Chapter 11#
Let Me Mark It#
Outside the courtyard, the autumn wind blew urgent through the evening, and torrential rain poured down without cease. Stepping into the courtyard, rain battered the plantain leaves, and a pool of red-and-white koi were startled into small leaps by the ripples.
The sound of the door opening drowned out the koi’s tail-flicking splashes. Crossing the fine green brick and stepping onto the thick carpet, the warmth of the interior rushed to meet him.
Rong Yu walked quickly to the guest bedroom in two strides, set the person down on the sofa, and touched Zhen Ye’s forehead—it was already scorching with fever.
He had the housekeeper fetch fever-reducing medicine and fed it to Zhen Ye. But more urgent was the damp pair of pants; they needed to be changed as soon as possible.
Rong Yu held Zhen Ye’s jaw, carefully feeding him water, then turned to Du Rui and instructed:
“Find someone meticulous to help—an omega, preferably someone older.”
The housekeeping auntie rushed over without delay. Upon hearing that she was to help Zhen Ye bathe, she gently closed the door behind her.
Rong Yu turned and walked into the master bedroom.
With one hand he yanked off his damp black sweater, revealing his powerfully built upper body, while with the other he took the clean shirt Du Rui handed him and loosely fastened a few buttons.
Before he’d even reached his chest, the auntie came hurrying over with her sleeves rolled up to report anxiously, “Sir, the young gentleman inside won’t let me wash him.”
Rong Yu’s first reaction was that Zhen Ye had woken up. “What’s wrong—is he awake?”
“No, it’s not that. He seems unused to being touched by strangers.”
The auntie suggested cautiously, “Sir, perhaps you could stay and watch nearby. It’ll put the omega more at ease.”
Generally speaking, omegas had the most sensitive senses among the three secondary genders.
Although the auntie didn’t know this omega’s pheromone level, her life experience told her that when someone was sick from being caught in the rain, having a familiar scent nearby would definitely make the omega feel more comfortable.
Rong Yu’s brow furrowed slightly. He recalled the near-miss in the car just moments ago—that hair-trigger moment—and wanted to refuse on rational grounds.
But then his thoughts turned, connecting that phrase “unused to being touched by strangers” to the scene outside the hospital building, when Zhen Ye had been grabbed by the wrist and suddenly gone into a stress reaction.
A faint ache passed through his heart.
Rong Yu replied evenly:
“Alright, I’ll be there in a moment.”
Then he added a careful instruction: “Also, when you change his clothes, be careful not to touch his hands.”
“Very good, sir.” The auntie sighed in relief, as if pardoned, and left.
Behind her back, Rong Yu instructed the housekeeper: “Get a new inhibitor bracelet.”
Du Rui: “Very well, master.”
Before long, Rong Yu changed into fresh clothes and came over, still wearing the exoskeletal device on his body.
His pheromone scent had faded considerably compared to when he’d first entered. He walked to the open bathroom door but did not step inside. Instead, he sat down on the chair Du Rui had brought, and simply kept watch at the doorway, back turned to the bathtub, eyes lowered.
Within a limited distance, letting Zhen Ye see him, without ever trespassing on an omega’s physical privacy.
Perhaps it was this broad, steady back that invisibly lent a sense of shelter.
Zhen Ye, curled in a corner of the bathtub, no longer struggled violently.
He stripped off all the damp, mud-stained clothing and sank into the hot water that had been adjusted to just the right temperature. Heat rose in steam from the gradually warming surface, blurring his already hazy vision.
Zhen Ye pressed his burning forehead against the slightly cool tile wall, still feeling as though a wall of unreality separated him from the world.
The stranger before him manipulated his limbs, her face magnified hugely in the steam, her features even contorting into something like a monster from another world.
But he glanced to the side—just one glance—and saw that familiar figure keeping watch, refusing to leave.
His subconscious told him, then, that this scene was safe, that there was no need to flee in frantic panic.
It was strange.
This conditioned safety reflex was deeply rooted in his subconscious.
