Afternoon.
The breeze was soft, the sun just right. Golden light spilled across the whole estate, wrapping it in a coat of shadows and shine.
Servants moved about the grounds, quiet and proper, each busy with their own work. Only one person stood out—a young man under the half-round stone pavilion in the garden, scratching his head as he sipped tea, clearly unable to sit still.
Every so often, he snuck a glance at the long-haired beauty across from him, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t dare break the silence. Instead, he made little noises, hoping to draw some attention his way.
The beauty had long silver hair, eyes as blue as the sea, carrying an air of elegance and pride. By his side sat a cup of flower tea that had long gone cold. He was completely absorbed in a book, his slender fingers flipping the pages now and then, the faint rustle filling the air.
The young man had tried earlier to peek at what exactly was so captivating, but the strange script, neat and flowing across the pages, was something he couldn’t make out at all.
Black cover, old golden trim, and even the pages were yellowed with age.
That’s how the young man judged it—an antique book. His gaze drifted upward, from those page-turning fingers to the reader’s face. The man’s silver hair gleamed under the sun, his features sharp and almost too pretty, his eyes lowered in quiet focus. The sunlight painted his lashes and his flawless face in gold, and behind him, white roses hung in full bloom. At a glance, he looked even more breathtaking than the flowers, almost too perfect to be real.
The bored young man quickly looked away. He whispered to himself three times in silence—‘this is an alpha’—before finally calming down.
Pouring himself another cup of flower tea, he downed it in one go. He’d drunk so much that he accidentally let out a loud burp.
That finally earned him a side glance. The silver-haired man lifted his eyes for the briefest moment, his blue gaze drifting lazily his way.
Brows faintly furrowed—clearly displeased.
This was no delicate omega who needed care. And yet, under that brief look, guilt hit him like he’d just disturbed something sacred. Wait a second—hadn’t he stared at this same face for years already? Why was he still not sick of it?!
The young man cursed silently inside, but on the outside, he kept a polite smile. Lifting his teacup a little, he gave a sheepish grin. “Drank too much, that’s all.”
The alpha looked once, then dropped his gaze back to the book.
The young man, after all that effort to get a reaction, couldn’t help himself. “Ji Chenxi, come on, really? You’re still reading? What’s so damn good about that book that you don’t even notice there’s someone sitting right across from you?”
The man named Ji Chenxi raised a brow, a faint spark lighting up his blue eyes. “Didn’t I tell you earlier I had things to do? If you’re bored, why don’t you just—”
“No, no, don’t.” The young man cut in fast. “I came all the way here just to see our Third Prince. Leaving a beauty like you alone while I go play? My conscience wouldn’t let me.”
His cheeky tone didn’t get much of a rise from Ji Chenxi. All he got was one flat reply: “Then be quiet.”
…Fine. Quiet it is.
He could tell the man wasn’t in the best mood. Actually, that had been obvious the moment he stepped foot in the estate and saw him—book in hand even then. It was the same book, just ten or so pages in back then. Now he was already near the end.
So yeah, until that book was finished, there was no chance of any real conversation. The young man’s eyes dimmed a little. What on earth was in those pages that left Ji Chenxi this unhappy?
The last few dozen pages flew by in his hands. In no time at all, the entire book had been read through.
A soft ‘thud’ broke the quiet as the heavy book was snapped shut.
The long-haired beauty’s face showed even more impatience now.
“What’s wrong? What could make our Third Prince so unhappy?” the young man asked, though he already knew the answer.
Ji Chenxi didn’t reply. His lips pressed together as he pushed the book toward the young man.
“Su Yu, take a look at this.”
Su Yu blinked, puzzled, but still picked up the black book and studied it carefully. His expression grew a little serious. That unreadable script from before hadn’t been an illusion—he really had never seen such writing before.
He flipped through it quickly, then handed it back. “I wouldn’t say I’m some total idiot, but I’ve never even heard of this kind of script.”
This time Ji Chenxi actually smiled. He idly played with the book in his hand. Su Yu wasn’t the first to admit he couldn’t read it. And yet, in Ji Chenxi’s eyes, it was nothing more than a pile of nonsense written in the common tongue.
His fingertips tapped the table, restless.
The sound set Su Yu a little on edge, until finally Ji Chenxi stopped. The hand that had been toying with the book shifted, his wrist turning as he set it back down. With one hand, he opened it to the very first page, pressed two fingers along the crease, and lowered his gaze, staring hard at the words there.
Su Yu muttered inside—this guy was really starting to act like some spoiled young miss, moody and unpredictable. Before he could roll his eyes, Ji Chenxi suddenly asked, as if it were nothing:
“That one from the Chi family… his name’s Chi Zhuo, isn’t it?”
Su Yu chuckled, leaning back in his chair, settling into a lazier pose. “What’s with the question?”
“Can’t I ask?”
“It’s not that. Just a bit surprising, that’s all. You two aren’t exactly on the same path. That Chi guy… well, he’s an illegitimate kid, not exactly respectable, but he’s still the Chi family’s only heir. Barely counts as part of the circle. The problem is—he’s kind of odd. The people connected with him can’t seem to agree on what to think. It’s like…”
When his words trailed off, Ji Chenxi picked it up. “It’s like what?”
