When Liang Xiao cleaned himself up and delivered himself to the door again, he felt that Huo Lan’s susceptibility phase seemed to extend beyond just a bad mood.
It wasn’t just his mood—Huo Lan himself didn’t seem right.
Not only did he refuse to bite Liang Xiao, but he also wouldn’t stop staring at him.
His gaze was wary, his elbow propped against the desk, the outline of his arm muscles faintly visible under his suit. It was as if he was constantly on high alert, ready to defend himself should Liang Xiao suddenly pounce and knock his head on the desk.
Liang Xiao stood at the door, thoroughly masked, his damp hair dripping water. His entire body exuded a steamy warmth from being freshly washed. He stared at Huo Lan, who was gripping a large dry towel tightly in his left hand.
…
Liang Xiao suspected that the butler’s meticulous strategy might have had some minor, harmless flaws.
The whole process was quite a strain on the waist. With each attempt requiring full effort and exhausting his resolve, Liang Xiao wasn’t particularly keen on going through it again.
After a moment of hesitation, he cautiously stayed where he was.
Huo Lan continued to watch him intently.
For days, Liang Xiao had been preoccupied with trying to get Huo Lan to leave his mark. Now, as they unexpectedly locked eyes during this tense standoff, Liang Xiao noticed that something about Huo Lan really wasn’t right.
There were faint shadows under his eyes, a weariness etched between his brows, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three days.
His mental state was visibly poor.
Huo Lan was an odd person. Normally, he exuded a frosty aura, as though he could freeze someone with a glance. But now, visibly exhausted and unwell, his usual icy demeanor had faded, making him seem oddly approachable.
Even his pheromones, usually oppressive, were faint and subdued, emanating a strangely ethereal air, like the kind of weariness one might feel while wondering if snow had fallen on a broken bridge.
Liang Xiao stood at the door, watching as the ethereal Huo Lan gripped his towel and warily stared at him for ten whole minutes. Finally, Huo Lan’s eyelids, heavy with fatigue, drooped shut as he leaned back in his chair and fell asleep.
Huo Lan’s nap didn’t last two minutes.
The butler, anxiously waiting outside, eventually grew worried that Liang Xiao might have met his end inside. Panicked, he burst into the room.
“President Huo, Mr. Liang—”
Liang Xiao, still standing at the door, was caught off guard and smacked his head solidly against it.
Huo Lan: “…”
Liang Xiao: “…”
The butler clung to the door, trembling as he looked at the slumped figure of Liang Xiao. “Mr. Liang…”
Barely clinging to life, Liang Xiao weakly replied, “Ah.”
The butler, stunned by the eerie calm of the room, clutched his chest, torn between entering or retreating.
Huo Lan’s headache intensified. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath and said, “Leave.”
The butler quickly agreed, intending to drag the collapsed Liang Xiao out with him. But before he could act, Huo Lan walked over, reached down, and effortlessly scooped Liang Xiao up in one arm.
The butler dared not look further. He shut his eyes tightly, retreated, and closed the door behind him.
The bedroom returned to silence.
Liang Xiao had always struggled to understand the way these muscular alphas handled things. Dizzily, he sat on the sofa where Huo Lan had placed him, blinked, and looked up.
Huo Lan wasn’t looking at him.
The desk lamp behind Huo Lan cast a faint glow around him, adding a hazy halo to his figure.
The tall and imposing alpha leaned over, one hand braced on the sofa while his other reached toward the back of Liang Xiao’s head, exerting slight pressure to examine it.
Assuming Huo Lan was about to bite him, Liang Xiao helpfully exposed the nape of his neck.
Two seconds later, Huo Lan released his hand and stood up.
Liang Xiao froze, watching as Huo Lan opened the mini-fridge, took out a medium-sized ice pack, and handed it to him. Only then did he realize Huo Lan had been assessing the size of the bump on the back of his head from hitting the door earlier.
…
Liang Xiao couldn’t understand why Huo Lan kept ice packs in the fridge, but maybe it was because Huo Lan’s concussion wasn’t fully healed yet either.
The butler’s urgent rescue earlier had resulted in a hefty collision. Liang Xiao accepted the ice pack, pressing it against the bump on his head. As the pain belatedly flared up, he couldn’t help but take a sharp breath.
Huo Lan frowned and turned to leave.
Liang Xiao jumped up, one hand holding the ice pack while the other reached out to stop him.
Huo Lan turned back.
Liang Xiao removed his mask, ready to speak, but then realized that his earlier pained “ah” might have already cost him 100,000 yuan. He bit his tongue and stopped himself.
Huo Lan looked at him.
Liang Xiao kept his mouth shut.
“…” Huo Lan closed his eyes briefly. “That one doesn’t count.”