Yet Zhen Ye had no memory at all of when it had been planted.
When the bath was finished, he was dressed in pajamas by the woman, and only then did the person rise, stepping through the scattered water on the floor to come over and pick him up.
This time it wasn’t a cradle carry. An arm was braced beneath Zhen Ye’s hips, lifting him vertically with one hand.
The man’s arm contained hidden strength, but with a missing lower leg, the exoskeletal device’s fit could never truly match a natural leg.
As Zhen Ye toppled toward him with the momentum, he bore the weight, but still took half a step back. Only after steadying his center of gravity did he carry the person out of the bathroom and set him on the bed.
The auntie followed out, blow dryer in hand to dry Zhen Ye’s hair.
But Rong Yu took it from her. “That’s enough. Thank you for your help earlier—I’ll handle the rest.”
The auntie smiled knowingly. It was the first time she’d seen Master Rong like this. His expression was casual and indifferent, yet his movements revealed a faint impatience.
She didn’t know what kind of omega this was, that even the all-powerful Master Rong would care this much.
Now the room was quiet, the stranger’s scent gone, leaving only the faint, drifting fragrance of wood. Zhen Ye closed his eyes and let the man fuss over him, unusually docile and peaceful.
Fingers that were longer and more slender than his mother’s or grandmother’s ran through his hair, massaging Zhen Ye’s scalp. It felt extraordinarily pleasant, and a restless impulse began stirring in his heart again.
His hands itched to move too.
A hand pinned his wandering fingers down, and a voice asked by his ear, “Where did you learn this trick? Who taught you, hm?”
Then came a laugh, tinged with helplessness. “Little pervert rabbit.”
Who taught him?
Self-taught, of course.
Zhen Ye had an addiction. After finishing once at night, he’d often wake up the next morning still burning with desire, and habitually feel around under the covers.
Once he’d fished out the wooden toy, he’d grab a wet wipe with his eyes closed, clean it, and then insert it into himself.
This routine was second nature to Zhen Ye by now.
But this familiarity inevitably invited speculation.
Especially since he’d called out someone else’s name in the car just before: “Owen.”
Rong Yu connected the two, and it was hard not to form a conjecture—Zhen Ye’s relationship with this person called Owen was surely no ordinary one.
Intimate enough, perhaps, to cross all boundaries, to touch each other’s sensitive areas without asking, as a matter of course.
And yet.
Rong Yu lowered his gaze, passing over Zhen Ye’s unfocused eyes.
Even with a high fever, one wouldn’t remain this dazed and vacant for so long.
—Dissociation.
This wasn’t simply hypothermia or a high fever.
It was severe psychological dissociation.
It was what happened when a person suffered psychological abuse, sank into pain, and could find no way to relieve it, forcibly detaching their own consciousness to protect their state of mind.
This wasn’t caused in a day or two, but by prolonged harm, neglect, and emotional indifference over a long period.
If that Owen is your alpha, he should be taking care of you, supporting you, comforting and encouraging you.
Not abandoning you to marry a low-grade elderly male, causing you to suffer and stumble, nearly falling off that cliff.
Rong Yu leaned down, slowly pouring the words into Zhen Ye’s ear: “This Owen you chose—he’s no good.”
He paused, his brow bearing an aloof, detached cast, as if he’d assumed the authority of judgment in place of Zhen Ye’s deceased mother:
“Once you’re better, I’ll choose a good one for you myself.”
He murmured to himself, his palm stroking down Zhen Ye’s thin, lean spine, drawing a fine tremor from the omega.
“I’ll choose one worthy of you.”
Zhen Ye made no response, only feeling that the man’s touch made his tailbone burn with heat, impossible to escape. The corners of his eyes flushed red, and like a startled rabbit, he squirmed left and right before finally hiding in the crook of the man’s arm.
Rong Yu’s buttons weren’t all fastened, his half-open chest right there.
Zhen Ye half-opened his innocent eyes, utterly muddled.
Only surface-level, direct sensation remained.
Keywords swelled continuously in his mind:
Big.
Double doors.
