Pei Yuchen left early that morning.
It was the kind of departure that had become familiar in the past week—quiet, efficient, but lingering in its own way. He'd kissed Shen Qiqi on the temple before leaving, fingers brushing along his waist like a silent promise, his voice low and steady as he murmured, "I'll be back by six. Call if anything happens."
Qiqi had nodded, half-asleep, curled under the duvet with Yuchen's scent still clinging to the sheets. But by the time he finished breakfast, he found himself restless.
Maybe it was the newness of everything. Or maybe it was the memory of seeing Yuchen in his world—the real world—commanding rooms and silencing boardrooms, yet still turning to Qiqi with something warm in his eyes.
He wanted to do something. Be more than the beautiful little thing waiting in velvet halls.
So he texted the driver and asked to be taken to the mall.
The upscale district of Xinjing Mall was dazzling—sleek white marble floors, glass-paneled storefronts with designer logos, fragrant air from a rotating selection of floral diffusers. Qiqi wandered slowly, his cream knit sweater oversized and soft, paired with beige linen trousers and subtle gold jewelry. A small shoulder bag rested across his chest. It was casual, but elegant. Effortless.
Even here, in a sea of luxury, he stood out.
He visited a few boutiques—mostly browsing, though he picked out a delicate scarf that reminded him of the pattern on Pei Yuchen's tie. He bought it without thinking, then mentally scolded himself. You're turning into one of those spoiled Omegas already.
But he didn't really mind.
The staff were polite, deferential, bowing slightly when they noticed his scent still faintly tinged with a powerful Alpha's mark. Some looked curious, but no one asked questions.
It wasn't until he stepped out into the open plaza of the mall—a large indoor atrium with a decorative koi pond—that things took a turn.
There was a commotion.
A low, angry voice. A sharp sound of someone being jostled.
Qiqi turned his head—and his brows drew together.
Across the plaza, an Omega with sleek, shoulder-length black hair stood with his back against the glass railing, clearly uncomfortable as a tall Alpha leaned over him, leering.
"Come on, sweetheart," the Alpha was saying, his voice loud enough for nearby shoppers to glance and quickly look away. "No need to act so high and mighty. Just give me your number."
"I said no," the Omega snapped. His tone was sharp, but Qiqi could hear the tension—the tightness in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped the edge of his bag. "Back off."
The Alpha smirked. "What, waiting for your bonded Alpha to come save you? You unregistered brats always pretend to be above it."
That was enough.
Qiqi crossed the space in seconds, slipping through the small ring of hesitant onlookers. He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't have to.
"Excuse me," he said, standing between the two of them. "He told you no."
The Alpha turned, clearly ready to scoff—until he caught Qiqi's scent.
And froze.
Even faint, Pei Yuchen's mark on Qiqi was unmistakable. It hit the Alpha like a wall of heat, dominance, and warning. His pupils contracted. His nostrils flared.
"You—you're registered," he stammered.
"Yes," Qiqi said sweetly, "and believe me, he won't be happy to hear how you treat Omegas in public."
The Alpha muttered something under his breath and turned sharply, striding away with quick, jerky steps. No one stopped him. But no one dared look at Qiqi, either.
The Omega behind him let out a long breath. "Holy crap."
Qiqi turned around. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, just—thank you. I had it under control, but…"
Qiqi smiled gently. "Even the strongest wolves need backup sometimes."
The Omega laughed, visibly relaxing now that the pressure had lifted. He had striking eyes, slanted and a little mischievous, paired with a soft mouth and expressive brows. "I'm An Yutong," he said, brushing his hair back with a sheepish grin. "Usually, I don't get saved by mysterious, well-dressed strangers at the mall. It's very drama serial of you."
Qiqi grinned. "Shen Qiqi. And I'm usually not that confrontational, but that guy had a face that made me want to call pest control."
An Yutong barked a laugh. "God. You're sharp."
There was a pause. Then Yutong tilted his head.
"Buy you a coffee? I think I owe you a drink. Or five."
Qiqi blinked. "You don't owe me anything—"
"Even better reason," Yutong said. "C'mon. There's a place on the third floor with horrible overpriced matcha and decent cookies."
Qiqi hesitated for half a second—then smiled.
"Lead the way."
The café was modern and sunlit, with soft couches and a full window view of the skyline. They ordered drinks—Yutong's matcha and Qiqi's usual iced honey latte—and found a corner table by the window.
Yutong sipped from his straw, watching him with open curiosity. "So… Shen Qiqi. That Alpha scent on you… it's strong."
Qiqi gave a small smile. "It's Pei Yuchen."
Yutong choked on his drink.
"THE Pei Yuchen?"
"Uh-huh."
