“Mhm.” Pei Siyue tilted his head slightly, extending his middle finger to gently flick Ruan Shuyang’s nose. “Coming back to find you waiting with a surprise—offering to help me with my illness.”
Ruan Shuyang felt terribly embarrassed, clutching his clothes and stammering, “I-I’m terribly sorry to trouble you.”
In the basement, Pei Siyue switched on the light, donned gloves, and disinfected them before stepping before Ruan Shuyang. His voice was deep as he instructed, “Open your eyes wide.”
Ruan Shuyang strained to widen his eyes, looking at Pei Siyue helplessly, his expression seeming to ask if he was doing it right.
Pei Siyue said, “Open them wider.”
Ruan Shuyang widened them further, almost glaring at Pei Siyue.
Pei Siyue, however, seemed dissatisfied and let out a soft “tsk.” He reached out with his gloved hand, lifted his eyelids, and told her, “Not wide enough.”
Ruan Shuyang: “…”
Waaah, being examined is so hard.
Pei Siyue: “Bear with it.”
Pei Siyue lifted Ruan Shuyang’s chin, his hand gently lifting the eyelid as he ordered in a low voice, “Look down.”
Ruan Shuyang looked down at his toes.
“Look up.”
Ruan Shuyang looked up at the ceiling.
The sensation of his eyelids being lifted felt strange. He whispered, “Is it done yet?”
“It’s done.”
Pei Siyue removed his gloves and sat across from Ruan Shuyang, his expression solemn as he stared at him with eyes as dark and deep as the night.
“Why did you stay up late last night? Why were you crying?”
Ruan Shuyang answered instinctively, “I accidentally watched a drama too late last night. It was so heartbreaking, I cried…”
Then he caught himself: “My red eyes are from staying up late. Crying?”
Pei Siyue: “…”
He rubbed his temples, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
He’d considered countless possibilities—maybe he’d been wronged, or someone from the Ruan family had bullied or threatened him. He never imagined it would be this reason.
Pei Siyue himself didn’t watch melodramas and wouldn’t cry over them, but thinking about Ruan Shuyang—only eighteen, still at an age where one enjoyed watching shows and cried over melodramas—made it understandable.
It was understandable, but staying up late was not something he could condone.
Pei Siyue explained, “Your eyes are bloodshot, your eyelids are puffy, and you have dark circles. You must have stayed up late last night and cried. Did you rub your eyes while crying?”
Ruan Shuyang nodded.
“Don’t rub them next time,” Pei Siyue cautioned. “Rubbing your eyes while crying can easily cause infection. Your redness is from an infection.”
Ruan Shuyang immediately replied, “Okay, I won’t rub them. Can my eyes still be treated?”
“Yes, they can.”
Pei Siyue stood up, retrieved a bottle of eye drops from the medicine cabinet, walked over to Ruan Shuyang, set it down, then turned to put on gloves and disinfect his hands.
Ruan Shuyang hurriedly said, “Is it to apply these eye drops? I can do it myself, no need to trouble you.”
“I’ll do it.”
Ruan Shuyang folded his hands on his knees and waited quietly for Pei Siyue to administer the drops.
After disinfecting his gloves, Pei Siyue held the eye drops in one hand while using the other to gently pull Ruan Shuyang’s eyelid open. Leaning closer, he instructed, “Look down.”
Pei Siyue’s handsome face loomed large in Ruan Shuyang’s vision. His scent pressed down, and Ruan could feel the other’s pheromones.
With his eye no longer a concern, Pei Siyue’s presence suddenly felt overwhelmingly real.
Unconsciously, Ruan stared blankly at Pei Siyue, his body instinctively going limp, aching to collapse into the other’s embrace.
He missed Pei Siyue so, so much.
His daze lasted a little too long, snapped back to reality only when Pei Siyue tapped him with the cool bottle of eye drops.
He caught a glimpse of Pei Siyue’s eyes, seemingly holding a hint of amusement, and dared not look again, quickly shifting his gaze to the floor.
The eye drops were administered. Afterward, Pei Siyue instructed him to close his eyes and roll his eyeballs. Ruan Shuyang obediently complied.
“Apply the drops once in the morning and once at night. It should clear up in three days.”
Ruan Shuyang nodded. “Okay.”