Sculpted physique.
He couldn’t help rubbing against the man with the gland under his chin, grinding his teeth, and then, in his delirious state, following the tradition of rabbits and his maternal family line, he leaned in and bit down hard.
Like it… let the rabbit mark it!
·
When Zhen Ye woke up, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling and suspected he was dreaming, so he closed his eyes again.
But the weightless, warm feeling of the down comforter over him was too real. Zhen Ye turned onto his side, still felt something was wrong, and snapped his eyes open, sitting up abruptly.
Lower back sore.
Back aching.
He licked his teeth and tasted a strange grass-like flavor in his mouth, as if he’d chewed on wood.
…What exactly had he done last night?
Full of questions, Zhen Ye prepared to get out of bed and investigate.
The moment he lifted the corner of the blanket—unless his eyes were playing tricks on him—a thin, slick green thread spiraled out of his sleeve and bounced onto the floor.
It vanished into the dark green carpet, gone in the blink of an eye.
“…What was that?”
Zhen Ye instinctively raised his wrist. He couldn’t see anything unusual, but his expression froze—he discovered that the torn, infected wound on his palm had vanished overnight.
That’s not right.
He wondered if he’d misremembered which hand it was.
He raised his left hand too. Also completely healed.
…How strange?
Was his mental disorder acting up again, another memory blackout—had he thought only one night had passed, when actually an entire week had gone by—
Zhen Ye started searching everywhere for his phone to check the time. He found it under the pillow, discovered it was dead, and continued looking for a charger.
He walked out of the bedroom and ran into a man in a suit pacing back and forth in the hall.
The man looked very displeased, questioning someone on the phone: “How is the artificial o-pheromone I ordered not here yet? Master Rong needs it urgently—”
Catching sight of Zhen Ye from the corner of his eye, he quickly lowered his voice, snapped a couple of words, and hung up. Du Rui put down his phone and, taking advantage of the bright daylight outside, couldn’t help sizing up the person Master Rong had been thinking about for so long.
The young omega stood there with a casual posture and casual dress—a white shirt loosely tucked into his trousers, a waist so slender it seemed a single pinch could break it. And that face, truly beautiful in countenance. Though his complexion was slightly lacking in vitality, among the wealthy-family omegas Du Rui had seen accompanying Master Rong, he would absolutely rank as top-tier stunning.
Du Rui withdrew his gaze and smiled at Zhen Ye: “Young Master Zhen is awake. Would you like breakfast, or perhaps lunch too, combined?”
Zhen Ye’s expression was blank. He shook his black-screened phone. “Excuse me, do you have a charger?”
“One moment, please.” Du Rui called over Auntie Xu from last night to find Zhen Ye what he needed. He himself took a couple of steps outside, heading to the entrance to receive the hospital courier delivering activated o-pheromone.
“Wait, one moment, please,” Zhen Ye said carefully, choosing his words. “You know my surname is Zhen. Do you also know how I came to be here?”
Du Rui paused mid-step. He thought for a moment, then described to Zhen Ye what had happened last night. Roughly: the estate owner had been passing by, saw he was about to have an accident, and rescued him as a matter of convenience.
Of course, the more intimate details and the subsequent mess—Du Rui didn’t dare mention those.
Zhen Ye found it quite reasonable and asked naturally, “Is the benefactor who saved me around? I’d like to thank him in person.”
Du Rui: “…”
Du Rui’s face showed difficulty: “He’s probably not available right now.”
Zhen Ye: “No problem, I can wait a while.”
Du Rui closed his eyes: “He was marked by you last night and is currently… losing his mind.” That was the most euphemistic adjective he could manage.
Zhen Ye: “Oh, so I marked h—”
“…”
What?
Marked?
I marked.
…an alpha?!?!
Zhen Ye’s expression went blank. Inside him, shockwaves crashed like a tsunami, countless “holy shits” scrolling past like barrage comments.
Then he thought back to his own past behavior. Finally, he squeezed out a guilty, tentative question:
“Um, I didn’t… rape him, did I?”