Bo Xiangzhou came back home late at night.

Cheng Song and Sang Qi, who had been drinking with him, tried to persuade him to stay longer, but he politely declined, his mind occupied with thoughts of An Xun.

The omega didn’t reply to his messages, wouldn’t take his calls, and when he did, he’d hang up after mumbling some poorly crafted excuses.

The driver sped through the streets, racing back to the estate just as Bo Xiangzhou’s anxiety reached its peak.

Striding purposefully, Bo Xiangzhou scanned the liquor cabinet; it seemed untouched, but the air was filled with the scent of citrus perfume, trying a bit too hard to conceal something.

The sound of the door opening was loud. The little bundle on the bed jolted awake and turned around, “I didn’t go anywhere, why are you being so fierce?”

The alpha’s expression was icy.

Wrapped in a blanket, An Xun wriggled to the edge of the bed, effectively putting himself out of Bo Xiangzhou’s reach for hitting. Pinching his fingers together, leaving a small gap of about two or three centimeters, he said, “I just drank a little, just a tiny bit.”

“Baby, tell the truth.”

Knowing his temperament, it was unlikely he drank just a little. Bo Xiangzhou felt annoyed yet helpless; he couldn’t hit or scold him, only coax him.

An Xun admitted, “I didn’t finish half the bottle, I poured it out.”

Pouring it out was certainly better than drinking it all. Bo Xiangzhou’s expression softened. He knelt on one knee on the bed and reached out to pull him closer, checking his temperature. As he messed up the collar, An Xun stopped him just as he was about to see the clothes underneath.

Taking control, An Xun grabbed Bo Xiangzhou’s hand, suppressing a mischievous idea, “President Bo, do I need to write a self-criticism?”

Bo Xiangzhou didn’t understand the play he was setting up and went along with it: “Ten thousand words?”

An Xun haggled, “A hundred words will do. I couldn’t write ten thousand words in three years. President Bo, be merciful. I admit my mistake with a good attitude and even volunteer to write the self-criticism. If you keep this up, I’ll get angry and make you write a ten thousand-word self-criticism.”

An Xun leaned in and kissed him, “Alright, I’m not angry anymore. Go take a shower. Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll have it delivered to the study.”

The coldness in the alpha’s brows dissipated, charmed by the coaxing, “A hundred words and you need thirty minutes?”

“I need to brainstorm a bit, but I’ll make sure you’re satisfied,” An Xun promised, patting his chest.

Once he spoke, Bo Xiangzhou, who had no expectations, now had even less. He knew his omega well; he was all talk and harder to manage than his company’s employees.

Bo Xiangzhou spoke like he was indulging a child, “Okay, thirty minutes it is. Take your time, don’t tire yourself out.”

An Xun suddenly realized he had neither paper nor pen, showing a few seconds of embarrassment, “Can I just go to the study to write it? That way, I don’t have to deliver it.”

Bo Xiangzhou immediately responded, “Baby, whatever you want.”

He expected the self-criticism to be a bunch of nonsense just to fill the word count, with only the beginning and the end barely touching on the subject.

Seeing An Xun with a cup of warm water by his side, head down, furiously writing as if nothing could distract him, Bo Xiangzhou showed a puzzled expression, doubting his earlier assumption for the first time.

Getting closer, his guess was still correct.

On a blank A4 paper, filled with simple line drawings of turtles – an angry turtle, a sad turtle, and one Bo Xiangzhou couldn’t recognize.

An Xun pointed at it, “This is a facial paralysis turtle.”

Bo Xiangzhou: “…So, where’s the self-criticism?”

An Xun stood up, pressed his shoulders down, and sat him in the leather chair, sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck, “There’s no self-criticism. I couldn’t write it, but I have other ways of making amends. Want to try?”

Bo Xiangzhou, wary of being tricked, held him up, “Explain first.”

“Alright then…” An Xun pretended to be troubled, turned to hold his teacup, his expression hesitant, fingers idly circling the outside of the cup as if considering an impossible task. After a long pause, his gaze lowered and he changed his statement, “Let’s have a drink of water first.”

He tilted the cup towards Bo Xiangzhou’s lips, and just as Bo Xiangzhou was about to drink, An Xun quickly withdrew his hand, splashing water on the overlapped sleeping robes.

Bo Xiangzhou: “?”

Is feeding him water this embarrassing? Has he changed?

Suppressing a laugh, An Xun put on a pitiful expression, his lips quivering but no words coming out, his regretful fingers fiddling with Bo Xiangzhou’s robe ties. Just when Bo Xiangzhou couldn’t take the teasing anymore and was about to make a move, An Xun swiftly retreated.

