The Pretty Beta is Forced to Become a Heartthrob Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Punishment (I)

“Drink it.”

Shang Yan smiled as he pressed the rim of the champagne glass against Jiang Zhaosheng’s lips.

He poured too quickly; the champagne slid down the man’s chin, pooling in his collarbone like gold leaf. Shang Yan suddenly pinched Jiang Zhaosheng’s jaw and turned him toward Wen Zheng:

“When apologizing, you should face the aggrieved party.”

His lips were beautifully shaped, moving as if he said something.

But Wen Zheng could only hear the sound of blood rushing through his ears. His brain, due to the extreme rush of blood, even emitted a slight buzzing. The bandages on his right hand were seeping with blood.

The hem of the long dress swept through the air like a black swallowtail butterfly. Jiang Zhaosheng was like a specimen, lying sideways upon the white, frame-like bed.

Only the gold chains swaying gently with his shallow breathing proved that this person—beautiful as a doll in a glass display case—still possessed a trace of life. Those tourmaline-like eyes were currently clouded with mist, and his thick, doll-like lashes were curled, casting a small shadow beneath his lids.

Looking down from Shang Yan’s high vantage point, that face presented a fragile beauty sufficient to stir possessiveness and protective instincts in anyone—yet he felt angry.

Jiang Zhaosheng’s near-resigned, passive attitude made Shang Yan frequently doubt—how could the man who once scorched his soul like a wildfire become this lifeless figure who allowed himself to be manipulated?

Shang Yan let out a cold laugh:

“If you think playing dead in front of me is useful… then keep playing.”

He roughly made Jiang Zhaosheng face away from him, applying psychological pressure like a form of torture.

Damn it, Jiang Zhaosheng thought, closing his eyes. This lunatic… did I kill his whole family or dig up his ancestral grave in my past life?

The man’s thick, smooth black hair had already grown past his shoulder blades. Now it was scattered across the white sheets, looking like a piece of fine silk.

From behind, the length was just enough for a hand to grasp—no one could resist such a temptation.

In the dim light, the tightly gritted teeth were startling. Wen Zheng held his wound; the bandages were contaminated with a mix of blood and medicine, looking so pathetic it was hard to watch. The fire in his heart was replaced by a heavy gloom:

“…Don’t be like this.”

Shang Yan remained deaf to his words.

“I said punishment,” Wen Zheng’s voice was strained, “I should be the one to decide it, right?”

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According to the twisted “rotation” rules between them, it indeed seemed to be Wen Zheng’s turn.

“……Fine.”

Shang Yan agreed, unexpectedly and even somewhat readily.

Jiang Zhaosheng’s heart tightened. How could this lunatic be so kind?

Sure enough, the next second he spoke:

“Your hand isn’t convenient, is it? Blood is almost dripping all over the floor. I’ll help you hold him.”

“Darling—”

He leaned down and patted Jiang Zhaosheng’s tear- and wine-stained cheek with the back of his hand. His movements were gentle, but the words he spoke were:

“It’s time to change ‘seats.’ Don’t you think it would be more convenient for Mr. Wen as well, hmm?”

Shang Yan’s so-called “step back” was just another way of showing his control through a more humiliating method. Like handling a delicate doll, he easily scooped up Jiang Zhaosheng by the back and the crook of his knees, lifting him in a princess carry.

Now, the posture remained the same as when Wen Zheng entered, but the people were swapped.

Wen Zheng sat on the sofa, somewhat overwhelmed by the current scene.

Jiang Zhaosheng’s wrists were bound by a dark blue school tie. The fabric hung from his shoulders, and he seemed only slightly short of breath, his face showing more color. In truth, if one looked into those green eyes, they would find that the cat-like pupils lacked focus, like dusty gems.

“Can you handle it?”

A pair of hands landed on his shoulders, pressing downward. Jiang Zhaosheng and Wen Zheng both let out a sharp breath.

Jiang Zhaosheng had never faced them directly like this, so he felt a surge of fear. He used his bound hands to push back, but they were soft and lacked strength, making it look like he was “refusing while inviting.”

