Chapter 17

Being held so tenderly in someone's arms stirred a surge of helplessness within Ling Ran’s heart. Yet, he sniffled quietly and said nothing.

Perhaps it was the intermittent fevers over the past few days—rising, then falling—that had truly muddled his mind.

He knew he wasn’t clever; often slow to react, even somewhat clumsy.

As an Omega, he was born with a fragile appearance that begged for a partner’s care. He tried to appear strong, but the moment someone held him close and gently asked a question, the tough exterior—like a clam’s shell—would crack, revealing the soft, delicate flesh beneath.

Jiang Zhiyu looked down at the pitiful expression on the face in his arms and could easily surmise what had transpired.

Nearby, Zhao Qin had already driven over in a black Rolls-Royce, water splashing in ripples at the foot of the steps.

Zhao Qin opened an umbrella and climbed the stairs. Upon seeing Jiang Zhiyu holding Ling Ran, he was no longer surprised, silently holding the large black umbrella steadily over them.

Jiang Zhiyu carried Ling Ran into the car.

Once the door shut, Ling Ran curled up in the leather seat, his cheeks flushed even redder than before, eyes shimmering with tears as he shyly glanced at the man beside him.

Jiang Zhiyu made a call after getting in; the secretary on the other end answered nervously.

“Check if the Ling family’s overseas investment is involved in that Southeast Asian project.”

The secretary replied hurriedly, “Mr. Jiang, that project is under the direct management of Mr. Sheng Yi. All specific details are kept within the subsidiary company’s internal system. They haven’t reported it to headquarters.”

With numerous subsidiaries under the Jiang Corporation and hundreds of smaller companies under each business group, sending all data to headquarters would overload the system, pushing the tech department to the brink.

Therefore, each business group manages its own companies, and only projects with total funds reaching S or A level are reported to headquarters.

The Southeast Asian cooperation was initially rated A level, so the data should have been sent to headquarters long ago, with any developments reported directly to Jiang Zhiyu. However, Sheng Yi, greedy and eager to break free from Jiang Zhiyu’s control, instructed his subordinates not to report every detail or upload the specifics.

Jiang Zhiyu chuckled lightly and suddenly reached out, gripping the slender white leg dangling beneath the seat.

Ling Ran felt his leg lifted onto the seat. He instinctively tried to pull it back, hands pressed at his sides.

But Jiang Zhiyu’s five fingers held firm, restraining him. Even if he wanted to force his leg away, he lacked the strength to resist.

His fingertips traced twice over the Omega’s soft skin, even at the ankle, where a faint heat seemed to burn—Ling Ran wondered if his internal temperature was higher now.

Holding the phone in one hand, Jiang Zhiyu calmly instructed, “Have Mr. Sheng Yi come personally to report to me first thing tomorrow morning.”

He hung up.

Silence returned to the car. Ling Ran heard the call but didn’t quite understand Jiang Zhiyu’s intention in investigating the Ling family’s investment.

His senses were entirely focused on his ankle, where the cold suppressor once was, now firmly gripped by a hand like an iron clamp.

---

He had carefully applied barrier patches today and sprayed extra inhibitor before leaving, so no rose-scented grape pheromones leaked out.

In the damp, muddy air, only the faint scent of alcohol from the man beside him lingered.

It was impossible to attend a gathering without drinking, but Jiang Zhiyu had only taken a little, so the slight alcohol aroma was not unpleasant.

Besides, Enigma’s pheromone itself resembled tequila.

Ling Ran inhaled the faint scent softly, unaware when tears began to well up at the corners of his eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

A large hand reached out and covered the Omega’s delicate face, wiping away the moisture. The touch was so soft and tender, like peeling grapes, that the fingertips gently massaged the reddened corners of his eyes.

Since he was little, no one had ever wiped Ling Ran’s tears. He always cried silently alone, then wiped his face clean and pretended everything was fine.

But the harder the hand tried to wipe the tears, the more they poured forth, impossible to stop.

Finally, Jiang Zhiyu grasped his ankle firmly and tugged, effortlessly pulling Ling Ran close.

Ling Ran remained with legs parted, blurry tear-filled eyes gazing up at the suddenly enlarged handsome face before him.

Enigmas seemed born as the strong ones; even before differentiation, they never showed weakness. They appeared without vulnerabilities, always at the center of power and admiration as adults.

So he didn’t understand why this Omega could cry so much.

“Alright,” Jiang Zhiyu cupped his cheek with one hand, “no more crying.”

Ling Ran tried to hold back the tears, sobbing faintly. His head spun; in the haze, he barely made out the deep phoenix eyes of the man before him.

He seemed to be venting, overwhelmed with grievance: “The suppressor… it’s broken… I haven’t saved enough money… They all say I’m sick… Just now, I didn’t mean to push Yin Chu… Sheng Yi doesn’t like me… He won’t like me… I don’t want to like him anymore… I don’t want to marry him… boo…”

Dizzy and fading, Ling Ran gradually lost consciousness. Just as his eyes closed, a cold, deep voice whispered, as if casting a spell in his ear:

“Then break off the engagement.”

---

When he opened his eyes again, it was noon the next day.

Ling Ran’s fever had subsided. Still groggy, he sat up in bed. Upon realizing this wasn’t his own room, clarity returned.

Beside the large bed was a vast, crystal-clear floor-to-ceiling window, revealing an endless expanse of blue ocean.

This was the beachside villa.

Ling Ran: “!”

He rubbed his head and sank back into the covers, biting the velvet blanket in regret.

How had he followed Jiang Zhiyu home last night? He remembered nothing.

He had another fever, his body aching terribly, and on that Rolls-Royce, he had cried uncontrollably.

He vaguely recalled someone whispering about breaking the engagement.

Suddenly, a knock came on the door. Ling Ran, his hair a tangled mess like a bird’s nest, resignedly got out of bed to answer.

Outside stood Song Yi, holding a delicate white box, smiling warmly: “Mr. Ling, good morning. This is something Mr. Jiang ordered to be delivered early this morning, saying I should personally see that you wear it.”

Ling Ran, puzzled, opened the box to find a brand-new white suppressor. It looked larger than the ankle band, with a more refined design, even edged with lace patterns.

Song Yi explained, “This is the latest foreign model of the leg-band suppressor, meant to be worn on the thigh. It fits the skin better and is very discreet. You won’t be noticed wearing it under regular clothing. Please try it on.”

Ling Ran took it out and measured it against his thigh through his pants—it fit perfectly.

Though his legs were slender, he wasn’t emaciated. His thighs had soft flesh and skin so fair it seemed to glow. If pinched, it would yield tender, juicy flesh, like peeled fruit.

How had Jiang Zhiyu so precisely estimated his thigh circumference?

For some reason, Ling Ran felt a sudden warmth flush his ears.

He thanked Song Yi and asked, “How much does this leg-band suppressor cost?”

He intended to repay Jiang Zhiyu eventually; he couldn’t just take it for free.

Song Yi smiled, “It’s more expensive than the domestic models—probably a seven-figure sum.”

Ling Ran: “…”