"You mean, tower-of-steel, ice-king, CEO-of-the-century, gives-interviewers-nightmares Pei Yuchen?"
Qiqi's smile widened just slightly. "That's the one."
"Holy crap. That explains… so much." He leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he once fired someone just for using the wrong kind of tea leaves in a boardroom meeting?"
"I saw him fire someone for not reading the profit margin projections correctly," Qiqi replied.
Yutong's jaw dropped. Then they both burst into laughter.
It felt good.
Not the practiced, polite kind of joy Qiqi had to wear in public. Not the quiet softness he had with Yuchen.
But this—light, genuine banter—friendship. The start of something normal.
Yutong leaned his cheek on his palm. "You know, I was worried I wouldn't find anyone I could actually talk to in this city. Turns out I just had to nearly be assaulted in public."
Qiqi gave him a dry look. "Silver linings, I guess."
They lingered over coffee for nearly an hour. Talked about everything and nothing. Yutong worked in fashion merchandising, had just moved into the city six months ago, and had a biting sense of humor that made Qiqi snort into his drink more than once.
He didn't ask for details about Qiqi and Pei Yuchen. He just… treated him like a person. Like someone interesting. Not like a trophy.
By the time they left the café, the sky was tinting faintly gold, and Qiqi's phone buzzed with a message.
Pei Yuchen:
Leaving now. I'll be home in 20. Are you at the penthouse?
Qiqi smiled, typing back quickly.
Qiqi:
Out with a new friend. Heading home now.
He turned to Yutong. "Do you want to exchange contacts? I'd really like to see you again."
Yutong grinned, pulling out his phone. "I thought you'd never ask."
That night, curled up in bed beside Pei Yuchen—his head resting against his broad shoulder, fingers lightly tracing over the firm ridges of his abs in slow, lazy circles—Shen Qiqi felt the kind of quiet peace that only came in the deepest hours of the night. The penthouse was dark except for the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp, and the air was still, warm with the mingling of their scents.
Pei Yuchen let out a low, contented hum as he shifted closer, tucking Qiqi against him like something precious he couldn't bear to let go. His nose buried into the crook of Qiqi's neck, where his scent gland pulsed softly beneath skin. He breathed in—deep, long, like a man starved.
Qiqi felt the shiver ripple through his Alpha's chest.
Yuchen's voice came out low, barely above a whisper, roughened with something feral. "You smell stronger today."
Qiqi blinked, turning his head slightly. "Stronger?"
Yuchen's hand slid up from his hip to his waist, possessive in the most casual way. "More vivid. Brighter." He pressed his nose in again, inhaling like Qiqi's scent was the only thing keeping him tethered. "It's too addicting."
Qiqi laughed softly, embarrassed. "Stop sniffing me like a cologne ad."
"I can't help it," Yuchen muttered, lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below Qiqi's ear. "You don't know what you do to me."
The warm hush stretched out between them until Yuchen finally broke it, voice quieter but no less curious. "You mentioned earlier that you met someone." His hand stilled on Qiqi's waist, thumb resting lightly on bare skin. "Who's your new friend?"
Qiqi pulled back just enough to see Yuchen's face. His expression wasn't tense, exactly—just focused. Alert.
"His name's An Yutong," Qiqi said, smiling faintly at the memory. "I met him at the mall."
Yuchen raised an eyebrow. "At the mall?"
Qiqi nodded, brushing his fingers lightly along Yuchen's collarbone. "There was this Alpha—he was harassing him. Cornered him by the koi pond, wouldn't take no for an answer. I stepped in."
A beat of silence.
Yuchen's eyes darkened. "He touched you?"
"No," Qiqi said quickly, pressing a soothing palm to Yuchen's chest. "No, he didn't come near me. The moment he picked up your scent on me, he bolted. It was like slamming into a wall."
Yuchen's gaze didn't soften. If anything, his jaw flexed slightly, as though he were biting back the instinct to hunt the man down.
Qiqi leaned in, nose brushing Yuchen's cheek. "You don't have to be jealous. I wasn't the one being flirted with. I was the cavalry."
That made Yuchen exhale slowly. "Still. I don't like you being near anyone like that."
Qiqi softened. "I'm okay, really. Yutong's fine too. We got coffee afterward, just talked. He's smart. Funny. He reminds me of someone who's been through a lot, but doesn't let it turn him bitter."
Pei Yuchen was quiet for a long moment, just watching him.
"You like him."
"I do," Qiqi admitted. "As a friend. It's… nice. Having someone I can talk to who isn't afraid of me because I'm yours, or trying to get something out of me because of you."
Yuchen's hand tightened subtly around Qiqi's waist. "You can invite him over sometime. I want to meet him."
