It had been a week.
Seven days in the penthouse, and Shen Qiqi still couldn't believe it was real. The government Omega registration had been completed within 24 hours of his arrival. Pei Yuchen had handled everything—calmly, efficiently, with all the weight and speed that came from being a man the world listened to.
It was done in a single visit: his biometric scan, scent signature, Omega classification. On paper, he now officially belonged to the city. But more intimately… he belonged to Pei Yuchen.
He still remembered the look the clerk gave him at the registry office—the quick glance at Pei Yuchen, then back at him. And the almost imperceptible raise of her brow when she read the bond classification:
Temporary Omega Registration – Linked to Dominant Alpha Pei Yuchen
Scent Compatibility Index: 98.7%
Instinct Match: High
When he read the document, her words echoed in his mind—soft but filled with awe. "I've worked here for nearly ten years," the clerk had said, eyes wide as she reviewed their file. "And I've never seen a scent compatibility this high. 98.7%. It's… incredibly rare. Honestly, it's an honor just to process this." That made Shen Qiqi's face turn crimson red as he look at the tall and broading figure next to him. Cause after that life felt like a dream.
The silk sheets, the sweeping skyline, the quiet hum of wealth—it was all surreal. A far cry from the cramped studio apartment and cheap ramen he once called normal. Here, he woke to the scent of imported espresso and faint sandalwood, wrapped in silence and soft luxury.
And every night, Pei Yuchen returned.
Predictably, quietly. But never indifferently.
What started as tentative proximity had deepened into something else—something dangerous. They had agreed to "give it a try," this odd, undefined relationship where the lines between the deal and connection blurred more with every look, every kiss.
And Pei Yuchen… kissed him a lot.
Not like it was casual. Not like it was owed. But like he needed it. Like tasting Qiqi's lips, over and over, helped anchor something volatile inside him.
It wasn't just kissing, either.
There were the moments when Pei Yuchen's mouth brushed over Qiqi's scent gland—slow, reverent, the press of warm lips over sensitive skin. His tongue would graze just enough to leave Qiqi breathless, his legs weak and his thoughts scrambled.
It never went too far. Pei Yuchen always stopped. But he never did so without leaving Qiqi trembling—desperate and glowing from the inside out.
How can someone who looks like a threat to national security kiss me like I'm made of sugar glass?
Qiqi found himself thinking that more than once, curled up on the velvet couch, still flushed from the last stolen moment against the penthouse wall or whispered against his neck in the quiet dark. He found himself thinking that he wanted more than just a kiss.
Every touch, every glance, was filled with that fierce, focused intensity only he could carry—like Qiqi was something rare and delicate that he'd claimed, but refused to break.
Qiqi had never been treated like that before.
Protected. Desired. Handled like he mattered.
Some days, he wandered barefoot through the penthouse, fingers trailing along polished marble counters and sleek glass railings, the scent of Pei Yuchen still clinging to his skin.
And every time he looked in the mirror and saw the faint red mark near his neck—evidence of the Alpha's lips on his scent gland—his breath caught.
Not because it hurt.
But because it reminded him this was happening.
That Pei Yuchen—CEO, cold-blooded Alpha, untouchable tycoon—kept choosing him.
Over and over again.
And each time, Shen Qiqi fell a little deeper.
Shen Qiqi stared at the neatly packed bento box in front of him and frowned. "Does this look okay?" he asked, tilting the box slightly for inspection.
One of the kitchen staff leaned in with an approving nod. "It looks wonderful, Mr. Shen. I'm sure Young Master Pei will be very pleased."
A few of the others chimed in with similar reassurances, all smiles and soft encouragement.
It had only been a week since Pei Yuchen had formally registered him, and during that time, Qiqi had been introduced to every member of the household staff that worked in the sprawling penthouse. Eight in total—each with a specific role, each discreet yet efficient. The butler, the chef, the kitchen staff, the housekeepers… Pei Yuchen had made the introductions himself, his tone calm and businesslike, but there had been a quiet pride in the way he said: "This is Shen Qiqi, as of right now he is my registered Omega. He'll be living here from now on."