Instead of answering right away, Su Yu called a servant over and told them to brew a fresh pot of black tea, deliberately keeping Ji Chenxi waiting. Only when he caught the hint of impatience did he finally speak, his tone playful, as if telling some amusing gossip.
“It’s like they’re all scared of him. Can you imagine? A bastard son, looked down on and stuck in such an awkward position, and yet somehow, he’s got the second-gens and third-gens spooked. Funny, right?”
Ji Chenxi didn’t think it was funny. If anything, it meant that the so-called nonsense in this book… might actually be true.
But still, a smile tugged at his lips. An amused smile, layered with interest. The coldness usually carried by his silver hair and blue eyes melted away in that instant.
“What time is it now?”
“Past four in the afternoon?” Su Yu blinked, then muttered under his breath, “I’ve been sitting here waiting for you for two hours, you know.”
“That’s not the time I meant.”
“Then… April twenty-ninth? Oh right, today’s the twenty-ninth. Isn’t it your fiance’s cousin’s birthday today? She invited half the city—bet you got an invite too. Not going to show up?”
“It’s just a verbal promise between the elders. That doesn’t make him my fiance.” Ji Chenxi’s brows tightened at the mention of that so-called fiance.
“So, you’re not going?”
Normally, he definitely wouldn’t.
This so-called fiance… well, that was a long story.
Before his mother married his father, she had a childhood best friend. The two women once promised each other that if their kids turned out to be an alpha and an omega, they’d tie them together with a childhood engagement. But once one of those kids grew up to be a prince, that promise naturally couldn’t be taken seriously—especially when the Emperor himself never gave it a nod.
That kid was surnamed Bai, given name Anran. Bai Anran—an A-rank omega, about the same age as Ji Chenxi. Ever since childhood, he’d been cute and sweet as jade, and with them growing up side by side, Ji Chenxi had looked after him a lot. Because of all that, most people assumed Ji Chenxi liked him, that the so-called childhood engagement would turn into a real one.
But the truth? Ji Chenxi never felt much for Bai Anran. When they were little, sure, they were close. But as they grew older, each busy with school, the bond naturally faded.
His own attitude was simple: if Bai Anran liked him, maybe he’d give it a chance, try to build something. If not, that was fine too. Yet for some reason, in this strange book, he had turned into some pathetic “cannon-fodder top”—a control freak who bullied his fiance with arrogance and ended up dead after fighting the protagonist over a man.
That plot made no sense to him at all.
At first, Ji Chenxi wondered if maybe the “him” in the book did all those ridiculous things because he didn’t want his childhood friend ending up with someone like Chi Zhuo.
Yes—Chi Zhuo. A madman.
That was Ji Chenxi’s judgment after finishing the whole book.
The Chi Zhuo in the story shared the same background as the real one, but the difference was stark: in real life, Chi Zhuo kept himself hidden, no one knew his true depth. In the book, though, he was the ruler of an underground kingdom, a cruel lunatic, and the one and only SSS-rank alpha in the entire empire.
The only 3S alpha.
Ji Chenxi hated to admit it, but the thought stirred something in him.
And today—April 29th—was the day. The birthday banquet of Bai Xinke. And also the day when the protagonist shou and the protagonist gong first met.
The book was stuffed with absurdity, page after page of nothing but the leads chasing, pulling, teasing, and falling for each other, while everything else—the side plots, the characters—existed just to push them together. Even Bai Anran disguising himself as a beta to sneak into First Military Academy somehow felt “normal” in its context.
Ji Chenxi should’ve tossed it aside, ignored it. A book like that could never happen. But the little details of his own past with Bai Anran, the royal secrets buried in the palace, even the fact that—according to the book—he wasn’t supposed to attend this banquet tonight… suddenly, even the most ridiculous things felt dangerously possible.
He didn’t understand the obsession his “book-self” later had for Bai Anran, nor could he tell if this was fate trying to warn him early or some trap laid by someone else. What he did know was—he wanted to meet the so-called protagonist gong who, in those pages, was fated to kill him.
So Ji Chenxi finally said just one word: “Go.”
That single “go” startled Su Yu so badly he couldn’t help staring him up and down, face full of disbelief. “What? Weren’t you just saying he’s not your fiance? And now you suddenly want to show up at Bai Xinke’s birthday party? Don’t tell me you’re really going to see Bai Anran.”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Ji Chenxi closed the book with a flick, then slowly picked up his long-cold flower tea. He didn’t answer until he drained the very last sip. Only then did he smile and say, “Then don’t.”
*
Night.
The massive banquet hall blazed with light, bright as day. Guests laughed and chatted freely.
Ji Chenxi arrived late, stepping in just as the night was about to wind down. Moving low-key, he slipped into the shadows and claimed a seat on a sofa in a dim corner. He picked up a glass of champagne—whatever looked decent enough—and sipped.
