"How about you? Does it feel good?"
Xue's jaw tightened, his gaze still turned away, but the redness creeping up the tips of his ears betrayed him.
Ziqian immediately noticed the subtle shift in Xue's body, the way his breathing deepened and his muscles tensed. His lips curved upward, mischief sparking in his peach-blossom eyes as he leaned against the man's chest, pretending to sigh helplessly. "Do you want me to do it again?"
Xue's brows furrowed deeper as if he were struggling in a battle only he could see. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out, his silence betraying just how torn he was. The mighty warrior, respected and revered by his tribe, suddenly looked so vulnerable.
The sub-beast chuckled softly, unable to hold back at the sight. He pressed a light kiss to Xue's lips, sweet and fleeting. "Let's go." He'd only meant to tease, nothing more—not out in the wild, where even a single careless moment could cost them their lives.
Ziqian turned to gather his things, ready to continue to their next destination. But after only two steps, his knees felt numb, strength draining from his legs until he nearly stumbled.
Xue's hand shot out, steadying him before he could fall. "What's wrong?" His voice was low, edged with worry.
Ziqian didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze dropped to his legs—and his breath caught. Bruises sprawled across his knees, swelling red and tender. No wonder they felt numb. A bitter laugh almost escaped him. He hadn't expected this new body to be so fragile, so quick to mark, as if even a few minutes of kneeling were too much for it to bear.
Xue followed the sub-beast's gaze, and his eyes darkened at the sight—red bruises staining Ziqian's fair legs, stark against pale skin. Without a word, he bent down, scooping Ziqian up with decisive ease. In the same motion, he shouldered all their belongings.
Ziqian let out a startled sound as he was swept off the ground, his arms instinctively wrapping around Xue's neck. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asked anxiously.
"You're hurt," he said in a low, hoarse voice, the words edged with self-blame. "Go back to the tribe."
"…You're overreacting again," Ziqian murmured.
"Go back to the tribe," Xue repeated, his expression unreadable, though his tightened jaw betrayed the storm inside.
Ziqian pursed his lips, staring up at the man's chiseled face. "No, we need to go to the grove first," he protested, twisting a little in Xue's arms.
The man didn't respond and only fixed him with a cold stare.
"I'm fine. It just looks scary, but it doesn't hurt," Ziqian murmured softly, brushing a kiss against his cheek. "Didn't you say the grove is near here? Let's go there, make some wares, and then we can head back."
"We can return tomorrow," Xue replied sternly—but without realizing it, his tone had already softened.
"But it's still early, and I want to cook for you."
Xue's jaw tightened.
"Do you remember the food I gave you this morning?" Ziqian smiled. "I'll make it for you again when we return—but I need those tools first."
His voice fell into a pleading lilt. "Please."
Ziqian coaxed for a long time before Xue finally relented, though he refused to let him walk. Without a word, the man carried him all the way from the waterfalls to the Cinna grove.
Even there, Xue's expression stayed cold, his silence heavier than usual. But Ziqian could sense it wasn't anger—it was worry.
He placed him under the shade of a tree while Xue set to work carving kitchen and table wares from the branches of Cinna.
Ziqian busied himself weaving baskets. Neither spoke, the quiet broken only by the scrape of wood and the soft rustle of vines.
From time to time, Xue's gaze drifted to him, lingering on his legs. The bruises had darkened, stark against his pale skin, and with each glance, the air around the man grew colder.
Xue's jaw clenched when he noticed more faint but undeniable marks imprinted on Ziqian's pale skin—the faint bruises around the sub-beast's delicate wrist where his own hand had gripped too tightly… and on the soft curve of his waist where his fingers had dug in earlier.
A sharp current of guilt stabbed through him.
"...I hurt you." The words were quiet, almost a growl, heavy with self-condemnation. His sapphire eyes darkened, clouded with something heavier than lust—remorse.
Ziqian blinked at him, then followed his gaze down to his wrist and side. His lips parted in surprise before curving into a soft smile. "These? " he asked, lifting his marked wrist and pressing it against Xue's cheek. "This much doesn't count as hurting. It only means you wanted me."
Xue stiffened, caught between anger at himself and the dangerous warmth that rose at Ziqian's teasing words.
Ziqian softly chuckled as he continued his work with a smile.
Xue is too innocent, he thought, warmth spreading quietly through his chest.
When Xue finished, he was also done weaving the three small baskets for the trio.
It was still early, but Xue would not agree to any more detours, and Ziqian had no intention of asking. When Xue lifted him again, Ziqian simply looped his arms around the man's neck, resting against him with quiet obedience.
"Thank you," he whispered, just loud enough for Xue to hear.
In response, Xue lowered his head and brushed a light kiss over Ziqian's eyes. "Rest."
Ziqian shifted until he found a comfortable position, nuzzling into the curve of Xue's neck. He wasn't truly tired—after all, Xue had carried him most of the way—but the cool air and the man's steady warmth, laced with that refreshing scent, lulled his body into drowsiness. Slowly, his lashes fluttered shut, surrendering to a nap in the safety of Xue's arms.