At that, the staff treat him very respectful and politely, sparing no effort to ensure that he will be well taken care of.
Pei Yuchen's lunch looked too cute for someone who made investors cry. But he couldn't help himself—he'd made a little steamed shrimp dumplings that he had once tried to make him but failed ultimately, he hoped that this one succeed. He also madelayered slices of marinated beef, even carved fruit into neat spirals.
Not because he had to.
But because something inside him wanted to do this.
Maybe it was the way Pei Yuchen always touched him like he was something precious. Maybe it was how he kissed Qiqi's temple without thinking when he left for work. Or maybe—just maybe—Qiqi wanted to see what kind of world the Alpha ruled outside of this penthouse, beyond the soft silks and warm hands.
So, he dressed simply—loose cream sweater, light slacks,his scent mixed with Pei Yuchen's—and call a cab.
Pei Corporation loomed over the city like a silver blade. Sleek, tall, and gleaming in the sunlight.
As Qiqi stepped through the entrance, he was immediately flanked by two receptionists—both Alphas, both wide-eyed at the unregistered Omega standing at the threshold of the empire.
"I'm here to see Pei Yuchen," Qiqi said, chin raised with every ounce of confidence he could muster.
The woman in the reception looks at him and gave him a respectful and polite smile. "Mr Shen welcome. Chairman Pei has already gave us the instruction on whenever you visit you can just take the private elevator in the west area." Qiqi lets out a sigh of relief and thanked the woman.
"Its no trouble Mr Shen."
The receptionist stepped aside just as the elevator on the west wing dinged open — and a tall man in a perfectly tailored navy-blue suit stepped out.
Fu Jing.
Pei Yuchen's executive assistant.
His face was cool and professional, but not unkind. "Chairman Pei saw you coming in through the CCTV monitor and sent me here to escort you up."
Qiqi's breath caught — not in fear, but in realization. He really told them all. He really made it official.
The butterflies in his chest danced wildly, but he kept his voice level. "Thank you, Assistant Fu."
Fu Jing didn't smile, but something in his gaze softened.
"This way, please."
As they entered the private elevator, Qiqi stood quietly beside him, the hum of ascent pressing lightly in his ears. Through the mirrored walls, he caught sight of himself — cheeks slightly pink, lashes fluttering, eyes brighter than usual.
He didn't look like someone who had crashed into this world with no plan.
He looked... pampered.
The elevator stopped with a soft chime, and the doors opened directly onto the top floor — the executive wing. The lighting here was gentler, the air cooler, and the hallway stretched in refined silence. The scent of faint cologne, polished wood, and subtle citrus lingered in the air.
Fu Jing led him forward, stopping in front of the wide double doors of the CEO's private office.
He turned to Qiqi, and this time, there was the faintest trace of something else in his expression — maybe amusement. Maybe approval.
"Just a word of advice," he said quietly. "When you see him... don't be surprised."
Qiqi blinked. "Surprised?"
Fu Jing gave the slightest tilt of his head. "Chairman Pei may be terrifying to most of us. But when it comes to you... he's already lost."
Before Qiqi could respond, the doors opened from the inside.
And there he was.
Pei Yuchen stood behind his desk, sunlight streaming in behind him, casting a gold halo across his crisp white shirt. His eyes found Qiqi instantly — and his entire posture softened.
Just a little.
Just enough for Qiqi to feel it deep in his bones.
He wasn't walking into an office.
He was walking into his space.
As Fu Jing stepped aside, Shen Qiqi took a few hesitant steps into the executive suite—just in time to hear the low, clipped tone of Pei Yuchen's voice through the slightly ajar door of the inner conference room.
"No. I don't care what the shareholders think."
That voice.
