What's Wrong With Rear-Ending Your Arranged Marriage Partner? He Totally Loves It - Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Cun Cun, What Do You Want Me to Do…

Song Cun suddenly recalled the night they got their marriage certificate—how he had aggressively told Qi Yan, “You’re not allowed to mark me!”

And now, hearing the doctor say “Just have your alpha mark you,” Song Cun felt like some invisible force was orchestrating his life. Every time he set up a flag, it would collapse almost immediately, catching him off guard.

The deep-seated beliefs rooted in his bones made him feel that being marked was a terrifying thing—it meant placing his life into someone else’s hands.

When he was very young, he had witnessed more than once his mother arguing with his father. She would cry and accuse him of marking her when she was young and naïve, using his pheromones to control her. After she gave birth, he revealed his true colors. His father, cold and contemptuous, would sneer,

“In this world, weakness is a sin. Omegas are born to submit to alphas.”

A young Song Cun, hiding in his room, hadn’t fully understood what the adults were saying back then. But even so, some seeds had already been planted deep inside him.

“Young man, first time in love, huh?”

The doctor, seeing that Song Cun had been frozen in place for a long while, offered kindly, “If your relationship is still a bit shaky, you could start with a temporary mark.”

…

After leaving the pheromone clinic, Song Cun was silent, his face gloomy. Chen Jie was so scared he thought Song Cun had just been diagnosed with something serious.

“Cun-ge, are you okay…?”

Song Cun looked dazed—just like someone walking out of a hospital after being told they had cancer.

“Cun-ge, you’re freaking me out!”

Finally, Song Cun’s eyes regained some focus. He suddenly asked Chen Jie, “Is the gland removal procedure mature yet in the country?”

Chen Jie nearly lost control of the steering wheel, horrified.

“C-Cun-ge… Did they find something wrong with your glands?!”

Song Cun shook his head.

“No. It’s just… feels like too much trouble. Might as well remove them—save the hassle.”

“What?!”
Chen Jie had just breathed a sigh of relief but now his jaw dropped again.
“No way! Don’t be impulsive! At worst, we can just take fewer acting gigs for now. No need to mess with your body like that!”

Song Cun nodded.

“Fair point.”

He didn’t expect money-obsessed Chen Jie to say something so heartfelt. After all, if Song Cun took fewer roles, Chen Jie’s income would take a hit too.

Just as Song Cun was starting to feel touched, Chen Jie grinned and said, “But even if you want them removed, at least wait until after next month’s film is finished!”

“…..”

“H-Hey, don’t glare at me like that, Cun-ge…”
Chen Jie almost lost his grip on the wheel again.
“That movie’s already signed! We can’t afford to pay the penalty if we back out!”

Yeah… they couldn’t afford it.

…

Song Cun trudged back into the villa with his head hanging.

“Welcome home, young master!”
2099 zoomed up enthusiastically.
“What would young master like for lunch?”

“No appetite. I’ll skip lunch.”
Song Cun, looking utterly deflated, brushed past 2099 and headed upstairs.

Does he really have to let Qi Yan mark him?

His mind was at war. One side was filled with unease over the idea of being marked, the other side felt embarrassed about going back on his own words.

He collapsed into bed, thoughts racing.

Eventually, he drifted off.

He felt cold. Reaching around for the blanket, he couldn’t find it.

Maybe 2099 took it out to sun-dry.

Song Cun curled up, rubbing his arms for warmth.

Then, warmth arrived from behind. He felt himself being pulled into a comforting embrace.

A familiar cedarwood scent surrounded him. Song Cun instinctively snuggled closer into the person’s chest.

A large hand slid over his waist, slowly moving upward, inch by inch.

His gland was burning—his breath came out hot.

“Qi Yan…”

What responded to him was a soft, calming touch.

A long, slender hand gently caressed the back of his neck, fingertips tracing slow circles over the sensitive spot where his gland lay.

His throat moved—he felt a little thirsty. He called again, voice low and hoarse:

“Qi Yan…”

The room filled with increasingly heavy breathing.

The man behind him buried his face into Song Cun’s neck, his breath damp and warm. Song Cun’s whole body flushed, a muffled sound escaping from his throat.

The hand around his waist tightened, and a deep, husky voice whispered hotly against his ear:

“Cun Cun, what do you want me to do…”