Ss: [The door downstairs isn’t locked. Come on up ^^]
Shi Qi saw the message and nodded.
Shang Sui thought he would come in through the front door and walk up the spiral staircase. But Shi Qi slipped his phone into his pocket and instead began climbing directly from the ground floor.
Compared to when he was younger, Shi Qi had grown taller. His long, slender legs stepped onto the first-floor windowsill, and he smoothly used footholds along the building’s structure to climb up to the second floor.
Shang Sui couldn’t help but walk to the balcony.
Shi Qi’s figure briefly disappeared from view. Afraid he might fall, Shang Sui leaned over to look down, only to hear a faint sound behind him.
Behind him, ten fingers gripped the edge of the balcony, like a cat’s paws, and then pushed up with force.
Just like six years ago, Shi Qi landed lightly beside him.
The scene before him overlapped with the memory—except this time, the once undifferentiated boy had become an Omega. His features had shed their childishness, becoming more refined, so beautiful that it was almost androgynous.
Shi Qi dusted off his hands and looked at him. “What are you doing all alone?”
—What are you doing all alone.
Shang Sui’s fingers curled slightly, unknowingly digging into his palm.
He smiled and replied, “I was waiting for you.”
From the very first day we met, I’ve been waiting for you.
If it were before, Shi Qi would have thought nothing of this as a simple comment, but now, he understood the deeper meaning in Shang Sui’s words.
He opened his mouth to speak, but just as he was about to say something, Shang Sui’s phone lit up.
Shi Qi gestured. “Looks like someone’s looking for you.”
Shang Sui glanced at the screen. It was a call from Jiang Yan.
After finding out Shang Sui was in Qijiang, Jiang Yan had immediately announced that he’d landed at the capital’s airport. He’d moved so quickly that Shang Sui suspected he’d booked his ticket in advance. Now, he had somehow arrived in Qijiang at miraculous speed.
“It’s Jiang Yan,” Shang Sui said to Shi Qi, then put the call on speaker.
“I just landed. Where are you?” Jiang Yan’s voice came from the other end, cheerful with a trace of anxiety. “Can I crash at your place tonight?”
Shang Sui was about to say “no” when Jiang Yan preemptively asked, “Is Shen Qianyu also in Qijiang?”
Shi Qi raised his eyebrows slightly, pointed at the phone, and gave a thumbs-up.
Shang Sui guessed Shi Qi meant to say that Jiang Yan had come at the right time.
So Shang Sui went along and said, “Yeah, are you going to see him?”
Jiang Yan seemed to have found someone to confide in and immediately retorted, “See him? What for? Do you know how ridiculous he is? He said he’s liked me for five or six years.”
“Isn’t that basically since not long after we met? Who knows what he’s been thinking. I always thought we were just friends.”
The more Jiang Yan spoke, the more worked up he got. It was hard to tell if he was happy or upset. “It’s like something out of a novel. The last time I heard of someone being missed this long, it was your white moonlight.”
What?
Shi Qi’s expression changed, and Shang Sui also froze.
Before Shang Sui could react, Shi Qi snatched the phone from his hand. “What white moonlight?”
Jiang Yan cheerfully greeted him, “Shi Qi’s there too? Hello, hello.”
A moment later, he suddenly realized something was wrong. “Ahhhh!! I’m sorry!!!!”
There was a burst of clattering noise on the other end of the line—Jiang Yan seemed to have been so startled that he dropped his phone.
Shi Qi asked again, “What white moonlight?”
Jiang Yan wished he could turn back time. He had already made Shi Qi upset a few times before by failing to hold his tongue. He’d thought they were finally getting closer, only to accidentally say the wrong thing again.
It’s over, it’s over, it’s over!
And this time wasn’t even on the same level as before. If someone found out their boyfriend had been hung up on someone else for six years, who wouldn’t be furious!
“Jiang Yan?”
Even through the phone, the Omega’s cool, indifferent voice carried an unmistakable sense of pressure.