A blank, light, cotton-like substance filled Jiang Zhaosheng’s mind, making his thoughts slow and ethereal. He realized that the glass of champagne might have been tampered with. His first reaction was one of intense disdain—he struggled to mobilize his remaining sharp instincts for analysis:

This kind of pervert usually has an excessively high ego, or is even somewhat insecure… Being a person himself, does Shang Yan have so little confidence in his own abilities?

The “insecure” Alpha he was analyzing was currently standing behind him. One hand firmly held his shoulder while the other arm passed under his armpit, forming a nearly romantic embrace.

If one ignored the other person present.

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Wen Zheng’s gaze fell on Jiang Zhaosheng’s shoulder. Even though the clothes didn’t belong to Jiang Zhaosheng, he instinctively didn’t want the man to be stained by his blood.

His left hand was placed gently on the side of Jiang Zhaosheng’s waist—the very place that had occupied his fantasies this afternoon. The curve of that waist was indeed as he had expected, slender and supple, perfectly fitting into his palm. But a ridiculous thought arose in his heart:

…Did this waist fit his heart perfectly, or was it born to be held by a man’s possessive hand?

“Sweetheart, why have you stopped talking?” Shang Yan’s voice was somewhat raspy as it rang out right against the curve of Jiang Zhaosheng’s ear. His warm breath drifted into the ear canal, stirring a faint shiver.

His embracing arm tightened slightly, like a lover’s intimate cuddle.

“……”

Jiang Zhaosheng only shook his head. His hair whipped against Shang Yan’s face, which actually made the usually unpredictable man let out a laugh.

Wen Zheng was breaking into a sweat… Because Jiang Zhaosheng wasn’t moving, every second was torture for him.

Was there any torture more painful than a wound being soaked in sweat?

For him, this was the situation… or perhaps a combination of both. Wen Zheng suspected that he might have already burst a few tiny blood vessels.

“Can’t you see he’s at a disadvantage? Quick, think of a way for our ‘injured member.'”

Jiang Zhaosheng seemed provoked by these words. Extremely reluctantly, he used the last of his strength to move his knees, trying to prop up his upper body and escape the predicament of being caught in the middle.

However, this weak struggle instead made him lose his balance. Like a cat that had sniffed too much catnip and lost its balance, he tumbled forward into Wen Zheng’s embrace.

Despite being exhausted to the point of wanting to pass out right then, as a well-trained agent, Jiang Zhaosheng could only face reality now.

“How successfully we’ve modified you, haven’t we?”

Wen Zheng’s breathing slowed down, as if he were enduring something, but every breath he exhaled was like the breath of a great beast, scalding against the watery, cool skin of Jiang Zhaosheng’s neck.

Jiang Zhaosheng looked at him with some irritation. Why are you breathing like that?

Wen Zheng thought restraining himself was being gentle, unaware that his behavior was more like a feather scratching at one’s heart. If Jiang Zhaosheng’s hands were free, he probably would have scratched the man’s back into ribbons.

“Your eyes will betray your mood, Zhaozhao.”

“Now… are you feeling happy to death?”

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His heart thudded.

Wen Zheng was thrown into a panic by the fragrance in his arms, yet he met a pair of eyes shimmering with light.

—His heart was gripped by an invisible hand, and for a moment, it nearly stopped beating.

However, this look was only a flash in the pan. The next second, Jiang Zhaosheng furrowed his elegant brows in a way that suggested he couldn’t bear it anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tears slid unexpectedly from the corners of his eyes like crushed diamonds, rolling down his peach-pink cheeks and silently vanishing into the fabric on his own chest, leaving only a small dark damp spot.

Wen Zheng didn’t just care about himself. He still felt uncomfortable all over, yet he let out a sigh of relief.

If Jiang Zhaosheng were being tortured by him, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

“……Is he beautiful?”

Shang Yan didn’t give Jiang Zhaosheng time to catch his breath while leaning on someone else. He grabbed his wrist and gave a forceful pull.

