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Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The clinic was quiet that morning, filled with the soft hum of ceiling fans and the occasional rustle of pages as patients flipped through magazines in the waiting area. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and the jasmine incense Shuai always lit near the reception desk. It was his little ritual—a way to keep the atmosphere calm, warm, safe.

Jiang Shuai moved gracefully through the clinic, white coat crisp over his slim figure, glasses perched delicately on his nose. His patients adored him.

“Doctor Jiang, you really are a lifesaver,” an older woman gushed as he handed her a prescription.

Shuai smiled softly, bowing his head. Compliments never swayed him much, but he was grateful. “Just take your medicine on time, Auntie. That’s the real magic.”

Her daughter giggled, whispering to her mother about how handsome the doctor was, and Shuai’s ears turned pink. It wasn’t unusual. Every day, patients—men and women alike — asked the same teasing question: “Doctor Jiang, are you single?” He always deflected with a polite laugh, never giving them an answer.

His life was steady, his days predictable. Peaceful.

Except for one thing.

Wu Suowei. His best friend. His brother in everything but blood. Gone without a word.

Shuai had torn himself apart with worry the first few days, but deep down, he knew Suowei had done the right thing. He had needed to disappear. To escape. After all, no omega could withstand the storm that was Chi Cheng.

Shuai shivered at the thought of that name. He had hated that man from the first day Suowei introduced him. Alpha in every sense—tall, ruthless, dominating, with eyes that burned through everything they looked at. Shuai had never understood how his gentle best friend could endure someone so merciless, so controlling, so twisted.

So yes, Suowei’s disappearance was a blessing. Shuai believed he was safe, hidden somewhere far away. At least until Chi Cheng figured it out.

The thought made Shuai’s chest tighten, but he pushed it away. It wasn’t his problem. Not anymore.

Or so he thought.

The calm of his clinic shattered when the glass door slammed open, rattling on its hinges. The chatter in the waiting area cut off instantly. A heavy silence followed.

shuai froze mid-step, the file in his hand trembling slightly. His eyes darted up—and his heart dropped.

Chi Cheng.

He stood in the doorway like a storm made flesh, tall and broad in a dark suit, cigarette smoke curling around his face. His expression was sharp, dangerous, the kind that sent grown men running.

The patients exchanged nervous glances. A few got up, whispering hurried excuses as they slipped out the door. The rest followed, like prey fleeing from a predator.

Within moments, the once-bustling clinic was empty.

Shuai’s peaceful world was gone. Replaced by the oppressive weight of an alpha he despised.

Chi Cheng’s gaze locked onto him, sharp as a blade. His lips curled into a cold smirk as he stepped forward, the sound of his polished shoes echoing against the floor.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice low and mocking. “Doctor Jiang. We finally meet.”

Shuai’s grip tightened on the file until his knuckles whitened. He forced his voice to stay steady, though his stomach churned.

“Clinic’s closed. Get out.”

Chi Cheng’s eyes darkened with amusement—and warning.

“Not until you tell me,” he said, each word deliberate, heavy, dangerous. His presence loomed as he closed the distance between them, until Shuai could feel the heat of him, smell the smoke and expensive cologne clinging to his skin.

“Where is Wu Suowei?”

Shuai’s pulse thundered in his ears, but he refused to let the alpha see his fear. He straightened his back, shoulders squaring as he stood from behind the desk. The file in his hand trembled just slightly, but his chin lifted with quiet defiance.

Yet when he stood in front of Chi Cheng, the reality hit him. Even on his feet, his head barely reached the alpha’s collarbone. The sheer size difference was suffocating.

Still, Shuai glared up at him through the thin rims of his glasses, heat crawling up his neck. His face betrayed him, flushing under that piercing gaze, but his voice came out sharp.

“I don’t know where he is,” Shuai said, each word clipped, cold. “And you have no right to come here and disturb my workplace. I can file a complaint against you.”

For a moment, silence.

Then, a low sound. A dark chuckle that rolled from Chi Cheng’s chest like smoke. His eyes glinted with amusement as he leaned down, so close Shuai had to tilt his head back just to keep glaring at him.

“A complaint?” Chi Cheng repeated, his tone mocking, predatory. “You think anyone in this city would dare to touch me, doctor?” His lips curved into a smirk that promised danger. “Do it. File your complaint. I’d love to watch you try.”

Shuai’s throat tightened, but he didn’t back down. His glare only hardened, though his burning cheeks betrayed the storm inside him.

Chi Cheng’s chuckle deepened, low and threatening. His hand suddenly shot out, bracing against the desk beside Shuai’s hip, caging him in. The scent of smoke and whiskey clung to his breath as he leaned even closer.

“You’ve got guts for an omega,” he murmured, voice edged with both mockery and something darker. “But guts won’t save you. Tell me where Wu Suowei is… or I’ll tear this place apart until I find him.”

Shuai swallowed hard, forcing the words out even as his palms grew clammy.

“What do you want from him?” he demanded, his voice shaking but stubborn. “Leave him. You can have any omega you want—so why chase him?”

For a moment, Chi Cheng said nothing. Just studied him with those sharp, unreadable eyes. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips.

“That’s true,” he drawled, voice deep and lazy like smoke curling in the air. “I can have any omega I want.”

His gaze flicked over Shuai deliberately, hot enough to make his skin crawl. He stepped around the desk in a single stride, invading Shuai’s space, towering over him until Shuai had to tilt his chin back. Their difference in size was humiliatingly obvious—Shuai’s head barely reached his collarbone, his smaller frame pressed back against the edge of the desk.

Chi Cheng leaned down, his shadow swallowing Xuai whole. “But none of them…” his voice dropped to a growl, “…can handle my intensity.”

Shuai’s heart stuttered painfully, fear gripping his chest like a vice.

Then the alpha’s lips curved cruelly. He bent so close that Shuai could feel the faint brush of his breath against his cheek. His next words weren’t a question, but a threat dressed as one:

“Can you handle it?”

The room spun. Shuai’s throat went dry. His brain short-circuited under the sheer pressure of Chi Cheng’s presence, the heavy scent of alpha dominance that seemed to thicken the air itself.

He had heard the rumors. Everyone had. That Chi Cheng was merciless in bed, that once he set his eyes on someone, he wouldn’t stop until he’d broken them, until they belonged to him body and soul.

Shuai’s lips parted, but no words came out. Fear crippled him, his chest rising and falling too fast. Finally, with trembling hands and a paling face, he managed to shake his head.

“No…” he whispered, voice small, almost pleading.

Chi Cheng chuckled low in his throat, the sound dark, triumphant, and far too dangerous.

His eyes gleamed with hunger and promise.

“ I always take what I want.”

For a moment, Chi Cheng didn’t speak. He just let his gaze rake over Shuai, slowly, deliberately — like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

The omega was no doubt beautiful. Too beautiful.

Fair skin that looked unbearably soft, almost begging to be touched. Cheeks that flushed too easily, a faint pink always rising whenever their eyes clashed. Those lips— pouty, pink, made to be bitten raw. Short brown hair that kept falling against his forehead, begging for a hand to push it back. And those eyes… large, almond-shaped, framed with lashes far too long for a man. Innocence that didn’t belong in Chi Cheng’s world.

Almost ethereal. Almost untouched by sin itself.

But Chi Cheng was no saint. He was the devil’s pawn, and he knew it. And standing this close to Shuai, watching that innocence tremble before him, all he could think about was how sweet it would be to corrupt it. To break it. To make the stubborn doctor understand that no matter how fiercely he glared, omegas like him were born to bend.

His tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips as his voice dropped into a deeper octave, rich with mockery and threat.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue, smirking when Xuai’s breath caught. “It looks like you’ll collapse before you even take it.”

Shuai’s chest rose too fast, too shallow, panic flaring in those wide doe eyes. His lips parted soundlessly, and his blush deepened into a furious crimson. He shook his head violently, trying to gather his voice but failing under the weight of Chi Cheng’s presence.

Chi Cheng leaned just an inch closer, so close his shadow devoured the trembling doctor whole. The alpha’s smirk widened, dark and merciless, as he murmured—

“And yet… I can’t stop wondering how you’d look when you cry for me.”

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The moment the glass door slammed shut behind him, Shuai nearly collapsed back into his chair. His hands shook as he dragged in a breath, chest tight like the bastard had stolen all the air out of the room with him.

For a second, Shuai pressed a palm against his sternum, but the frantic pounding beneath his ribs wouldn’t slow. With trembling fingers, he reached for his stethoscope, slipping the buds into his ears, pressing the cold metal against his chest.

His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, wild, unsteady. Almost painful.

“Damn it…” Shuai groaned, tearing the stethoscope away and running a hand through his hair. “That bastard.”

Chi Cheng’s voice replayed in his head, low and merciless, every word dripping with threat.

If Wu Suowei doesn’t come to me… I’ll take you instead.

Shuai clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. He cursed again under his breath. He wanted to dismiss it as an empty threat, just another scare tactic. But deep down, he knew Chi Cheng wasn’t a man who said things idly. He was the kind who took. The kind who broke.

The kind who followed through.

And Shuai…

Shuai had just painted a target on his own back.

---

The underground club was alive with chaos. Smoke curled in the air, heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. Neon lights flashed over the crowd—some tangled in messy kisses against the walls, others brawling bare-knuckled on the floor while bets were shouted from every direction.

At the center of it all was the pit, where two snakes coiled and snapped at each other under the spotlight. The crowd roared with every strike, money exchanging hands as bets poured in.

Chi Cheng sat above it all in the VIP lounge, sprawled back against black leather, glass of whiskey in hand. His entourage of fellow alphas and betas laughed loudly around him, tossing bills onto the table, shouting odds on the fight below.

But Chi Cheng was quieter tonight. His glass swirled lazily in his hand as his eyes fixed on nothing. The shouting, the music, the hissing snakes—none of it reached him.

Because his mind was stuck in that clinic.

On the stubborn omega doctor who had dared to glare at him—despite trembling under his shadow.

Jiang Shuai.

Chi Cheng could still see the pink flush on his cheeks, the way his glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, the way his lips parted when fear made him stumble for words. The man was small, fragile-looking compared to him—yet he’d stood his ground, spitting fire even as his hands shook.

That defiance. That trembling courage. That was what hooked Chi Cheng the most.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip as his smirk curved, sharp and hungry.

“It’d be fun to break him,” Chi Cheng murmured, almost to himself, though one of his companions heard and glanced up in surprise.

The alpha’s gaze darkened, heat pooling in his chest as he imagined it—Shuai’s wide doe eyes spilling tears, his proud voice cracking into pleas, his small hands pulling him closer not pushing, his plumpy lips moaning his name, his body finally giving in under his hands.

Yes. It would be more than fun.

It would be intoxicating.

Chi Cheng lifted the glass to his lips, the burn of whiskey sharp down his throat. His smirk widened as the snakes below hissed and struck at each other, fighting until one submitted.

The alpha leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee, his eyes glinting like the predator he was.

“Let’s see how long you can resist me, Doctor Jiang,” he muttered, almost amused. “I’ll enjoy every second it takes to ruin you.”

The pit erupted in cheers as one snake finally collapsed, hissing weakly while the other coiled victoriously. Money exchanged hands, laughter roared, and bottles of champagne popped open.

“Chi Cheng,” one of his friends drawled, nudging him with a grin. “Enough sitting there brooding. We found you something better than staring at those snakes.”

Chi Cheng lifted his gaze lazily.

They brought forward an omega—delicate, small, trembling under the heavy attention of the alphas in the lounge. His skin was fair, his lips glossy, his wide eyes darting nervously from one man to the other. Fragile. Beautiful in the way most omegas were.

The crowd of friends whistled and jeered. “Look at him, perfect little thing, huh? Exactly your type.”

Chi Cheng smirked faintly, though his chest was still tight with the memory of a certain doctor’s glare.

Still, he rose, towering over the trembling omega. The small man flinched when Chi Cheng’s hand curled around his wrist, dragging him easily across the room. His friends howled with laughter and cheers, slapping the table, already knowing what would happen next.

The omega stumbled behind him, wide-eyed, too frightened to resist as Chi Cheng pulled him through the lounge and into one of the private rooms in the back. The heavy door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the noise of the crowd.

The omega looked up at him with a mixture of fear and desperate submission, his lips parting to speak, to plead.

But Chi Cheng wasn’t listening.

Because even as he caged the trembling boy against the wall, his mind betrayed him.

It wasn’t this fragile, nameless omega he saw.

It was Jiang Shuai.

The way his face burned crimson under pressure. The stubborn clench of his jaw. The wide, defiant eyes that still trembled but never lowered.

Chi Cheng’s smirk faltered. His grip tightened. Heat curled through him, sharp and consuming, but it wasn’t for the body trembling before him.

It was for the doctor who dared to defy him.

Chi Cheng cursed under his breath, low and rough. No matter who he touched, no matter how many omegas were thrown at him—it wasn’t enough.

Only Jiang Shuai would be.

The alpha’s smirk was sharp, but his eyes were cold. He didn’t whisper promises, didn’t comfort. He didn’t need to. Omegas like this didn’t resist him. They couldn’t.

And this one didn’t. The moment Chi Cheng’s hands gripped his hips, the omega’s knees buckled, his soft whimper lost in the press of rough lips against his throat.

The crowd outside cheered faintly through the walls, lost in it's own world.

Chi Cheng’s movements were merciless, practiced, his body moving out of habit rather than hunger. Each groan that left his chest was hollow, detached, as if he were somewhere else entirely. Because he was.

He wasn’t looking at the fragile beauty in front of him.

He was seeing Jiang Shuai.

Those infuriating doe eyes that glared at him even while trembling. The way his blush spread down his throat. The stubborn little doctor who dared to spit fire at a man like him.

No matter how tight, how soft, how submissive this trembling omega was, it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t him.

The omega cried out weakly, his body trembling under the overwhelming intensity. His breaths turned shallow, uneven, his eyes rolling back as Chi Cheng’s ruthless pace showed no mercy.

Then, suddenly—silence.

The omega went limp.

Chi Cheng stilled, cursing under his breath as the boy fainted in his arms, unable to endure the brutal rhythm. His chest heaved, sweat dampening his shirt collar, but there was no satisfaction. No release of the tension burning in his veins.

He pulled away with a frustrated snarl, shoving the unconscious omega onto the silk-covered couch like discarded clothing. Running a hand through his hair, he reached for his cigarette case, lighting one with a sharp flick. Smoke filled his lungs, but the fire in his blood didn’t fade.

His friends would cheer, slap his back, and assume he’d had his fun. But they were wrong.

Chi Cheng took a slow drag of smoke, his lips curling into a humorless smirk.

“It’s useless,” he muttered to himself, his mind already drifting back to that clinic, to that defiant omega doctor who haunted him.

Only Jiang Shuai would ease his hunger.

And Chi Cheng intended to make sure he would.

---

The night was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of cicadas outside the small house that stood beside the clinic. Jiang Shuai, ever disciplined, had turned in early—just as he always did. By ten o’clock, the lights were out, the white sheets neatly tucked around his slight frame, and the comforting rhythm of his own breathing lulling him into sleep.

But peace never lasted long for him.

Hands—rough, uninvited—slid over his body in the darkness of his dream. Hot, filthy whispers brushed against his ear, voices of faceless alphas mocking, taunting, their tones dripping with cruelty.

“Don’t resist… Be a good boy.”

His chest tightened, breath catching painfully. He furrowed his brows, trying to push them away, but the hands only grew heavier, pinning him, forcing him down. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, every beat laced with terror.

“Stop!” he cried out, his voice breaking, tears spilling down his temples as his body trembled. And then—

The room returned.

Jiang Shuai sat upright, gasping, chest heaving as if he had been drowning. The shadows of his quiet bedroom loomed around him, still and harmless. His trembling fingers clutched at the sheets as tears streamed freely down his pale cheeks.

Only then did he realize—just a dream. Nothing more.

But the weight of it clung to him, pressing like invisible chains. With a shuddering sob, Jiang Shuai curled into himself, burying his face in the pillow. His scent—soft jasmine laced with a faint hint of peach—spread thickly into the air, betraying the vulnerability he tried so desperately to hide.

Alone in the dark, he cried silently, his small frame trembling as the remnants of phantom hands still lingered on his skin.

---

The room reeked of his pheromones, but Chi Cheng lay sprawled across the silk sheets with a scowl cut deep into his face, but now, in the silence of his suite, all he felt was a gnawing void. He lit a cigarette, dragging smoke into his lungs, eyes narrowed at the ceiling.

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

The trembling body in his arms, the lips that whimpered against him—it did nothing to satisfy him. His mind, against his own will, returned to the image of another omega. That small doctor, Jiang Shuai. The one who glared even as his hands shook. The one whose voice cracked but never bent. Chi Cheng cursed under his breath, rolling onto his side with frustration, yet finding no comfort.

Miles away, in the little house beside his clinic, Jiang Shuai curled into the corner of his bed like a wounded child. His sheets clung damp to his body as he trembled, heart pounding from the nightmare still echoing in his mind. He could still hear them—the phantom whispers of alphas mocking him, filthy words slithering over his skin, hands pinning him down in the dark. His own scream had startled him awake, leaving his throat raw, his chest tight.

Tears slipped down his cheeks unchecked as he pressed his face into his pillow, his body trembling, his scent of jasmine and peach spilling heavy into the empty room. He hated how alone it felt. How desperately, against his better judgment, he wished there were arms—safe arms—to hold him, someone to tell him he was not weak, not worthless.

But there was no one.

So while Chi Cheng lay restless and unsatisfied in a bed too large, haunted by the thought of a small, stubborn doctor—Jiang Shuai wept quietly in the dark, his own body shivering under the weight of memories and fears he could not shake.

And neither of them found sleep that night.

---

The next morning, Jiang Shuai pressed his fingers against his temple, a dull throb pulsing in his head from the night before. Sleep had been broken, fragmented by shadows of nightmares, leaving him weak and exhausted. Still, his white coat was buttoned neatly, his hair combed, and a faint smile painted on his lips as he moved from one patient to another.

“Thank you, Doctor Jiang,” a frail old woman said, holding his hand with trembling gratitude. Jiang Shuai returned the gesture with a quiet nod, his heart warming despite the ache inside his chest. It was these moments that kept him steady—this sense of being useful, of healing. He immersed himself so deeply into his work that the clinic felt like a sanctuary, each patient drawing him further from the ghosts of last night.

But the sanctuary did not last.

The glass doors of the clinic swung open with a harsh push, letting in a rush of cold air and something heavier—an aura that made the nurses pause and the patients turn. Chi Cheng stepped inside, broad shoulders filling the doorway, his sharp eyes scanning the room like a predator restless for prey. His expression was unreadable, but the storm in his gaze was undeniable.

He had not slept well. Even the trembling omega he’d taken to bed last night hadn’t been enough to silence the gnawing hunger in his chest. The release had left him unsatisfied, detached, his mind returning again and again to the stubborn doctor who dared to glare at him despite trembling like a leaf. Jiang Shuai. That name, that face—he couldn’t shake it off.

Now, here he was, standing in the clinic, searching.

Jiang Shuai finally looked up, his body freezing the moment those eyes found him. The blood drained from his face, though he quickly masked it with a polite calmness. But inside, his heart stuttered.

Chi Cheng smirked faintly, his restlessness sharpening into something dangerous as he strode forward, ignoring the patients, ignoring the nurses who tried to intervene. His boots clicked against the tiled floor with unhurried menace until he stopped in front of Jiang Shuai’s desk, casting a long shadow over the small frame.

“You look busy,” Chi Cheng drawled, voice low and rough from sleeplessness. His eyes narrowed. “Did you miss me, Doctor?”

Jiang Shuai finally lifted his gaze from the patient file, his lashes lowered in faint irritation. His head throbbed from the restless night, but he masked it with his usual calm.

“Really?” he said flatly, rolling his eyes. “We literally met yesterday, and you dare to threaten me? You must have severe attachment issues, Mr. Chi Cheng.”

Chi Cheng chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, leaning lazily against the doctor’s desk as though he owned the space. His restless dark eyes lingered on Jiang Shuai’s composed face. He bent slightly closer, his voice a teasing whisper, “Then treat me, doctor.”

Jiang Shuai’s lips curved, not into a smile but into something sharper. “I can’t,” he replied coolly. “But I can give you the number of a psychiatrist who would be more than happy to.”

The insult landed, and Chi Cheng’s scoff broke the fragile silence of the office. His jaw tightened, though the glint in his eyes revealed something else beneath the offense—challenge, obsession, hunger.

Jiang Shuai, however, was already scribbling notes into a chart, dismissing him with professional indifference, as though the storm of a man before him was nothing more than an inconvenient gust of wind.

Chi Cheng’s eyes narrowed, the lazy amusement on his face hardening as he straightened slightly from the desk.

“You’re saying that I’m mentally unstable?” His voice was calm, but the dangerous edge in it cut through the air like a blade.

Jiang Shuai didn’t flinch. Instead, he chuckled under his breath, the sound soft yet laced with mockery. He finally raised his eyes, locking them on Chi Cheng’s.

“Oh—did I mean to say that? No.” His lips curved, sharp as glass. “Did I say this? Yes.”

He leaned back in his chair, deliberately relaxed.

“You’re mentally sick in the head, Chi Cheng.”

The words landed with precision, a clean strike to ego and pride. The storm in Chi Cheng’s chest roared louder, restless from the sleepless night, now boiling at being dismissed and diagnosed like some hopeless case. His jaw flexed, knuckles tightening against the edge of the desk.

And yet, beneath the fury, his eyes only darkened with that same dangerous pull—like a predator more intrigued the more his prey resisted.

Chi Cheng’s patience finally snapped, his tone sharp and cold.

“I don’t want to deal with you, Jiang Shuai. Just tell me where Wu Suowei is.”

The doctor tilted his head, lips quirking in that infuriatingly calm smile as he stacked a few patient files neatly.

“I don’t know,” he said smoothly, eyes flicking up to meet Chi Cheng’s with deliberate boldness. “And if I did know…” His voice lowered, calm but cutting. “I wouldn’t tell you.”

For a moment, the silence between them was heavy, thick enough to choke on. Chi Cheng’s jaw clenched, his hands twitching as if itching to grab him, shake the truth out of him—or maybe just to shut him up. His chest heaved once, rage and something else clawing inside.

Jiang Shuai didn’t flinch. His face was maddeningly composed, as if daring Chi Cheng to lose control.

Chi Cheng’s hands shot out, rough fingers curling around Jiang Shuai’s throat as he slammed him against the wall. The sound of the impact echoed through the office, rattling even the glass on the desk. His octave voice rumbled low, dangerous and sharp.

“Don’t test my patience. I don’t have time to come here every damn day asking about Wu Suowei.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath hitched, his slender hands clawing at Chi Cheng’s wrist, trying to pry free. His face flushed from the pressure, yet his eyes—sharp, unyielding—locked onto the Alpha’s with stubborn defiance.

The nurses rushed forward, panicked.

“Mr. Chi, please! Let him go!” they pleaded, tugging at his arm, their voices trembling.

But Jiang Shuai didn’t beg. He didn’t cry. Even with his airway constricted, even with the force of Chi Cheng’s strength pressing him mercilessly into the cold wall, he glared—eyes burning like fire, as if daring Chi Cheng to squeeze tighter, to see just how far he was willing to go.

That silent defiance cut deeper than words, and for the first time, it wasn’t clear who was truly in control—the furious Alpha or the unyielding doctor.

Chi Cheng’s grip tightened once more, his knuckles whitening as Jiang Shuai’s breath came in ragged gasps. The nurses’ desperate cries blurred into background noise. All Chi Cheng could see was those unwavering eyes glaring back at him, refusing to yield.

Something inside him faltered.

Jiang Shuai wasn’t pleading. He wasn’t trembling like others did under his hand. Instead, he looked at Chi Cheng as though daring him to cross that final line. And for the first time, Chi Cheng felt the edge of his own control slip.

His jaw clenched. His chest heaved. He wanted to break him—wanted to hear the snap of surrender. But the longer he held him there, the more his own anger tangled with something else: frustration, unease… a gnawing recognition that this omega wouldn’t shatter for him.

With a low growl, Chi Cheng shoved him back against the wall one last time before his fingers uncurled from Shuai’s throat. He stepped back, eyes still blazing but hand twitching as though it took everything in him to release.

Jiang Shuai coughed, dragging air back into his lungs, yet he didn’t lower his gaze. His voice, hoarse but steady, cut through the heavy silence.

“See? You can crush my throat, Chi Cheng… but you’ll never make me talk.”

That defiance seared deeper than any resistance he’d faced before. For the first time, Chi Cheng wasn’t sure who had truly lost control.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

 Outside the clinic, Chi Cheng lit a cigarette with trembling hands, the flame flickering angrily before he inhaled a long drag. Smoke curled from his lips in harsh bursts, carrying the taste of frustration down his throat.

He leaned against his car, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed at nothing in particular. But in his mind, there was only one image—Jiang Shuai’s glare.

That omega should have been broken beneath his grip. He should have been trembling, begging, the way every other did when faced with Chi Cheng’s wrath. Instead, he had stood there, choking and breathless, yet still staring him down as if daring him to squeeze tighter.

Chi Cheng exhaled sharply, smoke escaping like a growl. His lips curled into a humorless smirk.

“Tch. Acting brave… hiding that fear in your chest.”

But the more he told himself that, the more it unsettled him. No one looked at him that way. No one defied him and walked away with their pride intact.

He dragged another inhale, the smoke biting his lungs, then flicked the ash to the ground with sharp impatience. His mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last.

He wouldn’t let Jiang Shuai’s composure stand.

He wouldn’t allow those brown eyes to glare at him without consequence.

If he couldn’t break the doctor with threats, he would tear him apart in other ways—piece by piece, until that stubborn pride lay shattered at his feet.

Chi Cheng’s smirk deepened as he crushed the cigarette beneath his heel, the plan forming in the storm of his thoughts.

“Let’s see how long you can hold that fire, little omega.”

With that, he slid into his car, engine roaring as he sped off, already plotting the next move in this dangerous game.

When Chi Cheng left, Guo Cheng Yu had already made his move inside the hospital.

Unlike Chi Cheng’s sharp, threatening aura, Guo Cheng Yu carried himself with a lazy, confident smirk. His tall frame leaned against the nurse’s counter as he watched Jiang Shuai adjust his glasses with calm indifference.

“Doctor Jiang,” Guo Cheng Yu drawled, his tone light and playful, “you’ve got guts. Not many dare to look Chi Cheng in the eye, let alone glare at him like that. I almost fell in love just watching.”

The nurses giggled nervously, clearly more relaxed around Guo Cheng Yu than Chi Cheng. Jiang Shuai, however, didn’t even blink.

“Then you should get your eyes checked,” he replied dryly, scribbling something on a patient’s chart. “Falling in love so easily sounds like a medical condition.”

Guo Cheng Yu chuckled, utterly unfazed by the rejection. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only Jiang Shuai could hear.

“Then maybe you should treat me, Doctor. I promise I’ll be a very obedient patient—unlike a certain someone who just stormed out.”

Jiang Shuai’s pen froze for a second, his mind instantly flashing to Chi Cheng’s hands around his throat, the cold fury in his voice. His heart tightened—but he didn’t let it show. He glanced up at Guo Cheng Yu, eyes sharp.

“I don’t treat troublemakers,” he said firmly.

Guo Cheng Yu only smirked wider. “Then I’ll just have to keep showing up until you change your mind. Who knows… maybe you’ll find me less of a headache than Chi Cheng.”

---

The next afternoon, Jiang Shuai was making his rounds when a familiar tall shadow fell across the corridor.

“Doctor Jiang,” Guo Cheng Yu’s voice lilted, smooth and teasing, “I think you missed my check-up appointment.”

Jiang Shuai glanced up from the chart in his hands, brows knitting. “You’re not even my patient.”

Guo Cheng Yu smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets as he leaned lazily against the wall. “Not yet. But if you insist, I can start developing symptoms right now.” He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. “For example, a sudden, overwhelming attraction to a certain stubborn little doctor. Very dangerous, don’t you think?”

The nurses nearby exchanged amused glances, while Jiang Shuai gave him a flat stare.

“You should see a psychiatrist. I hear they’re good with delusions.”

Instead of taking offense, Guo Cheng Yu laughed, a deep, warm sound that made a couple of interns blush. “Cold words, but your eyes… they’re alive when you argue with me. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Jiang Shuai’s lips parted slightly, but he quickly snapped his chart shut, refusing to dignify the statement. He turned on his heel to leave, but Guo Cheng Yu followed effortlessly, matching his pace.

“Don’t run away, Doctor Jiang. I’m much more persistent than Chi Cheng, but less… violent,” he said the last word with deliberate weight, gauging Shuai’s reaction.

For the first time, Jiang Shuai hesitated mid-step. His throat tightened, the memory of Chi Cheng’s iron grip against his neck flashing like a phantom ache. Guo Cheng Yu caught it immediately—the flicker in Shuai’s eyes—and his smile softened.

“See? You didn’t even deny it.” His tone was lighter now, but tinged with something protective. “Chi Cheng may want to break you, but me? I’d rather see you smile.”

Jiang Shuai’s pulse quickened at the unexpected sincerity, but he quickly masked it with sarcasm. “You should focus on your own health instead of mine.”

Guo Cheng Yu leaned closer, his breath warm near Shuai’s ear.

“I am. That’s why I keep coming back to you.”

Before Jiang Shuai could retort, a nurse approached, asking for his attention. Shuai seized the chance, excusing himself and walking briskly down the hall. But as he disappeared around the corner, Guo Cheng Yu chuckled under his breath, eyes glinting.

“Stubborn little doctor,” he murmured. “Let’s see how long you can resist me.”

---

The park was quiet that afternoon, touched by the soft gold of late sunlight. Families strolled along the stone paths, children’s laughter echoed near the swings, and the faint scent of blooming lilacs drifted on the breeze.

Jiang Shuai sat alone on a wooden bench tucked beside the garden, a medical text open on his lap. His eyes skimmed the lines, though every now and then he glanced up—watching children chase each other, a mother soothing her baby, an old man feeding pigeons. Ordinary things. Warm things. Things he had never truly allowed himself to dream about but always found himself lingering near.

