Chapter 27: Do you want to bite me?

A wound cuts through skin and sinew. Given enough time, the flesh rots, the blood drains, and the pain stops.

After Ji Jixuan left without saying goodbye that day, Xu Lin discovered the broken glass in the study and a stain soaked into the carpet—whatever it was, it was unrecognizable by the next morning. Probably some small thing Ji Jixuan had accidentally spilled. Xu Lin cleaned it up quietly and didn’t think much of it.

The bruise on his ankle faded day by day, soon returning to normal.

The scar on his face also gradually improved.

Qin Yu was a dedicated doctor. Rain or shine, he showed up at Xu Lin’s door on time. Since Xu Lin had gone out with Ji Jixuan that one time, he stopped making things difficult for Qin Yu and cooperated fully with the treatment.

Xu Lin no longer asked Ji Jixuan to come home. He’d seen with his own eyes that Ji Jixuan’s busyness wasn’t a lie. Since he needed space, Xu Lin wouldn’t disturb him.

By the end of the second year, only one scar remained on Xu Lin’s face—a line from his temple diagonally across his eye. It was already faint.

Qin Yu estimated that in about two more months, his face would be fully restored.

He congratulated Xu Lin.

Xu Lin looked in the mirror, touched the slight bump beneath his eye, and said “same to you.”

Once he was healed, Qin Yu wouldn’t need to come every week. After nearly two years, Dr. Qin could finally enjoy a peaceful weekend.

And Xu Lin could finally go back to District Thirteen for a visit.

Ji Jixuan was too busy to even come home. Surely it wouldn’t matter if Xu Lin went back to District Thirteen for a while.

He wondered if Pu Sha’s school had been built, if they’d recruited students, if he was busy, if he was tired.

On the nightstand, Xu Lin kept a small standing calendar. On days Ji Jixuan didn’t come home, he marked an X.

Page after page was covered in red crosses.

Half a year, then another half year. The empty squares were few.

Soon, it was New Year’s Eve again.

This time, Xu Lin had learned his lesson. He sent Ji Jixuan a message first, asking if he’d be coming home for dinner.

Half an hour later, Ji Jixuan replied with two words, “Coming back.”

With that confirmation, Xu Lin made the New Year’s feast with anticipation.

On New Year’s Eve, Xu Lin sat by the entrance, guarding a table of hot dishes, waiting. The scene overlapped with the previous year’s.

He blew warm air into his palms and smiled.

No, it was different this time. Ji Jixuan would definitely come home. He’d promised.

Xu Lin waited, and waited, until the food went cold, until midnight passed, until 3 AM.

He rubbed his frozen face and thought drowsily: had he been stood up?

It turned out this time was just like the last.

He went inside and put the food in the fridge again. He wasn’t sleepy, and didn’t plan to sleep, so he went to the media room to watch a movie.

He pulled up the film he’d seen eight hundred times, the one he could recite by heart, and watched the intimate scenes between the leads.

The room was dark, lit only by the flickering screen.

Sleep crept in. Xu Lin couldn’t stay upright, so he lay down on the sofa.

He rested his head on a cushion and wrapped himself in a blanket.

The actors looked so comfortable. Was it really that enjoyable? He wondered what it felt like.

He was just a little curious.

Actually… it wasn’t like he’d never thought about it with Ji Jixuan. He’d even worked up the courage to initiate, but Ji Jixuan always brushed him off.

He didn’t like kissing. He didn’t seem to like that kind of thing either.

What would it be like to kiss the person you loved?

But Ji Jixuan didn’t like it. He’d probably never know.

Xu Lin yawned, half-closing his eyes. At the thought, he let out a drowsy laugh.

Two years of marriage, and he still had his first kiss and his first time. If anyone found out, they’d laugh their heads off.

“…”

Xu Lin curled up, wrapping himself in the blanket like a silkworm.

Stop thinking about it.

He silently scolded himself, buried his face in his arms, and fell asleep.

He wasn’t fully asleep yet. The movie had ended and stopped playing. The room was quiet, but he heard a very faint car engine.

Xu Lin opened his eyes and propped himself up. He listened carefully—it wasn’t his imagination.

It was right downstairs.

