What's Wrong With Rear-Ending Your Arranged Marriage Partner? He Totally Loves It - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Pheromones Really Are the Most Evil Thing

“A secret marriage. No going public!”

“Alright.”

Qi Yan understood completely. Song Cun was an actor—announcing his marriage out of the blue would impact his career.

“No interference. You’re not allowed to interfere with my work or personal life!”

Qi Yan nodded.

“Of course. You’re free here with me.”

All he wanted was to be a little closer to Song Cun.

But Song Cun noticed—no matter what he said, Qi Yan would always nod and smile, agreeing readily.

Maybe it was Qi Yan’s overly agreeable attitude that threw him off, but for a moment, Song Cun lost his train of thought. He had a nagging feeling he’d forgotten one very important request.

“Also… let me think…”

Song Cun frowned, trying to remember, but his stomach growled loudly.

…A little awkward.

But Qi Yan didn’t tease him.

“No rush. Take your time,” he said gently. “I’ll go cook something for you first. What would you like to eat?”

“A-Anything…” Song Cun muttered, embarrassed, clutching his stomach.

The villa had a domestic robot, but Qi Yan still chose to cook personally for Song Cun.

He stepped into the kitchen, started washing and chopping vegetables, and soon, the sound of stir-frying echoed from inside.

Song Cun leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following Qi Yan’s busy figure, but his mind was still focused on that forgotten condition.

Worried the smoke might irritate Song Cun, Qi Yan asked if he wanted to watch TV in the living room.

But Song Cun refused.

He had a terrible memory, but he also had a stubborn habit—he couldn’t rest until he remembered whatever it was he forgot.

Once, he had a song lyric stuck in his head but couldn’t recall the next line. He chose to suffer a sleepless night trying to remember it rather than look it up on his phone.

That kind of obsessive quirk flared up again now.

His eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Qi Yan, as if by staring hard enough, that forgotten condition would magically pop back into his brain.

Qi Yan had no idea what Song Cun was thinking. He only found him kind of cute—like a little kid waiting for his meal in the kitchen.

So, in a coaxing tone like speaking to a child, he smiled and said, “Dinner’s almost ready. Just wait a little longer.”

If it weren’t for the cooking oil on his hands, he really wanted to reach out and ruffle Song Cun’s soft hair.

Just when Song Cun felt like he was close to remembering, Qi Yan interrupted him again.

“I’m not waiting for food!” he huffed, annoyed.

The moment the words left his mouth, his stomach growled loudly again.

He shot Qi Yan a glare, silently warning him not to laugh—but Qi Yan didn’t even try. He just turned up the heat and skillfully tossed the food in the pan.

Moments later—Three dishes and a soup were served on the table. Qi Yan took off his apron and looked slightly apologetic.

“Did I keep you waiting too long? I’ll start earlier next time.”

Song Cun dug into his meal, deliberately tuning out Qi Yan’s voice like he was under some kind of noise-canceling spell.

He was still racking his brain for that condition.

It felt so important—how could he forget it?

Shovel rice, chew chew chew.

Getting madder and madder.

Qi Yan didn’t eat much himself—he just kept watching Song Cun eat and occasionally added more food to his bowl.
Even if Song Cun clearly didn’t want to talk, his appetite seemed pretty good.

One bowl down, and Song Cun still hadn’t remembered.

Qi Yan naturally scooped him another bowl of rice.

As Song Cun watched those pale, slender fingers gracefully handle the rice spoon, he couldn’t help thinking—What beautiful hands…

Wait—no, no, no!

Why the hell was he admiring Qi Yan’s hands?!

Frustrated, Song Cun shook his head hard and slapped himself on the forehead.

Come on, brain—remember already!

“Cun Cun, are you alright?”

Qi Yan stood up, concern on his face.

“Do you feel unwell somewhere?”

Before Song Cun could react, Qi Yan had already walked over and leaned down close to him.

A faint wisp of pheromones drifted into Song Cun’s nose—this was the first time he had smelled an alpha’s pheromones since differentiating as an omega.

It smelled so good. He wanted more. He wanted to get closer.

He felt an uncontrollable urge to lean toward the back of Qi Yan’s neck.

Under his neatly trimmed short hair was a slender, pale neck, with a scent-suppressing patch covering his gland—the source of that intoxicating pheromone.

His brain short-circuited. He actually wanted to tear off Qi Yan’s suppression patch.

Just as his fingers began to reach behind Qi Yan’s neck—“Cun Cun…” Qi Yan called softly.

His fingers froze mid-air.

Snapping back to his senses, Song Cun shoved Qi Yan away.

Pheromones really are the most evil thing!

Just now—he had nearly lost control of himself.

That feeling—of being driven by nothing but pheromone-induced desire—made him instinctively afraid.

Qi Yan staggered back a little from the sudden shove. But he wasn’t angry. He just looked at Song Cun with concern.

“Cun Cun, what’s wrong?”

“Stay away from me!” Song Cun shouted, standing abruptly. The dining chair screeched sharply across the floor.

“I don’t want to smell your pheromones!”

Qi Yan stopped in his tracks, frozen for a moment, before raising a hand to cover the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry… I’ll be more careful next time.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but before he could, Song Cun turned and ran upstairs with a loud thump thump thump.

Upstairs.

Song Cun stood at the bedroom door, a bit dazed.

Then it hit him—he’d already moved into Qi Yan’s home.

Right! He finally remembered!

That very important condition—he remembered it!

Just then, Qi Yan came upstairs carrying Song Cun’s luggage.

Afraid he’d forget again, Song Cun blurted it out right away:

“We’re sleeping in separate rooms!”

Qi Yan wasn’t surprised at all.

Not when Song Cun said he had been forced into this marriage.

Not when he’d pushed Qi Yan away and said he didn’t want to smell his pheromones.

Qi Yan stopped a few steps away and said gently,

“Don’t worry. I won’t force you.”

For a moment, Song Cun thought he saw sadness and disappointment flicker across Qi Yan’s face.

He suddenly felt like he was bullying someone too honest, and quickly looked away, forcing a colder tone.

“Also… you’re not allowed to use your pheromones to manipulate me. And definitely no marking.”