Part 2
Qin Yichuan was beaten into a daze. He howled and scurried away with his head in his hands, completely unable to understand how this beautiful, quiet person could suddenly become so fierce.
When the adults arrived after hearing the noise, this was the sight they beheld: Jiang Zhaosheng with disheveled hair, his white shirt stained with dust, one wrist red and raw. He was standing straight, pinning someone under his foot, his hand tightly clutching the blood-stained branch while he panted… his tears were still falling, “patter-patter.”
Meanwhile, Qin Yichuan sported a rapidly bruising black eye, a bleeding cut on his forehead, and was being stepped on and whipped with the branch. He was in a wretched state, clutching his head and begging for mercy.
Later, it was the slightly older Shen Qiming who arrived upon hearing the news and separated them with a cold face.
He pulled Jiang Zhaosheng behind him, carefully lifting the injured wrist to examine the marks, and asked in a low voice:
“Are you okay? Does it hurt? I’ll take you to get medicine.”
From beginning to end, Jiang Zhaosheng never looked at Qin Yichuan again, as if he were nothing more than a puff of unpleasant air.
Qin Yichuan only realized later that after that terrible first encounter, he had permanently lost the right to get close to him.
In the years that followed, Qin Yichuan spent an entire decade clumsily and persistently trying to make up for that offense.
He offered the most beautiful marbles and cards he could find, only for Jiang Zhaosheng to throw them into the trash without a second look. He tried to lean in to look at briefings together, but Jiang Zhaosheng would immediately snap the folder shut, glance at him with those cold blue-green eyes, and turn to leave. He even tried to bring Jiang Zhaosheng breakfast like others did, but that breakfast ultimately ended up in the dog bowl at the training grounds.
Their relationship shifted from one of tolerance to one of constant conflict. They became colleagues, yet their relationship was as incompatible as fire and water. Jiang Zhaosheng’s targeting was omnipresent, accurately stepping on Qin Yichuan’s sore spots every single time.
In the end, Qin Yichuan even became accustomed to this targeting. It was their twisted way of communicating; only through intense methods could he ever hope to occupy a space in that man’s eyes.
…
“Disgusting?” Qin Yichuan repeated.
The Alpha’s previous panic and clumsiness vanished without a trace.
Qin Yichuan’s gaze grew calm, but in the depths, a heart-shaking undercurrent surged.
“Jiang Zhaosheng, to you, am I always going to be that idiot whom you can stab with a flying knife at will and humiliate with the most hideous words, yet you won’t even bat an eye?”
The years of accumulated tolerance finally exploded in this moment.
“Who are you calling disgusting?”
Jiang Zhaosheng felt that things were going poorly. He had briefly lost consciousness just now and couldn’t even distinguish who was in front of him.
Shang Yan? Wen Zheng? Shen Qiming? Samuel?
“…”
Jiang Zhaosheng was completely at a loss for words. No matter who it was, they could easily manipulate him now; this body was simply too much of a burden…
He blinked in confusion, trying to clear away the excess moisture. To Qin Yichuan, it looked like he was acting spoiled and coquettish, though the target was definitely not himābecause Jiang Zhaosheng would never make that kind of expression toward him.
So this was how terrible it felt to be a substitute; his heart was shattered into pieces like falling glass.
God knew that when he saw Jiang Zhaosheng’s medical report, he couldn’t help but think maliciously: A problem that can be fixed with one meal.
He had suffered day and night, using his nemesis as the subject of his “reward” fantasies.
Now, he had finally fallen into his hands.
Qin Yichuan didn’t continue his futile persuasion. Instead, he reached out and grabbed one of Jiang Zhaosheng’s wrists.
Unlike the plastic rope, he was now large enough to restrain him with his hand. His strength was perfectly controlledāenough to prevent the prey from escaping, yet not enough to leave a bruise.
“Fine,” Qin Yichuan’s voice dropped, carrying a slow, methodical rhythm that was the opposite of his boisterous personality. “Since you won’t listen when spoken to nicely.”
Because his wrist was restrained, Jiang Zhaosheng became even more reactive, his other hand scratching and attacking haphazardly.
