji Chenxi finally sat up in bed. His summer clothes were thin to begin with, now worn loose and messy, and he couldn’t be bothered to fix them. He just stared at Chi Zhuo without blinking. “Do you think you like alphas?”
Chi Zhuo shook his head. If he really liked alphas, he wouldn’t have mistaken Ji Chenxi for an omega in the first place—and paid for it badly.
“Then if you don’t think you like alphas,” Ji Chenxi asked, “why do you think I must like alphas?”
“Your desire to conquer.”
Ji Chenxi smiled, but not quite. “That logic doesn’t really hold up. All alphas have that—including you.”
Chi Zhuo didn’t insist on his answer. He simply hummed in agreement, as if accepting Ji Chenxi’s words. “Treat the wound first.”
Ji Chenxi didn’t continue digging into the topic. He really did go and heal himself.
The night was deep. Moonlight slanted in through the window, leaving behind a hazy glow. It was as if even the moon favored the silver-haired young man, laying a thin veil of light over Ji Chenxi’s face as he lowered his eyes to tend to his injury.
Chi Zhuo’s gaze seemed to drift with the night. Watching Ji Chenxi, he suddenly said, “The night looks beautiful tonight.”
“Huh? Does it?” After finishing the treatment, Ji Chenxi lay back down on the bed, taking up only half of it.
Once he buried himself fully under the covers, he patted the empty space beside him and asked, “Coming?”
Before Chi Zhuo could answer, he casually offered other options. “If you don’t want to, you can sleep on the floor or the couch. Or if you’re not scared of being found out, you can go find a guest room now.”
Chi Zhuo didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “And what about you, Your Highness? Where do you want me to sleep?”
Bathed in moonlight and starlight, the silver-haired alpha dropped all his restraint and pride, as if Chi Zhuo’s question was ridiculous. “Where else would you sleep? Of course you’re sleeping with me.”
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
