Around the basketball court, the Omegas who hadn’t had time to spray their barrier agents all felt their knees go weak.
Xia Yu grabbed a bottle of Fragrant Grandma Pheromone Blocker and spritzed it over his discomforted sisters.
He usually hung out with Xie Ling, Xiao Yanfei, and the others, so he was in the habit of topping up his barrier agent now and then. This time, he wasn’t affected at all.
“Yu Yu…” One of the sisters grabbed Xia Yu’s arm. “No more spraying.”
“How could I not? You’d be miserable.”
“To die beneath a peony is to be a romantic ghost even in death…” Her tone brimmed with excitement, her face set in a look of heroic sacrifice. “So dominant, so powerful. This feeling… I love it.”
Xia Yu: “…”
Such masochistically saucy talk was par for the course with his sisters.
Unlike the Alphas on the court, the Omegas—despite their bodies going limp, on the verge of losing all mobility—didn’t feel any heart-wrenching pain. They simply surrendered willingly to the hurricane stirred up by those waves of pheromones.
Xia Yu watched his sisters reveling in their pained bliss and felt a tiny pang of regret.
Whine! If only he hadn’t sprayed the barrier agent today! He fumed inwardly.
“But that’s weird. Why am I not feeling a thing?” an Alpha in the crowd wondered aloud.
Alphas naturally repelled one another, instinctively hostile to each other’s scents. Logically, Qin Han’s pheromones had washed over them too, so the reaction shouldn’t have been limited to Omegas.
“I’ve heard a legend that top-tier Alphas can wield their pheromones like weapons, targeting whoever they want. Could that Qin God be…”
“Holy shit, that’s badass! So we don’t feel it because he’s singling out Class 19. Look, Xiao Ge and the others are fine.”
On the court, Xiao Yanfei and his crew stared in bewilderment at the Class 19 students kneeling in obeisance toward Qin Han.
Qin Han kept up the pressure on them.
Zhou Haoxuan clutched a nearby tree, exerting every ounce of strength to avoid dropping to his knees. “You bastard… enough already?”
He glanced at Qin Han and saw those eyes still cold and chaotic. The pain on their bodies—especially in their limbs—grew sharper, as if their flesh was being torn apart.
He’d heard that rumor about top-tier Alphas too: they controlled their pheromones as effortlessly as breathing, even able to focus them with a mere thought wherever they pleased. But why was Qin Han zeroing in on their limbs?
In a flash, it hit him—the way they’d just been using their arms and legs to body-check Xie Ling on the court.
Just then, Xie Ling, who had been sitting quietly under the basketball hoop, let out a soft grunt.
A ripple finally stirred in Qin Han’s dark gaze.
He was sure he’d kept it under control; it shouldn’t have hurt Xie Ling. So, had his condition flared up again?
Qin Han’s reason snapped back. He immediately reined in his pheromones and headed toward Xie Ling.
With the roadblock dogs out of the way, he needed to get Xie Ling to the medical office fast.
Qin Han helped him up, but they’d barely taken a step when his body stiffened.
Had the guy next to him just… leaned into his arms on purpose?
Xie Ling’s condition hadn’t actually worsened. On the contrary, thanks to that flood of pheromones Qin Han had unleashed, his body felt much better.
What terrified other Alphas and utterly suppressed other Omegas slipped into Xie Ling’s body like a fresh, serene breeze off the summer sea—Summer Sea Breeze, to be precise—gently soothing away his weakness and pain.
A compatibility rating over 98% wasn’t just talk; this man’s pheromones were genuinely effective on him.
He couldn’t very well ask Qin Han for pheromones outright, but he couldn’t pass up a golden opportunity like this.
Pretending discomfort, Xie Ling leaned into Qin Han’s arms again.
A little rub. Another little rub.
Until he noticed Qin Han looking down—
Xie Ling suddenly started gasping raggedly, twisting his expression into something deliberately grotesque.
