FOBTS CH82

Chapter 82: Are You the Devil

“I like you too,” Song Ruochen said. “…Only you.”

Jian Yuheng: “:D”

“Give me your phone,” Song Ruochen said. “I just spent a fortune to buy a couple’s identity set with matching avatar frames. Let’s link them in the app.”

Jian Yuheng: “……”

“We’ll do it later.” Jian Yuheng turned his face toward him.

The phone in his hand slipped onto the sofa with a soft thud, and Song Ruochen’s attention was temporarily stolen.

He leaned lazily against the back of the sofa. Warm lips pressed against his, and in a daze, he could hear his own heartbeat speeding up.

When it came to apologizing bravely but refusing to change, the two of them were perfectly aligned.

Jian Yuheng put on his villain persona, his strong hand firmly gripping Song Ruochen’s jaw, completely depriving him of the chance to speak. Even the faintest of sounds were swallowed up.

Over time, Song Ruochen felt like he could read pheromones.

Like now—this hawthorn one felt aggressive. Though it gently wrapped around him, it carried a desire he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Am I that bad at kissing?” Jian Yuheng asked, confused. “You’re spacing out?”

“…Wasn’t spacing out.” During a brief pause between them, Song Ruochen rubbed his sore lips. “I was thinking about you the whole time.”

Jian Yuheng was no longer confused. A smile curved his lips.

The short kiss had been like a drop of water on a burning cart—nowhere near enough. Before long, Song Ruochen felt like a grape in a summer vineyard, sun-wilted and limp.

Only by staying close to Jian Yuheng could he escape the heat of this “scorching summer.”

He leaned his head on Jian Yuheng’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck. When he didn’t get a reaction, he couldn’t help but act like a stubborn ox, bumping their heads together.

Jian Yuheng: “……”

This crazy guy again.

What kind of hometown produces grapes with this level of insanity?

“Wait,” Jian Yuheng soothed. “Almost there.”

Jian Yuheng: “Let me check the steps.”

Song Ruochen: “0.o?”

“You’re learning this now?” Song Ruochen asked. “Aren’t you the guy with a 998 score?”

“Never practiced before,” Jian Yuheng replied, committing the freshly reviewed content to memory and tossing his phone aside. “Thanks, President Song, for the internship opportunity.”

“……” Song Ruochen was starting to feel scared.

“It’s fine,” Jian Yuheng said. “You’ve got a license, but you can’t drive either. Test scores are one thing; practice is another. Those who get it, get it.”

With a hint of doubt and nervousness, Song Ruochen opened his eyes again.

“Forget it,” he said. “You’ll do. I’m not picky.”

Whatever happened, being with Jian Yuheng was enough.

“First, switch your pheromones to comfort mode,” Jian Yuheng said. “Use them to soothe the omega.”

“And then—”

His already-blank mind caught fire and became even more of a void. His ability to think was disabled, and his body responded purely by instinct. Song Ruochen lowered his lashes, gaze falling on Jian Yuheng’s well-defined fingers as they unbuttoned his shirt, one by one.

Like a grapevine, he naturally wound his arms around Jian Yuheng’s neck, holding him tightly.

“Should we go to the bedroom?” Jian Yuheng asked.

“No…” The melted brain triggered his stubborn streak. “No need to be so by-the-book.”

Jian Yuheng: “Okay.”

Grape skins were discarded under the sofa. Jian Yuheng slowly leaned over, the cool pendant around his neck dangling onto Song Ruochen’s chest, sending a chill through him that made his eyes flutter open in a shiver.

“Next time, heat it up first…” Song Ruochen mumbled nonsense.

But soon, he had no room to think about anything else.

Above the living room, the chandelier glittered like stars. But to him, the stars had become falling meteors, swaying and trembling as if about to crash down on him.

Sweat dampened his black hair, mixing with tears, soaking a patch of the dark fabric of the sofa.

“Don’t…” Song Ruochen said weakly after a long while. “Don’t recite your textbook!”

Cold, clinical terms whispered against his ear in Jian Yuheng’s cool, low voice—combined with his completely unrestrained, chaotic movements—became a brutal double assault.

“Okay.” Jian Yuheng barely held back his laughter.

Song Ruochen: “Hmph.”

Only then did he realize Jian Yuheng had done it on purpose—there had been amusement behind his seriousness.

“Heng?” Jian Yuheng asked. “Were you calling me?”

“Get lost.” Song Ruochen, already limp, flailed a grapevine-like arm and weakly smacked him. “Mmph…”

Jian Yuheng lowered his head and silenced his protest.

The chandelier’s glittering fragments turned into a halo, then into rain of light, still swaying and flickering.

