Chapter 20

Jiang Zhiyu held the small Omega in his arms, pressing the adhesive patch on his skin a little further down with his fingertips. The slender body trembled violently, a soft whimper like that of a small animal escaping from his throat. Jiang’s hand relaxed slightly, then reached upward.

His long fingers slipped into the fluffy, soft hair, gently massaging it to ease the sharp pain caused by the earlier tugging. Ling Ran lay prostrate before Enigma, the exposed skin of his neck flushed with a pale pink mist. Tears streamed endlessly, soaking into Jiang’s shirt.

Behind them, faint cries gradually arose. Ling Ran’s eyes narrowed as he glanced over Jiang Zhiyu’s shoulder. Tang Jun, who had been lying on the floor, his head covered by an expensive bespoke suit jacket, seemed to have awakened in pain. He groaned and tried to get up.

Jiang Zhiyu steadied Ling Ran against the wall and then turned toward Tang Jun. Tang was about to angrily rip the jacket from his head when Jiang Zhiyu, calm and unreadable, unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt.

In the next instant, with tremendous force, the alpha on the floor was yanked upright. The suit jacket remained tightly wrapped over his head, one hand pressed against it, and with a heavy thud, his head was slammed hard against the corridor wall.

Tang Jun’s dizziness returned instantly, and he nearly collapsed, but the hand holding his head showed no mercy, repeatedly smashing him against the cold tile wall, as if desperate to break him.

The thirty-thousand-dollar suit was ruined, but at least no blood splattered everywhere.

Ling Ran couldn’t fathom the emotions hidden within Jiang Zhiyu’s abyssal eyes. Tang Jun was already silenced, long unconscious.

Jiang Zhiyu rarely resorted to violence, especially on such an important night.

Suddenly, from behind, a pair of slender, pale arms wrapped around his waist, a body warmer than usual pressing close.

He released the alpha, who was now a limp heap, and turned, cradling the Omega horizontally in his arms.

The embrace was warm and broad, faintly carrying the scent of premium tequila—a small sanctuary brimming with safety. Inside the Omega, two conflicting pheromones clashed fiercely. His rosy cheeks pressed up, seeking more of that intoxicating tequila scent.

Feeling the Omega’s subtle plea, Jiang Zhiyu carried him back, winding through the long corridor to a secluded suite, and entered.

He gently laid the Omega on the large bed, then called Zhao Qin, instructing him to handle the alpha still sprawled in the corridor and to find a doctor.

Zhao Qin, having worked with Jiang Zhiyu for years, was still shocked to see the bloodied face beneath the suit jacket. Barely recognizing Tang Jun, he was nearly frantic.

Shaking, Zhao Qin checked for breath—thankfully, there was some.

Soon after, he led a doctor from the island to the door and knocked.

After a while, the door opened.

Jiang Zhiyu had just showered, yet a lingering, unpleasant mix of alpha pheromones and blood clung to him, nauseatingly potent.

He wore only a loosely draped robe, his tall, muscular physique strikingly sculpted, even more so than an average alpha, the contours of his powerful muscles barely concealed beneath white fabric—an embodiment of latent aggression.

Fortunately, the doctor was a beta and highly professional. Without looking away, he approached the bed to examine the little Omega.

Carefully, he removed shards of broken glass embedded in the palm, which thankfully were shallow enough to avoid stitches. After applying ointment and bandaging the hand, the doctor noted that the blood was mostly from others.

Just as he was about to lift the covers to check for further injuries, a voice cut in from behind.

“Please step outside.”

Zhao Qin immediately escorted the doctor out, who left behind several ointments: one for the hand and two for the glands.

Once the door closed, Jiang Zhiyu lit a cigarette and stood over the deeply sleeping Omega.

The Omega’s slumber was restless; his cheeks flushed even redder than before, the rosy mist spreading from his delicate chin down into his collar.

This was due to the temporary marking placed by his destined mate. Despite the suppressor’s effect, the pheromone concentration flowing directly from the glands into the bloodstream was overwhelming—a struggle no fragile Omega could endure.

Moreover, a patch soaked with Enigma pheromones still clung to his gland.

On one side was the perfectly matched destined mate; on the other, the supreme Enigma, superior to all genders.

Within the Omega, a fierce, silent battle raged.

The cigarette’s tip burned low; Jiang Zhiyu crushed it out casually, then bent over and flung the covers aside.

The sudden chill made the Omega shiver twice, furrowing his brow, but he did not wake.

Jiang Zhiyu touched his sweat-dampened clothes—the Omega seemed thinner than when last seen, his slender waist and protruding hip bones more pronounced.

The air was thick with the scent of roses and grapes, as if the once unripe fruit had been soaked in honeyed water, peeled, and its tender flesh drenched—ripened, overripe, and decayed by the competing pheromones.

Noticing the small white leg ring adorning the obedient Omega, an expression of slight relief crossed Jiang Zhiyu’s impassive, handsome face, his narrow eyes squinting gently.

Indeed, the Omega was smaller than he had estimated—he had thought the slight frame couldn’t weigh more than two taels.

The legs were still thin but proportionate, especially the thighs, which appeared plump enough to bear the faint ring of soft flesh squeezed by the leg band.

Yet, below, the two small, rounded kneecaps were bruised dark blue, not fresh wounds but likely punishment incurred days ago.

Jiang Zhiyu reached for the ointment on the bedside, squeezed some onto his fingers, and gently applied it to the bruises and a shallow scratch on the pale instep, treating them with care.

After applying the medicine, he called Xu Guanyi in Europe.

After briefly explaining Ling Ran’s condition, Xu Guanyi’s tone grew grave.

“Is he still feverish?”

Jiang Zhiyu stroked the Omega’s face—soft, delicate, comparable to the finest jade, still moist with tears.

“Yes.”

Xu Guanyi said, “That’s not good. You’ve previously helped ease his heat period; his body now instinctively receives your pheromones. Two kinds of pheromones are fighting inside him, a fierce, no-holds-barred war. The duration is uncertain, and he will suffer greatly.”

“How to resolve it?” Jiang Zhiyu asked tersely.

After a pause, Xu Guanyi replied, “Two options: either have the destined mate bite him again to deepen the temporary mark, or you bite him. Enigma pheromones can overwrite any alpha’s temporary mark, as long as you give him enough to fully suppress the original. However, this may induce heat or worsen his dependency. Still, it can’t be worse than now.”

As if anticipating Jiang Zhiyu’s choice, Xu Guanyi added kindly before hanging up, “Remember to remove his suppressor beforehand.”

Silence fell again, pierced only by the Omega’s uneven, painful breaths.

The phone rang once more.

It was Yan Xiwen, the newly appointed president of Yan Corporation, who had just negotiated a deal with Jiang Zhiyu on the cruise. He was deliberately reaching out to build rapport.

“Mr. Jiang, you just missed quite a spectacle,” Yan Xiwen chuckled over the line. “About half an hour ago, Mr. Sheng Yi of the Jiang Group publicly announced he had broken off his engagement with the Ling family—that is, he has called off his betrothal to their youngest son.”

The man on the other end seemed unsurprised, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Is that so?”

Cold fingers reached out, barely brushing the tender flesh of the leg, and illuminated the screen on the slender white leg ring.