Chapter 9: Who the Hell Allowed You to Touch Him?

Chapter 9 Who the F*ck Said You Could Touch Him?

Qin Yan came out of the recording studio, and most of the people in the hall had already left, with only two or three still waiting around.

Yang Yichen was about to leave.

"Brother Yan? What took you so long? I thought you'd already left." Yang Yichen walked up to him.

Qin Yan casually glanced at the bag he was holding: "You're heading out?"

"Yeah, there's still a gathering tonight. You coming?"

"No."

"Knew it." Yang Yichen slung his bag over his shoulder, "I'll head out then. See you in a few days? We should grab food sometime."

"Yeah."

Where did Su Zhiyu go? Did he take off on his own again?

"Wait." Qin Yan called out to Yang Yichen, sounding a bit awkward, "Did you see Su Zhiyu when you came out just now?"

Yang Yichen shook his head: "No. He's always been a loner. He probably wrapped up and left early."

Alright.

That was so Su Zhiyu.

Qin Yan grabbed his jacket off the seat and was about to leave too, but as he passed the last row, he still glanced over out of habit.

There was a half-drunk bottle of water on the seat. This was where Su Zhiyu had been sitting earlier.

The water was still there, so he hadn't left yet?

Qin Yan thought for a moment, then put on his jacket and sat down, planning to wait for Su Zhiyu so they could leave together.

Someone in the front row muttered, confused: "What's that smell? Did the crew's bananas go bad?"

"Probably. Why didn't they bring them out earlier? I'm starving, and it's not even my turn."

"Tell me about it. I'm starving too."

Qin Yan overheard their conversation.

He sniffed the air. Sure enough, there was a faint banana smell, like something overripe.

Wait, no!

This was Alpha pheromone scent.

Qin Yan's pupils contracted, unease creeping in. Could some Alpha be going into rut?

Qin Yan was an S-level Alpha, more sensitive to pheromones. In the faint, spreading scent, he caught a whiff of a familiar white peach smell.

Su Zhiyu!

Qin Yan's expression shifted, and he rushed straight backstage.

He went down the corridor and stopped at a prop room door, where two different pheromone scents were seeping out.

The white peach scent was so faint it was almost undetectable. If Qin Yan hadn't been so familiar with that smell, he might not have noticed it at all.

"You stubborn little bitch, still got the nerve to kick me? I wasn't gonna mark you, but since you don't know what's good for you, don't blame me..."

BAM.

The door was kicked open with a loud crash, startling both people inside, who froze and turned to look.

The prop room was trashed. Su Zhiyu lay on the ground, hair disheveled, shattered glass all around him, clothes torn in several places, looking battered and broken.

The young man bit his lip hard, clutching a dagger to his chest, a cold gleam in his damp eyes as he tried to hide his helplessness and fear.

Qin Yan stormed in.

Su Zhiyu flinched hard, his barely held composure about to shatter. He raised the dagger to his own neck: "Don't come near me! Don't come near me..."

This was his last resort.

Qin Yan skidded to a stop, his voice shaking a little: "Okay, okay, I won't come over. Don't move."

Cheng Xiang beside him casually brushed the dust off his jacket and snorted: "Scared already?"

Qin Yan's fingers, hanging at his sides, suddenly clenched.

Cheng Xiang, completely oblivious, stepped forward and reached out to pat Qin Yan's shoulder: "If you ask me, you should just—ah!"

A fist smashed into Cheng Xiang's eye.

"Who the f*ck said you could touch him? I'll f*cking kill you!"

Before he could react, Qin Yan grabbed a small stool and smashed it over his head. With a crack, the wooden stool shattered into pieces.

"F*cking..."

Cheng Xiang's curse was cut short as Qin Yan hit him again, snapping his head to the side. Then he was thrown to the ground, both arms twisted behind him at an unnatural angle.

"Ah..."

A shrill scream echoed through the prop room.

Qin Yan had never felt this strong, as if he had an endless well of rage inside him.

