Dong Yingming walked the halls of the tower block with his usual commanding stride, but something subtle in his expression had shifted. The cool tension that had gripped him since the Warden's office had softened just slightly, mellowed by the soft weight of the velvet-wrapped music box he carried carefully under one arm. His other hand, now resting loosely in his coat pocket, curled protectively around a single pill he separated from the bottle.
Dong Yingming strode briskly back toward their shared luxurious cell, the corridor lights overhead cast angular shadows along his path, deepening the harsh contours of his expression. But even beneath the severity, a faint smile tugged at the edge of his lips—he was eager to see Yao Ziyang again, to offer his present and coax out that rare, heart-stopping smile he adored.
The gift was small, maybe even silly. But it was for his Ziyang. And that made it sacred.
As he reached the hallway leading to their private suite, he slowed his steps, savoring the warmth building in his chest. He neared the cell door and Dong Yingming's heart softened. His fingers brushed gently along the handle, eager to surprise the delicate figure waiting within. Just behind this door was the only person in this prison who could unravel him with a single smile. He reached for the handle, cracked the door softly, soundlessly, carefully pushing it open—
—and paused.
Laughter. Light and silvery, as crisp and bright as wind chimes dancing in the breeze. His heart fluttered. His grip on the gift relaxed. That sound—so unguarded, so pure—washed over him like sunlight after stormclouds. He leaned in without meaning to, intoxicated.
The sound of Yao Ziyang's light, sparkling laughter immediately drifted to his ears, melting Dong's heart like a warm spring thaw. The pure, joyous sound seeped into his chest, chasing away all lingering irritation from his visit with Warden Liu. For a brief second, he closed his eyes, savoring it.
Then a second voice drifted out—rougher, lower. Male. Familiar.
Wei Jiang.
His voice, tinged unmistakably with admiration.
"Ziyang, you look really incredible in that outfit. But why don't you try another outfit for me? Try this one or, oh—maybe something tighter? For comparison, of course."
Dong Yingming's body tensed. In an instant, the sunlight shattered. The warmth in Dong Yingming's heart instantly iced over, frozen mid-beat, shattering into shards of ice. Rage thundered through him, a raw, possessive fury that erupted like wildfire. His grip tightened hard enough to nearly crush the music box casing in his hand.
He didn't knock.
He didn't announce himself.
He slammed the door open with violent force, rattling it on its hinges. It crashes against the wall with a reverberating crack, the echoing sound so sharp and thunderous it jolted both occupants inside the cell.
The sight that greeted him was worse than anything he could have imagined.
There was Yao Ziyang—his beloved Ziyang—standing barefoot in the middle of their room, wearing tiny shorts that clung shamelessly to his slender hips and a white tank top that exposed far too much delicate skin. Clothes were scattered carelessly across the floor and around the bed, as if they'd been engaged in some sort of playful fashion show.
And on that very bed—the sacred bed Dong Yingming himself had chosen personally, intending it to belong solely to him and Yao Ziyang—sat Wei Jiang, looking utterly entranced. His eyes openly traced every inch of Yao Ziyang's porcelain skin with obvious longing.
Dong Yingming's jaw tightened painfully.
Yao Ziyang flinched in surprise and slight fear at the aggression of the door opening. His eyes widened like a startled deer—until he saw clearly who had entered. In an instant, his wide eyes immediately lit up, fear shifted into pure, overflowing joy.
"Darling!"
He exclaimed, voice filled with relief and as sweet as honey, as if nothing in the world mattered more than this reunion.
Without a second's hesitation, before Dong Yingming could even register what was happening, Yao Ziyang sprinted toward him in those little shorts and that paper-thin tank top—leaving a trail of skin and disheveled clothes in his wake—practically throwing himself with reckless glee into Dong Yingming's strong embrace. Dong Yingming's arms immediately wrapped around the smaller man, catching him automatically and pulling him protectively, possessively against his broad chest. The music box still clutched protectively in one hand.
And in that instant—all the fury, all the murderous thoughts of what he might do to Wei Jiang—evaporated.
He held Yao Ziyang tightly. His arms wrapped securely around his waist, and his nose pressed into the crook of his neck. That scent. That voice. That smile. It all swelled in his chest like a crashing tide.
