Around six the next morning, dazzling sunlight streamed through the curtain slits, forming a beam that landed on Ruan Shuyang’s eyelids. His curled lashes were bathed in golden light.
Ruan Shuyang opened his eyes groggily, surprised to find he’d slept straight through until dawn after collapsing from exhaustion.
He climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the second-floor shared bathroom to wash up. After freshening up, he returned to his room, picked up his phone, and saw several messages from Pei Siyue. He was asked about his feelings during the marking and reminded of several matters. Ruan Shuyang immediately sent an apologetic emoji, then explained: Sorry, I fell asleep as soon as I got home last night. Just saw your messages now.
Ruan Shuyang: My body feels normal now, and I don’t need pheromones for the time being. I got plenty yesterday.
He blushed as he typed “plenty,” then asked: Do I have to describe how it felt during the marking?
Could I skip that part? It’s embarrassing, and I’m too shy to talk about it.
Pei Siyue had a habit of early morning runs. Enigma’s energy was incredibly abundant, requiring him to find ways to burn it off. His usual methods were jogging and working out.
He rose around five each day for his run, ate breakfast starting at 6:30, and left for work by seven—typically one of the earliest arrivals at the office.
While eating breakfast, he’d pull out his phone to reply to messages and handle work matters. That’s how he saw Ruan Shuyang’s message during breakfast.
Are all Omegas this weak? One marking and they sleep for so long…
No wonder everyone who knows he’s an enigma advises him to find an alpha. Betas lack pheromones to comfort each other, and Omegas are too weak to handle an enigma’s demands.
But Pei Siyue only replied: “You need to report your feelings during marking too.”
Pei Siyue: “It concerns your experience with medication.”
Ruan Shuyang bit his lip, staring at the words on the screen. his small face scrunched up in distress. After a long struggle, he stammered out a reply: “…It was okay.”
After finishing breakfast, Pei Siyue finally got a reply. Seeing the words “It’s okay” on the screen, he signaled the driver to start the car while dialing the number directly.
Ruan Shuyang jumped when he saw Pei Siyue’s call, but mustered the courage to answer. He stammered, “Mr. Pei, good… good morning.”
“Good morning.”
Pei Siyue echoed the greeting but fell silent afterward. He neither hung up nor spoke again, patiently waiting for Ruan Shuyang to initiate conversation.
After several minutes, Ruan Shuyang broke the silence first, asking softly, “Mr. Pei, did you call early this morning for a specific reason?”
“Yes, I did.” Seated in the backseat, Pei Siyue instructed the driver to raise the partition. Once it was up, he placed his phone in the rear compartment’s card slot and activated speakerphone. The soft, sweet voice of the little omega instantly filled the entire space.
“I don’t think ‘It’s okay’ is sufficient feedback.” “ His voice was low, devoid of discernible emotion. ”Too brief.”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” Ruan Shuyang replied immediately, feeling ashamed. “I shouldn’t have been so brief.”
He shouldn’t have simplified his feelings out of shyness. That was his fault.
Pei Siyue had treated him without charge; he’d promised to cooperate and provide feedback. He should have been thorough and earnest, not perfunctory.
The young omega’s voice on the other end was thick with panic. Even through the phone, Pei Siyue could picture Ruan Shuyang’s flushed, nervous expression—his beautiful almond eyes wide with helplessness.
He loosened his tie, leaning back in his chair, his entire demeanor relaxing into languid ease.
“No need to apologize,” Pei Siyue soothed in a level tone. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to understand your specific feelings—was it pleasurable or uncomfortable? I hope you can describe it in detail.”
“I, I…”
Ruan Shuyang struggled several times but still couldn’t overcome his shyness to speak.
Marking was such an intimate act, that kind of feeling… How could he possibly put it into words?
Pei Siyue guided his with utmost patience, bit by bit: “Then first tell me why you trembled? You trembled constantly during yesterday’s marking, and by the end, you even had spasms.”
Ruan Shuyang kept his eyes closed, recalling yesterday’s marking. He stammered out his answer: “Bec… because your pheromones flowed… …flowing in. It felt sour and tingly…”
After that, he couldn’t control his trembling, his body no longer felt like his own.
“Hmm—” Pei Siyue pondered for a moment, then asked with an extremely calm tone, almost as if analyzing an academic question: “Why did it feel sour and tingly? Is your body not adapting to my pheromones?”
Ruan Shuyang clenched his teeth, his face flushing crimson. Suddenly, he felt a surge of petulant resentment toward Pei Siyue. Why did he have to make him talk about this?
It made him blush and his heart race, yet also left him feeling wronged. Why did he have to expose such intimate sensations to another person?
But then he reminded himself this was all for the research. Pei Siyue wanted to understand the patient’s experience. He blamed himself for agreeing yesterday without considering the details—not realizing the questions would be so intimate.
Finally, he murmured in a small, aggrieved voice, “Because I’m filled up. My body needs time to adjust.”
Before being marked, an emptiness had always gnawed at his core, unleashing waves of longing that swept over him. But after absorbing Pei Siyue’s pheromones, those waves gradually receded, leaving only a yearning to be filled.
Yet as his body adjusted to the unfamiliar sensation—enduring the baptism of pheromones—it trembled slightly.
“Filled…”
Pei Siyue repeated the two words in a low, hoarse voice. On the other end of the line, where Ruan Shuyang couldn’t see, his eyes darkened alarmingly. He opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a bottle of ice water, and tipped his head back, gulping down half of it.
Immediately after, Ruan Shuyang heard him ask, “Why does your body need to be filled?”
The question froze Ruan Shuyang in place. Shocked, he dropped his phone. A series of thuds echoed through the receiver. Pei Siyue heard his frantic apology: “Sorry, I didn’t hold the phone steady.”
