Chapter 28#
Rolling Hot#
Zhen Ye’s behavior was somewhat over the line.
If he were dealing with a normal alpha, the teasing and faint mockery in his tone would provoke them into a furious reaction, bursting with pheromone pressure.
But the man before him didn’t seem offended.
Zhen Ye observed him and found that although Rong Yu’s expression remained unchanged, beneath that gentle and solemn exterior, there was a hidden trace of deep-playful amusement. As if what stood before him was not an omega trying to pressure him, but an amusing little trinket, worth holding in his palm and toying with.
Perhaps it was his imagination. Zhen Ye froze slightly, noticing that deep within his pitch-black pupils, a thick, un-stirrable aggressiveness and desire seeped out.
But it was only for a moment.
When Zhen Ye blinked again, the man had already lowered his eyes. Under the cold white lights of the hospital corridor, his handsome features, nearly sculpted like a 3D model, resembled a mannequin that had sat eternally in a shop window, smiling quietly as it watched the mortal world.
Very unreal.
Zhen Ye was about to ponder where this sense of unreality came from when he heard the man say leisurely:
“You don’t like fingers? Then next time you beg me for help, I won’t use my fingers.”
Zhen Ye instinctively wanted to ask, if not fingers, then what? But after realizing, his cheeks flushed—so this guy wasn’t all that innocent after all.
Zhen Ye took a deep breath and emphasized, “That’s not the point. The point is, if you truly don’t want anything in return, why did you sign that contract?”
He could simply void the contract entirely.
“You think I don’t want anything in return?”
Rong Yu seemed a bit helpless, as if lamenting his naivety. He pulled Zhen Ye’s hand over, slowly caressing it, rubbing along each finger bone of the omega’s hand, until Zhen Ye’s breath grew ragged. Watching his expression, his dark pupils deepening, he smiled:
“Zhen Ye, the fourteen clauses are certainly important, but what I want goes far beyond that. I want you to fully accept me, and this process may be difficult and long, but for you, I possess patience.”
Possessing the body was the most superficial item.
The little rabbit he’d barely gotten back after losing it had to be slowly dismantled, savored step by step.
Zhen Ye tried to decipher the meaning behind his words. “Fully accept him”—it sounded like it carried deeper implications.
His gaze drifted downward. A light brown cashmere blanket was draped over the man’s legs—coincidentally, its color was ninety percent similar to Zhen Ye’s hair.
A strange feeling flashed through Zhen Ye’s mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. He could only tentatively assume that Mr. Rong, having a physical disability and feeling inferior, hoped he could fully accept him.
But this inference didn’t quite hold up.
Because based on Zhen Ye’s observations, the alpha carried himself with composure and ease, showing none of the fleeting despondency that ordinary disabled individuals might reveal.
This man acted as though his disability was not something that troubled him or diminished his dignity.
Rather, it seemed like.
He had anticipated this all along.
He was in control of it.
·
After seeing the doctor, Zhen Ye didn’t go straight home. Since they were already there, Rong Yu took the opportunity to visit his primary physician, and Zhen Ye waited downstairs.
Du Rui was also waiting downstairs. Noticing Zhen Ye casting a glance his way, he smiled and proactively explained, “Mr. Rong never likes anyone accompanying him when he sees the doctor.”
Zhen Ye nodded, indicating he understood.
His impression of Du Rui was that he was a steady, reliable butler—a beta, professional, and efficient. Most importantly, Du Rui’s attitude was very even-keeled; he didn’t look at Zhen Ye with any particular judgment because he was kept by Mr. Rong.
Whether Rong Yu had given instructions, or Du Rui was simply like this by nature, it was rare and commendable either way.
Zhen Ye wasn’t naive. He wasn’t a greenhouse flower who thought that once he arrived at Mr. Rong’s house, he could completely enjoy a life of luxury.
For him, this was another form of living under someone else’s roof. Although Rong Yu currently indulged him immensely, there was no guarantee that this man wouldn’t suddenly “wake up” one day.
Zhen Ye felt he should maintain some self-awareness as a golden-threaded rabbit. If nothing else, at least learn a bit about Rong Yu’s preferences, to keep the man satisfied and content.
That way, he could lower Rong Yu’s guard, and maybe one day trick him into bed for an “all-you-can-eat buffet.”
So Zhen Ye probed Du Rui with a couple of questions: “Butler Du, does Mr. Rong have any preferences? Or is there anything I can do to make him happier?”
Du Rui’s reply was watertight: “I believe that Master’s greatest happiness at present is having Young Master Zhen’s close and constant company.”
He habitually deflected, but Zhen Ye wouldn’t have it, and asked directly: “Then do I need to sleep with him?”
Du Rui: “…”
Afraid he might misunderstand, Zhen Ye clarified, “Not that kind. Pure sleeping. Platonic.”
Du Rui seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, caught off guard by the occasional bluntness this Young Master Zhen displayed. “You can consult Master on that. However, to this day, no one has managed to achieve ‘sleeping with him.’ Master requires long periods of deep sleep daily to regulate his body, so under normal circumstances, he needs to take sleeping pills.”
“Young Master Zhen might try accompanying Master to take his medication before 11 PM.”
11 PM.
Zhen Ye thought of last night’s nightmare. He felt that this fixed time held some special significance.
But he didn’t dwell on it. He simply noted Du Rui’s suggestion, then continued, “Are there any other things I should pay attention to?”
Seeing Du Rui’s slightly raised brow, Zhen Ye added, “For example, does he have any trauma triggers? Would he dislike words related to ’legs’?”
