Chapter 2
Sometimes, Lin Song’an really wanted to strangle Tan Ning.
He wondered if, in the face of death, Tan Ning would show any emotional fluctuation.
Afraid of seeing his own reflection in those calm, amber eyes, he bit down on Tan Ning’s slender neck.
Instinctively, Tan Ning arched his back.
Like a trapped crane.
Tan Ning didn’t struggle, which only intensified the restless fire in Lin Song’an’s heart. Unable to resist, he left deep teeth marks on the smooth, porcelain-like skin of Tan Ning’s neck. Tan Ning had already gone limp in his arms, unable to move a single muscle. Even when bitten, he merely let out a soft whimper, unable to react in any other way.
There were still tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, but when Lin Song’an turned to look, the tears had already vanished.
Outside the car window, dusk was deepening; inside, an intimate atmosphere prevailed.
Faintly, they could hear the laughter of students passing by the alley entrance and the honking of cars during the evening rush hour. These sounds blended together but were drowned out in the confined space of the car, fading amidst their closeness, becoming a fragmented background noise that kept Tan Ning from getting too distracted.
Even outside of his susceptible period, Lin Song’an could exhibit the aggressiveness of a top-tier alpha.
Each time they were together, Tan Ning’s body would be left with bruises—some from kisses, some from the pressure of Lin Song’an’s large hands, or from bumping against the front seat due to overly vigorous movements. Because Tan Ning’s skin was so fair, even a little force would leave marks, making him look rather pitiful.
Feeling a bit guilty, Lin Song’an wanted to apologize but couldn’t bring himself to say it, so he carefully held Tan Ning in his arms.
Tan Ning had taken biology classes and knew that an alpha’s susceptible period was similar to an omega’s heat—it was uncontrollable. As a beta, he could somewhat empathize with the physiological struggles that Lin Song’an faced, but he couldn’t understand why Lin Song’an seemed to lose control every time they were together.
They met at least twice a month, yet each time, Lin Song’an gave Tan Ning a sense of impending doom, as if they would part forever after this encounter.
Tan Ning was truly puzzled.
As the sky darkened and streetlights flickered on, a dim yellow lamp at the alley entrance illuminated the windshield, making their surroundings suddenly clearer. Lin Song’an planted a gentle kiss on the marks he’d left on Tan Ning’s shoulder.
Neither of them spoke, tacitly enjoying the rare warmth in the aftermath.
The slender beta didn’t feel particularly soft to the touch, but he had a waist that one could almost encircle with a single hand and prominent shoulder blades. The delicate wing-like scapula on his back was especially captivating on Tan Ning, carrying a fatal allure. When he turned his back to Lin Song’an, Lin Song’an always felt that he might fly away the next second, so he held him tightly.
Now, Lin Song’an buried his face in Tan Ning’s chest.
Tan Ning felt a bit helpless; he didn’t understand why Lin Song’an was so fixated on that spot.
It wasn’t until he felt a bit of pain from being bitten that he said, “That’s enough.”
Lin Song’an then stopped.
Sitting on Lin Song’an’s lap, Tan Ning stared blankly out the car window. After half a minute, he regained his composure, propped up his sore body, crawled to the front seat to grab a few wet wipes, cleaned himself up, and then got dressed.
Lin Song’an was watching him.
Immune to Lin Song’an’s gaze, Tan Ning found a thin black hair tie from between the car seats. He raised his hands to tie up his loose hair, saying nothing.
His pupils were very light—a unique shade of amber—which always gave him a dazed look. It was hard for Lin Song’an to discern his emotions, so he would provoke him to elicit a reaction.
As Tan Ning raised his hands to tie his hair, the hem of his hoodie lifted, revealing a section of his waist. Lin Song’an recalled the sensation of gripping it firmly and reached out to touch it. Tan Ning didn’t avoid his touch.
