What's Wrong With Rear-Ending Your Arranged Marriage Partner? He Totally Loves It - Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Qi Yan, Y-You Can Mark Me…

That night, after washing up, the two of them lay down in bed.

The rain outside hadn’t stopped. Even with the windows shut, the sound of it pattering down could still be heard.

Rainy nights like this were usually perfect for sleep. On any other day, Song Cun would’ve fallen asleep quickly—but tonight, with the doctor’s words echoing in his mind, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

If he could go into heat at any time in the next six months, it would be a huge blow to his just-budding acting career.

At eighteen, he’d been discovered by a talent scout. From modeling magazine covers to stepping into showbiz, he began earning money and slowly built the foundation for an independent life.

It was his job that pulled him away from the suffocating grip of his original family, away from the life of swallowing grievances at the Song household.

He was terrified of his career being interrupted. Terrified of losing the sense of control that gave him security.

Although being marked would make him more dependent on Qi Yan, for some reason, that fear didn’t outweigh the anxiety he felt about his future.

Could it be that, subconsciously, he already trusted Qi Yan that much?

Trusted him enough to believe that even if Qi Yan marked him, he wouldn’t manipulate him using pheromones?

When had that trust begun?

Was it the way Qi Yan stayed by his side without crossing any lines during his unexpected ruts?
The way he’d laid down cashmere rugs after Song Cun lost his slippers—twice?
The way he cared for him meticulously with three meals a day?
The search history in the home theater, all filled with things about him?
Or maybe… it was today, when he hurt his toe and was gently cradled and soothed with warm breaths?

Putting aside all those vague, uncertain feelings—real or not—Qi Yan was truly a good partner. So good that it made Song Cun forget the hostility and resistance he’d once held toward him.

Should he let Qi Yan mark him?

But even if it was just a temporary mark… how should he bring it up?

He’d had the words on the tip of his tongue many times, but just couldn’t say them.

What would Qi Yan think of him?

Would he think he was wishy-washy? That he had no shame?

Would he think Song Cun was selfish—treating him like a tool to be used when needed and cast aside when not?

These thoughts tangled in Song Cun’s mind like a knotted rope, his body unconsciously curling up into a ball.

Qi Yan, lying beside him and watching Song Cun twist and squirm like a silkworm, couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Cun Cun, are you trying to kick me out?”

“Huh?”
Song Cun turned to look at him and realized he’d stolen all the blankets onto his side.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it…”

Feeling a little awkward, Song Cun shifted the blanket back toward Qi Yan. To make sure Qi Yan didn’t misunderstand and think he was being pushed away, he even reached over, spread the blanket out over Qi Yan’s chest, and thoughtfully tucked in the corners.

The position looked just like a hug.

Half his body was hovering over Qi Yan, and in that moment, when he lowered his gaze, he met Qi Yan’s eyes directly.

In the soft, dim yellow light, they locked eyes for a second.

Song Cun quickly looked away, rolling back under the blanket, heart thudding so loudly it echoed in his ears.

“Can’t sleep?”
Qi Yan’s voice came softly from beside him.

“Mm… a little.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can sleep in the guest room.”
Qi Yan lifted the blanket, preparing to get up.

“Hey—”
Song Cun instinctively grabbed his hand.
“Who said it was because of you…”

Qi Yan’s gaze dropped to where their hands touched. Realizing what he’d done, Song Cun quickly yanked his hand back under the blanket.

“Then… is something on your mind?”
Qi Yan turned slightly to face him.
“You can talk to me if you want.”

“I…”
Song Cun turned to look at Qi Yan’s earnest expression. Hidden under the blanket, his hand clenched the sheet as he stammered,
“You… you…”

“Hmm?”

“It’s just—just…”

Song Cun bit his lip. Then suddenly, he threw back the blanket and swung one leg over, straddling Qi Yan.

If he couldn’t say it, then he’d show it with action!

Before Qi Yan could react, Song Cun leaned down and buried his face in Qi Yan’s neck, tilting his head to expose the slender, pale back of his neck.

Everything happened too fast.

Qi Yan’s body went rigid, jawline tensing, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Cun Cun… what are you doing?”

Their heartbeats crashed against each other like thunder, pounding so hard it felt like they’d leap from their chests.

Song Cun didn’t dare look at him. Face still buried against Qi Yan, he mumbled in a low, muffled voice:

“Qi Yan… y-you can mark me…”