Death was right at his throat, yet Chi Zhuo didn’t even blink.
In the thick, almost choking smell of blood, his dark eyes stayed locked straight on Ji Chenxi.
Ji Chenxi’s face was flushed in a way that didn’t look normal. His hand brushed against Chi Zhuo’s neck, almost in a teasing, intimate way—his skin burning hot, the dagger in his grip cold and flashing with a sharp gleam. The mix of heat and steel gave off a strange feeling, something both seductive and unsettling.
Ji Chenxi narrowed his eyes slightly as he moved the dagger. It didn’t look like he was trying to scare him—more like he was figuring out where to start. While Chi Zhuo watched him, the dagger finally seemed to find an angle that pleased him. The sharp tip pressed lightly against the skin, ready to make the first cut.
As if realizing something, Chi Zhuo suddenly grabbed Ji Chenxi’s hand, taking the threatening dagger away, and let out a quiet sigh.
“Your Highness, don’t mess around.”
If he still couldn’t tell what Ji Chenxi was trying to do, then all his careful observation would’ve been pointless. The man clearly wanted to carve something into his neck—maybe words, maybe a pattern. His mind flashed back to before, when Ji Chenxi had carved a rose into his skin. But right now… how much of Ji Chenxi’s reason was even left?
“You’re rejecting me?” Ji Chenxi’s tone dropped.
Hearing the displeasure in his voice, Chi Zhuo held down the hand that tried to snatch the dagger back and said, without a hint of fear, “Yeah. If anyone should be upset between us, it should be me. After all, Your Highness still reeks of omega scent. So what—you meant that an alpha being drawn to an omega is just natural?”
Ji Chenxi blinked lightly. “Huh?”
His slow, muddled mind clearly hadn’t expected to be thrown off like that, so he paused for a moment when faced with Chi Zhuo’s question.
His state right now was… strange. He was drifting in a sea of desire—one moment like a drowning man about to sink, the next like a god ruling the ocean.
Reason, desire, calm, frenzy—they twisted together, fighting for control of his body, until what remained was a Ji Chenxi who looked calm on the surface but had long since lost any real control.
“You’re trying to distract me?”
Ji Chenxi asked. Meanwhile, Chi Zhuo had already lifted his hand. His wrist was covered in cuts from the dagger—most of them shallow, no longer bleeding, just layer upon layer of wounds.
The sight made Chi Zhuo’s chest tighten.
Maybe… he shouldn’t have stayed this calm. Calmly setting everything up, then walking in with that same detached composure—like pretending he wasn’t already sinking into this mess.
He lifted that sharply defined wrist and brought it to his lips, pressing down a trail of soft, lingering kisses—gentle to an almost excessive degree.
“Hurting yourself isn’t a good habit.”
Chi Zhuo glanced up at Ji Chenxi, his voice low and rough, like he was holding something back.
Ji Chenxi hadn’t forgotten what this man had just said. “Of course it’s natural for an alpha to be drawn to an omega—but I held back. I even stayed here waiting for you for quite a while.”
“And how long did Your Highness wait for me?”
Without even thinking, Ji Chenxi replied, “Sixteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds.”
“You remember it that clearly.”
Ji Chenxi let out a cold laugh. Of course he remembered—every extra second he waited, he came up with another way to kill Chi Zhuo.
Before Ji Chenxi could say anything more, Chi Zhuo gave his wrist one last slow lick and kiss, then pulled him into an embrace. Leaning close, he pressed a light kiss to his earlobe and murmured, “I swear on my family’s name… I won’t make you wait again.”
His voice was low, and at such close distance, it made Ji Chenxi feel like even his eardrum trembled slightly.
From being expressionless at first, Ji Chenxi slowly curved his lips into a faint smile. “A promise? An alpha’s promises aren’t exactly reliable.”
“I don’t like making promises lightly. But once I do, I’ll do everything I can to keep it.”
Ji Chenxi’s brows relaxed a little, the sharp tension in his face easing, though doubt still lingered in his voice. “You’ve already made me wait twice.”
Chi Zhuo let out a quiet “Mm.” The man who was usually so cold now looked at him with unexpected softness, like he was coaxing a sulking little cat. His fingers gently pinched the soft flesh at the back of Ji Chenxi’s neck. “There won’t be a next time.”
They were about the same height, yet Ji Chenxi still looked down at him with a faint air of superiority, his gaze almost condescending. “Sounds like a sweet lie.”
Chi Zhuo was just considering whether he could forcefully take Ji Chenxi away when the man in front of him suddenly reached out, lightly brushing his cheek in a teasing way. “But… I can believe you this once.”
“Then, thank you for Your Highness’s favor.”
Ji Chenxi’s eyes lifted slightly at the corners. “You’re welcome.”
Chi Zhuo let out a soft laugh. “Let’s go, Your Highness. I’ll take you home. Someone will handle everything and give you a satisfying answer.”
Chi Zhuo managed, more or less smoothly, to coax Ji Chenxi back with him. And this “home” obviously didn’t mean Ji Chenxi’s estate—it was Chi Zhuo’s place, the one he’d lived in for years.
The room was all black, white, and gray, cold and empty with no hint of warmth. Above the bed hung a massive painting, looking like someone had just spilled black and white paint and let it mix into chaos. A piece like that could easily look ugly if you weren’t careful—but Ji Chenxi stared at it for a long time. Next to it hung another, smaller and more normal-looking painting. It felt familiar somehow, but he just couldn’t remember where he’d seen it before.
He felt awful, but still obediently curled up on the small sofa in the bedroom. Just looking at him like this, anyone might even call him well-behaved.
