Aside from the conspicuous suppression patch on the back of his neck, there were no other visible marks.
While Chi Zhan changed clothes, the only sounds in the room were their breathing. At some point, the air between them shifted, thickened—becoming strangely charged.
Should he ask how Qi Song knew about the butterfly-code encryption? Had he secretly investigated him before? There were still so many mysteries wrapped around S, unanswered threads waiting to be unraveled. But asking that now felt too abrupt, too pointed… so Chi Zhan let it go.
When he turned around, sure enough, Qi Song had his head lowered, eyes respectfully averted.
Right, they were both Betas. There was nothing—
No. Not anymore. He wasn’t technically a standard Beta now, was he? That thought quickly soured his good mood.
Chi Zhan had booked a well-reviewed restaurant and asked, “Window seats okay?”
Based on what he knew of Qi Song, he probably wouldn’t care either way. The answer would likely be a casual “sure.”
But unexpectedly, Qi Song made a specific request.
“No. Private room.”
For some reason, that answer made Chi Zhan uneasy.
Qi Song, however, acted completely normal.
Perhaps it was the lingering effect of the marking, but Chi Zhan felt like he was floating as he walked, like his feet were sinking into clouds. He probably hadn’t walked this slowly since he was a baby. Qi Song showed no impatience at all, adjusting his pace to match Chi Zhan’s stride.
“Chi Zhan?” A voice called out.
Qi Hao had just stepped out of the training center and happened to see Chi Zhan walking beside someone. He looked the guy over—handsome. Immediately on guard, he still smiled and said, “I haven’t forgotten you owe me dinner. When are we doing that?”
Chi Zhan hadn’t expected to run into Qi Hao here. He responded politely, “When are you free?”
“Right now,” Qi Hao said cheerfully. “I haven’t eaten yet.”
Chi Zhan was about to turn him down. After all, this dinner was his invitation—adding someone else last-minute would be disrespectful to Qi Song.
But Qi Song spoke before he could.
“This is a private date. No extra guests.”
Qi Hao froze. Wait, did he just say… date? Did that mean Chi Zhan and this guy were…?
“You’re…” Qi Hao still couldn’t quite believe it. “Chi Zhan’s boyfriend?”
Great. Another misunderstanding.
Chi Zhan was already fed up with the whole fake-boyfriend situation. The last thing he wanted was for Qi Song to get dragged into it. But before he could say a word, Qi Song had already slid an arm around his waist, gave Qi Hao a curt nod, and steered Chi Zhan away.
Qi Hao could deal with Chu Xingxiao—he was the one who’d run around the dorm blabbing about Chi Zhan having dinner with someone. Trying to get a one-on-one dinner with Chi Zhan now wouldn’t be easy.
Qi Song’s gesture was so natural that Chi Zhan didn’t even resist. They’d walked several hundred meters, drawing the attention of passersby, before he realized how intimate the pose must’ve looked.
Before he could say anything, Qi Song had already let go and said flatly, “I don’t like eating with other people.”
That sentence had a strangely childish quality to it.
But there was another meaning behind it, too: You’re not ‘other people’ to me.
At the restaurant, in their private booth, Qi Song ordered the food. As they waited, Chi Zhan glanced at him, still mulling over what he’d said. Maybe it had just been a throwaway line with no deeper meaning. But Chi Zhan was so used to conversations filled with subtext that he automatically tried to interpret it—he could be wrong, of course.
The waiter brought out the pre-dinner drinks, along with orange juice, lemon slices, and a few cocktail ingredients. Smiling, he said, “We’re very busy tonight, so your meal may take up to thirty minutes. Thank you for your patience.”
Chi Zhan reached for the wine, but Qi Song pushed the orange juice toward him instead, silently indicating this was his drink.
Chi Zhan suddenly felt like he was being treated like a child. Was it because he got drunk at the bar last time? Did Qi Song think he couldn’t handle his liquor?
“I can drink,” Chi Zhan said, a little defensive.
“Not during a temporary marking period,” Qi Song replied coolly.
His words landed like a bomb.
Chi Zhan was silent for a full five seconds before he managed to speak. His voice came out dry: “How do you know?”
Qi Song met his gaze, a slow, unreadable smile curling at the corners of his lips.
“Because I’m also an Alpha.”
From the moment I saw you, your whole body reeked of someone else’s pheromones—how could I not know?
The venom of jealousy sank its fangs deep into his heart, twisting in a direct, agonizing pain that he’d now grown familiar with. Every time he saw Chi Zhan, his heartbeat surged past any normal threshold.
Every time. Without fail.
The Imperial Crown Prince’s predatory gaze. Cen Chi’s undisguised desire. Even his own younger brother’s determined pursuit. All of it had stretched Qi Song’s patience to its limit, like a glacial wall subjected to the scorching heat of open flame. That ancient, impenetrable shell had finally begun to crack.
And now, in this moment—it shattered completely.
“Did Cen Chi’s pheromones smell that good?” Qi Song asked, undoing the top button of his collar with practiced ease. His voice was calm, but the undertone was unmistakable. “I’m better. Want to test it for yourself?”
***
Chi Zhan almost thought he’d misheard.
What Qi Song had just revealed was already enough to leave him stunned.
“You’re… an Alpha?”
Qi Song tilted his head slightly, giving a soft nod. The mole at the corner of his eye shimmered faintly, like a silent, seductive wink.
He walked toward Chi Zhan, taking off his gloves and setting them on the table. He was always impeccably dressed, like a handful of untouched snow in the dead of winter—so cold, it seemed a single touch could freeze the blood in your veins.
But now, he moved with a quiet intensity, as if something long suppressed had finally broken free. One hand braced on the back of Chi Zhan’s chair, caging him in from above, shadows swallowing him whole.
It should have felt oppressive.
But instead, Chi Zhan found the gesture oddly familiar.
It reminded him of that night at the bar—when he’d tried to pull off S’s mask to uncover who he really was, only to be interrupted by the Crown Prince halfway through. He’d assumed S had been too drunk to remember.
But clearly, that wasn’t the case.
