Chapter 23#
Lower Abdomen Aching and Hot#
Lin Heye and Rong Yu had a very subtle relationship.
More like father and son than ordinary uncle and nephew.
Lin Heye should have been surnamed Rong too—his mother was Rong Yu’s biological younger sister. In any prominent family, omegas were always sent out for political marriages.
But after Rong Yu seized power, he directly cancelled the arranged marriage and let his sister choose a beta she liked to marry on her own.
Unexpectedly, his sister and brother-in-law encountered danger in the quarantine zone and died, leaving behind only a child. The Rong family elders had originally advocated for Lin Heye to be adopted under Rong Yu’s name and raised as an heir. But the Lin family’s elders never agreed.
Even so, Rong Yu still looked after Lin Heye extensively, handling every problem in his growth.
So compared to Lin Heye’s deceased biological father, Rong Yu was more like his actual father in practice.
But as he grew older, his position became increasingly awkward. He held a senior position within the Rong Corporation, yet whenever core meetings came up, he had no qualification to participate.
Lin Heye gradually felt that Rong Yu was deliberately suppressing him.
A thriving big tree not until the day it dies will let the small trees beside it grow. The struggle for resources between an old Alpha and a young alpha in a wealthy family was destined to reach a boiling point.
Lin Heye hated Rong Yu, wishing every moment for him to be crippled by misfortune.
But every time Rong Yu was hospitalized, unconscious, or mysteriously disappeared, he would always return safely to the Rong Corporation and hold onto power.
This alpha was like a pitch-black ghost circling the entire family, putting everyone on edge.
Until he was completely dead, everyone had to be cautious and obedient before him. Otherwise, Rong Yu would revoke their trusts, kick them out penniless, and let them fend for themselves.
Just as he had cruelly done to the many Rong family elders years ago.
Lin Heye knew very well that Rong Yu was a Bodhisattva on the surface, a demon king in the shadows. But he still kept a smiling face and had an ordinary family meal with his uncle, calling it “cherishing family bonds.”
When he returned to his penthouse apartment in the city center, his suppressed emotions could no longer be held back. Lin Heye smashed up the place, then called over an omega model and fucked her senseless.
With bloodshot eyes, he pulled his fangs, streaked with blood, from the omega’s fragile flesh. Only then did he put on a bathrobe and walk to the living room to meet the vice president’s secretary who had been waiting for half an hour.
Secretary Qin kept his eyes straight ahead, holding out a tablet. “President Lin, these are the applicant materials for Oyii this time. Please review and screen them.”
Lin Heye was somewhat annoyed. “I’m not HR. Why are you bringing this to me?”
“You mentioned at a previous meeting that you wanted to personally oversee hiring this time.”
Fuck, he forgot. Lin Heye cursed under his breath and had no choice but to take the tablet.
“Oyii O-use Bionic” was a subsidiary under Rongsheng Group. Although it was growing quickly, compared to the parent company’s business, it was only meat on a mosquito leg.
This business had been handed to Lin Heye last year, but he truly had no interest in manufacturing omega sex toys. In his view, omegas should eat an Alpha’s real thing—what was the point of buying a broken doll? Only ugly sluts who couldn’t find an Alpha would buy one, right?
He flipped through a résumé disinterestedly.
Then suddenly stopped.
Lin Heye narrowed his eyes, spreading two fingers to enlarge the photo in the upper right corner.
The ID photo was stiff and formal, but it couldn’t hide the striking features and handsome bearing—the kind of face that instantly caught the eye in a crowd.
It immediately reminded Lin Heye of that delivery guy’s slender waist from the bar that night—the one he’d wanted to touch but hadn’t.
He licked his lips, his expression unreadable, and kept the résumé.
“This round of interviews, I’ll attend personally.”
·
On the weekend, Zhen Ye attended the Maoda recruitment fair. Since it was government-hosted and open to people from other schools, the scene was packed.
Zhen Ye submitted résumés to several companies developing bionic robots. Most HR reps showed interest when they saw his major—“Human-Machine Emotional Interaction”—but upon further inquiry, they realized it wasn’t the computer science they’d imagined, and regretfully rejected him.
Zhen Ye placed his final hope on Oyii Bionic.
Perhaps because Cheng Zhiran’s boyfriend had put in a word, his résumé was smoothly accepted during the first round, and he even received notification to come for a second interview at the company on Monday.
Zhen Ye cherished this opportunity greatly.
Omegas were at a long-term disadvantage in the job market. Because of heat cycles, they had to take leave every three months.
To companies, this was no different from increasing labor costs. So they preferred to hire betas, and alphas who only had one rut period per year.
Zhen Ye’s disadvantage was even greater.
