“You need his pheromone sample? You can have him come in a couple of days. But by then, it’ll probably be too late to submit to the matching system.”
“No need.” Zhou Yanxing paused briefly before ending the call. A contemplative expression crept across his face.
Suddenly, a crucial detail surfaced in his mind.
That so-called “younger brother”—rumored to have been raised outside the palace, doing everything he could to rejoin the royal lineage—shared a dorm with Chi Zhan, and if memory served, was also a student in the Medical Division.
Chi Zhan would no doubt submit the matching form. But if he hadn’t gone to the infirmary, and the Central Matching System still required a pheromone sample to be eligible, and yesterday had been the last day for sampling…
That left only one option.
Even though Zhou Yanxing was fairly certain Chi Zhan couldn’t be an Omega, he never overlooked any clue—especially not when the secretary he had set his sights on had somehow ended up entangled with someone of unknown background and murky intentions.
Zhou Yanxing’s expression turned icy, inch by inch.
He would not allow someone like that to remain anywhere near Chi Zhan.
***
Chi Zhan didn’t stop running until he’d covered several kilometers. He had no idea where he’d ended up. When he caught sight of firelight ahead, he instinctively froze and peered into the distance.
Five or six students were sleeping around the campfire. Two were on night watch. The rustling wind in the forest muffled all other sounds, including his approach, and for now, no one had noticed him.
Chi Zhan kept his distance. He could take on one or two of them, maybe. But if he alerted the whole group, he’d be at a disadvantage in the dark. Best to play it safe.
He chose a large tree for cover and crouched to rest. His breathing was still ragged from the intense sprint. Reaching into his coat, he retrieved the badge he’d taken back and considered where to keep it.
Carrying it on him didn’t feel secure. If he got caught, it wouldn’t matter—but the points? He couldn’t afford to lose those.
He ran his fingers over the etched grooves on the badge and suddenly froze.
Something was wrong.
In the dim light, he could barely make out the character engraved on it: 周 (Zhou).
He didn’t even need to guess—this was the Crown Prince’s badge.
And possessing this badge… was an extraordinary honor.
Anyone else would be overjoyed—like stumbling on a blessing in disguise. Hand it over to the instructors, and they’d be immediately pulled from the survival exercise. No more camping out or starving in the cold. Total relief.
But Chi Zhan? That thought never even crossed his mind.
All he wanted was his own badge back. Getting this one had been a complete accident.
He couldn’t beat the Crown Prince. How could he just accept this tag in good conscience? Even if someone gave it to him, he’d still refuse.
But returning the badge… that was the hard part.
First, the sedative had worn off—there was no way he’d get another shot at knocking Zhou Yanxing out. And second—
Chi Zhan didn’t remember how to get back.
This forest was big enough to swallow thousands of students. It was vast and unmarked. Trees stretched endlessly in every direction. Even someone with a great sense of direction would get lost, and right now Chi Zhan was wandering blind. Retracing his steps was out of the question.
He sighed heavily.
What now? Once the Crown Prince woke up, he’d definitely assume Chi Zhan had resorted to underhanded tricks to steal victory. But how could he even begin to explain?
The icy badge in his hand now felt like a scorching hot potato. He couldn’t keep it, but he couldn’t get rid of it either.
Just then, Chi Zhan’s brow furrowed. He sensed a subtle disturbance in the air. The moment someone closed in from behind, he whipped his elbow backward—but the intruder was quicker, seizing his wrist and spinning him around. A firm hand pinned him against the tree as a low, teeth-gritting voice growled near his ear:
“—Don’t move. You want those people over there to notice us?”
***
The voice was deliberately hushed—barely audible.
But the fluid, practiced grip was all too familiar to Chi Zhan. He immediately recognized it and, startled, began, “Xiao—mmph!”
He only got one syllable out before a hand clamped over his mouth.
“Shhh—”
“Trying to get caught, gege?” Chu Xingxiao’s breath grazed his ear, voice a soft whisper laced with annoyance. “Sure, I could take them. But one of them has a tranquilizer dart. If I get hit with that, we’re screwed.”
Their bodies were pressed tightly together. Each breath made their chests rise and fall in sync. Though the night was freezing, Chu Xingxiao radiated heat—his warmth seeping into Chi Zhan’s nearly chilled-through body.
Even in his low voice, his irritation was obvious. He was still pissed that Chi Zhan had run off earlier.
Chi Zhan weighed his options: throw hands with this guy again or let things play out.
After a few seconds, he made his decision.
He slowly steadied his breath and stopped struggling, signaling with his eyes that he’d cooperate.
But even after Chi Zhan gave in, the man didn’t release him. Instead, he let out a derisive grunt and said, “No matter what trick you pull this time, I’m not falling for it again.”
His eyes gleamed faintly in the darkness, like a wolf stalking prey under moonlight. They locked onto Chi Zhan, unblinking.
Chi Zhan said nothing. His lashes quivered faintly, making him look uncharacteristically docile. But it was exactly that expression that had lowered Chu Xingxiao’s guard before—and allowed Chi Zhan to slip away right in front of him.
If it hadn’t been gege, he would’ve already strung him up for a beating.
Chi Zhan tilted his head slightly to speak, but in doing so, his lips brushed against Chu Xingxiao’s palm—just a feather-light touch, but it felt like a kiss.
Chi Zhan instantly froze in embarrassment. But to his surprise, Chu Xingxiao seemed… pleased.
He moved his hand away, adjusted his stance to shield Chi Zhan from the wind, lowered his head slightly, and said coldly, “What did you want to say?”
Though his tone stayed indifferent, his hand subtly curled inward, as if trying to preserve that fleeting warmth. Outwardly composed, inwardly—
He was screaming.
Gege just kissed him!
Those soft, damp lips had brushed his palm like a curious little fish. If only they’d touched his lips instead—what a dream that would be.
