The Beloved Guide Was Forced in a Love-Rival Shura Field - Chapter 4

Xiao Lin’s fingertip slid lightly across the holoscreen. On it was the live feed from Ning Ning’s bedroom.

In the image, the boy sat alone, small and curled up by the window, a fragile silhouette bathed in moonlight, as if he could shatter at the slightest touch.

In the depths of Xiao Lin’s wolf-green eyes, madness churned restlessly, ready to burst its cage. His voice, low and rough like a beast patrolling its territory, carried a final ultimatum to his prey as he stared at the screen:

“Little rabbit, do you think hiding will keep me from finding you?”

The corner of his lips lifted in a dangerous arc.

“Tomorrow, I’ll catch you with my own hands.”

The Empire’s annual banquet was held aboard the orbital station Crown of Splendor, suspended over the capital star. The dome above simulated a boundless starry sky, sprinkled with the light of real, distant stars.

The air was thick with classical music, the rich aroma of premium champagne, and the low hum of laughter and conversation—an opulent net of sound.

And the moment Ning Ning appeared at the entrance, that net seemed to tear open. For a heartbeat, all noise stopped.

He was dressed in pure white formal attire, the fabric glowing with a pearly sheen under the lights. The cut emphasized his slender waist and straight, proud posture. His short silver hair was softly styled, adding to the unreal beauty of his face.

Then, he lifted his eyes.

They were pure violet—like amethysts immersed in water, glazed with a thin sheen of nervousness that made them glisten. Long, curled lashes trembled like the wings of a butterfly, each flutter stealing hearts.

That breathtaking beauty carried a fragility that made one’s chest tighten.

The banquet hall fell utterly silent.

“Holy—what is that? An angel?” A young officer dropped his wineglass with a sharp clang, but didn’t notice, staring at Ning Ning with his throat working furiously.

“That B-rank guide from the Ning family? You must be joking! With a face like that, I’d gladly die for him even if he were just an ordinary civilian!” A noblewoman known for her sharp tongue covered her mouth, eyes feverish with awe.

“Beautiful” was no longer enough to describe him.

This was a beauty that pierced the soul, transcending gender. He stood there like a sacred relic that had strayed into the mortal world—out of place, yet indisputably the center of all attention.

Ning Ning’s palms were clammy with sweat.

Those stares—dazzled, greedy, feverish—were like searing needles against his scalp.

This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted mockery, disdain—not this!

System, please be human for once!

【Ding! Detected sharp rise in collective favorability! Congratulations, Host. You’re now even further from becoming the “biggest laughingstock of the evening”!】 System 89 chimed cheerfully.

Thanks a lot! Ning Ning wailed inwardly. He forced a deep breath, moved stiff legs forward, and entered.

What he didn’t know was that the instant he stepped into the hall, a pair of wolf-green eyes in the shadows locked on him with predatory precision.

Xiao Lin gripped his wineglass so hard that his pale knuckles threatened to shatter the stem.

Clad in a flawless military uniform, he stood like an iceberg radiating lethal chill.

In his spiritual sea, the massive golden wolf paced restlessly, snarling low, eager to tear apart the gazes that dared covet its little rabbit. It wanted to cloak him with its body, to shield him from every intrusive eye.

Pain.

Jealousy.

And a madness of possession that strained against reason.

Xiao Lin’s gaze hungrily traced every detail—those soft silver locks, those lips that pressed tight when nervous, that fragile neck begging to be guarded. His mind screamed: Go. Take him. Hide him away.

Ning Ning finally reached the banquet table, eyes fixed on his target—the row of glasses filled with crimson wine. Step one of the mission was within reach.

But just as he reached out, a figure stepped in front of him.

“You must be the young master of the Ning family?” A blond youth smiled, eyes openly heated. “I’m Allen. I’ve long heard of you.”

Startled, Ning Ning shrank back half a step, lips parting without sound.

Allen mistook his panic for shyness and leaned closer, smiling deeper. But before he could continue—

“Allen, where are your manners?” Another man in white dress uniform smoothly inserted himself, blocking Allen with subtle force. “Don’t be frightened, Young Master Ning. I am—”

Ning Ning screamed internally: Don’t come near me! Damn Alphas! I’m here to self-destruct, not to host a mixer!

Flustered, he snatched up a glass of wine, hands trembling, turned sharply, and prepared to hurl it at the nearest target just to complete his task.

But he spun around straight into a solid chest.

“Ah!”

The glass slipped from his grip.

Scarlet liquid arced beautifully through the air—splattering across a pristine white uniform embroidered with the unmistakable insignia of royalty.

Time froze.

A collective hiss spread through the hall.

Ning Ning stiffly raised his gaze and met smiling peach-blossom eyes. They were warm on the surface, but fathomless beneath.

Handsome, refined, like a spring breeze—he was none other than the Empire’s Second Prince, Gu Qingfeng.

【Ding! Mission One: Spill wine, completed! Mission Three target has appeared! Please seize the moment and verbally offend the Second Prince to trigger conflict!】 System 89 trumpeted gleefully in his head.

Ning Ning’s mind went blank.

He stared at the red stain on the prince’s chest, then at that unreadable smile. His lips trembled, eyes burning with tears.

It’s over. I’m done for.

But the wrath he expected never came.

Instead, Gu Qingfeng looked down at his ruined attire and chuckled softly. He lifted his gaze, eyes intent on Ning Ning’s tearful face, his gentle voice threaded with subtle aggression:

“So eager to fall into my arms—are you hoping my scent will stain you?”

That line unsettled Ning Ning more than any scolding.

His face flamed hot with shame—and indignation.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but his peripheral vision caught a figure more terrifying than death.

Xiao Lin was striding out of the shadows.

The aura rolling off him made the guests instinctively part a path, silent in fear.

Between two evils, pick the lesser.

Better to offend a prince than be strangled by the Marshal on the spot!

Heart pounding, Ning Ning steeled himself, summoning every drop of courage. In the fiercest tone he could muster—soft, trembling, and utterly unconvincing—he snapped at Gu Qingfeng:

“Wh-who wants you to stain me! D-don’t flatter yourself!”

The words had barely left his lips when a gloved hand seized his wrist in an unyielding grip.

In one forceful pull, Ning Ning was dragged backward into a hard, scorching chest. The familiar, icy pinewood scent engulfed him like a cage.

Xiao Lin shielded him completely, his tall frame a wall that cut Gu Qingfeng from sight.

His wolf-green eyes locked on the prince, voice low and glacial, each word edged with lethal warning:

“Second Prince. Stay away from him.”

Gu Qingfeng’s smile didn’t fade, but the softness in his gaze vanished—replaced by the same predatory fixation.

“Marshal, that’s not quite fair,” he drawled, tapping the red stain on his chest with teasing ambiguity. “Your little treasure came running to me himself. Look—he even left a mark.”

Xiao Lin’s pupils shrank violently.

His grip on Ning Ning’s wrist tightened. He looked down at the trembling boy in his arms, fury rampaging in his chest.

How could his little one bear anyone else’s scent? How could he?

His gaze fell on Ning Ning’s pale face, the faint flush at his tear-brimmed eyes. Something clenched mercilessly around his heart.

And then, he did something that stunned everyone.

He bent close, lips brushing Ning Ning’s ear, voice a deep, obsessive command meant for him alone:

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Look at me, and tell me you don’t like him.”

“Say it—you want only me.”

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