Chapter 84: The Mad Dog’s Rut (Chasing Wife 1.0)

Chapter 84: Mad Dog in Rut (Wife-Chasing Phase 1.0)

Two in the morning.

Situ Jing awoke from a dream, his body burning with an unbearable heat—his rut had arrived.

The air conditioner in the room was set to a low temperature, but it did little to cool him down.

Situ Jing went downstairs, retrieved the medical kit, gave himself a suppressant shot, then took ice from the refrigerator, put it in a glass, and drank a glass of ice water.

The icy sensation eased some of the heat, making him feel much better than before, but the discomfort lingered.

For months, his pent-up desires had been building up, accumulating to an overwhelming intensity. Over time, this restlessness seemed to have escaped rational control, fueling an impulse that was hard to restrain.

Yet, no omega appealed to him—their pheromones were cloyingly sweet, unlike the fresh, green scent of figs.

Fig scent?

The thought made Situ Jing’s grip on the glass tighten.

Last night, he had dreamed again.

He dreamed of Bai Yu washing his face in the bathroom, his warm, fine-boned fingers caressing Situ Jing’s cheeks while whispering flirty banter—myosin and heartbeat, Mimi's Depression, the immortality of jellyfish. Situ Jing pulled Bai Yu into the bathtub, silencing his incessant talking as water splashed everywhere.

In reality, after two months of pursuit, Bai Yu had stopped working at nightclubs, and the two had not crossed paths even once.

Bai Yu was still in Yunjing but had slipped beyond Situ Jing’s reach.

He now frequented music training centers, suburban farm wedding venues, and out-of-the-way bubble tea shops—places where Situ Jing could no longer use "chance encounters" as an excuse to see him.

This made Situ Jing’s two months of relentless pursuit seem utterly ridiculous. It was like a game of whack-a-mole—after each round, the raised red mallet hadn't hit a single one.

Bai Yu was gone. He hadn’t returned, showed no signs of regret, and instead, it felt as though he had taken Situ Jing’s soul with him, leaving everything dull and hollow.

Situ Jing glanced at his blurred reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window—his eyes burning with a red-hot desire—and for a moment, the reflection transformed into Bai Yu’s likeness.

He hurled the glass at the window. With a loud crash, the glass struck the window, creating a web of cracks, then fell to the ground and shattered into two pieces.

The butler, hearing the noise, emerged in his pajamas and saw the damage to the window. "Young master, what happened?" he asked softly.

Situ Jing strode upstairs with a dark expression. "I suspect Jiang Ming’s medical skills are flawed. Have him come over right away."

The butler replied, "Understood."

Jiang Ming rushed over as soon as he received the call, puzzled as to why Situ Jing would question his expertise in the middle of the night.

When he entered the bedroom upstairs, Situ Jing stood by the window in a black robe, a cigarette between his fingers.

The room was thick with the scent of fir pheromone, so strong that Jiang Ming and the butler paused at the doorway.

Jiang Ming asked, "Are you in your rut?"

As Situ Jing turned, his hair was disheveled, dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze burned like two smoldering wildfires, hinting at a terrifying urge to devour everything. He looked both exhausted and overly agitated.

Jiang Ming maintained a calm facade but inwardly wondered, *Is he going mad? Where’s Bai Yu?*

Situ Jing extinguished his cigarette on an amber stone, his voice icy. "You claimed my condition was cured, so why do I feel no attraction to other omegas?"

Seeing his state, Jiang Ming refrained from jumping to conclusions. "Let’s first check your pheromone levels."

Situ Jing left the bedroom and went downstairs to the medical exam room on the left, lying down on the diagnostic bed.

Jiang Ming extracted a small sample of pheromones from Situ Jing’s red, swollen gland at the nape of his neck and ran tests on his vital signs.

After reviewing the results, Jiang Ming handed the electronic report to Situ Jing. "Your pheromone levels are above average, and your heart rate is elevated, but these fluctuations are normal during rut. Overall, you’re in excellent health. There’s no issue, and it shouldn’t affect your sexual orientation."

Situ Jing scrutinized the data, confirming Jiang Ming’s assessment, then set the tablet aside and hesitantly posed a question.

"Why do I now need Bai Yu’s scent to fall asleep?"

Jiang Ming crossed his arms. "There’s only one explanation—your attachment to Bai Yu has transcended physiological influence."

Situ Jing fell silent, his brow heavy with gloom.

Jiang Ming glanced around, well aware that Bai Yu’s sudden disappearance was suspicious but deliberately pointed it out. "Is Bai Yu not here?"

