Mooving, Banter, Family
It was Saturday, and the skyline of the city was a blur of movement. The "Summer of Chaos"—as Min-ji liked to call it—was officially coming to a close. They had spent three months gutting their competitors, merging empires, and essentially running the city’s economy from their laptops. Now, with the first day of University at Fei Wang looming on Monday, they were ditching the old penthouse for a massive, multi-wing stronghold near campus.
The new place was ridiculous. It was a sprawling, high-security penthouse that took up the entire top floor of a building that looked like it was designed by a Bond villain. It was divided into three distinct wings: Min-ji had her own sanctuary, Min-ho and Yuki were bunkered down in the second, and Shen and Liang had the master wing.
The movers were working at a breakneck pace, hauling high-end electronics, designer clothes, and enough server equipment to host a small country’s government, but the five of them were the real chaos agents.
"If one more person touches my fucking vintage wine collection, I’m going to make sure their bloodline ends today," Min-ji yelled, standing in the middle of her wing, pointing a manicured finger at a terrified mover. "Those crates are marked 'Fragile,' not 'Football!' Use your fucking brain!"
In the living room, Min-ho was literally wrestling a massive, high-tech server rack into place while Yuki followed behind him with a clipboard, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm.
"Min-ho, if that drops, we lose three weeks of encrypted data. Please, for the love of god, stop trying to show off your biceps and let the professionals do it!" Yuki squeaked.
"I am the professional, Yuki! Movers don't know how to handle the proprietary stuff!" Min-ho grunted, shoving the unit into the wall mount with a deafening thud.
In the center of this hurricane, Liang was standing by the window, staring at a stack of documents. He looked... off. He was swaying slightly, his brow furrowed as he tried to focus on the paperwork. He dropped a pen, stared at it for a solid five seconds, and then just sighed, leaving it on the floor.
Shen noticed immediately. He didn't even look up from his own tablet, but his Enigma senses were screaming. He could smell it—a faint, underlying scent of sweetness, like honey left in the sun too long, creeping into Liang’s usual Cedar and Ozone.
Shen dropped his tablet onto the sofa, the screen blacking out. He crossed the room in two strides, his shadow falling over Liang.
"You’re lagging, Alpha," Shen said, his voice clipped.
Liang blinked, his eyes unfocused. "I’m just... tired. The move. The merger. My brain feels like it’s made of lead."
"When’s your next heat supposed to be?" Shen asked, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its joking quality.
Liang frowned, his head tilting. "Heat? I don't know. I’ve been so busy with the Uni enrollment and the Kangs' logistics... I honestly forgot to check the calendar."
"You forgot," Shen deadpanned, his jaw tightening.
"I’m fine, Shen. Stop hovering. I just need coffee." Liang tried to push past him, but Shen caught him by the waist, his hand hot against Liang’s hip.
Liang stumbled, his knees buckling slightly, his internal temperature spiking. "Shit. Okay, maybe I’m not fine."
"You’re an idiot," Shen hissed, but there was no malice in it, only sharp, possessive concern. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped heat-suppressing patch.
"Shen, I’m working—"
"You’re not working on anything except staying vertical," Shen cut him off.
Before Liang could argue, Shen ripped the backing off the patch. He shoved Liang’s collar aside, pressing the patch firmly against the sensitive skin of his neck. The cool gel hit Liang’s fever-warm skin, instantly releasing a stream of blockers into his bloodstream. Liang groaned, his eyes rolling back as the overwhelming biological fog lifted, replaced by a dull, manageable ache.
"Better?" Shen asked, his thumb tracing the edge of the patch.
Liang leaned his head against Shen’s shoulder, a frustrated huff escaping his lips. "I hate that you’re always right."
"I’m not always right," Shen muttered, pulling him into a hug. "I’m just the only one around here with a functioning memory. Go sit on the couch before you fall over and embarrass me in front of the movers."
"Fuck you," Liang grumbled, but he let Shen steer him toward the sofa.
"Fuck you too, babe," Shen smirked, kissing the top of his head. "Now sit. I’ve got to go yell at Min-ji before she murders the entire moving crew."