It was cold, sharp as cut glass—so different from the man who kissed his forehead in bed, who whispered his name like a vow during the quiet hours of dawn.
Qiqi paused, just out of sight, his breath catching in his throat.
Inside the room, a handful of men in suits sat stiffly at a long table. Their expressions were carefully neutral—but beneath the surface, Qiqi could see it: unease. Respect. Submission.
Pei Yuchen stood at the head of the table, tall and unwavering, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his tie slightly loosened. He wasn't yelling. He didn't need to. His authority wrapped around the room like a noose—tight, silent, inevitable.
"The projections were flawed from the beginning," Yuchen continued, tone low and brutal. "And if you're telling me none of you caught it, then you're either underqualified or intentionally blind. I won't tolerate either."
No one dared speak.
One man cleared his throat to object, but Pei Yuchen turned his gaze on him—and he fell silent, as if struck.
Qiqi's heart thumped.
This side of him was powerful. Unshakable. A man built of stone and will, used to getting what he wanted, used to bending the world around him.
And this man... had held him like he was made of glass.
Qiqi didn't know why it made his throat tighten.
He stepped back quietly before anyone noticed, heart still fluttering in his chest. By the time Yuchen emerged from the conference room, closing the door behind him with quiet finality, Qiqi was already seated on the couch, unpacking the small lunch container with slightly trembling hands.
Yuchen's eyes softened immediately upon seeing him.
"Sorry," he said, voice quieter now—still edged with authority, but tamed. "That took longer than I thought."
Qiqi looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You looked like you were about to devour someone in there."
Pei Yuchen raised an eyebrow, approaching. "Did I scare you?"
Qiqi hesitated, then shook his head. "No. I think… I just forgot how much of the world listens to you."
Yuchen's gaze lingered on him, unreadable, then sat down across from him at the low table.
"Only when I need it to," he said. "But with you… I listen instead."
That made Qiqi blink.
He looked down, flustered, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the table was between them. How warm Yuchen's presence was. How safe.
He pushed the lunch container toward him. "I made those steamed shrimp dumplings you liked."
Pei Yuchen reached out, picking one up between elegant fingers, and took a bite without hesitation. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and said, "They're better than last time."
Qiqi lit up. "Really?"
Yuchen nodded once. "You're improving."
They ate in silence for a moment, but it wasn't awkward. The office was soundproof. The curtains filtered soft daylight across the table. Here, behind closed doors, Pei Yuchen wasn't a CEO. He was a man who carefully wiped a bit of chili oil from the corner of Qiqi's mouth with his thumb.
"You came all the way just to bring me lunch?" he asked, voice quieter now.
Qiqi looked at him, honest and open. "I just wanted to see you."
"How did you get here?" Pei Yuchen asked, his voice low as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The usual edge in his gaze had softened, the golden hue in his eyes dimming into a gentler, molten amber.
Qiqi blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. "I… took a cab," he replied honestly.
Immediately, Pei Yuchen's brows pulled together in a tight furrow. "No," he said, firm but not unkind. "Don't do that again."
Qiqi tilted his head. "What?"
Pei Yuchen exhaled slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. "Next time you come here—or go anywhere—have Driver Ji take you. Always. No exceptions."
There was no room for argument in his tone, but it wasn't controlling. It was something else entirely.
Protective.
Possessive, maybe—but not in a way that made Qiqi bristle. If anything, it made his chest warm, like the words were a shield being quietly placed over him.
"Okay," he murmured after a beat, lips curling in a small smile. "Bossy."
Pei Yuchen's gaze linger from his face onto his neck and lips, "Whenever you want to see me just come up here by yourself, or you can have Fu Jing escort you up."
Lunch had long since dwindled into a lull of quiet conversation, half-finished dumplings forgotten on the side table. The light in the office had shifted—cooler now, the early afternoon sun casting silver streaks across Pei Yuchen's desk.