The butler beside him coughed lightly.

Jiang Ming looked down at his feet, secretly smirking. *Karma’s already biting back?*

He lifted his head, resuming his professional composure, and suggested, "Why not just bring him back?"

After a moment of silence, Situ Jing replied coldly, "He’s the one who made the mistake. Why should I be the one inviting him back?"

His pride would never allow him to lower his head. Why should he seek out Bai Yu?

Preposterous.

Even if Bai Yu lost all his money, ended up homeless, and scraped by on meager earnings, it was his own doing.

Situ Jing had spent so much effort molding Bai Yu into who he was now. Letting him experience the harsh realities of the world would make him realize who truly cared for him and could help him.

Jiang Ming pursed his lips and offered another suggestion to his difficult employer. "Your high pheromone level means your rut will be more intense. Relying solely on medication and self-control will be tough. Why not find something of his, like clothes, to soothe yourself?"

The butler coughed lightly. "All his clothes were packed and taken away. Not a single item remains."

Jiang Ming clicked his tongue. "Then there’s no other way. You’ll have to endure it."

"Quack."

Situ Jing rose from the diagnostic bed and strode out abruptly.

Jiang Ming: "?"

*Really? Now it’s my fault?*

Back upstairs, Situ Jing bypassed the spacious master bedroom and entered the guest room diagonally across from it.

Secretary Zhou had mentioned that Bai Yu had particularly liked this room when he first moved in, even mistaking it for his own assigned quarters.

*

What was so special about this room?

Situ Jing’s eyes swept across the earth-toned sofa, small round table, white double bed, bookshelf, desk by the window, and the balcony.

He had grown up in a bright, expansive estate, living in rooms larger than this one. During summer and winter breaks, he traveled the world, staying in luxurious residences everywhere.

For him, apart from the piano room in the old mansion, no other room could hold such deep meaning.

Of course, he also couldn’t understand why Bai Yu was so fond of this room, even picking a fight over it.

Situ Jing opened the wardrobe—it was completely empty, with not a single piece of Bai Yu’s clothing to be found. Under the carpet, inside the drawers, and even in the toilet tank were unexpectedly clean.

The butler had followed orders and cleared out all of Bai Yu’s belongings, doing a thorough job.

Situ Jing went to the bedroom to grab his cigarettes and lighter, then returned to the guest room. Just as he was about to light a cigarette while sitting on the sofa, he caught a faint, familiar scent.

He tossed the lighter onto the table, picked up a sofa cushion, and breathed in deeply, eyes shut. Clutching the cushion tightly, he leaned back on the sofa.

Situ Jing began to imagine what Bai Yu might have been doing while holding this cushion on the sofa.

The butler had mentioned that Bai Yu often used the projector in the guest room to watch movies, perhaps sitting cross-legged on the sofa with this cushion in his arms, eyes fixed on the projected images on the opposite wall, sometimes even shedding a tear or two because of the storyline.

Lost in these thoughts, Situ Jing held the cushion tightly and gradually started feeling sleepy.

At some point, he woke up again. The sofa was too narrow and uneven, making it uncomfortable to sleep on.

Situ Jing threw all the cushions onto the floor to make more space and suddenly noticed something stuck along the edge of the sofa cushion.

His eyes lit up, like a traveler in the desert discovering a blade of grass and digging through the sand in search of water beneath.

After removing the sofa cushion, he found a light-colored pajama shirt, now crumpled and wrinkled.

Situ Jing held the pajama shirt, pressed his face into it, and inhaled deeply—it still carried Bai Yu’s scent. The fragrance soothed him but also made him feel restless, making him miss that person even more.

He called the butler upstairs again.

The butler knocked and entered the guest room, asking respectfully, "Young Master, what is it?"

Situ Jing placed the pajama shirt on the table and asked coldly, "Why is this still here?"

The butler looked closely at the pajama—it did look familiar. "Perhaps Mr. Bai Yu accidentally dropped it when we were organizing his clothes that day?"

Situ Jing leaned back against the sofa, crossing his long legs. "He’s been gone for three or four months, and no one noticed a piece of clothing hidden here?"

"My mistake," the butler said, stepping closer to the sofa. "Young Master, I’ll take it away and get rid of it."

Just as the butler’s hand was about to touch the pajama shirt, Situ Jing suddenly said, "Leave it."

The butler respectfully withdrew his hand. "Very well."

Situ Jing rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. "That's all."

Having served the Situ Family for years, the butler knew perfectly well that Situ Jing hadn’t called him upstairs to actually reprimand him but to "legitimately" claim the pajama shirt.

