Chapter 5: Thirty Million

“Let go!”

“Withdraw your pheromones! Do you want to die?” Shen Yanzhou’s voice was quieter than the sound of a lighter striking.

But the man was reasonably obedient. He released his grip and stepped back two paces. The S-class pheromones behind him that had nearly crushed bones to powder withdrew instantly, clean as a whistle.

Shen Yanzhou leaned against the liquor cabinet. His spine was damp with cold sweat from the top-tier pheromone suppression just now. He caught his breath, turned on the living room lights, and looked coldly at this “dog” he had spent a fortune to buy back from that place in the Kowloon Walled City that devoured people without spitting out bones.

Though he had anticipated it in his heart, when he truly saw the man’s appearance under unobstructed light, even Shen Yanzhou, who was accustomed to all manner of top-tier faces in Hong Kong, found his breath involuntarily catching for an instant.

Too wild.

He stood there, as if he had brought the most dangerous storm of the Kowloon Walled City into this climate-controlled mansion at twenty-six degrees.

The man was soaked through. The downpour had plastered his tattered vest like a second skin onto that granite-like musculature. Every muscle looked like it had grown for killing or survival, hard to the touch just to look at.

Rainwater streamed down his messy black hair, tracing across that face.

This face was indeed well-formed. Not like some rotten thug from the Kowloon Walled City, but rather like some fallen aristocrat. His eyes were black and heavy, and when he stared at you, there was little emotion, like a wolf that had not yet been fed.

A supreme specimen.

Whether this body born for killing and sex, or this face that could drive the high-society ladies of Central mad, the thirty million spent was somewhat worth the return.

At least displayed at home, he was not an eyesore.

Shen Yanzhou regulated his breathing, forcibly suppressing the physiological trembling of an Omega before a top-tier Alpha. He stepped barefoot onto the soft carpet and lounged lazily into the wide black sofa in the center of the living room.

Then he lifted his eyelids, looking down at that man from above, without a trace of warmth.

“Come here.”

The man did not hesitate. He strode over on long legs, standing barefoot before the sofa.

His nearly two-meter height cast a massive shadow, instantly enveloping Shen Yanzhou entirely. Even with his pheromones withdrawn, he still carried an unsettling aggression.

Shen Yanzhou frowned in disgust. He pulled a slender cigarette from the pack on the coffee table, and with the hand holding the cigarette, pointed at the carpet: “Kneel.”

S-class Alphas all possessed physiological arrogance, to say nothing of one who had clearly seen blood, a desperado who had crawled out from piles of corpses. Their bones were usually harder than the rebar of the Kowloon Walled City.

Shen Yanzhou’s hand moved imperceptibly toward the Browning pistol beneath the sofa cushion. If this wild dog dared show a single fang, he would immediately press it against his brow.

Yet unexpectedly, the man showed no hesitation, not even furrowing his brow.

He stepped back half a pace, bent his knees, and dropped.

The movement was crisp and decisive, even carrying a kind of trained, inexplicable grace.

With this kneel, the oppressive height pressure finally vanished.

Shen Yanzhou felt much more comfortable. He took out his lighter, lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply.

Then he extended his bare right foot, intending to lift the man’s chin, to test the bite of this “dog.”

This foot was extraordinarily beautiful. The toes were delicate and rounded, the instep arching in an elegant curve, the skin so white it was nearly translucent, glowing under the light with a fine, porcelain-like luster.

Only on that cold white instep, there remained a wound from a few days ago when Shen Hong had splashed hot tea. The coin-sized patch of red swelling stood out shockingly against the pale skin.

But just as his toes were about to touch the man’s jaw, a scalding, rough large hand suddenly raised without warning, seizing his slender ankle.

The movement was not heavy, but carried an irresistible force.

Shen Yanzhou’s gaze turned abruptly cold. The hand hidden beneath the sofa cushion instantly found the cold gun grip, his fingertip hooking the trigger.

“Don’t want to live?” His voice carried killing intent.

“Your foot here, it’s injured.” The man stared unblinking at the swollen red area. His calloused fingertips carefully avoided the wound, but because the temperature of his palm was too high, it made Shen Yanzhou tremble slightly.

“What business is it of yours? Let go.”

The man raised his head, his pitch-black eyes looking straight at him, and said earnestly:

“This foot won’t do.”

“I am a coarse man. My muscles are hard, my skin is rough.” As the man spoke, he actually slowly lowered his head. In this posture full of humiliating meaning, he pressed his cheek extremely gently against the sole of Shen Yanzhou’s foot.

“Your foot is injured. It won’t have strength for stepping on people, and it will hurt.”

“Use the left foot instead.”