Su Yu: “…”
Low-key, my ass.
The moment Ji Chenxi walked in, every gaze in the hall—subtle or blatant—landed straight on him. The only reason he made it across the room so easily was because no one could figure out what kind of mood he was in. No one dared approach without testing the waters first.
Su Yu, after making his rounds with a smile and politely blocking off everyone who tried to get near Ji Chenxi, finally plopped down next to him with a long sigh. “Being your friend is exhausting.”
Ji Chenxi chuckled. “Everyone knows I hate socializing. Even if you didn’t block them, I’d be fine.”
“Blocking’s a habit now.”
Su Yu grabbed the nearest glass of white champagne, only for it to clink lightly against another glass.
“Thanks.”
Su Yu arched a brow. “Don’t mention it.”
But Su Yu could never sit still for long. After a while, he wandered off to flirt with some pretty omega, while Ji Chenxi stayed put, lazily swirling the champagne in his glass, waiting quietly.
Chi Zhuo wasn’t the kind to show up late and rude. He’d been here early. Ji Chenxi had already locked onto him the moment he arrived. The book’s description of him matched reality—easy to spot in a crowd. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a face that stood out in all the right ways.
In the book, Chi Zhuo had accidentally drunk spiked wine, and when an omega in heat released their pheromones, the already boiling blood in his veins pushed him past reason. Overwhelmed, he ran into the protagonist shou in the garden. After a mess of flashy, steamy nonsense, he ended up force-marking him on the spot.
Ji Chenxi’s plan tonight was simple: wreck that crucial turning point—and meet this so-called protagonist gong himself.
But so far, Chi Zhuo’s behavior at the banquet was boring. Just as Ji Chenxi withdrew his gaze, he caught Su Yu watching him with a sly, knowing grin.
“Well, well. Who’s our Imperial Rose eyeing like that?”
Ji Chenxi frowned. “Don’t call me that.”
“I knew it. You came for someone, didn’t you? Don’t bother denying it. You’ve been staring at Bai Anran, haven’t you?” Su Yu said it like it was fact.
Ji Chenxi raised a brow and glanced back once more. Sure enough, Bai Anran was in the same direction as the protagonist gong.
“See?” Su Yu gave a little “tsk” and tipped his chin toward a certain spot. “That guy, chatting with Bai Xinke’s father—that’s Chi Zhuo, the one you mentioned earlier.”
Ji Chenxi lowered his gaze, took a sip of the pale-silver champagne, then lifted his eyes again—this time with interest.
Because just as Su Yu spoke, Chi Zhuo had looked over. Those eyes—carefully hidden, yet sharp with aggression.
Ji Chenxi wasn’t sure if Chi Zhuo had actually spotted him lurking in the shadows. But that look alone sent a thrill through him, excitement sparking deep in his chest.
It felt like he was being watched by a venomous snake.
Since it was a birthday party for a young heir, there were plenty of other young people around too. At first, no one was sure how to read Ji Chenxi’s mood. But once they saw Su Yu hadn’t been kicked away after hanging around so long, all his other close friends started gathering over as well. After all, Ji Chenxi showing up at a party was rare as hell—worth watching even if it was just for the spectacle.
Surrounded on all sides, Ji Chenxi: “…”
By the time the banquet was winding down, he finally managed to slip free from all those overly enthusiastic friends.
He walked off in the direction described in the book.
Most of the story had been written from Bai Anran’s point of view. It only mentioned that Bai Anran got drunk, wandered into the garden to sober up, and ran into Chi Zhuo who’d been drugged with something. But it never said exactly ‘where’ in the massive garden this all happened.
And right now, that garden looked anything but beautiful.
Ji Chenxi tugged a little at the inhibitor ring around his neck, feeling a bit restless, before casually finding a spot to sit and wait.
An alpha under the effect of drugs, no matter how careful, would still leak pheromones. All he had to do was wait.
It got boring fast, though. Ji Chenxi regretted not bringing a drink with him—sipping wine under the moon might’ve made this dull wait a bit more tolerable.
He was idly flicking at a nearby flower bud when a faint, cool trace of alcohol drifted through the air toward him.
Oh? Here we go.
Ji Chenxi rose leisurely, strolling off to meet this so-called protagonist gong, one of the few times he’d ever be caught off guard in the book.
The scent thickened as he walked closer. What had first been a refreshing, clean alcohol note was turning sharp, almost choking. He hadn’t touched tequila tonight, yet his throat already burned with a phantom sting.
Ji Chenxi had pictured all kinds of ways Chi Zhuo might appear, but he hadn’t expected this—just one step past the corner, and he was slammed hard against the wall.
Fast, ruthless, like a predator striking straight at the throat of its prey.
In that same instant, Ji Chenxi’s spiritual power had already formed a sharp spike in his hand, ready to strike back. But once he realized who it was, he held himself back.
That thick tequila-like pheromone, soaked with raw aggression, surged around him. Yet oddly enough, instead of crushing him, it wound tight—like a beast holding back its fangs, not attacking, but… almost inviting.
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
A good start☺️