Once the butler had confirmed its presence, the pajama shirt became something the butler had overlooked, not something Situ Jing had picked up.

If even a pajama shirt warranted such care, how much more so for other things?

Situ Jing had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, never needing to please anyone or lower his pride for someone else’s sake. It had always been others accommodating him, never the other way around.

But if he remained unchanged, he might truly miss out for good.

After all, that person had genuinely not wanted to stay here and had left without hesitation.

As the butler reached the door, he turned back and said with concern, "Young Master, why not consider what Bai Yu said?"

Situ Jing lifted his gaze, his voice low. "Whose butler are you?"

"The butler of the Situ Family."

"Remember that. Starting tomorrow, return to Xidun Manor."

"Very well." The butler left the guest room.

*

On a sunny afternoon at the South Gate Scrap Collection Station.

A chubby kid wearing a bib was squatting on the ground, playing with two toys—a Red Seven-Spot Ladybug Ceramic Sculpture in his left hand and an Ultraman Tiga in his right. He was narrating as he played:

"The ladybug monster has smart-looking eyes, seven legs, and can even transform and fly! Ultraman uses his laser, shooting at the ladybug monster, pew pew pew... The ladybug monster dodges the laser and sneakily flies away, wooo~~"

Suddenly, the scrap station’s large iron gate was kicked open, and a group of men in black rushed in.

A tall man wearing sunglasses walked in, scanning the messy, fly-filled yard with disdain before striding directly toward the chubby kid.

The child, overshadowed by the man, looked up to see tightly pressed thin lips, a sharp jawline casting a shadow, a broad chest, and a tall figure—just like the sinister villain on TV.

The child, who had never seen such a scene, froze in fear, his nose running. "Wh-who are you?"

The man reached out his hand and said coldly, "Give me what’s in your hand."

The child looked down at the two toys in his hands and reluctantly decided to offer Ultraman. "Here you go."

The man stared at the object in the child’s other hand. "I want that one."

Seeing that the man wanted his big ladybug, the child angrily hid it behind his back. "This is mine!"

The man’s face darkened. "Won’t give it?"

Pouting, both angry and scared, the child said, "My grandma gave it to me!"

The man grabbed the child’s hand and snatched the Red Seven-Spot Ladybug Ceramic Sculpture. Secretary Zhou immediately pushed a brand-new remote-controlled car into the child’s hands.

Seeing his big ladybug replaced with a remote-controlled car, the child burst into tears and ran to find his grandma. "Grandma, the big bad guy took my ladybug! Waaah~"

The scrap station was a family-run operation. The grandma, seeing her grandson crying, rushed over and asked, puzzled, "That thing was something we picked up. I just let my grandson play with it. What’s the matter?"

Secretary Zhou handed a substantial check to the elderly woman. "This is something my boss wants. Please accept this as compensation."

The grandma looked at the amount on the check, her eyes widening in surprise. "100,000 yuan?"

For a kids' clay toy, was it worth the big boss coming to a dump like this and spending 100,000 yuan to buy it?

Beaming, the grandma pointed to a pile of recycled items nearby, with smelly water puddles on the ground. "There’s a lot more stuff here, all things people didn’t want. Would your boss like to come back and see if there’s anything else he likes?"

Secretary Zhou pushed his glasses up. "Uh... thanks, but my boss only wants that one."

With this, Secretary Zhou finally felt relieved, freed from a week of exhausting search.

God knows how much effort he had expended—finding the cleaning lady responsible for the top-floor office that day, having her recall when she took out the trash, locating the recycling centers, staying up all night checking security camera footage along the garbage truck’s route, and figuring out where the ladybug ceramic sculpture might have been taken.

And finally, here, they found it.

Thankfully, it wasn’t broken!

After Bai Yu left, Situ Jing seemed his usual self on the surface, but he never stopped being angry, naturally making life harder for his staff.

During some unoccupied moments, when Secretary Zhou knocked on the office door, he would often find Situ Jing sitting in his boss chair with his eyes closed, a silver lighter in his hand. Click—the flame would spring to life; click—it would shut.

An unspeakable oppressive feeling radiated from the man, plunging the office into a tense, stifling silence.

Even during the company’s most perilous moments, Secretary Zhou had never seen Situ Jing like this.

Spending extravagantly in nightclubs every evening seemed more like an unrestrained, frenzied venting, yet not a hint of genuine joy ever showed on Situ Jing’s face.