He ran to the window, pulled back the curtain, and saw Ji Jixuan’s car parked below. But it was parked crookedly on the lawn, crushing flowers and grass, with skid marks suggesting a sudden stop.

He never parked like that.

The headlights were on, the engine still running. Ji Jixuan hadn’t gotten out yet.

How long had he been back?

Xu Lin ran downstairs.

---

“Coming home for dinner today?”

After seeing Xu Lin’s message, Ji Jixuan set aside his work and replied.

Zong Xi, nearby, noticed. “What, heading back?”

“Yeah.”

After replying, Ji Jixuan took off his lab coat, retrieved a syringe from the cabinet, and injected it into his arm.

Zong Xi frowned. “You’re using too much of that trial stuff.”

“No matter how confident you are in your abilities, you shouldn’t overuse it.”

He’d said this countless times, but Ji Jixuan probably never listened.

“Not having a relapse for half a year is good,” Zong Xi rambled. “Stay cautious. Better safe than sorry.”

Six months ago, Ji Jixuan had left suddenly during a rut, barely driving himself to a lab on the outskirts of town. Only he and Zong Xi knew about the place.

The sealed isolation room in the lab was where Ji Jixuan spent most of his ruts.

That time, he’d used a suppressant he’d developed himself, ignoring Zong Xi’s objections. He locked himself in the isolation room and ordered that no one open it, no matter what happened.

Zong Xi spent the whole time watching the monitors, terrified Ji Jixuan would actually kill himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ji Jixuan—but reality was clear. Ji Jixuan wasn’t Ji Wang.

Ji Wang was obsessed with research, spending 24 hours a day in the lab, working with drug data. He had experience and a professional, stable team. This was his domain. His success was inevitable.

Ji Jixuan was alone, figuring everything out himself. Though he’d somehow managed to develop a formula, it hadn’t undergone clinical trials. They had no idea what side effects it might have on the human body.

Unless talent could be inherited.

Otherwise, who knew what that injection would do.

The suppressants on the market no longer worked for Ji Jixuan. His only option was to mark an Omega.

But Ji Jixuan refused.

Zong Xi had been ready to take him to the hospital.

Surprisingly, the injection worked remarkably well. Ji Jixuan’s rut ended within two days. Aside from a few days of weakness, there were no major side effects.

Zong Xi was stunned. Ji Jixuan was ridiculously talented—he’d actually carved an escape route out of a crumbling ruin.

After that, Ji Jixuan used the injection regularly. His rut had been stable for six months, with no incidents.

Zong Xi couldn’t help but think, with a mix of amusement and schadenfreude: Ji Wang had spent decades obsessively researching, using his own grandson as a test subject for his passion, ignoring his family’s welfare to establish himself in his field.

When the test subject was on the verge of collapse, useless, he discarded him.

If Ji Wang ever found out that his grandson, whom he’d used like a tool, might have more talent in this area than him—

That throne he’d held for so many years, now precarious—what would he think?

---

Before returning to the villa, Ji Jixuan recalled his last hasty departure. He gave himself the injection as a precaution.

Qin Yu had told him that in two months, Xu Lin’s scar would be fully healed.

This would be their last New Year together.

For the past six months, when Ji Jixuan wasn’t working, he’d been in the lab—not just planning for his own future, but also deliberately avoiding Xu Lin.

The fewer lingering feelings Xu Lin had for him, the cleaner his departure from Danshi would be.

But this was the last time. There was no need to avoid him anymore.

He could have one meal with him.

There wouldn’t be a next time anyway.

On the way back, he got a call from Xiao Jin. Ji Jixuan detoured to the company to handle something. By the time he reached the villa, it was past 3 AM.

He assumed Xu Lin was already asleep.

But on the mountain road, he saw the villa’s lights still on from a distance.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Was he still waiting?

As the car entered the gate, in a split second, Ji Jixuan’s vision went black. The pounding of his own heartbeat roared in his ears. His hands, holding the wheel, jerked instinctively, and the car careened onto the lawn.

His pupils dilated, unfocused, unable to see. He stomped on the brakes by feel, barely stopping the car.