“No, I’m done…” Song Ruochen, trying to pull his brain back together, tapped his waist and slipped off the sofa with arms and legs scrambling, giving Jian Yuheng a parting kick.

Jian Yuheng: “……”

See? There it is again.

Giving up halfway.

He wasn’t even surprised anymore.

Wrapped in a blanket, Song Ruochen curled up pitifully beside the coffee table, pale calves peeking out from the dark edge of the blanket.

Jian Yuheng tried to speak: “I—”

“Stay away from me,” Song Ruochen cut him off. “President Song is exhausted.”

Jian Yuheng: “:(”

Seriously, who was more exhausted here?

Song Ruochen rubbed his waist, his legs, and his blanket, pretending to be very busy.

“I really can’t go on,” Song Ruochen said. “Are you trying to break me, Young Master Jian?”

Jian Yuheng: “I’m not.”

“You are.” Song Ruochen insisted.

When someone wants to blame you, they’ll always find a reason.

Alpha in every aspect—physique, stamina, strength—was holding back the overwhelming desire in his chest. He obediently stayed on the sofa, not moving an inch. Since he was told not to approach, he didn’t.

Song Ruochen liked this patience and self-restraint. His lips quirked up.

Then—

“Reload the save,” Jian Yuheng said with a blank face. “We’re starting over.”

Song Ruochen: “???”

“Am I a genius or what?” Jian Yuheng asked.

Song Ruochen murmured, “…You’re the devil, aren’t you?”

Are you really the devil?

Is this how a save system is supposed to be used? Huh?

You’re using such a proper function for this?

“I, Song Ruochen, hereby promise,” Jian Yuheng began, reciting a guarantee letter smoothly, “that under the premise of not disrupting world peace, I agree to help Jian Yuheng rewind and use the save system.”

Jian Yuheng: “This letter serves as proof. If I violate it, Song Ruochen’s snacks will be withheld for one month.”

Song Ruochen: “……”

Damn.

He forgot about that.

Help.

“You… words alone mean nothing,” Song Ruochen said. “Do you have the original document?”

Jian Yuheng: “?”

The original’s in the trash can.

“You want the original?” Jian Yuheng said coldly. “Seems like our Secretary Song isn’t sincerely apologizing. Just brushing off the poor, unlucky save point.”

Song Ruochen rubbed his waist, looking slightly guilty.

This one… couldn’t argue with that. It was unlucky.

“Do you know what it feels like to work up the courage to tell a therapist you’re going insane… only for it to be pointless?” Jian Yuheng asked. “Do you know what it feels like to eat and never feel full?”

“Do you know how thrilling it is to play ‘Match the Relatives’ IRL?” Jian Yuheng pointed accusingly. “Song Ruochen, where’s your sincerity?”

“Alright, alright.” Song Ruochen gave in.

“Hurry and return.” Jian Yuheng said. “I’ll pay for it. If the system likes anything, just take it.”

Song Ruochen: “…”

“Take whatever you like”— he hadn’t even gotten to experience that yet, and now the system was getting first dibs?

“I got it.” Song Ruochen said. “Let’s do it over. This time, you’d better behave.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Jian Yuheng promised. “Rewind, Chenchen. This time, I’ll complete the mark for you.”

“Mhm…” Song Ruochen nodded. “Ding… dong…”

Time rewound, and the scene shifted. The two of them stood again at the entrance of the house.

The hazy intimacy hadn’t dissipated; the blush was still lingering on his cheeks.

“We went back a bit too far,” Song Ruochen commented. “But it’s not—ah!”

Jian Yuheng had hoisted him up, hands wrapped over his shoulder, and carried him straight to the bedroom.

He kept his word—this time, he really was gentle. So gentle that Song Ruochen started getting picky, using grape vines to slap Jian Yuheng around.

The night stretched on, soft and tender. Eventually, Jian Yuheng held him from behind, arms wrapped tightly around him, and as he completed the safety mark, he bit down on the gland at the back of Song Ruochen’s neck.

Song Ruochen: “0.0……”

Held in his arms, with their pheromones entwining, he truly felt like their lives had started to intertwine, too.

“It’s okay.” Jian Yuheng kissed away the tear clinging to his cheek. “I love you.”

Dr. Jian, miracle worker, cured Secretary Song’s genetic condition.

Cleaned up, Song Ruochen lounged by the bed eating a sandwich Jian Yuheng had made. He’d burned a lot of energy and needed to replenish it.

Song Ruochen: “:1”

Song Ruochen: “Mmm… not as good as the ones outside.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Normal people are asleep. I’ll buy you one tomorrow,” Jian Yuheng said. “Definitely tomorrow.”

“No need. I’ll eat what you make again tomorrow.” Song Ruochen replied.

What Second Young Master made had a little more flavor than the outside ones.