Jiang Yan shuddered and confessed meekly, “Right, so, Shang Sui had this ‘white moonlight’ that everyone knew about, but that was just a joke! They haven’t been in contact for years, I swear he’s been completely loyal to you!”
“He met that person when he was, like, seventeen or eighteen, still underage. Just think, if he’d met you back then, none of this would’ve happened, haha!”
Shi Qi asked quietly, “Has he remembered all this time?”
“Uh, yeah, but Shang Sui didn’t know any better back then! It doesn’t mean anything!”
Seeing that Shi Qi was silent, Jiang Yan grew more and more desperate. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything! Please, just forget I ever mentioned it!”
Shi Qi’s tone was unreadable. “But I can’t forget.”
He thought for a moment and added, “I’ll send you the address in a bit. Just head over tonight.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
Jiang Yan assumed he’d made Shi Qi furious and wanted to split from Shang Sui.
And imagining that tonight would mean just him and Shang Sui, two lonely souls stuck in the same house, and that one of them probably wouldn’t make it out alive, Jiang Yan choked out a reply, “…You’re welcome.”
Shi Qi hung up. “What’s Shen Qianyu’s address?”
Shang Sui’s mind was a mess. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know where to begin explaining. All he could do was pull up Shen Qianyu’s address.
Shi Qi forwarded the address to Jiang Yan without hesitation, then returned the phone to Shang Sui and turned to leave.
“Wait, Xiao Qi!”
Without even looking back, Shi Qi climbed down over the balcony. Shang Sui panicked and quickly followed, jumping down from the second floor.
Shi Qi walked briskly into the sea of Endless Summer flowers, about to disappear from sight.
Shang Sui stepped forward and grabbed his wrist. “Listen to me, it’s not like that—”
Shi Qi stopped walking, his back still to him. “Not like what? You haven’t spent six years hung up on someone? Haven’t been unable to let go of the past?”
“I did…” Shang Sui suddenly realized something was off. “How did you know it was six years?”
Shi Qi turned around.
In the distance, the setting sun slowly sank, its radiant hues spilling into his dark gray eyes.
“It was me, wasn’t it?” Shi Qi said. “Your white moonlight.”
After playing his little trick, he got what he wanted: Shang Sui was left stunned.
The corners of Shi Qi’s lips rose uncontrollably, feeling both happy and a pang of sorrow for him.
Until now, he could finally understand the unspoken meaning behind Shang Sui’s words. “That day we made our relationship official, you said you’d waited so long you thought you couldn’t wait anymore.”
“Most people don’t think about separation when they confess, but you said, ‘Don’t leave again.’”
After he had forgotten everything, the other person silently guarded the memories between them.
Or rather, Shang Sui had always been trapped in that summer.
“You’ve been waiting for me since you were seventeen.”
Shang Sui was silent for a long time, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “You remember everything?”
“Some of it, bit by bit. Not completely.”
Just as Shi Qi thought Shang Sui would be happy that he remembered, Shang Sui instead said, “I’m sorry.”
“Back then, I lost control during my rut. I accidentally marked you and caused you a lot of trouble.”
Marked?
Shi Qi almost thought he’d misheard.
The weight of those memories had been suppressed for so long that Shang Sui didn’t even notice his reaction. Caught in a haze, he recalled, “The day my rut ended, I went to find you.”
“Your family was renting a place. The landlord said you all left in a hurry that night. I couldn’t reach you by phone. And…” Shang Sui seemed to want to say more, but only added, “It was my fault.”
Later, when Yu Wan learned that his relationship with Shi Qi had been special, she’d suggested they look into it and find a way to make contact again, but such a method would more or less invade privacy.
He’d already done wrong. He couldn’t trouble Shi Qi any further or cling to him like a lunatic.
Even though he’d desperately wanted to see him again, in the end, he forced himself to suppress the thought.
“Wait,” Shi Qi interrupted. “You didn’t mark me.”
“What…?” Shang Sui met his gaze, and after a moment, realized there might be some misunderstanding. He hurriedly said, “My memories during ruts are always fragmented, but I remember I wanted to mark you.”
