Fortunately, the identification badge was still in his pocket.
Chi Zhan let out a quiet breath of relief. Carefully pinching the edge, he began to ease it out. Just as he was fully focused, his shoulder suddenly sank under weight, and a wave of searing, heavy breaths washed steadily over the side of his neck.
Startled by the sudden change, Chi Zhan thought the Crown Prince had woken. But after a tense three-second silence with no cold reprimand in his ear, he cautiously turned his head—only to find His Highness’s eyes still shut, showing no sign of stirring.
He exhaled slowly. The metal tag, originally cold to the touch, had grown warm from being carried against the skin. Chi Zhan clasped it in his palm. Yet now he had an even trickier situation to deal with.
Perhaps due to discomfort from the earlier position, the Crown Prince had shifted slightly, his head now resting against the hollow of Chi Zhan’s neck. One arm had curled around Chi Zhan’s waist, practically cradling him in an embrace.
Chi Zhan’s entire body went rigid.
He had never been this physically close to anyone before.
Not even Tao Ran would sling an arm around his shoulders casually. Chi Zhan disliked physical contact—it always left him feeling uneasy.
And now, this was something else entirely.
They were far too close. The Crown Prince’s every breath seemed to stain his skin with heat. Even though Chi Zhan couldn’t detect pheromones, his body was still frozen in place.
After more than ten seconds, he carefully propped up the Crown Prince’s head, settling it against a nearby tree, then pried the man’s hand from his waist.
By the time he finished, Chi Zhan’s forehead was damp with sweat. A breeze passed through, sending a chill down his back.
But at least it was done.
He let out a long breath, cast one last glance at the still-slumbering Zhou Yanxing, and finally slipped away under the cover of night, leaving the small patch of warmth and firelight behind.
The moment Chi Zhan left, Zhou Yanxing opened his eyes. They were sharp and clear, not the least bit drowsy.
The sedatives prepared by the military academy were all minimal-dose, safe for the human body. But what Chi Zhan didn’t know was that putting an Alpha to sleep required twice the normal amount.
And Zhou Yanxing? He was far from your typical Alpha. He had undergone rigorous resistance training. That tiny amount of sedative was nothing more than a splash of water—completely ineffective.
In the past, the moment someone laid a hand on him, Zhou Yanxing would’ve already subdued them. He was always decisive, leaving no room for false hope.
But when Chi Zhan made his move, Zhou Yanxing wasn’t angry—in fact, he found it rather amusing. He was curious to see what the man intended to do.
He was always particularly tolerant when it came to Chi Zhan.
If it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have escaped the restraints. The military’s binding techniques were varied and complex. The Crown Prince had used one today that barely qualified as a casual pastime—it would still take effort to break out.
Zhou Yanxing had intentionally left an opening to allow Chi Zhan to escape. If the man failed, it would simply mean he wasn’t skilled enough. In that case, Zhou Yanxing would have to reconsider whether this person was truly fit to serve as a secretary.
But to his surprise, not only had Chi Zhan gotten free—he’d come prepared.
As Chi Zhan’s hands moved across his body—fingers brushing over his Adam’s apple, chest, and lower abdomen—Zhou Yanxing had to muster all his restraint to endure it.
No one had ever dared touch him like that before. If it were an Omega, it would be a blatant seduction.
Of course, people had tried. But those who attempted such things were invariably thrown out—by Zhou Yanxing himself or by the attending aides. Chi Zhan, however, had become the first to ever “pet the tiger’s backside” without realizing it.
That thought stirred something in Zhou Yanxing.
Earlier, when they were pressed close, Chi Zhan’s body carried a faint sweetness—like some juicy, just-ripening fruit, moist and fragrant.
It made his mouth water. He’d nearly sunk his teeth into that soft skin, restrained only by sheer willpower.
And yet, it puzzled him. Where had that scent come from? If Chi Zhan were an Omega, it would naturally be his pheromones. But Betas had so little pheromone that it was nearly undetectable—like scent diluted a hundredfold in water. Even the keenest nose would struggle to catch it.
Besides, just a few days ago, they’d been just as close outside the showers—and he was certain there’d been no such scent then.
Something flickered through Zhou Yanxing’s expression—confusion, followed by a furrowed brow. He seemed to be weighing something important.
After a moment, he tapped the communicator on his wrist and placed a call.
Though signal reception on this island was poor, that only applied to standard cadet communicators. The one on Zhou Yanxing’s wrist had been custom-engineered and was an entirely different class of equipment.
Once the call connected, he asked, “Do you still have the school’s pheromone sampling records?”
“Your Highness, it’s two in the morning,” the man on the other end groaned. “Unless it’s urgent, can’t this wait until morning?”
“It’s urgent.”
“If the sample was collected in the school infirmary, then yes, I have it.” The voice yawned mid-sentence. “Who are you looking for?”
“Chi Zhan, third-year in the Intelligence Division. He’s a Beta,” Zhou Yanxing said. “Someone will come to retrieve it tomorrow. Keep this confidential. If any information leaks, you won’t be able to bear the consequences.”
“You still don’t trust me? Let me check… Are you sure he got tested at the infirmary? I’m not seeing him in the system.” The rapid clacking of a keyboard echoed faintly. After a while, the voice said confidently, “No record.”
Zhou Yanxing paused. “Any other places he could’ve been sampled?”
“Well, the infirmary networks are all interconnected. I just checked the central system—nothing. Maybe he couldn’t get an appointment. There was a huge backlog of students trying to register, and yesterday the campus was on lockdown. No way anyone went off-campus. Plus, the third-years were all out on exercises today—no one came in.”
“Either he never did the sampling… or he asked a med student to do it for him. That’s pretty common too,” the voice added with another yawn. “But hey, I did find a record of him using a treatment pod.”