It really must have worsened, then. Made sense—why else would he lean into my arms like that?
Qin Han’s emotions churned wildly. Before his brain could catch up, his hand slid from Xie Ling’s shoulder to his waist.
Slim. Too slim for an Alpha. But the faint pheromones wafting from Xie Ling after all that exertion were unmistakably Alpha—some kind of floral scent.
Qin Han pondered this as he scooped Xie Ling up and headed for the medical office.
Behind them rose faint cries from Hedgehog Head, Fatty, and the others: “Hurry… get me some soothing agent!”
Xie Ling paid no mind to the hand on his waist, spending the whole walk subtly absorbing the lingering pheromones from Qin Han’s body amid the motion.
The guy’s control over his pheromones was impressive. Already, all that was left was the faintest trace. If Xie Ling weren’t Qin Han’s top-tier Omega match, hypersensitive to his scent, he’d probably detect nothing.
By the time they reached the medical office, Xie Ling was almost fully recovered.
To avoid tipping his hand, he feigned frailty, shakily kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed in the inner room. He sipped the brown sugar water the school doctor had prepared for him.
A few minutes later, Xie Ling sat up from the bed, his color much improved.
“You’re really okay?” On the way over, Qin Han had already planned to leave Xie Ling here to rest, then call his family’s driver to take him to the hospital. He hadn’t expected a cup of brown sugar water to bring him back from the brink like this. He worried Xie Ling was just pushing through.
Perhaps catching the hint of genuine concern in that tone, Xie Ling unusually held his tongue for once. He hooked the corner of his mouth lazily. “What could be wrong? Top-tier Alphas heal fast.”
The school doctor smiled. “Rest here a bit longer, then. I need to head to your homeroom teacher’s office anyway. I’ll get you excused.”
“Thanks, Teacher. You’re a beautiful, kind-hearted angel.”
He was handsome, and his words were sweet. The school doctor, a woman in her early thirties, beamed so wide she could barely close her mouth. Before leaving, she poured two cups of hot water and set them by Xie Ling.
Qin Han unconsciously licked his slightly dry lips. Now the room held only him and Xie Ling.
“Want some?” Qin Han pulled something from his pocket.
Xie Ling glanced over. Chocolate—the same brand as the one Qin Han had slipped into his pocket at the hospital last time.
This wrapper featured an adorable little rabbit instead.
Xie Ling stared down the paper-thin bunny for a moment before looking away. “I outgrew that kid stuff ages ago.”
Back in junior high, before I caught you, you’d said the exact same thing to the guy giving you chocolate.
“So you didn’t eat the one I gave you at the hospital?” Qin Han slipped the chocolate-bearing hand back into his pocket.
“Gave it to Xia Yu.”
Silence stretched after he spoke. Sensing something off, Xie Ling turned—
“…You trying to assassinate me?”
Qin Han, who should have been sitting in the chair by the bed, had sidled right up. Their noses were mere centimeters apart, his practically brushing Xie Ling’s ear.
Qin Han drew his hand from his pocket again—this time clutching a fistful of chocolate.
His long, pale fingers opened, and the gold-foil-wrapped chocolates tumbled onto the bedsheet beside Xie Ling. He stared, dumbfounded.
“Just you and me here. No one else will see.” He knew Xie Ling loved sweets, especially this brand—from back in junior high. And he was the only one who knew.
Qin Han’s voice was usually clear and crisp when he spoke, but now, murmuring by Xie Ling’s ear, it dropped low and husky. His warm breath ghosted over Xie Ling’s earlobe.
Xie Ling instinctively wanted to pull back but felt he had no reason to. He couldn’t let Qin Han think he was scared.
“Why do you carry so much of this stuff?” This chocolate had been popular ten years ago but was scarce now even in big supermarkets. You’d have to hit one of those nostalgic canteens selling it by the pound. Xie Ling hadn’t had any in ages.