Due to his rabbit lineage, he went into heat every month, with each episode lasting three days. For major companies that required overtime and no weekends off, an employee like Zhen Ye was someone they would absolutely never hire.
But everything had to be fought for—one couldn’t just say discrimination existed and then suffer in silence.
Zhen Ye wanted to fight for it.
If he succeeded, he wouldn’t have to juggle three jobs and rush around like crazy. Besides, this field was where his interest lay—he wanted to put his knowledge into practice.
He prepared every possible interview question until it flowed smoothly. Before shutting down his computer, Zhen Ye pursed his lips and opened a page he hadn’t logged into in a long time.
He entered a password once intimately familiar, now somewhat rusty.
Logging in.
The interface jumped:
【Messages 999+】
Zhen Ye’s heart pounded—a nervousness like approaching home with timid steps. He casually clicked open a few unread messages:
[Is the bionic personality interaction data pack still being updated? I’ve waited so long my flowers have withered. What happened to the promised 3.0 version?]
[Urgent urgent urgent, can anyone get in touch with Big Shot Xiancao? Suddenly disappeared without a word, really worried]
[Stop waiting, everyone. The studio has already disbanded]
[What? Why? Where’s our Warden boss? Hubby, come out and say something (sobbing)]
[Announcement: Due to insufficient funding, this studio was temporarily disbanded on November 26, 2035. Return date undetermined—Xiancao]
The screen reflected his clear eyes. Zhen Ye stared for a while, then finally closed his laptop.
Money, funds.
Every path forward in this world always came back to that one simple word.
So, stay grounded.
Get money first.
……
Monday was foggy, cold air pressing south as winter approached. Yellowed leaves scattered everywhere, save for the CBD where an evergreen forest of steel and glass stood.
Zhen Ye walked into the “Oyii” company building and waited for interviews with a crowd of other job seekers.
The exhibition hall was at the end of the corridor. Zhen Ye glanced over from a distance and his eyes lit up—there was the bionic humanoid Owen on display.
Meanwhile, the VIP elevator doors opened.
Employees on both sides bowed in unison. “President Lin.”
Lin Heye rarely came to the subsidiary. Today he’d come for the hunt. His mood had been fine, until Qin Cai leaned in and whispered, “Chairman Rong is here—he’s in your office.” Lin Heye’s face turned green, a dark cloud pressing down over him.
He was about to get scolded the moment he walked in.
“This quarter’s sales figures are quite ugly.” Rong Yu’s face was radiant and refined, elegant and noble, but he rolled the report into a tube and tapped it lightly on the desk.
The sound made people flinch.
Lin Heye gritted his teeth inwardly, keeping a smile on his face as he explained: “You’re right, Uncle. The previous team didn’t position the market well. I’ve already ordered them to recruit new people.”
Educated like an elementary school student for quite a while, Lin Heye kept nodding in agreement and barely managed to see off that great Buddha.
Qin Cai offered timely comfort: “Chairman Rong coming personally shows he still values you quite a bit.”
Lin Heye was subtly smug. “I’m his own nephew, his only heir. If he doesn’t count on me, who else can he count on?”
Qin Cai said offhandedly, “There’s also the future Mrs. Rong.”
“Mrs. Rong?” Lin Heye snorted with laughter, as if he’d heard a joke. He cast a meaningful glance at an oil painting on the wall depicting lustful decadence. “Well, times are better now. In the old days, someone like my uncle would have been locked in a basement for life—”
He turned to Qin Cai and silently mouthed:
Mon-ster.
He smiled roguishly. “Tell me, how could anyone possibly like a gloomy cripple like him?”
As Lin Heye spoke, he walked out, then suddenly something caught his eye—a figure in the exhibition hall. The person had their back to him, a slender, delicate neck that looked fragile, easy to break. But when he drew closer and saw the side profile, the straight nose showed a hint of defiance.
He still remembered the name on the résumé.
Zhen Ye.
Having found the purpose of his visit, Lin Heye’s thoughts ran wild. He ran his tongue along his teeth, switched off the function on his suppressant ring, and released a thick wave of pheromones.
Zhen Ye had been squeezing the humanoid Owen’s chest. Suddenly the air around him grew viscous—a scent of leather and tobacco, almost physical, closed in around him.
He whipped around.
The towering Alpha was already right there, cornering him between the display stand and the wall.
“What a coincidence—the juice tea delivery guy.”
Lin Heye curled his lips, glancing at Owen sitting nearby, and drawled, “I read your résumé. So you like bionic dolls?”
Zhen Ye’s expression was blank. “Are you the interviewer?”
“Me?” Lin Heye chuckled lowly, casually tapping the nameplate on his chest. “I’m way more important than an interviewer.”