“But…” His tone turned serious as he looked at Ruan Shuyang. “You absolutely cannot stay up late these next few days. No rubbing your eyes, and no crying either.”
Ruan Shuyang froze, then looked at Pei Siyue pitifully. “But… what if I still want to watch dramas?”
Pouting, Ruan Shuyang thought of the drama he hadn’t finished watching yet. The thought of not being able to continue felt unbearable, like countless tiny kittens clawing at his heart, leaving him restless and unable to sit still.
Pei Siyue watched Ruan Shuyang’s expression—his little face scrunched up, his clear almond-shaped eyes misty, looking as if he might cry at any moment if he said “no.”
“You can watch,” he said slowly. “But you must be in bed asleep by eleven every night. No staying up late.”
“If I catch you staying up late…”
He paused meaningfully.
Ruan Shuyang asked nervously, “What will happen?”
“You’ll be punished.” Pei Siyue tapped Ruan Shuyang’s head lightly with his knuckles. “Disobedient children get punished, but obedient children get rewards.”
“Come on, let’s go upstairs for breakfast.”
Once they left the basement and sat in the dining room, Ruan Shuyang felt less tense.
He pulled up a chair beside Pei Siyue and asked, “When did you get back? Are you tired? Do you want to rest?”
“Just got here an hour ago.”
He’d rushed home immediately upon landing. He’d expected the little one to be missing him terribly—after all, the kid had been clamoring to sleep in his room just days ago. But who knew the little rascal would stay up late watching soap operas, crying his eyes red? He didn’t seem to miss him at all.
Heartless little brat.
Upon hearing he’d arrived an hour ago, Ruan Shuyang looked disappointed. “I was planning to drive to the airport to pick you up.”
Unfortunately, that chance was gone now. Pei Siyue hadn’t mentioned when he’d be back yesterday, and Ruan Shuyang had assumed it would be in the evening.
Pei Siyue’s lips curved upward, his mood finally lifting a bit.
“Next time.”
After breakfast, they prepared to drive to work.
When Pei Siyue was around, the chauffeur was usually absent. Ruan Shuyang felt eager to show off and wanted to drive Pei Siyue to the company himself.
Pei Siyue sat in the driver’s seat and informed Ruan Shuyang, “Driving a supercar is different from driving a regular sedan.”
After getting in, Ruan Shuyang carefully studied the supercar’s control panel. Finding it indeed quite different, he abandoned the idea of driving himself and decided to master the supercar first before taking it out.
The car drove straight to the company. After arriving, Pei Siyue went directly to a meeting, leaving Ruan Shuyang alone in the office drawing design sketches.
With over a week’s worth of work piled up, Pei Siyue was swamped all morning. After lunch with Ruan Shuyang, he headed to the Pei Corporation office that afternoon, returning to Ruiji around 6 PM. He dragged Ruan Shuyang out for dinner before heading home, arriving past 8 PM.
Pei Siyue took out the eye drops, carefully examining Ruan Shuyang’s eyes before applying them. He noticed they were already much better than in the morning. After instructing him not to stay up late watching dramas or rub his eyes anymore, he put the eye drops away.
After stowing the eye drops, Pei Siyue didn’t leave. He remained standing by the bed in Ruan Shuyang’s room, looking down at him from above.
Ruan Shuyang’s heartbeat quickened involuntarily. The closer Pei Siyue drew, the weaker his own strength felt.
In a soft, velvety voice, he asked, “Is there something else, Brother?”
Pei Siyue’s fingers slid down Ruan Shuyang’s cheek to the nape of his neck, his voice low and warning, “You seem to have forgotten something.”
Ruan Shuyang flushed, unable to meet Pei Siyue’s dark, intense gaze. He hadn’t forgotten, but he didn’t know how to tell Pei Siyue—
He wasn’t good at making requests, because he wasn’t allowed to.
Pei Siyue peeled off the gland patch at the back of his neck and pressed his thumb lightly against the gland.
A tingling sensation spread from the gland to his lower back. He let out a soft moan and collapsed involuntarily into Pei Siyue’s embrace.
Pei Siyue guided him to sit on the bedside, wrapping an arm around Ruan Shuyang’s shoulder as he asked in a low, intoxicating voice, “Want it?”
Pheromones radiated from Pei Siyue, immersing Ruan Shuyang like water. His glands oozed clear fluid.