"They deserve it," Liang mumbled, already sinking into the plush leather, his eyelids getting heavy as the patch worked its magic.
Shen turned around, his expression shifting from soft to lethal as he walked toward Min-ji’s wing, where the sound of glass shattering echoed through the penthouse.
"Min-ji! If I hear one more threat against the staff, I’m locking your wing and taking your phone!" Shen roared, his voice echoing through the massive new home.
"Fuck off, Shen! They’re ruining the shoe rack!" Min-ji screamed back.
Liang let out a soft laugh, closing his eyes. It was Saturday, they were surrounded by chaos, he was two days away from Uni, and he couldn't wait to see how the hell they were going to survive the next two years.
Shen was in the middle of folding a stack of cashmere sweaters when the sound tore through the air—a raw, guttural scream that made his blood run cold. It wasn't a scream of pain, but a primal, biological explosion.
A second later, it was followed by a high-pitched shriek from Yuki.
Shen didn't think; he didn't even drop the sweater. He was a blur of motion, exploding out of the master wing and into the living room.
Liang was doubled over on the floor, his hands clawing at his chest, his eyes blown wide with an uncontrollable, violet-rimmed panic. The scent of his heat was suddenly so thick, so sweet and intoxicating, that it hit Shen like a physical wall. It wasn't just a heat—it was an S-Class Alpha heat, compounded by the stress of the move and the Enigma bond. It was radioactive.
Yuki was pinned against the wall, eyes wide, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. "HE JUST—HE JUST FUCKING EXPLODED!"
"Out of the way!" Shen barked, his voice vibrating with Enigma authority.
He didn't waste a second. He scooped Liang up, the Alpha’s body burning hot enough to blister skin. Liang was thrashing, his fingernails digging into Shen’s shoulders.
"Don't—don't you dare start the movie," Shen growled at Min-ho and Min-ji, who were standing by the snack table with bags of chips frozen in their hands. "And Yuki, for the love of god, stop screaming. I’m handling it. Do not touch the snacks, I’m serious."
Shen kicked the master bedroom door shut with his heel, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
Inside, the room was stifling. The air was heavy with pheromones, thick enough to taste. Shen dropped Liang onto the bed, but Liang was already climbing all over him, his shirt shredded in the frantic struggle.
"Shen... fuck... it's too much," Liang gasped, his skin glistening with sweat, his eyes searching for Shen’s like a drowning man.
Shen didn't bother with clothes. He ripped his own shirt off and pinned Liang down, his Enigma presence expanding to fill every inch of the room, acting as an anchor for Liang’s wild, spiraling energy.
"I've got you," Shen murmured, his voice a low, commanding rumble against Liang's fever-flushed skin.
He didn't wait for foreplay; there wasn't time. He drove into Liang with a single, brutal thrust, and the room seemed to shatter. Liang let out a cry that was half-sob, his body arching off the mattress. The friction was electric. The heat was a beast, and they were fighting it with everything they had.
Shen hammered into him, relentless and possessive. Every time Liang tried to pull away, driven by the instinct to find relief, Shen hauled him back, his Enigma pheromones dousing Liang in a dominant, soothing cloud.
"You belong to me," Shen gritted out, slamming his hips against Liang’s, burying himself so deep it felt like they were trying to merge their skeletons. "You don't fight the heat. You fucking use it."
Liang was sobbing now, his legs wrapped tightly around Shen’s waist, his nails raking furrows into Shen’s back. He couldn't think, couldn't see; he was just a vessel for the sensation. When he came, it was violent and shuddering, his body convulsing around Shen’s thick cock. Shen followed a second later, a roar tearing from his throat, his knot locking them together in a throbbing, pulse-pounding finish that left them both gasping for air.
An hour later, the bedroom door opened.
Shen walked out, looking calm, composed, and annoyingly refreshed. Liang stumbled out behind him, looking like he’d just been hit by a freight train. His hair was a bird's nest, his skin was blotchy, and he was walking with a slight, suggestive limp that made Min-ji smirk.
"Rough day at the office?" Min-ji cracked, tossing a bag of popcorn at him.