After a back and forth, Bo Xiangzhou saw it was intentional.

An Xun stopped pretending, smiling, “Come on, have a drink of water to cool off.”

He brought the cup to Bo Xiangzhou’s lips again, then suddenly twisted his wrist and took a sip himself.

His eyes challenged, yet he didn’t swallow.

Noticing Bo Xiangzhou tightening his grip on his waist, An Xun grinned, rubbing his nose against his, and then kissed him.

Warm water dripped down his chin, surrounded by the other’s scent, their breathing erratic. A blush crept up An Xun’s cheeks, water droplets hanging from his exposed collarbone. Bo Xiangzhou focused, noticing he was still holding the cup, half-empty now.

He knew Bo Xiangzhou would fetch a tissue to dry him off, so he obediently leaned against him and waited.

After drying off, he seemed to glimpse a color not belonging to the robe through the loose collar.

An Xun turned his face, significantly arousing the alpha’s suspicion. Bo Xiangzhou held him with one hand and then opened the collar to see the scenery underneath, pausing when he realized.

Bo Xiangzhou smiled lightly, realizing he had been played for an hour before waking up from the dream.

Succeeding in his ruse, An Xun blew into his ear, “Silly husband.”

The air conditioning in the study had been on the whole time, now warm enough that even without the robe, it wasn’t cold.

Seeing the whole picture, admiration sparkled in Bo Xiangzhou’s eyes, his gaze involuntarily roaming over his body. An Xun couldn’t stand being appraised and pulled open his robe ties, speaking in a slightly embarrassed tone, “Husband, do you still have business to attend to tonight?”

“Nothing, I finished everything during the day,” Bo Xiangzhou covered him with a bathrobe. He hadn’t fully recovered from his cold, and this event could worsen it, which would make him feel guilty for half a month.

The feeling of the robe was nice, like playing other little games. An Xun let him do as he pleased, “No work then, shall we talk about life?”

Their breaths mingled, Bo Xiangzhou’s eyes deepened, “Sure, let’s talk, right here in the study.”

It wasn’t clear who initiated the kiss, but under the warmth, both lost control.

After a night of antics, the omega, not yet in heat, was very clear-headed, clear-headed enough to somewhat regret his actions of throwing himself at him earlier. As his senses gradually drifted away later, he remembered things far more clearly than the first time.

With previous experience, Bo Xiangzhou didn’t use any strange ointments this time, and An Xun felt exceptionally clean, though the excessive craziness was a bit uncomfortable.

Only after it was all done did he feel embarrassed. An Xun woke up and pinched Bo Xiangzhou, unable to shake the images from his mind.

Bo Xiangzhou massaged his waist, seemingly having learned the exact pressure to use, “Baby, what do you want to eat?”

“Eat your grandpa’s big chicken leg!” An Xun almost said it out loud, angry at his own lack of shame, and at Bo Xiangzhou’s excessive gentleness.

The previous night, when he wanted to go to the toilet, Bo Xiangzhou didn’t play any improper tricks from novels. Instead, he carried him there naturally, not wanting to part yet worrying about embarrassing him, so he started coaxing.

An Xun was so embarrassed he wanted to bash his head against the wall, burying himself in his arms without a word.

He remained silent, so Bo Xiangzhou took the initiative to have the kitchen make pumpkin millet and red date porridge. The omega was physically depleted, feeling like his bones were almost falling apart, hanging on him and sipping the porridge in small gulps, then falling back to sleep. It took two or three hours of sleep to recover half his strength.

The energy spent in one night would require several nights of rest to barely recover, and clearly two nights weren’t enough. On Monday morning, he was woken up by Bo Xiangzhou calling him over ten times.

As usual, Bo Xiangzhou picked out his clothes, and while dressing, An Xun sat still, wanting to dive back under the covers. At this point, Bo Xiangzhou would dress him personally.

Yawning tiredly, An Xun couldn’t stop his chattering, “President Bo, what would you do without me?”

Bo Xiangzhou, half-kneeling, lifted one of his feet to put on a cashmere sock, “Baby, you got that backward, didn’t you?”

“It’s not backward. If it weren’t for me, you’d never develop multiple skills in caring for others. An alpha who can’t care for an omega would be despised,” An Xun propped his foot against his chest, teasing for a few seconds.

The alpha, unable to resist his teasing, grabbed his slender ankle, “Baby, stop messing around, or do you not need to go to work?”

An Xun, with no back pain to fear, retorted, “Threats don’t work on me, President Bo. I might not need to go to work, but you, a busy man, have a big meeting this morning.”