While Ji Chenxi sat there quietly, Chi Zhuo was busy using several small devices to check his condition. After running multiple tests, all the results showed the same thing—Ji Chenxi was in his sensitive period. But this time, he was a little ‘too’ well-behaved. And the constant high fever that wouldn’t go down made it all feel even more off.
Switching to another device, Chi Zhuo spoke gently, “Your Highness, I’ll need a bit of your blood for testing.”
Ji Chenxi lowered his eyes to look at the sharp silver needle, then pulled his hand back and tucked it against his stomach. “It hurts.”
Chi Zhuo: “…I’ll be gentle.”
Ji Chenxi still didn’t move.
“I’ll be very gentle. Like a feather barely touching you.”
Only then did Ji Chenxi reluctantly stretch out a single finger. Chi Zhuo quickly disinfected it, drew the blood, and placed the sample into the device for analysis.
Ji Chenxi stared at his fingertip, where a tiny bead of blood was still forming, not moving at all. A small cotton ball was already pressed lightly against it, and a compact healing device began treating both his finger and wrist.
“So now Your Highness knows it hurts,” Chi Zhuo said, voice low. “Why didn’t it hurt when you were hurting yourself earlier?”
“It did hurt… just not as much as wanting to mark someone and not being able to.”
Chi Zhuo paused, something clicking in his mind. The heavy smell of blood hadn’t faded even after they left Sun-Moon Lake… was it really just from the cuts on his wrist?
He reached out, intending to remove the suppressor around Ji Chenxi’s neck. This time, Ji Chenxi immediately leaned back, his expression turning cold.
“What are you trying to do?”
“Your Highness,” Chi Zhuo said softly, “you can release your pheromones now.”
“Ha… trying to trick me.”
This time, Chi Zhuo didn’t hold back—he moved straight in. Ji Chenxi, who had seemed gentle and harmless just a moment ago, immediately raised his hand to block.
In just a few breaths, they had already exchanged dozens of moves. One was trying to rip off the suppressor, the other forcing himself to protect it. Even their spiritual strength came into play as they clashed.
In the end, Chi Zhuo—pinned down against the bed—still managed to shatter the suppressor into pieces.
The moment it broke, a bitter rose scent flooded the entire room.
Chi Zhuo’s raised hand trembled slightly. There were dark red bloodstains on the broken suppressor… Ji Chenxi’s gland was clearly injured. Chi Zhuo reached out, wanting to touch it. He had obviously noticed something—his fingers trembled, hesitating, almost afraid to make contact… yet he still reached forward.
Just before he could touch Ji Chenxi, his hand was stopped.
Ji Chenxi narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning dangerous. “You’ve successfully made me angry.”
Chi Zhuo gave a soft acknowledgment, but his other free hand still tried to move toward Ji Chenxi’s gland. “Wait a second.”
His hand paused briefly… then pushed forward again, firm and unyielding.
“Chi Zhuo, I told you to stop.”
“Your Highness… let me see.”
Ji Chenxi closed his eyes for a moment. “What are you trying to confirm? That under the pull of highly compatible pheromones, I can’t stay in control at all—so I had to hurt my own gland? That even in a sensitive period, when my body is screaming to mark someone… I still don’t want to mark you? That when I tried to hurt you earlier, it was just to make you feel the same pain I felt?”
His voice grew colder, sharper.
“I’m selfish. I’m arrogant. Do I really have to spell everything out so clearly?”
Those words were harsh—anyone would get angry hearing them, especially when they were supposed to be in a relationship.
But what rose in Chi Zhuo’s chest wasn’t anger.
It was something closer to… heartache.
“You’re not wrong. An alpha being unable to resist an omega’s pheromones is normal. And your compatibility is high… I can feel it.”
Ji Chenxi didn’t respond. He just stared at Chi Zhuo, unblinking. And when Chi Zhuo still refused to give up reaching forward, he spoke again—
“Are we really right for each other?”
Chi Zhuo’s gaze darkened. “We are. As long as you’re Ji Chenxi… then we are.”
If it were before, Ji Chenxi wouldn’t have cared at all about something like whether they were “right” for each other. But after experiencing what it felt like to be in the same space as a highly compatible omega, that old confidence of his had long since faded.
“You regret it?”
Chi Zhuo didn’t reach for the back of his neck this time. Instead, he grabbed Ji Chenxi by the collar and pulled him in, forcing a kiss on him—strong, leaving no room to refuse. In that overwhelming kiss, the words “too late” sounded almost light, but each syllable was bitten out clearly.
The hand that Ji Chenxi had been holding was guided to wrap around Chi Zhuo. As Ji Chenxi slowly sank into the closeness, losing himself in the contact during his sensitive period, Chi Zhuo spoke softly, “Actually… it’s not like I can’t modify my gland.”
Ji Chenxi, still caught in that closeness, lifted his eyes to look at him and coldly spat out, “Don’t even think about it.”
Chi Zhuo laughed. “Your Highness, why are you so cute? An eighteen-year-old acting soft, asking over and over ‘are we right’… really, it just means you can’t bear to let go.”
“Since when is that your business?”
Ji Chenxi was getting angry again. In his sensitive period, his emotions swung wildly, and it was easy for others to pull at them.
Chi Zhuo’s hand finally reached his neck. His fingers moved quickly, pulling out a needle nearly two centimeters long from the gland. The same person who had just complained about pain had actually pushed something that dangerous into the most fragile spot without hesitation.
Before Ji Chenxi could flare up at his reckless move, Chi Zhuo’s voice dropped low.
“Your Highness… right now, I really want to devour you. You know that—I’ve always wanted to mark you, to claim you.”
Ji Chenxi let out a cold snort, only to hear Chi Zhuo continue in that refined, almost aristocratic tone—
“My dear… let me claim you. Or… you can claim 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)