Liang groaned, collapsing onto the sofa and burying his face in a pillow. "Fuck off, Min-ji."
"He looks like he lost a fight with a lawnmower," Min-ho chuckled, leaning over the back of the couch. "Hey, you good, King? You still have two more waves of that, right?"
"Don't remind me," Liang muffled into the cushion.
Shen walked over to the snack table, grabbing a handful of pretzels. "He’s fine. Just needs fluids and a movie that doesn't require brain cells."
"We picked The Fast and the Furious," Yuki piped up, looking a little more recovered now that the pheromone air was clearing out. "Seemed appropriate given how fast Liang went from 'calm' to 'supernova'."
"I hate all of you," Liang grumbled, but he reached out and grabbed Shen’s hand, pulling him down onto the couch.
Shen settled in, draping an arm around Liang’s shoulders and pulling him into his side. Liang let out a long, shuddering breath, his body finally starting to regulate.
"Okay," Liang muttered, squinting at the TV as the opening credits started. "But if anyone mentions the scream, I’m deleting your Netflix accounts."
"Your secret is safe with us," Min-ho grinned, grabbing the remote. "Mostly because we’re too busy trying to figure out how you didn't break the bed during round one."
"Just push play, asshole," Liang snapped, though he was already leaning into Shen’s chest, the tension of the heat finally receding enough for him to function.
They spent the rest of the evening in a chaotic mess of movie quotes, half-eaten snacks, and Liang occasionally zoning out as the next wave started to build in his blood. It was absurd, it was stressful, and it was perfect.
"Shen," Liang whispered, his eyes widening.
"Already on it," Shen said, standing up before Liang could even finish the sentence. "Pause the movie, guys. Round two."
Shen was in the kitchen, casually debating whether the vintage red or the crisp white would pair better with the stress of a move, when the silence of the penthouse was shattered.
It wasn't a normal scream. It was a sound that vibrated through the floorboards—a deep, jagged cry from Liang, followed by a chorus of panicked, choking gasps from the living room.
Shen dropped the wine bottle on the counter and bolted.
He skidded into the living room and felt the air pressure drop. It was a absolute shitshow. Yuki was on his knees, clawing at his throat, his face a ghostly shade of pale. Min-ji was splayed out on the floor, her limbs locked in a full-body spasm, and Min-ho was barely hanging on, his head buried in his arms as he tried to block out the suffocating, crushing weight of the room.
The air smelled like ozone, burnt honey, and pure, concentrated dominance. It was Liang’s S-Class heat, but it was being amplified by Shen’s own Enigma pheromones, which were leaking out in raw, protective pulses. It was a toxic cocktail. To anyone who wasn't a mate, it was like being caught in the blast radius of a nuclear reaction.
"Get out!" Shen roared, his Enigma aura flaring, effectively shoving the others toward the guest wing with a wave of sheer psychic pressure. "Get the hell out of the living room, now!"
He didn't wait for them to move. He lunged forward, scooped Liang into his arms—the Alpha was burning up, his skin radiating so much heat it was turning the air around him into a haze—and sprinted for the master wing.
An hour later, the room was quiet, save for the hum of the AC trying to fight the lingering warmth. Liang was sprawled across the bed, utterly annihilated. His eyes were half-lidded, his body twitching with the ghost of the last wave.
Shen sat on the edge of the bed, his chest heaving, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Dad," Shen said, his voice unusually sharp. "That wasn't normal. The pheromones... they weren't just Liang’s. It was like mine were... bleeding into his. Min-ho and the others could have died. Is that supposed to happen?"
There was a pause on the other end, followed by the dry, amused voice of his father.
"It’s not just normal, Shen; it’s inevitable," Hua Yong said, sounding like he was lecturing a slow student. "When you bind two predators of that magnitude—an S-Class Alpha and an Enigma—you create a feedback loop. You aren't just partners; you’re an ecosystem. When Wenlang has his heat, he pulls from me. He acts like a conduit, drawing on my energy to sustain his own. If you’re pushing your power into him, he’s going to manifest it. Control your damn pheromones, and he’ll stop weaponizing them."
