“Please try again later…”
Qi Song ended the call, his expression icy. Then he swiftly turned away from the terminal and flagged down a hover car.
Seated inside, he tilted his head back and took a deep breath. The fury in his chest still roared wildly, barreling through his system. Though less overwhelming than before, it remained palpable.
His emotions were out of control—even his ability to think clearly had been compromised. If he kept talking to Lin Ye in this state, he might not be able to rein himself in.
What the hell is Chu Xingxiao doing?
—In the dorm—
When Chi Zhan woke, the room was pitch-black, as if it were still the dead of night. His temperature had been fluctuating wildly earlier, and his undershirt was soaked through, clinging to his skin in a sticky, uncomfortable mess.
He still felt weak all over, but at least the worst had passed. What discomfort remained was minor—tolerable.
His mouth tasted bitter—probably from whatever meds he’d taken—and he was parched. Bracing himself, he sat up, only to hiss in pain a second later.
“Gege, you’re awake?”
A voice chimed happily. Before Chi Zhan could respond, a mop of messy silver hair popped up over the edge of the bed. Even in the darkness, it stood out like a beacon.
“…??” Chi Zhan blinked, bewildered. “What are you doing here?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Chu Xingxiao’s expression froze. He looked like a big dog who’d just found its owner, only to realize the owner didn’t recognize him—eyes shimmering with heartbreak.
“Gege… you don’t remember what happened earlier?”
Chi Zhan’s neck still throbbed. He reached up and felt something he hadn’t touched in a long time—a disinfectant patch.
His memory was a mess, scattered like an unorganized library full of unsorted books. Bits and pieces flashed by, jumbled with strange images he couldn’t place. He had no idea when or where they’d happened.
“Are you still feeling sick?” Chu Xingxiao leaned on the bedrail, eyes wide and concerned. “Can I come up?”
Why would you need to come up here? Chi Zhan blinked again, more confused than ever. “Hm?”
But Chu Xingxiao mistook the questioning tone for permission. The next second, he hoisted himself up onto the bed and edged carefully closer.
“Gege, are you still uncomfortable?”
“I feel much better,” Chi Zhan replied. “But you—”
Chu Xingxiao tilted his head and nuzzled against Chi Zhan’s neck. The bed was only a single, and with his long limbs, he easily enveloped Chi Zhan in a full embrace.
There was nowhere to hide. Chi Zhan found himself pressed against his chest, with his hair brushing against his skin—it tickled.
“…What is wrong with you?” he finished, deadpan.
Chu Xingxiao didn’t answer. He couldn’t smell Chi Zhan’s pheromones anymore. But worse than that—maybe it was just in his head—but it felt like his gege was now completely saturated with Cen Chi’s scent.
Fucking hell.
Fucking hell!
His hand clenched into a fist, veins bulging along the back. But one look at Chi Zhan’s pale, fragile face made all that rage collapse into anxiety and helplessness.
“Gege… does it hurt?” His fingers hovered at Chi Zhan’s neck, careful not to touch. “How long will it take to heal?”
His tone was mild, but Chi Zhan heard the hint of menace buried within—like a sudden chill that vanished before he could fully grasp it.
“Where’s Cen Chi?”
Chu Xingxiao’s arms tightened like he was afraid Chi Zhan might bolt. His voice sank into a low murmur.
“You just woke up, and you’re already asking for him?”
A temporary mark would fade in time, but during its duration, the Alpha’s and Omega’s pheromones would intertwine. If the match was low, the Omega might feel uncomfortable. But if the compatibility was abnormally high, it could trigger an intense dependence—so much that just being apart could cause anxiety. The Omega would cling to the Alpha until the mark dissolved.
And if that meant watching his gege stick to that scheming bastard like glue…
No way in hell.
Maybe he could find a reason to hack the school’s network and get Cen Chi reassigned to some godforsaken backwater planet—somewhere he’d never see his gege again for the rest of his life.
Chi Zhan had no clue what kind of twisted thoughts were churning in Chu Xingxiao’s head. He rubbed at his temples.
“Cen Chi gave me some medicine. I need to know what it was.”
Chu Xingxiao snapped out of it, thought for a moment, and answered, “Suppressant pills.”
“And this?” Chi Zhan pointed to the back of his neck.
“Suppressant patch. For calming and disinfecting… and hiding pheromones,” Chu Xingxiao said.
“What kind of effects does a temporary mark have on me?”
“Not much… It works like a suppressant,” Chu Xingxiao replied quickly. “Sometimes—only sometimes—it might make you feel like you like the Alpha’s pheromones. But that’s all fake! It’s just chemical influence!”
“Did you smell mine?” Chi Zhan asked suddenly.
Chu Xingxiao froze.
“Y-yeah… I did.”
“What did it smell like?”
“…Sweet, tangy oranges. Really fragrant,” he mumbled. “Oranges are my favorite.”
Chi Zhan’s brows lifted ever so slightly. He cast a glance at Chu Xingxiao.
That look nearly stopped Chu Xingxiao’s heart.
Chi Zhan asked, “And yours? What does your pheromone smell like?”
He was genuinely curious—he knew next to nothing about pheromones or Alpha-Omega biology. But it was precisely that complete ignorance that made him ask the kind of questions most Omegas would never dare voice.
Because a question like that—an Omega asking an Alpha what their pheromones smelled like—was practically a blatant come-on.
And vice versa.
But Chi Zhan had no clue about the implications. So he didn’t understand why Chu Xingxiao suddenly went completely silent.
“Hm?” Still waiting for an answer, Chi Zhan tilted his head in confusion. But all he felt was the mounting heat at his back. Chu Xingxiao’s body temperature was far too high—like a human furnace. It was making him uncomfortable.
He shifted slightly, then stopped. A strange look spread across his face.