“I regained consciousness for a moment and saw you clutching your neck. Later, I asked the bodyguards, and they said you seemed unwell.”
Shi Qi finally understood why Shang Sui had never reached out to him.
From Shang Sui’s perspective, Shi Qi had been hurt during his rut, had been frightened and fled in a panic—of course he felt he no longer had the right to disturb him.
“I differentiated that night,” Shi Qi said directly. “We left in a rush, not because of you, but because I got sick. That night, I lost my memory and forgot everything that happened in Qijiang.”
And I was forced to forget you.
He had always planned to wait for the right moment to tell Shang Sui about his condition. But now that the time had come, Shi Qi said it naturally, “I’ve never told you before, but I have glandular degeneration.”
“You mean, it wasn’t because of me that you…?” It was all too unbelievable. Shang Sui repeated under his breath, “Glandular degeneration?”
He had never heard of such a condition, and immediately asked, “What kind of illness is that? Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
“It’s nothing serious for now.”
Seeing the faint crease between Shang Sui’s brows, as if he still couldn’t feel at ease, Shi Qi added, “I met with Shen Qianyu not long ago. He guessed I had glandular degeneration, which caused the memory loss during my differentiation.”
“He prescribed some medication. Combined with exposure to the pheromone I encountered during differentiation, it can gradually help recover my memory.”
Looking back now, Shen Qianyu had probably long suspected that Shang Sui was the trigger for his differentiation.
Everything circled back to the summer six years ago, like fate completing its loop.
“He said I don’t have any immediate issues.”
Shen Qianyu had assured him there was nothing to worry about, and there was no risk of complications for now.
Only then did Shang Sui finally seem to relax slightly. Shi Qi brought the conversation back, “Even though my memory isn’t complete right now, I’ve never once heard my family mention that anyone marked me, and when I got home, there were no injuries on my body either.”
When Shang Sui couldn’t seem to form a reply, Shi Qi took the initiative and clasped his hand in return. Word by word, he said, “And even if you had marked me, I wouldn’t be angry.”
“To me, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Having finally spoken the words that had weighed on his heart for so long, Shi Qi added jokingly, “Your only mistake, probably, was not daring to come find me. But since you waited six years, I’ll forgive you.”
“Xiao Qi…”
He hadn’t expected that Shang Sui’s eyes would slowly redden, and he called out his name, voice trembling.
“I’m sorry, I…” Shang Sui’s thoughts were a mess. He stammered, “I wasn’t brave enough. I should’ve tried to reach you. Even if you hated me… No, you didn’t hate me… I didn’t do well enough. You got sick. You had no choice. I should’ve taken the initiative. Then maybe we wouldn’t have been apart for six years—”
Seeing that the emotion was overwhelming him, Shi Qi let go of his hand. When Shang Sui looked at him in confusion, Shi Qi pulled him into an embrace.
“It’s not like that.”
Shi Qi spoke with steady resolve.
To calm him down, Shi Qi released a trace of his pheromone, and the fresh, gentle scent of lily of the valley drifted like a breeze, cutting through the restless anxiety and surrounding the Alpha completely.
Shang Sui immediately hugged him back, once again thinking of the beautiful meaning behind the lily of the valley.
The return of happiness.
His arms tightened around Shi Qi, the force growing stronger and stronger. As if only by holding him this close, pressing him into his very being, could he be sure that the person in his arms truly belonged to him.
Shi Qi let him hold on and continued, “What’s good and what’s bad—no one else can define that for your life. No one requires you to do everything perfectly and flawlessly. So just be yourself.”
“If back then you believed you shouldn’t come to see me, then it was right not to.”
The setting sun seemed to burn in Shi Qi’s crystal-clear eyes. Whether it was his words or the expression on his face, all of it radiated an unstoppable determination.
“One day, we were always going to meet again.”
Shang Sui held him close, arms trembling involuntarily, drawing once more the courage he had always lacked from the soul he now leaned on.
The past had brought him immense suffering. Before meeting Shi Qi, he had never dared to truly accept his abnormality.
