12: Sheng Shaoyou Teaches This Inexperienced Omega What a Real Kiss Feels Like
Even the driver didn’t know what was going on, and frankly, neither did Sheng Shaoyou himself.
Heat rushed to his head as he sprinted all the way to the apartment complex, only to realize—he didn’t even have the access card for the building.
Luckily, the concierge on duty recognized him and quickly swiped him in. The Beta concierge stifled his surprise and greeted him politely, “Good evening, Mr. Sheng.”
Still catching his breath, Sheng Shaoyou nodded at him and asked, “Has the gentleman staying in my apartment come back yet?”
“Ah?” The concierge thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean Mr. Hua, right? Yes, he’s back.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone,” the concierge said. “Someone drove him back, but the car has already left. He went upstairs by himself.”
So, Hua Yong did come home. He didn’t stay out all night.
Even if Shen Wenlang had brought him to a private party, in the end, that little orchid still returned to Sheng Shaoyou’s turf.
His heart, which had been thudding from the run, finally calmed down a little.
Now that the heat of the moment had passed, Sheng Shaoyou started to feel a tinge of embarrassment. Had he completely lost his mind? Just because he was worried about an Omega who hadn’t even had his first kiss, he’d run through the freezing cold night like a lunatic in nothing but his dress shirt.
Had he eaten too many cookies? Read too many childish notes? Was he seriously regressing to elementary school behavior?
The concierge noticed the flickering expressions on his face and offered, “It looked like Mr. Hua had a bit to drink tonight. He might not be able to open the door. Would you like me to swipe the elevator for you?”
“No need,” Sheng Shaoyou replied. “You go back to work. Thanks.”
He turned around, wanting to leave the lobby that had just witnessed his utter stupidity. But right then, his phone buzzed—it was a call from Hua Yong.
“Mr. Sheng.” His voice came through the line clear as day, not slurred in the slightest. From the sound of it, he wasn’t drunk at all—just a little airy, his tone ethereal. “Did you call me earlier? My phone was on silent. I just saw the missed call. Is something wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sheng Shaoyou said. He pressed the down button for the elevator, intending to tell the driver to pick him up from the underground parking lot.
He heard a splash of water stop abruptly on the other end. Sheng Shaoyou imagined Hua Yong had just finished his shower, maybe towel-dried his hair, and was now sitting on the bed in his room with his head lowered, talking softly on the phone. His brain, which had just cooled down, started to heat up again. But he said nothing, waiting silently for the elevator.
“Mr. Sheng?” That soft, orchid-scented Omega called out to him again.
“What is it?”
“What flavor of cookie would you like next Monday?” he asked.
Sheng Shaoyou didn’t want any cookies. But even more than that, he didn’t want Hua Yong to know he didn’t like them. He was afraid this sensitive little orchid would stop baking them altogether if he found out.
Irritated, Sheng Shaoyou raked a hand through his hair, still unsure of his answer when the elevator arrived.
“Mr. Sheng?” Hua Yong asked again, gently. “Have you decided on a flavor—” Then, inexplicably, he gave a short laugh and said in that soft tone of his, “Or… are you free this weekend? Do you want to bake them with me?”
…
In the lobby, the concierge watched as the elevator, which had gone down to B1, suddenly shot back up and stopped at the ground floor with a cheerful ding.
To his surprise, Sheng Shaoyou stepped out again. Still on the phone, he made a gesture for the concierge to swipe his access card. The building was strict about security—no card, no elevator access. The concierge hurried to comply.
The elevator doors slid shut and rose straight to the top floor.
On the other end of the call, Hua Yong, still unaware, gave another short laugh. “I was just joking. Mr. Sheng is so busy—there’s no way you’d have time to bake cookies. I’m sure you’ll—”
“Open the door.”
“…What?”
“I said, open the door.”
There were hurried footsteps. Then the door swished open—and standing there in a bathrobe, hair damp, cheeks flushed with wine, was the little orchid himself.
His robe hung loosely, exposing a pale, almost translucent chest. The scent of wine lingered faintly on his skin after the shower, making Sheng Shaoyou feel a little drunk just standing near him. His heart pounded like crazy.
But he kept his expression neutral, hung up the call, and leaned against the doorframe. “You’re giving me cookies and making me bake them too? Secretary Hua, are you sure you’re sincere?”
“I am,” Hua Yong replied with another smile, his crimson lips parting to reveal pearly white teeth. “For Mr. Sheng, I’m always sincere.”
Sheng Shaoyou stepped closer. Hua Yong lowered his gaze, shying away from the intensity of that ambiguous look in his eyes. His long lashes trembled like butterfly wings, casting soft shadows on his cheeks that tickled something deep in Sheng Shaoyou’s chest.
“Really? Funny, I didn’t know that.” Sheng Shaoyou didn’t smile. His features were sharp, with a high brow ridge that made his resting face seem stern and intimidating. He stared at Hua Yong’s dewy face and asked in a low voice, “So where’s the sincerity? Show me. Hmm?”
At that, Hua Yong lifted his gaze. The steam still lingering in the air gave his eyes a watery glint. Maybe it was the lighting, but his expression had a rare sharpness to it, almost aggressive. Sheng Shaoyou’s brow furrowed slightly, heart quickening—but before he could think more, the orchid stepped forward.
He leaned in and gently brushed his warm, wine-sweet lips against the corner of Sheng Shaoyou’s mouth.
It lasted only a few seconds. So fast, there wasn’t even time to blink.
Before Sheng Shaoyou could react, the soft petal-like lips had already pulled away. Standing just within arm’s reach, Hua Yong bit his lip, smiling as he asked, “Was that sincere enough?”
