50: He Really Couldn’t “Take” Any More
The door slammed shut.
As soon as Cai Hong left, Hua Yong dropped the stubborn act.
He let go of Sheng Shaoyou’s wrist and softly asked,
“Mr. Sheng, would you prefer Chinese or Western snacks?”
He was used to deflecting, but this time it wasn’t going to fly.
Sheng’s brows furrowed deeply.
“What’s going on with you? Who was that? Your brother? A doctor?”
His sharp gaze swept over the bandage on Hua’s arm. He grabbed the arm Hua was trying to hide.
“What’s this?”
Hua struggled a little but didn’t manage to free himself. Instead, he pouted and complained like he was sulking:
“Mr. Sheng, you’re hurting me…”
Sheng gritted his teeth but couldn’t really bring himself to be harsher. He loosened his grip slightly.
“Hua Yong. Tell me the truth. Didn’t you say you’d never lie to me again?”
“I haven’t lied to you.”
Hua’s voice was earnest.
“Don’t be mad, Mr. Sheng. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
Sheng stared him down.
“Why did you take leave?”
Hua looked at him, then smiled faintly, warm and harmless as always, and deflected:
“That Dr. Cai is a few years older than me. We’re half‑brothers. My mother passed away early and entrusted me to him, so he always acts like a big brother, lecturing me.”
He leaned into Sheng’s chest, pitifully complaining:
“Mr. Sheng, he’s so mean to me…”
You’re much meaner than he is, Sheng thought bitterly.
Hua’s explanation was clearly meant to divert attention.
But Sheng wasn’t buying it.
He immediately latched onto the key point:
“You said… he’s a doctor?”
“Mm.”
Hua replied flatly:
“Apparently he’s pretty well‑known in the field. But with that temper, even good people would be scared sick. No wonder he’s so old and still single — who’d want him?”
“Why did he come here?”
At this, Hua became more guarded, his eyes lowered obediently, lips clammed up, and he answered vaguely:
“To check on me.”
“Oh yeah?”
Sheng found some amusement in prying. He stroked Hua’s wrist and pressed:
“What did he find?”
Hua looked up, met those dark eyes, and his cheeks flushed faintly.
“Nothing serious.”
Sheng leaned in and sniffed.
The crisp orchid scent was gone, replaced by a faint, quiet floral fragrance — Omega.
Hua moved closer, kissed his chin, and whispered by his ear:
“Western sandwiches, Chinese sweet dumplings… or… me. Which would you like first, Mr. Sheng?”
Sheng didn’t want any of them. He gripped that stubborn chin hard.
“Do you think it’s fun to mess with me?”
“No.”
Though his grip was strong, Hua didn’t even pretend to cry out this time. His eyes were like deep, endless ocean trenches.
“I like you, Mr. Sheng. I hope you’ll like me too.”
“So if you change your scent, I’ll like you?”
Hua raised a brow but didn’t speak. But his gaze clearly said: Didn’t you like it before?
Sheng’s fingers tingled with rage; his blood pressure spiked.
Now he understood why Cai Hong said being around Hua would have him on hypertension meds early.
“Hua Yong. If you pull this kind of stunt again, forget liking — I won’t even see you anymore. Got it?”
Hua looked confused.
“Why? Didn’t you say you liked Omega scents? So I changed. What’s wrong with that?”
What’s wrong?
He still dared to ask what’s wrong?
Sheng let go of his chin and sneered.
“Yeah, nothing wrong. Once you’re dead, no one will bother me anymore. Keep using that damn modifier — I’m done here.”
“Wait.”
Hua grabbed his sleeve desperately but was thrown off.
“If you want to die, go ahead. I’m not playing anymore.”
Then, a warm body pressed against his back, long arms wrapping tightly around his waist, orchid‑scented warmth flooding over him, making it impossible to take a single step away.
“Mr. Sheng…”
Hua hugged him from behind, soft and contrite:
“I was wrong. I’ll stop. Don’t be mad, and don’t go.”
“Wrong about what?”
Hua couldn’t think of anything and didn’t dare lie, so he said honestly:
“I shouldn’t have made you angry.”
Sheng suddenly turned around and scolded him:
“You shouldn’t have played games with your health.”
Hua froze, then muttered reflexively:
“It won’t kill me.”
Oh, so just because it won’t kill you, you can do whatever you want?
Sheng sneered coldly:
“Looking for pain? Why don’t you just take off your pants and let me have some fun?”
Chang Yu, standing off to the side, froze like a block of wood, hardly daring to breathe.
These words he really couldn’t listen to — but didn’t know if he should cover his ears either.
Sure enough, Hua shot him a sharp glare.
Chang Yu fidgeted and wisely said:
“There’s something at the office. I’ll leave now — call me if you need anything.”
The famously unflappable secretary practically bolted from the room.
Now it was just the two of them again.
Hua tugged at Sheng’s tie, and when he saw Sheng’s adam’s apple bob twice, he couldn’t help but lean forward and lick it — more of a suck, really — and the sensitive cartilage was completely enveloped in heat, making Sheng’s heart stutter, then race like a drum.
It was like being struck by a powerful current, Hua’s breath hot against his neck, his arms clutching him tight, the heat of his body and scent sending molten blood surging through Sheng.
By the time he came to his senses, they’d already shared a long, wet kiss.
