Extra: Peanut Couple’s Bits & Pieces 01 – Like a rose blooming amidst thorns — but, alas, not one he planted himself
18
/ Some fragments from the past ① /
Hua Yong wanted to kill someone.
Because right now, Sheng Shaoyou was swaying unsteadily in the entryway — not only drunk but reeking of Omega scent so strong it couldn’t be masked.
Rationally, he knew it was common enough for an Alpha to get drunk and have an Omega companion after a business dinner.
But emotionally — Hua Yong, who was trying to capture the Alpha he loved — simply couldn’t tolerate anyone brazenly approaching the treasure he’d coveted for so long.
His gaze slid down from Sheng Shaoyou’s disheveled hair to the faint red marks peeking from his slightly open collar — like a rose blooming among thorns, but one that wasn’t planted by him.
And that made him all the more aggrieved.
Hua Yong clenched his jaw, rage searing through him — but in order to maintain his delicate, weak image, he swallowed it down, simply fixing Sheng Shaoyou with a cold stare and remarking:
“Mr. Sheng, you smell disgusting.”
Truthfully, Sheng Shaoyou reeked of alcohol — but it wasn’t unpleasant. The heat of it brushed Hua Yong’s heightened Enigma senses, making his nerves tingle.
He stared at Sheng Shaoyou for a long while, finally unable to resist — leaning down to press his lips to the Alpha’s half-open mouth.
A cold, orchid scent instantly thickened in the air — enough to drive any Alpha or Omega into heat.
/ Some fragments from the past ② /
Everyone knew motorcycle racing suits were extremely form-fitting.
Made of ostrich leather and titanium alloy to protect the rider, they resisted wear and tearing and came equipped with CE-certified armor — like battle armor.
When Hua Yong stepped out of the locker room in his suit, he clearly saw Sheng Shaoyou’s expression falter.
Over the years, Hua Yong had learned his likes and dislikes inside out — from his hair color, to his clothes, to even his demeanor — all carefully tailored to Sheng Shaoyou’s tastes.
The stunned, admiring gazes of others? That was routine for him.
He ignored them all, helmet in hand, as if nothing happened. His whole life he’d been looked up to by countless others — he’d never spared them a glance.
Only when he turned to Sheng Shaoyou did he flash a bright smile and say softly:
“Mr. Sheng, I’m ready.”
/ Some fragments from the past ③ /
Sensitivity periods and mating syndrome — these had been Hua Yong’s two biggest problems in recent years.
An Enigma’s sensitivity periods, like an Alpha’s, came in general and special phases. The general phase happened every 2–3 months, but the special phase only occurred in response to a deeply loved, highly compatible partner — and conception chances were higher then, too.
Hua Yong’s first special sensitivity phase happened on his 20th birthday.
His birthdays were always dull. At that time, Beichao Holdings’ old patriarch was still alive. As the man’s 13th illegitimate son, Hua Yong was neither loved nor valued.
He never met his birth mother. His foster mother had died young — reportedly used as a human shield in a gangland shootout orchestrated by the patriarch, dying a miserable death.
Hua Yong never saw her in the end — only her ashes on the altar.
But he didn’t feel particularly sad. He’d always been emotionally detached.
His foster mother had treated him poorly when he was young — cold and harsh until he was 6 or 7 and started to be useful.
But Hua Yong was precocious. He remembered everything, even from age 2 or 3. And he had no greater talent than holding grudges.
The only one who called him “cold” was Shen Wenlang — but Hua Yong never understood why anyone should be warm toward garbage.
Father, uncles, siblings — all scheming, hypocritical cowards. Even so-called “kin” were worthless, let alone strangers.
In all his years, he’d met countless people with honeyed words and daggered hearts — yet only Sheng Shaoyou was warm and bright, like the sun in a clear blue sky.
He made Hua Yong — who scoffed at romance — want, for the first time, to be a star in his orbit.
So long as he could be close enough to that Alpha, he could endure any cold or wind.
On his 20th birthday, his fourth brother — the most promising heir — slipped something indecent into his drink.
It wasn’t personal. He just wanted to set an example for the others.
And Hua Yong, the unlucky “chicken,” was chosen.
Hua Yong noticed the contempt and glee in his second brother’s eyes but drank it anyway.
After all, as an Enigma with powerful purifying abilities, he feared nothing.
He’d hidden his true secondary gender even from his father and foster mother — they thought he was just a delicate boy.
He could endure anything, and this was nothing.
When his fourth brother’s goons hauled him into a gardener’s shack, Hua Yong’s eyes darkened. He hated cramped, earthy-smelling rooms.
He was tossed on the bed — his inhibitor patch barely holding against his icy orchid scent.
He sat up calmly, his wrist so slender it looked like it could snap in a big Alpha’s grip.
He wore a pristine white formal suit, his lips flushed red from the rising heat — like a crimson plum blossom on snow.
But he wasn’t flustered — not even when his fourth brother pulled out his secret poster collection of Sheng Shaoyou.
“Little Thirteen, is this the Alpha you have a crush on?”
Hua Yong’s eyes narrowed, his patience thinning.
“Give it back.”
“Oh, I’ll give it back,” his brother sneered — then tore the poster to shreds, tossing the pieces in his face.
Hua Yong finally raised his gaze — expression still calm but eyes cold.
He tilted his sharp chin and asked softly:
“Do you want to keep your right hand, or your left?”
That night, something happened at Beichao Holdings that no one could quite explain.
The next day, the fourth son of the family became a cripple.
That same day, a private jet marked with an X landed in Jianghu City.
And that night, Sheng Shaoyou, dead drunk from socializing, slept soundly — unaware of the neighbors complaining about the noise from the long-vacant unit next door, where someone had apparently smashed quite a few things.
The next morning, Sheng Shaoyou woke feeling unusually heavy, his right arm so sore it felt like it had swung all night — but surprisingly, he was in a good mood.
Perhaps it was the new incense the maids had chosen.
Even though it wasn’t orchid season, his room had smelled faintly of cold orchids all night — crisp, clean, and inexplicably comforting.