As Yao Ziyang nestled trustingly into Dong Yingming's warmth, every last trace of rage drained away from man, leaving only quiet triumph and smug pride. His dark blue eyes flicked up to met Wei Jiang's eyes from over Yao Ziyang's platinum-blond head, gaze coldly victorious, as if daring the other man to challenge the claim he'd already won.
Wei Jiang was still on the bed. His bed. Their bed. Sitting like some smug, low-born fool, eyes still half-lidded with lingering arousal, his mouth slightly parted as though still caught in the trance of Yao Ziyang's exposed skin.
Dong Yingming's glare was merciless. His lips curled faintly—not in warmth, but in triumph.
Because Yao Ziyang had chosen. Without hesitation. Without doubt. No words exchanged, no commands issued.
Yao Ziyang ran to him.
He won.
And Wei Jiang knew it.
The younger man's expression shifted from stunned disbelief to slow-burning rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he sat motionless, struck dumb by how swiftly Yao Ziyang had abandoned him for Dong Yingming. His heart twisted bitterly, frustration gnawing painfully at him. He remembered vividly the beatings Dong Yingming had given him, the heartache his boss had repeatedly caused Yao Ziyang. He seethed inwardly, his fists clenching tightly, knuckles turning white.
Dong Yingming watched with detached amusement as Wei Jiang's eyes narrowed on him like a wolf denied a meal.
Yao Ziyang, cradled against Dong Yingming's strong chest, nuzzled contentedly, but then paused. His brows furrowed slightly. A strange look flickered across his features. Suddenly, still held safely in Dong Yingming's embrace, Yao Ziyang inhaled slowly. A soft, sweet scent filled his senses, warm and inviting, stirring feelings of comfort and deep familiarity. It wasn't Dong Yingming's scent, nor was it the scent of their shared cell. It was different—rich, warm, comforting, and strangely compelling, like something from home.
Dong Yingming didn't notice.
But Yao Ziyang did.
Pheromones. But not Dong Yingming's.
Dong Yingming's scent was rich, dark, and addictive—warm caramel and amber laced with something dangerous, like the smoke of a well-aged whisky.
But this scent—this other scent—was new. Softer. Not as deep. Gentle, steady. Familiar.
His nose twitched. He blinked.
He turned his head slightly in Dong Yingming's arms trying to locate who the trail led to.
He blinked again slowly, puzzled and intrigued. He inhaled again, gently following the trail of the fragrance, his eyes drifting across the room until he met Wei Jiang's intense gaze. Wei Jiang was glaring fiercely, openly hostile toward his boss. It struck Yao Ziyang suddenly—Wei Jiang was the source of this new, enthralling aroma.
Their glares clashed like swords.
'Ah…'
Yao Ziyang thought.
'So that's who I'm smelling.'
He blinked again, a bit amazed as realization dawned on Yao Ziyang in a silent, breathtaking instant.
Wei Jiang was Alpha-coded.
'Alpha. Just like Brother Dong. Yet totally different...'
His scent didn't roar—it simmered. It was like a home-cooked meal, a blanket after the rain, a hand offered in quiet protection.
'But he doesn't even know he's emitting it.'
Neither of them did.
They couldn't smell it. No one could.
Except him.
The only Omega in the world.
Yao Ziyang blinked once more, then smiled slowly, curling his fingers into Dong Yingming's shirt as he leaned his cheek against his man's collarbone.
'This is getting interesting.'
No one else could sense it, neither Dong Yingming nor Wei Jiang himself had any idea of their secondary genders or the meaning behind the scent they emitted. Only Yao Ziyang knew. Only he understood this was the pheromone signature of an Alpha. And as an Omega in his past life, he was the only being in the entire world able to recognize, understand, and react to it.
A tiny, invisible tremor ran down Yao Ziyang's spine, hidden carefully beneath his innocent expression. This discovery added layers of complexity he had not anticipated. The man holding him, protecting him possessively—Dong Yingming—was undeniably Alpha-coded as well. But Wei Jiang now carried that same signature, strong enough that Yao Ziyang instinctively leaned toward him, yearning for another taste of that comforting scent.
He immediately buried this reaction deep inside himself, unwilling to let either man see or understand his thoughts just yet. Instead, he nuzzled his cheek affectionately against Dong Yingming's warm, caramel skin, eyes closed gently, letting the man's steady heartbeat anchor him.
