22: I warned you. He’s dangerous. Be careful.
3:00 PM, X Hotel, Room 9901.
The curtains were tightly drawn. A single floor lamp cast a dim yellow glow—the only source of light in the pitch-black room. The scent of orchids lingering in the air wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been when Shen Wenlang had visited days ago, but it was still so heavy it made it hard to breathe.
Chang Yu silently took out two specially designed isolation masks and generously handed one to Shen Wenlang, who had visible bruises on his cheek.
Suppressing his fury, Shen Wenlang coldly tore open the packaging. After putting on the mask, he reached out and kicked the ornately carved bench at the foot of the luxurious bed.
“He beat my men so badly their own mothers wouldn’t recognize them! And you still have the nerve to be here napping?!”
These two really were a pair—one beat him, and the other beat his men. Together, they were clearly in cahoots, working together to screw him over!
That thought only made him angrier. His voice rose: “It’s already three in the afternoon, the sun’s burning your ass!”
Chang Yu glanced at him disapprovingly, his expression wordless but clearly chiding: You’re poking the tiger again when I told you not to.
“Mm—” A figure stirred in the massive custom-made bed flown in from the Eastern Hemisphere. Wrapped in blankets, he slowly rose. He was tall but very slender. The blanket gently outlined his frame, and his exposed arm was exquisitely shaped but covered in dense bruises—disturbing even at a glance.
But Shen Wenlang clearly had no compassion for the one in bed. Seeing how sluggishly he moved, Shen impatiently kicked the bench again—though he only dared kick the bench, not the bed.
“So noisy,” came a lazy complaint. The man finally sat up, throwing off the covers in irritation. “Shen Wenlang, did the sky fall?”
Chang Yu glared at Shen again, his face practically saying, See? I warned you not to provoke him.
He turned back with a helpless expression. “No, the sky’s fine. It’s just that Wenlang got punched by Sheng Shaoyou a few days ago.”
The little tyrant in bed gave a low chuckle. “I told you. He’s dangerous. Be careful.” Then he asked, “Did you hit back?”
Shen Wenlang snapped, “What do you think? Was I supposed to just stand there and take it?”
“You touched him?”
“It was self-defense, okay?!”
“I don’t know what that is.” The little devil stretched his bruised arm and flipped on the light with a snap. His face was cold, not a trace of that earlier chuckle left. “Where did you hit him?”
“He tried to strangle me, so I kicked him in the gut.” Shen Wenlang scowled. “Just once!”
Barefoot, the young man stepped onto the soft carpet. His long, fair legs slipped out from under the loosely tied robe, and even his exposed thighs were mottled with blue and purple bruises.
He wore the robe wide open, revealing a pale, smooth chest—also covered in wounds too cruel to look at directly.
But he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Raising an elegant hand, he brushed his hair aside and turned to glance at Shen Wenlang’s right leg. That single cold glance sent shivers up Shen’s spine.
The orchid scent in the room seemed to intensify.
Even with the mask on, Shen Wenlang felt his neck gland start to throb painfully under the pressure.
“No next time,” the young man said coolly, as if he were granting royal mercy.
Shen Wenlang’s face darkened further.
Damn it. You think I wanted this? Sheng Shaoyou’s a lunatic dying to climb into your bed—not me! You think I was volunteering to be his punching bag?!
Next time? There won’t be a next time!
But the young man had given him nearly half of the seed funding for his start-up. Shen Wenlang couldn’t bring himself to act tough.
Fine. I’ll repay the favor. You lovesick little brat.
Steam practically rose from his head, but Shen finally remembered why he was here.
“Could you maybe go a little easier when you’re disciplining subordinates?” he asked dryly. “None of the guys who left your room can work now. The last eight are still in the ICU.”
He clicked his tongue. “Could you leave me some who don’t need to be hospitalized?”
“Losing a few idiots who dared get greedy with the drug trade won’t stop the earth from spinning.” The young man lounged against the headboard like an emperor. “Daring to use X Holdings’ name to get a piece of cake that isn’t theirs—that’s a crime. And you know exactly how that ends.”
