Obsessed with a High-Ranking Esper (BL)-Chapter 172: Jian Ci was his. His man

AN: Happy new years!! I wish you a great and prosperous 2026. I hope you achieve all your goals and accomplish great things. Happy reading! 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Jian Ci nearly dropped the glass vial in his hand when he finally noticed Yu Xi standing in the doorway.

"Shit," he swore, eyes wide. "How long have you been standing there?"

Yu Xi’s lips curled into a faint smile, arms folded as he leaned against the frame. "Long enough."

Jian Ci blinked, confused. He hadn’t felt a thing. There was no shift in the air, no flicker of his presence and not even a whisper of psychic pressure. It wasn’t like him to miss someone entering his space—especially not someone as psychically distinct as Yu Xi.

But then again... maybe he was just too distracted just now. Jian Ci shook the thought away and turned back to the counter. "I am making you some tea," he said, trying to sound casual. "It has a calming effect."

He glanced over his shoulder with a smile, but Yu Xi saw a flicker of something behind his eyes.

"I can’t wait to try it," Yu Xi said softly.

A few minutes later, they sat on the patio, the beautiful moon casting light across the stone tiles. Jian Ci set the tray down with care, then took the seat beside Yu Xi. He passed him a mug, their fingers brushing for the briefest second.

A jolt shot through Yu Xi’s body—sharp, electric, and intense sending shivers all over his body.

Jian Ci didn’t seem to notice. He picked up his own mug and stared into the steam. "I was worried about you."

Yu Xi looked down at his reflection in the tea, the surface trembling slightly with each breath. "I know," he said. "I overdid it during the exam and fell sick... I scared Xiaobao half to death."

Jian Ci’s brows drew together. "How hard did you push yourself to get sick? That’s not like you."

He turned his chair to face Yu Xi, setting his mug aside. "Where does it hurt?"

Before Yu Xi could stop him, Jian Ci reached out, his hands already moving to examine him. Yu Xi tensed. If Jian Ci saw the bruises...

He caught Jian Ci’s hands in his own, holding them gently. "I am really fine," he said quickly. "It was just mental exhaustion. That’s all."

Jian Ci stilled, his eyes searching Yu Xi’s face. "Why would you push yourself that far?" Yu Xi hesitated because it was a lie. He had no choice but to change the subject.

He looked away. "You and Alarna."

Jian Ci’s expression faltered. "Yeah."

Yu Xi took a sip of the tea, letting the steam rise between them, hiding the flicker of rage in his eyes. It was good—floral, earthy, with a strange clarity that settled in his chest.

Jian Ci stared into his own cup. "The last thing I remember that night was being in the cave. I was trying to inject the drug, but I know I failed. Next thing I know, I woke up and—ugh, fuck..."

Yu Xi’s fingers tightened around the mug. He remembered everything that happened in the cave. He remembered the way Jian Ci had pinned him down while thrusting long and hard. The way his voice groaned and moaned in pleasure. The moment their minds had collided and the imprint had taken hold. He remembered the heat of it, the fear, the surrender and the intense pleasure.

Jian Ci’s voice broke through his thoughts. "She was just... right there. Next to me. Her clothes were a mess. Her hair, bruises, everything. Little Xi, I was so scared. I have never hurt anyone before. Even in that state, Rui-ge always acted fast, always stopped me. But this time..."

He swallowed hard.

"There was blood. I really hurt her." His fingers tightened around the ceramic mug, his knuckles pale against the soft porcelain. The steam curled upward, but his eyes weren’t on the tea anymore. They were distant and haunted.

He was caught in the memory of that morning. The cave. The blood. The bruises. The way Alarna had looked at him—shaken, wide-eyed, her voice trembling as she whispered, "You imprinted on me."

The guilt tore through him again, sharp and merciless. His breath hitched.

Yu Xi felt it. Not just saw it. He felt it. The ache in Jian Ci’s chest, the self-loathing that coiled like smoke in his aura. The sadness that clung to him like a second skin.

"You didn’t hurt anyone intentionally," Yu Xi said softly, his voice a balm. "You weren’t in your right mind."

Jian Ci shook his head, jaw clenched. "Doesn’t matter. I still have to take responsibility."

Yu Xi’s hand curled into a fist on his lap. Take responsibility If Jian Ci owed anyone anything, it was him. It was him who had been there. Him who had taken the imprint. Him who had held him through the storm. Not Alarna.

Yu Xi’s blood simmered. He hated her—hated her with a quiet, seething intensity that made his vision blur. She had lied, manipulated and nserted herself into a moment that had never belonged to her. He wanted her gone. Erased from this world.

But he couldn’t do that at least not yet. He placed his mug down with care, the soft clink of ceramic on glass the only sound between them.

Then he reached out and pulled Jian Ci into a hug. Jian Ci stiffened at first, trembling from the emotional whiplash. But the moment Yu Xi’s arms wrapped around him, something inside him gave way. The tension in his shoulders melted. His breath hitched again, but this time, it wasn’t from pain. It was from relief and comfort.

He didn’t cry, but he came close. Instead, he buried his face in Yu Xi’s shoulder and held him tighter, as if anchoring himself to the only thing that made sense.

Yu Xi closed his eyes, feeling the way Jian Ci clung to him not out of obligation, not out of guilt, but out of something deeper.

And that was all the confirmation he needed. Let the world believe what it wanted. Let Alarna play her games.

The truth was that Jian Ci was his. His man. His alone.

Yu Xi’s arms tightened around him, and a glint flickered in his eyes—dark, possessive, unshakable.

This is my man, he thought, stroking Jian Ci’s hair with a tenderness that belied the storm in his chest. Mine alone.

And no one was going to take him away.

***

Seraphyne had been in rest mode for hours, her consciousness folded inward like a silk cocoon. Her psychic lattice, delicate and frayed from years of abuse, required periods of stillness to avoid collapse.

When Jian Rui told her the truth of what happened she was so angry. Alarna had lied. She had claimed he had imprinted on her and took advantage of her son’s vulnerability to lay claim on him.

Seraphyne’s fury was cold and sharp, like a blade drawn in silence. But when she found out who had truly been there in the cave, who had guided Jian Ci through the storm—her breath caught.