Dong Yingming stroked Yao Ziyang's hair gently, a smug smirk curving his lips. He eyed Wei Jiang with arrogant victory—utterly oblivious to the silent, invisible war brewing beneath the surface.
And Wei Jiang stared back, jealousy simmering, quietly promising himself that no matter how securely Dong Yingming held Yao Ziyang now, one day, he would be the one to hold him instead.
One day, he would win.
As Dong Yingming held Yao Ziyang against his chest, savoring the feel of his man safe and warm in his arms again, he suddenly felt the subtle shift of slender fingers loosening their grip on his shirt. Yao Ziyang slowly released his hold on Dong Yingming, leaning back just slightly with eyes wide and shimmering with excitement. He stepped back a little, tilting his chin up with wide gleaming eyes that sparkled like starlight, craning his delicate neck, and shifting to the side to peek at the velvet-wrapped gift still held protectively in Dong's large hand. His long lashes fluttered as he asked with unhidden excitement.
"Soooo… what did you bring me?"
Yao Ziyang whispered, voice breathless with anticipation. His dark eyes sparkled mischievously, clearly imagining something naughty—perhaps some tantalizing lingerie, or sensual toys, or maybe even something far more daring. His cheeks flushed lightly, making his porcelain skin glow with a faint rosy hue.
Dong Yingming's heart lurched in his chest. To see the boy so happy, so expectant—like he'd offered him the stars themselves—was intoxicating.
Then, Yao Ziyang's voice turned soft, a little teasing, laced with expectation and… something else—something sultry. His gaze dropped fleetingly to the velvet-wrapped package Dong Yingming still held in his other hand, then flicked back up with a knowing glint.
"Is it lingerie? Something for… tonight? Maybe some silk restraints? Or—oh! Is it something that vibrates?"
Dong Yingming's mouth twitched.
His entire chest swelled with adoration at how completely, blindingly radiant Yao Ziyang looked right now. His expression was so pure and excited, like a child about to open their birthday present—except that this wasn't a child and also might be expecting a dildo with multiple settings.
The boss gave a low, pleased chuckle, his heart softening at the adorable sight of the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on, practically vibrating with curiosity and barely contained desire.
But he wasn't about to present this precious offering with an unwanted audience.
Dong Yingming shifted his gaze pointedly toward Wei Jiang, his lips curling into a smug, arrogant smile.
"I want to give my man his gift privately…"
He said, voice smooth yet commanding.
"If you understand."
With a lazy glance, Dong Yingming cast a smug look past Yao Ziyang, locking eyes with Wei Jiang again, who was still sitting there frozen like a soldier at attention. His expression was unreadable to the untrained eye, but Dong Yingming could see the anger coiling under his skin, taut as a piano wire ready to snap.
Dong Yingming turned slightly, just enough to let the velvet-wrapped box glint under the room's dim light, and murmured with satisfaction.
"I want us to be alone when I give you your gift."
The implication hung thick in the air. Dominant. Final.
Yao Ziyang followed his gaze and turned toward Wei Jiang, offering him a small, apologetic smile. His soft black eyes, rimmed faintly in green, met Wei Jiang's in a silent, gentle dismissal. He didn't want to be rude, but the message was clear:
"You can go now."
Wei Jiang's jaw ticked. His fingers flexed at his sides.
He could barely contain himself. Rage crawled under his skin. Not at Yao Ziyang—but at Dong Yingming.
'How dare he?'
'How dare he act like Ziyang was some property, some concubine to be tucked away and given gifts, when he'd abandoned him again and again—left him cold, sick, confused—while it was me who stood watch over him? Who hacked cameras, faked feeds, made sure he was fed and protected? Who got beaten for stepping too close?'
Wei Jiang's jaw tightened visibly. His knuckles turned white at his sides, fists clenched hard enough to strain the bandages wrapped around his injured arm. The fury behind his calm facade blazed hotter than any fire he'd known, but Wei Jiang forced it back down, bitterly swallowing his rage.
None of that mattered now.
Because Dong Yingming was back. And Yao Ziyang had thrown himself into his arms the moment he returned.
Because the sweet boy had already turned those beautiful eyes to him, smiling apologetically—silently asking him to leave, without actually saying it aloud. Yao Ziyang's gaze was gentle, full of quiet fondness and guilt for dismissing a friend.