Qiqi blinked. "Really?"
"Trust me," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement. "He knows."
Yuchen tilted his head slightly, one brow arching in interest.
"I told him," Qiqi went on, laughing softly at the memory. "He asked who you were after you left your scent all over me just from hugging—and when I said your name…"
He paused, mimicking the stunned expression Yutong had made—eyes wide, jaw slightly slack.
"The second I said Pei Yuchen, his face went from curious to straight-up terrified. I think he thought I was messing with him at first. Said something like, 'You mean the ice tyrant? The one with the skyscraper named after him? That Pei Yuchen?'"
Pei Yuchen huffed a low, amused breath—almost a laugh, though the sound was more like a growl under his breath. His hand tightened just a little around Qiqi's waist, possessive without being rough.
"And what did you say?" he asked, his voice roughened with amusement and a hint of smugness.
Qiqi leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against Yuchen's collarbone before murmuring, "I said yeah. That's him. My Alpha"
Yuchen went still.
For half a second, everything in him coiled—heat spiking in his scent, eyes sharpening like he'd just been claimed back. He pulled Qiqi closer, pressing their bodies together with deliberate slowness, his voice dark and slow.
"Say that again."
Qiqi blinked. "What—?"
"That word," Yuchen murmured against his ear, breath hot. "Say it again."
Qiqi swallowed, lips parting. The word came softer this time, but no less certain. "My Alpha."
Yuchen made a low sound in his throat—a quiet, primal noise of satisfaction—and kissed him hard. One hand tangled into Qiqi's hair, the other gripping his waist like he was trying to memorize the feel of him.
It wasn't a sweet kiss.
It was slow—deliberate, like Yuchen was imprinting his desire one layer at a time. Deep—dizzying, like he meant to steal every breath Qiqi had and replace it with his own.
Possessive—unapologetically, breathtakingly so.
An unspoken promise burned onto skin and breath and bone.
When he finally pulled away, Qiqi gasped, barely aware of the silk sheets beneath him or the press of Yuchen's thigh between his legs. The only thing that existed in that moment was the fire licking at the edge of his skin—and the man above him who had sparked it.
Pei Yuchen didn't let him catch his breath.
Instead, he leaned down and trailed open-mouthed kisses along Qiqi's jawline, down the side of his throat, each press of lips softer but no less hungry. His hand cradled Qiqi's head, thumb stroking his cheek as he angled him just right.
Then his mouth found that spot—Qiqi's scent gland—and everything in Qiqi seized.
Yuchen's lips parted around it, warm breath exhaling across the sensitive skin. He didn't bite, didn't mark—not yet. He sucked, just lightly, drawing a whimper from Qiqi's throat.
His tongue flicked out, slow and reverent, and Qiqi felt the contact in every nerve ending from his neck to his toes.
"I wanna mark you," Yuchen murmured lowly, lips brushing the gland, voice soaked in hunger and something almost primal. "Right here."
He pulled back just enough to look down at Qiqi, his gaze dark—blazing with intensity. Like a wildfire barely restrained, glowing in his golden eyes. A man on the edge of restraint.
Qiqi could barely breathe.
His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, lips red and kiss-swollen, body practically glowing with heat. The air between them thrummed with tension—thick, heady, intimate.
He blinked up at Yuchen, eyes glassy with emotion and want, his cheeks flushed a delicate pink. He felt exposed, trembling—but safe. Wanted. Worshipped.
"I—" Qiqi's voice cracked softly, breath hitching. "Yuchen…"
Pei Yuchen's hand cupped the side of his face gently, thumb brushing along the corner of his mouth.
"I'll wait," he said softly, firmly, though his voice trembled faintly with restraint. "If you're not ready, I'll wait. No matter how badly I want to."
Qiqi's heart clenched.
Because that was Pei Yuchen.
Dominant. Dangerous. Deeply in control.
And yet with him—always gentle.
Qiqi lifted a hand and placed it over Yuchen's chest, right where his heartbeat pounded steadily beneath his skin. Their eyes locked.
"I'm not saying no," he whispered, voice barely audible, "but… I just—need time. I want it to be right."
Yuchen nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then down to the tip of his nose. "Then we wait," he murmured. "But know this…"
His mouth returned to the spot just above Qiqi's scent gland, and he nuzzled there, drawing in another deep breath.
"You already smell like mine."
It was a sunny afternoon, and the café Yutong had chosen was nestled between a cozy independent bookstore and a small flower shop, its terrace shaded by canvas awnings and trellises of blooming wisteria. The scent of roasted beans, lavender, and early summer warmth drifted through the air. Shen Qiqi stirred his iced lemon tea with a lazy rhythm, the straw tapping lightly against glass as if keeping time with his thoughts.
