Extra 3...

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“A Marked Prosecutor Han”

Han Zhang’s 56th birthday wasn’t marked with much fanfare. Supposedly, he had only invited a few close friends and family for a small gathering. That afternoon, however, the people who had come to celebrate his birthday rushed to the Han house, practically trampling through the lawn out front, coming and going as if it were a large-scale western-style party.

Han Bohan was dressed in a suit and tie. The suit hugged his figure perfectly, emphasising his long legs and slender waist. He looked both tall and handsome.

He wasn’t all that fond of socialising, but as he was Han Zhang’s only son, he had no choice but to receive the guests who came through the door of the first floor drawing room. There were an abundance of young Alphas about, and their gazes followed his every move, but he paid no attention to them, remaining politely aloof no matter who he was facing.

Zheng Xujiang was also present. He was nominally Han Zhang’s student, and as a close friend of the Hans, he half-played the role of a host, coming in and out to greet guests as they arrived.

“Take a short break if you feel tired,” he advised Han Bohan.

Han Bohan only gave him a flat response. “I’m not tired.” He then turned and walked away.

Han Zhang noticed the atmosphere between them and later spoke privately with Han Bohan. “If you don’t care about Zheng Xujiang, that’s fine. But it’s about time you think about your future.”

Han Bohan was thirty years old this year.

In the blink of an eye, two years had passed since he was kidnapped and given a temporary mark by Sun Yao. The effects of the temporary mark had long since faded, but an Alpha capable of giving him a permanent mark had never appeared.

The phone in Han Bohan’s pocket vibrated lightly. He walked over to a corner and took it out to see Sun Yao had sent a text—a short, two-word message: I’m back.

After his release two years ago, Sun Yao had left. He said that he would be leaving town to do business with a friend. Before leaving, he borrowed 200,000 yuan from Han Bohan and settled his daughter in a decent sanatorium. Perhaps, the days he spent locked up in the detention centre had made Sun Yao restless; he realised that there was no way he could guarantee a lifetime without mishaps to care for Sun Xunyan. What he most needed was money, and only with money could he ensure that Sun Xunyan continued to receive the best care, even after he died one day.

Back then, Han Bohan hadn’t said a word and directly transferred the 200,000 to Sun Yao.

Sun Yao had been out of town these past two years, not even returning for Chinese New Year. They both had each other’s contact information, but they had practically never gotten in touch. Only during the New Year this year did Han Bohan receive a transfer notice worth 100,000 yuan, which was followed by a message from Sun Yao that said: Happy New Year.

He stared at that text message for a long time, and replied with a simple “Happy New Year”. There was no follow up.

Han Bohan’s mind went blank for a moment after suddenly receiving Sun Yao’s text. After a few minutes of standing in the unusually quiet corner, he texted his mother: “Something came up. I’m heading out.” Then, he fetched his car keys and wallet and rushed out.

Han Bohan knew where Sun Yao would be headed. When he returned after two years, the first thing he’d do was pay a visit to Sun Xunyan.

The road to the sanatorium was somewhat congested, but Han Bohan was neither anxious nor impatient. In truth, he didn’t know how he felt about Sun Yao right now—it was just that, over the last two years, he would think of Sun Yao from time to time, would have flashbacks of the humid and stuffy house and the bed that was covered in his bodily fluids.

In his subsequent heats, Han Bohan had recalled the scent of Sun Yao’s pheromones as well as his warm kisses, which comprised his only kissing experience in his entire thirty-year life. He wasn’t some kind of exquisite flower on a mountain peak, untouchable and out of reach—he was just particularly pure, nothing more.

Before last year’s New Year’s, Han Bohan had gone to the sanatorium to visit Sun Xunyan. Sun Xunyan’s complexion looked great; it was clear that she was receiving excellent care there. Han Bohan had brought flowers, and he had only stayed in her room for a few minutes before leaving. He didn’t have anything to say to Sun Xunyan. He came to see her solely because she was Sun Yao’s daughter.

He pulled up on the curb outside the sanatorium. Han Bohan didn’t rush inside. He dialed Sun Yao’s number.

The call quickly connected, and Sun Yao’s deep, masculine voice rang out, “Prosecutor Han?”

After a brief pause, Han Bohan inquired, “Are you at the sanatorium?”

“I am,” Sun Yao replied.

“I’m outside,” Han Bohan said softly. “Can I come in and see you guys?”

Sun Yao appeared to be a little taken aback. He remained silent for a brief moment before responding, “Of course. Thank you, Prosecutor Han.”

Han Bohan parked his car in the sanatorium’s parking lot, took a deep breath, then opened the door and got out of the car.