As if every fighting instinct in him had been unleashed, Qin Yan grabbed Cheng Xiang by the collar with one hand and punched him in the mouth with the other.

The commotion was so loud that several staff members came rushing over.

"Stop! Stop it!"

Qin Yan looked up, his fierce expression on full display, and the young staff members froze in fear, not daring to move.

One of them, a team leader, said nervously: "Don't, don't hit him anymore. Let's talk this out."

Cheng Xiang, dazed from the beating, spat out a mouthful of blood along with two teeth.

Yikes.

The staff members flinched.

Qin Yan let go and sneered: "How the hell did a criminal guilty of attempted rape even get on this show?"

What?!

The staff was stunned.

Cheng Xiang, furious and fuming, started cursing: "I didn't do a damn thing! It's you—you're always picking on Zhi Yu. I came to save—"

"Oh, really?"

Qin Yan rolled his wrist, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

Cheng Xiang felt a chill run down his spine for no reason he could name, the rest of his words dying in his throat.

The air went dead silent.

Clang.

The sound of the dagger hitting the ground shattered the eerie stillness. Su Zhiyu, white as a sheet, was curled up on the floor, shaking all over.

The cold, sinister look on Qin Yan's face cracked for a second. Forgetting all about the fight, he shrugged off his jacket, draped it over Su Zhiyu, and scooped him up.

The overwhelming Alpha pheromones quickly wiped out that rotten-banana stench, bearing down on everyone in the room and making them break out in a cold sweat.

His icy stare swept the room before landing on Cheng Xiang's bruised, swollen face. "I'm not letting this go today."

"Show me the way!"

The staff quickly cleared the doorway, and once they snapped out of it, they hurriedly led him out the back way, where there were fewer people. Not one of them dared to say a word.

Once they were gone, Cheng Xiang hauled himself up and kicked over a table in a rage. "Damn it, threatening me? You're all gonna pay!"

...

Qin Yan hurried out carrying Su Zhiyu, and the driver just happened to pull up at the back entrance. Taking one look at the scene, he gasped in shock: "Young master, what the hell happened? Why's there so much blood?"

Blood?

Only after Qin Yan got Su Zhiyu into the car did he notice the blood on his own hands. The back of Su Zhiyu's clothes was torn, with several shards of glass embedded in his back and dark red stains spreading across the fabric.

The old scars crisscrossing his back were still there, and now new wounds had been layered on top.

The driver was just as alarmed—weren't they just going to film a show? How the hell did it end up like this?

"Young master—"

"To the hospital!"

Qin Yan's face went dark as a storm cloud.

The driver didn't dare cross the unpredictable young master, so he floored it toward the nearest hospital.

Qin Yan held Su Zhiyu tight, the familiar scent of rum shutting out everyone else's pheromones.

Su Zhiyu weakly grabbed at Qin Yan's clothes, burrowing into his chest in agony. His skin was burning hot, and the white peach scent in the car kept getting thicker.

The driver was a Beta and couldn't smell the pheromones.

But Qin Yan could feel it all too clearly—the restless surge of Omega pheromones and the desperate, out-of-control movements of the man in his arms.

This was bad. Really bad.

Su Zhiyu seemed to have been thrown into heat by Cheng Xiang.

Qin Yan grabbed his wandering hand and snapped at the driver, "How much longer till we get to the hospital?"

The driver glanced at the map. "Young master, it's rush hour. The nearest hospital is at least half an hour away, probably more."

"Suppressant..."

Su Zhiyu panted hard, yanking his hand free and frantically tearing off the jacket draped over him. A bead of sweat slid down his arched neck.

The sweet white peach scent spread to every corner of the car.

Every breath Qin Yan took had the Omega's scent spinning his head, the glands at the back of his neck throbbing.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice came out rough.

"Pull over and go buy a suppressant patch."

The driver glanced back in surprise but didn't dare ask. "Y-yes, sir."