“I worked my ass off to get this sinking ship ashore. If anyone dares dirty my deck again, I’ll kill them myself. Is that hard to understand?”
“Got it,” Shen Wenlang gritted out. “It won’t happen again. Next time someone slips up, I’ll be the first to take them out.”
The little tyrant smiled. “That’s more like it. I know you’re working hard too, Wenlang. And I’ve been pretty merciful—just a few lashes. Let them go with all limbs intact. What more do you want?”
Shen Wenlang barked a bitter laugh. “You call that a few lashes? Any more and they’d be dead!”
The youth’s soft lips curved into a slight smirk. “I didn’t even use strength. If they die from that, it’s their own weakness to blame.”
Shen Wenlang choked. How about blaming yourself for being a freakishly strong monster?!
Off to the side, Chang Yu looked worried. Shen’s expression was turning dark again—he didn’t want a brawl to break out with this still volatile youth.
He quickly smoothed things over. “The boss just finished his susceptibility period and still personally disciplined his unruly subordinates. They’re lucky. It shows how much he values X Holdings’ formalization and legitimacy—it’s inevitable.”
The young man dropped his lashes, hiding his eyes. “No drugs. That’s the bottom line. Keep your people in line. Don’t disappoint me again.”
“Yes.”
In recent years, this little tyrant’s susceptibility periods had grown longer—and scarier.
Across all of Jianghu, only this custom-built room could contain him.
Room 9901 had been fully customized during the hotel’s renovation just for the young master.
The doors and window frames were made of rare, ultra-durable metals. The windows were fullerene glass, harder than diamond. The entire room was lined with pheromone-isolation materials. Its cost was a thousand times that of the average room.
Yet even so, after just one month, the door and window frames were visibly warped.
If this had been a standard susceptibility period, that’d be one thing.
But it was a special case.
To make matters worse, prolonged proximity to a fated mate followed by abrupt separation had triggered severe separation anxiety and a string of courtship-related symptoms. A susceptibility period that should’ve lasted a week stretched far longer.
His out-of-control Enigma nearly killed himself—and everyone else.
Enduring it alone had left lasting damage. Even though his susceptibility period had ended nearly a week ago, he was still sickly. His legendary recovery speed had also taken a hit.
The injuries on his body were still visible.
And though only he could hurt himself—given his sheer strength—the wounds he inflicted were still horrifying.
The medical team that had rescued him had sweated bullets the whole time. Even knowing he had low pain sensitivity and remarkable healing, they couldn’t help but go gentle while treating him.
After careful care, the gashes on his wrists had scabbed over, but still looked gruesome.
Yet the refined, delicate-looking little psychopath seemed quite pleased with them. He held his arm up to admire it for a while, then sighed and asked, “How long do you think these’ll last?”
He rubbed the bruises on his chest and sighed. “They’re healing too fast. What if he doesn’t see them?”
Shen Wenlang ignored the question, stone-faced, and opened the project files to discuss business.
With something serious to focus on, the young master quieted down. He propped his chin on his hand, listening absentmindedly, yet still managed to pinpoint the key issues and call them out sharply at the end.
When they were finished, Shen Wenlang stood.
The youth, still in his robe, graciously got up and walked him to the door. Just before Shen left, he said lightly, “Mr. Sheng may be looking for you again soon. Take some time to rest up. Make yourself a little tougher.”
Tougher to withstand the next beating, huh? Shen Wenlang shot him a deadly glare, holding it in as long as he could before snapping, “Little psycho.”
The pale face broke into a smirk—pure, seductive, and sinful.
“See you next week, Mr. Shen.”
Ai Heng had been lying in the ventilation duct for nearly four hours before he finally saw the two high-level Alphas leave Room 9901 one after the other.
The orchid scent spilled out from the briefly opened door, so thick even a Beta like him could smell it.
