RBNR Ch30: Qin Bao read the message but didn’t reply

The two negotiated for only an hour before finalizing the terms.

Having reached this point, dragging things out coyly was simply not in Qin Bao’s nature. Once every clause had been verified and confirmed multiple times, he decided on a swift resolution.

Feng Chengyu instructed Lin Zi to print out the contract. Even Lin Zi was visibly surprised: “So fast?”

A few minutes later, he briskly delivered the paper contracts to the room, accompanied by an ink pad.

Qin Bao complained, “An electronic signature would have been fine. Why make it so complicated?”

Feng Chengyu said, “The legal validity is identical, but compared to an electronic version, a paper document locked in a safe gives me a greater sense of security. If you find it a hassle and don’t want to find a place to keep your copy, I can share the safe’s combination with you.”

The contents of the contract were strictly between the two of them; if leaked, there would be liability to bear.

Qin Bao immediately declined: “No need. I can’t be bothered to memorize it.”

Both signed their names and pressed their thumbprints in ink. Watching Feng Chengyu seal the contract and hand it to Lin Zi to take away, Qin Bao felt a fleeting pang of regret. Yet beneath that lay a flustered panic he hadn’t even noticed prior to signing.

It felt as though… something was about to alter irreversibly.

To mask this inner turbulence, Qin Bao took the initiative to ask Feng Chengyu, “What’s next?”

Seeing how cooperative he was being, Feng Chengyu asked, “Do you have time tomorrow?”

Although he had no modeling jobs scheduled, his leave of absence at university had already been canceled.

Qin Bao said, “I have classes tomorrow, but I’m free after school in the afternoon. What for?”

“To choose wedding rings tomorrow,” Feng Chengyu said. “Which brand do you prefer? I’ll make a reservation in advance.”

Qin Bao grew restless: “We have to buy rings too? That won’t be necessary, will it? Even if we buy them, I won’t wear mine.”

“Mm, I know. You don’t need to wear it day-to-day,” Feng Chengyu said. “After the registration is completed, there is a joint photo that requires wearing rings, as well as holding a bridal bouquet. I’ll arrange these first so we can register as early as possible. Since you prefer to keep this private, the registry office also requires an advance booking for an appointment.”

Just listening to the logistics gave Qin Bao a headache: “Then just pick out a random pair yourself. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay you back my half.”

“Alright.” Feng Chengyu didn’t mind handling it at all. “What size do you wear?”

Qin Bao: “…”

He had no idea what ring size his ring finger was. He had worn plenty of rings during fashion shoots, but for past events, the jewelry was either sponsored or provided as runway accessories without bespoke sizing. If an ill-fitting piece slipped off and went missing, he even had to pay for it out of his own pocket.

Feng Chengyu extended his hand: “Let me see your hand.”

Just by looking at it, you’ll know what size it is?

Qin Bao was deeply skeptical, but since he genuinely didn’t want to go ring shopping alongside Feng Chengyu, he offered his hand.

Lowering his gaze, Feng Chengyu maintained an aloof expression as he reached out and lightly pinched the base of Qin Bao’s ring finger. Touching it for barely a fraction of a second, he let go.

“A bit smaller than mine. It should be a size sixteen. I’ll just go buy them.”

The pads of the man’s fingers were dry and his grip was light, yet Qin Bao felt a scorching warmth bloom from the base of his finger straight up to his cheeks. It instantly triggered vivid memories of those two hands gripping each other tightly with interlaced fingers that night—slick with sweat, every finger intimately mapping out the other’s skin.

He yanked his hand back immediately, acting as if nothing had happened: “Mm… thanks.”

The two agreed that Feng Chengyu would handle scheduling the registration appointment, and during this interval, Qin Bao could raise any questions whenever they arose.

Finally, Feng Chengyu said, “Let me add you on Dingxun.”

Qin Bao’s hand had already touched the doorknob. He whipped his head back, gritting his teeth: “I don’t have Dingxun.”

Feng Chengyu wasn’t annoyed in the slightest, the corners of his lips curving upward: “Could you register an account?”

Qin Bao pulled the door open and strode out, tossing a dismissive line over his shoulder: “We’ll see.”

Feng Chengyu didn’t linger either, heading downstairs one after the other. As Qin Bao stood by the curb waiting for a cab, Lin Zi drove the car around from not far away.

Seeing that it was still early, Feng Chengyu offered courteously, “I’ll drive you back.”

The distance between them hadn’t been wide, but upon hearing this, Qin Bao abruptly scrambled several paces sideways. He not only snapped his face mask on with practiced speed, but also pulled up his hoodie, bundling himself up until not an inch was exposed.

A distance of four or five meters instantly opened between them, rendering them complete strangers.

Qin Bao warned in a low, muffled voice: “Don’t talk to me out in public.”

Suddenly made persona non grata, Feng Chengyu: “…”

Going their separate ways, not long after they parted, Qin Bao received a friend request on Dingxun.

Feng Chengyu’s profile picture was a silhouette of a person standing by the sea, cast in muted grayish-blue tones, the figure blurred beyond clear distinction. Qin Bao had seen this exact photograph in Feng Chengyu’s family album; that silhouette was Feng Chengyu himself.

