Chapter 6

Chapter 6

In the lounge.

Song Yuqiao removed his coat and sat on the edge of the bed, his posture poised and elegant. His pale, cold complexion was tinged with a faint blush, yet his expression remained aloof.

Whether it was his racing heart, his labored breathing, the muscles straining against his white shirt, or the bulging blue veins—all of it betrayed the lack of calm he appeared to display.

Song Jianan stood uncertainly before him, unsure whether to kiss Song Yuqiao first or undress him first.

Then he heard Song Yuqiao’s cold command: "Jia Jia, take off your clothes yourself."

Song Jianan’s eyelashes fluttered, his eyes widening slightly as he instinctively looked at Song Yuqiao. Meeting that icy gaze, he quickly lowered his head.

Though he felt an indescribable awkwardness and embarrassment, he obediently complied.

Two cold gazes rested boldly on him, and his movements gradually slowed.

His hands trembled uncontrollably.

Song Yuqiao didn’t hurry him, watching wordlessly instead, his eyes growing increasingly terrifying.

The more obedient Song Jianan was, the more rage boiled in Song Yuqiao’s chest, burning so fiercely it nearly robbed him of reason.

As more clothes piled on the floor, pheromones frantically filled the enclosed, not-so-spacious room.

A thin mist formed on the surface of the furniture in the lounge.

Song Jianan stopped moving, his hands twitching as if to cover himself, but in the end, they simply hung at his sides.

He felt like a product on display in a shop window, brazenly scrutinized by a pair of eyes.

It was deeply mortifying.

But he knew he shouldn’t—and couldn’t—refuse.

He was going to sleep with Song Yuqiao, so being looked at beforehand was nothing.

Song Yuqiao’s gaze lingered on a dazzling expanse of white, the ice in his eyes scorched away by a blazing fire.

He swallowed hard, his voice hoarse yet still devoid of any extra emotion, coldly reminding Song Jianan, "You’re not fully undressed yet."

Song Jianan looked up at him, his dark, glistening eyes filled with resistance.

But Song Yuqiao only watched him coldly, showing no trace of the man who had previously persuaded Song Jianan not to give up.

Song Jianan had no choice but to remove the last bit of white.

Delicate and pink.

Very pretty.

And very adorable.

Song Yuqiao half-lidded his eyes, his tone ambiguous as he said, "Jia Jia, come here."

Song Jianan walked over to him, not daring to stand too close, lest he end up right in Song Yuqiao’s face.

Song Yuqiao reached out and touched him, his fingertips lightly grazing.

Song Jianan instantly tensed up.

It felt like a tiny electric current had passed through him, leaving a tingling, numbing sensation.

This unfamiliar feeling filled him with panic, his dark eyes gradually growing moist.

Song Yuqiao withdrew his hand but had no intention of letting him off.

He grabbed Song Jianan’s wrist and pulled downward, causing Song Jianan to uncontrollably slide down.

Looking down from above, Song Yuqiao’s presence felt even more oppressive as he uttered two merciless words: "Unbutton it."

Song Jianan tremblingly complied.

His eyes widened abruptly, startled.

Perhaps already anticipating what Song Yuqiao intended to do, he lifted a fearful face, his gaze pleading and pitiful.

Song Yuqiao touched his face, then pinched his slightly parted lips. His narrow eyes darkened ominously, a hidden madness urging and prompting him.

Jia Jia’s lips were so beautiful—they were made to take him.

That version of Jia Jia would surely be stunning.

If he wanted to be his lover, why wasn’t he taking the initiative?

How dare he refuse!

Song Jianan’s heart trembled under his gaze, fear reaching its peak. Bracing himself on Song Yuqiao’s knees, he tried to escape Song Yuqiao’s control.

But a strong force pressed him down abruptly, his face colliding head-on, his nose aching from the impact.

Song Yuqiao looked down at him, his tone almost inquiring, yet it only made Song Jianan more afraid: "Jia Jia, do I need to take the initiative myself?"

Tears glistened in Song Jianan’s eyes as he said, on the verge of crying, "No, I’ll be obedient."

Song Yuqiao patted his head as a reward.

Song Jianan reached out with trembling hands, closed his eyes, and a crystal tear slid down his cheek.

The palm on the back of his head moved down to his fragile neck, lightly stroking the porcelain-white skin.

That hand suddenly stilled, pressing against the slender, pale nape, the palm applying pressure.

A long time later, Song Jianan pulled a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his mouth. Just as he finished, his chin was lifted, forcing him to look up. His eyes were tearful, his lips bright red and slightly parted, the corner torn, emitting a cold pheromone scent. He looked utterly pitiful.