He blinked hard. The darkness slowly receded, replaced by mottled patches of color. Before his vision fully cleared, a searing pain erupted in his chest—worse than anything before.

Ji Jixuan was usually good at enduring pain, but this time, he couldn’t help a pained groan.

Sweat streamed down his face. He slumped over the steering wheel, clutching his chest, gasping for air he couldn’t get, suffocating.

A sharp blade sawed at his frayed nerves with maddening frequency.

He knew this was bad.

The old, rotten string inside him—so long stretched taut—had snapped without warning.

He reached for his phone to call someone, but his hand shook. The phone slipped and fell beneath the seat.

He didn’t even have the strength to pick it up.

His heart raced, his eardrums throbbing, the pounding hammering against his skull. He wanted to drive away, but his legs felt like lead, impossible to move.

Then, through the blur, a figure appeared. The car door opened, and the first thing he noticed was an overwhelming fragrance wrapping around him. Then a tense voice, “Xuan-ge, what’s wrong?”

It was Xu Lin.

Xu Lin was a Beta. A Beta shouldn’t have such a strong scent. He had no pheromones.

So what was this fragrance?

Ji Jixuan’s consciousness began to falter.

The back of his neck burned like a red-hot iron, searing, throbbing.

All outside sounds were muffled, as if underwater.

Xu Lin was still saying something, sounding anxious. He supported Ji Jixuan’s limp body. Through the blur, he could barely make out Xu Lin’s face.

“Under the desk… 6393… suppressant… go…”

He barely forced the words out. He didn’t know if Xu Lin understood. Xu Lin said, “Okay, wait for me,” and ran off.

As he left, the scent faded. Ji Jixuan lifted his head, though he still couldn’t see clearly. His unfocused gaze instinctively followed the direction Xu Lin had gone.

He couldn’t see him anymore, but he could still hear his voice.

Footsteps. Breathing.

He was running through the villa, rummaging.

---

Xu Lin had seen Ji Jixuan slumped in the car, pale and drenched in sweat. When he touched him, he was burning up.

He was barely conscious. Xu Lin called his name several times before he managed to rasp out a few words. Piecing them together, Xu Lin guessed he was in rut and needed a suppressant.

He had no experience dealing with an Alpha’s rut. He did whatever Ji Jixuan said. He ran to the study on the second floor. He’d seen the cabinet under the desk before, but it had a lock, so he’d assumed it held important work documents and never tried to open it.

6393. His fingers trembling, he keyed in the code and found a small cooler inside. It was filled with unlabeled vials of various medications—so many kinds, he couldn’t tell which was which.

Suppressant. Which one was the suppressant?

He didn’t know. They all looked alike. So he grabbed two of everything and ran back downstairs.

In the car, just minutes later, Ji Jixuan’s face was completely drained of color.

Xu Lin showed him the handful of vials. “Which one? Which one is it?”

Ji Jixuan’s gaze fell on a syringe. Xu Lin understood immediately, pulled it out, and said, “Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you. Don’t panic.”

He didn’t know if he was comforting Ji Jixuan or psyching himself up.

He rolled up Ji Jixuan’s sleeve—and froze. He stared at the dense network of needle marks on his arm, stunned.

His heart racing, Xu Lin said, “Let’s, let’s try the other arm.”

This arm had too many needle holes.

He grabbed Ji Jixuan’s other arm. It was just as bad.

The marks were densely packed, horrifying. Was he using suppressants that often?

Was that okay? Was his body alright?

Seeing Xu Lin frozen, Ji Jixuan grabbed the suppressant himself—one injection after another. He did it forcefully, blood seeping from the punctures.

Xu Lin’s heart clenched, as if the needles were piercing his own skin. His scalp tingled. He gritted his teeth and grabbed Ji Jixuan’s wrist, stopping him.

Xu Lin: “Don’t…”

Ji Jixuan looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

Xu Lin’s throat went dry. “Is there… anything I can do to help?”

He remembered—an Alpha in rut just needed to bite someone, right?

He and Ji Jixuan were married. He was his partner.

“I know I’m a Beta, but if it’ll make you feel better…”

Xu Lin turned around, lifted his hair, and exposed the pale nape of his neck.

“Do you want to bite me?”