Five clear finger marks were instantly imprinted. Shang Yan kissed the man’s prominent wrist bone with satisfaction, then moved to kiss his brow when Jiang Zhaosheng frowned in pain.

Hot breath puffed against Jiang Zhaosheng’s tightly shut, damp eyelashes. He couldn’t tell if it was Shang Yan’s or the other person’s.

Jiang Zhaosheng twisted his face away in disgust, trying to dodge, but a dry, calloused palm immediately pressed against him, firmly fixing his cheek.

…More annoying than a fly.

He felt terrible. His stomach was empty, and the weakness from not eating all day was magnified infinitely by the alcohol. Currently, his head was splitting, the world was spinning, and his body felt as if it had been taken apart and reassembled.

Especially now, after the brief numbness and sense of detachment vanished, the doubled pain flooded back like a tide.

It seemed that after all these years… something was different after all.

For example, this body was far less capable of handling such a toll than before… Truly…

“…Shut up, all of you. Too loud.”

He passed out amidst the arguing between Shang Yan and Wen Zheng.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but in the darkness, Jiang Zhaosheng vaguely felt a continuous, faint “shik… shik…” sound by his ear.

The sound was monotonous and dry, as if something were repeatedly rubbing together, boring into his groggy consciousness and disturbing the peace he craved.

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Exasperated, he instinctively furrowed his brows and let out a blurred groan from his throat, turning over to face away from the annoying source of noise.

Just as his consciousness was about to slip back into the abyss, a distant and hazy memory suddenly woke him—why did this sound feel so familiar?

It was fingers… someone was using their five fingers, extremely slowly and gently, to comb through his scattered long hair over and over again.

Like an adult beast licking its cub, it had a clumsy, emotionless sense of protection.

Truly… a completely boring, time-wasting trick… Jiang Zhaosheng’s chaotic mind resisted this ill-timed tenderness.

Before losing consciousness completely, he remembered the last thing he saw was Wen Zheng’s eyes, a mix of desire and pain. Such a tender but meaningless gesture could only have been made by Wen Zheng.

Disgusting.

“Shang Yan?”

Jiang Zhaosheng knew that any normal man—especially a man like Wen Zheng who harbored complex feelings for him—would feel extremely frustrated and angry upon hearing the person in his arms unconsciously calling out the name of his abuser.

Sure enough, as he expected.

The hand combing his hair froze instantly.

Following that, Jiang Zhaosheng felt the hand slowly move away from his hair.

With a hint of hesitation, the fingertips slid along the side of his neck. Finally, the calloused thumb—seemingly containing a suppressed emotion—lightly brushed across his soft earlobe like a feather.

“…Shang Yan,” he called out again, his voice even softer than before, his tone slightly nasal, sounding as if he were acting coquettishly.

the effect was even better than he had anticipated; he could almost imagine Wen Zheng’s currently twisted expression.

The breathing beside him hitched for a moment. The air seemed to solidify, carrying an atmosphere like a storm was about to break.

It worked… finally some peace… A faint sense of relief crossed Jiang Zhaosheng’s heart, and the heavy exhaustion rose again like a tide, dragging him into a deeper darkness.

However, a second before he was about to completely submerge, something heavy landed on his head again.

The hand… had actually come back.

The five fingers, with gentle force, plunged deep into his thick hair at the temples once more.

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The movement was still patient, even more careful than before. The pads of the fingers slowly pressed against his scalp to help him relax, combing through the smooth strands with a steady and rhythmic motion. Once, then twice… like hypnosis, in sync with his heartbeat.

“……Hmm.”

Shang Yan’s voice rang by his ear like a clap of thunder.

Jiang Zhaosheng felt it was ridiculous. Had he somehow called out the right name? Was the one giving him a gentle massage Shang Yan? In that moment, he had only one thought—he must be possessed by a ghost.

But the emotional wave only lasted a moment. The massive physical and mental toll finally caused him to sink into total darkness.

Translator’s Note: Finding out your enemy is bad to you isn’t scary; finding out they are good to you is much scarier~

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