Sheng stared into Hua’s pale face, seeing such heavy infatuation in his eyes that his chest tightened involuntarily.
His fingers brushed across those wet, soft lips, gently rubbing.
“Don’t do this again.”
“But the scent—”
“Doesn’t matter. Your real scent isn’t that bad either.”
“Really?”
Hua’s serious, solemn expression made it clear that Sheng’s answer was the most important thing in the world to him.
“Really,” Sheng sighed helplessly — only for the words to be swallowed up again.
In the end, they didn’t go all the way.
With Sheng’s sensitivity phase approaching, the Omega‑scented pheromones were too much, but faced with that pale face, he just couldn’t do it.
His heart went soft. Even when kissing, he didn’t dare use much force, let alone take advantage.
On the dining table, neither the Chinese nor the Western snacks were touched — just dealing with Hua was exhausting enough.
He really couldn’t eat anything.
In the end, flustered, he pushed Hua away.
“Stop — stop!”
Hua backed off a little, licked his lips, and murmured:
“Mr. Sheng, you’re so sweet.”
Sweet, my ass.
Sheng shoved his shoulder.
“Button up.”
In his field of vision, Hua’s open shirt revealed a beautiful collarbone and a pale, gleaming chest that made it hard to look away.
This man was terrifying — he fit all of Sheng’s preferences perfectly.
But it was just bait.
Like a worm on a hook, luring Sheng to bite — but in the end, it was always Sheng himself who got devoured.
Yet it was the sweetest trap in the world.
Even knowing this little lunatic was a cunning liar, the way he lied was so tailored to Sheng’s tastes that he couldn’t resist falling for it.
Under Sheng’s watchful eye, Hua rested at home for two days.
When he returned to work, Chen Pinming’s attitude toward him had changed.
No longer merely formal, his tone now carried a faint, matchmaking warmth.
That morning, Sheng needed a document. Chen personally handed the neatly printed file to Hua:
“Mr. Sheng needs this this afternoon. Please deliver it yourself. At this hour, he’s probably on his lunch break.”
Hua gave him a faint smile.
“I didn’t expect Secretary Chen to help me.”
Chen shook his head.
“Not really helping. But since the young master actually likes someone for once, if you’re sincere, I hope you can give him a home.”
“I will,” Hua replied, taking the papers.
“Whatever Mr. Sheng wants, I’ll give him.”
“Don’t lie to him again,” Chen added.
“He hates being lied to. You’re the first one who’s gotten away with it this long.”
Hua chuckled.
“Oh? Mr. Sheng likes me that much?”
Chen nodded.
“It’s obvious to everyone. But if you lie again, he’ll hate you.”
Seeing Hua’s calm expression, Chen continued:
“Once, an Omega was twenty‑five minutes late to a date and lied that they’d been in a car accident. Mr. Sheng found out and had me send them away immediately. Want more examples?”
“No need,” Hua smiled faintly.
“I won’t lie to him again.”
There was no need anymore.
What he’d chased for fifteen years was finally within reach.
— —
Sheng had always kept a habit of napping at noon — a half‑hour doze to recharge and stay efficient through the afternoon.
But today, his nap lasted over an hour.
The high‑concentration, highly compatible orchid pheromones let him sleep soundly and dream well.
When he opened his eyes, Hua’s enlarged face filled his vision.
Sheng froze.
“Why are you here?”
Hua sat up first, hair messy, eyes shining with moisture.
“I came to deliver a file — and keep you company.”
Sheng: …
“The file goes on the desk,” he said, running a hand through his hair and getting out of bed.
“There are seventeen secretaries. If all of them climbed into my bed like you just to deliver a file, there wouldn’t even be room in here.”
“Mm.”
Hua’s eyes curved warmly.
“But with me here, none of them can even get in the door — much less into your bed.”
Sheng didn’t bother arguing and turned to get dressed.
When he was done, Hua had buttoned up his last button too.
That afternoon went smoothly. Near the end of the day, Chen came in to remind Sheng he should make time to visit the hospital.
“Your pheromone disorder needs a check‑up. And the targeted drug has worked well — the chairman’s condition has improved a lot, and the doctor says he may wake soon. If you have time…”
“Got it,” Sheng said, signing a document.
“I’ll go tomorrow morning, check on my dad while I’m at it. Check the schedule — if it’s packed, I can reschedule.”
Chen checked and said:
“Tomorrow morning is flexible. Afternoon’s open too. We can shift morning tasks if needed.”
Sheng nodded, but before he could speak, Hua suddenly asked:
“Mr. Sheng has pheromone disorder? That’s what the doctor said?”
“Yes. Moderate. He was supposed to follow up last month but didn’t have time.”
“Then I’ll go with him tomorrow,” Hua said.
“Even if I think it’s probably a misdiagnosis — this kind of treatment should involve the partner anyway.”
Lately Sheng’s symptoms had eased.
Amused by Hua and Chen discussing it so earnestly, Sheng couldn’t help but laugh.
“Partner? Since when? You’re awfully eager to claim the title.”
“Mm.”
Hua looked over, deadly serious.
“Mr. Sheng is far too desirable. Finally an open seat at your side — of course I’m eager.”
His expression was so intense, like he truly cared about that “seat” and would kill anyone who tried to take it.
Chen, thoroughly fed up with the sweetness, quietly left — leaving space for the rare, earnest lovers: his boss and the future “boss’s wife.”