And it wasn’t even premium. If Qin Han had pulled out some royal-favorite import, he’d buy it—fit his subtle show-off vibe perfectly.
Qin Han paused, then said, “Because of you.”
He spoke the three words slowly, deliberately.
Xie Ling blinked, stunned.
Qin Han veiled the shadow in his eyes and segued smoothly. “Back in junior high, I saw how much you liked it. Got curious, tried some, and thought it was great. Been carrying it ever since.”
So that’s the story. Xie Ling’s inner tail flicked with pride. “Good taste. Nothing I discover tastes bad.”
Qin Han chuckled. “So you still like it.”
Xie Ling: “…” He felt like he’d fallen into this schemer’s trap again.
Before he could snap, Qin Han added, “Go on, eat. Top up your sugar, or who’ll buy me lunch tomorrow?”
Down to brass tacks: buttering him up for a free meal.
Xie Ling eyed the animal-wrapped chocolates scattered on the bed. After a moment, he fished a crumpled red Grandpa Mao bill from his pants pocket.
“Cash on delivery.” He looked away as he said it.
Qin Han stared at the bill, reluctant to take it—without it, Xie Ling probably wouldn’t touch the chocolate.
After a thought, he pocketed it anyway.
Xie Ling hummed. “Head back to class.”
He’d pissed him off. Not even worth watching eat chocolate anymore.
But at least he’s eating it. Their relationship wasn’t irreparably wrecked yet.
After Qin Han stepped out, Xie Ling neatly arranged the chocolates scattered across the bed.
Little rabbits, little bears, little pigs, little cats…
“Which one of you should I eat first?” Xie Ling sat cross-legged, his elbows propped on his knees and his chin resting in his hands, as if he were contemplating a matter of national importance.
After a moment, he pointed a finger at the little pig’s nose and murmured softly, “Eenie, meenie, minie, moe…”
He giggled like a gleeful three-hundred-pound kid. If any of his classmates caught sight of their usually flamboyant, domineering campus heartthrob and school bully chanting eenie-meenie at a pile of chocolates, they’d probably be too shocked to get out of bed for three days straight.
In the end, Xie Ling’s finger landed on the little rabbit. He peeled away the golden foil wrapper to reveal the chocolate molded into the shape of the animal inside.
Xie Ling took a bite of the rabbit’s ear, and suddenly two gentle voices, laced with warm laughter, echoed in his mind—
“Little Ling, come here quick—Uncle bought your favorite chocolate.”
“How about from now on, every year Daddy and Uncle buy chocolate for Little Ling?”
A sudden rush of heat and moisture welled up in his eyes.
Xie Ling bit off one of the rabbit’s ears while covering his eyes with his palm.
The rich, velvety flavor of milk chocolate bloomed across his tongue.
So sweet. So delicious.
About ten minutes later, a knock came from outside. “Can I come in?” Qin Han called.
Xie Ling jumped in surprise. This guy hadn’t gone back to class?!
He hurriedly unfolded the piece of golden foil he’d twisted into a little frog and tossed it aside. Then he stretched out his long legs, leaned back against the headboard, and drawled in a cocky tone, “Come in.”
Qin Han walked in holding a paper cup, offering a smile as he explained, “The water dispenser out there’s run dry. Mind if I fill up?”
As he spoke, his gaze flicked to the corner of Xie Ling’s mouth. Qin Han tapped the same spot on his own face. “You’ve got some chocolate there.”
Worried Xie Ling might feel embarrassed, he started to avert his eyes and head for the water when Xie Ling made a gesture that stopped him dead in his tracks.
Xie Ling flicked out his tongue and casually licked away the smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. The tip of his pink tongue left a faint, glistening trail on his pale skin.
A deep crease instantly formed in the paper cup clutched in Qin Han’s hand.
Xie Ling caught his stare and arched one eyebrow. “What’re you looking at?”
“Nothing,” Qin Han replied, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “Your tongue just seems pretty flexible.”