For once, he felt the faint ache in his head dull, his heart steadying. He drew in a breath of the clean air, letting it settle against the lingering shadows of last night’s dream.

And then—

the air shifted.

The sharp musk of an alpha cut through the garden, heavy, familiar. His back stiffened before the shadow even fell across his page.

“Well, well,” a deep, lazy voice broke the peace, “Doctor Jiang, I didn’t take you for the type to spend weekends watching brats run around.”

Shuai’s fingers tightened on the book. He didn’t look up right away, though the mocking timbre of Chi Cheng’s voice made his jaw lock. Finally, with visible restraint, he lifted his gaze.

There he was. Tall, broad, dressed in black that looked almost out of place among the soft colors of the park. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, unlit for once, but the smirk curving his lips was sharper than any smoke.

“What do you want, Chi Cheng?” Shuai asked flatly. His voice was calm, but his heart was not. It beat too fast, betraying the fragile illusion of peace he had tried to build for himself here.

Chi Cheng sank down on the bench beside him without asking, spreading out like he owned the place. The sheer weight of his presence made the space feel smaller, his knee brushing the edge of Shuai’s.

“What if I said I wanted to enjoy the view?” Chi Cheng drawled, his dark eyes cutting sideways, not at the children, not at the flowers, but at him. “Though, you make a much better one than the park.”

Shuai snapped his book shut, glaring now. “This is a public place. Stop following me.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Chi Cheng’s chest, sending a ripple of unease through Shuai’s spine. “Following you? Don’t flatter yourself. You just happen to be where I end up.”

Shuai scoffed, standing abruptly, but Chi Cheng’s hand shot out, closing around his wrist with just enough force to remind him of last time. His voice dropped, low and dangerous.

“You think you can glare at me forever, Jiang Shuai? One day, you’ll break. And I’ll be the one there when you do.”

For a moment, the sounds of the park dimmed—the laughter, the birds, everything—until all Shuai could hear was the hammering of his own pulse. He yanked his hand free, fury and fear clashing in his chest.

“Keep dreaming,” he bit out, and walked away quickly, clutching his book like a shield.

Chi Cheng leaned back on the bench, watching his retreating figure. That defiant little spine, that stubborn head held high even when trembling. He lit his cigarette finally, the smoke curling around his smirk.

“That’s fine, doctor,” he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing. “The more you resist, the sweeter it’ll be when you shatter.”

Jiang Shuai stormed out of the park, his grip tight on his book, his expression thunderous. His mind replayed every mocking word, every invasive look Chi Cheng had thrown at him, and his chest burned with a mix of fury and unease.

So preoccupied, he didn’t see the tall figure stepping into his path until he collided into a firm chest.

Strong hands caught his shoulders, steadying him before he stumbled back. “Whoa—careful there, little doctor,” a smooth, teasing voice said.

Jiang Shuai’s eyes snapped up, meeting the easy grin of Guo Cheng Yu. His stomach sank. “Oh, perfect,” he muttered bitterly, pulling himself free from the alpha’s grasp. “Now what do you want?!”

Guo Cheng Yu chuckled, unbothered by the glare aimed at him. He leaned down slightly, his tone deliberately light. “What, can’t a man enjoy the rare occasion of fate bringing him into the arms of a beautiful omega?”

Jiang Shuai scoffed, shoving his book tighter against his chest. “Beautiful omega? Save your cheap lines for someone who cares. I’m not interested.”

“Not interested,” Guo repeated, as though tasting the words. His grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Good thing I don’t give up easily.”

Jiang Shuai rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but Guo fell into step beside him, hands casually shoved into his pockets. His height matched Chi Cheng’s, his stride long and confident, but where Chi Cheng’s presence pressed down like a suffocating weight, Guo’s was smooth, playful—still infuriating, but in a completely different way.

“You’re wasting your time,” Shuai said tightly.

“Or,” Guo countered easily, tilting his head as he studied the smaller man, “I’m investing it wisely. You just don’t know it yet.”

Jiang Shuai stopped in his tracks, his patience fraying. He turned on him, eyes flashing. “You alphas are all the same—arrogant, pushy, thinking omegas exist for your entertainment. I don’t want you. Not you, not Chi Cheng, not anyone. Get that through your thick skulls.”

For a moment, Guo Cheng Yu’s grin softened into something subtler, something almost unreadable. He studied the flushed, furious omega in front of him and smirked again, though quieter this time.

“Not the same, doctor,” he murmured, leaning just close enough for Shuai to catch the low timbre of his voice. “If I were like Chi Cheng, you’d already be pinned to a wall. But I prefer a chase.”

Shuai stiffened, his lips parting with a retort he never spoke. The alpha’s words slipped under his skin, irritating yet oddly different from the suffocating threat Chi Cheng carried.

With a frustrated exhale, Shuai spun on his heel and stalked away, determined not to look back.

Guo Cheng Yu watched him go, his smile slow, deliberate. “He’s cute when he’s angry,” he muttered to himself before following at a leisurely pace, unhurried—like a predator who knew his prey couldn’t truly escape.

---

The clinic was busy, the waiting room filled with patients murmuring quietly as nurses moved swiftly between them. Chi Cheng sat sprawled arrogantly on the edge of Jiang Shuai’s desk, a cigarette dangling between his fingers despite the No Smoking sign.

“Move,” Shuai snapped, swatting at the cigarette smoke. “You’re suffocating the air for everyone.”

Chi Cheng smirked, leaning back lazily. “You’re the only one choking, doctor. Maybe it’s me you can’t handle.”

Jiang Shuai opened his mouth to retort, but the glass doors suddenly banged open. Gasps rippled through the clinic. Guo Cheng Yu stepped inside, tall and commanding as always—but this time his shirt was darkened with blood along his side, one hand pressed casually against the wound as if it were nothing.

Shuai’s eyes widened, his irritation with Chi Cheng evaporating. He pushed past the alpha on his desk, his voice tight. “Guo Cheng Yu—what happened to you?”

Guo gave a careless shrug, his grin still intact though his face was paler than usual. “Ah, don’t look so worried, little doctor. It’s nothing. I just came to see you.”

“Nothing?!” Shuai snapped, his heart pounding. He grabbed Guo’s wrist firmly, ignoring the smear of blood that touched his fingers. “You’re literally bleeding through your shirt. Are you stupid? Come with me, now.”

Without waiting for permission, Jiang Shuai tugged him toward the treatment room. Guo allowed himself to be dragged, chuckling softly, his eyes watching the smaller omega with something like fond amusement.

But Chi Cheng—Chi Cheng’s smirk vanished the moment Shuai’s hand touched Guo’s. His jaw clenched so tightly it could’ve cracked teeth, smoke curling angrily from the forgotten cigarette in his hand.

The sight of his doctor—the omega who had dared glare at him without flinching—fussing over another alpha, dragging him close, touching him with that urgency reserved only for the wounded—it ignited something dark and violent inside Chi Cheng.

His voice, low and edged with fury, cut through the clinic.

“Take your filthy hands off him, Shuai.”

But Shuai didn’t even look back. He pushed Guo down onto the clinic bed, already reaching for gloves and antiseptic. “Shut up, Chi Cheng. If you’re not injured, then get out of my way. Some people actually need my help.”

Guo hissed slightly as Shuai pressed against the wound, but his grin never faded. He tilted his head back, locking eyes with Chi Cheng across the room. A deliberate, taunting glint sparkled in his gaze.

“He’s good with his hands,” he drawled, voice thick with amusement. “I think I’ll make him my personal doctor.”

Shuai scoffed, smacking his shoulder lightly in annoyance. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Chi Cheng’s eyes darkened, his knuckles whitening around the cigarette he still held. Smoke curled like venom from his lips as he stood, his presence suddenly dangerous enough that the nurses froze mid-step.

The devil himself looked ready to strike.

---

The day had drained him. Jiang Shuai leaned back against the sofa, his damp hair falling into his eyes after the shower, the faint scent of jasmine soap clinging to his skin. The clinic was closed, Guo Cheng Yu had finally left after much resistance to rest, and all Jiang Shuai wanted was one night of peace.

A sudden knock at the door startled him. He frowned—it was too late for patients, and his neighbors never came unannounced.

He opened the door.

And froze.

Chi Cheng stood there, his tall frame filling the doorway like a shadow made flesh. His suit jacket was gone, his shirt undone at the collar, the faint stench of smoke and liquor clinging to him. But his eyes—sharp, stormy—were terrifyingly sober.

Before Shuai could speak, Chi Cheng shoved the door wider with one hand and stepped inside, brushing past him as though the home belonged to him.

“Wha—” Shuai’s voice cracked with shock and outrage. He slammed the door shut, spinning around. “You can’t just barge in here!”

Chi Cheng ignored him, pacing slowly into the small living space, his presence filling it, suffocating it. His gaze swept over the bookshelves, the teapot on the table, the faint scent of peach from the omega’s home. He inhaled deeply, like he was branding the scent into his lungs.

Then he turned. His voice was low, dangerous.

“You touched him.”

Shuai blinked, heart skipping. “What—?”

“Guo Cheng Yu.” Chi Cheng’s jaw tightened, his fists curling at his sides. “You touched him. Your hands on his blood, your eyes on his face, your voice soft with concern.” He took a step closer, each word grinding out like broken glass. “You ignored me. For him.”

Shuai’s pulse spiked with both fear and fury. “I’m a doctor! He was bleeding, what did you expect me to do, let him die?!”

“You looked at him,” Chi Cheng hissed, his body towering over Shuai now, pinning him with the force of his presence. “You’ve never looked at me like that.”

Shuai’s chest heaved as he backed up, his spine brushing against the wall. His voice trembled but his words were sharp. “Because you disgust me, Chi Cheng. Every time you come near me, I feel like I can’t breathe.”

For a moment, silence. Only the faint ticking of the wall clock filled the room.

Then Chi Cheng chuckled darkly, though there was no humor in it. He braced one hand against the wall beside Shuai’s head, leaning in close, his breath hot with smoke and anger.

“Then breathe me in, doctor,” he whispered, his voice an octave lower. “Because whether you want it or not… you’re mine to break. Not Guo Cheng Yu’s.”

Shuai swallowed hard, his nails digging into his palms as he tried not to tremble. He hated himself for the way his body reacted—heat crawling up his neck, his chest tightening—not from desire, but from the oppressive weight of the alpha before him.

“Get out,” he managed to rasp, his defiance flickering like a candle against a storm. “Or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Chi Cheng cut in smoothly, tilting his head, his lips dangerously close to Shuai’s ear. “Call for help? Cry? You didn’t cry even when I had my hand on your throat, little omega. Do you think you scare me with empty threats?”

His words cut short when he heard the distinct click of the lock. Shuai’s blood ran cold.

Chi Cheng’s eyes gleamed with a darkness that sent a shiver crawling down his spine. In three strides, the alpha had him caged against the wall, one hand braced above his head, the other reaching into his pocket.

“You treat all your patients with love, hm?” Chi Cheng murmured, his breath thick with smoke and liquor, curling against Shuai’s cheek. “Soft eyes, gentle hands… even for Guo Cheng Yu.”

Shuai’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, forcing himself to glare even as his palms dampened with sweat. “I—I treat everyone equally. That’s my job. Now move—”

But his words died in his throat when Chi Cheng drew something from his pocket.

A knife. Its sharp edge glinted under the dim light of the room.

Shuai’s breath stuttered, his body instinctively jerking back against the wall though there was nowhere to go. His voice cracked, trembling despite his best efforts. “W-what are you doing? I swear—you can’t threaten me in my own home!”

Chi Cheng chuckled low, the sound vibrating with danger. He tilted the blade idly, running the flat edge down the wall near Shuai’s ear—not touching him, but close enough that Shuai shivered violently.

“Threaten you?” Chi Cheng leaned closer, inhaling deeply, the peach-and-jasmine scent of the omega flooding his senses. His voice dropped, dark and possessive. “No, little doctor. You’re far too precious to be killed.”

Shuai froze, his heart hammering so hard he could barely breathe.

Chi Cheng’s lips curved into a cruel smile as he dragged the knife down the wall until it stopped just under Shuai’s chin, the cold steel grazing the tender skin of his throat. The omega flinched, his wide doe eyes filling with panic.

“I don’t want to end you,” Chi Cheng whispered, his gaze burning into Shuai’s terrified face. “I want to make you suffer. Slowly. Until every breath you take, every smile you give, every soft touch of your hand… belongs only to me.”

His words slithered into Shuai’s chest like poison, leaving him trembling—caught between fury, fear, and the suffocating pull of the alpha’s intensity.

Jiang Shuai’s breath hitched, his back pressed against the cold wall as the sharp edge of the knife brushed dangerously close to his lips. His heart raced, panic clawing up his throat as he stammered, “Y-you’re insane! I’m not—”

Chi Cheng leaned closer, his breath hot against Jiang Shuai’s skin, his eyes dark and unyielding. “Kiss me,” he repeated, his tone low and commanding, as though the demand itself was law.

Jiang Shuai’s trembling hands pressed against Chi Cheng’s chest, desperate to push him back, but the alpha’s strength caged him in effortlessly. “You can’t force—”

The blade pressed firmer, grazing the curve of his lower lip, making Jiang Shuai freeze. His lips parted in shock, a small gasp slipping out.

Chi Cheng smirked, his gaze locked hungrily on that tiny crack of vulnerability. “That’s better… open for me, pretty omega.” His voice was a dangerous purr.

Jiang Shuai’s eyes burned with fear and fury. “Y-you bastard… this isn’t a kiss, it’s torture.”

Chi Cheng’s smirk deepened, his eyes flicking down once more to those trembling lips. “Good. Then let it hurt.”

And with that, he tilted Jiang Shuai’s chin up with the flat of the knife, bending closer until their lips hovered a breath apart—forcing the omega to feel the suffocating weight of his intent.

Jiang Shuai’s entire body trembled, his breath hitching sharply as the sting of the blade split his soft lower lip. Warm blood welled instantly, sliding over the curve of his mouth. He let out a strangled yelp, eyes wide with shock and terror.

Chi Cheng froze for only a heartbeat, and then his pupils dilated—fixated on that drop of crimson staining the omega’s plump mouth. His own chest rose and fell heavier, hunger twisting with something darker inside him.

“...fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the smirk fading into something far more feral. His jaw clenched as though he were fighting himself, but his hand only pressed harder against Jiang Shuai’s hip, caging him in tighter.

The sight of blood against that peach-soft skin, that trembling mouth, drove him half-mad. “You look…” his voice was rough, guttural, “...like you’re begging to be ruined, doctor.”

Jiang Shuai shook his head furiously, panic shining in his eyes. “Y-you’re sick! Get away from me!” His words were muffled, his lip throbbing from the cut, but the sight only seemed to unravel Chi Cheng more.

Slowly, deliberately, the alpha leaned in until his lips hovered a breath away from the injured ones, the knife still at Jiang Shuai’s mouth as if daring him to resist. His tongue darted out to wet his own lips, his eyes flicking between the bead of blood and the omega’s trembling expression.

“I should taste it…” he whispered darkly, almost to himself, voice husky with desire and menace. “See what your fear and pain really taste like.”

Chi Cheng’s tongue dragged slowly across Jiang Shuai’s cut lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood mixed with the omega’s natural sweetness. The doctor flinched violently, a muffled whimper escaping him as his cheeks flushed crimson, shame and fear burning hotter than the sting of the wound. He wriggled desperately against the alpha’s unyielding grip, palms pushing at his chest but getting nowhere.

A deep growl rumbled from Chi Cheng’s throat, vibrating against Jiang Shuai’s lips. His eyes darkened, predatory and crazed, as though he’d just confirmed something dangerous to himself. He tightened his hold, his fingers digging into Jiang Shuai’s hip possessively, the knife grazing ever so slightly along the omega’s jaw.

“Even your blood tastes sweet,” Chi Cheng rasped, his voice low and rough like gravel. His hot breath fanned against Jiang Shuai’s lips, sending another shiver down the smaller man’s spine. “You think you can defy me, doctor? You think you can glare at me with those pretty eyes and walk away?”

Jiang Shuai’s chest heaved, panic rising in waves. “S-stop it… you’re insane!” he spat, though his voice trembled. His defiance was still there, but his body betrayed his fear—his trembling, his flushed face, the way his lips quivered under the alpha’s hold.

Chi Cheng smirked, feral and twisted, pressing his forehead against Jiang Shuai’s as if branding him with his presence. “Insane?” he whispered darkly, licking the corner of the omega’s lip again, savoring it. “Maybe. But you’ll learn soon enough—you’re mine to break.”

Chi Cheng’s question hung in the air, low and mocking—

“Will you treat me?”

Jiang Shuai frowned in confusion, his brows knitting. Treat him? The alpha wasn’t hurt, not a single scratch on his body. He opened his mouth to retort when the metallic scrape of a blade cut through the silence.

Before Jiang Shuai could even process, Chi Cheng gripped the knife tighter—then, without hesitation, drove it into his own forearm.

The sharp sound of metal sinking into flesh echoed in the small apartment.

Jiang Shuai’s eyes widened in horror, his breath catching. “W-what are you—?!”

Blood welled instantly, sliding down Chi Cheng’s arm in dark rivulets, dripping onto the floor between them. But the alpha didn’t flinch. His face twisted, not in pain, but in a dark, almost euphoric satisfaction. His eyes burned as they locked onto Jiang Shuai’s trembling form.

Jiang Shuai’s hands shook violently as he stumbled forward. “Stop—stop it!” His voice cracked, panicked, raw. He had treated so many patients, endured all kinds of wounds, but this—this deliberate self-destruction—made his chest constrict with dread.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he grabbed at the alpha’s injured arm, his fingers clumsy with urgency. “You’re insane!” he choked out, yanking the knife free with shaky hands and throwing it aside, the clatter against the floor loud and jarring.

The blood gushed faster. Jiang Shuai’s heart hammered as he pressed his palms against the wound, trying to stem the flow. His tears blurred his vision, falling onto Chi Cheng’s skin as he muttered desperately, “Why would you do this? Why?!”

Chi Cheng’s lips curved, that dangerous smirk never wavering even as crimson dripped from him. He leaned down, his voice a low growl that brushed Jiang Shuai’s ear.

“Because now… you have no choice but to treat me, doctor.”

Jiang Shuai’s heart was racing so hard it hurt. His trembling hands pressed gauze against Chi Cheng’s bleeding arm, blood soaking through faster than he could replace it. He dragged the alpha to his couch, forcing him down despite his own terror, then scrambled for his first aid kit.

His knees hit the floor as he knelt in front of Chi Cheng, his hands clumsy as he opened the box. The smell of blood was sharp, overwhelming. He couldn’t stop the tears slipping down his cheeks. They fell soundlessly, mingling with the drops of crimson he was so desperately trying to clean.

Chi Cheng watched him with those dark, unreadable eyes. Then, slowly, he lifted his uninjured hand, the pad of his thumb brushing across Jiang Shuai’s cheek, wiping away a tear.

“Good,” Chi Cheng murmured, his voice like velvet over steel. “You’ll cry only for me.”

Jiang Shuai froze at the touch, his chest tightening. He wanted to scream, to shove the alpha away, but instead he just sniffed sharply and pressed harder against the wound, whispering through clenched teeth, “Y-you are a monster. I hate you.”

Chi Cheng’s lips curved into a low, amused chuckle. His gaze never left the omega’s delicate face, the way his lashes clung wet with tears, the small tremors in his body, the stubbornness still burning in his eyes despite his fear.

“I am,” Chi Cheng admitted shamelessly, leaning back into the couch with his injured arm resting in Jiang Shuai’s care. His voice dipped lower, huskier, the smirk tugging at his lips. “But I’ve never wanted to kiss someone this badly, little doctor.”

The words made Jiang Shuai’s hands falter, his chest tightening with dread, but he forced himself to continue, bandaging with urgency. His tears wouldn’t stop, his lips pressed into a trembling line, as if pretending he hadn’t heard.

But Chi Cheng’s heavy stare lingered, making it impossible to ignore.

The image of Jiang Shuai’s flushed lips—still stained with the faint trace of blood he’d drawn earlier—burned into his mind until it was unbearable. The alpha rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek, fighting against the storm that threatened to consume him, but the more he looked at the trembling doctor kneeling before him, the faster his composure crumbled.

With a guttural growl, Chi Cheng’s hand shot forward, burying itself in the omega’s soft, damp hair. Jiang Shuai gasped, his wide doe-eyes snapping up in panic, but before he could move, before he could even breathe, the alpha’s mouth crushed against his.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was a devouring.

Jiang Shuai let out a muffled sound of protest, his hands pressing weakly against Chi Cheng’s chest, but the alpha only deepened the contact, his lips dragging against the omega’s in a hunger that bordered on madness. He tasted salt—tears—and copper—the trace of blood—and something else entirely, something intoxicating that made his pulse thunder with need.

With a swift, possessive pull, Chi Cheng yanked Jiang Shuai up from his knees, forcing the smaller man onto his lap. The omega landed with a startled cry, straddling the alpha’s thighs, and Chi Cheng immediately caged him there, his uninjured arm wrapped firmly around that slender waist.

Jiang Shuai trembled, his body rigid, his lips caught and ravaged by the relentless force of Chi Cheng’s mouth. He tried to turn away, but the alpha growled against his lips, biting down just enough to still him, to remind him there was no escape. His free hand, still slick with blood from the self-inflicted wound, gripped tighter at Jiang Shuai’s waist, staining the omega’s shirt with red as though marking him.

Chi Cheng pulled back only for a fraction of a second, his forehead pressing against Jiang Shuai’s, their breaths colliding—one ragged with fear, the other heavy with lust.

“Sweet,” Chi Cheng murmured hoarsely, his lips brushing the omega’s swollen ones again. “ Your blood tastes too sweet.”

Jiang Shuai’s chest heaved, tears glistening on his lashes, his voice breaking as he whispered, “Y-you’re… a monster.”

Chi Cheng’s lips curved into a dangerous, wicked smirk. He dragged his thumb along the omega’s trembling mouth, smearing the blood and spit.

“I told you, doctor,” he rasped, dark eyes drinking in the sight of the fragile beauty trembling in his lap. “I’ll make you cry, I’ll make you hate me… but I’ll be the only one you’ll ever remember.”

Then, without mercy, he claimed his lips again—greedy, relentless, like a man finally tasting the forbidden fruit he’d been denied for far too long.

“You can hate me all you want,” he murmured, his voice low, gravelly. “But I’ll make sure the only lips you’ll ever remember… are mine.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath came in short, trembling gasps, each one catching in his throat as though the air itself betrayed him. His tears streamed freely now, glittering trails that Chi Cheng devoured with his gaze, his dark eyes alight with a wicked satisfaction.

The fearless spark that had always burned in Jiang Shuai’s wide, brown eyes was dimmed, clouded with terror—and Chi Cheng reveled in it. Finally, those stubborn, unyielding tears were his.

“Treat my wound, doctor,” Chi Cheng rumbled, his voice dropping into a husky octave that vibrated against Jiang Shuai’s chest.

The omega stiffened, snapping out of his daze as if ripped from a nightmare. His own hands, delicate and trembling, came into focus—stained with crimson. The sight made his stomach twist. Panic surged through him, instinct overriding fear as he scrambled for his medical kit, still perched unwillingly on Chi Cheng’s lap.

Chi Cheng made no move to release him. His heavy arm held Jiang Shuai firmly around the waist, pinning him in place while he watched, eyes glinting with predatory fascination, as the omega’s slender fingers worked feverishly over his bleeding forearm.

“Y-you’re reckless,” Jiang Shuai whispered shakily, his voice breaking as he threaded the needle. His tears hadn’t stopped; they fell silently onto Chi Cheng’s skin as he stitched the wound with careful, practiced motions. “Why… why would you do something like this to yourself?”

Chi Cheng smirked, the corner of his bloodied lips curling. He tilted his head, studying the doctor as though memorizing every fragile expression, every tremor.

“Because,” he murmured low, his hot breath brushing Jiang Shuai’s temple, “I wanted to feel your hands on me. To see you kneeling, crying… mine.”

Jiang Shuai’s chest heaved, his hands faltering for the briefest moment before continuing their work. The omega bit his lip, determined not to let another sob escape, but his tears betrayed him. Each drop slid down his cheek, catching the dim light, and Chi Cheng’s thumb rose lazily to smear them away, leaving streaks on his pale skin.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Chi Cheng muttered, his voice thick with hunger and something darker. His gaze lingered on the omega’s wet lashes, his pink mouth trembling, the softness of his body trapped against his own. “So damn beautiful… fragile, but still fighting.”

Jiang Shuai didn’t answer. His focus stayed on the wound, stitching faster, desperate for it to be over, for this closeness to end. But he couldn’t stop the way his body shook under the alpha’s scrutiny, nor the way his scent—sweet jasmine laced with peach—spilled heavier into the air with every shaky exhale.

Chi Cheng inhaled deeply, possessively, savoring it. The doctor didn’t even realize that, in his frantic attempt to save the alpha from his own madness, he was unknowingly binding himself tighter into Chi Cheng’s grip.

Jiang Shuai tied off the last stitch with trembling fingers, exhaling shakily as though his lungs had been starved of air this whole time. His lashes were still wet, cheeks flushed and streaked with salt. He set the needle and gauze aside, his hands hesitating for a moment before finally pushing weakly against Chi Cheng’s chest.

“There… it’s done,” he whispered, his voice raw, brittle. “Now let me go.”

He shifted, trying to slide off the alpha’s lap, but Chi Cheng’s arm around his waist tightened instantly, a steel band pulling him flush against the broad chest he so desperately wanted to escape.

Jiang Shuai gasped softly, his palms pressing against hard muscle as he looked up, wide eyes searching for even a crack of mercy in Chi Cheng’s face. But what he found instead was a storm—hungry, restless, and far too intent.

“You stitched me up,” Chi Cheng said lowly, his lips grazing the shell of Jiang Shuai’s ear as he spoke. “But you’re not finished yet.”

Jiang Shuai’s heart lurched painfully in his chest. He squirmed again, tugging against the iron grip. “I—I’ve done what you asked. You don’t need me anymore. Let me go.” His voice cracked on the last word, half-plea, half-command.

Chi Cheng only chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his chest and into Jiang Shuai’s trembling frame. He tilted his head, brushing his nose against the curve of the omega’s damp cheek, inhaling the soft peach-and-jasmine scent that clung heavier now with fear.

“Little doctor…” His tone was mocking, indulgent, but laced with something far more dangerous. “You think patching up a wound is all it takes? No.” His hand flexed against Jiang Shuai’s hip, holding him tighter in place. “You owe me more than this.”

Jiang Shuai froze, his stomach twisting, a shiver running down his spine. “Owe you?” he echoed, voice shaking.

Chi Cheng leaned back just enough to meet those wide, terrified eyes, his own gaze dark and burning. A cruel smirk curved on his lips, swollen still from the kiss he’d stolen moments ago.

“Yes,” he murmured, dragging his thumb slowly along Jiang Shuai’s bottom lip, still stained faintly with blood. “You owe me the rest… because once I start something—” he paused, eyes dropping hungrily to that trembling mouth, “—I always finish it.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath hitched sharply as Chi Cheng’s thumb dragged across his swollen bottom lip, smearing the faint trace of blood and spit like an artist marking his canvas. The omega froze, his pulse slamming against his ribs, every instinct screaming to run—but the alpha’s grip was unyielding, his body a cage of steel and heat.

Before Jiang Shuai could summon the words to protest, Chi Cheng closed the distance again, crashing his mouth against his with merciless hunger. This time, there was no hesitation, no pause for resistance—just raw, consuming force.

The kiss was deep, suffocating, a clash of dominance against fragile defiance. Jiang Shuai whimpered into the alpha’s mouth, twisting in his lap, but Chi Cheng’s hand fisted tighter into his hair, angling his head exactly where he wanted, his tongue sliding past parted lips to taste him fully.

The faint sting of iron still lingered, but beneath it was something sweeter—frustrated gasps, salt from tears, the raw purity of someone untainted by the filth of his world. It drove Chi Cheng wild.

His uninjured hand splayed across Jiang Shuai’s lower back, dragging him forward until the omega was flush against him, thighs pressing against Chi Cheng’s hardened erection. Jiang Shuai squirmed, desperate to escape, but the movement only fueled the fire in the alpha’s veins.

“Stop… ngh—stop it!” Jiang Shuai’s muffled plea broke between their lips, but Chi Cheng swallowed the words greedily, growling into his mouth.

“Never,” he hissed, breaking the kiss only to trail hot, wet kisses down the omega’s jaw, his tongue flicking against the salt of his tears. “Do you hear me, doctor? You think I’ll stop when you beg? No… you’ll only make me want more.”

Jiang Shuai trembled violently, his fingers digging helplessly into Chi Cheng’s shoulders as the alpha’s mouth burned a path down to the curve of his throat. He gasped sharply when teeth grazed his skin, the sound torn between fear and something he didn’t dare name.

Chi Cheng inhaled deeply, groaning as he buried his face in the crook of Jiang Shuai’s neck, drunk on the omega’s peach-and-jasmine scent. “God, you smell like sin,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, vibrating against tender skin. “Sweet… fragile… untouched. You were made to be ruined by me.”

Jiang Shuai’s tears fell harder, his body quaking against the iron grip that held him captive. But no matter how hard he pushed, Chi Cheng’s hold didn’t falter—in fact, it only grew tighter, more possessive, as though with every second he branded the smaller man as his.

Chi Cheng laid him down on the  couch, his towering frame pressing close, the omega caged beneath him with no room to escape. His rough palms squeezed over Jiang Shuai’s trembling hips, fingers spreading over the curve of his ass as a dangerous smirk cut across his blood-stained lips.

“Such a fat ass,” Chi Cheng rasped against his mouth, voice dripping with wicked amusement. “Damn… you were made to be mine.”