He unconsciously clamped his legs together, gripping Pei Siyue’s clothes. He vaguely felt he should say something, yet the words wouldn’t come.
He hadn’t seen Pei Siyue for over a week. Though the pheromone extract helped treat him, he still missed the feeling of having Pei Siyue by his side.
The pheromone extract couldn’t replace a real marking. He wanted Pei Siyue to mark him.
Mark him fiercely.
The thought made him tremble all over, yet he didn’t know how to say it.
“Remember what I told you?” Pei Siyue reminded him. “If you want it, just tell me.”
The water surrounding Ruan Shuyang rippled gently, wave after wave lapping at him like the sea, yet refusing to surge in, refusing to satisfy him.
Ruan Shuyang wondered if Pei Siyue was teasing him with pheromones again—why did he have to say it out loud?
But his mind wasn’t clear enough now to grasp such complex thoughts.
He only knew he wanted it desperately, desperately.
With a tremor in his voice, he whispered, “I want it. I want it so badly.”
The next instant, Pei Siyue pinned him onto the bed. Ruan Shuyang landed face-down on the soft quilt as Pei Siyue pressed down from behind, leaving an exceptionally deep temporary mark.
It had been too long since Ruan Shuyang had pheromones injected into his gland. He whimpered softly, unable to tell if it was discomfort or pleasure, but this long-forgotten sensation made him want to cry uncontrollably.
This time, the marking was much gentler than before he left. The pheromones weren’t overwhelming to the point of unbearable, slowly receding only after he was satisfied.
As he withdrew, Pei Siyue gently licked the droplet of blood from the gland.
Having gone over a week without being marked, Ruan Shuyang had become exceptionally sensitive, trembling at the slightest touch.
Curled up, he murmured through sobs, “No, please stop.”
“Alright.”
Pei Siyue refrained from touching his gland again. Straightening up, he gazed at Ruan Shuyang—his face flushed crimson, eyes hazy after the marking—then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. His fingers traced Ruan Shuyang’s cheek as he asked in a husky voice, “Are you okay?”
After the marking, even Enigma’s touch felt pleasurable to him.
Ruan Shuyang buried his face in the pillow, his muffled voice replying, “No.”
After a moment, he amended, “I’m… I’m okay.”
But he remained completely hidden beneath the covers, refusing to look at Pei Siyue. The tips of his ears, the only part exposed, were bright red.
He’s embarrassed, Pei Siyue thought, watching Ruan Shuyang’s childish reaction with a helpless smile.
He stayed a little longer, but seeing Ruan Shuyang still too shy to show his face, he stood up and said, “I’m going back to my room. Get some rest. If you need anything, come find me next door.”
Soon after, Ruan Shuyang heard the door close. Peeking out from under the covers, he found himself alone in the room.
Pei Siyue’s pheromones lingered in the air, but the man himself was gone.
He couldn’t quite tell if he felt relieved or disappointed. After sitting on the bed for a while, he washed up, changed into pajamas, and prepared for sleep.
But after turning off the light and lying down, sleep wouldn’t come.
This time, Pei Siyue’s mark hadn’t lasted very long. Though exhausted, he wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep immediately. Lying in bed for a while only made him feel increasingly awake.
He couldn’t stop replaying the marking incident in his mind.
Every time he was marked, he seemed to perform terribly, embarrassingly so. He always ended up doing things in a daze that he’d never dare do when fully conscious.
Looking back now, those actions were so cringe-worthy he could practically roll around in bed from embarrassment.
The more he thought about it, the more alert he became.
He stared hopelessly at the ceiling in the darkness, utterly unable to sleep.
Maybe he should watch a couple more episodes of that soap opera. He hadn’t finished it yesterday, and because Pei Siyue had come back, he hadn’t dared watch it during the day at work. He was only halfway through and was curious about what happened next.
He picked up his phone from the nightstand and checked the time. It was only ten o’clock at night, still an hour away from the eleven o’clock deadline Pei Siyue had set. If he kept an eye on the time while watching, he wouldn’t break Pei Siyue’s rule.
The thought appealed to him, but in the end, he couldn’t resist the soap opera’s lure. He turned on the bedside lamp, cradled his tablet, and started watching. To catch up faster, he even fast-forwarded, hoping to squeeze in more episodes within the hour.
The soap opera’s plot was too gripping. Before he knew it, he’d lost track of time and was crying again.