So narcissistic.

Even Qin Bao never used his own photo as an avatar.

Feng Chengyu’s display name was Spartan—just a single letter: F. The verification message sent with the request was equally concise, containing only three words: Feng Chengyu.

Irritated, Qin Bao tapped accept.

It wasn’t until the evening of the following day that Feng Chengyu sent his very first message: [Thursday morning at 9:00 AM. See you at the registry office.]

Qin Bao read it, but left it on seen without replying.

A light dusting of snow was falling on the day of the registration. The Spring Festival had already passed, yet the festive street decorations hadn’t been taken down, lending the avenues a slightly desolate air. When Qin Bao arrived at the registry office by cab, Feng Chengyu had already been standing outside for over ten minutes, his hair and shoulders dusted with stray snowflakes.

Damn it…

Did he get a haircut? Why does this new style actually look good?

Surely he hadn’t cut it just for today. It wasn’t like they were having a real, earnest wedding; what was the point of making it so formal?

“You don’t need to stand out here waiting for me.” Qin Bao walked straight past him without turning his head, tossing out the remark: “We walk separately from now on. Don’t forget that.”

Feng Chengyu reached out and hooked his collar with a single finger—identical to the move at the club—reeling him back effortlessly.

Having harbored a grudge against this move for ages, Qin Bao broke free immediately: “What are you doing?”

This time, Feng Chengyu’s expression was chilly: “Why are you running? We need to go in together first to fill out the application forms and undergo the premarital health screening.”

Qin Bao gnashed his teeth: “Why didn’t you say so earlier!”

Feng Chengyu: “Which is precisely why I was waiting out here for you.”

Left with no choice, the two walked inside side by side.

They first collected their premarital medical examination forms, completed their respective physical screenings, and finally proceeded together to the reproductive department to test their physiological compatibility.

Upon hearing that they needed to draw scent gland fluid, Qin Bao showed clear resistance: “Can we skip this? It’s unnecessary. I don’t care what our compatibility score is.”

Hearing this, the physician chuckled warmly: “Yes, newlyweds have deep feelings. I understand you don’t care about the numbers, but the Alliance-mandated standard Alpha-Omega compatibility screening still requires proper attention. No matter how much you love him, you must finish the medical screening procedures.”

Feng Chengyu seemed to be suppressing a laugh.

Qin Bao’s face flushed a deep crimson: “…Love him? Who loves him? That’s not what I meant.”

The mandatory procedures still had to be completed. According to official data released by the Alliance, the global average compatibility rate between Alphas and Omegas was 65%, with a legal baseline of no lower than 43%. Below that threshold, an Alpha could not execute a permanent mark on an Omega. Constrained by innate physiological mechanics, an Alpha and Omega unable to achieve a permanent mark could never form a biological bond, leaving them with a lifelong craving for one and creating an unstable psychological variable.

Consequently, if a premarital screening yielded a compatibility rate below 43%, an additional waiver signed by both parties was required.

The nurse’s hands trembled slightly as she prepared to extract scent gland fluid from Feng Chengyu.

An S-rank Alpha who was so young, yet already such an illustrious figure—these two factors stacked together made the nurse exceptionally nervous.

An Alpha’s scent gland was nestled near the carotid artery. As blood circulated, pheromones dispersed throughout the body; unlike Omegas, Alphas could not conceal their glands using scent patches, making the area comparatively more vulnerable.

Feng Chengyu tilted his head, baring the skin along the side of his neck, and said gently, “Go ahead and draw it. Don’t worry.”

The specialized, slender needle breached the skin, piercing straight into the gland. The sharp sting made Feng Chengyu’s brows knit tightly; blue veins instantly corded across his temples, and a fine sheen of sweat surfaced on his brow.

Watching this, Qin Bao’s face went pale. When his turn arrived, he practically wanted to bolt: “I’ll pass on the test! You can just write up the report with the lowest compatibility score, and I’ll sign the waiver!”

Saying so, he turned to walk out.

“Come back.” Feng Chengyu was adjusting his collar. “What are you afraid of?”

Qin Bao halted his steps, retorting stubbornly, “Who’s afraid?”

Feng Chengyu strode over, blocking his path like a solid wall.

Both of Qin Bao’s hands were buried in his coat pockets. Without standing on ceremony, Feng Chengyu slipped his own hand right into his pocket as well. Qin Bao glared furiously, not daring to cause a scene to avoid drawing attention: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Feng Chengyu offered no verbal reply, merely prying open the clenched fist tucked inside the pocket. Sure enough, his palm was slick with cold sweat.

Lowering his head, he murmured into Qin Bao’s ear at a volume inaudible to anyone else: “You’re afraid of this kind of needle?”

Caught.

Standing so close.

Qin Bao turned his head away awkwardly, answering under his breath: “…Mm, not that afraid.”

“If you’re scared, lean against me.” Feng Chengyu pressed a hand against the back of his neck. “If you don’t look, you won’t be scared.”

With no way to escape, Qin Bao was guided to lower his head, resting his forehead against Feng Chengyu’s shoulder.