Wei Jiang's fury burned. His heart twisted painfully, but he masked it quickly with a dutiful bow, his face low in obedience.
"I understand…"
He said quietly, voice perfectly measured. He stood up, head still lowered, his tone still respectful, though every word felt like chewing gravel.
"Forgive me, Ziyang, for overstaying..."
He said, voice soft and controlled despite the volcanic anger brewing within.
"I didn't bring a gift tonight… I didn't realize you would be returning today, or I would have brought you something myself. Please, accept my apology. I'll make sure I have something suitable…"
He glanced up, meeting Yao Ziyang's gaze once more. There was longing there. Something unspoken.
"…Please wait for me tomorrow. I'll bring you something beautiful."
Yao Ziyang, still glowing from the joy of being by Dong Yingming's side, gave him a soft smile.
"That's sweet of you. You don't have to trouble yourself so much, Brother Wei..."
The Omega's smile softened further. He offered Wei Jiang a small nod of gratitude, eyes tender.
"But thank you. I'll look forward to it. Sleep well, Wei Jiang, okay?"
Those words—his name, in that voice—stabbed Wei Jiang in the heart.
"You as well… Yao Ziyang."
Wei Jiang finally murmured, his voice almost unbearably gentle, filled with unspoken affection.
He bowed once more, almost mechanically, and forced himself to turn. Wei Jiang lingered when he got to the door for a brief moment, reluctant—aching. He had half a mind to refuse to leave, to fight this arrogant man who treated Yao Ziyang like a prize. But he knew the battle was already lost today.
He turned slowly, eyes flickering only briefly to his boss. The moment their gazes met, a silent promise of rivalry sparked dangerously between them.
Dong Yingming just stared back coldly, unimpressed, his presence radiating dominance. Without a single word, Wei Jiang stalked out of the room, head lowered, footsteps heavy and depressed as he vanished down the corridor. Each one dragged like he was walking through sand, his chest hollow, aching.
Once Wei Jiang was gone, Dong Yingming, with his jaw tight and his lips curved in a sneer of victory, kicked the door shut with a bang loud enough to shake the hinges. Then let out an impatient huff, turning sharply away from the door—like he'd just expelled some particularly irritating pest.
To him, it was the same as crushing a rival under his boot heel.
For him, that was exactly what Wei Jiang was now.
Wei Jiang didn't even hear the door slam behind him—but it did.
He shifted his focus to Yao Ziyang, the arrogance in his features quickly melting into warmth as he saw his lover again and softening immediately when his eyes met Yao Ziyang's once more.
The Omega had practically beamed with excitement, still standing in those dangerously short shorts and that snug tank top, looking up at him expectantly with sparkling eyes. Yao Ziyang, oblivious to their hidden battle and tense rivalry, bounced slightly on his toes, barely containing his eagerness. His bright eyes fixated hungrily on the gift still cradled in Dong Yingming's hand.
Dong Yingming took a slow breath. The scent of Yao Ziyang's sweetness was still thick in the air, and now the room was theirs again.
Just theirs.
Dong Yingming's eyes dipped, drinking in the sight of his man:
The slight blush on his cheeks, the glow of excitement, the soft sway of his hips. He felt something primal flicker low in his gut—but he bit it down.
"Now then…"
Dong Yingming smiled, voice low and fond, stepping closer.
"Let's get back to the important things. Your present."
The Omega's eyes glowed with pure joy. He reached out eagerly, fingers brushing gently against Dong Yingming's wrist, his soft touch sending a rush of heat through Dong Yingming's chest.
Yao Ziyang stepped closer, brushing his fingers along the box.
"So? Can I open it now? Is it silk? Is it edible? Is it—?"
Dong Yingming silenced him with a warm look, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he gently guided him back toward the bed. He chuckled softly, shaking his head affectionately.
"So impatient. All in good time."
He murmured. And Yao Ziyang pouted beautifully, eyes wide with innocence and barely-restrained excitement. But only for a second. Because the promise in Dong Yingming's voice made his heart race.
Tonight was going to be unforgettable.
"I've waited long enough, haven't I? Won't you show me what you've brought me, darling?"
Dong Yingming smiled indulgently, carefully lifting the velvet-wrapped box and placing it gently into the Omega's delicate hands. He let the heavy velvet box rest in his palm for a moment longer, watching Yao Ziyang's eager face with a quiet, unreadable expression.