After hanging up, Lu Shangjin leaned against the headboard for a while.
Later, he went up to the rooftop, resting against the railing to smoke a cigarette. A glance at the clock showed it was already four in the morning; soon the sky would brighten.
Finishing the cigarette, Lu Shangjin suddenly kicked over the small round table on the rooftop, stomping its carved wave-patterned leg until it snapped. He muttered a low curse, “Damn.”
He slumped down against the railing, his back pressing into the expanse of the night sky.
Why did he feel so restless?
Was the load balance in this house malfunctioning? Why did it feel so damn cold with just one person missing?
This uneasy agitation had appeared before—once, after he and Yan Yi had broken up.
That was why, when Yan Yi returned, vowing to serve as the villa’s steward, Lu Shangjin had not refused.
But as the hormones of passion cooled into a plain cup of water, trying to rekindle a flame that had already died felt pointless.
He would selfishly keep Yan Yi by his side, like a potted ivy decorating a garden—seeing him daily, yet freely ignoring him without thought.
He returned to the bedroom, sweeping the thin blanket and robe messily onto the floor. Pulling out his phone, one hand unconsciously pressed against the gland at the back of his neck, the other scrolling endlessly through his contacts.
Most of the omegas he had contacted before had no names, only numbers—1, 2, 3, and so on. Even scrolling to the bottom, there wasn’t a single contact he wanted to call.
He deleted contact after contact. By the time he had cleared almost all of them, he still couldn’t find what he sought.
When he finally regained awareness, his fingers had already instinctively dialed Yan Yi’s number.
Lu Shangjin sat on the carpet, somewhat disheveled, listening to the dial tone echoing, one ring after another.
In thirty years of life, he had never realized that waiting for someone to pick up a call could feel like this—indescribably anxious yet expectant, perhaps both, or perhaps just the sense of a familiar presence suddenly missing, something he couldn’t retrieve.
By the sixth ring, the other side answered.
“What is it?” Yan Yi’s voice was clear, seemingly still awake.
Lu Shangjin exhaled, half of the crawling, ant-like irritation in his chest dissipating. A small smile curved his lips. “I can’t sleep.”
Yan Yi gave a surprised, “Ah,” as he leaned against the bathroom door, listening to the young master’s midnight whim.
“Still awake,” Yan Yi’s voice carried gentle warmth even through the receiver. “Were you… angry just now?”
Lu Shangjin leaned casually against the bed, stretching his long legs across the carpet. “Not angry.”
But irritated.
“I… heard your voice hoarse. Smoke less.”
Lu Shangjin casually stubbed out the cigarette he had just lit in the ashtray. “Not smoking. Just dry. You’re not in bed? Where are you?”
Yan Yi hugged his phone, hesitating. He was in the bar lobby’s restroom, Xia Jingtian right by the counter.
Sensing something, Lu Shangjin suddenly straightened. “There’s another alpha with you?”
Yan Yi sighed. “Go to sleep. I have work tomorrow.”
The anger he’d felt when their video call was interrupted flared anew. “I asked if there’s someone else with you!”
Yan Yi was taken aback. “Don’t shout like that.”
“I warn you—when I’m not around, don’t get involved with anyone else.” Lu Shangjin’s tone rose uncontrollably. Pressing the gland at the back of his neck, he gripped his phone like he wanted to crush the little rabbit on the line.
“What do you mean ‘get involved’? Why? Why can you, but I can’t?” Yan Yi’s indignation mirrored Lu Shangjin’s, even as he had just forced away an M2 alpha’s hand. Would he push away an omega delivered into his arms by Lu Shangjin?
“Try me,” Lu Shangjin relaxed slightly, but still wouldn’t yield in the conversation, leaving a harsh warning: “I won’t touch you. I’ll touch him.”
Like a family heirloom that must not bear a stranger’s fingerprints, Lu Shangjin couldn’t tolerate Yan Yi carrying another alpha’s scent.
Allowing Yan Yi to work at a husky alpha’s store was only because he unconsciously felt the husky posed no threat—low rank, ordinary looks, unremarkable abilities.
“The dog’s been hanging around you?” Lu Shangjin snapped. “Tomorrow I’ll buy up the street. You can choose any store you want.”
Of course, if he guessed correctly, a dead dog might appear on that street.
“My boss’s asleep long ago. You’re always like this.” Yan Yi’s voice was weary and disappointed. “I don’t want to argue. I’m going to bed.”
Lu Shangjin softened. “Good, then. I’ll come see you in a few days.”
After a pause of ten seconds or more, neither hung up. They seemed to want to say more, but found no words.
Frustrated, Lu Shangjin hung up and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face.
From the medical kit behind the mirror, he pulled two doses of aphrodisiac suppressants, biting open the seals and injecting into the gland at the back of his neck.
His hands pressed against the sink, eyes bloodshot in the mirror, stubble unshaven. These days had passed like a rough outline, details of life pushed to the back of his mind.
Taking three deep breaths, Lu Shangjin closed his eyes, letting out a bitter smile.
Little demon.
He hadn’t injected suppressants in years and had forgotten the numbing, slight pain. It was uncomfortable.
While tidying the kit, he found an unopened roll of suppressants in the corner, each marked with a cute carrot-shaped sticker for easy distinction.
Lu Shangjin picked up one, reading the syringe: “High-concentration suppressants,” suitable for A3 glands, mutated enhanced glands, and glands resistant to long-term suppressant use. Note: intravenous injection; do not inject directly into the gland.