Who the hell cares if someone confessed to Su Ling! Pei You thought.
But a ball of fire coiled in his chest, unspooling and churning, a suffocating weight he couldn't shake.
He had to admit it—these days with Su Ling around, he'd felt a lightness he'd never known before. And besides, legal spouse was legal spouse, whether this marriage was real or just a contract.
How dare someone with a husband run around flirting with other people?!
Pei You flicked his eyes at Mu Zecheng, a silent signal to keep talking.
Mu Zecheng's heart skipped a beat. If Pei You didn't care about Su Ling, he'd never have let him continue, never have let that anger glint in his eyes. Could he actually have feelings for Su Ling? What kind of taste was that? Pei You, who'd turned down every gorgeous omega throwing themselves at him, falling for this guy?
"He turned them down. Said he only has eyes for you, that he'd stay by your side no matter what." Mu Zecheng recounted the scene, his gaze fixed on Pei You's face the whole time.
He didn't miss the cold flash that darted across Pei You's eyes—mockery, disdain, anything but joy.
So no feelings, then. Mu Zecheng let out a quiet breath of relief. After digging into Su Ling's background, he'd not a single good impression of the kid, and he sure as hell didn't want Pei You catching feelings for him.
But Pei You knew the truth. The little guy had signed that contract with a white-knuckled fear, plain as day he didn't accept this marriage. He'd said it himself—this was just a deal.
Love? Faithfulness? Sticking together forever? All lies.
Fine. He'd let the kid off the hook, just this once, for not actually messing around with some random stranger.
Pei You switched gears, asking about the legion's current state. They didn't talk long before Mu Zecheng left. A visit from his adjutant was fine, but lingering too long would draw unwanted attention. Times were shaky enough—better to not add fuel to the fire.
Pei You lay in bed, his mind spinning with the Xie family's schemes, a black fog clinging to him like tar, thickening the air in the room until it was hard to breathe.
Until Su Ling pushed the door open.
Su Ling's eyes were half-lidded, clear and bright as unpolished crystal, a bright smile curving his lips—a smile that glowed, burning through the darkness in the room in an instant. He was wary of Mu Zecheng, but never of the General. Maybe it was because he'd laid his cards on the table from the start. Maybe it was because he felt sorry for the General's fate, his mind so focused on taking care of him that he'd forgotten to be careful about anything else.
Su Ling tilted his head, his voice bright and young, soft with a coaxing lilt that made it impossible to say no to anything he asked. "General, can I shave your beard for you?"
"Zhuangzhuang nicked your chin the other day when he did it. Figured I'd take over—safer that way." He shook the can of shaving foam, grinning at Pei You. "I've never shaved anyone before, but I'm definitely better than Zhuangzhuang. I won't cut you, I promise."
Pei You's pupils constricted, darkening his eyes until they looked like bottomless pools.
"Y'know, General, even your beard is nicer than everyone else's." Su Ling spread the foam over Pei You's jaw, a flicker of envy twisting in his chest. He wanted that rough, masculine edge too. Thinking about his own facial hair—fine as down, impossible to see even with a magnifying glass—he wanted to grab the author of this mess and make them rewrite the damn script!
Su Ling wiped Pei You's face clean, stepping back to admire his work. And damn it, the protagonist was the protagonist for a reason. Stunning at first glance, and more handsome the longer you looked. The author was so biased! Why couldn't a cannon fodder beta have a nice beard, a broad chest, abs cut like marble?
Muscles. The word hit Su Ling like a brick, his eyes flying open. If the General stayed immobile for too long, his muscles would atrophy—that'd ruin his recovery. He'd forgotten to give him a massage. Dereliction of duty!
Late that night, Su Ling hauled Pei You into bed, tucking him in carefully like he did every night. Pei You expected him to wish him goodnight and leave, like always. Instead, Su Ling stretched, and climbed in after him.
He dared to climb into his bed?!
Pei You stared at him, confused and guarded, his dark eyes sharp enough to cut—but Su Ling just grinned, unafraid. He prodded Pei You's arm, curious. "You worked hard for this body, huh? You wanna keep it?"
He raised an eyebrow, pride shining in his eyes. "I'm gonna give you a muscle massage. It'll help with your recovery. If it hurts, just frown, okay?"
He started with Pei You's limbs, pinching his arm—his muscles were so stiff, so hard, they might as well have been plastic, if not for the warm pulse of life under his fingers. Su Ling worked his thumb up Pei You's arm, slow and steady, trying to loosen the knots of tension.
Pei You was a man who kept everyone at arm's length—and his muscles were no different. No one had ever touched him like this, soft and insistent. A tingle spread across his skin, his muscles twitching uncontrollably, his arm feeling like it was floating outside his body. His index finger jerked—once.
Su Ling had been watching him like a hawk. He saw it, a shout of joy bursting from his lips. "It moved! General, your hand moved!" His eyes were blazing, his smile so wide it lit up his whole face. "Did you see that? Can you feel it?"
That unbridled joy was warm, a flame that chased away the cold in Pei You's bones. Pei You's lips parted, like he was about to speak, a breath escaping him—then he closed them again, silent.
"I knew the massage would work!" Su Ling's hands moved faster, soft but strong, working over Pei You's rigid arm. Pei You fought down the messy flutters in his chest, his eyes fixed on Su Ling, unblinking—like he was studying a battle plan. He'd never been good at trusting people, not before, and certainly not now.
But Su Ling's fair cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly parted, trembling with every breath, fine beads of sweat dotting his small nose, his bright eyes filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated joy. Pei You couldn't find a single hint of fakeness, not then, not ever. The little guy had so many secrets, but he didn't even try to hide them—instead, he clung to Pei You, like he was begging to be found out.
"Is this nice?" Su Ling asked, grinning. "If it is, can I get a bonus? A big one?" He saw the sweat beading on Pei You's forehead, and his heart soared—sweat meant detox, right? He pressed harder, his hands moving faster.
Maybe it was the sweat, maybe it was the heat of the moment—but a faint scent drifted to Su Ling's nose, salty sea spray and pine, sharp and clean.
Here we go again!
He clapped a hand over his nose, fumbling for the pheromone inhibitor with the other and spraying it at Pei You. Then he pulled two nasal plugs out of his pocket, shoving them into his nostrils, his voice muffled but proud. "Don't worry. I've had practice. I came prepared for anything."
Pei You liked seeing him like this—proud, a little smug, his eyes bright with mischief.
"You're smiling!" Su Ling's face lit up, ecstatic. "General, you're smiling!" It was the first time he'd ever seen a smile in Pei You's eyes, and it made his chest feel light, like he'd finally beaten the first level of a game he'd been stuck on for days—a rush of pride he couldn't put into words. He wiped the sweat from Pei You's forehead, his voice soft. "I know you're laughing at me for being silly, but it's okay. You look better when you smile. You should do it more often." He went back to massaging Pei You's legs, his hands moving from his toes up to his thighs, a mix of sharp pain and warm tingling spreading through Pei You's body, racing up his spine to his brain.
Su Ling was about to roll Pei You over to massage his back when a voice spoke—low, deep, smooth as silk, a cello's G string plucked just right. "If you want a divorce, why wait seven months?"