One-way Passage

ly at the ceiling for several seconds before turning to lie on his side, where his gaze met a hardened glare.

The one who was glaring at him was none other than Xia Wennan.
He had a head of messy hair, and his eyes were blue around the edges, his expression oozing resentment.

Ming Luchuan’s pupils shrunk the instant he saw Xia Wennan.
His head jerked back, and he pressed a hand to his brow, his voice hoarse, as he asked, “Have you lost your mind?”

Xia Wennan was kneeling on the floor, his upper body resting on the bed.
“Chuanchuan,” he said.

Ming Luchuan visibly froze as he stared at Xia Wennan.
“What is it?”

“Do you remember what happened last night?” said Xia Wennan. 

Ming Luchuan propped himself up on his arms, lightly pressed a hand to his aching brow again, and asked, “What happened last night?”

Xia Wennan climbed onto Ming Luchuan’s bed and sat cross-legged in front of him.
“Do you remember going to dinner? Do you remember that Duan Ning was there? Do you remember fending off drinks for him?”

Ming Luchuan didn’t respond.
He was hunched over, his head slightly bowed, but his eyes were trained straight ahead.

“It seems like you do,” said Xia Wennan.
“I’ll keep going then.
Do you remember calling me and asking me to pick you up? Do you remember calling me Nannan?” He’d initially meant to ask if Ming Luchuan remembered kissing him, but as the words reached his lips, he suddenly felt too embarrassed to ask. 

“Nannan?” Ming Luchuan glanced at him with a vacant look in his eyes. 

The following question held the culmination of Xia Wennan’s anger.
He lowered his head, exposing his nape to Ming Luchuan.
“Do you remember biting me?”

Ming Luchuan provided no response.
A moment later, a warm palm stroked Xia Wennan’s nape.
Ming Luchuan’s throat bobbed, and he said, “Is that true?”

Hearing the man’s slightly grim tone startled Xia Wennan, causing him to raise his head and avoid Ming Luchuan’s touch.

Ming Luchuan’s gaze was fixed on Xia Wennan.
“I bit you?”

Xia Wennan broke out in cold sweat.
“Otherwise?”

Ming Luchuan leaned over to smell the scent on Xia Wennan’s body and chuckled softly.

His chuckle gave Xia Wennan goosebumps.
He paused for a beat before saying, “Aren’t you going to apologise to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Ming Luchuan said immediately, without a trace of emotion.

Xia Wennan looked at him, saw his calm, and couldn’t help but ask again, “You really don’t remember a thing?”

After a brief silence, Ming Luchuan said, “I don’t remember biting you.”

What about that kiss then? Xia Wennan didn’t ask.
Ming Luchuan didn’t say anything either.

Before heading over to the company, Xia Wennan applied gauze to the wound on his nape.
He knew that the placement of the gauze was extremely conspicuous, that it would let people’s imaginations roam wild, but the wound itself was too obvious—he’d rather people kept to their guesses than be able to see that he’d been bitten at a glance.
If anyone inquired, he could simply say that he’d accidentally injured himself.

Despite this, he managed to overlook the one thing he should’ve considered—the remaining traces of Ming Luchuan’s pheromones were discernible not only to him, but also to the alphas and omegas in the company.

At noon, during lunch, practically every eye in the cafeteria was on Xia Wennan.

Xia Wennan was sitting at his laboratory co-workers’ table.
He registered those sights that were far and near and was suddenly overcome with a bleak feeling.
He was certain that the entire company had assumptions of what he and Ming Luchuan had gotten up to the night before—and how intense it had been. 

Sure enough, in the next second, Chen Wenchu set down his lunch tray next to him.
As he sat down, he clapped Xia Wennan’s shoulder and said, “It’s been a while since President Ming was so fierce!”

Xia Wennan instantly choked on the rice in his mouth.
Unable to swallow or spit it out, he could only cough in agony.