EN Chapter 3

Shang Jingyan didn’t plan to do anything. He gently carried Chi Sui out of the wardrobe. After days of sleeping in there, Chi Sui had unconsciously grown familiar with Shang Jingyan’s pheromones. In his half-asleep daze, he instinctively wrapped his arms around Shang Jingyan’s neck, only to shiver awake when the cold insignia on Shang Jingyan’s uniform brushed against him.

“Sh-Shang… General Shang…” Chi Sui stammered, suddenly wide awake. Unsure of what to call him, he awkwardly wriggled, trying to get down.

Shang Jingyan’s expression darkened. He was annoyed with himself for losing control and unintentionally releasing his pheromones, which had stirred the freshly matured omega in his arms. He loosened Chi Sui’s arms from around his neck, letting the younger man leave his embrace.

Yet a flicker of dissatisfaction crossed Shang Jingyan’s face as he briskly deposited Chi Sui onto the bed, wrapping him tightly in the blanket. He was afraid Chi Sui would notice something off about him. His tone was brusque. “I’m going to shower. Go to sleep.” He turned toward the bathroom but glanced back to add sternly, “Don’t run off.”

Chi Sui was both flustered and apprehensive. Wearing someone else’s clothes, barging into someone else’s room—these were actions that, in his old life, would have earned him a harsh scolding or even a beating. The old him would have fled long before facing the consequences, yet here he was, staying obediently in place. I did something wrong, he thought. I don’t want to be thrown out.

But Chi Sui was freshly eighteen, his glands barely matured, and he’d unknowingly been affected by Shang Jingyan’s high-level Alpha pheromones. Shang Jingyan’s scent was seemingly faint and cool, like snowmelt from a mountain spring, but it infiltrated every corner, domineering and overwhelming.

Under the subtle influence of that snowmelt-like aroma, Chi Sui started to feel increasingly strange.

When Shang Jingyan finally calmed himself and came out of the bathroom, the room was already filled with the intoxicating scent of red tea blossoms and ripe fruit. His muscles instantly tensed. Chi Sui had been triggered into heat.

Normally, Chi Sui’s pheromones were faint, barely noticeable, with only a hint of bitter tea—simple and unremarkable, much like a wild dogtail grass. But some teas, though not aromatic at first, leave a lasting and refreshing fragrance on the palate.

All they need is the right water—top-quality snowmelt, for instance.

The usually bristly omega was now curled up on the bed, whimpering into a pillow as waves of unbearable desire overtook him. He bit down on the pillowcase, struggling to suppress his overwhelming impulses. When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice came out sweet and sticky, startling himself. He turned his gaze toward Shang Jingyan, trying to muster a glare at the man he saw as the culprit.

But his eyes were soft and misty, carrying a wordless plea.

Chi Sui’s fixed heat cycle was still far off, so there was no inhibitor prepared in the house. The remote military district was sparsely populated, and its soldiers were primarily Alphas or Betas.

Worried Chi Sui might bite his own tongue, Shang Jingyan approached and gently patted his back to soothe him, coaxing the damp pillowcase from his mouth. He called his adjutant to deliver inhibitors and released a controlled amount of his own pheromones in an attempt to calm Chi Sui.

But Chi Sui’s eyes had already lost clarity. His pink tongue flicked out as he panted softly, his whole body flushed and warm. When Shang Jingyan’s fingers accidentally brushed against Chi Sui’s lips, they came away slick with sugary warmth. His Adam’s apple bobbed. The situation was driving him to the brink.

Chi Sui wasn’t fully matured. They weren’t married yet. And above all, Chi Sui didn’t like him. Shang Jingyan gritted his teeth, holding on to his fraying rationality. Then, Chi Sui’s tongue flicked out again, brushing lightly against Shang Jingyan’s fingertips.

Shang Jingyan felt the tension in his mind snap.

The process of brewing tea is intricate and time-consuming. Scalding water heats the teapot, and amidst moments of lingering intimacy, the tea leaves are carefully inspected, then gently placed into the pot. Boiling water is poured over them slowly, allowing them to unfurl and release their essence.

After a brief moment of warming, the pot is raised high, letting the water pour down in a graceful stream. The rushing water stirs the leaves, coaxing out their flavor. This is called the “high pour.” Once brewed, the tea is poured low and carefully into cups, ensuring its aroma remains intact—a method known as the “low pour.”

Repeated high and low pours, the tea’s fragrance lingers, refusing to dissipate. As the rich aroma fills the air, one observes its color, inhales its scent, and savors it in small sips. Ultimately, the leaves are consumed entirely, leaving only a body marked with crimson traces against a snowy canvas.

When Chi Sui finally woke, three days had passed. His throat was dry, and he found himself enveloped in a familiar embrace, being fed warm water. Whether it was the lingering effects of a temporary marking or something else, he felt inexplicably safe and reluctant to leave Shang Jingyan’s warmth.

But Chi Sui knew he couldn’t allow himself to grow attached to that warmth.

As an omega, he was biologically wired to develop reliance on an Alpha’s pheromones once marked, but the reverse wasn’t true.

He had grown up alone, stumbling through the years to achieve his hard-won independence. He maintained his inner peace by understanding that no one could be relied upon. Dependency was like poison—once tasted, it would become addictive. And Shang Jingyan had made it clear: marrying Chi Sui was about responsibility and protection, not affection.

Moreover, Chi Sui had heard the rumors. The General of the Shang family was cold and unfeeling, keeping troublesome omegas at arm’s length.

“I’m sorry,” Shang Jingyan said softly, apologizing to him. But Chi Sui didn’t think Shang Jingyan needed to apologize—he was being far too polite.

“It’s fine. I should be thanking you. You helped… solve my problem.” Chi Sui turned away, unwilling to meet Shang Jingyan’s gaze. Only after he heard the door close did he barely manage to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

Shang Jingyan didn’t blame himself for Chi Sui’s coldness, nor did he regret his actions. Frustrated, he spent half the day at the shooting range, but even that didn’t ease his irritation. When Shang Jingyan was in a foul mood, someone inevitably bore the brunt of it.

Meanwhile, Chi Yang’s household was in chaos. Chi An’an was scolded harshly by his father, accused of being impulsive and brainless. In truth, Chi Yang was lashing out from frustration. It wasn’t Chi An’an’s fault—they had tried to manipulate Chi Sui into favoring Shang Lin, even instructing Chi An’an to seduce Shang Lin as a backup plan.

But their schemes had failed spectacularly.

Shang Jingyan soon appeared in person, dressed in his military uniform and surrounded by armed soldiers. His cold presence filled the Chi family’s home with dread.

“An hour,” Shang Jingyan said, not even glancing up from the contract in his hand. “Pack your things and leave.”

As Chi Yang quivered with fear, Chi An’an sat down beside Shang Jingyan, attempting to beg, his pheromones subtly filling the air. But Shang Jingyan’s cold, piercing gaze silenced him.

“Anything belonging to my wife stays,” Shang Jingyan declared, signaling the end of their schemes with an authority no one dared challenge.