He realised that the closer he got to Sun Yao, the more difficult it became to maintain his composure. He couldn’t focus, his heart raced faster and faster, and even taking deep breaths couldn’t ease his anxiety. His brows were furrowed as he stood in the elevator, feeling he was in a rather terrible state. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was anticipation—or fear.

The door of Sun Xunyan’s room was wide open. When Han Bohan walked in, he saw Sun Yao leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed on his chest, long legs stretched out casually.

Sun Yao was more tanned and slimmer than he was two years ago. There were uneven lines between his brows and at the corners of his eyes, but he was full of vigour, his eyes were bright and his gaze was profound, and his short hair set off his face and highlighted his handsome, distinct features.

When he saw Han Bohan walk in, Sun Yao straightened up. He was dressed in a black trench coat, and his tall stature complemented his attire perfectly. He approached Han Bohan slowly and extended his hand. “Prosecutor Han.”

Han Bohan glanced down at his callused palm and reached out to take his hand. “Hi, long time no see.”

The air was tinged with a faint blend of pheromones.

Han Bohan had injected a suppressant that lasted three months rather than a year. He couldn’t explain why he made this decision—it was as if, deep down, he was preparing for something.

They shook hands and parted moments later.

Sun Yao looked Han Bohan in the eyes and asked, “If you’re free tonight, would you like to get dinner? I’ve accompanied Yanyan for quite a while, it’s almost time to go.”

Not long after Han Bohan left his house, Han Zhang had called him, furious. Han Bohan simply told him that he had urgent matters to attend to, ignored Han Zhang’s ire, and ended the call at an upcoming intersection. He had no intention of bringing it up now though, only nodding and calmly agreeing, “Sure.”

They didn’t take Han Bohan’s car after stepping out of the sanatorium. Sun Yao took Han Bohan to a roadside diner, and the two men went in to have dinner together. The diner looked quite clean at first glance, but only after taking their seats did they discover that the cracks on the wall at a corner of the table were filled with grime.

Sun Yao carefully wiped the tabletop in front of Han Bohan with a napkin. “This place isn’t that nice, could you make do?” he asked as he wiped it clean. Han Bohan was dressed immaculately; in a place like this, he truly looked out of place.

“It’s fine,” Han Bohan said calmly.

Sun Yao gave him a sidelong glance. “You haven’t changed at all.” His pheromones, for one, were still those of a pure Omega, subtly clear and sweet.

Han Bohan lowered his head slightly. Rather than talking about himself, he asked Sun Yao, “Have these last two years been tough on you?”

Sun Yao chuckled. “Not at all.”

In fact, he’d weathered through many, many hardships, the most difficult being the time he drove a truck full of goods that broke down in the mountains, forcing him to spend the night in a truck with a temperature of more than ten degrees below zero. He had rubbed his hands bloody and gradually recovered afterwards; if you didn’t look too closely, you wouldn’t even notice the scars.

“No matter what came at me, I’d be able to get through it as long as I thought about Yanyan,” Sun Yao said calmly.

Han Bohan looked into his eyes and lowered his gaze again not a second later, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ll return the rest of the money in a few days when my friend transfers it to my account,” Sun Yao continued.

When he heard this, Han Bohan said, “Take your time.” As he stared at the jug of water that lacked a spout in bemusement, he thought inwardly, once this one hundred thousand yuan was returned, there would really no longer be anything tying them together.

Sun Yao stared at him in silence for a long time. “Have you met the right person?”

Han Bohan quickly responded, “I haven’t.”

Sun Yao didn’t say anything at that, only leaning back slightly and letting out a soft and shallow exhale.

During dinner, the two men drank a small amount of alcohol.

Han Bohan wasn’t much of a drinker, but he didn’t say no when Sun Yao asked. Accompanying Sun Yao to drink was a rare opportunity.

Two cups of baijiu later, Han Bohan felt his body heating up. He loosened his tie and undid a couple buttons of his shirt, and his wide open collar revealed a peek of his delicate collarbones.

Sun Yao drew the cup in his slender fingers to his lips and sipped the searing baijiu slowly. His gaze was drawn to Han Bohan’s collar, and his thoughts drifted to the memory of his soft and delicate skin, how a light suck was all it took to leave a red mark.

Han Bohan drank and barely touched his food. He was still sober, though a little excited; it was as if the alcohol amplified every small emotion, and his body grew hotter and hotter.

The Alpha in the group of eight who were drinking at a table next to theirs turned his head to look their way.

Han Bohan’s Omega pheromones suffused with the alcohol in the air, becoming heavier and heavier.