Unaware himself, Tan Ning was now covered with the scent of an alpha, and ambiguous marks peeked out from beneath his hoodie on his neck and wrists.
As the atmosphere grew more intimate, Lin Song’an withdrew his hand. Tan Ning continued to tie up half of his long hair and then leaned over to pick up his backpack.
His movements when preparing to leave were always crisp and efficient, as if he hadn’t been the one pleading for a stop just moments ago.
Lin Song’an put on his clothes, rolled down the car window slightly to let out the lingering warmth, and fastened the last button of his shirt as the cool evening breeze gently blew in.
To say he wasn’t disappointed would be a lie.
He must have been out of his mind to think that Tan Ning sitting next to him that afternoon was a deliberate gesture, perhaps even a form of coquettishness. He was bewitched by Tan Ning, disregarding their agreed-upon time limits and the risks of parking the car so close to the school—what if someone recognized them? Almost impatiently, the moment Tan Ning appeared, he had pulled him into the car.
He thought Tan Ning knew it was his birthday today, but reality proved he was just being self-indulgent.
Tan Ning couldn’t possibly care.
Yet he still harbored a sliver of hope, wishing that during the past two hours, Tan Ning might have said something—anything. Even a moment of hesitation, a fleeting initiative, a brief smile would have sufficed; he would have been content.
But unfortunately, Tan Ning hadn’t changed. Just like every time before—resistant, annoyed, reluctantly compliant, and forced to endure.
“Tan Ning, do you have a heart?”
Lin Song’an reached out and placed his hand over where Tan Ning’s heart was, asking again, “Does your heart ever move?”
Tan Ning glanced at his phone to check the time.
“No, it doesn’t.”
Lin Song’an laughed self-deprecatingly. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Did you just realize?” Tan Ning put his phone back into his pocket and said, “Our two hours are up. I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going for tutoring? I’ll drive you.”
“No need,” Tan Ning declined firmly. For a moment, Lin Song’an couldn’t tell who was buying whom.
Lin Song’an watched him leave.
Tan Ning’s figure quickly disappeared at the mouth of the alley.
He was always watching Tan Ning leave, from a year ago until now, as if nothing had changed.
Turning around, Lin Song’an lay back on the rear seat, pressing a hand to his forehead. The air still held a faint, elusive fragrance. Even though Tan Ning was a beta without pheromones, Lin Song’an always imagined that if he had any, it would be the scent of a poisonous orchid.
At first whiff, it seemed bland, but it made one unconsciously addicted.
By the time he realized it, he was already hopelessly entangled.
*
After circling the backstreets near the school twice and looping the same song nearly twenty times, Tan Ning finally returned to the dormitory.
Zheng Yu was playing a game. Hearing the door open, he nonchalantly took off his headphones and turned up the game volume, filling the room with the jarring sounds of battle.
Tan Ning’s whole body ached—his waist and back were sore. The evening breeze had scattered the alpha scent clinging to him but had also chilled his already exhausted body. He had neither the energy nor the inclination to deal with this roommate who was always at odds with him.
He tried to recall the root of their conflict.
It seemed that ever since the beginning of the semester, when his photos frequently appeared on the school’s confession wall, Zheng Yu had started to dislike him.
Utterly baffling.
He put down his backpack and, after a simple wash, climbed into bed.
A few minutes later, a classmate from the next room came knocking. Standing at the door, he asked, “Did you see the list for this year’s Tianhe Scholarships? Your roommate, Tan Ning, got second prize.”
Xu Qingyang gave him a look, signaling that Tan Ning was in the room, but the classmate didn’t notice and continued, “He really made a scene today. The entire focus of the joint meeting was on him. Dean Jiang was furious but couldn’t express it in front of the Business School dean and Lin Song’an. After the meeting, he went down with a dark face and asked the counselor which class that student was from, saying he had no sense of discipline.”
