This chapter contains depictions of severe physical distress, medical trauma, and hemoptysis (coughing up blood). Reader discretion is advised.
They finally reached the sanctuary of the hotel room, the door clicking shut with a heavy, final thud.
"I picked these up while I was hunting for you," Chengli said, his voice tight with unspoken worry. He placed a sleek, clinical-grade case on the bedside table, then immediately took several deliberate steps back, putting a safe distance between himself and where Qixian sat slumped on the edge of the mattress. "It's the highest-grade suppressant on the market. A strong strength."
Qixian's chest heaved, his vision shimmering with heat. He looked at the case, then up at his secretary, a weak, mocking grin tugging at his lips. "I didn't know you were suddenly wealthy enough to afford black-market medical supplies."
Chengli let out a short, nostalgic chuckle, shaking his head. "Weren't you the one who insisted on paying me double what a secretary is worth for all those years? Consider it an investment that's finally paying off."
"It won't be the same anymore," Qixian murmured, his voice thick with a sudden, jagged guilt. "I can't pay you like that. Not now."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Young Master," Chengli dismissed him, his tone fond but firm. He moved toward the door, knowing he had to leave before Qixian's pheromones became too overwhelming for even a Beta like him to resist. "Just take the meds. I'm going to lock this door and instruct the front desk that you are absolutely not to be disturbed. No one gets in, and you don't get out until this is over." With one last lingering, protective glance, Chengli stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut, leaving Qixian alone in the silence.
The moment the door clicked shut, Qixian's control shattered. He stopped fighting the tide, and his body responded with a violent, jagged eruption of pheromones. His Omega instincts screamed to release a "sweet," inviting scent, but the Red Serum—that made his pheromones become a spider lily scent—had turned his biology into a dagger.
The pheromones didn't flow—they scraped. It felt like crushed glass was being forced through his pores, a searing, barbed agony that made him double over. The high-concentration scent began to fill the room, turning the air thick and heavy. It felt as though his own power was crushing his chest, suffocating his pheromone organs under the weight of their own lethal potency.
His vision swam, a haze of red and gray blurring the edges of the room. He collapsed off the bed, his knees hitting the carpet with a dull thud. Every inch of progress toward the bedside table was a war. He clawed at the air, his lungs burning as if he were drowning in his own skin.
He finally reached the case Chengli had left. His hands were trembling violently, the plastic rattling against his fingernails. He knew the risk. For a normal Omega, these high-grade suppressants were a mercy. For him, they were a chemical cage. By "locking" his scent glands, the medicine would trap the jagged toxins inside his body, building up an internal pressure that could tear him apart.
Even worse, the chemical suppression threatened to trigger a 'feral' state—a primal, hyper-fixated survival mode that would turn him into a cornered predator, dangerous to anyone who dared to knock.
With a racked, desperate gasp, Qixian plunged the needle into his arm. He leaned his head against the side of the bed, his breathing heavy and ragged, waiting for the chemicals to slam the gates shut on his own lethal nature.
As the suppressants finally began to take hold, a wave of agony surged through him. It wasn't a dull ache—it was a series of sharp, stabbing pains that felt like a blade was being twisted into his heart and liver. His body was recoiling from the chemicals, a violent internal rejection that made him feel as though his very organs were being torn apart.
The heat wasn't just a biological inconvenience—it was a harrowing reminder of the 'monster' the Red Serum had created him to be.
Despite the massive dose of medication, his scent didn't vanish. Instead, it sharpened into something lethal, a cloying fragrance of metallic ozone and burning flowers. It felt as though his veins had been injected with molten glass, a searing heat that scorched him from the inside out. Because the serum had warped his glands, the trapped pheromones built up a terrifying internal pressure, making it feel as if his neck and chest were being crushed by invisible hands. The scent, denied its exit, began to backflow into his bloodstream.
Qixian slumped against the side of the bed, his body wracked with chilled, feverish sweats. A sudden, violent spasm seized his lungs, and he doubled over, coughing up a dark, metallic-tasting spray of blood onto the carpet.