Jiang Shuai’s chest heaved as his back arched against the couch, his hands pushing weakly at Chi Cheng’s chest, but the alpha’s strength was immovable, like steel. The scent of blood, smoke, and raw dominance filled his senses until he felt dizzy. His lips quivered against the bruising kiss, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

Fear coiled in his stomach like ice, but his body betrayed him—heat crawled up his neck, his knees weak and unsteady beneath Chi Cheng’s weight. He was a doctor, a healer, a man who had faced death in the battlefield hospitals without flinching—yet here, under this predator, Jiang Shuai’s resolve cracked like glass.

Chi Cheng’s dark eyes gleamed, devouring every flicker of terror, every tremble. He leaned lower, his lips brushing Jiang Shuai’s ear as he growled low, almost feral, “Struggle more, little omega… it only makes me want to ruin you.

Jiang Shuai squeezed his eyes shut, his nails digging into Chi Cheng’s shouler, his mind screaming at him to resist, but his body—soft, fragile, and bound by instincts—refused to listen. He was trapped, utterly at the mercy of the most dangerous alpha he had ever met.

Jiang Shuai’s body went slack, his lashes damp as the tears clung stubbornly to his pale cheeks. He didn’t even realize when the trembling had stopped, when his fists that had been weakly pushing against Chi Cheng’s chest loosened and fell limply to his sides. His mind had been screaming, fighting to hold onto some shred of control, but in the predator’s arms, the dam finally broke. His past—every memory of fear, of helplessness, of being treated as nothing more than an omega bound to instincts—rushed forward and swallowed him whole.

His blurred vision caught only fleeting fragments of Chi Cheng’s face above him before his eyes fluttered closed. A broken whimper escaped his lips as his chest heaved, then softened, giving way to exhaustion, fear, and something deeper he dared not name.

Chi Cheng froze for a fraction of a second, the weight of the limp omega in his arms shifting the air around him. His smirk faltered, replaced by something darker, heavier. He looked down at Jiang Shuai, taking in the fragile figure curled against him—the wet lashes, the flushed cheeks streaked with tears, the small trembling breaths.

A growl built low in Chi Cheng’s throat, but it wasn’t the same hunger that had consumed him moments ago. It was possession. Rage. A twisted cocktail of triumph and something far more dangerous that clawed at his chest.

He tightened his grip around Jiang Shuai’s waist, lifting him closer until the omega’s face pressed against his neck. “You think you can faint and escape me?” he muttered, his voice harsh but low, almost as if spoken only to himself. His thumb brushed unconsciously over the omega’s damp cheek, tracing the track of a tear. “No, little doctor… you’re mine, whether your eyes are open or not.”

The scent of Jiang Shuai’s fear and fragility filled his lungs like the sweetest intoxication. For the first time, the predator of all predators held his prey not with the intent to destroy immediately, but to cage.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The morning sunlight filtered weakly through Jiang Shuai’s curtains, brushing against his damp lashes. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as his body stirred awake, but the weight pressing on his mind was heavier than any dream could have left. For a moment, he clung to the fragile hope that everything had been nothing more than a nightmare. That the dangerous Alpha hadn’t really come, that there had been no blood, no knife, no searing kiss.

But when his eyes fully opened, the truth carved itself into him like a fresh wound.

The couch was spotless. The floorboards gleamed as though no crimson had ever stained them. The faint metallic tang that had filled the room was gone, replaced by the clean smell of polished wood. Chi Cheng had erased every trace of what had happened last night… except the memory seared into Jiang Shuai’s mind.

He pressed a trembling hand to his lips, still remembering the harsh press of Chi Cheng’s mouth, the taste of iron mixed with something far more dangerous—an Alpha’s claim. His stomach knotted, and his knees went weak as the events replayed like broken shards of glass piercing his thoughts.

Jiang Shuai pushed himself off the bed, his hands shaking as he dressed hurriedly, almost desperately, as though putting on his clinic’s white coat would shield him from last night’s truth. He grabbed his medical bag and stumbled toward the door, his pulse racing.

“I won’t come back… I can’t,” he whispered to himself, his voice breaking. If he stayed away—if he drowned himself in work, in patients, in anything—perhaps he could pretend none of this had happened. Perhaps Chi Cheng would forget him. Perhaps predators lost interest once the chase was over.

But deep down, a sick fear twisted in his chest. Because if Chi Cheng had cleaned the blood, if he had left without a word… it only meant one thing.

He intended to come back.

And Jiang Shuai knew that no matter how far he ran into the sterile halls of his clinic, no matter how late he worked into the night to avoid returning home, Chi Cheng would find him again.

---

Jiang Shuai jolted upright, his pen clattering from his hand as his bleary eyes met Guo Cheng Yu’s sharp gaze. For the briefest second, relief flickered in his chest—at least it wasn’t him. But the relief quickly soured under the weight of Cheng Yu’s look, because that smile that usually felt teasing, light, even infuriating, was now gone. In its place was something darker, sharper, more controlled.

Cheng Yu’s eyes lingered on his lips, and Jiang Shuai instinctively raised a hand, brushing his fingers against the faint sting. The bruise throbbed, reminding him of both the knife’s bite and the Alpha’s brutal kiss. His heart skipped, fear rising.

“You…” Jiang Shuai swallowed, voice cracking slightly. “W-what are you doing here?”

Cheng Yu stepped closer, his smile curling back into place though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What are you doing here, doctor? Hmm? Not planning to go home tonight?”

The omega’s gaze darted away, guilt and panic tangling inside him. He forced a shaky laugh, the sound too thin to be convincing. “Uhm… I—My house is… in construction. I’ll be staying here for a while.”

Cheng Yu tilted his head, studying him with unnerving intensity, like a predator circling prey that was already cornered. “Construction, hmm?” he repeated slowly, almost mockingly. “Interesting. I didn’t hear about that.”

Jiang Shuai’s fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. “Y-you don’t need to hear about it. It’s my home. My business.”

Cheng Yu leaned down just enough to invade his space, eyes locked onto Jiang Shuai’s trembling form. His voice softened into a dangerous purr. “Then tell me, doctor… who marked you? Because I know that bruise isn’t from construction.”

Jiang Shuai froze, his blood turning cold, his heart hammering so violently he thought Cheng Yu would hear it. He wanted to lie, to come up with some excuse, but his lips refused to move.

Cheng Yu’s hand reached out, tilting Jiang Shuai’s chin up with his thumb, brushing dangerously close to the bruise. “You smell like fear. And someone else’s claim. Tell me the truth… who touched what’s mine?”

Jiang Shuai’s pulse stumbled at the weight of Guo Cheng Yu’s words. He had heard a thousand shameless things from this Alpha before—flirtations draped in humor, teasing words meant to fluster—but tonight it wasn’t the same. There was no jest in Cheng Yu’s eyes, only steady determination that made the little clinic feel far too small.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Jiang Shuai said firmly, rising from his chair as if the height difference would help him stand his ground. His lips trembled despite the steel in his voice, the bruise at the corner stinging when he spoke.

Cheng Yu didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Instead, he leaned against the desk with casual ease, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Then belong to yourself. But come to my home.”

Jiang Shuai’s head snapped toward him, disbelief painted clear across his face. “Are you serious? No, I’m not going. How can you trust someone so easily? You barely know me.” His voice was sharp, defensive, but there was an undertone of panic he hated himself for.

Cheng Yu’s lips curved into a soft chuckle, low and warm. “Because I do know you. I’ve watched you, doctor. You’re not someone who deceives. You heal, you endure, you fight even when you’re trembling inside.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. “That’s why I trust you.”

Jiang Shuai’s throat tightened. He looked away, unable to hold that intense gaze. “Still… I’m not going with you,” he murmured, stubborn even as unease coiled in his stomach.

A long silence stretched, broken only when Cheng Yu’s answer came with quiet finality. “Fine. Then I’ll stay with you here.”

Jiang Shuai blinked, startled, eyes narrowing at the Alpha in suspicion. “Why?”

Cheng Yu’s smile widened, soft but unwavering. “Because you think you don’t need protection. But I want to give it. I can’t leave my omega here alone.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath caught—his face flushing a deep crimson. He opened his mouth to argue, to deny, but the words lodged in his throat. He hated how the term “my omega” sent a tremor through his chest. He hated even more that, this time, he didn’t correct him.

And so, in the quiet, Jiang Shuai looked away, biting his lip to keep the warmth from spilling onto his face. For once, he didn’t complain.

The clinic was quiet, the faint ticking of the clock echoing through the dimly lit room. Jiang Shuai glanced at the Alpha slouched awkwardly in the chair, clearly too broad, too tall for the cramped space. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before muttering,

“I have a hospital bed. You can sleep there.”

Cheng Yu didn’t move, only raised a brow, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. His long legs stretched lazily, but he didn’t look the least bit inclined to follow.

Irritated, Jiang Shuai strode over and grabbed his wrist, tugging. “Come on.”

The Alpha allowed himself to be dragged, amused by the smaller man’s strength—or rather, his lack of it. Still, he followed until they reached the bed.

“It’s only one bed,” Cheng Yu said, his tone light but his eyes darkening ever so slightly.

Jiang Shuai rolled his eyes, cheeks warming. “So what? It’s enough for you. I don’t need it.”

A scoff left Cheng Yu’s throat as he tilted his head down toward him, grin widening. “So you’re admitting you’re small and pocket-sized. Fitting anywhere, hm?”

Heat shot up Jiang Shuai’s neck, his ears burning crimson. “Y-you—!” He smacked Cheng Yu’s arm, flustered, before turning his face away. “Sleep. Or else—”

But before he could finish, Cheng Yu caught his wrist and, with one smooth pull, brought the Omega tumbling down onto the bed with him.

“Wha—!” Jiang Shuai’s breath hitched as his back met the sheets, and suddenly he was pressed against the Alpha’s chest, their legs tangled. His heart hammered wildly as he wriggled, trying to push away, but Cheng Yu only tightened his hold slightly, his chin brushing the crown of Jiang Shuai’s soft hair.

“Better,” Cheng Yu murmured, voice low and warm, a teasing lilt hidden beneath.

Jiang Shuai’s face was aflame, his lips parting soundlessly as he tried to summon his usual sharp retort. But nothing came. All he could hear was the steady thrum of the Alpha’s heartbeat beneath his ear—far too steady compared to the frantic pace of his own.

He stilled, embarrassed, heat burning across his cheeks. He hated how small he felt in Cheng Yu’s arms, and yet… there was no fear.

Only a shameful comfort he dared not admit.

The hospital bed wasn’t made for two, yet somehow their bodies found a way to fit. Jiang Shuai’s back pressed awkwardly against the cold bed while Cheng Yu sprawled with infuriating ease, one arm caging him without effort.

Jiang Shuai huffed, shifting uncomfortably, but every movement only brought him closer to the Alpha’s warmth. He could feel it—heat radiating from Cheng Yu’s broad chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint trace of his scent that made the air heavier than it already was.

“Stop fidgeting, doctor,” Cheng Yu murmured, his voice like velvet, low and coaxing. “You’ll tire yourself out.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” Jiang Shuai snapped, though his cheeks burned at how close their faces were. He turned his head away, but the Alpha’s soft chuckle vibrated through his chest, betraying him.

For a long while, silence stretched between them. Only the sound of the ticking clock and Jiang Shuai’s uneven breathing filled the room. His fists, clenched against the sheets, slowly loosened. He told himself he was simply exhausted, that he just needed rest. But his body betrayed him. Inch by inch, without realizing, he shifted closer.

His head ended up pillowed against Cheng Yu’s shoulder, his small frame curling slightly against the Alpha’s side.

Cheng Yu stilled. His teasing smirk faded into something softer, his eyes lowering to the fragile Omega nestled so tentatively against him. The man who had glared at him, pushed him away, stood defiant even when trembling—was now seeking warmth, however unconsciously.

Amazement flickered in Cheng Yu’s gaze. He had expected resistance, sharp words, maybe even another shove. Not this. Not Jiang Shuai’s soft hair brushing his chin, not the warmth of his body leaning into him as if, for once, he trusted.

Cheng Yu’s hand twitched, aching to hold him tighter. But he restrained himself, letting the doctor move at his own pace.

Jiang Shuai murmured something unintelligible in his half-drowsy state, his breath fanning lightly against Cheng Yu’s neck. Then, to Cheng Yu’s silent astonishment, the small Omega shifted just a little closer, almost… cuddling him.

A smile tugged at Cheng Yu’s lips, genuine and unguarded this time. He tilted his head back against the pillow, his gaze lingering on the doctor’s peaceful face, the faint bruise on his lip, the long lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

So beautiful, Cheng Yu thought, chest tightening in a way he hadn’t expected. And he doesn’t even know it.

He didn’t sleep right away. Instead, he stayed awake, memorizing every detail of the young doctor who—despite all his walls—was finally resting in his arms.

---

Sunlight seeped faintly through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the white walls of the clinic room. Jiang Shuai stirred, brow furrowing as warmth pressed against his back. His pillow was unusually firm, and something heavy weighed across his waist.

He blinked his eyes open.

And froze.

The “pillow” beneath his cheek was none other than Cheng Yu’s chest, rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. The arm draped across his waist was large and heavy, holding him snugly against the Alpha as though they had slept this way for years.

Jiang Shuai’s eyes widened in horror. His entire body stiffened, the reality of the scene slamming into him like a punch. He—Jiang Shuai, respectable doctor, stubborn, independent, not needing anyone—was practically curled in the arms of an Alpha.

And worse, not just any Alpha.

Guo Cheng Yu.

Heat rushed to his face, his ears burning crimson. He wriggled carefully, desperate to extract himself, but the movement only made Cheng Yu’s arm tighten around him instinctively, pulling him even closer.

“Mn…” Cheng Yu’s deep voice rumbled as he stirred awake. His eyes cracked open, lazy with sleep, and immediately landed on the flushed Omega caught in his arms. A slow, mischievous smile curved his lips.

“Morning, doctor.” His voice was husky, dripping with amusement. “You’re warm.”

Jiang Shuai’s face burned hotter. “Y-you—! Let me go!” He pushed at Cheng Yu’s chest, but it was like trying to move a wall.

Instead, the Alpha only chuckled, his hand still resting on the smaller man’s waist. “Why so shy? You were the one clinging to me last night.”

“I was not!” Jiang Shuai snapped, though his voice cracked at the end. “I—I must’ve just been cold.”

“Cold, hm?” Cheng Yu tilted his head, his teasing eyes softening ever so slightly. “Then next time, I’ll bring an extra blanket. Or…” His smile deepened as he leaned closer, his breath tickling Jiang Shuai’s ear. “…you can just use me again.”

Jiang Shuai shoved him harder this time, finally wriggling free, stumbling to his feet with cheeks red as fire. “You—! You’re insufferable!” he spat, trying to compose himself, smoothing his rumpled shirt.

Cheng Yu stretched lazily on the narrow bed, his gaze never leaving the flustered Omega. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, eyes gleaming with amusement.

So stubborn, Cheng Yu thought as his smile softened. And yet… so easy to read.

Jiang Shuai turned away, heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself—but a small, shameful part of him had liked the warmth.

And that realization terrified him most of all.

Jiang Shuai slipped on his white coat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, determined to focus on work and forget the humiliating warmth of last night. He adjusted the files in his hands, keeping his head down when the clinic door opened.

“Morning, doctor,” Guo Cheng Yu’s familiar voice came, smoother than the fresh coffee he carried in one hand. In the other, a bag of steaming breakfast. He walked in as if he owned the place, his tall frame filling the room. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jiang Shuai said curtly, refusing to look at him. His hands flipped through charts too quickly, too deliberately.

Cheng Yu’s brow arched. “Don’t tell me…” he set the food down, his tone sharp with disbelief, “…you skip breakfast every day?”

“So what if I do?” Jiang Shuai muttered, shoulders tensing. “It’s not important. I don’t have time to eat.”

The next moment, his files were snatched clean out of his hands. “Hey—!”

Before he could protest, Cheng Yu had already tossed them onto the desk, grasping his wrist with firm fingers and dragging him toward the small sofa in the corner of the clinic. Jiang Shuai stumbled, his protests ignored as the Alpha sat him down with the kind of authority that made the Omega’s pulse spike.

“Eat.” Cheng Yu’s voice was low, commanding, leaving no room for argument. He opened the bag and began setting out the food, his sharp eyes flicking back to Jiang Shuai’s stubborn face. “I don’t care if you think you don’t have time. You’ll make time. Skipping meals isn’t an option.”

Jiang Shuai’s cheeks flushed with both irritation and embarrassment, his lips parting to fire back. But before he could, Cheng Yu leaned closer, his voice dropping into something softer—yet far more dangerous.

“And if you keep this up…” His gaze swept over the doctor’s frame, lingering shamelessly. “...you’ll lose all those curves.”

Jiang Shuai’s face turned scarlet. He jerked back, eyes wide. “W-what the hell is wrong with you?!” His voice cracked in indignation, his hands clenching at the edge of the sofa. “You’re so shameless! How dare you look at me with— with those eyes?!”

Cheng Yu smirked, utterly unbothered, his tall frame leaning lazily against the sofa arm as his eyes deliberately drank him in from head to toe. When he spoke, his voice was deep, velvety, almost reverent.

“You don’t know,” he murmured, lips curling, “how much I’ve looked at you with… such eyes.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath caught, his ears burning, his heart hammering against his ribs so loudly he swore Cheng Yu could hear it. He turned his head away in a flustered panic, clutching at his coat as if it could shield him from the Alpha’s piercing gaze.

But Cheng Yu didn’t press further. Instead, he set the food in front of him, his tone shifting back into something annoyingly tender, yet firm.

“Eat, Jiang Shuai,” he said quietly. “Or I’ll feed you myself.”

---

The cool silence of the medicine storeroom was broken only by the soft rustle of Jiang Shuai’s coat as he reached upward, fingertips grazing the edge of a glass bottle on the highest shelf. He stretched a little more, his brows furrowing in concentration. Just a little higher—

But before he could tip the bottle down, a shiver raced down his spine. The air shifted, a scent—sharp, dangerous, familiar—sank into his senses, and then a broad, solid chest pressed firmly against his back. His breath caught in his throat, the tiny vial slipping from his grip as it was plucked, effortlessly, by a much larger hand above his own.

Jiang Shuai froze. His body went rigid, his pulse hammering in his throat. The faint warmth of a calloused palm wrapped around his waist, caging him with an ease that made his skin crawl. He didn’t need to look back. His body already knew. His instincts screamed.

That voice—low, velvety, carrying an edge that made his stomach twist—brushed against his ear.

“Missed me, doctor?”

Jiang Shuai’s eyes widened, panic flashing like lightning in them. His lips parted but no words came out. Fear seeped into every vein, icy and suffocating. He had promised himself he would never hear that voice again. He had prayed it would remain buried in the shadows of his thoughts.

Chi Cheng.

The name alone was enough to make his knees weak. His grip on his coat tightened, his breaths shallow, as the hand on his waist tightened just a little—possessive, mocking, as if savoring the trembling of the young doctor’s frame.

The medicine vial clinked lightly as it was set back on the shelf, but Jiang Shuai didn’t dare move. He didn’t dare breathe too loudly.

The walls of the storeroom felt as though they were closing in, the dim light casting long, menacing shadows across the shelves. Jiang Shuai’s breath came shallow and uneven, his small hands tugging desperately at the iron-like grip around his waist. But Chi Cheng’s hold didn’t budge—it only grew firmer, pressing him deeper into the suffocating warmth of that broad chest.

A voice, low and dangerously smooth, brushed over the shell of his ear.

“You didn’t come home yesterday, doctor.” The words slithered into Jiang Shuai’s skin, cold and poisonous. “Why is that? Did you not want to see me? Did you know I’d come looking?”

Jiang Shuai’s fingers trembled as they pushed against the larger hand caging him. His nails dug in, but it was like trying to pry steel apart. A helpless whine escaped his throat—soft, frustrated, afraid. He twisted, but the alpha only tightened his grip, his lips curving into a smirk that Jiang Shuai couldn’t see but could feel in the malice radiating from him.

“Answer me, Shuai.” Chi Cheng’s voice dropped lower, sharp as a blade yet dripping with something dangerously possessive. “I won’t let you leave this room until you do.”

Jiang Shuai’s heart pounded so violently it hurt. The chill of fear mixed with something hotter—a forbidden shame at being held like this, at his helplessness. His throat felt dry as sand, words locked tight inside.

Then Chi Cheng’s tone shifted, darker, edged with suspicion that cut deep.

“Where the hell did you spend the night?” His breath brushed against Shuai’s skin, a shiver racking the smaller man’s frame. “And with whom?”

The question was a growl, heavy with an obsession that sent terror spiraling through Jiang Shuai’s chest. He stiffened further, shaking his head frantically.

No. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t risk Cheng Yu—couldn’t let this dangerous man find out who had been by his side. The thought of those ruthless eyes turning toward Cheng Yu’s warmth, Cheng Yu’s smile, filled him with dread that stole his voice.

“D-don’t…” Jiang Shuai’s voice broke as he finally forced sound past his lips, his body straining uselessly against the cage of arms. “Don’t ask me that… please.”

Chi Cheng’s smirk deepened, his grip unyielding, the predator savoring his prey’s fear.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The walls of the storeroom felt as though they were closing in, the dim light casting long, menacing shadows across the shelves. Jiang Shuai’s breath came shallow and uneven, his small hands tugging desperately at the iron-like grip around his waist. But Chi Cheng’s hold didn’t budge, it only grew firmer, pressing him deeper into the suffocating warmth of that broad chest.

A voice, low and dangerously smooth, brushed over the shell of his ear.

“You didn’t come home yesterday, doctor.” The words slithered into Jiang Shuai’s skin, cold and poisonous. “Why is that? Did you not want to see me? Did you know I’d come looking?”

Jiang Shuai’s fingers trembled as they pushed against the larger hand caging him. His nails dug in, but it was like trying to pry steel apart. A helpless whine escaped his throat—soft, frustrated, afraid. He twisted, but the alpha only tightened his grip, his lips curving into a smirk that Jiang Shuai couldn’t see but could feel in the malice radiating from him.

“Answer me, Shuai.” Chi Cheng’s voice dropped lower, sharp as a blade yet dripping with something dangerously possessive. “I won’t let you leave this room until you do.”

Jiang Shuai’s heart pounded so violently it hurt. The chill of fear mixed with something hotter—a forbidden shame at being held like this, at his helplessness. His throat felt dry as sand, words locked tight inside.

Then Chi Cheng’s tone shifted, darker, edged with suspicion that cut deep.

“Where the hell did you spend the night?” His breath brushed against Shuai’s skin, a shiver racking the smaller man’s frame. “And with whom?”

The question was a growl, heavy with an obsession that sent terror spiraling through Jiang Shuai’s chest. He stiffened further, shaking his head frantically.

No. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t risk Cheng Yu—couldn’t let this dangerous man find out who had been by his side. The thought of those ruthless eyes turning toward Cheng Yu’s warmth, Cheng Yu’s smile, filled him with dread that stole his voice.

“D-don’t…” Jiang Shuai’s voice broke as he finally forced sound past his lips, his body straining uselessly against the cage of arms. “Don’t ask me that… please.”

Chi Cheng’s smirk deepened, his grip unyielding, the predator savoring his prey’s fear.

The room shrank into silence—only the ragged sound of Jiang Shuai’s breath filled the air. Chi Cheng’s grip on his waist was ironclad, the broad palm cupping him shamelessly, dragging a startled gasp from the smaller man’s lips.

“Be quiet, doctor,” Chi Cheng murmured, his voice low and venomous, each word searing the shell of Shuai’s ear. His hot breath sent chills racing down Jiang Shuai’s spine. “Or else…” His smirk curved cruelly. “…your staff will get wrong ideas about what we’re doing in here.”

Jiang Shuai’s eyes widened in horror, heat burning his cheeks even as fear turned his stomach cold. He twisted sharply, gasping, “L-let me go—!”

But in the next instant, his world flipped.

Chi Cheng seized his wrist mid-motion, yanking it high above his head and slamming it back against the wooden shelf. The impact rattled the glass vials lined neatly behind him, a few trembling dangerously on the edge. Jiang Shuai winced, his pulse racing, his arm caught helplessly in the alpha’s powerful grip.

Pinned. Caged. Trapped.

His chest heaved against the suffocating wall of muscle pressing into him, the predator’s dark eyes drinking in every flicker of defiance in his trembling gaze.

“Stop struggling,” Chi Cheng growled, pressing closer until Jiang Shuai could feel the heat radiating off him, suffocating in its intensity. His free hand slid possessively over the curve of the omega’s ass, anchoring him in place as though he owned every trembling inch.

“Don’t test me, Shuai,” he whispered, voice edged with obsession, his mouth so close that Jiang Shuai could almost feel the shape of the words against his lips. “Tell me who kept you away last night… or I’ll make you regret your silence.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath hitched, his body trembling violently between rage and fear. His lips parted, but no sound came out—just the silent plea in his eyes, begging for this to end, begging not to betray Cheng Yu.

Jiang Shuai’s pulse roared in his ears, every nerve straining against the overwhelming cage of muscle and heat around him. His wrist ached where Chi Cheng held it pinned, high and useless against the shelf, and still the omega glared—eyes flashing through the fear.

Chi Cheng’s gaze dropped, smoldering, to the faint bruise marring those soft, swollen lips. His doing. His mark. A cruel satisfaction flickered across his face, but underneath it simmered something darker, something restless and hungry that refused to be named.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached up with his free hand and traced a calloused thumb over the bruise. Jiang Shuai flinched hard, turning his face away, but the alpha caught his chin and forced him back to meet his gaze.

“Tch… still bruised,” Chi Cheng murmured, his voice low, rough. “My bruise. Proof you belong to me whether you admit it or not.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath came in short, furious bursts. “I—I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all you—”

The words were cut short.

Chi Cheng’s patience, thin as smoke, snapped. He crushed his mouth against the omega’s, devouring him, his grip firm and merciless. The kiss was all-consuming—forceful, suffocating—yet beneath the aggression burned the raw edge of desperation.

Jiang Shuai gasped against him, eyes wide, body struggling as the alpha swallowed every sound. He tasted blood and salt, the lingering sting of last night’s wound, but Chi Cheng groaned low in his throat, as though even pain on those lips was something he had missed.

Missed.

The realization stung sharper than the kiss itself. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but the omega’s absence had gnawed at him, kept him restless, unsatisfied, empty. And now, with Jiang Shuai trembling beneath him, lips trembling and tears threatening to fall—Chi Cheng kissed harder, as though punishing him for daring to haunt his thoughts.

When he finally tore his mouth away, his forehead pressed against Jiang Shuai’s, his voice hoarse.

“Damn you, doctor…” he growled, thumb still brushing the swollen lips. “Why is it that only you taste like this? Why is it that only you drive me insane?”

Chi Cheng’s breath came ragged, hot against Jiang Shuai’s mouth, his chest rising and falling like a beast starved too long. The omega’s trembling only ignited something more feral inside him—fear, defiance, beauty, all tangled into one forbidden temptation he could no longer keep caged.

The alpha’s grip tightened, pinning Jiang Shuai harder against the shelf, wood biting into the small of his back. His body fit against the omega’s with brutal precision, every line of muscle trapping him, claiming him without permission.

“Struggle all you want,” Chi Cheng rasped, voice guttural, eyes blazing as they drank in every tear that slipped down Jiang Shuai’s face. “The more you fight me, the more I want you.”

Jiang Shuai’s wrist ached under his iron hold, but worse was the way his lips burned from the kiss—raw, swollen, and yet still carrying that phantom heat that refused to vanish. His chest heaved, panicked breaths filling the tiny space, and still he whispered hoarsely, “Y-you’re a monster… I hate you…”

A smirk ghosted across Chi Cheng’s blood-red lips. “Good. Hate me. But you’ll remember me every time you close those pretty eyes.”

He dove in again, crashing his mouth against Jiang Shuai’s with a violence that bordered on obsession. This time his free hand roamed downward, gripping the omega’s ass with bruising force, pulling him flush into his lap as if trying to mold their bodies into one.

Jiang Shuai whimpered, twisting, but Chi Cheng swallowed the sound with another punishing kiss, his tongue forcing its way past resistance, claiming every shudder, every broken breath. The taste of fear, tears, and that lingering metallic tang of blood drove him past the edge of reason.

The omega’s small body wriggled, but every movement only made Chi Cheng groan deeper, his restraint unraveling thread by thread. His hand, rough and unrelenting, slid over the curve of Jiang Shuai’s waist, gripping tighter, pulling him closer until there was no space left to breathe.

“Damn it, Shuai…” he growled between ragged kisses, forehead pressing hard to the omega’s as if to brand the moment into his skin. “You’re mine. Even if I have to carve it into your soul—you’re mine.”

Jiang Shuai’s tears spilled freely now, the hopelessness in his chest mingling with the terrifying heat crawling through his veins, betraying him with every tremble of his lips beneath Chi Cheng’s devouring mouth.

And Chi Cheng… Chi Cheng no longer cared if it was hate or fear or something else entirely fueling the tears. All that mattered was that they belonged to him.

Jiang Shuai’s palm collided against Chi Cheng’s cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the cramped storage room. For a heartbeat, silence reigned—Chi Cheng’s head slightly turned from the blow, his jaw flexing, his eyes narrowing to molten slits.

Then the predator in him surged forward.

In an instant, he had seized Jiang Shuai’s delicate wrist, twisting it behind his back until the omega arched forward with a strangled cry. The shelf rattled under the force of his body being pressed flush against it, every bone in him trembling.

Chi Cheng’s voice dropped to a dangerous octave, so low it slithered down Jiang Shuai’s spine like ice and fire combined.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, his breath scorching against the omega’s ear. “Don’t you ever slap me again.” His grip tightened, making Jiang Shuai whimper. “Because I won’t mind breaking those pretty little hands of yours…”

He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over the side of the omega’s tear-streaked face. “…Or maybe,” he growled, wickedness dripping from every syllable, “I’ll put them to better use.”

Before Jiang Shuai could process his words, Chi Cheng guided that fragile hand forward, pressing it hard against the front of his pants. The omega gasped audibly, eyes widening in horror, his entire body going rigid at the crude contact. His breath hitched, panic flooding his veins as he instinctively tried to yank his hand back—but Chi Cheng’s iron grip kept it caged right where it was.