Zhen Ye glanced at it. “Oh. President.”
A high-level wage slave working for a board full of shareholders.
“So?” Lin Heye braced one arm against the wall, using his massive frame to cage the omega in, licking his incisor. “How about coming with me? I saw your living conditions are pretty rough. Come with me, and you won’t have to deliver shit in wind and rain anymore—”
He waited to see the other man panic, or squirm, or waver.
But the silent omega suddenly raised his eyes.
Those amber eyes held no fear—only a cold, mocking disdain. Zhen Ye pulled at the corner of his mouth and clearly spat out two words:
“Slut.”
Lin Heye: “…?”
Stunned, he wondered if he’d misheard: “Wait, who are you calling?”
“Talking about you.”
Zhen Ye looked him up and down with a sidelong glance. “Blasting your pheromones everywhere, wiggling your ass and strutting around—isn’t that just to seduce people?”
In his half year working at the hotpot restaurant, Zhen Ye had seen all kinds of harassment. With people like this, reasoning or arguing back was useless. The best approach was to give them a taste of their own medicine.
An alpha like Lin Heye—when had he ever been humiliated like a shameless whore? His brain short-circuited, actually choking on Zhen Ye’s words. His face flushed red and white in turn, until he finally squeezed out:
“Who said I wiggled my ass!?”
Zhen Ye jutted his chin toward the security camera in the exhibition hall. “There’s footage right there. You can pull it up and see if I’m telling the truth.”
“—You!” Lin Heye’s blood rushed to his head. “You dare insult the company president?! I guess you don’t want this interview anymore!”
Zhen Ye’s back pressed against the cold wall. Though he had nowhere to retreat, his presence didn’t yield an inch. A faint, contemptuous curve touched his lips:
“The only thing you can threaten me with is a job I haven’t even gotten yet. Seems like this ‘President’ of yours isn’t all that impressive after all.”
Lin Heye’s face flushed completely red, a foul rage clogging his chest until he nearly vomited blood. But this was the company, out in public—and more importantly, his uncle Rong Yu was still inspecting downstairs and could come back any moment.
He could only clench his back teeth, swallow the fury, and declare, “You just wait and see.”
Lin Heye left.
Zhen Ye stood still for a moment, then walked back to the interview waiting area. He lowered his head to sniff himself, brow furrowing, a flicker of disgust crossing his face.
The pheromones had rubbed off on him.
Like dog piss.
Zhen Ye was in the pre-heat stage—not only sensitive to scents, but easily affected by external pheromones. Now that sticky alpha pheromone clung to him like a shadow, brutally stirring up his already imbalanced sexual chemistry.
Gradually, his breathing quickened, and sweat broke out uncontrollably.
He sat as if on pins and needles, feeling a familiar aching heat rise from deep in his lower abdomen.
Damn it…
Why did it have to be now?
His heat seemed to have come early.
In a panic, Zhen Ye looked up. There were still three people ahead of him. If he went to deal with this now, he could still make it back in time.
He went downstairs and found an accessible restroom. Shutting the door, he reached down and touched—shit, the pants pressed against his thighs were already getting wet. Fluid had seeped through. He suppressed his breathing, trying not to pant too hard, and with trembling fingers yanked open his backpack, frantically searching for the embedded suppressants.
Found them.
He dumped the box of three sticks out, pulled his pants down, bent over, and operated with rough, hasty movements.
But the more urgent it was, the more his fingers refused to cooperate. Thinking he might miss the interview, he was so anxious his fingertips shook, unable to align the position properly. His inner thighs were slick and sticky, the cool shaft of the suppressant stick slipping again and again through his trembling palms.
“Crack.”
The first one snapped.
The second slipped through his fingers, rolled onto the floor, and got dirty.
Only the last one remained.
The last chance.
Zhen Ye stared at that lone suppressant stick, took a deep breath, and despairingly realized he couldn’t do it on his own. He yanked his pants up haphazardly, planning to find another omega for help, and threw the door open—
Only to crash, unprepared, into a pair of bottomless dark eyes.
The man in the wheelchair was calm in demeanor. Facing his abnormally flushed face, he called softly, “Little rabbit?”
His mind went blank for a second.
Restroom. Wheelchair. Alone.
A certain “crime procedure” that had been rehearsed countless times in Zhen Ye’s mind suddenly surfaced clearly, taking over his scrambled consciousness.
The next second.
He pounced forward, smoothly shoved the wheelchair into the small dark restroom stall, and locked the door. Then he swung his long leg over and sat down on the man.
Hot breath swept over Rong Yu’s neck, and the omega shoved something into his hand.
This bold rabbit, voice hoarse, pressed his burning, taut lower belly against the man’s hard, solid abs:
“…Help me.”