Recalling the conversation between the two Omega cleaners in the linen room, even the iron-hearted Ai Heng felt a pang of pity.
Saving a life is better than building a seven-story pagoda, especially with a hundred million yuan and the heir of ShengFang Biotech’s gratitude on the line!
Let’s go!
Clenching his tools between his teeth, he began crawling toward the room like a silent python stalking prey.
It took him over thirty minutes to reach the ventilation opening. Peering through the narrow slits, he saw an Omega in a hotel robe standing by the floor-to-ceiling window.
The room was warmly lit, casting a soft glow on the slender back of the figure. Arms wrapped around himself, he stared out at the dazzling night cityscape, looking impossibly alone.
The grey bathrobe draped over sharp butterfly shoulder blades. They didn’t seem out of place—on the contrary, they had a cutting elegance, like wings eager to burst from a cocoon.
His pale neck peeked out from the robe, and the skin near his gland was covered in horrible wounds.
From his cramped, shadowy perch, Ai Heng couldn’t see clearly, but he was almost certain they were bite marks—left by aggressive Alphas.
Those dominant beasts, given access to such delicate, defenseless prey, would’ve torn into him without hesitation.
So pitiful. Ai Heng nearly wept at the thought of that one hundred million yuan.
Alright, pretty boy. Let this brave young man rescue you—for the money’s sake.
Ai Heng prided himself on his agility, thinking of himself as the world’s finest detective-slash-thief. He had cracked countless safes without leaving a trace, undetectable even by presidential-level security.
But this time, eager to cash in, he didn’t realize that the youth standing by the window had already noticed him long before he reached the vent.
Still, the youth didn’t turn around. His eyes drifted lazily outside—where a giant ShengFang Biotech billboard glowed in the night.
Another half hour passed before Ai Heng removed the vent cover and slipped silently into the room like a spider on a web.
The abused little Omega finally turned around sluggishly.
Ai Heng had expected his beauty, having heard it described by the cleaners, but seeing it in full still made him pause.
A one-second lapse was a massive failure for a detective on the job! Ai Heng cursed himself and quickly signaled the frightened Omega to stay quiet.
“Don’t be scared. Mr. Sheng sent me. He told me to bring you home.”
The Omega, with eyes full of the world’s sorrow and mist, looked at him with a face so pale it seemed carved from porcelain. When he heard his lover’s name, the emptiness in his gaze filled with longing.
Ai Heng’s hardened heart clenched hard.
Damn it! I should’ve given Sheng Shaoyou a discount!
“It’s Mr. Sheng?” Hua Yong asked softly. “He wants… to take me home?”
“Yes,” Ai Heng said quickly. “This isn’t a safe place to talk. Let’s go.”
Hua Yong took a few steps forward, then suddenly stopped. “But—” he bit his lip, his eyes dimming again, “how do I know you’re not lying?”
Tears shimmered in his glassy eyes, like he’d already suffered too much horror—horrors no Omega this delicate should have faced.
Ai Heng noticed the bruises on his neck and chest, and the fading yet horrifying marks along his arms.
This stunning Omega had clearly endured severe abuse—likely more than once.
His fear was not unfounded.
Ai Heng hesitated but then dialed Sheng Shaoyou’s number, hoping the man himself could reassure him.
The phone rang only once before connecting.
It was as if Sheng had been clutching the phone the whole time. The moment the line opened, his desperate voice came through: “Did you see him? How is he?”
“I did,” Ai Heng replied. “But he wants to confirm… that it’s really you who sent me.”
He handed the phone to the fragile Omega, watching him timidly raise it to his ear.
Sheng Shaoyou’s anxious voice rang out.
“Hua Yong.”
The familiar sound traveled gently through the receiver. Beneath those long lashes, the Omega’s divine, god-kissed eyes instantly filled with tears.
Ai Heng felt like he’d been electrocuted.
His heart clenched unbearably.
He prayed that from now on, no one would ever make this Omega cry like that again.