“Feel that?” Chi Cheng smirked darkly, his chest vibrating with a guttural chuckle as Jiang Shuai shook in his hold. “That’s what you do to me, doctor. Your fear, your defiance—it drives me insane.”

Jiang Shuai stifled a cry, his face burning with humiliation as he wriggled helplessly in Chi Cheng’s lap, his fragile body dwarfed by the alpha’s overpowering frame. His tears fell faster now, each one only fueling Chi Cheng’s twisted satisfaction as he devoured the sight of the trembling omega pinned beneath his dominance.

“I–I’m telling the truth,” Jiang Shuai stammered, his voice a trembling whisper against the shelf. His wrist still ached from Chi Cheng’s grip, his breathing uneven. “I don’t know where Wu Suowei is. Just… leave me alone, please.”

The words fell between them like glass, but Chi Cheng didn’t so much as blink. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone, the faint tremor in his jaw the only sign of anything stirring beneath the surface. The dim light caught in his eyes, making them glint like a predator’s.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, deliberate—each syllable dragged out as though it weighed a thousand pounds.

“I don’t care about Wu Suowei…”

Jiang Shuai froze, his wide eyes flicking up to him in shock.

“…not anymore.”

The alpha’s grip on his wrist loosened, but only to slide his palm along the omega’s trembling arm, fingers wrapping around his chin and forcing him to meet his gaze. Chi Cheng leaned closer, his breath warm against Jiang Shuai’s lips, his scent heavy and dizzying.

“I don’t want him,” he said, his tone darkening into something possessive, almost feral. “I want you… doctor.”

Jiang Shuai’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. The words were not a confession—they were a claim, a warning, and a promise all at once. He could feel the intensity radiating off the alpha, the way Chi Cheng’s eyes devoured every flinch, every tear, every unsteady breath he took.

“Why?” Jiang Shuai whispered, his voice cracking. “Why me?”

Chi Cheng’s thumb brushed the bruise on his lower lip—the one he himself had caused. His mouth curled into a faint, hungry smirk.

“Because,” he murmured, almost reverently, “you make me lose control.”

The words hung between them, heavy and electric, and Jiang Shuai realised with a shiver that for the first time Chi Cheng wasn’t talking about Wu Suowei at all.

---

Jiang Shuai sat at his desk long after the last patient had left, his pen resting uselessly between his fingers. The papers in front of him blurred into meaningless lines. His mind wasn’t in the clinic at all—it was trapped in the memory of Chi Cheng’s voice, deep and rough, whispering words that refused to leave him.

I don’t want him. I want you… doctor.

He pressed a trembling hand against his lips, still tender from the alpha’s roughness, and shut his eyes tight. His heart thudded painfully, as if reminding him of the danger he had willingly walked into by letting Chi Cheng so close. He hated alphas—he had always kept them at arm’s length, had built walls higher than he could ever climb. But now, without his permission, two of the most dangerous men had slipped through the cracks.

Chi Cheng—the storm, dark and violent, who wanted to devour him whole.

Guo Cheng Yu—the flame, bright and teasing, whose smile warmed yet unsettled him, who never hid his pursuit.

They were rivals, two predators circling the same prey, and somehow that prey was him. Jiang Shuai. The quiet doctor who only wanted to heal, not to be entangled in the chaos of alphas.

He let out a shaky laugh that died quickly in the empty room, his chest tightening.

I didn’t want one alpha near me, and now I’ve got two of them fighting over me.

His eyes flickered to the closed blinds of the clinic window, the quiet night pressing in. A part of him wished he could disappear, hide from both of them. But another part—the part he hated the most—still remembered the way Chi Cheng’s gaze had burned, the way Cheng Yu’s hand had steadied him with such warmth.

Jiang Shuai buried his face in his hands, his voice barely a whisper.

“…what am I supposed to do?”

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The clinic was crowded that afternoon, the air heavy with the scent of disinfectant and too many alphas in one room. Jiang Shuai was exhausted but focused, his usual gentle smile in place as he stitched a wound on a man’s forearm.

“Hold still, it’ll be over in a minute,” he murmured softly.

But the man scoffed, his tone dripping arrogance. “Tch, an omega doctor. No wonder it’s taking forever.”

The words sliced deeper than the wound he was treating. Jiang Shuai’s fingers faltered for half a second, but he kept his composure, lips pressed into a thin line. “If you’re not satisfied, you’re free to leave,” he said quietly.

The man laughed mockingly. “Oh? Getting brave now, huh? Maybe you should stick to things you’re good at—like—”

Before the insult could finish, the door slammed open.

Two towering figures filled the doorway—Chi Cheng and Guo Cheng Yu.

Both alphas paused as their gazes locked across the room, a thick tension slicing through the air. Patients and nurses froze, the scent of dominance instantly flooding the space.

Chi Cheng’s sharp eyes moved first—to Jiang Shuai, then to the man sitting on the bed. The omega’s delicate hands were still gloved, trembling slightly. The bruise on his lip—one Chi Cheng himself had caused—stood out painfully under the light.

“What the hell did you just say to him?” Chi Cheng’s voice was low, dangerously calm.

The rude patient turned pale under the weight of that tone. “N-nothing, sir, I—”

Guo Cheng Yu stepped forward, his presence no less intimidating though his smile was cool. “Careful with your mouth,” he said, leaning against the wall, eyes never leaving Jiang Shuai. “He’s my doctor. You don’t talk to him like that.”

The room seemed to shrink under the weight of two powerful auras—one dark and stormy, the other smooth and suffocating. Jiang Shuai could feel the dominance in the air pressing on his lungs.

“Enough,” he said sharply, though his voice trembled. “Both of you—this is a clinic, not your battlefield. Get out if you’re going to act like this.”

Chi Cheng’s gaze softened for a fleeting second at the omega’s quivering voice, while Cheng Yu’s lips curved in a faint, knowing smile.

The rude patient slipped out quietly, sensing the danger. Now only the three of them remained.

Jiang Shuai turned away, trying to calm his racing heart as he busied himself with the instruments. “I don’t need either of you to protect me,” he muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Chi Cheng took a step closer, his voice rough. “You clearly do.”

And Cheng Yu chuckled, his tone laced with charm. “Seems we think alike for once.”

The omega froze between them—two predators, two obsessions—each waiting for the other to make a move.

Jiang Shuai stood frozen near his desk, his heart pounding as both alphas turned to face each other.

Chi Cheng’s dark eyes glinted with suppressed fury. “What the hell are you doing here, Cheng Yu?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm, every word edged like a blade.

Guo Cheng Yu tilted his head, smiling faintly. “Same thing as you, apparently. Visiting the cute doctor.” He turned toward Jiang Shuai, his tone softening. “I brought him breakfast that morning. Seems he forgot to take care of himself.”

Chi Cheng’s jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek ticking. “You think that gives you the right to walk into his clinic like you own it?”

Cheng Yu’s smirk deepened. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same question. You barge in here every day, threatening the poor omega, and now you’re acting possessive?”

Jiang Shuai flinched slightly at the word possessive, but neither alpha noticed—too consumed by the dominance crackling between them.

Chi Cheng took a slow step forward, towering over Cheng Yu. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Stay out of this.”

Cheng Yu didn’t back down. His smile vanished, replaced by a cold sharpness that matched the other alpha’s menace. “I don’t take orders from you. And if anyone’s staying out of this, it’s you.”

The air grew heavier, thick with the scent of two alphas battling for control. Jiang Shuai could barely breathe, trapped between two storms threatening to destroy everything in their path.

“Stop it, both of you!” he shouted suddenly, voice cracking. “This is a clinic, not a battlefield! I’m tired of your fights—and this s my clinic!”

For a moment, silence reigned again.

Chi Cheng’s gaze softened—just a flicker—as it landed on the trembling omega, before his expression hardened once more. “You don’t understand, doctor,” he said quietly. “This isn’t just a fight.”

Cheng Yu crossed his arms, voice cool and taunting. “No, it’s a competition.”

---

The clinic was supposed to be a place of calm—but with two alphas seated across from each other, glaring like predators in a cage, the air was thick enough to choke on.

Every nurse had found an excuse to “step outside.”

Every patient had quietly backed away, muttering something about “coming another day.”

Only Jiang Shuai seemed determined to ignore the chaos brewing in his own clinic.

He focused on his chart, pretending not to notice the heavy silence between the two towering men. “When will you both leave?,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple.

But no one listened.

Chi Cheng sat with one leg crossed, cigarette in hand, eyes locked on Cheng Yu like a wolf waiting for a reason to attack.

Cheng Yu leaned back lazily, a half-smile playing on his lips, arms spread across the chair as if marking his territory.

When Jiang Shuai stood to get a box of medicine from the top shelf, his white coat swishing around his knees, both alphas straightened in unison.

The omega stretched on his toes, muttering in annoyance as his fingers barely brushed the edge of the shelf.

And then—

“I’ll get it,” Chi Cheng said, his voice low and commanding.

“I’ll get it,” Cheng Yu said at the exact same moment.

Their gazes clashed like thunder meeting flame.

Jiang Shuai froze mid-reach, looking between them. “…It’s just a medicine box,” he said slowly.

But it was too late. Both men had already stood.

Chi Cheng moved first—broad shoulders and dark intensity cutting through the air as he reached up effortlessly.

Cheng Yu moved at the same time—just as tall, just as stubborn, reaching over the same shelf.

Their hands brushed.

The sound of their growl echoed through the room.

Jiang Shuai stared, exasperated. “Are you two seriously fighting over a box?”

Neither replied.

Chi Cheng smirked, handing the medicine box directly to Jiang Shuai, but his eyes never left Cheng Yu.

“See, doctor,” he said, voice dangerously smooth, “when you’ve got a capable alpha, you don’t need anyone else.”

Cheng Yu chuckled, tilting his head. “Capable? You mean territorial.”

Before they could start again, Jiang Shuai snatched the box from Chi Cheng’s hand, glaring at both of them.

“Enough! I swear, one more word from either of you and I’ll sedate you myself and ripped out your organs!”

Chi Cheng smirked. Cheng Yu grinned.

And somewhere deep down, Jiang Shuai regretted ever opening the clinic door that morning.

---

The smell of smoke curled lazily through the air, coiling around the sterile scent of disinfectant and medicine. It was out of place here —like sin invading sanctuary.

Jiang shuai turned from his desk, his patience snapping the moment his eyes landed on the source of that familiar smoke.

Chi Cheng sat there like he owned the room, one arm draped over the back of the chair, cigarette resting between his fingers, lips parted slightly as he exhaled a slow, taunting cloud of smoke.

The omega’s irritation boiled over. He marched straight toward the alpha, his white coat flaring behind him.

“Not here,” he hissed, and before Chi Cheng could react, Shuai plucked the cigarette from his mouth and crushed it in the nearby tray.

The motion was quick—reckless— like swatting at a tiger.

Chi Cheng froze. His jaw flexed once, twice, the muscles in his arm tightening as if holding back something dangerous.

Jiang Shuai glared up at him, chest rising and falling with contained fury. “No smoking in my clinic,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, but his gaze didn’t waver. “You think you can walk in here and do whatever you want? You’re wrong.”

The alpha’s eyes darkened, slow and sharp like a storm rolling in. He leaned back, his voice low and cutting. “You’ve got guts, doctor. I’ll give you that.”

Shuai stepped closer, his heart pounding so loud he could barely hear himself. “I don’t need your compliments. I need you to leave. Go find someone else to play your games with. I’m not interested.”

The words hung in the air—defiant, trembling, brave.

For a long second, Chi Cheng just stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips— cold, amused, dangerous.

“Someone else?” he repeated softly, his voice dipping an octave lower. “I told you before, doctor… I don’t want someone else.”

He leaned forward, his scent thick and commanding, his eyes gleaming with that maddening obsession. “I want you.”

The air cracked between them.

Chi Cheng’s words were a provocation—deliberate, sharp, meant to burn. Jiang Shuai had tolerated enough. His pulse thundered in his ears as his hand flew up before he could think.

Smack!

The sound echoed through the clinic, slicing through the silence like lightning.

Chi Cheng’s head tilted slightly from the impact. A stunned pause followed—then a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. His eyes, once lazy with amusement, turned black with fury.

In the next heartbeat, he moved.

Shuai barely had time to gasp before the alpha’s hand closed around his wrist, and his back hit the desk behind him. The wood rattled beneath the sudden weight as Chi Cheng leaned in, breath rough and hot against his cheek.

“You’ve made the same mistake again,” Chi Cheng growled, his voice deep, low, and trembling with restrained anger. “You think you can slap me and walk away?”

Jiang Shuai’s heart pounded violently—part fear, part defiance. His hands pressed against Chi Cheng’s chest, but the alpha’s grip tightened on his wrist, keeping him caged.

Chi Cheng’s gaze dropped to the hand that had struck him, his eyes narrowing. “These pretty hands…” he murmured, the words scraping out like gravel, “…they weren’t made for hitting.”

He brought Shuai’s hand up slowly, holding it in the air between them, his touch rough but oddly reverent—as if torn between anger and something far more dangerous.

“They’ll only look good,” he said, voice husky and low, “when they’re trembling against me.”

The space between them throbbed with heat and unspoken words— defiance clashing with obsession, fear with desire.

Jiang Shuai’s breathing hitched as his eyes met Chi Cheng’s. For a moment, neither spoke. The world outside the clinic ceased to exist— only the ragged sound of their breathing filled the air.

“Let go of me,” he hissed, twisting his wrist, but Chi Cheng’s grip only tightened, the veins in his hand flexing as if his own anger was fighting to break free.

“I said—let go!” Shuai snapped, his voice cracking, a rare flash of fury lighting his usually calm eyes.

For a split second, Chi Cheng froze. The Omega’s tone wasn’t pleading—it was commanding.

Taking that moment, Shuai shoved him hard. It wasn’t enough to move the alpha far, but the surprise in Chi Cheng’s eyes was victory enough. Shuai used it to push again, the desk screeching slightly as he slipped out from his hold.

He stumbled a step back, chest heaving, palms trembling.

“Don’t you dare touch me again,” he spat, his voice shaking but sharp as glass. “You think you can come here, treat me like one of your possessions? You’re wrong, Chi Cheng. I’m not yours to command.”

Chi Cheng’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching, but he didn’t move closer this time. His eyes— dark, unreadable—followed the Omega’s every breath. There was rage there, yes… but beneath it, something else. Something almost desperate.

Jiang Shuai noticed it and that scared him even more.

He turned away quickly, forcing his voice to steady. “Get out. Before I call security.”

Chi Cheng’s lips parted, as if to speak to apologize or maybe to threaten—but no sound came. He stared at Shuai’s trembling shoulders, the way his hands gripped the edge of the desk to keep from shaking, and something in his chest twisted painfully.

He stepped back.

Then another step.

Without a word, Chi Cheng turned and left, the clinic door closing with a soft, heavy click that echoed far louder than it should have.

Jiang Shuai slumped against the desk, his knees weak. His hand— the one Chi Cheng had held—still burned, as if his touch refused to fade.

He hated that his heart was still pounding for him.

---

The sound of hammering and loud voices outside the clinic broke the calm morning. Jiang Shuai looked up from his patient’s chart, confusion etching across his features.

When he stepped out, a group of men in hard hats stood near the entrance, holding rolled-up blueprints. Their expressions were indifferent, almost mechanical.

“Doctor Jiang?” one of them asked. “We’ve been instructed to start demolition. You’ll have to clear the premises within a week.”

Shuai’s breath caught. “What?” His voice trembled. “This clinic is licensed under the city health department. You can’t just—”

“Orders from the top,” the man interrupted, avoiding eye contact. “New development project. We’re just following instructions.”

His knees weakened as the words sank in. “From the top…” he whispered.

There was only one person who had that kind of reach.

Chi Cheng.

For a moment, the world tilted. His clinic the only place where he had found peace, purpose—was about to be erased because of him. Because he had dared to defy a man who couldn’t stand being pushed away.

He stumbled back inside, shutting the door behind him, his hand clutching his chest. The walls of the small clinic suddenly felt too tight, the air too thin.

He had built this place from nothing —every cabinet, every worn chair, every patient who smiled after getting better… all of it held meaning. And now it was slipping away, piece by piece, under Chi Cheng’s control.

“No…” he whispered, shaking his head. “He can’t do this. He can’t—”

But he knew he could.

Because Chi Cheng wasn’t a man who made empty threats. He was a man who took.

And Jiang Shuai realized with a sickening twist in his gut this wasn’t just about revenge. It was about control. About reminding him that even if Chi Cheng wasn’t here in person, his shadow still loomed over every corner of Shuai’s life.

He sank into his chair, hands trembling, eyes blurring with unshed tears.

For the first time in years, the strong, composed doctor felt utterly powerless.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

But most of all… he wanted to ask why.

Why couldn’t Chi Cheng just let him go?

---

The glass doors of the towering building reflected Jiang Shuai’s pale face as he stood before them, his pulse drumming wildly in his ears. His white doctor’s coat had been replaced by a simple grey shirt, sleeves trembling slightly as he gripped the folder in his hands— the last copy of his clinic’s documents.

The guards at the lobby recognized him instantly. They exchanged looks, whispering something before letting him through.

Each step toward Chi Cheng’s office felt heavier than the last. The elevator chimed softly, the sterile hum inside only amplifying his heartbeat. When the doors slid open to the top floor, the silence that greeted him was suffocating.

Chi Cheng’s office door stood ajar.

He was inside—seated behind his massive desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. Smoke curled in the air, mingling with the scent of expensive cologne and danger.

When Jiang Shuai entered, his throat went dry. “Why?” he finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Chi Cheng’s eyes lifted lazily from the papers, but the darkness in them made the doctor’s knees weak. “Why what?” he asked, exhaling a slow puff of smoke.

“You know what I mean,” Shuai said, stepping closer, voice trembling but firm. “The clinic— my clinic—you’re destroying it. Why, Chi Cheng? What did it ever do to you?”

Chi Cheng leaned back, watching him like a predator assessing prey. “It got in my way,” he said simply.

Shuai’s breath hitched. “Your way?”

The alpha stood, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “Yes, Jiang Shuai. You think you can hide from me behind those hospital walls? Pretend you’re safe in your little world?” He came closer, each step deliberate, until the desk no longer separated them. “You’re not.”

Shuai instinctively stepped back, his folder clutched tight against his chest. “I’m not your property,” he whispered. “You can’t just take away everything from me because I won’t come back to you.”

Chi Cheng’s gaze flickered, a storm beneath calm waters. He reached out, brushing a thumb across Shuai’s cheek. The doctor flinched.

“I warned you before, didn’t I?” Chi Cheng murmured, voice low and dangerous. “When I say you’re mine, I mean it.”

“Then what do you want from me?” Shuai’s voice broke, tears threatening to spill. “You said you don’t care about Wu Suowei anymore, then why—why are you still doing this to me?”

For a moment, Chi Cheng said nothing. The silence was deafening. Then he dropped his cigarette into the ashtray and murmured,

“Because I can’t forget you.”

Shuai froze.

“Because every time I close my eyes, I see you instead of him.” His tone hardened again, almost self-loathing. “And that makes me furious.”

Jiang Shuai’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“I told myself I’d destroy everything that kept you away from me,” Chi Cheng said, his voice raw now, dangerous yet aching. “Your clinic, your peace, your pride—all of it. Maybe then you’ll have nowhere else to run but back to me.”

Shuai shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. “That’s not love, Chi Cheng… that’s cruelty.”

The alpha stared at him in silence, the tension so thick it burned. Then, almost softly, he whispered,

“I don’t know how to love you any other way.”

Jiang Shuai’s heart cracked at the confession—part fury, part sorrow. 

“Then don’t love me at all.”

Chapter Text

Author’s pov :

The city’s underbelly reeked of smoke, alcohol, and sin. It wasn’t the kind of place a doctor like Jiang Shuai belonged to—yet here he was, clutching a worn folder against his chest, his heart pounding painfully with every step he took deeper into the maze of narrow streets and neon lights.

The warehouse loomed ahead, its rusted metal doors half open. Loud laughter and the sound of glasses clinking spilled out from inside. He hesitated at the entrance, forcing himself to step in.

Inside, the air was heavy with the stench of cigars and sweat. Several alphas sat around a table, gambling, arguing, their gazes turning toward him like wolves scenting blood.

“Who the hell invited this pretty omega?” one of them jeered, his voice thick with mockery.

Another chuckled darkly. “Looks like someone lost their way to heaven and ended up in hell.”

Jiang Shuai swallowed hard, ignoring the stares that crawled all over his skin. He spotted the man he came to meet—the land broker, a broad, tattooed alpha with scars cutting across his neck.

“I came… I came about the clinic property,” Shuai managed, his voice trembling.

The man smirked, rising from his chair. “Ah, the famous doctor who caught Chi Cheng’s eye. I’ve heard of you.”

Shuai’s stomach twisted. “Please,” he said softly, “I’ll pay you whatever I can. Just… help me save my clinic. It’s all I have.”

The alpha leaned closer, his grin widening, the scent of alcohol washing over Shuai. “You can’t afford my help, doctor. But…” his eyes roamed shamelessly down Shuai’s small frame,“maybe you have something else to offer.”

Shuai froze, his heart stopping. “W–What do you mean?”

The alpha’s fingers brushed his cheek, and the room filled with low laughter. “Come on, doctor. Don’t play innocent. You can’t pay me in money, but you can pay me in kind.”

The color drained from Shuai’s face. He stepped back immediately, shaking his head, voice breaking. “No. I—I can’t. I’m not—”

“Then leave,” the man said coldly, sitting back down. “You’re wasting my time.”

But as he turned away, another alpha from the table stood up, blocking Shuai’s path. “He came all this way,” he said mockingly. “At least let him stay for a drink.”

Shuai’s pulse spiked, panic clawing up his throat. “No—please, I just want to leave.”

The first alpha laughed, sipping his whiskey. “You’re in the wrong place to beg, sweetheart. Either you pay, or you play.”

His knees nearly gave out. His vision blurred, breath shallow, the scent of testosterone around him thick and suffocating.

He stumbled backward, clutching the folder tightly as if it could shield him from the world closing in. “Please,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Just let me go.”

For a moment, silence. Then the man waved his hand dismissively. “Get him out of here. I don’t deal with useless omegas like him.”

Jiang Shuai didn’t wait for a second invitation. He turned and ran out through the metal doors, into the cold night air his breath ragged, tears streaming down his face as the echo of cruel laughter followed him down the street.

He kept running until his lungs burned, stopping only when he reached a deserted streetlight. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold his phone.

He sank to his knees, whispering brokenly,

“Why can’t anyone help me…”

His clinic was slipping through his fingers. His dignity too. 

---

The clock struck midnight. The city outside Chi Cheng’s glass office was drenched in silver light, skyscrapers cutting through the mist like blades. Inside, the silence was broken only by the faint scratch of his pen and the ticking of his watch.

One of his men entered quietly, bowing his head. “Boss, there’s something you should know.”

Chi Cheng didn’t look up. “Speak.”

“It’s about the omega doctor. Jiang Shuai.”

That name alone made his pen pause. His gaze lifted, cold and sharp. “What about him?”

The man swallowed. “He went to the docks tonight. To the land mafia. He’s… asking for help to save his clinic.”

The air in the office shifted— heavier, sharper. Chi Cheng leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. His fingers drummed once against the desk, then stopped.

“And?” he said quietly.

The man hesitated. “They said he was desperate. The mafia boss wanted a price—”

“Which one?” Chi Cheng interrupted, his voice a low growl.

“Lin Kai.”

That was all it took for fury to ignite behind his calm expression. Lin Kai —a leech who touched anything fragile just to see it break.

Before his man could continue, Chi Cheng’s phone buzzed. Lin Kai’s name glowed on the screen. Without hesitation, Chi Cheng answered.

On the other end came a laugh— smooth, mocking. “Chi Cheng, what a surprise. I didn’t help your little doctor. But I have to admit… he’s quite a sweet treat. Didn’t expect him to show up at my doorstep all scared and trembling. I almost felt bad letting him leave.”

Chi Cheng’s jaw clenched so tight his teeth nearly cracked. His voice dropped to an octave lower, calm but lethal.

“Know your limits, Lin Kai.”

“Oh? You sound possessive,” the man teased.

Chi Cheng’s tone turned glacial. “You know I don’t repeat myself. If you or your men so much as breathe in his direction again, I’ll make sure your body’s found in the same dock you sit on.”

The smugness vanished from the other end, replaced by nervous laughter. “Relax, Cheng. I didn’t touch him.”

Click.

Chi Cheng hung up before the man could finish.

He stood, sliding his coat over his shoulders, the cigarette between his lips burning low. Through the haze of smoke, his expression darkened—a storm contained behind cold eyes.

His man dared to speak. “Boss, are you going to see him?”

Chi Cheng glanced toward the city lights, exhaling slowly. “He shouldn’t have gone there.” His voice was low, almost to himself. “That fool doesn’t know what kind of danger he walks into.”

And then, softer—words no one was meant to hear:

“If anyone dares touch him… they die.”

---

Jiang Shuai shut the door behind him with shaking hands, his back pressing against the cold wood as if it could hold him together. The second the latch clicked, the weight he’d been carrying all day crashed down on him.

His knees buckled.

He sank onto the bed, burying his face into his trembling palms. For so long, he’d held himself together—in front of his patients, his staff, even those monsters at the docks. But now, in the silence of his small home, every ounce of composure shattered.

Tears came hard and fast.

He curled into the blanket, dragging it up to his chin as if it could shield him from the world, from his own fear. His body shook uncontrollably, small sobs escaping despite how hard he tried to stay quiet.

His scent—soft jasmine with a hint of peach—began to fill the room, thick and sweet, betraying his emotions. The faint glow of the bedside lamp turned everything golden, but even that warmth felt suffocating.

“I just wanted to save it…” he whispered into the blanket, voice breaking. “My clinic… I worked so hard for it…”

The tears wouldn’t stop. He pressed his hand against his chest, where it ached the most.

He had nothing left—no power, no protection. Even Cheng Yu was gone, and Chi Cheng…

Just the thought of that man sent a chill down his spine. His scent spiked again, fear laced through the sweetness.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. He didn’t even know whom to trust.

For the first time in years, Jiang Shuai truly felt like prey cornered in his own home, trembling, helpless, and alone.

FLASHBACK:

The music was too loud, the lights too bright.

Jiang Shuai blinked, his vision already blurring as he tried to focus on the dance floor. The bitter taste of alcohol clung to his lips, something he hadn’t wanted, something that burned all the way down his throat when one of his boyfriend’s friends laughed and handed him another glass, saying, “Come on, don’t be boring.”

He was only eighteen. Barely wise, still too trusting.

He’d come here thinking it would make his boyfriend happy, that maybe, if he went along just this once, he’d stop calling him “too innocent,” “too quiet,” “too boring.”

But now, as he stood there, swaying slightly, he realized how wrong he’d been.

His boyfriend was across the room, an arm wrapped around another omega’s waist, laughing like Jiang Shuai didn’t even exist. The sight made his chest tighten, a dull ache spreading under his ribs.

The music pounded in his ears, the flashing lights making it hard to think. Someone’s hand brushed against his arm, another pressed a drink to his lips again, and he shook his head weakly. “N-no, I’ve had enough…”

They only laughed. “Don’t act like a saint, pretty boy.”

The alcohol’s effects were hitting him now. His head was spinning, the floor seemed to tilt under his feet. He stumbled toward the bar counter, gripping its edge for balance, his breath uneven.

He hated it.

The smell of sweat, alcohol, and lust in the air.

The way his boyfriend didn’t even look his way.

The way he felt like he didn’t belong here at all.

He wanted to go home. To breathe.

But the room spun again, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the dizziness. His heartbeat was loud—too loud. His hands trembled against the counter as he whispered to himself, “I shouldn’t have come… I shouldn’t have come here…”

Somewhere behind him, laughter echoed. His boyfriend’s voice, carefree, distant, and it hurt more than the alcohol burning in his veins.

Jiang Shuai’s steps faltered as he followed his boyfriend through the haze of light and smoke.

“Wait, where are you going?” he asked, voice trembling.

But the alpha didn’t even turn. A lazy smile curved his mouth as he leaned closer to another omega, whispering something that made them giggle. Then he was gone—just like that—leaving Jiang Shuai standing there, small and lost amid the chaos.

Tears blurred his vision. He blinked hard, forcing them back, but the ache in his throat wouldn’t fade. Before he could slip away, a rough hand landed on his shoulder. His boyfriend’s friends were there—loud, laughing, the smell of alcohol clinging to their clothes.

“Hey, sit with us! Don’t sulk.”

He tried to shake his head, but they were already pulling him down onto the couch. The table before them was littered with half-empty glasses, cigarette smoke curling in the dim light.

“Come on, drink,” one urged, pushing a glass toward him. “You’re too uptight.”

“I don’t want—”

“Drink.”

The command was sharp, heavy with dominance. His pulse jumped, and before he knew it, the bitter liquid was on his tongue again. The laughter around him grew louder, sharper, until it felt like it was slicing through his chest.

He wanted to leave. His body said run, but when he tried to stand, someone blocked his way. The air was thick with alpha pheromones, suffocating, pressing down on him until his knees trembled. He turned his face away, clutching his shirt in shaking fists.

“Let me go,” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the noise.

No one heard him. Or maybe no one cared.

The lights flashed crimson, the laughter blurred into a cruel hum, and Jiang Shuai realized—he shouldn’t have come here. He didn’t belong in their world of smoke and lies and careless hearts.

Jiang Shuai’s pulse raced as one of the alphas leaned closer, his grin twisting under the flashing lights.

“Come on, pretty thing,” the man drawled, fingers brushing too near.

Jiang Shuai’s mind went blank. Then—smack. The sound of the slap sliced through the noise.

Everything stopped.

The alpha froze, one hand pressed to his cheek, his eyes narrowing with rage. The laughter around them died, replaced by a heavy, dangerous silence.

