The air in the Imperial Scent Chamber- a small, windowless, structure attached to the side of the Emperor's private study—was thick and heavy, saturated with the faint, metallic musk of the incense burner and the overwhelming, primal aura of power.
You Shu Lang stood perfectly still, his hands clasped within the loose, luxurious silk of his newly issued Omega robes. He despised the robes; they were designed to highlight the curve of his throat and the delicacy of his wrists, mandatory attire for an Imperial Mate, or in his case, a glorified prisoner.
He had chewed through three high-grade Beta suppressants that morning, a risk that left him dizzy and cold, but necessary. He could not, would not, yield to the Emperor's raw Alpha strength.
Fan Xiao was seated behind a low, lacquered table. He hadn't moved since Shu Lang entered. The Emperor's face was a mask of cold porcelain, his dark eyes like polished obsidian, studying Shu Lang with an intensity that felt less like appraisal and more like a predator mapping out a cage.
"Step forward, Scholar You." Fan Xiao's voice was low, devoid of warmth, but carried the deep, resonant tone of an absolute Alpha, making the air around Shu Lang.
Shu Lang obeyed, taking three slow, deliberate steps until he stood close enough for their scents to mingle—or, rather, for the Emperor's to violently suppress his own.
Fan Xiao's scent was notorious. It wasn't the rich cedar or warm amber of other High Alphas. It was a terrifying fusion of frost and iron, the scent of a winter battlefield. It clamped down on Shu Lang's chest, demanding immediate submission. Shu Lang grit his teeth, forcing himself to breathe shallowly, maintaining a rigid posture.
"You know the decree," Fan Xiao finally said, lifting a hand to tap the edge of his jade seal. "You are the Imperial Scent Master. Your purpose is to stabilize my aura. You will present your scent as requested."
Shu Lang bowed his head. "This servant understands the decree, Your Majesty."
"Then why," Fan Xiao leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing, "can I only detect the bitter tang of chemical suppressants? Where is the Scent of Jade I was promised? Are you challenging my authority on our first night?"
The question wasn't a rebuke; it was a threat.
Shu Lang kept his voice steady, his scholarly training overriding his terrified Omega instincts. "Your Majesty, the transition from commoner life to the Inner Court is controversy. I am simply... adjusting. My scent is recessive and requires time and safety to express itself."
Fan Xiao let out a humorless puff of air. He rose, his tall, imposing frame dwarfing the scholar, and walked slowly around the table. The frost-and-iron scent intensified, making Shu Lang's knees tremble.
He stopped directly behind Shu Lang.
"Adjustment," the Emperor murmured, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of Shu Lang's nape. "Let me assist you in this adjustment."
A large, cold hand—the same hand that wielded the Imperial Sword—reached out and caught the silk collar of Shu Lang's robe. Before Shu Lang could react, Fan Xiao yanked the collar aside, exposing the pale, slender curve of the scholar's scent gland, the most vulnerable point of an Omega's body.
Shu Lang gasped, a small, involuntary sound of fear. His meticulously maintained composure finally cracked. A single, panicked spike of his hidden Omega pheromones—a brief, sweet whisper of cool, clean jade tea—escaped his control.
Fan Xiao stilled. He inhaled deeply, a long, consuming draw of air.
The Emperor's eyes fluttered shut for a second. When they opened, the cold iron in his gaze had momentarily softened, replaced by a dark, burning hunger.
"There you are," Fan Xiao breathed, the words heavy and possessive. He brought his powerful face closer, hovering just above Shu Lang's exposed gland. "It is magnificent. The elders were right to value it."
Shu Lang's mind screamed at him to run, to fight, but his body was betraying him. The proximity of the Emperor's Alpha heat, combined with the forced scent release, was overwhelming the suppressants. A dizzying wave of weakness washed over him.
"This is not enough, Scholar You," Fan Xiao whispered, his lips grazing the skin. "I need proof of your loyalty, and your obedience. I need your calm scent to shield the Empire. I will not wait for you to 'adjust'."
He lifted his hand, not to strike, but to lightly touch the spot where an Alpha would seal a Mating Bond.
