Chapter 5: Struggling
He Siming pressed down Jiang Rong’s hand that was messing with the buttons on his shirt. “What do you want me to do?”
Jiang Rong’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes rimmed with tears brought on by desire. “Mm… do what?”
His heat cycle wasn’t supposed to be this overwhelming, but after drinking a glass of alcohol, under its influence he felt a little dazed and was acting purely on instinct.
He Siming was stronger than Jiang Rong. With a slight use of strength in his waist and abdomen, he flipped over and pinned him down onto the soft bed.
Jiang Rong felt the world spin. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms tightly around He Siming’s neck.
His voice carried a sob as he spoke, sounding miserable. “Help me… I don’t want this either. Wuwu, it’s too uncomfortable.”
He Siming was helpless too. He hadn’t expected things to turn out like this. “You’ve been drugged. Either take a cold shower, or wait for the effects to wear off.”
Jiang Rong shook his head nonstop. Tears pooled in his eyes and slid down the corners as soon as he blinked, giving him a fragile, broken look.
“No, that’s not it. I wasn’t drugged. I’m in heat. Only an inhibitor can solve this, but there’s no inhibitor here. Only your pheromones can help me. Please… help me…”
He Siming had been a top student all his life. Even with his good family background and broad experience, he was still completely confused by Jiang Rong at this moment.
Was he even more muddled after being drugged? The things he was saying were getting stranger and stranger. Humans didn’t have heat cycles—only animals did.
“What heat cycle? What inhibitor? You’re sick. You’re talking nonsense because you’re drunk.”
Yes, drunk talk. It was stupid of him to even respond.
He Siming grabbed Jiang Rong’s hand as it fumbled inside his clothes. “Jiang Rong, can you hear what I’m saying?”
“I can hear you, but I’m uncomfortable. Please believe me, okay?” Jiang Rong struggled to get up, but He Siming held him down too firmly, and he couldn’t move.
He breathed in the scent on He Siming’s body. It smelled good, and it made him feel just a little better. Whether it was pheromones or not didn’t matter—so long as it helped.
In He Siming’s eyes at that moment, Jiang Rong was crying from discomfort. He felt a little panicked too, loosening his grip, his heart softening a bit. Had Jiang Rong always been this soft?
“All right, all right. I believe you.”
He Siming usually hadn’t paid much attention to this “invisible” roommate. Jiang Rong’s bangs always covered his eyes, making it hard to see his features, to the point where He Siming couldn’t even recall what he looked like before. But now, with a simple hairstyle and shorter bangs, Jiang Rong’s clean, handsome face was revealed. His looks were actually quite delicate.
Jiang Rong had a pair of beautiful phoenix eyes, slightly upturned at the corners. His brows were refined too, not as rough as other guys’. With his eyes misty with tears, he inspired even more sympathy. Thankfully, it was He Siming here tonight, and not just any man.
He Siming sighed inwardly for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. “Don’t move around for now. I’ll go boil some hot water. Drinking more water will help flush the drugs out of your system faster.”
Jiang Rong didn’t need such futile efforts. Just before He Siming got out of bed, he grabbed his hand again, looking pitiful as he begged, “Can I hold you? That might make it feel a little better.”
Seeing how miserable Jiang Rong was, eyes red from crying, He Siming’s heart softened further. “Fine.”
He sat down by the bed.
Jiang Rong didn’t care about anything else. He got up and hugged him from behind, greedily inhaling the pheromones from his body. But no matter how much he breathed in, it wasn’t enough. An omega’s inhibitor needed to be injected into the bloodstream to suppress a heat cycle and prevent pheromone leakage. Likewise, an alpha’s pheromones needed to mark an omega to bring balance. Simply inhaling pheromones was like trying to quench thirst by imagining plums—it only made Jiang Rong want more. He wanted He Siming’s scent to cover his entire body.
He Siming looked at the slender arms wrapped around him, hugging him tighter and tighter. He inexplicably felt like a plush pet being squeezed. He could hear Jiang Rong’s breathing growing heavier and more rapid—this wasn’t normal breathing.