Song Yuqiao stared at him for a while, his Adam’s apple moving several times. He used his thumb to wipe away the tear tracks on Song Jianan’s face, then gently patted his cheek. "Go rinse your mouth. There’s a bottle of water in the drawer."

Song Jianan had been kneeling for a long time. His skin was tender, and when he stood up, his knees were bruised and aching.

As he rinsed his mouth, the water washing over it brought a lingering, worn-out pain.

He furrowed his brows, enduring the discomfort, and didn’t stop until he had rinsed thoroughly before standing before Song Yuqiao again.

Song Yuqiao gave his wrist a light tug, pulling him into an embrace.

Song Jianan nearly gasped but was silenced by a kiss, a cool sensation slipping inside.

A hand pressed against his waist, forcing his body into a strikingly beautiful curve.

Song Yuqiao could hold him with just one hand. As the kiss deepened, his fingertips, entwined with the icy pheromones, caressed with measured intensity.

Song Jianan’s head spun; he could hardly keep up with Song Yuqiao, letting him dictate the pace entirely.

His porcelain skin looked as if it had been dipped in rouge, flushed a delicate pink, beautifully striking under Song Yuqiao’s palm.

His body grew feverish, yet the room was flooded with a raging, icy pheromone that left his skin slightly chilled—a true clash of ice and fire.

As the source of those pheromones, Song Yuqiao was well accustomed to it.

Just as Song Jianan’s mind grew muddled, Assistant Lin’s voice suddenly came from outside.

Song Jianan snapped to attention, tensed up like a startled rabbit, as if ready to flee at any moment.

A flash of irritation at the interruption passed through Song Yuqiao’s eyes, but instead of stopping, he kissed even more aggressively.

In his panic, Song Jianan stained Song Yuqiao’s shirt.

He froze for a moment, his mind sluggish to process, before finally realizing what had happened.

Pursing his lips, he glanced anxiously at Song Yuqiao but couldn’t decipher his expression—though he didn’t seem angry.

Song Jianan let out a small sigh of relief, only to suddenly find himself laid back and placed on the gray bedsheet.

Song Yuqiao held him down for another kiss before finally releasing him and standing up.

Song Jianan watched as Song Yuqiao pulled a matching blanket over him, wiped briefly with a tissue, put on his coat, fastened the buttons, then strode out the door.

Through the door, he couldn’t make out what was being said outside.

Lying in bed, Song Jianan’s mind raced with anxious thoughts.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about having nowhere to stay tonight.

Song Yuqiao could handle those two for him, so he wouldn’t have to fear being confronted when returning to school.

He could stay at Song Yuqiao’s place for a while, work part-time to save up for dorm fees, then move into the school dorm and stop being a burden to Song Yuqiao.

Should he keep calling Song Yuqiao “brother,” or switch to “Boss Song”? “Boss Song” felt so awkward.

He hadn’t cleaned up properly earlier, and Song Yuqiao had covered him with the blanket—now it was soiled too.

Would Song Yuqiao just distance himself after getting what he wanted? Probably not.

Would Assistant Lin notice something off about Song Yuqiao’s condition? Would he detect that scent on him?

If people found out about this situation between him and Song Yuqiao, what would he do? What would Song Yuqiao tell others?

How high was Song Yuqiao’s sexual appetite? Someone so emotionally distant probably had a low sex drive.

After a jumble of thoughts, he grew increasingly apprehensive of what was to come.

Song Yuqiao was terrifying.

They said Alphas had innate advantages beyond ordinary people—and it was no exaggeration.

The more Song Jianan thought about it, the more frightened he became. His delicate face scrunched up, his heart racing with nervous tension.

Song Yuqiao returned quickly.

Standing by the door, he saw Song Jianan on the verge of tears, bundled in the blanket and shrinking into the corner of the bed, his red eyes pleading pitifully with him.

Song Yuqiao’s steps were urgent, his eyes no longer calm and detached. The desire he had forcibly suppressed erupted like a volcano breaking through ice, carrying a burning, overwhelming intensity.

The panicked rabbit on the bed, trying to flee, was held down by him, his body trembling slightly.

……

Song Jianan’s legs ached, dangling helplessly in the air, toes curled, completely unaware that the icy pheromones were wrapping around him like chains, sealing him tightly.

Song Yuqiao buried his face in Song Jianan’s shoulder, his canine teeth grazing the delicate skin, eager and testing.

Driven by Alpha instinct, he gently nipped at a small area, leaving two deep bite marks, then quickly released it, soothing the bite with his tongue, leaving it damp.

Betas couldn’t be marked; forcing a mark would only rip the flesh and leave scars, nothing more.