"If your scent does not flow freely for me by the time the moon sets tomorrow," Fan Xiao stated, his voice returning to its ruthless command, "I will ensure it does. And the process will not be gentle."
He released Shu Lang, pushing him slightly forward. "You are dismissed. Guard the secret of your jade scent with your life, Scholar. It is the only thing that keeps you breathing in my court."
Shu Lang stumbled out of the chamber, his mind reeling. The scent of frost and iron felt branded onto his clothes, and the horrifying truth settled over him: the Emperor did not want a consort; he wanted a weapon, a shield.
And You Shu Lang had just discovered his worst fear: Fan Xiao was fully capable of unlocking the hidden Omega inside him, whether he consented or not.
You Shu Lang knew he had to move quickly. The Emperor's decree for the next night was not a suggestion; it was a deadline. If he failed to produce the "Scent of Jade," Fan Xiao would likely resort to forceful means that would compromise not only his mission but his very will.
He chose to leverage his new, even though terrifying, position.
The next morning, Shu Lang was granted permission to visit the Imperial Library, a privilege extended to him due to his scholarly title. His true goal, however, was a small, dusty teahouse just outside the outer palace walls—a teahouse whose elderly, blind owner was a crucial contact in the resistance network, known only by the codename, The Weaver.
Shu Lang could not leave the palace, but he had a method.
The Scroll: He requested a specific, centuries-old botanical scroll from the archives—The Treatise on the Cultivation of Rare Jade Blossom. He spent an hour ostensibly examining it, all the while carefully tearing a hairline-thin strip from the scroll's backing, twisting it into a tiny paper wick.
The Code: Using a hidden compartment in his thumb ring, he accessed a drop of concentrated squid ink, the same ink the resistance used for invisible writing. He quickly penned a single, coded message onto the paper wick:
Jade trapped by Iron. Need antidote and route out. Urgent. Tomorrow's sunset.
The Delivery: The most nerve-wracking part. He wrapped the wick around a rare, fragrant tea leaf and tucked it into a small, sealed vial containing an Imperial-grade health tonic. He then entrusted the tonic vial to a young Beta palace servant known to run errands outside the walls.
"This is an urgent delivery for the Elder Minister's ailing mother," Shu Lang instructed the servant, his voice calm and authoritative. "Ensure it reaches the blind woman who owns the 'Serene Waters' Teahouse, and no one else. The tonic is delicate."
Shu Lang spent the rest of the day in a state of tense anticipation. He knew the risks. If the Emperor's guards intercepted the package, or if the servant was questioned, his life and the entire resistance cell would be forfeit.
That evening, a Beta guard escorted him to his chambers. On his desk, nestled beneath a stack of blank parchment, was a small, crudely carved wooden box—an item that had certainly not been there when he left.
His heart pounded against his ribs. The Weaver had received the message.
He dismissed the guard and carefully opened the box. Inside, there was no vial or note. Instead, there was:
A small, polished, dark green stone.
A dried, dull-brown root, unlike any he had ever seen.
A tiny, rolled-up silk map, no bigger than his thumbnail.
He picked up the root first. It was brittle and smelled faintly of earth and ash. This was the Antidote. The resistance, knowing his Omega status was his greatest weakness and his scent his greatest weapon, must have known he needed a way to control it. He pocketed the root for later examination.
He unrolled the map next. It was a precise, detailed sketch of the Imperial Drains—the only hidden route leading directly beneath the Outer Palace walls to the city beyond. The escape route was clear.
Finally, he picked up the dark green stone. As he held it, a faint, calming scent drifted from the stone, mixing with his own. It was a synthesized, powerful Scent Blocker —designed to be potent enough to completely mask the Scent of Jade, even from a High Alpha like Fan Xiao.
He now had the means of escape and survival, but the map pointed to a tunnel entrance that was only accessible during the changing of the night watches, which was exactly three hours from now.
He realized with a sickening lurch: if he took the blocker and masked his scent, he would fail the Emperor's test. Fan Xiao would know he was defying him, and the consequences would be immediate and fatal.
If he didn't take the blocker, he would have to face the Emperor unprotected in the Scent Chamber, and the risk of being truly bonded and trapped forever was absolute.
He stood in his chambers, holding the scent blocker stone and the dried root.