“The left foot has no injury. You’ll be more comfortable stepping with it.”

Shen Yanzhou’s fingers gripping the gun stock froze.

He had seen those afraid of death, those begging for mercy, and those hard bones who would rather die than submit. But this kind of person, with a gun pressed to his head, still worrying whether his patron’s foot would hurt from stepping on him, this was his first time encountering such a freak.

“Are you a masochist?” Shen Yanzhou withdrew his foot, switched to the uninjured left foot, and unceremoniously stepped on the man’s shoulder, even grinding down with force.

“Since you want to be stepped on so badly, then endure it for me.”

The man not only did not dodge, but straightened his back to make it easier for him to step more steadily. That submissive bearing, taking whatever came, made the fire in Shen Yanzhou’s heart inexplicably dissipate by more than half.

Boring.

What was the point of quibbling with a stupid dog.

He withdrew his foot, leaned back into the sofa, and swept his gaze over the man’s broad shoulders and solid pectoral muscles.

This physique was indeed supreme.

He just didn’t know if in bed he would only know crude, reckless charging.

“Speak of your origins, your background, how you entered the black market.” Shen Yanzhou’s voice turned cold. “I want to hear the truth. If I discover you are fabricating stories…”

He extended the hand holding the cigarette, pointing toward the pitch-black sea surface outside the window where the wind howled violently.

“I won’t mind throwing you into Victoria Harbour to feed the fish. In this weather, the fish should be hungry.”

The man was silent for a moment, as if organizing his words.

“When I had memories, I was fighting for food in the cage houses of Sham Shui Po.” His speech was slow, his voice low and hoarse. “Back then I had no name. Everyone called me ‘Ah Gou’ or ‘Wild Brat.'”

“Later, to survive, I went to the Kowloon Walled City to watch over a gambling den for them. That place you should have heard of, a lawless zone where a life is cheap. As long as you could fight, you had a meal.”

“Watch over?” Shen Yanzhou raised an eyebrow. “Specifically what? Just standing guard?”

“Not entirely.” The man shook his head. “Sometimes you had to help collect debts. Some gambling addicts who had lost their eyes, or loan sharks who had run away, you had to bring them back. I don’t like using knives. Too much trouble. Usually just used my hands.”

“Used your hands?”

“Yes. Break the hands and feet, or dislocate the jaw, and the person becomes obedient.” The man’s tone remained flat as he said this. “Later the blind boss of that den said I had good skills, had me fight underground boxing. Five hundred for a win, no money for a loss, and you had to pay your own medical expenses.”

“How long did you fight?”

“Five years. Later no one dared fight me anymore, so I could only do other things.”

Shen Yanzhou laughed coldly. This resume was rough enough.

“Then how did you enter the black market? Since no one could beat you, how were you captured?”

Mentioning this, the man’s brows furrowed slightly, revealing a trace of confusion and vexation. His expression even looked somewhat foolish.

“A few days ago when the typhoon was about to come, I was eating a plate lunch at a tea restaurant in the back alley of Mong Kok. That day I was too hungry. I didn’t pay attention to what was behind me.”

“Someone struck me from behind with a club. That blow was vicious. Before I could turn around, a needle stabbed in. When I woke up, I was already in that iron cage, without any strength in my body.”

He had been staring at his eyes the whole time.

“Just knocked out from behind while eating?” Shen Yanzhou’s tone was full of suspicion. “You are an S-class Alpha. Even if ambushed, you shouldn’t have been completely unable to resist.”

“As you can see, I have no brains.” The man gave a self-mocking tug at the corner of his mouth, raised his head, and looked directly at Shen Yanzhou. “Plus at that time I had not eaten for four days.”

“Four days without eating?”

“Yes.” The man nodded, his gaze exceptionally sincere. “At that time if someone had given me a bowl of char siu rice, forget a club to the head, even if they wanted my life, I would have given it.”

Shen Yanzhou was silent for a moment. His experiences sounded very cliché, full of worn-out tropes from Hong Kong films. But in the chaotic, moldy, despair-ridden Kowloon Walled City, this kind of thing truly happened every day. Plus the logic held together, the details were authentic, and it did not seem fabricated.

But he only believed it about thirty percent.

This man before him, though wearing cheap clothes and speaking of down-and-out experiences, the bearing he revealed was absolutely not something a thug who fought for food in cage houses could cultivate.

And that musculature, though without formal technique, was extremely efficient. Rather than built from underground boxing, it seemed more like the product of some… long-term standardized training.

Shen Yanzhou stood up, walked barefoot to the liquor cabinet,夹ed several ice cubes into a crystal glass, poured a glass of ice water, turned, and held that glass of water out to the man before him.