Time flew by while watching the show, slipping through his fingers. When he finally checked the time again, it was already midnight.
The sky had fallen.
He clearly remembered watching quickly and not seeing much. How could it already be midnight?
Waaah, what do I do now that I’ve messed up?
He dared not delay any longer. He quickly shut off his tablet and bedside lamp, then lay down to sleep.
But whether it was from crying too long earlier, he tossed and turned for a long while before finally drifting off.
The next day was Saturday, so he didn’t set an alarm. When he woke up, it was already past eight in the morning, and he still hadn’t slept well.
Standing before the mirror while washing up, he saw his eyes were red again.
He stared despairingly at his reflection—dark circles under his eyes, a haggard complexion, and bloodshot eyes.
Pei Siyue was so sharp and knew medicine; she’d surely see at a glance that he’d stayed up late watching dramas and crying again last night.
What should he do…
Pei Siyue disliked deception; he certainly wouldn’t want to hear lies.
After much deliberation, Ruan Shuyang decided to muster his courage, confess his mistake proactively, and seek leniency.
After changing clothes, he nervously opened the door and descended the stairs. Unsurprisingly, Pei Siyue sat in the first-floor living room, handling work on his laptop.
He stood beside Pei Siyue, hands clasped in front of him, twisting his fingers anxiously. His head hung low, even his soft hair looking listless.
Pei Siyue noticed Ruan Shuyang hadn’t sat down after coming downstairs but stood beside him instead. After a moment of thoughtful observation, he asked, “What happened?”
“I made a mistake,” Ruan Shuyang admitted voluntarily. Though fear made his voice tremble slightly, he didn’t hide anything. “I couldn’t sleep last night and ended up watching shows. Before I knew it, it was past midnight. I didn’t turn off the lights and go to sleep until then.”
Pei Siyue showed little emotion upon hearing this, his tone flat as he said, “Look up. Look at me.”
Ruan Shuyang obediently lifted his head, nervously meeting Pei Siyue’s gaze.
Pei Siyue closed his laptop and placed it on the coffee table. He tilted his head back slightly to look at Ruan Shuyang standing beside him. Even though Pei Siyue was looking up at her, Ruan Shuyang still felt an overwhelming pressure.
Pei Siyue possessed an exceptionally strong presence; his serious, unsmiling demeanor always carried an air of pressure.
He scrutinized Ruan Shuyang’s face intently. The fair, clean skin bore noticeable dark circles, and the redness in his eyes was more pronounced than the night before. It was obvious he’d stayed up late and cried.
Such disregard for his own health truly deserved punishment.
He asked slowly, “Since you’re so disobedient, how do you think I should punish you?”
Ruan Shuyang recalled past punishments, closed his eyes, and said in a tearful voice, “Could you hit me a little softer?”
Pei Siyue didn’t say yes or no. He merely patted the wide sofa beside him. “Get on it.”
Ruan Shuyang was terrified, yet he obediently positioned himself on the sofa beside Pei Siyue. Once in place, he clenched his fists tightly, shut his eyes, and braced himself for the storm to come.
Pei Siyue looked down at Ruan Shuyang, who was visibly tense and frightened yet still obediently compliant.
The young omega was slender all over, with skin stretched thin over his ribs. Only his buttocks were rounded and pert, beautifully shaped.
He watched for a moment before raising his hand.
Ruan Shuyang flinched at the sharp whistling wind, shivering as he curled up, his fists clenching tighter. Fear made his eyes shut tight.
After observing him for a moment, he raised his hand.
Ruan Shuyang flinched at the sharp whistling sound, curling his body into a ball. His fists clenched tighter, fear making his eyelashes tremble as he shut his eyes tightly.
But the next second, something landed softly on his buttocks, merely a gentle rub.
He opened his eyes in disbelief, seeing Pei Siyue calmly observing him, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Scared?”
Ruan Shuyang nodded blankly.
He really had been scared. Hearing that loud wind noise, he’d expected a painful beating, but instead, it was just a pat on the butt.
He asked in confusion, “Aren’t you going to hit me?”
“As long as you remember this lesson,” Pei Siyue said, ruffling his hair, “whether I hit you or not doesn’t matter.”
“You really won’t hit me?”
Pei Siyue replied slowly, “Staying up late to binge-watch shows? That doesn’t warrant a beating.”