Secretary Zhou stole a glance in the rearview mirror. Situ Jing, seated in the back, was carefully spraying alcohol and wiping the ladybug pottery, treating it like a priceless treasure as he inspected its tiny chips.

The gloomy, tense expression on the man’s face finally softened a little.

In moments like these, Secretary Zhou actually wanted to speak up.

But after years as a secretary, he understood his boss’s temper all too well.

After learning that Jiang Ming had been scolded and the butler sent back to Hidton Manor, Secretary Zhou knew to seal his lips and focus on his duties.

"Boss, where to today?"

Situ Jing replied calmly, "Yanting."

"Understood, Boss."

Secretary Zhou started the car, jolting along the muddy, cracked path until they reached the main road.

*

Back at Yanting, Situ Jing had someone source paint that matched the exact color of the ladybug pottery and carefully filled in the chipped spots.

He still remembered how, while making this pottery, Bai Yu had gotten white clay smudged on both cheeks. As Bai Yu worked on his own piece, he kept stealing glances at Situ Jing’s scarab pottery, convinced he wasn’t being noticed—until his glances turned into blatant staring.

Who knew what that little fool was thinking at the time? He even ended up missing a leg.

In Situ Jing’s memory, aside from showing focus in music, Bai Yu was often distracted in other areas, easily influenced by others’ emotions, excessively compassionate, and unable to distinguish what truly mattered.

Situ Jing suspected that Bai Yu’s pity for his father might have stemmed solely from seeing his father’s emotional breakdown at the engagement party.

In reality, his father had plenty of ways to entertain himself—horseback riding, golf, fencing, watching sports, vacationing on islands—always accompanied by assistants, girlfriends, and servants. Could that really be considered loneliness?

Would marrying Lin Xiaoran make his father’s life any better than it was now?

For the first time, a flicker of regret surfaced in Situ Jing’s heart. Arguing fiercely over his father’s affairs and then firing Bai Yu suddenly seemed not worth it.

If he hadn’t told Secretary Zhou to immediately return the contract to Bai Yu that day, he might still have had a chance to use it as a reason to bring him back. He wouldn’t be so passive now.

But the regret lasted only a moment before fading away.

Situ Jing never regretted his decisions—he only looked for solutions.

As night fell, Situ Jing left the ladybug pottery on the table to dry and went to take a shower.

A while later, the bathroom door opened, steam billowing out. Situ Jing emerged in a black bathrobe, droplets from his wet hair trickling down his barely exposed chest. He walked to the desk, picked up the remote, and closed the curtains.

The room went completely dark, with only the floor lamp beside the sofa casting a glow.

Situ Jing opened a laptop, the square screen’s white light illuminating his stern face. His profound, obscure eyes remained fixed on the screen.

With a tap on the keyboard, the video began to play, accompanied by low, winding moans.

The timestamp in the upper right corner showed it was from Bai Yu’s birthday last year, right after they visited the insect museum and did it in the car before leaving.

The car camera had only captured their blurred silhouettes in the back seat under dim light.

Situ Jing preferred the actual act and had initially intended to delete the recording. But in a moment of impulse, he saved it to his computer—the only copy he kept.

Now, this video had become his only tool for comfort.

Situ Jing turned up the volume, and Bai Yu’s voice filled the room, clear and distinct. In the dim footage, pale, slender legs trembled against the car window.

His eyes darkened, his Adam’s apple bobbed, one hand clutching the ladybug pottery while the other untied his bathrobe belt, revealing well-defined muscles and a latent, powerful intensity.

On screen, Bai Yu arched his neck, pearls of sweat glistening along his skin, lips slightly parted as trembling sounds like crying or sobbing escaped—whether from pain or extreme pleasure, it was hard to tell.

Situ Jing closed his eyes, his breathing growing heavier. Gripping the pottery tighter, the veins on his solid forearm bulged.

Time seemed to stretch indefinitely. When the video ended, Situ Jing leaned back against the sofa, tilting his head up as he slowly lingered in the aftertaste.

The bedroom was so quiet that his heartbeat echoed loudly in the silence.

"Miss you, Bai Yu."

Situ Jing opened his eyes, gazing at the restored ladybug pottery on the table, and wiped what was on his hand onto the ladybug.

He couldn’t help but wonder—out there in the sweltering heat, doing low-wage, laborious work, hadn’t Bai Yu ever missed his life at Yanting?

No, he must have.

Once someone has tasted luxury and abundance, they can never truly settle for their former poverty.

Perhaps it was time to remove Bai Yu from the blacklist.

To give him a chance to contact him.