“No.” Sheng Shaoyou said that, but his hand was already tracing up the Omega’s spine to cup the back of his neck, gently but firmly pulling him in.
Their lips met fully. Sheng Shaoyou taught this inexperienced, untouched Omega what a real kiss felt like.
When they finally parted, Hua Yong’s lips were reddened and swollen from the kiss, slightly parted and glistening. His gaze was full of reliance and tenderness.
They were about the same height, but whenever Hua Yong looked at him, it always gave Sheng Shaoyou the illusion that this beautiful orchid was looking up to him.
That gaze filled the young S-class Alpha with a strange sense of conquest. His blood surged—he wanted to pluck this orchid, break its stem, and lock it up in a vase at home. It could be shown off occasionally, but never again left out for others to see or smell.
That night, Sheng Shaoyou stayed over at the apartment with Hua Yong.
But aside from two kisses and a whispered goodnight, nothing else happened.
Sheng Shaoyou seriously wondered if something was wrong with him. Before meeting Hua Yong, he’d never imagined himself in such a pure, almost romantic relationship.
The next morning, Hua Yong had been up for a while. He was cleaning the kitchen, and a fresh breakfast was already laid out on the table.
Sheng Shaoyou preferred Western breakfasts, but Hua Yong had made soy milk, a basket of soup dumplings, barbecued pork puffs, crystal shrimp dumplings, and a side of fruit.
“I didn’t know what Mr. Sheng likes, so I just made a little of everything.” He smiled as he handed over a pair of chopsticks. “Did you sleep well last night, Mr. Sheng?”
Sheng Shaoyou took the chopsticks without answering.
“I didn’t sleep too well,” Hua Yong continued softly.
“Oh? Why not?”
That orchid, dazzling even in home clothes, peeked up at him and said earnestly, cheeks pink, “Because my heart was beating too fast.”
Sheng Shaoyou smiled. His deep-set features looked cold when emotionless, but when he smiled, it melted the ice—though not quite tenderly. “Really?”
“Mm.” Hua Yong said softly, “I don’t think my heart has ever beaten this fast before.”
Sheng Shaoyou’s gaze softened even further. “Then what are you going to do about it?”
“About the future?” Hua Yong tilted his head, childlike. “What if dating you gives me heart disease, Mr. Sheng?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“It’s true.” He placed a hand over his heart, genuinely worried. “It’s still pounding. I can’t even breathe.”
Worried he might be oxygen-deprived, Sheng Shaoyou leaned in before breakfast and kindly “shared some air” with him again.
That day, Sheng Shaoyou decided that maybe Chinese breakfast wasn’t so bad after all. He could really get used to drinking soy milk and eating shrimp dumplings with Hua Yong.
After breakfast, Hua Yong went to clean up the dishes while Sheng Shaoyou headed into the study for a video meeting. By the time he finished, it was nearly eleven.
He set down the tablet and decided to see what that orchid was doing.
Even though Hua Yong talked a lot in his WeChat Moments and loved scribbling on his cookie notes, he was surprisingly quiet in person. Unlike Sheng Shaoyou’s past lovers who clamored for attention, Hua Yong always waited quietly, like he was waiting for Sheng Shaoyou to make the first move.
That drunken kiss yesterday was probably the boldest thing he’d ever done.
Sheng Shaoyou found him in the living room, reading intently on the couch.
Curious, he moved closer—and realized the book was about massage and acupressure.
His face instantly darkened. “What, are you planning to moonlight at a massage parlor?”
His sudden voice startled Hua Yong. The book slipped from his lap and hit the floor. “No,” he said, bending to pick it up and setting it aside. “My sister’s been bedridden for too long. If the surgery goes well, she might be able to stand. The doctor said regular massage could really help her recovery.”
“Did you learn anything yet?”
“No,” Hua Yong replied. “It’s kind of hard. And I don’t have anyone to practice on.”
That evening, Sheng Shaoyou canceled his dinner plans and volunteered to be Professor Hua’s first massage test subject.
It was Hua Yong’s first time touching a real person. He looked nervous and awkward.
“Mr. Sheng, maybe we should just forget it.”
“Why?”
“I’m worried I’ll do it wrong.”
“How would you get better without practice?” Sheng Shaoyou lay face-down on the massage table, shirtless. “Don’t worry, you’re not strong enough to hurt me. Just go ahead.”
Hua Yong didn’t say another word. He warmed the massage oil between his palms and gently placed them on Sheng Shaoyou’s bare back.
The heating and air conditioning had already been turned up. The massage oil carried the warmth of Hua Yong’s touch, but Sheng Shaoyou still shivered the moment it made contact.
“Was that too hard?” Hua Yong asked, worried.
“No,” Sheng Shaoyou replied hoarsely. “Keep going.”
And so Hua Yong did his best to follow the instructions in the book. The more he pressed, the more tense the muscles under his fingers became. He started to panic and asked, “Is it uncomfortable?”
It was uncomfortable—but not for the reason he thought. Sheng Shaoyou’s breathing grew heavier. He felt like he was torturing himself.
Hua Yong was focused. He cross-checked every pressure point, nerve, and joint, using the diagrams from the book. His fingers weren’t particularly skillful, but they were smooth and soft, and surprisingly strong.
The human body is a finely tuned machine. No matter the gender, age, or shape, it contains 206 bones and 650 acupoints.
The book covered methods from The Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon. Hua Yong had read the entire thing, but still couldn’t quite get it right.
Still, he had always been patient. And when he wanted something, he was never in a rush. He believed that with enough time and effort, he’d find exactly what he was looking for.