Song Yuqiao wasn’t an Alpha lost to heat-induced madness—he wouldn’t truly bite Song Jianan as if he were an Omega. After a few light attempts, he shifted his attention.

Lingering over barren hills, he tasted the sweetness of that pinkness that had long captivated him.

……

Song Jianan was too shy to make noise, biting his lip stubbornly, only letting slip soft, broken moans when the gray sheets wrinkled intensely.

He was turned over, face buried in the pillow, hoping it would muffle the indecent noises. His guarded nerves relaxed slightly, and the sounds escaped muffled into the pillow.

The person behind him seemed even more excited, pheromones running rampant, flooding his nose and mouth, as if trying to mark him inside and out with his scent.

Song Jianan knew nothing, his knees giving way as he fell forward, only to be firmly pulled back.

"Jia Jia, don’t cover up. I want to hear you."

Song Jianan widened his eyes, confused by the demand, but he had no right to refuse.

He parted his lips, trying to produce similar sounds, but found he didn’t know how. Confusion and helplessness filled his dark, round eyes.

Not hearing what he wanted, Song Yuqiao grew dissatisfied and spanked him twice as punishment.

Song Jianan let out a surprised gasp, the sound making him burn with shame.

Song Yuqiao suddenly laughed, his tone unusually lacking its characteristic chill, as if praising a child. "So well-behaved."

He was pleased, but Song Jianan felt an indescribable mix of grievance and humiliation.

Song Yuqiao was fierce enough in bed—why did he have to spank him too?

He didn’t dare say a word, tears streaming down uncontrollably, yet he had to submit to Song Yuqiao’s control.

……

Song Yuqiao’s pheromones were rare—ice. In small amounts, they seemed almost scentless, faint, like ice straight from the freezer.

But when his pheromone concentration spiked, it made those around him feel as if trapped in an icy winter—nothing but cold, so intense it nearly masked the scent itself.

Even though Betas couldn’t smell pheromones, in an environment where the icy pheromones were so thick they felt tangible, they could still sense the chill.

Especially when entry came with highly concentrated pheromones—the cold was sharper than ever, mingling with the heat.

Song Jianan buried himself in Song Yuqiao’s embrace, cheek pressed against his chest, shivering uncontrollably.

Song Jianan's entire body ached, his bones sore as if he had been beaten. He lay listlessly on the bed, curled up, permeated with a chill.

Song Yuqiao stood before the bed, fully dressed, his expression composed as if he had completely detached from the passion of their earlier activities.

His gaze drifted downward.

Song Jianan’s body was covered in marks too vivid to look at directly. His fair skin made the marks especially stark.

Like a blank piece of paper personally marked up by Song Yuqiao.

Song Yuqiao’s gaze darkened slightly. His gaze shifted to that face still streaked with tears, paused for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line before he looked away.

Just as he was about to speak, his clothes were tugged.

Song Jianan lifted his head, asking tentatively, “Brother, you meant what you said earlier, right?”

Song Yuqiao’s gaze lowered slightly, clearly seeing the anxiety and nervousness in his eyes. His own expression cooled, fixed on him for a few seconds before he nodded.

Song Jianan’s dark, glossy eyes lit up, his tone much lighter, with a probing tone, “Then… could you help me separate my household registration first, and set up a new one?”

Song Yuqiao: “Sure.”

Song Jianan’s eyes brightened even more, continuing, “Then… can I not go back to my biological parents’ home in the future?”

He observed Song Yuqiao’s expression—it seemed a bit colder than when he got out of bed, but not as icy as usual.

He hesitated for a moment, then still said softly, “I have no feelings for them, I don’t want to see them.”

Song Yuqiao still said, “Okay, then don’t go back.”

Song Jianan’s eyes curved into smiles. Finally resolving the most urgent matter, his mood brightened, shedding the listlessness from before.

Song Yuqiao shot him a brief glance. “Get yourself together and come out.”

He turned and walked out of the lounge.

Song Jianan waited until he had left before slowly getting out of bed.

When he stood up, his legs went weak, and he almost buckled.

After adjusting for a moment, he picked up the clothes from the floor, brushed them off, and put them on one by one.

His body enveloped by the clothes felt like a snail retreating into its heavy shell—he felt safe.

Lifting his eyes, he saw the mess on the bed, his cheeks flushing. He averted his gaze as if to escape, but then wondered if he should clean it up.

After a moment’s thought, he began to tidy up, pulling off the sheets and duvet cover. Just as he found spares in the cabinet, the lounge door opened.

Song Yuqiao stood at the doorway, his face darkening. “No need for you to clean up. Just get dressed and come out.”

With that, he disappeared from the doorway.

Song Jianan pressed his lips together, put down what he was holding, and walked out of the lounge.