“I have never given anyone a name.”
It was far from the answer Luo Congye had hoped for, and that rare trace of gentleness vanished from Bai Heting’s face along with it.
Luo Congye’s tightly clenched fingers gradually lost their strength.
He shouldn’t have held onto any illusions.
Today, Bai Heting had specifically asked about his age, giving him the illusion that he was still remembered. He had left Bai Heting’s mansion when he was fifteen; in the nine years prior to that, Bai Heting had returned a total of eleven times.
Eleven times, he remembered the number with absolute clarity. Each time, he arrived full of eager expectation, only to leave disappointed once again.
Not once had Bai Heting ever sought him out on his own initiative.
Luo Congye dropped the previous topic, his voice lowering a few notches: “I’ll take you back to the camp.”
Bai Heting exerted himself to raise his right hand: “Don’t.”
He had pushed his unfit-for-travel body to come to the hunting grounds just to prove to Bai Yi that he still had the ability to serve the king like an Alpha. He absolutely could not let anyone see him in this disheveled state by losing control during his estrus.
Luo Congye looked down at the hand resting on his arm. It was beautiful and bony, and its slender fingers and black leather fingerstalls were entirely covered in blood; the clotted blood had been melted by sweat, staining his sleeve.
He stood frozen like a block of wood, so Bai Heting had no choice but to make it explicit, “Help me up.”
Luo Congye snapped back to reality, letting Bai Heting lean on his left arm for leverage, and slowly stood up with him.
Bai Heting turned his head to look into the distance. Before he could speak, Luo Congye had already whistled to call his mount to his side.
Bai Heting shot him a glance. This time, he didn’t ask for assistance. Bracing his right arm against the horse’s back and planting his left foot in the stirrup, he hauled himself into the saddle with visible effort.
He rested on the horseback for a few minutes before giving another command, “Find a river.”
Luo Congye looked down at the hands that couldn’t even hold the reins steadily. The fir pheromone was even stronger than before, and for some reason, the inhibitor shot he had given him hadn’t taken effect. He pondered for a few seconds and reminded Bai Heting, “You need a physician.”
“Cut the crap.” Feeling irritable, Bai Heting knit his brows.
No one needed to tell him that. The entire hunting grounds had only one physician, stationed in the king’s main tent. It wasn’t his first time going through an estrus fever without inhibitors; all he could do was grit his teeth and wait for it to pass.
“Go leave a message for Qiu Chen.” His voice was so low and hoarse it was almost inaudible, and he had to stop and rest after every sentence. Readjusting his breathing, he continued to instruct, “Just say I’m safe.”
Luo Congye walked a short distance away and used the blood of a corpse to write a message on a nearby rock before making his way back. He moved with deliberate slowness, step by step, until he finally came to a stop beside the horse’s hind leg. He took off Bai Heting’s bow case and quiver, hanging them from his own waist, then pressed one hand against the horse’s back and vaulted up.
Bai Heting shuddered in his grogginess.
The Alpha’s rock-hard chest pressed against his back but pulled away the instant they made contact.
“This subordinate begs your pardon.” Luo Congye shifted his body back a bit to maintain a distance from the person in front of him before reaching his hands past the other man’s narrow waist to grasp the reins.
The Omega’s head hung very low, leaving the gland; swollen and red from the estrus, completely exposed and defenseless right before his eyes. Luo Congye’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he averted his gaze.
Feeling his way through the dim darkness, he searched for a route ahead and said in a low voice, “Hold on tight.”
*
A crescent moon hung high in the sky. Standing waist-deep in the untamed river, Luo Congye lifted a hand and wiped the water from his face.
The river was icy cold, stripping the blood from his hunting clothes and easing the heat raging through his body, if only slightly.
An Omega’s pheromones during estrus were a natural aphrodisiac for an Alpha. The scent of fir permeating the air was no longer crisp and clear; instead, it had become rich, sweet, and cloying.
Luo Congye didn’t even dare to breathe heavily as he looked back toward the Omega upstream.
This person’s nobility had nothing to do with his title or military rank; it was something born in his blood—an innate, all-disdaining indifference. When they first met, Bai Heting was only fourteen years old, and the first thing he said to him was, “Do you want to live?”
Even though he was young back then, he could still tell that this youth belonged to the same group as those people.
But he was the only lifesaving straw he could grasp.
The glint of a blade disappeared in an instant. The youth had used a dagger to cut his companion’s throat, then, before he could recover from his shock, swept the candlestick to the ground.
The air quickly filled with searing, pungent, thick smoke. Before more people could arrive, the youth brought him along and fled to a knoll a few hundred meters away from his home. Standing right next to the old tree he used to climb often in his childhood, he watched with his own eyes as the hideous, raging fire devoured the house where he and his mother had lived together for six years.
The blazing fire was reflected in the youth’s eyes, his thoughts seemingly drifting off to a very distant place.
Only after a long while did he speak for the second time.
“Forget your old name.” The youth paused briefly, his tone calm as he said, “From this day on, you are Luo Congye.”
