It was three in the afternoon, and many freshmen were arriving at this peak time. The elevator stopped for minutes on nearly every floor.
Qiu Sui waited for the fastest descending one.
When it halted on the seventh floor, he inwardly prayed it wasn’t packed. The other elevators were still going up; switching would mean taking the stairs.
With enrollment at its height, Qiu Sui had already braced for climbing stairs later and didn’t want to waste energy going down first.
Fortunately, after a brief pause, it continued downward without flashing the full capacity warning.
In a way, this was the first smooth thing on Qiu Sui’s first day of school.
He kept his hat brim low over his forehead, his view half-obscured but just clear enough to spot the empty space when the doors opened.
Without thinking, Qiu Sui darted into the sole gap on the right, bracing his shoulder against the handrail as he steadied himself. From the corner of his eye, he sensed the person beside him subtly pulling away.
His first instinct was that he’d picked up some scent. Thinking of his two Alpha roommates, he figured they weren’t the type to restrain their Pheromones—he might have gotten some on him.
Just as he couldn’t detect the mingled Alpha Pheromones in the elevator, Qiu Sui couldn’t smell what had stuck to him either. But it didn’t stop the intense disgust churning inside. Silently, he added Pheromone Blocking Spray to his shopping list.
When the elevator reached the first floor, students and parents crowded the entrance, voices clamoring chaotically.
They’d finally gotten an elevator and stared intently at the space inside, unwilling to yield for anyone and miss their chance. No one budged, forcing those trapped inside to push their own way out.
Qiu Sui, near the doors, was among the first to bear the brunt.
He struggled to raise an arm begging for passage while inching forward. In the crush, he was hyper-aware of his back being lightly nudged by the person behind—like an intimate caress, the pressure light and teasing, sliding from his waist up his spine to his shoulder blades…
Qiu Sui was acutely sensitive to unfamiliar touches. The moment he registered it, his scalp prickled, a shiver running down his spine like needles.
This was peak elevator-waiting time, bodies squeezing through gaps. His progress was already laborious; he couldn’t turn to check, assuming it was just the press of the crowd.
But amid his growing irritation, a finger suddenly pressed hard against the nape of his slightly curved neck.
The alien sensation jolted him—a sharp tremor shot through him like an electric shock, fur standing on end, his stepping foot going momentarily weak.
He nearly stumbled, but a helpful hand steadied his shoulder just long enough to keep him upright.
The nape was sensitive for anyone. For Alphas and Omegas, their Pheromone-emitting Glands were there—a vulnerable spot that could be Marked.
Even for Betas, who couldn’t produce or sense Pheromones, a vestigial Gland lurked beneath the skin. Useless for anything but a patch of slightly fragile flesh, it remained one of the body’s most sensitive areas.
Anyone with basic manners wouldn’t touch it—unless deliberately.
A stinging itch pierced his heart, flooding Qiu Sui’s body with hot blood. His outstretched arm clenched involuntarily.
A suspicious thought flared in his mind, blood rushing in reverse, fingertips turning cold and trembling.
Heart pounding, Qiu Sui pushed through the crowd and whirled around the instant he stopped, glaring angrily at where the person behind him had stood.
But no one was there.
The elevator crowd had scattered toward the exit. Soon, new arrivals filled the spot.
Qiu Sui froze in place, that fragile skin at his nape still burning with residual heat—like ants gnawing relentlessly, leaving him deeply unsettled.
He clapped a hand over his neck, breaths ragged, then turned back. His gaze swept the line at the card reader gate, hunting the culprit—but a prominent back first snagged his attention.
The figure was towering, nearly half a head taller than the surrounding Alphas. And that build… Qiu Sui had seen it only once today.
His frayed nerves sharpened to caution. He shelved the pervert hunt, cat-like, lightening his steps and edging closer, shifting position to glimpse the profile.
Sure enough.
Recognizing the cold side of that face, Qiu Sui halted abruptly, retreating like he’d spotted a flood beast.
Shen Zhixiao lived in this dorm building too.
Stunned and wary, he fixed on the back, unsure if it’d been in the elevator.