Liang Xiao responded immediately, “No need to call a doctor.”
Huo Lan, who had personally felt the size of the bump, still seemed uncertain, his brows furrowing slightly.
Liang Xiao kept his mouth shut.
Huo Lan: “…”
Huo Lan: “That one doesn’t count either.”
“It’s not that,” Liang Xiao exhaled and quickly blurted out, “When I was little, I didn’t sleep well, and I already had a bump on the back of my head.”
For reasons unknown, certain traditions involve flattening a baby’s head while they sleep. Back when Liang Xiao lacked the linguistic skills to protest, he resorted to physical resistance instead.
However, his resistance wasn’t entirely successful.
The bump was hidden beneath his hair and usually unnoticeable, but it could be felt when touched.
The door’s earlier collision had landed squarely on that spot.
Huo Lan, who had received elite education since childhood, seemed to struggle with understanding such traditions. He scrutinized Liang Xiao for a moment, cautiously avoided delving into unfamiliar territory, and refrained from further questioning.
Having already gained the upper hand in two exchanges, Liang Xiao knew better than to push his luck. Exercising great restraint, he closed his mouth and returned to the sofa.
This brief interaction was enough to fully awaken Huo Lan. The faint gentleness lingering in the air from earlier vanished entirely, replaced by the sharp chill of his reactivated demeanor, as his ice-cold pheromones enveloped the room.
Liang Xiao shivered involuntarily, suddenly reminded of his purpose. He reached out to grab Huo Lan’s arm and pointed to his own neck.
Huo Lan’s breath hitched.
The gesture itself was perfectly normal, but the repeated incidents over the past few days had left a deep psychological imprint on Huo Lan. His gaze swept over Liang Xiao’s neck, and the slight relief he’d felt just moments ago was replaced by a sharp twinge in his temples.
Already plagued by insomnia and persistent irritability, Huo Lan’s patience had been wearing thin. Pressing his fingers to his temples, he forced himself to remain calm, closed his eyes, and said, “No need. You can go.”
Liang Xiao kept his mouth shut.
Huo Lan waited for a while, then opened his eyes again.
Liang Xiao mimed a giant question mark in the air.
“…” Huo Lan finally explained, “No more emergency marking for now.”
Liang Xiao: “!!”
Huo Lan watched, numb, as Liang Xiao bent down in an exaggeratedly diligent manner to tap out the second exclamation mark with imaginary precision. He felt as though he might already be dead inside. “I’m using suppressants.”
The situation had never been this severe before, and he’d never needed to resort to injectable suppressants.
He’d heard they were significantly more effective than spray suppressants, though they came with more side effects. Still, they reduced the need for emergency marking—a preferable alternative to dying of frustration.
Liang Xiao had tried to talk him out of it once but, seeing Huo Lan’s icy resolve and the faint frost practically hanging in his brow, could only sigh regretfully.
Huo Lan, knowing exactly what Liang Xiao regretted, gave him a frosty glance. “Just come as scheduled. The money will be paid as usual.”
Liang Xiao’s eyes lit up so brightly he nearly gave himself away. Reminding himself that he was technically benefiting from this, he forced his mouth into a neutral line, suppressing his excitement, and wrote a response in the air: Not appropriate.
Huo Lan no longer believed in Liang Xiao’s pretense of decency. Without bothering to explain, he waved away the air-written words and opened the door for him.
—
“Say that again,” Duan Ming said, stunned. “Huo Lan doesn’t bite you?”
Liang Xiao nodded.
“And he still lets you go upstairs?”
After a brief pause, Liang Xiao nodded again.
“And… he pays you?”
Liang Xiao hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
They were still on set, so their voices were carefully hushed, yet Liang Xiao could distinctly hear the question marks and exclamation points emanating from his manager’s whispered barrage.
To be honest, Liang Xiao hadn’t fully figured it out either. He’d wanted to ask for clarification, but the pay really wasn’t worth that many words: “Yes.”
Duan Ming checked the incoming payments, utterly baffled. “Meal allowances are still being paid.”
“…” Liang Xiao: “Yes.”
Duan Ming frowned, deeply concerned. “Is Huo Lan actually suffering brain damage?”
…
One was an omega, and the other a beta—neither of them had a thorough understanding of alpha physiology. After much deliberation, they were no closer to an answer. They eventually resorted to flipping through a deluxe edition of The Encyclopedia of Contemporary Medical Knowledge.
After two pages, Su Man, fresh from finishing a fight scene, strolled over in high spirits, her dress swishing. “Liang Xiao?”
She had a packed shooting schedule today and had already filmed three scenes. In a couple of days, her character would be swindled out of money by Yun Lian. Planning to rehearse the scenes with Liang Xiao, she stopped short when she saw the hefty tome in his hands. Curious, she asked, “What are you reading?”