In the chaos, there was a soft “puchi” soundāthe sound of a blade sinking into flesh.
Qin Yichuan slowly lowered his head and saw a dark red stain rapidly spreading across the grey towel belonging to Jiang Zhaosheng that was wrapped around his waist. A small, sharp folding knife was buried deep in his side.
His first reaction upon seeing it was… to laugh from sheer anger.
A man’s intuition told him that Jiang Zhaosheng likely wouldn’t have stabbed anyone else in a moment like this.
Qin Yichuan acted as if he felt no pain and let out a low chuckle.
What reached Jiang Zhaoshengās ear wasn’t a cold laugh, but Qin Yichuanās magnetic voice, carrying a spine-chilling sense of satisfaction.
Jiang Zhaosheng briefly regained clarity, feeling a hint of fear in his heart.
He suddenly remembered how many times over the years he had used Shen Qimingās favoritism to suppress the manāfor instance, throwing a flying knife at Qin Yichuan while he was sick, causing his wounds to reopen… making him carry out more dangerous missions with lower pay…
Now, Qin Yichuan seemed truly insane, his laughter so terrifying… Jiang Zhaosheng had no doubt that a new wound was about to be added to his own body.
His wrist stopped struggling, and his hand clutched the knife handle tightly. Jiang Zhaosheng watched Qin Yichuan nervously. The man had his head lowered, staring at the wound on his abdomen.
“Heh…” He looked up, his eyes meeting the tense and guarded Jiang Zhaosheng.
Qin Yichuan had drooping eyes. Usually, Jiang Zhaosheng looked at him no differently than he looked at a dog. But now, those eyesāwhich usually appeared either loyal or stupidācontained only a deep, near-sated focus, as if a predator had finally pinned down the prey it had long coveted.
“As expected of you… that was a vicious stab.”
He even held Jiang Zhaosheng’s hand that was gripping the knife handle. With a bone-chilling patience, he guided the blade to slowly turn half a circle within his own flesh.
Qin Yichuan watched with satisfaction as Jiang Zhaosheng sucked in a breath of cold air. For the first time, an emotion other than disgust or anger appeared in the man’s eyesāa trace of unbelievable dread.
An honest man going crazy… is scarier than a lunatic, Jiang Zhaosheng thought.
He tried to pull his hand back, but it was held firmly in place by Qin Yichuan’s hand.
“Don’t be afraid,” Qin Yichuan’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle as his other hand caressed Jiang Zhaosheng’s burning cheek. “Don’t you hate me? Don’t you find me disgusting?”
He leaned down, his nose grazing Jiang Zhaosheng’s in a nuzzle. Their breaths intertwined, the rich rose fragrance mixing with the smell of blood.
“Either you stab me to death,” Qin Yichuan whispered enticingly into his ear while one hand clamped Jiang Zhaosheng’s wrist and the other fixed his head in place, “or, I’ll…”
Before the sentence finished, he suddenly lowered his head and bit down on Jiang Zhaosheng’s Adam’s apple. It wasn’t a vicious tear, but a sucking and gnawing that carried the intent of punishment and marking, leaving behind an unmistakably clear red mark.
Jiang Zhaosheng tilted his head back and let out a short whimper, his body trembling violently as the dense rose pheromones expanded like an explosion.
Qin Yichuan released his teeth, his gaze terrifyingly dark.
He easily pinned Jiang Zhaosheng down onto the carpet, his knee pushing apart the man’s powerless legs as he loomed over him.
“Young Lady, let me tell you another secret…”
He pressed his forehead against Jiang Zhaosheng’s, his voice raspy beyond belief, carrying scorching desire and a dangerous aura.
“…Every time you looked for trouble with me, I was actually feeling so… good… from your abuse.”
Jiang Zhaosheng looked at him with uncertainty, as if he had heard some insane rambling. His face was a complete blank.
Qin Yichuan knew as soon as he saw his expression: Jiang Zhaosheng must be cursing me in his head again.
The years of conflict had made him like Pavlov’s dog; hearing Jiang Zhaosheng’s harsh words didn’t make him angry, but instead filled him with a strange pleasureā¦
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