When they returned, the tribe's center bustled with life. Beasts were dividing freshly hunted prey, females busied themselves cleaning the day's harvest, and groups of sub-beasts sat together, laughing and chattering.
But the instant eyes fell on Xue carrying Ziqian in his arms, the noise drained away. Conversations faltered, hands stilled mid-task, and one by one, the lively voices faded away.
The young patriarch's silver hair caught the dying light of the sun, but there was nothing warm in the sight—his expression was frozen, his gaze sharp enough to cut. The other females and sub-beasts, who just moments ago were gossiping and laughing, now clutched at each other, eyes wide. Some beasts straightened unconsciously, their eyes wary—respect mingled with fear.
Yan, Tei, and Qiu saw Ziqian unconscious in Xue's arms, bruises stark against his pale legs, their hearts clenched in alarm. They immediately pushed through the crowd, desperate to reach him—but froze mid-step.
The crushing weight of Xue's pheromones slammed into them, cold and suffocating, their instincts screaming danger. It was as though the air itself had turned hostile, warning them that one step closer would mean crossing into a predator's den.
Many people were genuinely worried about Ziqian's condition and wanted to know what had happened. Some, however, wore open hatred and jealousy on their faces, not even bothering to conceal it. Their eyes followed Xue's every step, filled with resentment.
And then there were the rest—those who only leaned in closer, eager to feed their hunger for gossip.
Xue ignored them all, his pace steady and urgent, his expression carved from stone. Yet, as he passed in front of Tei, he halted just long enough to press three baskets into their arms. Not a single word was spoken.
The trio's faces brightened at once at the unexpected gift, but their relief was short-lived. Their gazes returned to the unconscious sub-beast in Xue's arms, worry settling deeper into their chests.
In order to heal Ziqian, Xue carried him straight to the tribe leader's tent, intending to summon his mother. But before he could call out, the sub-beast—who had been feigning sleep—suddenly opened his eyes and slipped down from the man's arms.
In truth, Ziqian had already woken up long before Xue even entered the tribe. He'd only been too lazy to move, content to rest against the man's warmth.
What he hadn't expected was that his little indulgence would stir such a storm of misunderstanding. "I'm fine," Ziqian insisted quickly. "You don't need to call the high priest."
Xue didn't respond. His ocean-blue eyes churned with violent waves as he fixed them on the sub-beast, silent and unyielding. Then, without warning, he pulled Ziqian close and captured those sweet red lips once more.
Ziqian's eyes widened, his protest swallowed by the sudden heat of the kiss.
At that moment, Lia arrived, breathless from rushing back after hearing of Ziqian's accident. He pushed open the tent's flap. What greeted him was not the fragile patient he imagined, but the sight of the two locked in an intimate kiss.
"Tss… what a fuss," he muttered under his breath as he walked out of the tent with a gentle smile on his lips.
"Nothing serious happened. Ziqian only needs to get some rest," he reassured the crowd that had gathered, his calm tone like cool water poured over heated stones.
Those who were genuinely worried about what had happened to the lively and beautiful sub-beast sighed in relief. But among the elders, a different tension lingered. To them, Ziqian was not just any sub-beast—he was the Beast God's Messenger. The thought that something might have truly harmed him sent a cold shiver through their hearts. If the Beast God's messenger were mistreated under their care, would divine wrath fall upon the entire tribe?
Lia still didn't know what had actually happened. He was only informed that Ziqian had been carried back unconscious, with bruises marking his legs. Alarmed, he had rushed over as soon as he finished tending to a sick cub. But after glimpsing the liveliness inside the tent, he could only conclude the matter wasn't as grave as the rumors said.
After dispersing the anxious crowd, Lia returned to the tent. Before stepping inside, he cleared his throat with three deliberate coughs—loud enough for anyone within to hear.
Xue wasn't a fool. By now, he should have gotten the message to stop… whatever they were doing.
To give Xue and Ziqian the space to develop their feelings naturally, Lia had deliberately sent Huo away. He'd worried his abstinent son might take forever to woo the sub-beast, that his rigid nature would keep him fumbling at a distance.
But only a few days have passed, and they are already intimate.
With his heightened senses, Xue had already heard his mother outside even before entering, but he couldn't stop—no, he did not wish to stop. The taste of the sub-beast's lips was far too addictive, his warmth far too precious. If Ziqian hadn't placed his hands on his chest and gently pushed him away, Xue would have continued until the sub-beast was left breathless all over again.
When Lia came in again, Ziqian was already seated on a pile of soft fur. His cheeks were still flushed, his peach-blossom eyes lowered as though too shy to meet anyone's gaze.
In front of him, Xue was half-kneeling, broad shoulders bowed in rare gentleness as he carefully applied a concoction to the purple bruises on Ziqian's knees. His large hands moved with surprising delicacy, every touch precise and protective, as if the slightest mistake might break the fragile sub-beast before him.
Lia paused at the sight, a smile tugging faintly at his lips. The tenderness in his abstinent son's actions spoke louder than any words.