Shen hung up the phone, staring at it for a long moment before letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "A conduit," he muttered.
Liang shifted, his hand lazily groping for Shen’s. "What did he say?"
"He said we’re a hazard to the public," Shen smirked, leaning down to kiss Liang’s forehead. "And that I need to learn to keep my pheromones in check before I accidentally kill the help."
"They're not 'the help,' they're our friends," Liang mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Although... Yuki did look pretty funny when he was trying to crawl away."
"He looked like he was being erased from reality," Shen laughed.
They got up slowly, Liang moving like he’d been run over by a tank. They wandered back into the living room, where the others were already recovering, nursing glasses of water and looking traumatized.
"I thought I was dying," Yuki wheezed as they walked in. "Seriously. My brain just turned off. I forgot how to breathe."
"You were fine, stop being dramatic," Liang said, though he sank gratefully into the couch, burying himself under a mountain of blankets. "Shen’s dad confirmed it’s a biological thing. I'm a conduit or something. Basically, I’m the battery, and he’s the charger, and you guys are the unlucky spectators."
"Spectators? We were collateral damage!" Min-ji snapped, throwing a throw pillow at Liang. "My mascara is ruined. I was mid-blink and my soul left my body."
"Well, look on the bright side," Min-ho said, nudging the snack bowl toward them with his foot. "Liang just nuked his entire system. You're tapped out, right, King? No more heats for a while?"
Liang let out a long, satisfied sigh, his eyes drifting shut. He felt empty—in a good way. The volatile, raw energy that had been buzzing under his skin for weeks had been completely spent.
"Yeah," Liang whispered, his voice soft. "I'm done. I think I've got enough energy left to finish this movie, and that's about it."
"Good," Shen said, sliding onto the couch behind him and pulling him close. "Because if you have another explosion like that, we're moving to an island. Alone."
"With no movies?" Liang chuckled, his head dropping onto Shen’s chest.
"With no people," Shen corrected, kissing his hair. "But since we're staying, pass the popcorn. We've got a movie to finish."
The tension broke. Min-ho hit play on the remote, and as the film started back up, the "shitshow" became just another story for their pack, another chaotic memory in the life of the city’s newest, most dangerous dynasty.
Sunday morning arrived with the kind of golden, lazy sunlight that felt illegal after the brutal, adrenaline-soaked three months they’d just survived. The penthouse belonging to the "Council of Six" was already buzzing. By the time Liang, Shen, Min-ho, Min-ji, and Yuki arrived, the place smelled like a five-star restaurant and felt like a high-security bunker.
As the elevator doors slid open, they were met with a sight that made Liang almost turn around and run. The six dads—Hua Yong, Wenlang, Gao Tu, Shaoyou, and the two Kang parents—were standing in a row, wearing matching aprons that said ‘World’s Best Dads’ in glittery letters.
"Oh, god," Min-ji muttered, covering her face. "Tell me we aren't doing the apron thing. Please tell me Hua Yong didn't actually agree to wear glitter."
Hua Yong looked down at his chest, his face completely unamused. "Your father, Wenlang, bought them. I’m currently plotting his demise."
"I heard that!" Wenlang chirped, walking out of the kitchen with a massive platter of roasted duck. "Welcome, children! Leave your stress at the door. No CEO talk, no mergers, no talking about 'liquidating assets' until at least midnight."
"Good luck with that," Gao Tu laughed, clapping Liang on the back. "The boy looks like he’s been through a war. How was the heat, Liang? You look like you’ve aged five years."
Liang smirked, casting a side-glance at Shen. "It was... an experience. I think I’ve officially retired from being a person for the next forty-eight hours."
"Go sit," Shaoyou commanded, pointing toward the dining table that stretched across the entire penthouse. "We made a buffet. If I see a single person checking their phone, I’m throwing it into the skyline."
The dinner was absolute carnage in the best way possible. The spread was absurd—everything from high-end sashimi to comfort food that looked like it had been cooked for an army.
The banter was relentless.
"So," the Kang father asked, piling a mountain of wagyu onto Min-ho’s plate. "I hear you were trying to tell a logistics manager he was 'expendable' last week?"