“It’s fine.” Pei Siyue finished the remaining ice water and murmured reassuringly, “No need to be nervous. Think of me as your doctor treating you. You need to truthfully describe your symptoms and feelings to the doctor so they can give an accurate diagnosis.”
Ruan Shuyang whispered, “Mr. Pei, you can treat illnesses too?”
“I hold a medical doctorate and a physician’s license. I can send you the credentials if you’d like to see them later.”
“No need, thank you,” Ruan Shuyang replied immediately, showing no hint of doubt. “I was just curious—after all, you look like… well, an entrepreneur.”
“Entrepreneurs can study medicine too,” Pei Siyue patiently explained. “Several products from Ruiji Technology were personally developed by me, and I personally plan the R&D direction for all current projects in development.”
“Really?” Ruan Shuyang’s first reaction was: “Mr. Pei, you’re truly amazing and so accomplished.”
Developing so many high-quality products while also treating patients—truly remarkable.
Though he couldn’t afford Ruiji Tech’s products, he’d heard from other omega classmates that they were exceptionally effective. The barrier patches worked wonders, and the suppressants were safe, harmless, and free of side effects.
The only drawback was the price.
Of course, the cost wasn’t Ruiji’s flaw—Ruan Shuyang considered it his own shortcoming.
Pei Siyue didn’t wish to discuss his personal matters now, so he steered the conversation back: “So, as your doctor, may I hear your honest account of your condition? Why do you need to be filled?”
The subject returning to this made Ruan Shuyang flush instantly. A crimson blush spread across his fair cheeks. Even alone in his bedroom, he felt profoundly embarrassed, lowering his head nervously.
He comforted himself with the thought that his doctor was examining him and required an honest account of his condition. Closing his eyes, he murmured softly: When I used suppressants before, I always felt this emptiness inside me that couldn’t be filled. But when you marked me that day, it slowly started to fill up…”
The lily of the valley was thoroughly drenched, from its petals to its pistils, exuding a sweet fragrance.
Pei Siyue asked calmly, “Which suppressant were you using before?”
Ruan Shuyang named a suppressant. His meager funds only stretched to the cheapest kind, and he never dared hope Pan Lan would give him money for it. Asking for money would surely bring humiliation beyond measure.
Pei Siyue said, “That inhibitor isn’t effective. It merely suppresses your body’s instincts, but each suppression only breeds a deeper, more hidden desire. That’s why you feel a void inside—it’s your body’s instinct. There’s no need to fear or feel ashamed.”
“You must learn to face your instincts and accept them.”
After Pei Siyue finished speaking, Ruan Shuyang remained silent for several minutes. Then, in a soft, obedient voice, he said, “I’ll try my best, Mr. Pei.”
Pei Siyue was right. This was his nature. Being an omega meant possessing these instincts. Since the truth couldn’t be changed, he had to learn to face it, to accept it.
“Good.” Ruan Shuyang sensed a softening in Pei Siyue’s voice this time. “I understand why you tremble. So when you were marked, did it feel painful or pleasurable?”
Ruan Shuyang: !!!
He wanted to take back his earlier thought. Pei Siyue wasn’t gentle at all—he was practically a demon. Why was he asking about the sensations afterward?
Reluctantly, he muttered under his breath, “Do I have to talk about that too?”
“You must,” Pei Siyue informed him in a slow, non-negotiable tone. “I need to understand the experience during treatment so we can observe it specifically during future clinical trials.”
Ruan Shuyang wilted, unable to argue. Once it involved drug development and clinical trials—framed as such a lofty endeavor—he found it hard to refuse.
He stammered out an explanation: “At first, it was… kind of uncomfortable.”
Pei Siyue remained exceptionally patient as he asked, “Why was it uncomfortable?”
“Well… your pheromones exerted intense pressure. My body couldn’t adjust to that feeling of intrusion.”
“Hmm.” Pei Siyue acknowledged before pressing, “And then?”
“Then, it just… it just…”
“How did it feel?”
Ruan Shuyang, resigned to his fate, closed his eyes and blurted out, “It felt… kind of good.”
Pei Siyue raised an eyebrow, produced another bottle of ice water, and poured it in while asking calmly, “Why did it feel a bit good afterward?”
“I don’t know.” After being questioned so many times that morning, even Ruan Shuyang—who considered herself quite patient—began to resist. “Maybe it’s what you said, the body’s instinct.”
It was as if the lily of the valley, completely saturated by Pei Siyue’s water, began unfurling its petals to reveal the stamens within. It was being gently washed by the water, trembling minutely beneath the surface.
“Alright.”
This time, Pei Siyue cooperated without further questions, instead saying, “Last time, I had Chi Heng’s secretary send you some suppressants and barrier patches. Use those first. I’ll send more in the next couple of days. Don’t use the suppressants you bought yourself; they might interfere with the treatment results.”
“Is that… really necessary?” Ruan Shuyang murmured a quiet complaint inwardly, only to feel embarrassed the moment he heard the other was sending him supplies. “No need, Mr. Pei. It’s too much trouble for you.”
Pei Siyue: “It’s no trouble. This is part of ensuring accurate results. The company will provide the necessary experimental funding and supplies.”
Is that so?
Ruan Shuyang recalled seeing patients participating in clinical trials who did indeed receive medication and supplies.
He obediently replied, “Thank you, Mr. Pei.”
“You’re welcome.” Pei Siyue closed his eyes briefly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he lowered his voice. “I’ll make adjustments for the next marking session.”
Ruan Shuyang’s mouth fell open in surprise, his entire face flushing crimson.
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