Shen Qiqi sat beside him on the couch, one leg tucked under him, fingers playing idly with the edge of Yuchen's cuff. They weren't speaking, not really. The silence between them had turned soft and warm, charged with something neither of them wanted to break.
Yuchen's fingers brushed along Qiqi's cheek, lingering at the curve of his jaw. "You're quiet," he murmured, voice deep, velvet.
Qiqi looked up at him, lashes fluttering. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"…About how unfair it is that someone who looks this cold gets to kiss like that."
Pei Yuchen's brow lifted. "Oh?"
Qiqi smiled, shy and mischievous all at once. "It's hard to concentrate when you're looking at me like that."
Yuchen leaned in slowly, the edge of control in his body dissolving into something more tender. "Like what?"
"Like you want to devour me."
"I do."
And with that, he kissed him.
Slow. Deep. Possessive.
Qiqi gasped softly against his lips, and Yuchen took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, one large hand sliding behind Qiqi's neck to cradle him gently, the other braced on the back of the couch. It wasn't rushed—just consuming.
Qiqi melted under him, lips parting with a soft sound that made Yuchen growl low in his throat. His scent flared, rich and grounding, wrapping around Qiqi like a cloak.
And then—
Knock knock.
The sound was sharp. Too sharp.
Both of them froze.
Qiqi blinked, lips red and swollen, eyes glassy. "Did someone—?"
Before he could finish, the office door opened a crack—just enough for Fu Jing's crisp voice to carry in.
"I'm very sorry to interrupt you Chairman but the board meeting with the international investors has been moved up. They're waiting on—"
He stopped. A long beat of silence.
Pei Yuchen let out a slow, deliberate breath and leaned forward just enough to shield Qiqi from view with his broad shoulders.
Qiqi, flustered and wide-eyed, immediately curled closer into Yuchen's chest, burying his red face into the expensive fabric of his suit.
Fu Jing cleared his throat with a sound that somehow managed to be both dry and deeply professional, he bowed "Forgive me Chairman."
The door shut quietly.
Qiqi let out a muffled, horrified groan against Yuchen's chest. "I'm going to die."
"You're not," Yuchen said, one arm slipping securely around his waist. "But Fu Jing might."
"You're not embarrassed?"
Pei Yuchen gave a soft huff of amusement and tilted Qiqi's face up by the chin. "I'm the CEO. If I want to kiss my Omega in my own office, I will."
Qiqi's heart skipped wildly. He swatted at Yuchen's chest, half-playful, half-scandalized. "You're impossible."
"And you're mine," Pei Yuchen said simply, brushing his thumb over Qiqi's lower lip, still slightly damp from their kiss. "Now let me go deal with business before Fu Jing has an aneurysm."
He stood slowly, fixing his collar, scent still warm in the air. As he moved toward the door, he paused—then looked over his shoulder, eyes dark with promise.
"Wait for me."
Qiqi, still curled up on the couch, cheeks flushed and lips tingling, could only nod, heart pounding.
That was the first time since they met that Pei Yuchen called him his. Because in this glass palace of power and poise, Pei Yuchen hadn't just claimed him.
He'd made him feel wanted.
Pei Yuchen stepped into the hallway with the effortless grace of someone who owned everything around him. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, his expression shifted—from warm to cold steel.
Fu Jing was waiting just outside, tablet in hand, already launching into the agenda for the upcoming board review.
Pei Yuchen didn't even look at the screen.
"If you ever interrupt us again," Pei Yuchen said coolly, adjusting his cufflinks without even looking up, "I'll have the finance team dock your pay."
Fu Jing froze mid-step, blinking behind his glasses.
Thank God for the fat paycheck, he thought bitterly. Because if not, I'd be out of a job and possibly traumatized by whatever I just walked into.
He plastered a polite smile, "Understood, Chairman Pei," all while silently plotting how to avoid any future "interruptions."