Jiang Shuai’s heart pounded. He hadn’t meant to do it—it was pure instinct, a desperate attempt to protect himself. But the moment the alpha’s gaze darkened, he knew what he’d done.

“You…” The man’s voice dropped to a growl. “You think you can hit me?”

He grabbed Jiang Shuai by the wrist, yanking him up so hard that the chair toppled over. The sudden force made the omega stumble, his knees buckling as fear rushed through him.

“Let me go!” he gasped, trying to pull back, but the grip only tightened.

The alpha dragged him toward the back hallway—dark, lined with private rooms where the noise of the club couldn’t reach. The corridor smelled of smoke and spilled liquor, the lights dim and flickering.

Jiang Shuai’s breath came in shallow bursts. His mind screamed for escape, but his body wouldn’t obey. Every step echoed like a countdown.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Pretty thing.”

“Such a delicate doll.”

“An omega shouldn’t pout like that.”

Each word hit harder than a slap.

He hated how the word omega rolled off their tongues—lazy, hungry, dismissive. It wasn’t a name; it was a label that stripped him bare.

He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he could peel that part of him away—the part that made them stare, made them whisper. The part that made him small.

Jiang Shuai stumbled out of the club’s back door, half-running, half-falling down the steps. The heavy bass of music still pounded behind him, echoing in his skull like a cruel reminder. His lungs burned, each breath tearing through him as if the city itself wanted to choke him.

He didn’t know how he’d managed to get away. One moment he’d been trapped, the next, some blinding rush of fear had given him strength enough to push, shove, and run. His heart thudded wildly against his ribs, the alcohol and panic mixing into a nauseating blur.

Outside, the street was slick from rain. The neon lights painted the puddles red and blue, shimmering beneath his shaking reflection. He hugged himself tightly, trembling, his fingers cold and clammy.

No one came after him.

No one came for him.

His so-called boyfriend—nowhere in sight. Laughter and music still poured from the club, but none of it reached him. For the first time, Jiang Shuai realized just how alone he was.

He leaned against the brick wall, sliding down until his knees hit the wet ground. His body shook violently, every nerve still on edge, the scent of smoke and alcohol clinging to him. He wanted to cry, scream, disappear—but all he could do was gasp for air and whisper to himself, “I just want to go home…”

The night swallowed his words. Only the hum of passing cars answered.

And somewhere far away, lightning split the clouds—briefly illuminating the trembling boy in a soaked shirt, too young, too trusting, and already breaking under the weight of a world that had shown him no mercy.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The city lights blurred through the drizzle, painting the windshield in streaks of gold and red. Jiang Shuai’s hands trembled on the steering wheel, his breath shallow. Every call he’d made, every form he’d filed, every plea to the police —all useless.

No one wanted to stand against Chi Cheng.

The clinic had always been his haven. A place where he’d healed others, where the smell of antiseptic and blooming jasmine kept him grounded. Now it was slipping away from him piece by piece—the walls that once echoed with his quiet footsteps were already marked for demolition.

He couldn’t sleep anymore. Every night brought the same suffocating panic, the same dreams of fire and collapse. He’d wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, clutching the keys to a clinic that might not exist tomorrow.

And tonight, he decided to do the one thing he had always sworn he never would.

He told himself it was survival, not surrender. That he was only doing what the world had forced him to.

The club lights hit him the moment he walked in—loud, dizzying, and cruel. He stood awkwardly by the entrance, still wearing his plain shirt and scuffed shoes, so out of place among the shimmering figures that laughed and leaned into one another.

He didn’t find beautiful himself like them. He wasn’t confident. He didn’t even know how to move in a place like this.

But his eyes were steady, a quiet plea hidden behind the fear. He didn’t want love. He didn’t want kindness.

All he wanted was a way to save the only place that ever made him feel like he belonged.

The music thudded against Jiang Shuai’s ribs, a low, pulsing ache that matched his heartbeat. He took one hesitant step after another, his eyes darting between flashing lights and swaying bodies, trying to ignore the way every alpha scent in the air pressed down on him.

He didn’t notice when he bumped into someone until a rough hand steadied him by the shoulder.

“Doctor Jiang?”

The voice sent a chill down his spine. He looked up and froze.

Lin Kai.

The man’s smirk was all teeth and shadow as his eyes trailed over the small omega standing before him.

“Well, well. Without that ugly white coat, you’re not half bad,” Lin Kai drawled, leaning closer until Jiang could smell the faint hint of alcohol and smoke on his breath. “What’s an omega like you doing in a place like this?”

Jiang’s throat went dry. He tried to speak, but the words came out like a whisper.

“I… I need money.”

For a heartbeat, Lin Kai simply stared. Then his grin spread wider, cruel amusement flickering in his gaze. He chuckled lowly and threw an arm around Jiang’s shoulders, dragging him closer.

“Money?” he echoed, voice dipping with mock sympathy. “Now that’s something I can help with. How much do you need, hmm?”

Jiang swallowed hard, his fingers clutching the strap of his bag.

“Enough… enough to get my clinic back,” he said quietly. His voice trembled with something fragile — hope, maybe.

Lin Kai hummed, eyes glinting. “Ah, so that’s what this is about,” he said, almost kindly — but his tone was sharp beneath the surface. “You finally made a wise choice, doctor. You come to me for help, and I’ll give you what you want.”

He leaned closer, the words brushing against Jiang’s ear.

“For a price.”

Jiang stiffened, every instinct screaming at him to run.

The lights in the VIP section were dim, tinted gold through the haze of smoke. The laughter around him felt distant, muffled like the sound of rain against glass.

Jiang Shuai didn’t know when the glass was pressed into his hand again. He barely remembered refusing the first one, and now the second was already empty. His head swam, vision blurring as his cheek fell against Lin Kai’s shoulder.

“You really can’t hold your liquor, can you?” Lin Kai said, voice slick with mock affection. He stroked the rim of his own glass before setting it down and looking around the table.

The other alphas were watching— eyes glinting, murmuring among themselves.

“Where’d you find this one, Kai?” someone asked, leaning forward with an eager grin.

“Didn’t know you had such refined taste.”

Lin Kai chuckled lowly, his hand tightening possessively around Jiang Shuai’s shoulder.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” he said lazily. “A rare kind of beauty… and rarer courage, walking into a place like this.”

The group laughed.

Jiang tried to lift his head, but the room tilted and his stomach turned. His pulse was too fast; everything felt too hot, too loud. He wanted to go home, to sleep, to forget this night existed.

Lin Kai’s voice broke through his haze—calm, measured, but laced with greed.

“You want to know where I found him?” he said, eyes flicking toward the others. “You can have him too—if you can afford the price.”

A roar of laughter echoed, and glasses clinked.

Jiang’s fingers twitched against his thigh. Somewhere deep inside the fog, panic stirred—faint but sharp.

He wanted to move.

He couldn’t.

---

The phone buzzed once against the coffee table.

Chi Cheng ignored it at first, leaning back against the couch, one hand wrapped around a glass he hadn’t touched. The smoke from his cigarette curled upward, lazy and thin—until the next vibration came, longer, insistent.

He picked it up.

The message was short.

Just a photo.

For a second he didn’t breathe.

Jiang Shuai was slumped in someone’s arms—head hanging, eyes unfocused, his white shirt wrinkled, collar half-open. Around him, a blur of men, all smiling too wide, looking at him like he was something to be tasted.

Something inside Chi Cheng snapped.

The glass hit the floor, shattering. He was already on his feet, his cigarette crushed to ash under his boot. His chest rose and fell hard, anger boiling so fast it made his vision swim.

“Lin Kai,” he muttered, the name dripping venom.

He grabbed his jacket, the muscles in his jaw tightening until they ached. The photo burned in his head—those hands on Jiang Shuai, that lost expression on the omega’s face.

No one touched what was his.

No one.

---

Jiang Shuai pushed Lin Kai weakly, his trembling hands barely making contact with the alpha’s chest. Panic flickered in his glazed eyes, the alcohol clouding his mind but not enough to dull the fear crawling up his spine. His breath hitched as he stumbled back, shaking his head, strands of his dark hair sticking to his damp forehead.

Kai’s hand shot out, gripping Shuai’s arm tightly, forcing him still. His smirk was cold, predatory.

“Don’t back away, omega,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “You should be grateful I brought more clients for you.”

The words struck like venom, burning through the haze of Shuai’s drunken thoughts. His lips parted, trembling, as he shook his head again—harder this time—his whole body trembling. “N-No… I didn’t ask for this…” he whispered, voice breaking.

His scent betrayed him—a soft, trembling sweetness that filled the air, the instinctive plea of an omega in distress. It only made the alphas around him stir, their eyes darkening with greed and lust.

Shuai’s tears shimmered in the dim light as they threatened to spill. “Please… don’t…” he begged, his voice cracking, the room spinning as the scent of alcohol and alpha pheromones suffocated him.

But Lin Kai only leaned closer, his breath hot against Shuai’s ear.

“Then stop tempting them,” he murmured cruelly, his fingers tightening on Shuai’s chin, forcing him to look up.

And in that moment, Jiang Shuai’s heart sank—because even through the drunken fog, he realized just how trapped he was.

Kai shoved Shuai down onto the velvet sofa, the impact making the omega gasp as the breath was knocked from his lungs. The bass from the club thudded around them —loud, chaotic, distant,  but all Shuai could hear was the pounding of his own heart, frantic and terrified.

“Kai—” his voice broke as he tried to push the alpha away, his small hands pressing against the man’s chest, but Kai was too strong, too heavy. The smell of alcohol and dominance filled the space between them, suffocating him.

“Stop fighting,” Kai hissed, his eyes glinting under the neon lights as he pinned Shuai’s wrists above his head. The omega kicked, twisted, tried to escape—but it was useless. His strength was nothing compared to the alpha’s grip.

Kai’s fingers slid down, grazing Shuai’s trembling waist. The touch sent a shiver through him, not of pleasure, but pure dread. Fear crippled him, freezing every muscle in his body. His mind went blank— no, not blank, it went back. Back to the dark memories he tried so hard to bury.

The same helplessness. The same rough hands. The same weight pressing him down.

Shuai’s breath hitched, a soft, broken sound escaping his lips. His body stopped struggling. His fingers curled weakly, nails biting into his own palms. He shut his eyes tightly, as if by doing so he could vanish, disappear from this place, from this night.

And in that hollow moment, Jiang Shuai did the only thing his trembling body could manage—he surrendered. He let the defeat wash over him like cold rain, waiting for it to be over.

He could feel it—Kai’s hot breath ghosting over his neck, his lips hovering dangerously close to his scent gland. Shuai froze, every nerve screaming, terror clutching his chest so tightly it hurt to breathe. His tears slid silently down his flushed cheeks as he waited for the inevitable.

But then—

The weight was suddenly gone.

A harsh thud echoed, followed by a strangled groan. The suffocating air of dominance shifted violently, and Shuai gasped, dragging in air as if surfacing from deep water. His chest heaved, lungs burning, his mind struggling to understand what just happened.

He blinked rapidly, disoriented, and slowly pushed himself up on shaking arms. His vision swam for a second before clearing—only to reveal chaos.

Screams. Shouts. The sharp crash of glass. And in the center of it all—Chi Cheng.

The alpha’s eyes were blazing, his expression a storm of fury as he grabbed one of the alphas by the collar and sent him sprawling with a savage punch. His pheromones filled the entire club—rough, wild, commanding—forcing every other alpha to recoil under its pressure. The air vibrated with the sheer force of it.

“Touch him again,” Chi Cheng growled, voice dark and low, “and I’ll tear your hands off.”

Lin Kai staggered back, blood dripping from his lip, but before he could even respond, Chi Cheng was on him again—slamming him into the floor, his fist colliding with Kai’s face again and again, unrelenting, brutal.

Every punch echoed with rage.

Every blow screamed of possessiveness.

The once-loud club fell silent except for the sound of fists meeting flesh and Shuai’s uneven breathing. His heart hammered as he watched the alpha who had always been a bastard, reserved, cocky now losing himself entirely—for him.

Chi Cheng stayed true to his words. His rage was no longer restrained —it was raw, feral. He grabbed Lin Kai’s wrist in one brutal motion, twisting it back until a sharp, sickening crack filled the air.

Kai’s scream tore through the club, echoing over the pounding music that had long since stopped. The sound was horrifying, a mix of agony and disbelief.

Shuai flinched violently. His whole body trembled as the scream clawed into his ears. He couldn’t bear it—he lifted his trembling hands to cover them, pressing hard as if to block out the world, his shoulders shaking.

“Stop…” he whispered weakly, his voice drowned beneath the chaos. His knees drew up to his chest, and he hugged himself tighter, curling into the corner of the sofa. His breath came in shallow, broken gasps, his eyes squeezed shut as if that could shut out the sight—the blood, the rage, the violence.

Chi Cheng stood over Kai, chest heaving, his knuckles slick with crimson. His pheromones were a storm, heavy and dominant, thick enough to make every other alpha in the room bow their heads in submission.

He turned his head slightly, and for a moment—just a brief, fleeting moment—his gaze softened when it landed on Shuai.

The trembling omega. The tears glistening down his cheeks. Chi Cheng’s fists unclenched slowly, the fury still burning in his veins but struggling against something else something quieter. Something that ached.

“...It’s over,” he said hoarsely, his voice no longer loud, but raw.

But Shuai didn’t move. He just sat there, small and broken, arms wrapped around himself as if afraid the world would crush him again. And as Chi Cheng watched him, the fire in his chest twisted painfully — because for all his strength, for all his dominance, he couldn’t protect Shuai from the fear already carved deep inside him.

Chi Cheng crossed the distance in two long strides, his boots crunching against shattered glass on the club floor. His jaw was tight, eyes still dark with the fading trace of violence as he reached for Shuai.

Without a word, he grabbed the omega’s wrist, pulling him up from the sofa. Shuai gasped, his body trembling as his legs buckled beneath him. He tried to stand, tried to obey the pull of the alpha’s hand, but fear and alcohol made his limbs useless. His knees gave out almost instantly.

Chi Cheng caught him before he hit the floor.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, exhaling sharply, frustration and anger twisting in his chest— not at Shuai, but at the sight of him like this. Fragile. Terrified. Shaking so badly it made Cheng’s heart ache despite the adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

The omega’s tears soaked his cheeks, his breath coming in small, uneven hiccups. “I—I can’t…” Shuai mumbled weakly, his voice barely audible.

Chi Cheng didn’t answer. Instead, he bent down and, with one swift motion, slid an arm under Shuai’s knees and another behind his back. The omega gasped as he was lifted effortlessly off the ground, his small frame fitting easily in the alpha’s arms.

The room fell utterly silent.

Every alpha and bystander watched as Chi Cheng—drenched in someone else’s blood, muscles tense, eyes burning—carried the crying omega in a bridal hold.

Shuai’s fingers curled weakly into the fabric of Cheng’s shirt, his tears dampening the front of it. His scent was faint, trembling, and sweet—a mix of fear and innocence that made the alpha’s throat tighten.

“Don’t look at him,” Chi Cheng growled lowly to the others, his voice lethal. “If anyone dares—”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. The threat in his tone was enough to make every gaze drop instantly.

And as he strode out of the club, the neon lights flickering across his cold face and the omega in his arms, the contrast was stark—a beast carrying something far too delicate, like a man who’d just realized what he was willing to destroy the world to protect.

---

Chi Cheng’s steps were heavy, echoing through the quiet apartment as he carried the limp omega in his arms. The scent of alcohol and fear clung to Jiang Shuai like smoke, seeping into Chi Cheng’s skin. He kicked the door shut behind him and laid the trembling man on his bed, the sheets dipping under the small weight.

For a long moment, Chi Cheng just stood there—watching. His hands were still curled as if afraid to let go. He had dragged men out of gunfire, broken bones without blinking, but now…one fragile omega made his chest ache with something he couldn’t name.

Jiang Shuai’s lashes fluttered, breath shallow, skin pale against the dark pillowcase. The sight pulled a scowl from Chi Cheng—part anger, part something else.

“What the hell were you thinking,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to the unconscious man. He wanted to be furious, to shake him awake and demand why he’d gone to that club, why he’d let himself get surrounded like that.

But the anger refused to come. Instead, his hands brushed Shuai’s cheek, the touch hesitant, almost reverent. The omega flinched in his sleep, and Chi Cheng’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t know what disturbed him more—how close he’d come to losing this doctor, or how gentle he’d just been without meaning to.

Chi Cheng turned away from the bed, his fists clenched at his sides. The dim light spilled across Jiang Shuai’s fragile frame — the way his shirt slipped from his shoulder, the bruised softness of his lips, the faint scent of peach and jasmine in the air — all of it clawed at Chi Cheng’s control.

He had to leave.

He wasn’t better than those bastards in the club, no, he was worse. He’d built his life on cruelty, power, and violence. The thought of staying another second near that trembling omega, so small and breakable on his bed, made the muscle in his jaw twitch painfully.

But just as he reached for the doorknob, something tugged at his sleeve.

“Don’t go…please.”

The voice was barely a whisper, trembling, soaked in fear.

Chi Cheng froze. He looked down, and there it was—a small, pale hand clutching the black fabric of his sleeve, knuckles white from the effort. Jiang Shuai’s eyes were open now, glassy and wet, his lips parted as he swallowed hard.

“I–I’m scared,” Shuai murmured, his voice breaking. “Your room… it’s too dark.”

For a moment, Chi Cheng didn’t breathe. He could feel the weight of that plea like a chain around his throat. His instinct screamed at him to pull away, to keep the distance before he did something unforgivable — but that single touch burned through every wall he’d ever built.

He exhaled harshly, turning slightly toward the omega, his voice low and strained.

“I don’t trust myself in your presence, little one.”

Shuai’s hand trembled but didn’t let go. He shook his head, whispering again,

“Please… don’t go.”

The silence between them thickened. The room felt smaller, heavier. Chi Cheng could hear the faint hitch in Shuai’s breathing, could feel the warmth of that desperate touch.

Finally, with a curse under his breath, he sat back on the edge of the bed—far enough not to touch, close enough that the omega could feel his presence.

“Sleep,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll stay.”

And though he told himself it was only to keep the nightmares away, Chi Cheng knew he wasn’t just protecting the omega from the dark. He was protecting him from himself.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

Jiang Shuai had fallen asleep not long after, exhaustion claiming him like a soft tide. His breathing was shallow but steady now, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. The faint light from the bedside lamp brushed against his face, revealing the traces of dried tears at the corner of his eyes.

Chi Cheng sat beside him, unmoving. He told himself he’d leave once the omega was fully asleep, but then he felt the slightest tug against his hand.

When he looked down, he saw it— Shuai’s delicate fingers curled around his little finger, holding on as if that small touch could anchor him to safety.

Chi Cheng froze.

For a man who’d faced death more times than he could count, it was strange that something so innocent—a trembling hand on his —could make his heartbeat stumble. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, eyes tracing the curve of the omega’s face.

The sight did something to him. It unraveled the anger that had been burning in him ever since he saw that picture—the image of those alphas circling around Shuai, their eyes full of hunger. His blood had boiled, his alpha instincts screaming to claim, to protect. And now, seeing the omega like this, trusting him enough to fall asleep, still holding onto him even in dreams…it disarmed him completely.

Chi Cheng let out a long, quiet sigh. His shoulders eased, his clenched jaw loosened. He sat there, still wearing the same dark clothes, his posture rigid as if any wrong move could shatter the fragile peace of the moment.

He didn’t move to touch the omega. Didn’t dare. He wasn’t sure if he was comforting the boy —or trying to convince himself that he was still in control.

The room was silent except for the soft rhythm of Shuai’s breathing. Every now and then, his fingers twitched, still refusing to let go of Chi Cheng’s little finger.

Chi Cheng stared at that small connection, his chest tightening in ways he didn’t understand.

“...You really don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.

He leaned back slightly, exhaling, the anger and chaos within him ebbing away bit by bit. For the first time in a long while, the darkness of his room didn’t feel suffocating.

It felt…calm.

Chi Cheng didn’t know when his eyes finally closed. One moment he was staring at the omega’s sleeping face, trying to keep his distance, and the next, the weight of exhaustion pulled him under.

The night deepened, shadows softening around them, the air heavy with warmth and faint traces of scent—his musky alpha aura blending with the omega’s sweeter one.

At first, they lay apart. But as the hours passed, something natural, instinctive, began to draw them closer. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was something deeper— something neither of them would dare name.

Shuai shifted first, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he unconsciously reached for warmth. His small hand brushed against Chi Cheng’s chest, and the alpha, even in sleep, responded to that fragile touch. His arm moved, finding its way around the omega’s waist, pulling him closer as though his body acted on instinct alone.

By the middle of the night, the distance between them was gone.

Jiang Shuai’s face rested against Chi Cheng’s chest, the steady rhythm of the alpha’s heartbeat lulling him deeper into slumber. His soft breath fanned against Chi Cheng’s skin, and the alpha’s hold around him tightened unconsciously—protective, possessive, tender.

The faint scent of Shuai’s hair, clean and sweet like spring rain, filled his senses. Chi Cheng inhaled softly, pressing his nose into those soft brown strands, and a strange calm washed over him. It had been years since he’d felt anything like peace.

The room that once felt too dark, too cold, now held warmth—two heartbeats syncing quietly in the silence.

To anyone who might’ve seen them, the sight was almost unreal. The ruthless alpha whose hands had known only violence, now holding an omega as if he were something fragile, precious—and the broken omega, finding safety in the arms of the very man he once loathed.

Entangled together, their breathing evened out, their bodies naturally fitting as though made to complete the other.

---

Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, a faint golden hue spilling across the room. The world outside was quiet, the city still half-asleep—and for once, so was Chi Cheng.

He stirred slowly, his breath steady, his body unusually relaxed. For a man whose nights were always haunted by restlessness and rage, this stillness felt foreign…almost dangerous.

The first thing he noticed was the warmth. Not the kind from the sunlight—but something softer, alive. His arm was heavy, draped over something—someone.

He blinked, his sharp gaze adjusting as the fog of sleep lifted.

Jiang Shuai.

The omega lay tucked against him, his small body curved perfectly into Chi Cheng’s chest. His hair was a soft mess against the alpha’s shirt, his breathing calm and rhythmic. Their legs were entangled, and one of Shuai’s hands still clutched the fabric of Chi Cheng’s sleeve, as if he feared the alpha would disappear in his sleep.

For a long moment, Chi Cheng didn’t move. He simply watched.

The morning light brushed over Shuai’s face, illuminating the faint traces of tears dried near his lashes, the delicate rise and fall of his chest, the slight pout of his lips. He looked…peaceful.

And for some reason, that peace stirred something deep inside Chi Cheng—something he couldn’t name.

His heartbeat, usually so steady and controlled, began to race. The sound of it filled his ears, almost too loud, almost embarrassing.

He should have pulled away. That was the logical thing to do. But his body betrayed him—instead of moving back, his fingers twitched, brushing lightly against the omega’s hair. It was soft, silken, and the touch sent a strange calm through him, even as his pulse quickened.

Chi Cheng exhaled slowly, his voice barely a whisper.

“...What are you doing to me, love…”

He swallowed hard, trying to ground himself, but the scent of the omega—warm, clean, faintly sweet—made his chest tighten. His instincts stirred, protective and dangerously possessive, the kind he’d always despised in others.

For the first time in a long while, Chi Cheng didn’t feel hollow. He felt human.

He leaned his head back against the pillow, eyes tracing the faint morning light that played across the ceiling, and let himself breathe— just once—in the peace that came with having the trembling omega asleep in his arms.

Jiang Shuai stirred, his head heavy and throbbing as if every memory from last night was pressing against his temples. His mind was a haze, the bar, the hands, the fear, the suffocating scent of too many alphas. He flinched at the recollection, his fingers curling weakly into the blanket.

Normally, mornings after such nights were the worst. He’d wake up alone, drenched in cold sweat, his chest tight with panic, the nightmares replaying again and again until he couldn’t tell if he was awake or still trapped inside one.

But today…there were no nightmares.

Only warmth.

Something — someone — was holding him. A steady heartbeat thrummed against his ear, so strong and fast it could almost rival the rhythm of his own panic. But instead of fear, a strange sense of safety wrapped around him like a cocoon.

Confused, Shuai blinked his sleepy eyes open. His gaze fell on the fabric beneath his cheek—black, smooth, and faintly smelling of cigarettes and expensive cologne. His breath caught.

That scent... he knew it.

Slowly, hesitantly, his eyes traveled upward—past the broad chest, the powerful neck, until they met the hard line of a familiar jaw and the sharp, sleeping face of Chi Cheng.

Shuai froze.

Every muscle in his body went rigid.

His mind screamed move, run, do something! but his limbs refused to obey. His heart slammed against his ribs so violently he was sure the alpha could feel it. He barely managed to shift, trying to pull away—

—but a strong arm tightened instantly around his waist.

Before he could even gasp, Chi Cheng’s deep, groggy voice rumbled low near his ear.

“Don’t move.”

The omega’s breath hitched. His cheeks burned crimson.

“C-Chi Cheng—” he began, his voice barely a whisper, but the alpha only shifted slightly, his hand sliding up to the back of Shuai’s head, pressing it gently against his chest again.

“Stay still,” Chi Cheng murmured, still half-asleep, his tone rough and low. “You’ll wake me up.”

Shuai went still, his face now buried against the alpha’s warm chest. The rhythm of Chi Cheng’s heartbeat was loud—too loud, too alive—and it echoed inside him like a secret he wasn’t supposed to hear.

The omega’s lips parted, his breath shaky. His entire body was tense, yet there was a strange flutter in his chest he couldn’t understand. Embarrassment, yes— but also something else. Something soft, foreign, and frighteningly comforting.

He wanted to protest, to tell the alpha to let him go—but the weight of that arm, the steady warmth, and the calm scent surrounding him all made his resistance melt little by little.

So he stayed there, cheeks burning, heartbeat trembling in rhythm with the man who terrified him… and yet, somehow, made him feel safe enough to fall asleep again.

The morning light seeped through the half-drawn curtains, tracing pale lines across the rumpled sheets and the faint outline of two figures sitting apart on the bed. The room was quiet—painfully quiet— the kind of silence that screamed louder than any argument could.

Jiang Shuai sat rigid at the edge of the mattress, his fingers curling over the hem of the blanket. His eyes were distant, red-rimmed from a sleepless night, while the man beside him—the alpha who had turned his world upside down —watched him with unreadable eyes.

Chi Cheng’s gaze was sharp, glinting like the edge of a blade. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, dangerous.

“What the hell were you doing there last night?”

Jiang Shuai froze, his heart lurching. The alpha’s tone carried no softness, only accusation.

“That place,” Chi Cheng continued, leaning forward, “isn’t meant for people like you. You don’t belong there.”

Shuai’s jaw tightened. His lashes trembled as he whispered, “It’s not my fault.” His voice cracked under the weight of humiliation. “It’s your fault. I was trying to find a way to save my clinic.”

At the mention of the clinic, Chi Cheng’s composure faltered for a second—just a second—before fury flared in his eyes. He stood abruptly, the movement so sudden that Jiang Shuai flinched.

“How?” Chi Cheng demanded, his voice rising, harsh and raw. “By selling yourself? Throwing your body at whoever pays the most?” His hand shot out, gripping Shuai’s wrist in a restrained but trembling hold. “Is your sense of worth really that low, Doctor?”

Tears shimmered in Jiang Shuai’s eyes, but he held his ground, his voice small yet filled with despair.

“Yes,” he said. “If it saves my clinic, I’ll do anything. The clinic is all I have—my only home, my only peace. You can’t take it away from me.”

“Enough,” Chi Cheng growled, his grip tightening.

Shuai tried to pull free, his breathing uneven. “You can’t understand! That place is my life. I’ll sell my body if I have to—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Chi Cheng’s voice thundered, his anger breaking through like a storm. His pupils dilated, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. “I’ll kill anyone who even looks at you that way.” His tone dropped, dangerously quiet. “If you were desperate, you should have come to me.”

The tears that Shuai had been holding back spilled freely now. He looked up at the alpha with trembling lips and a bitter, broken smile.

“Come to you?” His voice shook with both fury and pain. “I’d rather sell my body than beg you.”

The words struck him like a blade. Chi Cheng’s entire body went still, his chest rising and falling sharply, his hand still wrapped around Shuai’s wrist. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath— the only sound was the quick, uneven thud of two hearts beating far too fast.

Neither spoke again. The air between them pulsed with something violent, something fragile—the thin line between hate and longing that neither dared to cross.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

Chi Cheng’s hand was still at the back of his neck, his thumb pressing lightly just beneath the soft line of Jiang Shuai’s jaw. The gesture wasn’t violent this time—but it was inescapable, commanding.

“Then why,” Chi Cheng said, voice rough with restrained fury, “did you cry for help last night?”

Shuai’s breath hitched. The words cut deeper than the hold on his skin.

“If I hadn’t gone there—” Chi Cheng’s eyes darkened, a storm barely contained, “—do you even know what they would’ve done to you?”

Images of that night flashed behind Shuai’s eyes: the smoke-filled room, the hands grabbing, the laughter, the terror. His whole body trembled. He wanted to speak, to defend himself, but no words came. Only a shallow, shuddering breath.

Chi Cheng exhaled sharply, his anger collapsing into something heavier—something possessive, protective, and unbearably desperate. “If you really want to sell your body,” he said, each word slow, deliberate, “then sell it to me.”

Jiang Shuai froze. His heart stumbled in his chest, confusion and dread flooding him all at once.

“I don’t want just your body,” Chi Cheng went on, his voice dropping to a low octave that vibrated against Shuai’s skin. “Not your face, not your scent. I want you—whole.”

Shuai blinked, his lips parting, barely able to form a word. “W-what are you—”

“Marry me,” Chi Cheng interrupted, his tone final, dangerous. “Be mine, and I’ll save your clinic.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Shuai stared at him, eyes wide and wet, unsure if this was some cruel joke or another form of punishment. The alpha’s hand was still on his nape, but the grip had changed—no longer a threat, but a claim.

For a long moment, Jiang Shuai couldn’t breathe. The words marry me hung in the air, unreal, suffocating.