Across from him, An Yutong was all sleek edges and casual grace, sipping a flat white. His dark hair was swept into a low ponytail, a pair of oversized sunglasses perched dramatically on his head. Earlier, they'd spent a good hour in the mall laughing over designer loafers and arguing over the best shade of nude lipstick. But now, the laughter had softened into something quieter—intimate.
Yutong tilted his head, studying Qiqi with a knowing grin. "You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The 'I just got eaten alive by my Alpha's eyes' look." He smirked and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Let me guess. More kissing. Somewhere ridiculously expensive. Against the wall. Possibly shirtless."
Qiqi let out a groan and covered his face. "I hate you."
"No you don't." Yutong winked. "You love me. Now spill. You ghosted me for almost two days, which is either suspicious or adorable. Which is it?"
Qiqi peeked between his fingers, cheeks red. "…He said he wants to mark me."
Just like that, the humor drained from Yutong's expression. He didn't go still exactly, but the teasing curve of his mouth relaxed into something quieter, gentler. His sunglasses slid a little down his nose as he sat back, suddenly older than he looked.
"Oh."
Qiqi looked down, watching droplets of condensation slide down the side of his glass. "I didn't say yes. Not yet."
"And?"
"I wanted to. I almost did," he whispered. "But I stopped him. I wasn't sure if I was ready."
Yutong rested his chin on his palm. "That's fair. That's... very fair."
"I know what marking is—like, biologically. The scent-binding, the heat synchronization. But I don't know what it means emotionally. It's scary."
"It should be," Yutong said, voice quiet and completely free of mockery. "Because it's real. It's not just instinct. A mark doesn't fade easily. It's memory and craving and vulnerability. And if it's not right—if you give that part of yourself to the wrong person—it becomes a scar you carry under your skin."
Qiqi looked up slowly, catching the subtle shift in Yutong's gaze. "Have you ever…?"
"I have." Yutong's smile faltered, lips twitching like he wasn't sure whether to smile or wince. "Once."
"What happened?" Qiqi asked softly.
Yutong looked out toward the wisteria vines curling over the railing. "He marked me without registering it. Said it was just temporary. A way to 'keep others away' while we figured things out. It wasn't done through the government system, so I'm still unregistered. No legal ties. No bond contract. Just the scar. Just the memory."
Qiqi's brows drew together. "That's allowed?"
Yutong nodded. "Technically. Temporary scent claims aren't illegal, but they're… controversial. No paper trail. No protection. All of the vulnerability, none of the responsibility."
Qiqi's heart twisted. "Did you want it?"
"I thought I did." Yutong's smile was bitter now. "I thought it meant we were in love. That it was the beginning of something. But it turned out to be the end. He left, and I was left with something that couldn't be undone."
He reached up and gently touched his collarbone, just under his left ear. "The gland doesn't scar, but I swear some nights I can still feel the shape of his teeth."
"I'm so sorry, Yutong."
"Don't be. I'm not telling you this to scare you. I'm telling you so you understand that marking is not just a romantic gesture. It's a psychological, emotional—and sometimes legal—commitment. It's saying 'I'm tying part of myself to you,' and trusting you not to walk away with it."
Qiqi's chest felt tight. "But you said it was temporary. Doesn't that mean the bond fades?"
Yutong nodded. "Eventually. But not painlessly. It took me nearly a year to purge his scent from my instincts. My body kept expecting him—aching for him—long after he was gone. I had phantom bonds. Nightmares. My scent was volatile for months."
He looked Qiqi dead in the eye. "That's why you don't rush it. Because once you're marked, even if it's not registered, your instincts don't know the difference."
Qiqi reached across the table and squeezed Yutong's hand. "You're really strong."
Yutong gave a sad little chuckle. "I fake it really well."
They sat in silence for a moment, letting the wind stir around them, bees buzzing lazily near the flowers.
"…Even after all that," Qiqi said eventually, "I still think I want it. I want to be marked. But I want to know that it's real. That it's love. Not fear or pressure or... possession."
"Then you're already a step ahead of most people," Yutong said. "And if it's Pei Yuchen—if what you've told me about him is true—then I think he'll wait until you're ready. The real Alphas do."
Qiqi smiled softly, hand still warm around Yutong's.
"Thanks for trusting me with that."
Yutong shrugged with a graceful smile. "Just promise me that if he marks you, it's not because he can. But because you want him to."
"I promise."
And under that dappled shade and honeyed light, surrounded by soft laughter and the gentle scent of blooms, Shen Qiqi felt something inside him quietly shift again.
It wasn't fear that held him back anymore.
It was patience.
Because now, he understood—what a mark could mean, what it could break, and what it could build