Maybe this was what they called the taste of home.

[(peeking.jpg)]

[All set?]

“All done,” Song Ruochen told the system. “Kinda magical.”

Though he almost died—again—and couldn’t even escape.

Still, now he kept catching a faint sweet-sour scent of hawthorn that never quite went away.

It gave him a deep sense of safety, like his emotional value was maxed out. Was this what a complete mark felt like?

Jian Yuheng… wasn’t so bad after all.

[Hehehe, you’ll grow more dependent on each other now, especially with your match rate that high.]

[Congrats to Secretary Song for winning at both love and career!]

Song Ruochen: “Hehehe… ouch.”

Jian Yuheng walked into the bedroom again, arms full of random stuff. He placed the junk onto the dresser. “Grape Chenchen, I found this in your pocket. Should I put it here?”

“Sure,” Song Ruochen replied.

The second Young Master had even picked up all his junk.

Nothing valuable, just a few suppressants, some pretty candy wrappers, half a pack of pheromone-blocking patches, and—

“Huh? Why’s there a time coin here?” Jian Yuheng reached to touch it.

Song Ruochen: “???”

Song Ruochen: “Don’t—”

That might be… a fake time coin.

[(page-flipping sound) Fake Time Coin: Rewinds memory back to 1 hour ago, effect lasts 30 minutes.]

[Just how big of a mess can a person make?]

Jian Yuheng: “#……@#*#.”

Song Ruochen: “.”

“Chenchen.” The hour-younger Jian Yuheng stroked his hair. “It’s about time for me to give you a full mark.”

Song Ruochen: “……”

Song Ruochen: “…………”

No!!!

“Wake the hell up!” The grape howled.

—

This time, the sky in City A had truly brightened.

Jian Yuheng opened his eyes after an all-nighter.

Jian Yuheng: “…”

The little grape had sprawled diagonally across the bed, blanket, and pillows kicked off. He looked totally wrecked, like he’d passed out mid-party.

Silently, Jian Yuheng got up, made congee, fried eggs, and prepped sandwiches.

As he plated everything nicely, he felt two resentful eyes boring into his back.

“You’re awake?” Jian Yuheng asked.

“You’re awake?” Song Ruochen shot back.

Jian Yuheng: “:]”

The smell of breakfast lured Song Ruochen out of bed—but he only managed to move at 0.01m/s… and then couldn’t move at all!

Oh no, the hawthorn hit him hard—his entire body was sore.

It was absurd—attacked by an amnesiac hawthorn, dragged back into bed again. Worse, the guy even pressed down and demanded to know why he already had a full mark.

Song Ruochen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He hadn’t even had time to explain—he could only remember the raw, unmistakable feelings.

Sour hawthorn. Outrageous.

“Don’t come out,” Jian Yuheng said from the living room. “We’ll eat in the bedroom.”

So Song Ruochen sat back down.

Jian Yuheng brought the breakfast in. Song Ruochen freshened up, and they sat face to face in silence as they ate.

Eventually, Song Ruochen couldn’t hold it in. Coolly, he remarked, “Hawthorn-ge gets pretty jealous, huh?”

Jian Yuheng: “……”

Thinking back clearly now—yeah, that was pretty socially fatal.

“Bit of a social death moment.” Jian Yuheng admitted.

“Not really.” Song Ruochen replied. “I’m the only one who saw it.”

“Because you are my entire world,” Jian Yuheng suddenly said.

Song Ruochen froze—then bit down on his fork.

Ah, the art of words. Jian Yuheng could probably ace that class too.

“I have lots of good qualities,” Jian Yuheng added. “And I’m rich.”

“This lovely bedroom will be our cozy little—”

[Beep beep beep! Time Card Pack detected a large transaction. Initiating buffet mode in Second Young Master’s house.]

[Trade in old furniture for more time. Ready, go!]

Clang! Clatter! Both Song Ruochen and Jian Yuheng fell to the floor—the bed and chairs were gone. So were the table and decorations.

[Burp~ Thanks for the meal! Just deducting the bedroom. The villain’s loaded.]

Jian Yuheng: “……”

Now the bedroom was just a bare shell.

“What other good qualities does the Second Young Master have?” Song Ruochen’s voice piped up. “‘This humble room reflects my noble virtue’?”

Jian Yuheng: “.”

What’s with the sarcasm?

The neurotic grape and his equally unhinged nervous system… matched perfectly with him.

Wincing and clutching his lower back, Song Ruochen was picked up off the floor by Jian Yuheng.

“Come on, Chenchen,” Jian Yuheng said. “This time, I’ll build you a brand-new nest just the way you like it.”

Author’s note:

“This humble room reflects my noble virtue” — it’s from a textbook, folks! A classic!