The hand inside his coat pocket remained held by Feng Chengyu, the man’s fingers sliding between his own to grip him firmly.

Throwing a tantrum would only look worse; refraining from breaking away was already granting him immense face.

It was rare for him to display vulnerability, leaving him terribly unaccustomed to it. His entire frame was wound tight as a bowstring, constantly urging, “If you’re going to draw it, just draw it… can you hurry up?”

The two stood in what looked like an intimate embrace. Qin Bao’s collar was pulled down slightly, revealing his fair nape. With his head bowed, the bone below the Omega’s scent gland protruded faintly, appearing exceedingly delicate.

The nurse sterilized the area. The instant the needle tip pierced his skin, Qin Bao clenched his teeth, his body stiffening like an iron plank.

Feng Chengyu’s fingers applied a gentle, steady pressure to the back of his head: “Relax a little, Bao Bao.”

The moment the words landed, the skin on Qin Bao’s nape flushed visibly red, creeping all the way up to his cheeks. Gritting his teeth, he forced out: “…What nonsense are you calling me?!”

Damn it.

Qin Bao fumed inwardly.

You might as well have stuck to calling me Xiao Bao!

Now, not only was Qin Bao blushing, but even the nurse’s face reddened: “Mr. Feng, your relationship with your partner is truly wonderful. Some people are simply terrified of injections.”

Feng Chengyu’s chest vibrated with a silent laugh.

Qin Bao warned viciously, “Don’t you dare laugh.”

After the gland fluid was drawn, Qin Bao’s face was no longer pale; it had darkened completely in embarrassment. Throughout the twenty minutes spent waiting for the test results, he didn’t utter a single syllable to Feng Chengyu.

When they collected the paperwork, the result stated clearly in bold: Compatibility: 78%. The medical staff appeared thoroughly thrilled.

Qin Bao was stunned. He had known that his compatibility with Feng Chengyu wouldn’t be low, but he had never imagined it could be this high—a full 13% above the population average. It was practically the definition of a match made in heaven; no wonder their senses were so acutely wired to one another.

Feng Chengyu reviewed the report as well. Without waiting for him, Qin Bao strode toward the exit, the skin on the back of his neck still flushed red—perhaps even redder than before.

Returning to the main registry hall, they completed the remaining paperwork and prepared for the oath and photo shoot, which included a modest ceremonial segment.

Lin Zi brought over a bouquet of flowers, and Feng Chengyu produced a ring box from his pocket.

The rings were exquisitely designed—a triple-band motif, with each band pavé-set with diamonds, matching unexpectedly well with Qin Bao’s cool aesthetic.

Qin Bao glanced at the bouquet; this time, it was simply ordinary white roses, no longer bulbous flowers.

It wasn’t that he cared, but he couldn’t quite articulate the sensation settling in his chest.

On the other side, Feng Chengyu had already extracted the slightly smaller ring.

Before the man could speak, Qin Bao reached over, took it, and slid it directly onto his own ring finger: “I’ll put it on myself.”

The metal felt icy against his skin.

Encircling his finger, it made his heart beat slightly faster.

“Alright.” Feng Chengyu raised no objection. Picking up the other band, he asked naturally, “Could you help me put mine on?”

“Troublesome.” Qin Bao only wanted to wrap this up quickly, taking the ring rather roughly: “Don’t you have hands of your own?”

Though his mouth complained, his touch remained gentle enough.

The ring slid smoothly onto Feng Chengyu’s finger.

Click.Click.

The photographer seized the timing impeccably, depressing the shutter in rapid succession to freeze the frame right at that moment.

Qin Bao felt as though he had walked into another trap somewhere.

With a heavy thud, the embossed seal was stamped down, and two bright red marriage certificates were handed into their palms.

When everything concluded, Feng Chengyu ran into an acquaintance. In the span of exchanging barely two sentences, Qin Bao had vanished. Thinking the boy had fled out of sheer embarrassment, Feng Chengyu ultimately located him right by the main entrance.

The snowfall had thickened, swirling down in fat, feather-like flakes.

Feng Chengyu asked, “Where is your coat?”

Standing by the doorway clad only in a sweatshirt, Qin Bao jerked his chin toward a spot not far away, then, seemingly regretting sharing the information, put on an expressionless face: “None of your business.”

Out in the snow stood a newlywed lesbian couple, both dressed rather lightly. One of them was draped in Qin Bao’s overcoat—visibly pregnant, looking to be about six or seven months along, her face radiant with a blissful smile, wearing a pristine white bridal veil.

Qin Bao watched them for a quiet moment, thinking who-knows-what, before suddenly turning around and sticking out his hand: “Give it to me.”

The ring on his hand had already been removed.

Feng Chengyu, who had been about to hand him his own coat, paused: “Give you what?”

“My copy of the marriage certificate.” Qin Bao looked up at him, frowning. “What else would it be?”

The bright red booklet landed in Qin Bao’s palm, feeling warm to the touch.

“Feng Chengyu, we start counting the days from today. Don’t you dare get it mixed up.” Qin Bao pivoted on his heel, waving a dismissive goodbye over his shoulder without looking back: “I’m leaving.”