His nose was completely filled with a rich peach fragrance—sweet but not cloying.
He Siming didn’t know why Jiang Rong smelled like this.
Held so tightly that he could barely move, he said, “Do you really not need me to go buy medicine for you? You’re burning up.”
Jiang Rong mustered a bit of strength to answer, “No. I’m not sick. It’s just that during this special period my body temperature is a bit higher than usual. That’s normal.”
“Where did this peach smell come from, anyway?” He Siming finally voiced his confusion.
“That’s my pheromone,” Jiang Rong said, focused only on the lime scent coming from He Siming and ignoring his own.
He Siming soothed him along, and it also happened to be true. “Mm, it’s a little sweet.” He thought that Jiang Rong, in his haze, was mistaking perfume for so-called “pheromones.” Better to placate him first.
Jiang Rong said, “Your pheromone smells like lime.”
He Siming wanted to laugh. “Does it? Smell good?” He even felt a bit mischievous.
But just as that mischievous thought surfaced, Jiang Rong’s hand became restless again, toying with the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing against his abs.
Tomorrow, he would definitely have to beat Ding Yan senseless. Alcohol ruined people; those who persuaded others to drink were even worse.
“He Siming, can you—”
“Of course not.” He Siming had to refuse. With the atmosphere like this, he didn’t need Jiang Rong to finish to know what he wanted.
“I haven’t even said anything yet.” Jiang Rong pulled off his jacket, then started taking off the thin shirt underneath.
He Siming: “…”
If he hadn’t personally seen Jiang Rong drink, and personally brought him out of the bar, he would’ve thought Jiang Rong was doing this on purpose.
He Siming turned around and grabbed his clothes back, stopping him from undressing. “Don’t take them off. You’ll catch a cold.”
“I’m really uncomfortable… it hurts…” Jiang Rong knew his pheromones were probably at their peak. He didn’t know how to endure it.
Seeing him cry as he undressed, sweat beading on his forehead, He Siming felt that he truly was in great pain.
He wiped away Jiang Rong’s tears. “Stop crying.”
With his upper body bare, Jiang Rong wasn’t skinny to the point of being bony. Lowering his head, He Siming saw collarbones tinged pink—so alluring it made one want to—
Jiang Rong pressed closer again. This time, instead of hugging him from behind, he half-kneeled on the bed and burrowed into his arms, hands climbing up to his lapel, head resting on his shoulder.
“He Siming, save me… wuwuwu~”
He Siming had never encountered a situation like this before.
It felt as if Jiang Rong had infected him too. His own body was heating up. He normally had a good tolerance for alcohol, yet now he felt a little tipsy. The room was once again wrapped in that peach scent, seeping into his very being.
He didn’t know why.
Was the room really that hot? He felt hot too, sweat starting to form on his back. Maybe he hadn’t opened the window; maybe it was just too warm inside.
As he was thinking, Jiang Rong—whose head had been resting on his shoulder—suddenly pressed even closer.
Unable to control himself, Jiang Rong pressed his lips directly against He Siming’s. He wanted to draw in everything related to pheromones from him.
He Siming stepped back and forcefully pushed him onto the bed. “Jiang Rong, you can’t.” He stood up as if fleeing. “I’ll run you a bath. Maybe that’ll help lower your temperature.”
Pushed onto the bed, Jiang Rong felt humiliated. He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, cocooning himself.
Even like this, He Siming still wouldn’t give him pheromones. “Wuu~”
It hurt, and it made him sad.
In their world, a famous omega once said: a person’s heat cycle is like an unevolved, lowly animal state—humiliating, resentful, yet unavoidable. The appearance of inhibitors was the greatest invention, freeing people from humiliation, from servility, from begging. Human civilization took a great step forward.
Yes, they were evolving. And yet Jiang Rong felt that right now, he was exactly that lowly, humiliated creature.
Despite his deep reluctance, he had no choice but to cry and beg a near-stranger for intimacy, humbly pleading for a little pheromone.
After cleaning the bathtub, He Siming filled it with water for Jiang Rong. In all his life, he’d never drawn a bath for anyone. Tonight, he’d really gone above and beyond.