He blinked, his lips trembling before a weak, incredulous laugh escaped him. “You’ve lost your mind…” he whispered, eyes glistening as he looked away. “Do you even hear yourself, Chi Cheng?”

The alpha’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve never been clearer.”

Shuai stepped back, trying to break the invisible chain between them, but Chi Cheng’s fingers brushed his wrist—a touch that felt more like a lock than contact.

“Let me go,” Shuai hissed, his voice shaking. “You think I’d marry someone like you? Someone who threatens me, terrifies me—who ruins everything I’ve built?”

Chi Cheng’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

“I’m not your property,” Shuai said, each word trembling with emotion. “And I will never—ever—bind myself to an alpha like you.”

His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. He could still feel Chi Cheng’s scent clinging to him, heavy and warm, filling his lungs like poison.

The alpha’s expression shifted—something raw flickered in his eyes, a hint of hurt hidden beneath fury. “You’d rather belong to them?” he asked quietly, voice almost dangerous in its calm. “Those who looked at you like prey?”

Shuai swallowed hard, blinking away the tears threatening to spill. “I’d rather belong to no one,” he said, his tone breaking, fragile but firm. “Not even you.”

The air between them grew thick, charged with something that wasn’t just anger anymore—it was pain, longing, denial all tangled together.

Chi Cheng’s fingers finally loosened from his wrist. He stepped back, his face expressionless, but his eyes—those deep, unreadable eyes—followed every shaky breath the omega took.

“Be careful what you wish for, Jiang Shuai,” he said at last, his voice low and cold. “Freedom comes with a price you might not be ready to pay.”

And with that, he turned away, leaving Shuai alone—shaken, terrified, but more determined than ever to protect what little of his world still belonged to him.

---

Days blurred together, heavy with dread. The sound of hammers and engines filled the air outside Jiang Shuai’s clinic—the only place he’d ever called home. Dust rose as workers began tearing down the walls, piece by piece, as if ripping away the last fragments of his hope.

He ran.

His lungs burned by the time he reached Chi Cheng’s office, the towering glass building where the alpha ruled like a storm behind polished walls. Shuai burst through the doors, ignoring the startled guards, his chest heaving, tears already stinging his eyes.

“Chi Cheng—please!” he gasped, stumbling toward the man seated behind the massive desk. The alpha didn’t look up, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him as if the omega’s trembling voice was nothing but distant noise.

“I’ll do anything,” Shuai choked out, voice cracking under desperation. “Please—stop them! Don’t let them destroy it. It’s all I have left—please!”

Still, silence.

His knees hit the floor with a thud, hands clutching the edge of the desk, tears streaming freely now. “I’m begging you!” he sobbed. “I’ll do whatever you want—just please, stop them…”

That was when Chi Cheng finally moved.

The alpha stood slowly, his tall frame casting a shadow over the kneeling omega. He walked around the desk, stopping in front of Shuai, who couldn’t bring himself to lift his gaze.

A strong hand gripped his chin, forcing him to look up. Shuai’s lips parted in a broken gasp as his tearful eyes met the alpha’s unreadable ones.

Chi Cheng’s thumb brushed away a tear that slid down his cheek, the touch unexpectedly gentle. “Then marry me,” he said quietly.

The room stilled. The noise outside —the drilling, the shouting, all faded into silence.

Shuai’s breath hitched, his heart hammering so violently he thought it might burst. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All he could see was the cold finality in Chi Cheng’s gaze—a promise that wasn’t a question, but a command.

When his lips finally parted, his voice was barely a whisper.

“O-okay…”

Chi Cheng’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on Shuai’s chin as if to make sure he’d heard right. “Say it properly,” he demanded.

“I’ll marry you,” Shuai said, nodding eagerly, tears still wet on his lashes. “Just...please, save my clinic.”

Chi Cheng’s thumb brushed over his trembling bottom lip before he released him, straightening with a satisfied exhale.

“Good,” he murmured, turning back toward his desk. “Prepare yourself, Jiang Shuai. From this moment on, you belong to me.”

Shuai sat frozen on the cold marble floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The reality of his words sank deep—the weight of the decision that had just sealed his fate.

He had saved his clinic.

But in doing so…he had sold his freedom.

---

The days after Jiang Shuai’s reluctant agreement passed in a blur.

Chi Cheng didn’t waste a second. The wedding date was fixed— coldly, efficiently, without any emotion. No family gatherings, no public announcements, no whispers of romance. Everything about it felt transactional…because it was.

And yet, the world around Shuai spun too fast for him to breathe.

He stood in stunned silence as luxury after luxury arrived at his tiny apartment—expensive suits, delicate fabrics, jewelry boxes worth more than his entire clinic. All with neat little cards bearing Chi Cheng’s sharp handwriting.

“For my Omega.”

Shuai’s chest tightened every time he read those words.

He hadn’t even been asked for his size—somehow, Chi Cheng already knew. The suits fit perfectly, as if the alpha had memorized every inch of his frame that night he’d held him trembling in his arms.

He should’ve felt grateful.

Instead, he felt…trapped.

Chi Cheng, meanwhile, didn’t even bother to tell his parents about the marriage. When his assistant nervously suggested it, Chi Cheng had only given him a cold look.

 “This is between me and him. My parents don’t need to interfere.”

To him, it wasn’t a family celebration—it was a deal sealed by instinct and possession.

On one such day, Shuai found himself standing awkwardly inside one of the grand boutiques Chi Cheng had dragged him to. Mirrors surrounded him, reflecting the pure white suit he wore—one that made him look fragile, almost angelic.

Chi Cheng sat lazily on the couch behind him, legs crossed, one hand on his chin, watching him with a gaze that was both unreadable and intense.

“Turn around,” Chi Cheng ordered.

Shuai hesitated but obeyed, his reflection catching the deep crimson tie Chi Cheng had chosen for himself—a bold contrast to Shuai’s pale tones. The Alpha stood and walked toward him, each step deliberate, until Shuai could feel the warmth of his breath against his neck.

Chi Cheng’s fingers brushed the lapel of the omega’s suit, adjusting it lightly before murmuring,

 “Perfect. You look like mine now.”

Shuai’s cheeks flushed, his breath catching as he whispered, “You didn’t even tell your family…”

Chi Cheng’s eyes flicked up, his expression hard.

“I don’t need anyone’s approval to marry you.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice until it rumbled against Shuai’s ear.

“You agreed to be mine, Jiang Shuai. I’ll handle everything. You just…wear what I give you and stay beside me.”

Shuai’s throat tightened as he stared at their reflections in the mirror—the tall, commanding alpha behind him, and the trembling omega in white before him.

It looked like a perfect match…

But deep down, it felt more like a beautiful cage.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov: 

The world outside the wedding hall was wrapped in gold—silk drapes fluttering in the breeze, white lilies adorning the altar, and the faint hum of music echoing through the grand space. But inside the groom’s waiting room, the air was heavy…suffocating.

Jiang Shuai stood by the large window, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted the cuffs of his snow-white suit. His reflection stared back at him l—pale skin, tired eyes, and a heart that wouldn’t stop pounding. He looked like a man walking toward his own fate, not a groom.

And then, the door burst open.

“Shuai!”

Cheng Yu’s voice cracked with desperation as he stepped inside. His hair was disheveled, his chest heaving like he had run all the way from the edge of the world just to get here. His eyes—red, wild, broken—found the trembling omega instantly.

Jiang Shuai froze. The sound of Cheng Yu’s voice alone was enough to shake him to his core.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Shuai whispered, voice barely audible.

Cheng Yu took a step closer, his hands clenched.

“Why do you think? To stop this madness!” he shouted, the sound echoing off the marble walls. “You can’t marry him, Shuai! You don’t love him—you love me!”

The omega’s throat tightened. His eyes dropped, unable to meet Cheng Yu’s pleading gaze. “I… I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Cheng Yu’s tone softened, breaking apart as he came closer, his voice trembling with pain. “You don’t understand what this will do to you. He’ll cage you, Shuai. He already has! Look at you, you’re shaking!”

Shuai’s lips quivered. He wanted to scream that he knew, that every word Cheng Yu spoke was true. That Chi Cheng’s shadow already clung to his skin like chains. But behind that fear was something deeper—helplessness.

He whispered, “He’s the only one who can save my clinic… I have no choice.”

Cheng Yu’s heart shattered at the words. He moved closer, so close that Shuai could feel his warmth, his pain. Tears brimmed in Cheng Yu’s eyes as he reached out, holding Shuai’s face between his trembling hands.

“Then let it go! We’ll figure something out together,” he begged, his voice cracking. “I can help you, Shuai. I don’t have money like him, but I have you— and that’s enough for me. Please…just say no. Come with me.”

Jiang Shuai’s eyes filled with tears, his body trembling as his fingers clutched the fabric of Cheng Yu’s shirt. His voice broke, fragile and soaked in guilt.

“Don’t make it harder for me… please, Cheng Yu.”

The alpha’s breath hitched. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Shuai’s, whispering like a man praying,

“Then tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll walk away.”

Shuai’s lips parted, but no words came. His tears fell silently, betraying him.

And in that moment, the door opened again—the sound of heavy footsteps, cold and deliberate.

Chi Cheng stood there.

Tall, composed, dressed in a black suit that matched the darkness in his eyes. His jaw tightened as his gaze fell on the sight before him— his omega in another man’s arms. The muscles in his neck tensed, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

For a moment, no one breathed.

Cheng Yu turned, rage flashing in his eyes. “You—”

But before he could speak, Chi Cheng’s voice sliced through the room like a blade.

“Step away from him.”

It wasn’t loud, but it carried enough venom to silence the air itself.

Shuai stumbled back, caught between both alphas—one representing love, the other control. His heart was breaking, but the world had already decided for him.

Chi Cheng walked forward slowly, eyes locked on Cheng Yu. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he said coldly. “He made his choice.”

Cheng Yu clenched his jaw, tears glimmering. “No. You forced him.”

Chi Cheng smirked faintly, though the flicker of pain in his eyes betrayed something deeper. “Maybe. But he’s still mine now.”

His hand reached for Shuai’s wrist, gripping it possessively as he pulled the trembling omega toward him.

Shuai gasped softly, glancing one last time at Cheng Yu—his first real friend, his first love—before lowering his head in silent surrender.

And Cheng Yu, standing there in his heartbreak, could only watch as the doors closed behind them— shutting away everything that could have been.

Before Shuai could even exhale, strong fingers clamped around his face, the cold wall hitting his back with a soft thud. His breath caught in his throat.

Chi Cheng’s hand tilted his chin upward, the grip firm but not bruising, not yet. His eyes, usually unreadable, burned crimson in the dim light. It was the first time Shuai had seen anything human flicker in them, even if that something was fury.

His voice was low, rough—the kind that could make a room fall silent.

 “You think I’ll let you look at him like that again?”

Shuai froze, his trembling hands pressed weakly against the alpha’s chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall beneath his palm.

“Ch–Chi Cheng…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “He just wanted to talk—”

“Talk?” Chi Cheng’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as his thumb brushed the corner of Shuai’s lips, a slow, dangerous motion. “You let him touch you. You let him come this close.”

His voice cracked slightly at the last word—a strange mix of rage and something that almost sounded like pain.

Shuai swallowed, his lashes damp. “He’s my friend—”

Chi Cheng slammed his palm on the wall beside Shuai’s head, the sound echoing through the room. The omega flinched, his heart hammering.

“Friends don’t hold what’s mine,” Chi Cheng hissed. “Do you understand that, Jiang Shuai? You’re mine now—whether this marriage is for a day or a lifetime.”

Tears welled in Shuai’s eyes, his lips trembling as he tried to look away. “You’re hurting me…”

For a second, something flickered in Chi Cheng’s gaze—regret, guilt, a softening he quickly strangled before it could show. His hand loosened. He exhaled sharply, pulling back a step as if fighting with himself.

“Don’t make me lose control again,” he muttered, voice lower now, dangerous in its restraint. “Because if you do…I won’t stop next time.”

Shuai stood there against the wall, breathing unevenly, tears glistening under the light.

And as Chi Cheng turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands clenched at his sides, he realized that he wasn’t angry because of pride.

He was angry because he cared.

The hall was bathed in muted gold and ivory—elegant, solemn, and suffocating. The scent of fresh lilies hung heavy in the air, yet to Jiang Shuai, every breath felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

He stood at the entrance, dressed in a simple white suit chosen by Chi Cheng himself. The fabric was too fine, too expensive—too foreign for someone like him. His fingers trembled as he clutched the small bouquet, knuckles whitening.

Every step he took down the aisle echoed in the silence. Every beat of his heart screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

People whispered, smiled, watched —yet none of them knew that this wasn’t a fairytale wedding. This was a trade. His freedom for his clinic. His peace for a name.

And waiting at the end of that aisle —tall, sharp, unreadable—stood Chi Cheng.

The groom.

The man who both terrified and saved him.

Chi Cheng’s dark suit fit him perfectly, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. Yet his gaze never once left Shuai, steady, piercing, burning holes through the distance between them.

Shuai’s knees almost gave out under that stare. His throat was dry. His vision blurred.

All he could see was him.

Halfway down the aisle, Shuai’s eyes flickered and for a brief second, he saw Cheng Yu standing near the last row, hidden behind the guests. His eyes glistened, jaw tight, expression carved with heartbreak.

The bouquet trembled in Shuai’s hands. He almost stopped walking.

But then Chi Cheng’s gaze darkened—a silent command.

Keep walking.

And he did. Because he had no choice.

When he finally reached the altar, Chi Cheng extended his hand— large, veined, strong. Shuai hesitated, looking up at the alpha who had turned his world upside down.

Their fingers brushed. Chi Cheng’s hand closed around his, firm, unyielding, but not cruel.

“You’re trembling,” Chi Cheng murmured under his breath, low enough that only Shuai could hear.

“Because I’m scared,” Shuai whispered back.

Something flickered in Chi Cheng’s eyes then—the faintest softness, quickly buried.

As the vows began, Shuai couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere but down. The world blurred around him, voices fading into white noise. All he could hear was the steady rhythm of Chi Cheng’s heartbeat —calm, powerful, and frighteningly close.

When it was time to seal the vows, Chi Cheng leaned in, his lips barely brushing Shuai’s forehead instead of his lips—a gesture that silenced the whispers around them.

And for the first time since the chaos began, Shuai realized—this marriage might have started as a cage, but Chi Cheng’s touch, even when rough, held something dangerously close to care.

Chi Cheng didn’t wait for the guests, didn’t turn when people called his name or tried to congratulate him. His expression was stone-cold, his grip firm as he pulled Jiang Shuai along.

The omega barely managed to keep up, his soft shoes clicking against the marble floor, head lowered to avoid the eyes that followed them. To everyone else, he looked like a beautiful accessory —fragile, obedient, dressed in white that only made his trembling more visible.

The back car waited outside. Chi Cheng opened the door without a word and gestured for Shuai to enter. The omega obeyed silently, lowering himself into the seat. A second later, the door slammed shut and the car rolled forward.

Silence.

Only the faint hum of the engine filled the air.

Jiang Shuai’s fingers clutched his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. He stared down at the blank screen, pretending he wasn’t on the verge of breaking down. His reflection on the glass window looked small, lost—like a ghost wearing someone else’s smile.

He could feel Chi Cheng’s presence beside him, heavy and suffocating. The alpha’s cologne mingled with the faint scent of smoke and something darker— dominance. Authority. It wrapped around Shuai like invisible chains.

His heart thudded so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. He bit his lip hard, refusing to let his tears fall. He didn’t want to cry again. Not today. Not in front of him.

Chi Cheng sat still, one hand resting on his thigh, the other tapping against the door. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused straight ahead—but every few seconds, his gaze flicked toward Shuai. Quietly. Secretly.

He could see the way the omega trembled, the way his shoulders rose and fell with uneven breaths. Something inside him twisted, but he ignored it, forcing his expression to stay cold.

---

The mansion was larger than Jiang Shuai had ever imagined.

Cold marble floors, chandeliers glittering like frozen stars— beautiful, but lifeless. The air itself felt heavy, as if it carried the weight of too many secrets.

When they arrived, Chi Cheng didn’t speak a word. He only handed his coat to a servant and left again without even looking at Shuai.

The maids, silent and efficient, led him up the long staircase to the top floor. Their eyes never met his— they bowed, opened the door to what was now his room, and quietly withdrew.

But Shuai knew. This wasn’t his room. It was Chi Cheng’s.

He stood there for a long time, staring at the king-sized bed draped in dark silk sheets, the faint scent of smoke and leather lingering in the air—his scent. The walls, the furniture, even the shadows seemed to belong to him. There was no trace of warmth. No sign of welcome.

Shuai’s hands trembled as he touched the collar of his white suit. The fabric was soft, expensive—a symbol of purity. But as he looked down at himself, all he could feel was nausea.

The white wasn’t purity.

It was mockery.

A cruel reminder that he had sold himself—not for love, not for desire —but for desperation. For his clinic. For the only place that had ever felt like home.

He undressed quietly, folding the jacket and shirt with trembling hands, placing them on the chair by the vanity. The pale skin of his shoulders glowed faintly under the golden light. He caught sight of himself in the mirror—small, fragile, his eyes red and swollen.

This is the price of survival.

He sank to the edge of the bed, fingers knotting in the sheets. Every sound, the ticking clock, the rustle of curtains, the distant thunder— echoed too loudly in the silence.

Anxiety clawed at his chest.

What if Chi Cheng came back tonight?

What if he demanded what was now “his”?

His breathing quickened. He curled inward, wrapping his arms around himself like a frightened child. The silk sheets were too cold, the bed too large, the air too still.

Tears blurred his vision as he pressed his face into his knees.

He wanted to sleep, but his body refused.

He wanted to scream, but his voice was gone.

And somewhere deep inside, a quiet realization struck him—

He wasn’t wearing white anymore.

He had become the stain beneath it.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The mansion was dark when Chi Cheng returned.

Only the faint hum of the night lights filled the vast hallways, and the echo of his heavy steps broke the silence.

The scent of alcohol clung to him— strong, bitter, expensive. His tie hung loose, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his hair disheveled from the night’s chaos. He had drunk enough to drown every thought, yet none of them had truly left him.

He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the doorframe. A dry laugh escaped him—humorless, sharp.

Then his gaze fell toward the couch, curled up on the couch, was Jiang Shuai.

The omega was fast asleep, knees drawn to his chest, his white shirt wrinkled, his hair a soft mess falling over his pale face. The faint lamplight brushed his cheeks, highlighting the exhaustion beneath his long lashes.

Chi Cheng froze. For a long moment, he simply stood there— staring.

A scoff broke the silence.

He almost forgot.

He was married now.

The word itself felt foreign on his tongue. Married. He didn’t even believe in it. And yet, there he was —an omega sleeping in his house, wearing his ring, breathing softly like he belonged there.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly, the faint ache of his temples pulsing with the alcohol.

What was this?

A deal. That’s all.

Just a deal.

And yet...he found himself walking closer.

Each step was slow, measured, as though the sound of his shoes might wake him. But when he reached the couch, his chest felt strangely heavy. He looked down— at the small, fragile figure who had traded his freedom for survival— and for the first time that night, the noise in his mind quieted.

A strand of hair had fallen over Shuai’s face. Without realizing it, Chi Cheng reached out and brushed it aside. The skin beneath his fingers was warm. Too warm.

He stared at his hand, confused by his own softness, by the way his heart thudded once—hard, deliberate.

Then he scoffed again, shaking his head.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. So he sank onto the ned, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the sleeping omega —his doctor, his ruin, his unwanted comfort.

Outside, the rain began to fall, soft, steady—as the night held them in a fragile, uneasy peace.

---

The first rays of dawn slipped through the tall windows, spilling pale gold over the living room.

Jiang Shuai stirred, his fingers twitching against the couch fabric. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was—the faint scent of cologne and alcohol in the air making his heart race. Then it hit him.

The mansion. The wedding. Him.

He jolted upright, eyes wide, breath catching in his throat. The blanket that had been draped loosely over him slid down to the floor. He didn’t remember putting it there.

“Did he…”

He bit his lip, shaking the thought away before it could take shape.

His body felt stiff from sleeping curled up, so he stretched slightly, rubbing his eyes. The living room was silent—too silent—and when he glanced around, there was no sign of Chi Cheng. The relief that flooded him was immediate, almost guilty.

At least he didn’t have to face him. Not yet.

He rose quietly, the hem of his shirt brushing against his thighs, and hurried upstairs to the restroom. The mirror reflected tired eyes, hair tousled from sleep, and the faint puffiness that came from holding back tears too long. He splashed cold water on his face, again and again, until the chill made his skin sting and his thoughts clear.

Pull yourself together, Shuai.

He inhaled deeply, forcing a small, shaky smile at his reflection.

He couldn’t afford to look weak— not in front of a man like Chi Cheng.

By the time he changed and stepped out, the mansion had come alive with faint morning sounds—footsteps, clinking dishes from the kitchen, the soft murmur of staff greeting one another.

Jiang Shuai hesitated at the top of the stairs, fingers tightening on the railing. His heart beat faster for reasons he didn’t want to name.

He didn’t know what awaited him downstairs—indifference, coldness, or something worse—but for now, the air smelled faintly of coffee and the soft morning light painted everything in a calm that almost felt unreal.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time since yesterday, he felt like he could breathe again.

---

Jiang Shuai’s heart nearly stopped the moment his gaze fell on the figure seated at the dining table.

Chi Cheng.

He sat there in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, eyes lowered to the file he was reading while casually sipping his coffee—as if last night hadn’t even happened. The calm in his demeanor made Shuai’s stomach twist.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected—maybe anger, maybe coldness—but not this unnerving normalcy.

The faint sound of his own footsteps against the marble floor made him wince. Chi Cheng’s head lifted at once, sharp eyes meeting his.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke.

Shuai froze by the dining room entrance, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt. “G-good morning…” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chi Cheng didn’t answer immediately. His gaze swept over Shuai, the freshly washed hair still damp at the ends, the pale shirt that hung slightly loose on his small frame, the faint redness still shadowing his eyes from last night.

Something in Chi Cheng’s chest stirred, but he masked it well. He set the file down, leaned back in his chair, and said in a voice smooth yet firm,

“Sit. Eat.”

Shuai blinked, startled. “I—I’m not hungry—”

“Sit,” Chi Cheng repeated, this time with that quiet authority that didn’t need to be raised.

His tone left no room for refusal.

Shuai hesitated, then slowly moved to the chair opposite him. The maid placed a plate before him, omelette, toast, and a glass of orange juice—but the sight only made his stomach tighten. He picked at the bread, too aware of the man sitting across from him.

Chi Cheng’s gaze flicked up briefly. “You didn’t sleep in the bed,” he said suddenly.

Shuai froze, eyes darting up in shock. “W-what?”

“You slept on the couch,” Chi Cheng said casually, returning to his coffee. “Why?”

Heat rushed to Shuai’s cheeks. “I… didn’t want to intrude. I thought you wouldn’t like it if—”

“I didn’t ask what you thought.”

The words were cold, clipped, yet beneath them was something Shuai couldn’t quite place—irritation, maybe, or something more restrained.

He looked down, blinking away the sting in his eyes. Silence stretched again, heavy and suffocating.

After a long moment, Chi Cheng sighed quietly, setting his cup aside. “From now on,” he said, his tone softer but still commanding, “you’ll stay here. You’ll do what I say. And you’ll never sleep on that couch again. Do you understand?”

Shuai nodded quickly, his voice caught somewhere in his throat. “Y-yes.”

Chi Cheng looked at him for another second long enough to see the nervous twitch in his fingers— before rising from his seat. “Good.”

As he walked past him, the faint scent of his cologne lingered, rich and intoxicating. Shuai sat frozen, staring at the untouched breakfast, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

For some reason, Chi Cheng’s last words replayed in his mind, echoing with something dangerously close to possession.

Never sleep on that couch again.

---

A week passed in silence.

Every morning, Jiang Shuai would wake before the Alpha stirred and quietly disappear to the garden, sipping his tea near the farthest corner where sunlight could touch him but Chi Cheng’s gaze could not. During the day, he busied himself with the maids, rearranging books in the library, sketching plans for a clinic that no longer existed— anything to keep himself occupied and unseen.

He’d hear the faint sound of Chi Cheng’s footsteps in the hallway sometimes, heavy and certain. Each time, his heart would jump, and he’d turn quickly, pretending to find something fascinating in the nearest flower pot.

Chi Cheng had noticed.

At first, he shrugged it off. Let the Omega have his space, he told himself. It’s better this way. He didn’t have the patience for clinginess, and Jiang Shuai wasn’t the type to beg for attention anyway.

But by the seventh night, the silence had started to crawl under his skin.

He’d return from work, loosen his tie, and find the dining table neatly set—his meal waiting, the seat across from him always empty. His bedroom, once cold and still, smelled faintly of the Omega’s scent…but Shuai was never there.

Something about that absence began to irritate him—and then, to disturb him.

That night, Chi Cheng found him in the corridor, fumbling with a tray of tea. Shuai startled when the Alpha’s tall frame blocked his path.

Before he could finish, Chi Cheng’s hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist and pulling him closer.

The tray rattled. A teacup nearly fell.

“Don’t stay away from me,” Chi Cheng said, his voice low, rough — too close. His breath carried the faint scent of whiskey and something darker, something primal. “I’m your husband.”

Shuai froze. His pulse quickened beneath the Alpha’s grip, but he didn’t dare look up. “You—you were busy… I didn’t want to disturb—”

Chi Cheng scoffed, leaning down until his breath brushed Shuai’s ear. “You live under my roof. You bear my name. And yet you act like I’m a stranger in my own house.”

Shuai’s voice trembled. “I am a stranger.”

That made Chi Cheng’s jaw tighten. For a long second, he said nothing, just stared at the Omega’s downcast eyes, the soft defiance trembling at the corner of his lips.

Then, instead of anger, a low laugh escaped him — sharp and humorless. “Stranger, huh?”

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

“Strangers, huh?”

Chi Cheng’s voice was low—too calm, too dangerous. Each word carried the quiet weight of restrained dominance as he stepped closer, the scent of his pheromones thickening around them like smoke.

Shuai backed up instinctively until his back hit the wall. His breath hitched, eyes flicking up to meet Cheng’s—only to find that familiar sharp gaze studying him with unsettling intensity. The air between them turned heavy, charged, the kind that made Shuai’s heart pound faster no matter how much he wanted to seem unaffected.

Chi Cheng leaned in, close enough that Shuai could see the faint bruises on his knuckles, the tension carved into his jaw. His hand came up slowly, fingers brushing against Shuai’s cheek, not tenderly, but possessively, before sliding upward. Then, in one fluid motion, he plucked the thin-framed glasses from the omega’s face.

Shuai gasped. “H-Hey— give them back!” He reached for them, but Chi Cheng simply held them out of reach, his lips curving faintly, almost teasingly.

Without the glasses, Shuai’s eyes were fully revealed—wide, almond-shaped, glistening under the light. They were beautiful, too beautiful, and Cheng’s breath caught before he could stop himself.

He tilted his head slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that brushed against Shuai’s ear.

“I’m your husband now,” he murmured, the words heavy and deliberate. “At least treat me with respect.”

Shuai froze, his lips parting. Then, slowly, his brows furrowed, and he huffed, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest despite the closeness between them.

“I don’t consider you one,” he said firmly, his tone soft but defiant. “I’ve never thought of getting a husband like you.”

Chi Cheng’s smirk faltered for the briefest second. The defiance in her voice—quiet yet unwavering—sparked something deep within him, something that both irritated and fascinated him.

He leaned even closer, until their breaths mingled.

“Careful with your words, omega,” he said softly, though there was a dark amusement in his eyes. “You might make your husband angry.”

But Shuai didn’t back down this time. His chin lifted just slightly, his trembling replaced by quiet resistance.

“Then be angry,” he whispered. “You already scare me. What’s one more reason?”

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The silence between them pulsed— fragile, dangerous, intimate.

Chi Cheng stared at him, the edge in his gaze softening, his thumb unconsciously brushing the frame of the glasses he still held.

“Stubborn little thing,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.

Shuai glared up at him, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Give me my glasses back,” he demanded, his voice trembling between irritation and unease.

Chi Cheng only smirked, twirling the glasses lazily between his fingers, the metal glinting under the dim light. He looked down at the omega—those pretty, unguarded eyes staring up at him—and his smirk deepened.

“First,” he said, his tone slow and edged with challenge, “say please, Alpha.”

Shuai’s jaw tightened. “What? No way.” He folded his arms, rolling his eyes in open defiance. “You’re unbelievable.”

He reached out quickly, trying to snatch the glasses from Cheng’s hand, but the alpha was faster. In one smooth movement, Chi Cheng caught Shuai’s wrist and spun him around, pressing him gently but firmly against the wall.

The omega gasped, his free hand splaying against the cold surface for balance. Before he could react, Cheng’s other hand caught his remaining wrist, pinning both above his head. The closeness was suffocating—Shuai could feel the warmth radiating from the alpha’s body, the faint brush of his breath near his temple.

“Still not going to say it?” Chi Cheng murmured, voice low and taunting.

Shuai tried to twist away, but Cheng’s grip only tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who held the control. The tension between them thickened, the air crackling like static.

“Let go…” Shuai whispered, his voice softer now, though it lacked conviction. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat loud enough to echo in his ears.

Chi Cheng leaned in closer, his lips stopping just beside Shuai’s ear. “Say it,” he murmured, his tone dark, teasing—and far too intimate. “Just once.”

Shuai swallowed hard, refusing to look at him. His breath came out uneven, a mix of anger and something he didn’t want to name. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, still struggling lightly, his cheeks flushed.

Chi Cheng only chuckled—a low, rough sound that vibrated against Shuai’s skin.

“Maybe,” he said softly, eyes flicking over the omega’s face. “But you’ll learn that your stubbornness won’t work on me.”

“Oh really?” Shuai shot back, his voice low but laced with quiet fire. His wrists were still pinned above his head, but the flicker in his eyes was no longer fear—it was defiance, glimmering beneath the trembling lashes. “Then I’ll make you bend to my will soon.”