Liang Xiao showed her the cover, looking up with a smile. “Sister Man.”
Su Man, uninterested in medicine, waved it off and casually plopped into a seat, tossing him a bottle of water as she did.
Duan Ming: “…”
Su Man was Xingguan’s top actress, twenty-six years old, and seven years into her career. With her stunning looks and incredible physique, she had dominated roles in both historical and modern dramas—typically as heroines who needed to smash people into the ground.
Even now, the famous alpha actress was single. Recently, a male star had overestimated himself by attempting to stir up a fake relationship with her. He’d tried to use the red carpet as an excuse to hold her arm, only for Su Man to drag him by the arm all the way into the award ceremony venue.
Worried about Liang Xiao’s physical safety, Duan Ming subtly pulled him back a little, flashing Su Man a polite smile. “Ms. Su, isn’t your next scene with Teacher Jiang…?”
“It’s his susceptibility period,” Su Man replied, unable to wear lipstick as she downed two gulps of water. “He can’t shoot back-to-back, so they’re adjusting the schedule.”
Liang Xiao, curious, twisted open the water bottle. “Does a susceptibility period make you tired?”
“It makes you cry,” Su Man replied matter-of-factly.
Liang Xiao choked on his water.
Their scene was a fight where lovers turned against each other. Su Man had accidentally made Jiang Pingchao cry during filming, and now the poor man had retreated to his hotel, where his omega manager was undoubtedly trying to coax him back to normal.
“It doesn’t depend on personality or temperament,” Su Man added. Realizing Liang Xiao was also single and likely unaware of these nuances, she kindly refrained from being too explicit. “During an alpha’s susceptibility period, their pheromones are highly active, making them emotionally sensitive, lacking a sense of security, and more reliant on omega… comfort.”
For instance, Jiang Pingchao, usually aloof and arrogant, showing disdain to everyone but veteran directors, was probably crying while clinging to his omega right now, engaging in some unspeakable activities.
Having lived a pure and single life for twenty-six years, Liang Xiao was oblivious to the near-miss innuendo and simply nodded in understanding. “I see.”
Su Man nodded, about to rehearse lines with him, when her assistant suddenly ran over, panting, to inform her that the directors had finalized the rescheduled scenes and needed her to confirm.
Priorities were priorities. Their scene could wait, so Su Man grabbed her script, bid him farewell, and rushed off, her work ethic as impressive as her efficiency.
Liang Xiao watched her leave with admiration, saluting her achievements in his heart. Then he turned back to Duan Ming. “Brother Duan?”
“Maybe it’s because of this.”
Duan Ming, equally single since birth and a clueless beta, mulled it over for a long while before whispering, “Huo Lan doesn’t want to mark you but can’t seem to let you go either.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
That sounded even worse.
Duan Ming, worried that Liang Xiao might overthink things, specifically emphasized, “Ms. Su also said it has nothing to do with personality or temperament.”
It was probably similar to an omega’s estrus period—a common, uncontrollable physiological rule that existed universally for alphas.
“Then just follow through.” Duan Ming whispered his advice, “Be a little nicer to Huo Lan, don’t keep aggravating him.”
After all, Liang Xiao had significant fixed expenses and couldn’t afford to keep earning money haphazardly like this. Before he found a breakthrough in his acting career, Huo Lan’s financial support remained an extremely important and steady income stream.
As a manager, Duan Ming was constantly worried—he feared Huo Lan might continue “marking” Liang Xiao indefinitely, but he also feared that if Huo Lan was angered, he would stop, and the entire situation would become an unpredictable mess, causing him to age prematurely.
Liang Xiao, feeling confused, asked, “When did I ever anger him?”
Duan Ming pressed his forehead, thinking, You’ve probably been aggravating him all along, and sighed, “Forget I said anything.”
Liang Xiao wasn’t overthinking it as much as Duan Ming was. After reflecting for a moment, he recalled the last time Huo Lan had seemed off, and it dawned on him that it had likely been due to his susceptibility period.
No wonder Huo Lan had been out of sorts, lacking energy and unable to sleep properly.
He hadn’t expected someone like Huo Lan—an alpha capable of lifting him with one hand—to also suffer from insecurity.
“Alright then.”
Liang Xiao, unaware of Huo Lan’s complicated history with the stapler, suddenly felt a strong sense of responsibility. He patted Duan Ming’s shoulder with newfound confidence. “Leave it to me. I’ll make sure to comfort Huo Lan properly.”
![After losing all his wealth, the ancestor rose from his coffin [BL]](https://www.freenovels.net/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/Your-paragraph-text-1.png "After losing all his wealth, the ancestor rose from his coffin [BL]")