'Just three days...' he thought, his vision blurring as he stared at the red stain. 'I just have to survive seventy-two hours.'
_________________
"You lost him? How do you just lose an important person in a building full of security?" The man's voice was a low, serrated growl of pure fury.
"He was right there at the hospital," the subordinate answered, his voice wavering with a hint of fear. "But then… he just vanished. It was like he dissolved into the shadows the second we looked away."
"Fine," the leader snapped, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the lobby. "I won't inform the master about this, he'll have to resurface eventually. Stay on high alert. Find him."
A few yards away, tucked behind a large marble pillar near the hospital entrance, Chengli adjusted his glasses. He'd overheard every word. He had arrived at the ZH General Hospital specifically to run interference, intending to plant himself in the lobby so he could deflect any inquiries about Qixian's whereabouts.
He felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. These weren't just curious bystanders, they were professional trackers.
'I need to figure out who their master is, because it seems like that isn't Mr. Gu's men, but in the mean time, good luck, Young Master,' Chengli thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. 'I'll keep them busy here as long as I can. Just stay hidden.'
_________________
A sudden, visceral jolt struck Haoran so hard he nearly collapsed. It was an overwhelming wave of stinging, phantom heat—a searing sensation with no physical source that made his breath hitch in his throat. His knees buckled, and he scrambled to grab the edge of the desk for support, his knuckles white as he fought to stay upright.
"Haoran? Hey!" Sihan was at his side in an instant, his hands steady as he guided Haoran toward a nearby chair. "What happened? You're white as a sheet."
"I... I think I'm okay," Haoran managed, his voice thin and breathless. He slumped into the seat, his head spinning. "Just a sudden bout of dizziness. It felt like... like someone dropped me into an oven for a second."
He rubbed his temples, his brow furrowing with a new kind of worry. "Qixian hasn't updated me yet. I wonder if he's even made it to the hospital to see my mother..."
"He's probably just caught up in work," Sihan reassured him, his tone low and grounding. "You said yourself he's a doctor. Between rounds and paperwork, the man probably hasn't had a second to breathe."
"Yeah. You're probably right," Haoran sighed, though the unsettling warmth in his chest wouldn't fully fade.
"Look, you've seen every patient on the list," Sihan said, giving his shoulder a protective squeeze. "Take a rest. I'll keep an eye on the front desk. Go on—lean back."
"Thank you, Sihan," Haoran murmured, offering a weak, grateful smile as he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the haunting connection that told him his someone close to him was in deep trouble.
An hour crawled by, and Haoran's nerves were fraying. The 'phantom heat' had settled into a dull, pulsing ache in his chest that he couldn't shake. Without a second thought, he snatched up his phone and dialed Qixian's number.
"It's ringing, but he's not picking up," Haoran muttered, his thumb hovering over the screen before he hit redial. Still nothing. His heart hammered a staccato rhythm against his ribs. "He must be in surgery. Or a meeting. Or..." He trailed off, trying to force the worst-case scenarios out of his head. "Fine. I'll just wait. He'll call back when he can."
He set the phone down on the desk, but his gaze remained fixed on the black screen, waiting for it to light up.
_______________
In the darkened hotel room, Qixian's phone erupted into life again. To him, the sound didn't feel like a ringtone—it was a piercing, jagged vibration that felt like it was drilling into his skull.
The phone felt like it had been screaming for an eternity, a digital heartbeat that he simply didn't have the strength to stop. He was curled in a fetal position on the couch, his skin flushed a deep, feverish red. The heat was a relentless fire, a liquid agony that made even the smallest movement feel like his bones were being crushed.
He knew someone was calling. He could see the faint, mocking glow of the screen from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't even lift a finger to reach for it. His vision was a haze of static and sweat, and his throat was too raw to even whisper a name. He could only lay there, trapped in the suffocating silence of his own body.