The scene before him felt strikingly familiar.

Listening to the stifled sobs hidden beneath the pillow, Lin Zhu’s fingers, which were pressing against the back of the man’s neck, inexplicably curled. A certain spot beneath his ribs suddenly tightened—

It ached a little.

In a daze, he recalled that night not too long ago, his first meeting with Yan Ruoyun at the Xiangshan Club.

The same deep night, the same enclosed space, and the sorry sight of one of them losing control in the throes of heat…

Only, this time, the one sinking deep into the heat was Yan Ruoyun. Compared to Lin Zhu that day, he looked even more wretched, more critical, and more helpless.

Lin Zhu pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut forcefully.

He also remembered that vial of Alpha-exclusive suppressants—the one Yan Ruoyun had stuffed into his suit jacket pocket, which later accidentally fell into the corner of the bedroom nightstand, and was ultimately quietly picked up by himself…

In an instant.

It was as if a basin of cold water had been poured over Lin Zhu’s head. He instantly broke free from that complex swirl of suppressed anger and unspeakable grievance.

Beneath him, the man lay weakly on his stomach across the hospital bed, looking exactly like a drowning cat. Even though he was so terrified that he unconsciously curled his tail between his legs, he still tried his hardest to pretend to be calm.

Completely unaware that he was trembling all over.

Lin Zhu silently straightened his posture. He reached out and gathered this little cat who had accidentally fallen into the water into his arms, letting the other man straddle his thighs face-to-face. Then, using the gentlest tone he had ever mustered in his life, he comforted:

“Alright…”

“No deep marks.”

“I never intended to do that to you anyway, so… don’t be afraid.”

“…And don’t cry.”

The man didn’t make a sound. He just kept his eyes tightly shut the whole time, burying his face in the crook of Lin Zhu’s neck. Both of his hands gripped Lin Zhu’s lapels in a death grip, refusing to let go for even a moment.

Lin Zhu’s already loose collar was pulled entirely out of shape, exposing a stretch of his lean yet well-muscled chest.

Yan Ruoyun was drenched all over, his hair mostly wet as well. The sliding water droplets brushed past his skin and hair tips, quickly soaking Lin Zhu’s thin loungewear.

The two soaking wet figures just pressed together like this.

“Beep… beep…”

The subcutaneous monitor was still steadfastly at its post.

Lin Zhu lowered his eyes for a glance.

The electronic screen was glaring with a piercing red light.

The situation was still terrible.

He kept Dr. Xu’s instructions in mind: he had to give the Omega in his arms psychological and physiological soothing before initiating the mark.

Thus, the blond youth grabbed the thin, pure white cotton blanket resting at the foot of the bed. With a few shakes, he unfolded the small square and draped it over the man’s back, covering everything below his waist.

Yan Ruoyun’s body was scorching hot.

Especially the back of his neck; it was terrifyingly red, swollen, and burning.

Through the blanket, Lin Zhu wrapped one arm around his waist, while the fingers of his other hand wove through the man’s thick black hair, gently cupping the back of his head.

At the same time.

He tilted his head and lightly pressed his lips against the man’s swollen gland, pecking it over and over.

With every kiss, he softly murmured, “Don’t be afraid.”

After repeatedly kissing it about thirty times.

Lin Zhu suddenly felt the stiff body in his arms soften a fraction, and the hands gripping his collar slowly loosened…

Yan Ruoyun silently wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face even deeper. The hot breath he exhaled as he spoke poured over Lin Zhu’s collarbone like boiling water.

“Lin Zhu, it hurts.”

The man’s usually cold, jade-like voice had now become low and hoarse, as if his vocal cords had been torn by the agony suppressed in his throat, sounding utterly bitter and strained.

He repeated it once more,

“It hurts.”

Hearing this flatly delivered sentence, Lin Zhu’s breathing suddenly faltered a beat, and the arm hugging Yan Ruoyun’s lower back subconsciously tightened.

After a second of silence.

With lowered eyes, he placed a feather-light kiss on the corner of the man’s forehead and replied in a low voice, “…Mn, I know.”

“Let’s establish a temporary mark first, it should make you feel a bit better.” He paused, then added, “Ge, is that okay?”

Leaning in his embrace, the man nodded soundlessly.

Lin Zhu recalled the contents of the little instructional movies the System had played for him, the physiological knowledge he had studied from biology textbooks these past few days, as well as the advice Dr. Xu had just given him…

Slowly, his fingers cupping the back of the man’s head moved downward. His fingertips landed on the gland that was swollen a finger high. With an extremely ambiguous pressure, he stroked the soft, resilient mass hidden beneath the skin, over and over.

Sometimes heavy, sometimes light.

Sometimes dragging the side of his thumb in a circle around the edge of the gland, and other times pressing his entire palm against it, kneading and rubbing.

Yan Ruoyun seemed freezing cold, trembling constantly.

Yet the reality was quite the opposite.

His body temperature remained so high that it gave Lin Zhu the illusion that he was holding a ball of blazing fire.

Suppressing his worry, Lin Zhu put all his effort into massaging Yan Ruoyun’s gland to achieve a soothing effect.

Once the massage was more or less sufficient, he lowered his aching, swollen arm. With his two arms having nowhere else to go, he wrapped them around Yan Ruoyun’s waist and back.