“Or… do you want me to hit you?”
Ruan Shuyang shook his head immediately, shaking it frantically, but for some reason, as he shook, his eyes stung.
Gradually, tears fell like beads from a broken string.
Pei Siyue frowned, lifted Ruan Shuyang onto his lap, and gently soothed him by hugging his shoulders. “Stop crying.”
“I didn’t hit you. Why are you still crying?”
Ruan Shuyang couldn’t speak, only shaking his head.
Pei Siyue sighed helplessly, pulling out a tissue to wipe his tears. “Stop crying. Your eyes are already red; crying more will only make them redder.”
Ruan Shuyang stared at Pei Siyue’s gentle, handsome face mere inches away. After several minutes, he choked out, “It’s not… it’s not about you. I just… I just want to cry.” ”
He just wanted to cry.
He always cried in front of Pei Siyue. Perhaps it was because Pei Siyue was too good—so good that he couldn’t help but cry.
Pei Siyue had shown him that making mistakes didn’t always mean punishment, that he too could live happily.
Pei Siyue stroked Ruan Shuyang’s hair, guessing he might be recalling events at the Ruan household. He didn’t try to console him further, just held him while wiping away his tears.
Ruan Shuyang carried a heavy burden inside. Letting his emotions out was better than bottling them up until they made him sick.
After a long while, Ruan Shuyang finally stopped crying. Clutching Pei Siyue’s clothes, he asked, “So under what circumstances would you hit me?”
Pei Siyue looked at Ruan Shuyang, his gaze deepening. “If you betray me…”
But he shook his head mid-sentence. “Never mind. I still wouldn’t hit you.”
“Betray you?”
Ruan Shuyang didn’t understand what that meant. He didn’t know the definition of betrayal, so how could he possibly betray Pei Siyue?
He wouldn’t betray himself, let alone Pei Siyue.
But Pei Siyue didn’t explain.
For now, Ruan Shuyang was too dense for such words to sink in.
Since Ruan Shuyang wasn’t getting it now, explaining was pointless.
When he finally understood, if he dared seek out another enigma or alpha, Pei Siyue wouldn’t hit him—but he would lock him up.
That was the definition of betrayal.
But seeing the look on Pei Siyue’s face, Ruan Shuyang didn’t press further.
He could now interpret some of Pei Siyue’s expressions. That look meant further questions were pointless.
He nestled into Pei Siyue’s embrace, rubbing his cheek against the other’s shoulder. “Big brother, you’re so kind,” he murmured softly.
Pei Siyue gently lifted Ruan Shuyang’s chin and said slowly, “Next time you make a mistake, if you don’t want to be punished, you can try sweet-talking me.”
Ruan Shuyang’s voice was full of confusion. “Sweet-talking?”
He didn’t know how to act cute, or rather, he’d never had anyone to act cute for. Often, when he used a sweet tone with Pei Siyue, it was unconscious—he didn’t realize he was being cute.
“I don’t know how.”
This time, Pei Siyue didn’t explain. He simply said, “Figure it out yourself.”
Ruan Shuyang puffed out his cheeks.
After he stopped crying, Pei Siyue wiped away his tears and applied eye drops again.
While taking him to breakfast after the eye drops, he remembered something and asked Pei Siyue curiously, “Brother, did you cry when you were my age?”
Pei Siyue shook his head.
Ruan Shuyang felt a pang of sadness. “Am I useless? Weak? I’m an adult now, yet I still cry in front of you all the time.”
Pei Siyue replied, “You’re still young. It’s perfectly normal to cry.”
“But you didn’t cry at my age.”
His expression turned despondent, the sparkle fading from his large eyes.
Pei Siyue looked at Ruan Shuyang, his tone earnest.
“Children who still cry at your age are very fortunate.”
Because someone cherishes them.
“And only children who cry get candy.”
Capriciousness is every happy child’s right.
“It’s okay for you to cry.”
Ruan Shuyang listened, half-understanding. He didn’t grasp it fully, but he knew Pei Siyue was telling him not to feel weak—he cried because he was happy.
It seemed to make sense. He never cried at the Ruan household—crying only made him look more pitiful and served no purpose.
But in front of Pei Siyue, he would cry, because Pei Siyue would hold him and comfort him.
Thinking about it this way, he felt a little sly.
Being held and comforted by Pei Siyue truly felt blissful.