Back inside the office, Shen Qiqi sat still on the couch, fingers toying with the seam of a throw pillow, lips still tingling.
The door had barely clicked shut and yet the warmth Pei Yuchen left behind lingered like the scent of sandalwood and coffee—rich, grounding, and unmistakably him. Qiqi exhaled softly, bringing his knees up to his chest, a giddy sort of ache blooming in his chest.
That word—mine—kept echoing in his mind.
Mine.
It wasn't said with dominance. It wasn't claimed like property. It was spoken like a promise.
He buried his face in his knees for a moment, hiding the soft scream caught in his throat. Get a grip, Shen Qiqi, he scolded himself. You just got kissed breathless in the office of the most powerful man in the city—and now you're sitting here like a schoolgirl who got a note passed to her in class.
But even knowing that, he couldn't stop the curl of a smile tugging at his lips.
The next few minutes passed in relative silence, broken only by the occasional clink of a cup or the distant hum of the city far below. A few staff members passed by the outer hallway, and Qiqi could hear the soft shuffle of their steps. But no one came in. No one disturbed him.
It felt... strange. Not in a bad way—just new.
To be trusted in a space like this. To be welcomed, unsupervised, into a room that no one else could enter without permission.
He stood slowly and wandered toward the massive window that lined the office wall. The city stretched far below, glittering and alive, but distant—as if none of it could touch him here.
Behind him, the desk remained just as Yuchen had left it—papers neatly arranged, pens aligned, one drawer slightly ajar where he'd clearly pulled something out in a rush.
Qiqi's eyes caught on the picture frame sitting at the far edge of the desk.
He walked over and picked it up.
It was a candid photo. Blurry, almost. Pei Yuchen, in a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, sitting at the edge of a patio table. The light was golden—sunset, maybe. And sitting in his lap, curled into his chest, was... Qiqi.
Qiqi blinked.
Wait— he remembered this.
It had been just a few days after the registration. One of the rare evenings they spent on the balcony, talking about nothing in particular. At one point, he had leaned against Yuchen and dozed off. Someone must've taken the photo.
He stared at the frame for a long moment. His fingers trembled slightly as he placed it back.
A part of him ached—quietly, insistently.
Because in a place like this, where power and politics ruled, that kind of softness felt... rare. Endangered.
Like it could be taken away at any moment.
A knock came at the door again—gentler this time. No blunders. No interruptions.
It was the butler, Mr. Lin. "Mr. Shen, would you like anything while you wait? A drink? Tea?"
Qiqi shook his head politely. "No, thank you. I'm okay."
"Very well. Chairman Pei's meeting should conclude shortly."
He nodded and watched the door close again.
He leaned back into the couch, hands in his lap.
And then—he reached for his phone.
Qiqi:
You're terrifying in meetings, you know that?
There was no reply for a moment.
And then:
Pei Yuchen:
Good. Keeps people from wasting my time.
Qiqi:
I think you made one of the board members cry.
Pei Yuchen:
He deserved it.
Qiqi laughed under his breath.
Qiqi:
I'm not afraid of you, though.
Pei Yuchen:
I know.
That's what makes you dangerous.
Half an hour passed before the door opened again—and Pei Yuchen returned, this time without the sharp edges.
His jacket was off, his tie gone. His hair slightly mussed from running his hand through it. He looked exhausted. And yet, the moment his eyes landed on Qiqi curled up on the couch—he smiled.
Not the sharp, diplomatic smile he wore in meetings.
A real one. Quiet. Warm.
Qiqi stood quickly. "You're done?"
Yuchen nodded. "For today." He crossed the room with long strides and wrapped an arm around Qiqi's waist, pulling him close. "Come home with me."
Qiqi blinked. "Aren't we already—?"
Pei Yuchen leaned down, lips brushing his temple. "I meant it in every way that matters."
And Qiqi, heart thudding, let himself be pulled close again, his hands slipping up to rest against the steady rhythm of Yuchen's heart.