Pervert then Shen Zhixiao—Qiu Sui hit crisis mode, instinctively hugging the wall, forehead sweat beading under the hat brim.
Only when Shen Zhixiao swiped his card and left did Qiu Sui’s tensed spine slowly uncoil.
By then, the gate line had thinned; he’d lost his shot at the culprit.
Lips pressed thin, he snatched his buzzing phone and opened the texts. Sure enough, new messages.
0: No getting other Alphas’ Pheromones on you, baby
0: This is punishment
0: Oh, and
0: Your waist is so soft~
For a split second, Qiu Sui wanted to curse back. But it’d only amuse them—previous attempts proved it.
Every finger gripping the phone tensed white-knuckled. He stood there, breathing steadily to deny them control.
He closed the texts, preserving the evidence.
One time meant more. Next catch, straight to the authorities.
That’s what I’ll do, Qiu Sui thought, dragging his unsteady steps to the gate.
The convenience store across from the dorms buzzed with business, a canopy outside hawking big-ticket freshman essentials.
Qiu Sui had a long list; one trip wouldn’t cover it. He bought urgent items like a mattress first, hauled them back, then returned for sundries.
The store teemed on his final run, but luck smiled—he snagged a small cart.
His scattered picks didn’t seem much at first, but soon filled it. At checkout, he didn’t forget two large bottles of Pheromone Blocking Spray.
By the time Qiu Sui sorted his dorm, it was past five. Qiu Shun, with Qiao Keren’s help, had finished half an hour earlier.
Heading down, he found them already at the east-side gazebo for a bit.
The three hit the nearest cafeteria for dinner, packed to the gills.
Qiao Keren pinched his nose, picking a marginally fresher spot, face twisted: “AC and purifiers can’t touch this mess of Pheromones. Alpha-heavy places always have crap air quality.”
Qiu Shun’s usual cool expression flickered; he hummed agreement.
Qiu Sui only caught a muggy dampness. He pulled a fresh Pheromone Blocking Spray from his bag and offered it: “Try spraying—might help?”
Qiao Keren took it, surprised: “Where’d you get Pheromone Blocking Spray?”
Qiu Sui thought of his Alpha roommates, lids drooping. Even veiled, his dislike shone through. “Don’t want Alpha Pheromones on me.”
Qiao Keren got it, scowling indignantly: “Most Alphas are rude jerks.”
“Can we switch?” Qiu Shun asked abruptly after spraying.
Qiu Sui shoveled noodles, mumbling: “Not yet. After training, and only if a spot opens.”
Such vague rules meant no swap unless forced—easy changes would cascade into chaos. Vacancies often hinged on someone’s word.
Qiao Keren fretted: “Better than mixing Betas and Omegas.”
Betas and Omegas couldn’t mix, of course. Tradition deemed Omegas fragile, needing protection—even the tough ones. Betas outmatched them physically, if weaker than Alphas.
An unscrupulous Beta could overpower an Omega defenselessly. Alpha-dominated society forbade it.
No quick fix. Qiu Shun watched his brother scarf noodles head-down, glancing up indifferently at Qiao Keren now and then. He pressed his lips, subdued.
Qiu Sui was starving.
The dream plot and elevator ordeal had drained him mentally; hauling supplies up and down had sapped his strength. The afternoon left him utterly spent.
He demolished a big bowl of wonton noodles in record time, chasing it with sugary soup. Beside his whirlwind pace, Qiu Shun ate slow and even, like food held little appeal.
One fast, one slow—the twins’ stark contrast. Qiao Keren was used to it.
He ate leisurely, animatedly sharing Campus Wall gossip and campus intel he’d scrolled.
Qiu Sui listened while checking class group notifications on his phone.
He replied to the roll call, then exiting, spotted the red dot on texts. Subconsciously, he rubbed his nape with his hand’s back.
He’d scrubbed it raw with body wash multiple times; the creepy press was gone, replaced by raw friction pain.
His expression wilted. Fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating—then he tapped in, wondering what fresh hell awaited.