The thin blanket only covered up to his waist. As the man’s back was exposed to the air, his spinal line protruded slightly—a perfect amalgamation of bone and flesh.

Lin Zhu adjusted his position. After making sure the man in his arms was sitting steadily, he once again pressed his lips against the scent gland on the back of his neck…

This time, however, what landed on Yan Ruoyun’s gland was not a kiss full of tender affection, but something else entirely—something that made one instinctively want to shudder and dodge.

It was a threat, a deterrence, and a seduction.

“…”

For the first time in his life, Lin Zhu felt that his overly long canines actually had a positive, practical use, aside from making him look even less like a good guy.

He opened his mouth, recalling the key points of an Alpha guiding an Omega through a mark like reciting a textbook. With movements that were clumsy yet resolute, he pressed the tips of his fangs against Yan Ruoyun’s gland…

He didn’t bite down.

Instead, he lightly scraped his fangs across the surface of the skin, gliding over it as briskly as a swallow skimming the water.

Leaving only ripples leisurely expanding across the surface.

Unlike the swift and decisive action last time at the Xiangshan Club, Lin Zhu was exceptionally dilatory this time. He dragged it out until Yan Ruoyun in his arms could no longer bear it, pressing his forehead hard against the youth’s shoulder and urging in breakdown:

“…Lin Zhu!”

He only cried out the youth’s name.

Yet Lin Zhu breathed a heavy sigh of relief in his heart. As if receiving a certain signal, he opened his mouth, accurately clamped down on the man’s gland, and pierced his fangs right in!

At the exact same time, he called out to his System in his consciousness:

“Increase the synchronization rate. Do it right now.”

Because it was so adept at reading the room that it always precisely and manually muted itself at critical moments, the System received its Host’s signal. It zipped online with a swish and declared:

“Okay, okay! Host, I’m here!”

Due to the System’s previous operational errors, the integration rate between Lin Zhu’s soul and this physical body hadn’t reached the 60% passing mark, leaving him temporarily unable to independently control his pheromone secretion.

According to estimates, this bug would require about half a month to automatically patch itself.

But right now, it hadn’t even been half a month since Lin Zhu transmigrated into this book’s world. Which meant… he still couldn’t smell other people’s pheromones, nor his own.

And Lin Zhu’s acute heat last time was likely just a side effect of the System modifying his body.

A one-time occurrence, never to happen again.

This also meant that, as a temporarily defective Alpha, Lin Zhu was completely incapable of actively secreting pheromones to comfort an Omega.

Regarding this issue, the man and the System had discussed it long ago while reviewing the script, but unfortunately, they hadn’t reached a solution.

It wasn’t until a system module called ‘Character Persona Synchronization’ appeared that the System had a flash of inspiration and confidently guaranteed:

“Oh hey? Host, when I was checking the modules in the backend just now, I discovered something—when you initiate Character Persona Synchronization, the fusion rate between your soul and body will also skyrocket!”

“If you want to restore the ability to independently control your pheromones, you can try raising your character synchronization rate.”

It said with absolute certainty.

He had originally thought this method might not even be necessary. After all, the original novel didn’t explicitly state the exact time when the second key plot point would occur.

There was only a vague time frame.

But who knew things would coincide so perfectly.

Inside the System Space.

The white orb of light extended two little nubs. Like a chubby Antarctic penguin, it moved with extreme clumsiness as it pulled two wires out of its own bulging belly, turning around to plug them into the system interface…

[Wait.]

The normally silent blue orb was suddenly on high alert and couldn’t help but ask: [Senior, what are you doing?]

Holding up the wires extending from its own body, the System hummed. Uncharacteristically refraining from kicking and punching the sub-system, it answered quite frankly:

“I’m getting ready to take this thing—”

“And shock the ‘Character Persona Synchronization’ module. I’ll force it to run into an error first, and then, with my quick reflexes, I’ll exploit the bug and manually adjust the Host’s sync rate.”

“Hmm… adjusting it to 60% should be enough, right?”

After saying that, it even genuinely praised the blue orb: “I have to thank you for reminding me. After all, uploading fake data packets is a method that can only be used occasionally. If I do it too many times, I feel like the risk of being discovered by the Main Bureau is super high. I really don’t want to be dragged away for a secondary total wipe…”

Blue orb: […]

In an instant, the sub-system once again generated a massive amount of redundant data.

Who am I? Where am I?

Will I still be able to return safely to the Main Bureau?

The sub-system inexplicably felt as though it had just been passing by, yet accidentally witnessed a crime scene, and even listened to the criminal spill all their modus operandi unprompted…

It diligently scoured its big data, ultimately making a tragic discovery:

In the movies and TV dramas of ordinary humans, innocent bystanders who hear the culprit’s confession never seem to meet a good end… They are either coerced into becoming accomplices, or they get offed.

So, how was it supposed to write the mission report this time?

The sub-system hadn’t forgotten the series of truly terrifying threats the Main System had leveled at it after it reported an error to the Main Bureau last time—but as things stood now, being kicked three times a day by the Main System didn’t even seem like a big deal anymore.

What was even more terrifying was…

Right at that moment, the white orb excitedly waved the wires held in its little nubs. Sticking out its chest smugly, it chuckled and showed off:

“This right here! It’s completely slathered in my specially collected viruses!”

Sub-system: [……]

The blue orb silently shrank back into the corner, attempting to minimize its presence.

Ah, the anxiety.