“Drink.”

The man was stunned for a moment, as if not reacting to this sudden “boon.” He reached out to take the delicate crystal glass, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one go.

Completely without guard.

A strange color flashed across the depths of Shen Yanzhou’s eyes.

“Your past, I do not care.” He sat back down on the sofa. “Similarly, do not try to pry into my affairs. Once you enter this door, everything from before is void.”

“In this house, you only need to do one thing.”

“Listen to my words, be my dog. Understand?”

The man set down the glass, both hands on his knees, and bowed his head again. “Understood.”

“Since you are cut off from the past, I can’t be bothered to call your former name.” Shen Yanzhou said carelessly: “I spent thirty million to buy you… this amount is enough for me to buy several bodyguards.”

“Since you are so valuable, from now on, you will be called ‘Thirty Million.'”

“Thirty Million?” The man chewed over these three words, his expression confused.

“What? Think it sounds bad?” Shen Yanzhou raised an eyebrow. “Or think this objectifies you?”

“No.” The man shook his head, and the corner of his mouth actually rose slightly. “I like it very much.”

“It sounds expensive.”

Shen Yanzhou: “…”

This wild dog’s thought process was truly peculiar.

“Similarly, you do not need to know my name. In this house, you only need to call me ‘Master.'”

“Yes, Master.”

This “Master,” spoken low and lingering, made the irritation in Shen Yanzhou’s heart diminish by a few more points.

He rose and walked to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a strong drink, using the glass’s reflection to observe the man behind him.

“One last question.” Shen Yanzhou swirled his glass. “Why did you just attack me from behind?”

“I was not attacking Master.”

“I came to ‘fulfill my duty.'” The man still knelt there, his expression unreadable.

“Fulfill your duty?” Shen Yanzhou turned around, leaning against the liquor cabinet.

“I thought Master spent such a large sum to buy me back, it was for… sex.” The man raised his head, those eyes both clear and turbid.

“The people at the auction told me that Omegas like you who are willing to spend tens of millions to take an Alpha home are usually empty and lonely, buying them back for use in bed.”

“…”

“Crack.” A crack appeared in the crystal glass in Shen Yanzhou’s hand. He laughed, laughed from anger.

“Sex?” He strode forward, seized the man by his wet collar, and pulled him fiercely toward himself.

Their noses were nearly touching, their breaths intertwining.

“You think… I am the same as those fat-headed, lower-body-thinking wastes?”

“Or do you think I am some Omega so desperate I would go into heat over any wild man picked from a garbage heap?”

The distance was too close.

Close enough for the man to clearly see Shen Yanzhou’s fan-like dense eyelashes, to see himself reflected in those silver-gray pupils, to smell that enticing… fragrance on him.

“Not the same.”

“How not the same?” Shen Yanzhou pressed with a cold laugh.

The man looked at those pale lips so close before him, his Adam’s apple rolling: “Because Master, you are too beautiful.”

“Beautiful enough… to make one want to die on you.”

“Heh.”

Truly crude.

Hearing that blunt, explicit statement, he released his grip on the man’s collar, pulled back the distance, wiped his hands with disgust, and looked at him coldly: “Sex? You think you are worthy?”

He tapped the man’s solid lower abdomen with his fingertip. “I bought you only for the S-class blood in this body of yours. When I make this thing of yours knot inside me and get me pregnant, your mission will be complete.”

“Until then, that is your only purpose.”

“Understood?”

“Understood.” The man replied in a low voice.

“But not now.” Shen Yanzhou rubbed his temples wearily. The migraine from prolonged mental tension made him somewhat drowsy.

“I am very tired. Not in the mood to deal with your thing.”

He raised his hand and pointed to that thick long-pile carpet in the corner of the hall, far from his bedroom.

“Tonight you sleep there.”

After speaking, Shen Yanzhou did not look at him again, turned, and walked toward the direction of the bedroom. Until he reached the door of the second-floor bedroom, his hand on the doorknob, he seemed to suddenly remember something. He tossed one final sentence down to the man still kneeling in the center of the living room below:

“Turn off the lights.”

“Yes, Master.”

As the lights extinguished, darkness surged in like a tide.

The man obediently lay down. Until the lock of the second-floor bedroom door made a faint clicking sound.

In the darkness, he slowly opened his eyes. The originally turbid, dull gaze instantly turned clear and piercing, precisely tracing the direction of the second-floor bedroom.

He rubbed his rough fingertips, savoring the jade-like smoothness of that ankle in his palm just now, his gaze gradually growing dark and deep.

Pierce in, knot, get pregnant…

‘How dare he, extend such an invitation to me?’