Du Rui cast him a surprised look.
The young man stood there, spine straight, features delicate yet carrying a hint of uncommon stubborn pride. Had this kind of omega been raised in a wealthy household, they would hold their head high with a cold aloofness, indifferent to worldly matters.
But Zhen Ye was different. He had been tempered by the mortal world. He had his stubbornness, and a surprising attention to detail that others wouldn’t expect. Such delicate thoughtfulness, this empathetic, perspective-taking consideration—that it hadn’t been worn away and numbed by life—was enough to show how resiliently kind his fundamental character was.
Du Rui’s eyes flickered. He seemed to understand the reason Mr. Rong was so fixated on Zhen Ye.
In Mr. Rong’s “condition,” perhaps only Zhen Ye would accept him.
So Du Rui thought for a moment, then revealed: “Master isn’t very bothered by his legs. If there’s anything to pay attention to, it would be the tea you serve him—don’t make it too hot.”
“Because he has a dulled sensitivity to pain.”
Zhen Ye: “Pain?”
“Yes. More accurately, he has an insensitive sense of both pain and touch.” Du Rui smiled. “So when Young Master Zhen bites him, he might seem rather indifferent, because he can’t feel it.”
Zhen Ye parted his lips, and spoke without thinking: “So does that mean you have to bite really deep for him to feel it?”
Du Rui recalled last night—when Mr. Rong knocked on his door with his cane and called him out to buy suppressants, tightly clutching that omega’s forearm with its bulging veins. He said meaningfully:
“That, I wouldn’t know. You could try it next time.”
With that, Du Rui received a phone call and went upstairs to fetch Rong Yu.
Zhen Ye remained where he was, still pondering the information he’d just obtained.
Insensitive to sensation…
Zhen Ye loved bionic androids. Rong Yu’s characteristics made it hard not to remind him of one of the bionic Owen’s function settings—lowering the sensitivity value.
“Sensitivity value” was actually a veiled euphemism.
Its true functional design was to reduce the sensitivity of the sensors. The resulting effect was a prolonged friction time, with the built-in fluid in the “external eggplant-shaped insert” delaying release.
This way, it could give an omega in heat the longest-lasting experience.
Could Mr. Rong’s “insert” perhaps have such a function as well?
For no discernible reason, Zhen Ye felt a strong urge to investigate.
·
“Does this hurt?”
“No.”
“Lift your leg. What about tapping the knee like this?”
“Barely.”
“What about here on the calf? If I pinch it, can you feel anything?”
“…Hiss.”
Shen Yubai finally stood up, an unconcealed joy flashing in his eyes. “Uncle Rong, this is a good sign. You have sensation, which means the lignification of your limbs has started reversing for the better.”
“Is that so? That’s good news.” Rong Yu’s expression was calm, as if it had nothing to do with him.
“Look at your right calf—the skin was withered before, but now it’s smoothing out. Especially this patch here; it feels silky when touched.”
Shen Yubai found it incredible as he looked. “Previously, we tried so many medications with no effect. Now it’s suddenly improving. Has Uncle Rong been using some other treatment?”
Other treatment.
Rong Yu raised his gaze absently, his line of sight landing at the edge of the window. Outside, evening was approaching, and the sunset clouds dyed the layers of crimson clouds. A scene surfaced before his eyes: a tall, handsome young man sitting on his lap, his waistline sleek and supple, restlessly grinding against his thigh, soaking his trousers, and letting out a low, hot gasp, burying a slender, fragile neck—flushed and scalding—into his shoulder.
He had changed his suppressants twice.
Once while he was awake, once while asleep—both times, equally scorching hot within.
The man’s eyes lowered slightly, his hand with clearly defined veins resting on his knee, his fingertip absently rubbing against it.
Then, he spread his fingers, grabbed a handful of the light brown blanket, and slowly crushed it in his palm, rolling it between his fingers. As if gripping the fur of some animal.
His voice was low and soft, carrying no excess emotion, merely saying: “There is indeed some ‘assistive’ measure.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Shen Yubai naturally didn’t dare press for details. He respectfully saw the man off, adding one final suggestion:
“Your ‘assistive’ measure is very effective. Next, you could increase the frequency of using the exoskeleton, letting your right leg bear more weight and walk more—it will aid in your recovery.”
“Very well.”
Downstairs in the lobby, Zhen Ye had been leaning against the wall. Seeing the elevator doors open in the distance, he hurried over. He went around to the back and asked Du Rui, “Can I push for a bit?”
Du Rui let go, and Zhen Ye took his place, steadily pushing Rong Yu away.
But whether it was his sweaty palms or something else, Zhen Ye felt the skin touching the wooden handles growing slightly damp. Suddenly, a tickle blossomed in his palm—as if something soft had quickly licked him.
Zhen Ye instinctively pulled his hand back.
Rong Yu’s wheelchair glided silently past the checkpoint at the entrance.
Just as they crossed the threshold, suddenly, alarms blared from every direction, each sound more intense and piercing than the last:
“Doo—doo—doo!”
“Attention! Maximum-level danger, maximum-level danger—lockdown—immediate lockdown!”
Before the words even faded, a dull rumble came from overhead, and a heavy metal door crashed down, sealing them tightly inside.
Nearby passersby stood frozen in terror, faces full of panic. Then, some screamed and backed away, others stumbled and ran off.
This earsplitting alarm instantly awakened the fear that had once gripped everyone—
The day the “Tyrant,” the monster king of the quarantine zone, invaded the city.