Min-ho choked on his drink. "Who told you that?"
"Yuki," Min-ji tattled, grabbing a shrimp. "He sent dads a play-by-play of every time we were assholes this summer. He’s the world’s worst snitch."
Yuki didn't even look up from his plate, shoving a dumpling into his mouth. "I have to justify my salary somehow. Besides, they deserved to know that Min-ho threatened to buy their competitor just to spite them."
"It wasn't spite, it was a sound financial decision!" Min-ho defended, pointing a chopstick at his father. "And for the record, it worked. They signed the contract two hours later."
"See?" Wenlang sighed, shaking his head. "They’re growing up too fast. Can we go back to when they were just throwing tantrums and not threatening the local economy?"
"Never," Hua Yong said, sipping his wine. "But they are getting better at the threat part. The Li family erasure was... well-executed."
Liang felt a sudden swell of pride. He looked around the table—his dads, his uncles, his mate, his friends,—and realized that for the first time in his life, he didn't feel like a King or an Enigma. He just felt like a son.
"You guys really went all out," Liang said, his voice quiet, drawing everyone’s attention. "You didn't have to do this. We’re adults now. We have our own place."
Gao Tu leaned forward, his grin softening. "We know you’re adults, kid. But you’re still our kids. And honestly? This is the last night before you all scatter into the university system. We just wanted one last night where you didn't have to carry the weight of the city."
"Besides," Shaoyou added, "we wanted to see if Shen would actually eat something that wasn't a protein shake."
Shen chuckled, reaching over to steal a piece of pork from Liang’s plate. "Fair point."
After the food was cleared away, the movie night began. The dads insisted on a "classic"—a black-and-white thriller that the kids had absolutely no interest in.
"This is so slow," Min-ji complained after twenty minutes. "Why is he walking so slowly? Just shoot the guy!"
"It’s about suspense, Min-ji!" the Kang father argued, throwing a piece of popcorn at her. "It’s cinema!"
"It’s boredom," Min-ho retorted. "Shen, do something."
Shen, who was currently occupied with braiding a piece of Liang’s hair while Liang rested his head on his lap, looked up. "I agree with the others. This is terrible. How about we put on something that doesn't feel like it was filmed in the Stone Age?"
"Fine, fine," Wenlang groaned, yielding the remote. "You choose the movie. But if it’s another action movie where things explode every three seconds, I’m leaving."
They switched to a modern, chaotic sci-fi film, and the commentary track from the dads was better than the movie. Hua Yong spent the entire hour dissecting the plot holes with the cold logic of a seasoned CEO, while Shaoyou kept trying to guess which character would die first.
"That guy’s a redshirt," Shaoyou pointed at the screen. "He’s dead in ten."
"He’s the protagonist, Dad," Liang laughed, his eyes getting heavy as the exhaustion of the weekend finally caught up to him.
"Doesn't matter," Shaoyou insisted. "He’s too stupid to be the protagonist."
As the credits rolled, the living room was silent. Liang was almost asleep, his head heavy on Shen’s thigh. The Dads were sprawled out on the sofas, looking uncharacteristically tired and content.
"Monday morning," Min-ho murmured, staring at the ceiling. "University. It’s actually happening."
"Don't sound so depressed," Gao Tu chuckled. "You’re going to be legends there. Just... try not to buy the university, okay?"
"No promises," Min-ji muttered, leaning into her father.
Hua Yong stood up, walking over to the window to look out at the city lights. He turned back, his gaze landing on Liang and Shen. "You’ve done well, all of you. The merger, the rewrite, the bonds. You’re ready for whatever comes next."
Liang smiled, reaching up to squeeze Shen’s hand. He felt the obsidian ring on his finger, the mark of their bond, the proof of their survival.
"We’re ready," Liang agreed.
As the dads started to pack away the blankets and the snacks, the laughter and banter died down into a comfortable, warm hum of connection. It was the end of the summer, the end of the "CEOs in Training" era, and the start of something new. But for this one night, in this room, they were just a family.
And it was exactly enough.
Passage 30 of 30