Volume 1 - CH 21

Rimbaud opened his eyes as the hour hand on the wall clock reached 4 a.m.

Surprisingly, the room temperature was fairly comfortable. After spending so much time in the water, the dry ground seemed to feel excessively hot, and the heat might lead his brain to become sluggish and irritable.

The alpha slept next to him, lying sideways, wrapping his arms over his waist in a protective manner. His hair stood on end, and a fine layer of goosebumps raised up on his skin as a result of the room’s air-conditioned low temperature.

The faint scent of brandy hadn’t completely dissipated, and the soothing pheromones made the ordinary little room a tad more comfortable.

Rimbaud sized up the alpha lying next to him silently. His gaze traced down to his scabbed, bitten neck and grimaced coldly—his expression was as complicated as an outraged father who had thrashed his naughty kid in a fit of wrath, then turned around to discover the kid sleeping with palm prints on his ass.

The little alpha appeared to have lost his immature, youthful temperament after three years of separation. His skin, tanned by two degrees due to sun exposure, was no longer as pale and delicate as it had been in the breeding box, but he was still attractive.

Three years older, he wasn’t as good as he used to be. Although he was stronger than he had been, he seemed to have been corrupted by too many bad habits: smoking, flirting with girls, becoming unpredictable and irritable.

Rimbaud’s tail flushed crimson with rage at the memory of their previous argument, and he wondered how the soft little white lion that he’d nurtured on his pheromone could bite him in return for.

During the cultivation period, the experimental subject couldn’t understand language and couldn’t talk to express himself, but his thoughts were receptive. Rimbaud now studied the emotions and actions of the people around him, realizing that he was in a virtual world and that the white lion resting next to him was especially impetuous and irritable.

“Chu g…” Rimbaud tried to pronounce the name that Bai Chunian taught him.

“Chu, ch…g…”

“Chq….”

“Xiao Bai.”

This word rolled off his tongue more easily.

Rimbaud nudged at the alpha who was relishing on the faint pheromone scent on the crook of his neck, temporarily forgetting the bloody drama he had just experienced.

Bai Chunian wasn’t as vigilant as usual and didn’t wake up. Instead, he slept like a dead log, gripping Rimbaud like a fish-shaped body pillow, draping his legs over his tail.

Rimbaud couldn’t resist struggling twice as the heat on his skin rose at high speed from being gripped so firmly. He then yanked Bai Chunian out of bed with his tail, unable to contain his strength.

With a loud bang, Bai Chunian rolled onto the carpet and fell awake. He sat up on the side of the bed, rubbed his head sleepily, wearing a sleepy, harmless expression.

When Bai Chunian noticed Rimbaud’s still crimson tail, he blurted, “Seriously? Are you so mad that you’d do this? I squeezed my gland empty to surround you with my soothing pheromones all night. But then you knock me down when you wake up.”

Rimbaud’s brain couldn’t understand what he was saying, and the words he couldn’t comprehend were all interpreted as swear words. Rimbaud’s tail quickly changed from bright red to bloody crimson, then he angrily lifted his tail and whipped Bai Chunian down the winding staircase.

Bai Chunian caught hold of the railing, conveniently turned over, and fell on Rimbaud. “You better not test my patience.” 

His movements were too big. Rimbaud’s wounded lower torso was yanked as he struggled, and it was so painful that he trembled. Bai Chunian instantly gathered back his strength, uncertain whether to help him rub the wound or blow on it. “Does it hurt? Put up with it for a little bit longer, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Rimbaud took the opportunity to pull the distracted Bai Chunian down from the second floor.

Bai Chunian was caught off guard. He rolled down the steps, his health bar sharply dropping all the way until he landed downstairs, where barely a sliver of life remained.

Just as Lu Yan had geared up, pushing the door with his rifle on his back, only to see Bai Chunian facing the door, kneeling on the carpet on the first floor and propped up on the sofa.

Lu Yan, “? You actually don’t have to.”

Du Mo secretly congratulated himself for not sleeping in the same room as the fish. Even the foreign aid bigshot got all beaten to a bloody pulp. Too dangerous.

Bai Chunian rose up and left, his face grim. When Lu Yan asked him to drive, he snorted, “Whoever wants to drive can do it. Laozi won’t serve you any longer. I’d rather go back to bed than play house with you kids.” He then walked out of the hotel, sat in the shotgun seat, lowered his backrest, put his feet on the window edge, and with his head pillowed on his hand, he closed his eyes and slept.

Du Mo observed the tense situation, so he volunteered to drive. But as soon as his right foot stepped into the driver’s seat, he trembled as he was electrocuted and his hair puffed up.

Glancing back, Rimbaud was coiled around the welcoming statue at the hotel entrance, his eyes full of warning. The electricity inside the transparent tail surged quicker and brighter, a clear indication that it was storing current.

“Ge, please come.” Du Mo stepped back, bowed and pulled the driver’s seat’s door open for Rimbaud.

Rimbaud sat in through the car window, his long tail curved into waves. With an arc, it stepped on one pedal, skillfully starting the car. He navigated out of the garage while adjusting the three rearview mirrors from time to time.

Lu Yan had first keenly noticed the strange atmosphere between them, then accidentally saw several red marks and tooth marks on their necks.

“Aiya.” Lu Yan covered his eyes with his rabbit ears and blushed, criticising, “You’re both not even married. How can you do this?”

Bai Chunian touched the bloody scab on his neck and hummed, “Who told you that you have to get married to bite the neck?”

“My Papa told me.” Lu Yan opened his eyes through his rabbit ears and peeked. “My Papa says he’s a falcon and has a habit of catching and biting rabbits, so he likes to bite Daddy.”

Bai Chunian turned back, very interested in the president’s private life gossip. “I thought the president was sexually indifferent. He has a drawer full of suppressants.”

Lu Yan’s eyes widened. “What’s sexually indifferent?”

Bai Chunian glanced at Rimbaud. Relying on the dumb fish’s comprehension, he said recklessly, “I want to fuck but he doesn’t want to, and I want to kiss but he doesn’t let me, that’s being sexually indifferent.”

The car made a sudden brake, leaving a long track mark, causing all passengers to lurch dizzily. Bai Chunian thought they were in an emergency, so he grabbed his gun, utilized his knowledge to open fire towards the directions that people might come from. 

The car came to a standstill. In the early morning, the surroundings were quiet. The sky hadn’t yet brightened and the air was a little stuffy.

Rimbaud gripped the driving wheel with both hands and looked ahead, nonchalant. His tail freed off of the brake pedal and then wrapped around Bai Chunian’s neck, drawing him near.

A few centimeters apart, the two could smell the faint scent of pheromones on each other’s breath. Rimbaud lifted his jaw slightly to raise up his vision slightly higher than the alpha. He raised his eyebrows and asked, 

“You, kis…s… fe….w?” 

Bai Chunian’s consciousness briefly blanked out as those sapphire eyes gazed down on him.

But still, how much could he really understand?