For a heartbeat, Chi Cheng just stared at him—stunned, then amused. His lips curled into a scoff, sharp and dangerous, though his eyes softened almost imperceptibly.

“Bend to your will?” he repeated, his tone mocking as a low chuckle escaped him. “Even my mother couldn’t do that, omega.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing Shuai’s cheek, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Who do you think you are?”

Shuai’s lips curved into a small, disarming smile—sweet, mischievous, yet breathtakingly confident. The kind that made the alpha momentarily forget how to breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he said simply, his voice soft but sure.

Chi Cheng froze.

The words hung between them, warm and daring, sinking into the tension like a spark dropped into gasoline. His fingers loosened unconsciously around Shuai’s wrists, and for the first time, the alpha was the one caught off guard —his composure cracking as he looked down at the omega who dared to challenge him and claim him in the same breath.

Shuai’s smile deepened at the sight of his surprise. “And that,” he whispered, his tone teasing, “means you’ll listen to me sooner or later.”

Chi Cheng huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and fascination. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that,” he muttered, releasing Shuai’s wrists but keeping him close, far too close.

“Then you’d better get used to it, Alpha,” Shuai said softly, straightening his clothes and meeting his gaze again, that same spark dancing in his eyes.

Chi Cheng froze.

Jiang Shuai’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, delicate but firm. Their eyes met—and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to still. Shuai’s breath trembled, but his gaze didn’t waver.

“These are mine,” he said quietly.

Before Chi Cheng could react, Shuai leaned forward, slipping the glasses from his hand. Their fingertips brushed—a spark so small and yet it seared through both of them.

And then, without a second of hesitation, Jiang Shuai turned on his heel and ran out of the room.

Chi Cheng blinked, stunned, watching as the Omega’s soft laughter echoed down the hallway —light, musical, alive.

For the first time in days, his lips parted in disbelief, the faintest curve of a smile threatening to form.

He lifted his hand, staring at the spot where Shuai had touched him, and whispered under his breath— almost as if the air had stolen his composure completely:

“What are you doing to me…?”

And Chi Cheng, for all his dominance and pride, found himself smirking despite the heat creeping into his chest — because for the first time in his life, someone had managed to stand toe to toe with him…and win without even trying.

---

The club was drenched in noise— bass heavy, lights flickering like electric storms across velvet walls. Smoke hung thick in the air, curling between expensive bottles and careless laughter.

Chi Cheng sat in the farthest corner of the VIP section, one hand resting on the table, the other wrapped around a half-empty glass of whiskey. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows. The gold watch on his wrist caught the strobe light, but his eyes—cold, distant—didn’t reflect a single spark of amusement.

He didn’t want to be here.

“Can you believe it?” one of his friends—a tall, cocky Alpha named Ren—chuckled, slapping the table. “Chi Cheng, the great untouchable Alpha, married like some obedient traditionalist!”

The others burst into laughter, raising their glasses. Someone poured more whiskey into Chi Cheng’s glass, but he didn’t even glance up.

“Come on,” another said, leaning in. “You can’t tell me you actually like living with an Omega. They’re needy. Emotional. You must be bored out of your mind.”

A smirk passed between them before one of them snapped his fingers at the club’s hostess. Within moments, an Omega— young, painted lips, glassy-eyed— was guided Infront of him.

“Here, brother,” Ren teased. “A gift to remind you what freedom feels like.”

Chi Cheng’s jaw twitched. He didn’t even spare the Omega a glance. He simply muttered, low enough to cut through the music—

 “I’m married.”

For a heartbeat, the table fell silent. Then laughter erupted again.

“Oh come on, Cheng,” someone said, clinking glasses. “Marriage isn’t a life sentence. You can still have fun—”

Another voice joined in, sly and careless, “Unless that doctor of yours keeps you too busy. What was his name again? Jiang… something?”

“Jiang Shuai,” Ren supplied with a grin. “Heard he’s beautiful. Bet he knows how to keep his Alpha pleased, huh?”

That was the last thing anyone said before the sound of shattering glass cut through the noise.

The laughter died instantly.

Chi Cheng’s hand, still gripping the stem of the broken glass, dripped blood onto the table. His other hand was wrapped tightly around Ren’s throat, forcing the Alpha back into his seat.

“Say his name again,” Chi Cheng growled, voice low and venomous, “and I’ll make sure you never speak another word.”

Ren’s face turned red, his smirk faltering into panic as Chi Cheng’s grip tightened. The entire booth had gone silent; even the music seemed to fade into the background hum of fear.

Chi Cheng’s eyes—dark, wild, and burning with something that wasn’t just anger—pinned him in place.

“You don’t talk about my Omega like that,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not him. Not ever.”

He released him abruptly, pushing him back with enough force to make the table shake. The Alpha coughed violently, clutching his neck, while everyone else stared— stunned, unsure whether to move or breathe.

Chi Cheng stood, blood still dripping from his palm, and threw his coat over his shoulder.

“Next time,” he muttered, voice razor-sharp, “remember your place.”

Then he walked out—the club’s lights flashing across his retreating figure, a trail of crimson drops marking each step he took.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov : 

The mansion was cloaked in silence. Only the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway echoed through the wide marble corridors.

Jiang Shuai had already settled on the couch, knees drawn close, a thin blanket draped over his shoulders. The room was dim— only the soft orange glow of the side lamp touched his face. Sleep hovered near, heavy and fragile, when the sharp creak of the door jolted him awake.

The door burst open.

Chi Cheng stepped in, the smell of smoke and whiskey clinging to him like a second skin. His jacket was half-off, one sleeve hanging loose as he yanked it away and tossed it onto a chair. The top buttons of his black shirt were undone, exposing the hard line of his collarbone, the faint shimmer of sweat along his throat.

Jiang Shuai blinked once, eyes narrowing in mild annoyance at the disturbance. But then—

He saw it.

A smear of red.

Dripping down Chi Cheng’s knuckles.

His heart stilled.

He sat up quickly, the blanket pooling at his waist.

“Chi Cheng…your hand—”

The Alpha didn’t respond. He walked in slow, heavy steps toward the dresser, as if the entire world were made of fog and fury. The tension in his shoulders was visible even through the fabric. He reached for the decanter, poured himself a drink with his uninjured hand, the other still bleeding quietly.

“Chi Cheng!” Shuai stood, the worry clear in his voice now. “You’re bleeding—what happened?”

Chi Cheng finally looked at him.

His eyes—dark, wild, still burning from the chaos of the club—met Shuai’s startled gaze. For a moment, the silence was suffocating.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, taking a long sip, the glass trembling slightly between his fingers.

“Nothing?!” Shuai hurried toward him, his bare feet silent against the floor. “You’re hurt—sit down, I’ll get the first-aid kit—”

He reached for Chi Cheng’s wrist, but the Alpha caught his hand instead, stopping him mid-movement. Their eyes locked.

The air turned thick.

Chi Cheng’s voice came out low, rough, like a growl restrained only by will.

“Don’t look at my hand. Don’t ask.”

“Then at least let me—”

“I said don’t.”

The final word cracked through the quiet, but it wasn’t anger that made Jiang Shuai’s chest tighten —it was the tremor underneath it. The kind that came from someone who had fought too hard, too long, for something they didn’t want to name.

Shuai’s lips parted, but no words came out.

His eyes flicked from the Alpha’s bleeding hand to his face—the faint bruise on his jaw, the tension in his throat.

“…You fought again,” he whispered.

Chi Cheng didn’t deny it.

He just stared at him—this small, stubborn Omega standing in front of him in the dim light, and something unsteady passed through his chest.

Finally, Chi Cheng released his wrist and turned away. “Go back to sleep,” he said, voice quieter now, almost hoarse.

But as he moved toward the balcony, Jiang Shuai caught his arm once more.

“Why do you always bleed...for me?”

The question froze him.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The night air slipped through the half-open window, carrying the faint scent of rain and the sweet trace of the Omega’s scent—the same scent that had driven Chi Cheng mad at the club.

Without turning, Chi Cheng muttered, almost to himself,

 “Because no one else should even think about touching what’s mine.”

Jiang Shuai hesitated for only a second before he walked toward him—quiet steps, steady despite the storm inside him.

Chi Cheng stood near the balcony, the dim city lights outlining the sharp curve of his jaw, the lines of tension in his back. His shirt was slightly open, his broad shoulders tense as if bracing against the world.

Shuai reached out, his hand trembling, fingers brushing over the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Chi Cheng,” he murmured softly, “stop acting like this.”

The Alpha didn’t move. Shuai’s voice grew firmer, almost pleading.

“Don’t argue with me. Let me treat your hand before it gets infected.”

He stepped closer, his small frame pressed just enough to reach for Chi Cheng’s injured hand. But before his fingers could fully wrap around it, Chi Cheng jerked it back sharply.

His deep voice cut through the silence.

“Being a doctor doesn’t mean you have to treat every wound, Jiang Shuai.”

The words were cold—but his eyes weren’t. They burned, conflicted, a storm of pride and guilt hidden behind his rough tone.

Shuai frowned, refusing to back down. “You’re bleeding, Chi Cheng. You think pretending to be strong will stop the pain?”

Chi Cheng’s jaw clenched. “I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t care if you’ve had worse.” Shuai’s tone rose, unexpected, his Omega scent trembling in the air with frustration. “You bleed, you break, you bruise —you’re human. You act like you don’t need anyone, but you do.”

Chi Cheng turned to face him then, the movement slow, deliberate. Their faces were inches apart.

For a heartbeat, the world went still. The sound of the city vanished, leaving only the faint thud of two hearts—one too guarded, one too soft.

Chi Cheng looked down at the small hand still reaching for his. His voice dropped low, almost a whisper now.

“You don’t understand, Shuai…I don’t want you to see the kind of man I really am.”

Shuai’s chest tightened. His fingers, trembling but determined, closed around Chi Cheng’s wrist.

“Then let me see. Because whether you like it or not, I already have.”

Chi Cheng froze. His resistance faltered—just for a second—and that was all it took.

Shuai gently pulled his injured hand forward. The blood had dried at the knuckles, the skin raw and split. With careful movements, the Omega guided him toward the bed, pushing him down by the shoulder until the Alpha sat, silent but watching.

As Shuai knelt in front of him, dabbing softly with antiseptic, the faint sting of alcohol made Chi Cheng hiss.

Shuai’s voice came out barely above a whisper.

“You keep hurting yourself…and I always end up being the reason.”

Chi Cheng tilted his head, his gaze softening despite himself.

 “Because you’re the one who makes me lose control, doctor.”

Shuai looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes conflicted and for a brief moment, neither moved.

Jiang Shuai stood up after finishing the last bandage, wiping his hands with a cloth, determined to retreat to the couch before the air between them grew any thicker.

But before he could take a step—his wrist was seized.

A sharp tug.

The next thing he knew, the world tilted, and he fell right into Chi Cheng’s lap.

A startled gasp left his lips, his palms braced against the Alpha’s hard chest to steady himself. He could feel the heat beneath his fingers—the warmth of muscle and heartbeat that pulsed too strong, too fast.

“Chi—Chi Cheng!” he stammered, his voice trembling. His face flamed red all the way to his ears. “Let me go—what do you think you’re—”

Chi Cheng’s arm circled his waist, keeping him in place with infuriating ease. His injured hand remained still, resting against Shuai’s back, while his good hand tightened slightly, the weight of his dominance pressing into the small of the Omega’s spine.

A faint smirk played at the corner of his lips.

 “You move too much, doctor,” he murmured, his voice low, rough with something dangerous and unreadable.

Shuai squirmed, avoiding his gaze. “I forgot that you’re still the jerk—and pervert—you’ve always been.”

That made Chi Cheng chuckle, deep and unrestrained. The sound rumbled through his chest, vibrating against Shuai’s palms.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, leaning in just enough for Shuai to feel his breath near his ear, “but I remember someone holding my hand all night not to make me leave.”

Shuai’s breath hitched, and his whole body stilled.

He tried to speak—deny it, protest, something—but the words caught in his throat. The memory flashed through him: that night, that desperate grip on the Alpha’s little finger, the fear that he’d be left alone again.

Now, in Chi Cheng’s lap, his heart pounded so loud it was almost deafening.

Chi Cheng didn’t push further. He simply stared at the trembling Omega in his arms—eyes dark but softer than before. The kind of softness he’d never allow anyone else to see.

Finally, he spoke, voice husky but faintly amused:

“Next time, if you want to run away from me, doctor…don’t leave your heartbeat behind.”

Shuai blinked up at him, breath uneven, utterly thrown off,“W-what are you even saying…”

Chi Cheng just exhaled through his nose, his hold loosening.

 “Go to sleep,” he muttered, almost gruffly. “Before I made you lose all your sleep.”

Shuai stumbled off his lap, his face burning, muttering under his breath about arrogant Alphas as he fled toward the couch—while behind him, Chi Cheng leaned back, watching him with a faint smirk and an expression that was equal parts fond and frustrated.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov :

Morning sunlight filtered weakly through the tall windows, spilling across the polished floor. The mansion was quiet—too quiet for someone like Shuai, who’d never been fond of silence that heavy.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he made his way downstairs, his hair slightly messy, his white T-shirt loose on his shoulders. He headed straight for the kitchen, deciding to make himself something simple for breakfast.

But as he reached for the eggs, his hand paused mid-air.

A faint memory from last night flickered through his mind—Chi Cheng’s hand, bandaged and stiff, the way he’d flinched when Shuai had cleaned the wound.

He sighed.

“I shouldn’t care,” he muttered to himself. “He’s annoying, arrogant, and…impossible.”

Still, he found himself setting another plate on the counter. Then another.

Before he knew it, he was slicing fruit and frying eggs in pairs.

The smell of coffee filled the air, warm and rich. Shuai tried to convince himself it was just habit—that as a doctor, he couldn’t help worrying about patients. Even ones who acted like walking disasters in expensive shirts.

Just as he was plating the food, a deep, groggy voice echoed from behind him.

“You’re loud in the morning, doctor.”

Shuai froze, spatula in hand. He turned slowly to find Chi Cheng standing in the doorway—hair tousled, shirt half-buttoned, bandaged hand hanging lazily at his side.

“Good morning to you too,” Shuai muttered, trying to sound indifferent. “Sit down. I made breakfast.”

Chi Cheng raised an eyebrow. “For me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Shuai shot back, focusing on the pan. “I just didn’t want to waste food.”

The Alpha chuckled, walking closer. “So thoughtful of you.”

“Shut up and sit.”

Chi Cheng did as told, still smirking as he watched Shuai move around the kitchen—quick, efficient, but clearly avoiding eye contact.

When Shuai finally placed the plates in front of him, Chi Cheng’s lips curved slightly. “You even made coffee. You do care.”

Shuai scowled, crossing his arms. “I care about not watching you starve and collapse again. That’s all.”

Chi Cheng leaned forward, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You know,” he said, voice low, “for someone who claims not to care, you look really cute when you do.”

Shuai’s face went red instantly.

“Eat your food before I pour the coffee on your head.”

Chi Cheng laughed quietly, the sound deep and genuine this time.

“Fine, fine. Doctor’s orders.”

Chi Cheng ate slowly, eyes fixed on Shuai in a way that made the omega’s skin itch. Every few seconds, the Alpha would hum or smirk as if amused by something only he understood.

Shuai tried to ignore him, focusing on his own plate, but finally he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can you not stare at me while you eat?” he snapped.

Chi Cheng didn’t even blink.

“Why? Does it make you nervous?”

“No,” Shuai lied, slicing his toast aggressively. “It makes you look creepy.”

Chi Cheng chuckled. “Cute.”

Shuai’s ears burned red. “Stop calling me that.”

The Alpha leaned back in his chair, stretching a little—his muscles flexing under the half-unbuttoned shirt, the bandaged hand resting on the table.

“You’re cute when you get flustered,” he repeated, deliberately slower this time.

Shuai clenched his jaw. “I’m going to my clinic today.”

That wiped the smirk off Chi Cheng’s face.

“Why?” he asked, not teasing now, just irritated. “You don’t need to. I can provide for you—”

Shuai slammed his fork down, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen.

“Don’t forget why I married you!” he snapped. “My clinic is the only thing I have. The only thing I built. The only thing that matters to me. I don’t work because of money, I work because—”

Chi Cheng cut him off mercilessly.

“You work because you’re stupid enough to believe everyone can be healed with a beautiful smile and those fragile little hands of yours.”

Shuai froze. The words hit him like cold water. Chi Cheng continued, voice colder than steel.

“But that’s not how the real world works. Some people can’t be fixed, doctor. Some wounds don’t close no matter how much you cry over them.”

Shuai swallowed hard, his eyes stinging—not from weakness, but from the cruelty of someone who should’ve known better.

Still, he lifted his chin.

“I don’t care,” he whispered. “Maybe I am stupid. Maybe I do believe in things you don’t. But my clinic is mine. I’m going today, whether you ‘provide’ for me or not.”

Chi Cheng stared at him for a long, burning moment..Then he leaned forward, elbow on the table, voice low and dangerous.

“You’re my husband,” he said. “Where you go, what you do—it concerns me.”

Shuai refused to back down.

“But I’m not your possession,” he whispered.

Chi Cheng’s eyes narrowed.

“Then stop acting like one,” he muttered.

And the silence that followed was a mix of anger… and something painfully close to jealousy.

---

The clinic was quiet, sunlight slanting through the windows, dust floating in soft golden lines. Jiang Shuai was sorting files at the reception desk, trying to keep himself busy…trying not to think about the suffocating breakfast from this morning, or the possessive Alpha who watched him like he owned the air he breathed.

He had just turned to grab another stack of papers when the clinic door swung open.

“Shuai?”

The voice froze him.

Shuai turned—slowly, almost afraid he was imagining it.

Cheng Yu stood there.

Travel-worn. Breathless. Eyes softening the moment they met his.

And before Shuai could speak, could protest, could even breathe, Cheng Yu rushed to him and pulled him into a tight hug.

Shuai’s breath hitched.

That warmth…that scent…that familiarity he had once thought he could have, before fate crushed it under Chi Cheng’s shadow.

“W–what are you doing—?” Shuai stammered, face burning as he pushed lightly against Cheng Yu’s chest. “Y-you shouldn’t be—”

“I missed you,” Cheng Yu whispered, voice trembling with emotion.

“I was so scared…thinking about what condition you might be in.”

Shuai blinked rapidly, throat tightening.

He didn’t deserve this concern. Not after everything.

He lowered his gaze. “Cheng Yu… you shouldn’t have come.”

Cheng Yu cupped his shoulders gently, leaning down to catch Shuai’s eyes.

“How are you, Shuai?” he asked softly. “You look tired…thinner. Is he treating you well?”

Shuai’s lips parted—but no answer came.

Because he didn’t know.

Because he wasn’t sure.

Because the lines between safety and danger, care and control, had blurred so terribly.

His silence said everything.

And Cheng Yu’s hands tightened just a little, protective instinct rising in his eyes.

“Shuai,” he whispered, “if you ever feel trapped—if anything ever happens—you call me. I’ll come for you. Anytime. Anywhere.”

Shuai’s heart twisted painfully.

He had married another man.

Yet another was still willing to burn the world for him.

Shuai stepped back, cheeks red, breath uneven.

“I-I can’t… please, you shouldn’t—Chi Cheng—”

Cheng Yu’s jaw clenched at the name.

“I don’t care about him,” he said quietly.

“I only care about you.”

---

Jiang Shuai had just folded his blanket on the couch, ready to lie down for the night. His body ached; his mind was still replaying Cheng Yu’s worried gaze. He didn’t want to think about it—not when Chi Cheng was already unpredictable these days.

He exhaled softly and reached to turn off the lamp.

The door slammed open.

Shuai flinched so violently his breath caught. His heart leapt into his throat.

Chi Cheng stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes burning with something darker than anger—something territorial, primal.

Before Shuai could speak, move, breathe—Chi Cheng marched toward him, grabbed his arm, and yanked him up from the couch.

“W-what—Chi Cheng—?” Shuai gasped, stumbling into his hard chest.

Chi Cheng’s grip tightened, jaw clenched so hard a vein pulsed at his temple.

“Why,” he said, voice low and vibrating with barely restrained fury,

“was Cheng Yu at your clinic?”

Shuai froze.

His mind blanked. His throat closed. His fingers trembled at his sides.

“…H-he just came to—” he tried to speak, but the words broke apart.

“To WHAT?” Chi Cheng stepped closer, forcing Shuai backward until his knees hit the couch. “To SEE you? To TOUCH you?”

He grabbed Shuai’s chin roughly, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Did you call him?” Chi Cheng demanded.

“Did you ask him to come behind my back?”

“N-no!” Shuai’s voice cracked, tears threatening. “I didn’t! He came on his own—Chi Cheng, let go—”

But the alpha only leaned closer, eyes darkening further.

“You think I’m stupid?”

“No—”

“You think I didn’t see how he was holding you?” Chi Cheng hissed. “Like he had some damn right to you—MY omega—”

“Don’t call me that,” Shuai whispered, voice trembling.

“Then stop behaving like someone else’s.”

Shuai’s breath stopped.

His heart beat painfully, and he pushed weakly against Chi Cheng’s chest.

“You’re overreacting… Cheng Yu was just worried—”

“He,” Chi Cheng growled, “has no right to worry about you.”

Shuai’s eyes widened.

His lips parted in shock.

His chest squeezed painfully.

And Chi Cheng, realizing what he’d just said, shut his eyes briefly…exhaling through clenched teeth, trying to regain control—but failing.

He reached out, cupping Shuai’s face, thumb pressing against his cheekbone.

“I warned you, Shuai…” he whispered dangerously.

“I warned you to stay away from him. You are MINE now.”

Shuai’s tears spilled over—anger, humiliation, fear, heartbreak mixing into one painful knot inside him.

“You don’t own me,” Shuai whispered back, voice shaking.

“You bought my clinic, not me.”

Chi Cheng’s entire body snapped. His hand moved before his thoughts did.

In one swift, furious motion he grabbed Shuai’s wrist, spun him around, and slammed him back against the wall, the impact making a framed picture rattle violently beside them.

Jiang Shuai gasped, a shocked, broken sound leaving his lips as his back hit the cold surface.

Before he could recover, Chi Cheng’s arm pinned across his chest, trapping him completely.

“Don’t,” Chi Cheng growled—

his forehead nearly touching Shuai’s, their breaths mixing,

his eyes blazing with something wild and unrestrained—

“say something like that to me again.”

Shuai trembled.

Every nerve in his body lit up with panic, adrenaline, and something dangerously close to heat.

“Chi Cheng—let go—”

“No.”

Chi Cheng pressed closer, his thigh caging Shuai in place, his palm sliding to the back of Shuai’s neck in a possessive grip that made Shuai gasp again.

“You think I bought you?”

His voice was sharp, rough, almost shaking.

“You think I see you like some… object?”

He leaned in, lips brushing Shuai’s ear.

“I warned you once,” he whispered, “that if you slapped me again, if you defied me again—I’d break every stupid rule this world has about controlling an omega.”

Shuai squeezed his eyes shut, heart slamming against his ribs.

“I’m not your toy,” he whispered, voice trembling but stubborn.

“You can’t just—push me around every time you’re angry—”

Chi Cheng’s fingers flexed on his neck.

“You’re the one making me angry,” he snarled.

“You’re the one who keeps running to other alphas.

You’re the one who keeps pretending you don’t belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!”

Chi Cheng’s breath halted.

His eyes darkened to something primal.

Then—

He grabbed Shuai’s jaw roughly and forced his head up.

“You do.”

His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl.

“You belong to me, Jiang Shuai. Even if you fight it. Even if you hate it. Even if you don’t understand it yet.”

Shuai’s eyes were wide, breath shaking, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Chi Cheng… please—let me go…”

Chi Cheng’s grip on his jaw tightened painfully.

“No,” he whispered.

“Not tonight.”

His thumb brushed Shuai’s lower lip..And Shuai froze entirely.

“I’m done watching you walk away from me.

I’m done watching other alphas touch you.”

He pressed his forehead against Shuai’s, voice trembling with barely controlled rage.

“I’m done pretending I don’t care.”

Shuai’s lips parted, stunned.

Chi Cheng inhaled sharply—like Shuai’s scent alone pushed him over the edge.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, this time softer, but far more terrifying.

Jiang Shuai didn’t even have time to gasp. Chi Cheng’s hand tightened on his jaw—

—and then his mouth crashed onto Shuai’s.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss people dreamed of.

It was desperate.

Possessive.

Unrestrained.

Shuai’s eyes went wide, his breath stolen, his sounds trapped inside the hard press of the alpha’s lips. Chi Cheng kissed him like he was reclaiming something that belonged to him—something someone had tried to take away.

Shuai pushed weakly at his chest, a muffled “mh—!” escaping against the kiss, but Chi Cheng only pulled him closer, crushing their bodies together, one hand gripping the back of Shuai’s head, the other sliding around his waist, dragging him more firmly into his arms.

His lips were hot, demanding, almost angry.

As if the very idea of Shuai going to Cheng Yu had made a fire erupt in his veins.

“Chi—Chi Cheng—stop—” Shuai tried to speak when the alpha pulled back for air, but Chi Cheng silenced him with another deep, hungry kiss.

He kissed Shuai harder.

Slower.

Deeper.

Making the omega gasp and tremble, his fingers curling helplessly into Chi Cheng’s shirt.

“You drive me insane,” Chi Cheng whispered against Shuai’s mouth, his lips brushing him again and again, refusing to pull away. “Running to other alphas…crying in front of him…letting him touch you…”

Shuai felt his pulse hammering in his ears.

His knees were weak—too weak—

and Chi Cheng felt it, tightening his arm around Shuai’s waist to keep him from falling.

“Stop—please—” Shuai breathed, cheeks burning, lips swollen.

But the plea sounded soft, broken, not angry enough. Chi Cheng’s eyes gleamed dangerously.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of Shuai’s wet, reddened lips. Shuai swallowed hard.

His silence was answer enough.

Chi Cheng leaned in again—slowly, deliberately this time—letting Shuai feel every inch of the moment before their lips met. His breath tickled Shuai’s cheek, warm and shaky.

“I won’t,” he whispered.

And he kissed him again.

This time deeper.

This time claiming.

This time like he had waited years.

Shuai’s hands pushed at Chi Cheng’s chest again—but with far less force—his fingers trembling, his breath catching, his entire body betraying how overwhelmed he was.

When Chi Cheng finally pulled away, Shuai was flushed, panting, unsteady, his lips red and kiss-swollen.

The alpha pressed his forehead to Shuai’s, his voice rough, breathless.

“Don’t ever tell me you don’t belong to anyone,” he said softly.

“You belong to me, Jiang Shuai… whether you accept it or not.”

Shuai’s breath hitched—and he didn’t deny it. Jiang Shuai barely had time to catch his breath.

His lips were still tingling—warm, swollen, trembling—when Chi Cheng’s hands suddenly slid down to his thighs.

“W-wait—Chi Cheng—” Shuai gasped, shocked, but the alpha had already moved.

With one firm motion, Chi Cheng lifted him off the floor, strong arms scooping under his thighs and back. Shuai’s hands flew instinctively to Chi Cheng’s shoulders, clutching the fabric as his legs dangled helplessly.

He let out a soft, breathless gasp.

Not fear.

Not desire.

Something in between—dangerous.

Chi Cheng’s jaw was tight, his breathing uneven, his eyes still burning from the kiss.

But his grip was steady. Solid. Unshakable.

“You’re shaking,” Chi Cheng muttered, voice low enough to vibrate in Shuai’s chest.

Shuai turned his face away, cheeks burning.

“I’m not,” he lied—his voice betraying him with a tremor.

Chi Cheng smirked softly. Then he carried the omega toward the bed.

Not fast.

Not rough.

But slow. Controlled. Like each step was claiming the space around them.

Shuai’s heart thudded violently in his chest with every movement.

He could hear Chi Cheng’s heartbeat too—too loud, too fast—echoing against his ribs where Shuai’s palm rested helplessly.

When they reached the bed, Chi Cheng lowered him gently, sitting him on the edge. Shuai’s fingers were still curled into his shirt, and he hadn’t realized he wasn’t letting go until Chi Cheng paused—looking down at the small, trembling grip on his chest.

The alpha’s voice dropped lower.

“Let go,” he whispered.

Shuai snatched his hand away instantly, face flaming.

Chi Cheng placed both palms on either side of the omega, caging him in.

The bed dipped under his weight.

The room shrank around them.

Shuai instinctively scooted back, but a strong hand caught his knee, stopping him.

“Don’t run,” Chi Cheng murmured.

Shuai swallowed. “I—I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

Chi Cheng leaned closer, his lips grazing Shuai’s ear.

“Running is the only thing you do when I get near you.”

Shuai shivered, breathing quick and uneven.

Chi Cheng’s hand rose to cup the back of Shuai’s neck—not tight, but grounding—his thumb brushing the fine hairs there.

“You’re my husband now,” Chi Cheng said softly, dangerously calm.

“I’ll carry you. I’ll hold you.”

Then, after a heartbeat—

“And I won’t let anyone else lay even a finger on you.”

Shuai’s lashes fluttered, his blush deepening against his will.

The alpha studied his face…

his swollen lips…

the nervous rise and fall of his chest.

Then Chi Cheng leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching.

“I didn’t carry you to this bed to take advantage of you,” he murmured, surprising Shuai enough for him to blink in confusion.

“I carried you because… you looked like you’d fall.”

His thumb brushed Shuai’s cheek, catching a trembling breath that escaped him.

“Sleep here,” Chi Cheng whispered.

“Next to me.”

Shuai’s chest tightened.

Confusion. Fear. Warmth. All tangled.

But he didn’t say no. And that was the most dangerous part.

Shaui swallowed, avoiding his gaze.

“W-Why are you acting like this…?”

Chi Cheng’s jaw clenched. “You didn’t answer me.”

Shaui looked away. “Cheng Yu is my friend. He was just worried. T-That’s all.”

The alpha let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Worried? He hugged you in the middle of your clinic. In front of everyone.” He leaned down until their faces were inches apart. “And you let him.”