Compared to most people, he possessed an unusual strength, but he knew deep down he was a coward. Shi Qi had always been far braver than he was.
He had played out the scene in his mind countless times, rehearsing how he might confess and imagining how Shi Qi would react if he ever learned the truth about the past.
But now that the day had truly come, it was even better than the best scenario he had ever dared to imagine.
He had been forgiven for his past. And the one who had once saved him had reached out to him once more.
Shang Sui trembled all over, and finally couldn’t help but ask, “Can I kiss you?”
Shi Qi tilted his head up and touched his lips first.
They kissed amidst the riotous sea of blooming Endless Summer hydrangeas. Shang Sui gently held his lips, brushing against them, murmuring between kisses.
“I’m so lucky to have met you.”
The way he said it was so earnest that Shi Qi couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course.”
“Meeting me isn’t easy. And you managed to do it twice—your luck’s not bad at all.”
Shang Sui was captivated by that haughty expression. He cupped Shi Qi’s face and leaned down for another kiss.
But this one was nothing like the gentle one before. The Alpha’s actions were rough and unrestrained, as if he wanted to devour him whole.
“Mm…!”
Shi Qi was bitten several times, feeling both pain and numbness. The other man’s intense emotions were laid bare through the kiss, so much so that even the slight sting gave rise to a strange sense of pleasure.
It felt like Shang Sui was so in love with him, he was about to lose his mind.
Realizing this, Shi Qi’s eyes curved with a smile. A voice deep in his heart let out a satisfied sigh.
It should be like this.
If he goes crazy because of me, all the better.
Unrestrained, he bit back. His sharp canines accidentally broke the skin on Shang Sui’s lip, and the taste of sweet blood followed immediately.
Before Shi Qi could even feel a flicker of guilt, Shang Sui only seemed more excited. The hand that had been resting at his waist slid upward. Unlike the earlier trembling, those long fingers now locked firmly behind Shi Qi’s head, trapping the Omega in a space so small he couldn’t escape.
A soft sound escaped Shi Qi’s lips. It was hard to tell if it came from pain or pleasure.
Realizing he had been too rough, Shang Sui began to atone. He gently licked the places he had bitten, tongue dragging with a sticky wetness as he sucked on Shi Qi’s lips.
The faint scent of honey gradually grew stronger, and Shi Qi started to feel hot all over.
Was it because Shang Sui had gotten too excited and released a large amount of pheromones?
…
No.
Shi Qi realized a moment too late that it wasn’t that Shang Sui had released his pheromones. It was that he had become unusually sensitive to the scent of them.
His body’s reaction was escalating. Certain places were even beginning to feel wet.
Shi Qi could barely stand upright. “Wait, I think I…!”
The Alpha wouldn’t stop clinging to him, and Shi Qi couldn’t even speak clearly. He could only push him away, and only then did Shang Sui finally snap out of it.
“Hmm…?”
He had been kissing him like he’d found the taste addictive, completely unwilling to separate. Even after being forced to stop, he lifted his eyes to look at Shi Qi, his face still full of desire.
Seeing Shang Sui like this made Shi Qi’s heart skip a beat.
If he hadn’t confirmed that Shang Sui’s pheromones were in a stable state, Shi Qi would’ve thought he had entered a rut.
Shi Qi said softly, “I’m in heat.”
The Alpha seemed to have forgotten all basic biological knowledge and repeated, “Heat?”
“…”
Hearing those words from him for some reason made Shi Qi flush all over. He muttered under his breath, “Are you an idiot?”
Compared to him, it was Shang Sui who looked like he was the one in heat, like his brain had completely melted.
Just as Shi Qi was grumbling, the Alpha finally seemed to understand what those words actually meant. He looked over, eyes filled with undisguised adoration.
“Xiao Qi, baby, sweetheart.”
He called out one pet name after another. Shi Qi couldn’t take it, and his face gradually turned red.
“I like you so much, I’m going crazy.”
Shang Sui leaned in closer and murmured in a sticky-sweet voice, “I want to make love to you.”