But when he came out of the bathroom, he saw the white cocoon on the bed trembling with quiet sobs, the crying accompanied by desperately suppressed desire.
He Siming stood by the bed, not knowing how to comfort him.
After Jiang Rong cried for five minutes—and He Siming stood there like he was being punished for five minutes—he finally spoke. “The water’s ready. Why don’t you take a bath first?”
Jiang Rong was miserable, but he didn’t want to reject He Siming’s kindness. Maybe bathing would help a little.
With a face still wet from crying, his body swaying unsteadily, he lowered his head and stumbled into the bathroom without letting He Siming help him at all.
The sadness of rejection, layered with physical suffering.
The bathroom door wasn’t closed. He Siming felt relieved, yet also worried that Jiang Rong might drown in the tub.
It was quiet inside, except for occasional low moans Jiang Rong tried hard to suppress.
About fifteen minutes later, He Siming realized the symptoms didn’t seem to have eased at all. It sounded like Jiang Rong was crying again.
Afraid something might happen to him, He Siming went into the bathroom and saw Jiang Rong naked, arms resting on the edge of the tub, head buried between them.
As He Siming approached, he saw Jiang Rong biting his own arm.
The pain was too much. He could only bite himself to keep the agonized moans from spilling out.
“Why did you come in?” Jiang Rong said.
He saw the long, straight legs wrapped in jeans. The lime scent on He Siming wasn’t strong—very light, very faint—but it still stimulated him.
It was torture. He could see it, smell it, yet couldn’t have it. He couldn’t force a normal person to sleep with him.
In He Siming’s eyes, Jiang Rong looked like a drenched, abandoned kitten—pitifully gazing at him, making one want to cherish him.
At times like this, he couldn’t keep a cold face.
He squatted in front of Jiang Rong and asked, “Are you still uncomfortable? Don’t bite yourself.”
Jiang Rong had left a deep bite mark on his pale arm. “It hurts…”
“Did soaking help at all?”
Jiang Rong forced a very ugly smile. “It won’t help. Someone tried it long ago.”
He Siming said with concern, “If it doesn’t help, then don’t keep soaking. You’ll catch a chill.”
Jiang Rong held onto the tub to get down, but his legs were weak and wouldn’t cooperate. “Mm… I don’t have the strength to get up. Can you help me?”
He Siming had no choice. He couldn’t very well call Ding Yan over to take care of Jiang Rong. Privately, he didn’t want anyone else to see Jiang Rong like this—wet and seductive.
Jiang Rong was unconsciously tempting him.
He grabbed Jiang Rong’s arm and helped him up. His skin was smooth. He Siming rarely had physical contact with other men; just this touch made it hard for him to keep control.
Jiang Rong’s body slipped downward, and He Siming quickly wrapped an arm around his waist.
Jiang Rong had no strength at all. Once supported by He Siming, he leaned directly against him. He was almost being carried. Afraid he might fall back into the tub, He Siming simply scooped him up in a bridal carry, quickly carried him back to the bed, and dried him off with a towel.
Jiang Rong watched as He Siming did all this for him, his body trembling uncontrollably the entire time.
He Siming’s shirt had gotten wet too, clinging to his chest uncomfortably. He tugged at the lapel and realized that at some point, his shirt had already been pulled half open, exposing most of his chest.
He Siming: “…”
No need to think about who did that.
When Jiang Rong had splashed water on his face earlier, he’d also thought about asking He Siming to give him a simple mark. But He Siming definitely wouldn’t bite him—he didn’t even know how to mark an omega.
Jiang Rong lay prone on the bed, fingers clutching the sheets until his knuckles turned white.
“Mmm…” The heat cycle was burning away his willpower.
When He Siming approached again, Jiang Rong pulled away the blanket wrapped around him and faced him directly.
His eyes glistened with moisture. His entire body was flushed—whether from desire or from the steam, tinged with pink—like a ripe, dripping peach.
Jiang Rong looked at He Siming through tears and begged, “He Siming, do it with me. Please.”