Shaui felt his heart race. “You can’t control who I talk to—”

“I can control whatever involves my omega,” Chi Cheng growled, pulling him even closer until Shaui’s chest brushed his. “And I don’t like another alpha touching what’s mine.”

Shaui’s eyes widened. “I’m not a thing—”

“And yet,” Chi Cheng murmured, voice low and dangerous, “you make me react like you are.”

He pinned Shaui lightly, not hurting him but caging him completely. His eyes were dark—jealous, possessive, furious, and something else Shaui couldn’t recognize.

Shaui shivered. “Chi Cheng… you’re overreacting—”

“Am I?” Chi Cheng tilted Shaui’s chin up with two fingers. “Tell me, did it feel good? Being hugged by him?”

Shaui’s lips parted, shocked. “I— No! He was just—”

“I don’t care what he meant.” Chi Cheng leaned closer, breathing against Shaui’s ear. “I care what you felt.”

Shaui’s knees weakened. “I didn’t— It wasn’t like that.”

Chi Cheng exhaled harshly, trying to calm the storm in his chest.

“Shh…stop making me angry.”

Shaui blinked. “Then stop accusing me.”

For a moment, the alpha froze.

Then suddenly—

Chi Cheng yanked him forward, Shaui stumbling into his chest. Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him tight—too tight, almost desperate.

Shaui gasped. “C-Chi Cheng?”

The alpha’s voice dropped, quiet but rough.

“I don’t want him near you.”

Shaui’s breath shook. “Why…?”

Chi Cheng didn’t answer immediately. His grip only tightened, forehead pressing against Shaui’s shoulder.

When he finally spoke, it was almost a whisper.

“Because I can’t stand the idea of another alpha looking at you the way I do.”

Shaui’s heart stopped.

His face burned.

His fingers curled into Chi Cheng’s shirt without thinking.

The alpha pulled back slightly, eyes locking with his—raw, intense, and unmistakably possessive.

“This is the last warning, Shaui,” Chi Cheng said softly but with steel in his voice.

“Don’t make me jealous again.”

Chapter Text

Author’s pov: 

Jiang Shuai’s palms were cold as he was escorted through the clinic corridor by the board alphas. Their expressions were blank, unreadable, and every heavy footstep made fear throb in his chest. He tried to keep his breathing steady.

Don’t cry. Not in front of them. Not now.

They led him into a private office room. The moment the door shut behind him, Shuai froze. An older man sat there—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, with the same cold authority Chi Cheng carried. The resemblance was unmistakable. Chi Cheng’s father.

The man looked at him from head to toe as if evaluating an object rather than a person.

“So,” the man finally said, his voice carrying decades of power, “you’re the one my son chose?”

Shuai swallowed hard and nodded. His throat felt painfully tight, but he refused to lower his gaze. “Y-Yes…”

The man scoffed. “Didn’t you find anyone better than him?”

Shuai blinked, stunned. “S-Sorry…?”

“My son is not the type to settle,” the man said flatly. “He isn’t gentle. He isn’t stable. He only thinks about business and winning. Marriage was never in his plans.”

The way he said it—calm, factual—made Shuai’s stomach twist.

It felt like someone quietly telling him the ground beneath him wasn’t safe to stand on.

Still, wanting to show respect, Shuai tried to smile nervously

“Then… then I should call you father—”

“Don’t.”

Shuai’s eyes snapped up in surprise.

The old man continued, bitterness laced between every syllable.

“My son is not the type who settles. He’s rash. Cold. Reckless. Marriage? That boy barely believes in the concept.”

Shuai’s heart squeezed at the sharpness in the father’s voice…and at how painfully accurate his words felt.

Chi Cheng’s father stood, his presence towering and suffocating. The board alphas bowed their heads slightly as if accustomed to his temper.

“You married him without my knowledge. Without my approval. Without any member of our family being present. And now you expect me to accept you?”

Shuai’s throat tightened.

“I… I didn’t mean disrespect.”

The man walked closer, stopping right in front of the trembling omega.

Up close, his aura was even more overwhelming—powerful, commanding, and completely unyielding.

“Let me tell you something, Jiang Shuai,” he said quietly. “My son does nothing without an ulterior motive. If he married you, he wants something from you. And trust me—Chi Cheng takes what he wants.”

Shuai froze, breath stuck in his chest.

The man’s eyes narrowed, voice dropping lower.

“So tell me…what exactly is my son using you for?”

Shuai’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His heart pounded painfully. He wanted to answer—but every truth felt humiliating and every lie felt dangerous.

“Run away,” the man repeated, voice low.

“Tell me how much you want. I can give you enough that you can open your clinic anywhere you like. Far from my son.”

Shuai’s fingers tightened around the ends of his sleeves. His breath hitched, heart pounding painfully against his ribs.

He hadn’t expected this.

Not from Chi Cheng’s father.

“I…” Shuai swallowed hard, forcing himself to look up. “I don’t want money.”

The older alpha raised a brow. “Everyone wants money.”

Shuai shook his head quickly, almost desperately, “No. I’m not greedy. I didn’t marry your son because I wanted wealth. I only wanted to…save my clinic.” His voice cracked slightly at the end. “That’s all.”

Chi Cheng’s father watched him carefully, as if trying to find a lie in his trembling eyes. But Shuai was too sincere—too transparent for his own good.

“So you won’t leave?” the man asked quietly.

Shuai bit his lip. He felt small under the man’s gaze, stomach twisting in anxiety. Then the older alpha exhaled.

“You’re a foolish boy,” he muttered—not insultingly, but with the weariness of someone who had seen too much of the world. “You don’t understand what Chi Cheng is. You don’t understand the danger you’ve stepped into."

Shuai lowered his gaze.

“Yes…I know,” he whispered.

“And yet you stay?”

Shuai’s voice trembled.

“Because I don’t break promises."

Another silence.

For the first time, Chi Cheng’s father’s expression faltered—surprise, maybe a hint of respect. He turned slightly away, hands behind his back.

“There were many ways you could have saved your clinic,” he said quietly.

“You chose the most foolish one.”

Shuai nodded once.

“I know, because at that time no one helped except him.”

Even though, he was the one who closed all the other doors for me. 

“And you still won’t take my money and run?”

“I won’t.”

The older alpha stared at him again—this time longer, deeper—before letting out a sigh.

“…You’re not greedy,” he said finally. “You’re just too loyal for your own good.”

Shuai didn’t respond.

He didn’t know how.

Chi Cheng’s father stared at Jiang Shuai for a long moment, the lines around his eyes deepening with a worry he wasn't used to showing.

“You’re a good boy, Shuai,” he said quietly, almost reluctantly.

“You’re too good for him. I know my son…He’ll break you.”

The words should have hurt.

Maybe once, they would have.

But Shuai only let out a soft, breathy chuckle—one that didn’t reach his tired eyes.

“Break me?” he echoed, lowering his gaze as his fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt.

He took a shaky breath and forced a little smile.

“Even if he breaks me…I’m his to keep.”

Chi Cheng’s father stiffened.

He hadn’t expected that.

Not from someone like Shuai—someone gentle, someone scared of hurting even a plant, someone who should have run the moment things turned dark.

“…Why would you say that?” the older alpha asked, voice tight.

Shuai looked up at him—small, fragile, but steady.

“Because I made a promise,” he whispered.

“I asked him to save my clinic. He did. So whatever happens now… is my fate. I chose this.”

I choose him

There was no bitterness in his tone.

Only a quiet, resigned acceptance…

and something else—something the older man couldn’t name.

---

Chi Cheng paced the living room, unable to focus on anything except the way the apartment felt unbearably quiet without Jiang Shuai in it. He told himself it was just concern…that he was only waiting because Shuai worked too much and forgot to eat.

But deep down, he knew.

Somewhere between the late-night dinners, the quiet bickering, and the way Shuai smiled at him like he meant it—

he’d started calling Jiang Shuai his husband.

And now, the silence was loud enough to make his heart twist.

When the clock hadn’t even struck eleven yet, something inside him snapped.

Why wasn’t Shuai home?

He always came home by now.

Chi Cheng grabbed his keys and stormed out, each step harder and faster. His mind spun with every terrible possibility. What if someone had hurt him? What if he’d collapsed from exhaustion? Or worse—

A growl rumbled from deep in his chest before he could stop it.

The instinct was sudden, sharp, possessive.

What if he left me?

What if he ran away?

The very thought sent a painful ache across his chest. He hated how much it hurt. He hated that someone so gentle, so soft-spoken, could make him feel like this.

He reached the clinic in record time, throwing the door open—

Only to find it empty.

Everything neatly arranged. Lights off. The chair where Shuai usually sat was cold.

The quiet space made his breath falter.

“Shuai…” his voice came out softer than he meant. “Where are you?”

He crouched down, running his fingers over the desk where Shuai liked to rest his head when he was tired.

He could still feel the faint warmth there. Chi Cheng closed his eyes for a moment.

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t furious.

He was scared.

And beneath that fear was something he wasn’t ready to name.

Something that made him turn on his heel and practically sprint out of the clinic, determined to find him—not because he was an alpha, not because he was possessive—

But because he couldn’t bear a night without the man he had started to call…

his.

---

Jiang Shuai stepped out of the car and watched it disappear down the quiet street. It was strange being dropped off here—farther from home than usual—but he didn’t complain. He just pulled his coat tighter around himself and began walking.

The night felt colder than normal.

Too quiet.

Too big.

He sighed softly, rubbing his arms as he moved down the dimly lit sidewalk. His thoughts drifted to Chi Cheng—probably waiting at home, probably pretending he didn’t care but checking the clock every ten minutes.

A small smile pulled on Shuai’s lips.

But the smile disappeared when he heard footsteps behind him.

Two…no, three sets.

A few alphas hanging near the corner turned their heads when he passed. Their voices carried through the night—teasing, commenting, catcalling. Shuai stiffened, his heartbeat picking up.

He wasn’t fragile, but he wasn’t stupid either.

He sped up.

The footsteps followed.

“Hey, sweetheart—where you going?” one called out.

Shuai ignored him and kept walking.

But then one of them reached out and grabbed his wrist, “ you look like you’re in need of a company, baby boy. ”

His whole body froze.

He turned, frown sharp and clear. “Let go.”

Instead, the alpha smirked. “Or what? Going to punch me with those pretty hands.”

Jiang Shuai didn’t think—he reacted.

His fist shot forward, striking the alpha’s shoulder hard enough to make the man stumble.

But an omega’s strength could only do so much.

The alpha recovered quickly and stepped closer, irritation flashing in his eyes. “ You need to learn your place, omega ! ” 

Shuai felt his throat tighten. He swallowed hard, knowing he wouldn’t win if this escalated.

He took a step back.

Then another.

But the three of them began closing in.

His pulse thumped painfully in his ears. He tried to keep his face calm, but fear crept into his eyes in a way he couldn’t hide.

He whispered to himself, breath trembling,

“I need to get home…I’ve a husband—”

Just as one of the alphas reached grabbing his wrist...

A familiar sound cut through the street.

Heavy footsteps.

A sharp inhale.

A voice low, dangerous, and unmistakably furious:

“Don’t touch my husband.”

Shuai’s heart stopped.

He didn’t need to turn around to know—

Chi Cheng had found him.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov: 

The tallest alpha scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Who are you supposed to be, huh? We found this omega first.”

Jiang Shuai’s breath hitched.

He didn’t dare move.

He didn’t dare look at Chi Cheng.

But he could feel him.

A cold, controlled fury filled the air—so sharp the street itself felt tighter around them. Chi Cheng’s jaw flexed, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. His expression was unreadable except for one thing:

He was dangerous.

“Listen carefully,” Chi Cheng said, voice low and steady, the kind that made every instinct go still.

“He’s my omega. My husband.”

His eyes narrowed like a warning blade.

“Stay away from him.”

The group of alphas laughed.

“Your husband? Then why’s he out here all alone?” one sneered, stepping closer.

Before Shuai could step back, the alpha’s hand slid around his waist, pulling him forward like he was something to claim.

Shuai stiffened immediately, panic shooting through him. His fingers trembled as he tried to pry the hand off, but the grip only tightened.

That was all it took.

Chi Cheng moved—not loudly, not messily, but with the kind of controlled recoil of someone holding back something far darker. His eyes weren’t angry anymore.

They were lethal.

“Let. Go.”

Just two words.

But they vibrated through the entire street.

The alpha only smirked. “Or what—?”

Chi Cheng’s composure snapped. He took one step forward, the kind that made the ground feel smaller under his feet. His scent shifted—sharp, possessive, unmistakably alpha—and the air thickened around them.

Jiang Shuai felt his own knees weaken, not because he was scared of Chi Cheng but because he recognized that this—this storm in front of him—was born entirely from him.

From the moment the alpha touched him.

Chi Cheng’s voice dropped lower, eyes fixed on the arm wrapped around Jiang Shuai’s waist.

“Take your hand off my husband,” he said, “before I make you regret it.”

The street went silent.

Even the drunk laughter from the bar across the road faded.

Shuai’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear—

Or because, for the first time since their rushed marriage…

Chi Cheng looked like a man who would burn the whole world just to protect him.

The alpha holding Shuai barely had time to blink.

Chi Cheng stepped forward, calm and frighteningly sure of himself.

“No one touches what’s mine.”

The nearest alpha scoffed, swinging his arm in a lazy punch—

He never landed it.

Chi Cheng caught the wrist mid-air, twisted sharply, and the alpha stumbled back with a howl. Not injured—just shocked, thrown off balance by the sheer force behind Chi Cheng’s movements.

Two more rushed in from the sides.

Chi Cheng moved like someone who’d fought his whole life.

He dodged the first, letting the punch cut through empty air. Before the alpha could recover, Chi Cheng shoved him backward with enough force to send him crashing into his friend. Both went down in a tangled pile, cursing.

The third lunged for Jiang Shuai instead.

That—

That was a mistake.

Chi Cheng grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him away from Jiang Shuai, pushing him hard against the wall. The alpha hit it with a thud, stunned, breath knocked out of him.

Another swung at Chi Cheng from behind.

Chi Cheng didn’t even turn fully—he simply ducked, caught the man’s arm, and used his own momentum to flip him over his shoulder. The alpha hit the ground, rolling, scrambling to stand.

“You—!”

One charged again, furious.

Chi Cheng met him halfway, pushing him back with a forearm to the chest. No blood, no brutal injury—just pure dominance, the kind that made every other alpha freeze mid-step.

“Get up,” Chi Cheng growled. “Try again.”

Jiang Shuai had never seen anything like it.

Chi Cheng wasn’t wild.

He wasn’t losing control.

He was precise.

Deadly calm.

His strikes were fast, efficient, meant only to incapacitate, not harm more than necessary.

Another alpha rushed him with a shout.

Chi Cheng turned, caught his shoulders, and pushed him to the ground, pinning him with a single knee.

“That’s enough.”

His voice thundered through the street.

The remaining alphas slowed, panting, glaring—but none dared take another step. Chi Cheng straightened, breath steady despite the scuffle, eyes burning with a warning they all understood.

“Touch him again,” he said, “and you won’t walk away alive next time.”

No one argued.

The group scrambled, dragging each other up, limping away, muttering curses but never once looking back.

As soon as they disappeared around the corner, Chi Cheng finally turned to Jiang Shuai.

Still panting slightly.

Still trembling from the adrenaline.

Still burning with that violent protectiveness.

“Come here,” he said softly.

And Jiang Shuai—still shaken—stepped toward the only person in that dark street who had fought the entire night for him alone.

His whole life, he had taught himself to survive alone… to never lean on anyone… to never expect rescue.

But tonight—

after Chi Cheng’s father’s warning,

after strangers on the street pulling at him,

after fear had wrapped around his ribs so tightly he could barely breathe—

something inside him finally cracked. Jiang Shuai didn’t know when his legs started moving. Maybe it was the leftover terror.

Maybe it was the memory of Chi Cheng stepping between him and danger with no hesitation.

Maybe it was simply because—for the first time in a long, lonely life—someone had fought for him.

His vision blurred again, not with fear this time, but with something warmer…something that made his chest ache.

He walked toward Chi Cheng in small, timid steps.

Chi Cheng stood perfectly still, shoulders rising and falling with controlled breaths, eyes sharp and alert even though the danger had passed. But when Shuai reached him—when the omega quietly leaned forward and rested his forehead against Chi Cheng’s chest—

Something inside the alpha broke.

Not in anger.

In relief.

Chi Cheng exhaled, long and slow, as if someone had finally untied the knot inside his lungs. His rigid stance softened. His hands, still slightly trembling from adrenaline, lifted and circled around Shuai’s smaller frame.

Not possessively.

Not forcefully.

But securely—solid arms that formed a quiet, protective cage around him.

Jiang Shuai sucked in a shaky breath, his fingers curling into Chi Cheng’s shirt as if anchoring himself.

“I… I was so scared,” he whispered.

Chi Cheng lowered his chin, the faintest brush of his breath stirring Shuai’s hair.

“You’re safe now,” he said quietly—so quietly it sounded almost like a secret he didn’t intend to voice aloud.

A warm wave washed over Shuai’s senses.

Gentle.

Steady.

Chi Cheng’s pheromones.

Soothing, grounding—nothing like the aggressive dominance from earlier. He released them slowly, carefully, like he was afraid to overwhelm the already frightened omega.

Shuai’s tense shoulders loosened. His trembling stopped. His heartbeat steadied against the alpha’s chest.

Chi Cheng closed his eyes for a moment.

Holding Shuai felt…right.

Dangerously right.

He tightened his arms just a little, pulling Shuai closer, as if reassuring himself the omega was really there.

And for the first time that night, Chi Cheng—cold, violent Chi Cheng—felt something calm spread through his chest.

Peace.

Because Jiang Shuai had come to him.

Because he was holding him.

Because his omega was safe.

“Let’s go home,” Chi Cheng murmured, voice low, steady.

Chi Cheng felt something twist painfully in his chest when Jiang Shuai lifted his head.

Those eyes—still shimmering with tears, still frightened, still trying so hard to be brave—hit him harder than any punch he’d thrown tonight. That pout and flushed cheeks. 

His jaw clenched.

His fists curled.

For a second he looked like he might roar again…but instead, something surprisingly human crossed his face.

A breath.

A hesitation.

Then—

Very slowly, he reached out.

His thumb brushed beneath Shuai’s eye, wiping a tear that hadn’t yet fallen.

The movement was stiff, awkward…but undeniably gentle.

So unlike the man who had just sent three alphas to the ground without blinking.

Chi Cheng’s voice was quiet, but sharp with something he didn’t name.

“…Where are your shoes?”

Jiang Shuai blinked, startled by the question.

He glanced down at his bare, scratched feet—then laughed, nervous and small.

“Uhm… I lost them,” he admitted, scratching his cheek. “Actually…I threw them. At the alphas.”

For a moment Chi Cheng just stared at him.

Stunned.

Then his eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“…You threw your shoes at them?”

Shuai nodded, shoulders bunching. “They grabbed me! It was the only thing I could think of.”

A sound escaped Chi Cheng—half exasperated breath, half something dangerously close to a laugh.

He lifted a hand, dragging it down his face as if this fragile, stubborn, trembling omega was too much for any rational person to handle.

“You,” Chi Cheng muttered, voice low, “are unbelievable.”

But he stepped closer.

One firm hand settled on Shuai’s shoulder—not restraining, only steadying.

“Come here.”

Shuai hesitated, but only for a heartbeat.

Chi Cheng tilted his head down slightly, eyes scanning Shuai’s bare feet, the cold pavement, the bruising wrists.

 “Next time you feel scared—call me. Don’t throw your shoes at anyone.”

Jiang Shuai ducked his head, cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“I…I’ll try.”

Jiang Shuai trudged behind him, lips pushed into a little pout as he stared at his poor, bare feet.

Every step made him wince.

Every pebble felt like betrayal.

And Chi Cheng… that heartless alpha… was walking ahead like he didn’t even care.

“Slow down…” Shuai muttered under his breath, cheeks puffed.

He didn’t expect Chi Cheng to hear him.

He definitely didn’t expect Chi Cheng to stop.

And he absolutely didn’t expect what happened next.

The alpha suddenly crouched down on one knee, back broad and waiting.

Jiang Shuai who was looking here and there didn’t see the alpha stopped and stumbled—straight onto Chi Cheng’s back with a soft “ah!”

Large hands instantly caught him by the thighs, steadying him with ease.

“What are you—?!” Shuai squeaked, face flaming.

Chi Cheng’s voice came out low, a little annoyed, a little amused… and far too warm.

“Get on.”

Shuai blinked rapidly. “W-What?”

Chi Cheng craned his head slightly, one brow raised.

“You’re walking like a wounded duck. I’m giving you a piggyback ride.”

The omega’s heart skipped—then tripped over itself.

“I-I didn’t ask for—”

“You didn’t have to.”

His grip tightened at Shuai’s thighs, firm but gentle, pulling him fully onto his back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Shuai swallowed hard.

Being this close…

feeling the heat of Chi Cheng’s body…

his strong shoulders beneath his chest…

the steady heartbeat through his back…

—his own heart was screaming in panic and something dangerously close to affection.

Chi Cheng started walking, carrying him as if he weighed nothing.

“…Comfortable?” he asked, voice deep, teasing.

Jiang Shuai’s ears burned. “No.”

“Liar.”

Shuai buried his face in the back of Chi Cheng’s neck in embarrassment, only making the alpha smirk.

Chi Cheng adjusted his hold, lifting Shuai a little higher.

“Next time you throw your shoes at someone,” he murmured, “at least aim better.”

“That’s—! I was scared!” Shuai protested.

“I know, I shouldn’t have expected that my husband will be normal.” Chi Cheng replied quietly.

Shuai gasped, accusingly saying, “Because you’re also a psychopath. Not normal either!!!”

Chi Cheng laughed then almost playfully, added:

“And don’t pout again. It distracts me.”

Shuai’s heart almost fell out of his chest.

He tightened his arms around the alpha’s shoulders, voice barely a whisper:

“Then…don’t look at me.”

Chi Cheng chuckled—a soft, rare sound.

“You make that impossible.”

And he kept walking, carrying his omega like something precious he wasn’t ready to admit he cherished.

Chapter Text

Author’s pov:

By the time they reached the mansion, Jiang Shuai was already flustered to the point of overheating.

The second Chi Cheng unlocked the bedroom door, he walked straight inside with Shuai still clinging to his back.

Then—without warning—Chi Cheng bent down and let Shuai slide off onto the bed.

The omega bounced lightly on the mattress, widening his eyes at the sudden drop.

“H-Hey—! Be gentle!” Shuai puffed his cheeks, glaring at him like an offended kitten.

Chi Cheng didn’t even let him sit up. He stepped forward.

Then another step.

And another—until his arms caged Shuai in, palms planted on either side of his hips, his large frame towering over the omega curled on the bed.

Jiang Shuai’s breath hitched.

The room suddenly felt too small…

too warm…

too filled with Chi Cheng.

His voice came low, rough, dangerously calm.

“Where were you?”

Shuai blinked rapidly. “I— I came home—”

“Don’t lie.”

The alpha leaned closer, eyes narrowed.

“I went to the clinic. You weren’t there.”

Shuai stiffened immediately.

He looked away, clutching the bedsheet with small trembling hands.

“I… I just…”

His voice shrank to a whisper.

“I had something to do…”

Chi Cheng’s jaw tightened.

“Something more important than telling your husband where you are?”

His tone wasn’t angry—it was worse. It was wounded fury, a storm behind his stern expression. Shuai flinched at the word husband.

It always hit deeper than it should.

“I wasn’t doing anything bad,” Shuai murmured, refusing to look up.

“I just… didn’t want to bother you.”

Chi Cheng grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You think your safety bothers me?”

Shuai’s breath stopped.

Chi Cheng lowered his voice, almost a growl of frustrated concern.

“You walked home alone. Barefoot. At night.”

His fingers softened slightly on Shuai’s jaw.

“What if I hadn’t found you?”

The omega swallowed hard, eyes shimmering.

“I… I didn’t want to trouble you. I thought you’d be mad.”

“I am mad,” Chi Cheng answered, leaning even closer until their foreheads almost touched.

“But not because you troubled me.”

Jiang Shaui’s heart thumped painfully.

“Then why…?” he whispered.

Chi Cheng exhaled sharply—like the truth was clawing out of him.

“Because you scared me.”

Shuai’s eyes widened.

The alpha looked away for a moment, as if the confession burned.

“I went to the clinic… and it was empty. Every worst thought came to me.”

He clenched his fist beside Shuai’s waist.

“I thought you ran away. That someone took you. That you were hurt.”

Shuai’s breath trembled.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I didn’t run.”

Chi Cheng’s gaze snapped back to him, raw and intense.

“Don’t disappear on me again.”

Shuai bit his lip, cheeks warming.

“I… I won’t.”

Chi Cheng didn’t even flinch when the pillow hit his chest. The soft thump barely moved him, but Jiang Shuai’s offended little gasp made the corner of his lips twitch.

“You…!” Shuai glared, cheeks puffed, hair messed up from falling onto the bed. “You called me your husband today and now you’re calling me mentally unstable?!”

Chi Cheng leaned one hand on the pillow beside Shuai’s head, caging him in again—close enough for Shuai to feel the heat of his body, but not touching.

“I did,” Chi Cheng said simply, shrugging like it meant nothing.

“Both things.”

Shuai’s mouth fell open. “Y-You—!”

Another pillow strike. Chi Cheng caught it mid-air this time, looking down at him with a lazy, amused stare that made Shuai’s stomach twist.

“You’re so dramatic,” Chi Cheng murmured, eyes dropping to Shuai’s flushed face. “When I said husband, you didn’t seem to mind.”

“I— I didn’t care!” Shuai tried to sound confident, but his voice cracked in the middle.

Chi Cheng smirked. “Really? Because you look like someone who replayed it in his head ten times on the way home.”

Shuai’s ears turned red instantly.

“I DID NOT!”

“Mhm.” Chi Cheng leaned a little closer, their noses almost touching. “Then why are you blushing?”

“I— I’m not—!”

Chi Cheng chuckled quietly, the soft rumble going straight through Shuai’s chest.

“You’re cute,” he said—casual, honest, and without thinking.

Shuai froze.

Chi Cheng froze too, realizing what he had said.

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing.

Chi Cheng stared at the blanket Shuai was hiding under.

A small pouty lump.

A very offended lump.

He sighed dramatically and tapped the lump with one finger.

“Wife,” he said casually. “Come out.”

The lump stiffened.

“…I’m NOT your wife!” Shuai’s muffled voice shot back.

Chi Cheng hummed, unbothered.

“You reacted faster than when I called your name.”

“That’s because you’re ANNOYING!”

“Mm. Wifey, you’re kicking too much.” He tugged lightly at the blanket. “You’ll fall off the bed.”

“I WON’T!”

“You will,” Chi Cheng said, “because you’re small.”

The blanket exploded open as Shuai peeked out, glaring.

“WHO is small?!”

“You,” Chi Cheng answered instantly, leaning one arm beside Shuai’s head again. “My little wife.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

“Why?” Chi Cheng asked, voice dropping just a little. “You blush every time.”

“I DON’T—”

Chi Cheng reached forward and flicked Shuai’s forehead gently.

“Yes, you do.”

Shuai’s hands shot up to cover his face. “I’m not your wife.”

Chi Cheng leaned in closer—close enough Shuai could feel his breath.

“…How cute my wife gets when he’s mad.”

“I—YOU—STOP—!!!” Shuai picked up the pillow again and hit him repeatedly.

Chi Cheng didn’t even try to dodge. He let Shuai smack him while smiling softly, like every hit was adorable.

When Shuai finally ran out of strength, panting, Chi Cheng caught his wrist gently.

“Done, wifey?”

“SHUT UP!”

“Okay,” Chi Cheng said.

Shuai relaxed in relief.

Then Chi Cheng added,

“…For now.”

Shuai’s scream echoed through the room.

---

Morning sunlight slipped quietly through the curtains, settling on the two figures tangled beneath the blanket.

Chi Cheng didn’t remember how they ended up like this…

But Shuai was curled against him, one hand gently resting on Chi Cheng’s shirt, breathing soft and warm.

And Chi Cheng’s arm—completely on its own—had wrapped around Shuai’s waist.

Shuai blinked awake first.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t want to move.

The alpha’s body was warm, steady, and for the first time in forever, Shuai felt protected. His fingers unconsciously curled a little tighter into Chi Cheng’s shirt.

Chi Cheng groaned softly as his phone buzzed somewhere on the floor.

He buried his face into the Omega's hair, still half-asleep—until he opened his eyes…

…and saw Shuai staring at him with the softest sleepy eyes.

Cute.

Way too cute.

Chi Cheng forgot the phone existed for a whole three seconds.

His heartbeat stuttered—just once—before he cleared his throat and reached for the phone.

He looked at the screen.

And froze.

[MOM]: I’m outside. Ringing the bell. Open the door.

Chi Cheng sat up so fast Shuai bounced with him.

Shuai blinked. “W-What? What happened?”

Chi Cheng’s expression was pure panic—rare and almost funny.

He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“My…my mom is here.”

Shuai’s eyes widened. “RIGHT NOW?!”

The bell rang again, louder this time.

Ding dong. Ding dong.

Chi Cheng stared at the door as if it was a death sentence.

He looked back at Shuai—hair messy, cheeks warm from sleep, shirt slightly rumpled from cuddling.

“Don’t move,” Chi Cheng hissed in a whisper. “She’ll actually kill me.”

“Why?!”

“Because,” Chi Cheng muttered, pointing at their very obvious cuddling position, “ we’re married.”

Shuai’s face went crimson.

“I—I didn’t do anything, you FORCED me!”

“You tempt me first.”

“It wasn’t MY fault.”

Chi Cheng scratched his cheek, flustered but trying to act cool.

“…Doesn’t matter. Just—stay here. Don’t say anything. Don’t breathe loudly. Don’t—”

DING DONG. DING DONG. DING DONG.

Shuai squeaked. “She’s going to break the bell!”

Chi Cheng groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“This is worse than fighting those alphas yesterday.”

Shuai swallowed.