Zheng Yu sneered. The classmate took a few steps inside, gossiping, “I heard he even offended Lin Song’an this time. Who dares to act recklessly in front of a prince like Lin Song’an—”
Suddenly, the classmate noticed the gray and white striped backpack on the chair. His words caught in his throat, and he coughed awkwardly. Then he looked toward Tan Ning’s bed; the curtains were drawn, and the small lamp by the bed was on.
Clearly, someone was there.
At that moment, Tan Ning lifted the curtain, slightly raising himself to look at the classmate below.
His chestnut-colored long hair was tucked behind his ear, revealing his entire face.
The classmate trembled. He had never looked directly at Tan Ning before. On the rare occasions, they passed each other on the stairs, Tan Ning always had his head down, his features hidden behind the long hair falling by his face. He always wore loose clothing, leaving an impression of nothing but thinness and paleness. Coupled with the eerie rumors circulating in the college, the classmate always thought Tan Ning must look like a ghost.
But now, he was completely stunned.
The small lamp by the bed cast a soft glow on Tan Ning’s delicate features, making him appear somewhat ethereal—different from how he looked in the auditorium that afternoon, possessing an indescribable aura, almost otherworldly.
He looked down with calm eyes, neither angry nor smiling. His voice was cool as ice, carrying a calmness that instilled fear: “Were you talking about me?”
The question sounded simple.
He didn’t seem threatening at all; he didn’t even show any emotion toward the classmate who had just spoken ill of him behind his back. Yet, all three people present unconsciously held their breath.
The classmate was terrified, his face turning red. He hurriedly apologized, “N-no, I wasn’t.”
Tan Ning didn’t press further.
Scared out of his wits, the classmate stammered, “S-sorry! I’m really sorry, Tan… Tan Ning. I wasn’t talking about you. My apologies!” Then he quickly made his escape.
After dealing with this, Tan Ning glanced at Zheng Yu. For some reason, Zheng Yu’s hand, which was holding the mouse, twitched, and he instinctively closed the game window. By the time he realized what he’d done, it was too late. He was so annoyed that his face turned livid.
All because Tan Ning gave him a single look. What was he afraid of?
The noise in the dorm finally subsided, returning to the quiet that Tan Ning preferred. He let down the bed curtain and lay back down.
He took out his phone to calculate his savings. The second-place prize from the Tianhe Scholarship would be credited after the announcement period ended.
This month, he had done two tutoring sessions and slept with Lin Song’an twice, earning quite a bit.
Just then, a message from Lin Song’an arrived—a transfer notification. Lin Song’an had sent him ten thousand yuan.
Tan Ning hesitated for a moment and transferred the money back.
[Not going to take the money?]
Tan Ning knew that Lin Song’an was deliberately testing him. Earlier that evening in the car, he could sense Lin Song’an’s anger.
He replied: [Isn’t the market rate two thousand?]
Lin Song’an didn’t message him again, probably quite upset.
Transferring all the WeChat funds to his bank account, Tan Ning stared at the steadily increasing numbers, regulating his breathing.
As the night deepened, sleepiness overcame him.
When he turned over, he still felt significant discomfort between his legs. This time, Lin Song’an had been too hasty, not giving him much time to relax. After all, betas weren’t omegas; with the influence of pheromones, omegas could easily accommodate an alpha’s intrusion. Especially with a top-tier alpha like Lin Song’an, without a compatible omega, most people couldn’t handle it.
If only there were pheromones…
As soon as this thought emerged, Tan Ning dismissed it. He never wasted time on meaningless suppositions.
In the still of the night, Tan Ning turned off the small lamp by his bed.
He reached his hand under the pillow, where two small leather boxes lay beside his down pillow—one old, one new. The old one had clearly been handled frequently, its sheen long gone; the other was brand new, as if it had been purchased not long ago.
Turning off the small lamp, Tan Ning rested his slender fingers on the small boxes, much like a child clutching a security blanket, and soon fell asleep.