Sun Yao put his cup down, saying, “We’re done here, let’s go.”

There was a flight of stairs beneath their feet as they exited the diner. Han Bohan was unaware of this and stepped on air, causing his body to fall sideways.

Sun Yao reached out to support him, an arm to his waist that left it as quickly as it came. He said, “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” Han Bohan said. He fished his phone out of his pocket to call a substitute driver.

Sun Yao abruptly grabbed his hand, preventing him from opening the substitute driver app, and said, “Come to my place for a while. I’m staying at a hotel nearby.”

Han Bohan looked at him uncomprehendingly.

The smell of Omega pheromones in the air grew stronger and stronger.

Sun Yao was gripping Han Bohan’s hand tightly, tight enough to almost hurt.

Han Bohan eventually gave a small nod.

Sun Yao stayed at a cheap motel nearby. Despite the fact that his financial situation had improved, he was used to being frugal and was hesitant to stay in a good hotel, so it appeared that he’d found a random motel to make do with for one night.

The moment Han Bohan entered the room, he was greeted by a musty odor. Aside from the smell of mold, there was probably a hint of something else as well—no need to say what it was, it didn’t smell good anyway.

The room was small. There was a double bed in the centre of the room, as well as a TV cabinet and a chair next to the bed.

A frosted glass wall separated the bathroom and bedroom; one’s silhouette would be visible from the outside if the lights were turned on inside.

Sun Yao invited him to sit, and said, “Wait until you sober up a little before you leave.”

Han Bohan sat down and watched as Sun Yao opened the curtains slightly.

Then Sun Yao sat on the edge of the bed, silently staring at Han Bohan.

Han Bohan looked a little unwell. He took off his tie, unfastened his suit, and undid a few buttons of his shirt.

Sun Yao stood up and asked, “Are you all right? I’ll heat up some water for you.”

When Sun Yao passed him, Han Bohan raised his head and said, “It’s hot.” His face was stained with an unnatural flush.

The hint of Omega pheromones in the air hadn’t dissipated, but had instead become denser by the minute.

Sun Yao stopped in his tracks and reached out to feel Han Bohan’s forehead, which was burning hot to the touch. At first, he thought Han Bohan was drunk, but now it seemed that things weren’t so simple.

Han Bohan angled his head and looked up at Sun Yao. The corners of his eyes were tinged red. “Your pheromones,” he said. Sun Yao’s pheromones—that familiar, pleasant scent—were all around him, gradually becoming stronger until it almost enveloped him whole.

Sun Yao said, “You’re seducing me—so you know that you’re about to go into heat?”

Han Bohan’s breaths were searing. His attention was solely on Sun Yao, and a moment later, he said, “I do.”

“Why didn’t you take your suppressants?” Sun Yao asked.

Han Bohan didn’t answer him this time.

Sun Yao bent down and looked him straight in the eye, crooking his index finger to tickle his cheek gentle with the knuckle. It then slowly slid down from his ear to his nape, pressing against Han Bohan’s glands. “Answer me.”

Han Bohan was starting to shiver. Despite his calm composure, he couldn’t hide the faraway look in his eyes. He asked Sun Yao, “Answer what?”

Sun Yao pressed his fingers against Han Bohan’s glands. His tone was unyielding, and he continued, “I don’t deserve you.” In every aspect, he had no idea what qualifications he had to compete against other Alphas for an Omega like this.

Han Bohan looked him in the eyes and asked, “What don’t you deserve?”

“I don’t deserve your everything—but I still want to mark you,” Sun Yao said with a smile. “If you don’t want it, push me away now.”

There were many things Sun Yao hadn’t told Han Bohan, such as how, in the last two years, he had been determined to make money not only for Sun Xunyan, but also for Han Bohan; how, on countless days and nights, the image of Han Bohan with a face full of tears as he reached out to him emerged in the forefronts of his mind over and over, and how he would constantly dream of trying to hold onto Han Bohan’s hand yet never could.

He hadn’t said anything to Han Bohan before leaving. The future was too uncertain, and he wasn’t sure what would happen to them, so he hadn’t dared to ask Han Bohan to wait for him. But at the time, he’d thought that if Han Bohan was still single by the time he returned, then he must mark him—make Han Bohan his Omega.

Sun Yao waited for Han Bohan’s final decision, but at that very moment, Han Bohan threw his arms around Sun Yao’s shoulders without the slightest hesitation and devoured his lips.

☆ ☆ ☆

Thank you to Cocole for the kofi!

t/n – one more!

⟵ Extra III Part 5 | TOC | Extra III Part 7 (END) ⟶

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