Not catching the pervert was bad enough, but now he’d gone and exchanged contacts with Shen Zhixiao, getting tangled up with him.
Qiu Sui had been doing everything he could to avoid Shen Zhixiao. How did things end up like this? Is the main plot trajectory just unstoppable?
He felt utter despair. On the way back to the dorm, he hesitated multiple times before tapping open Shen Zhixiao’s WeChat profile.
He stared at the “Delete Friend” button, tempted beyond measure, but felt guilty because Shen Zhixiao had helped him out.
The guy had probably just thought it was a fated encounter and wanted to make a friend. That was reasonable enough. It was Qiu Sui who had a guilty conscience because of the plot—he was the one with the problem.
Qiu Sui let out a long sigh and finally chose the rational option: mutually block Moments.
Worst case, he’d just treat it like a dead contact in his friends list. They probably wouldn’t chat anyway. If they ever invited him out, he could just pretend to be busy and brush them off.
With that thought, he returned to the dorm and hurriedly set his hot-potato phone on the desk to charge.
The morning division drill had worn him out already, and dealing with both the pervert and Shen Zhixiao at lunch had left him mentally exhausted far beyond the usual.
He grabbed his sleepwear, washed up in the bathroom, and crashed onto the bed, falling asleep almost instantly. He even had a brief nightmare of being chased by two monsters.
Meanwhile, the two alphas in their double room were full of energy.
Wen Heng sat in his gaming chair, eyes gleaming as he analyzed the beta’s WeChat.
Qiu Sui’s signature was a string of abbreviations and numbers he couldn’t decipher, so he skipped it and checked the Moments background instead.
Just a plain landscape photo—nothing there. So he followed the usual steps and scrolled through the Moments content.
Qiu Sui’s Moments were set to “one month visible,” and Wen Heng could see nine posts total.
They were mostly everyday pics from unique angles: a disheveled West Highland Terrier he met on a walk, a goofy stray cat, a tree trunk lit with stark branching shadows, an ice pop half-eaten in hand at the basketball court… interspersed with a few late-night posts of cryptic exclamation points.
He seemed pretty popular, totally different from that timid, shrinking vibe in the elevator facing Shen Zhixiao.
Wen Heng kicked his chair around toward the alpha drying his hair on the balcony, waving his phone as he teased mercilessly: “I just checked out that beta’s Moments. Pretty lively stuff—nothing like how he acted around you in the elevator. Seems like he’s really scared of you, huh.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a damp white towel smacked Wen Heng right in the face.
Caught off guard, he yelped and jumped up clutching his own towel, just in time to see Shen Zhixiao impassively squeezing out hand soap and washing his hands. Amid the rush of running water, he corrected coldly: “He’s just more introverted.”
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have his WeChat. Repaying kindness with enmity—you really want that beta to see your true colors?” Wen Heng swung his towel menacingly in threat.
Shen Zhixiao didn’t argue. He picked up his phone with clean fingers, opened WeChat, pinned the fries-cat-profile account, then tapped into the profile to solemnly edit the note.
He typed and deleted three times, finally settling on a mashup of “dear wife,” “silly wife,” and “baby.”
Satisfied after admiring it, Shen Zhixiao backed out, gaze shifting down to tap into Qiu Sui’s Moments—only to find the whole section blank.
He frowned uncertainly, tapped in anyway, and amid the emptiness spotted a thin horizontal bar.
Wen Heng rinsed his towel, hung it back up, and took a swig of cola from the can on the desk.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Shen Zhixiao staring intently at his screen. He sneaked a peek at it, curious what they’d chatted about.
The sight of that long, sappy “Dear Silly Wife Baby” note nearly made him gag, but what really had Wen Heng choking and coughing was that Shen Zhixiao had been blocked from Moments.
Coughing through his laughter—cruel and direct—he said: “Introverted, huh? Looks more like he doesn’t just fear you—he hates you! Hahaha.”
As he spoke, Wen Heng pulled out his own phone, opened Qiu Sui’s Moments, and shoved it in Shen Zhixiao’s face. “See? I can still see his Moments… Huh?”
His voice cut off. The Moments he’d seen just ten-odd minutes ago had vanished, replaced by the same horizontal bar as Shen Zhixiao’s.
Wen Heng refreshed and retapped multiple times, nearly slapping the profile pic in frustration, before concluding the beta must’ve forgotten to block him earlier and just now fixed that oversight.
“…”
“Not close yet—totally normal. Getting his WeChat is a win already.” Wen Heng shut off his screen and patted his good bro’s shoulder consolingly.
Shen Zhixiao said nothing, just returned to his main WeChat page and smoothly switched accounts.
He tapped the same fries-cat profile. This time, Qiu Sui’s Moments loaded without issue. He’d already memorized every post, but right then—a new text-only one popped up.
Dear Silly Baby Wife: Slept ten minutes and a nightmare jolted me awake [resentful]
Shen Zhixiao pictured Qiu Sui griping in that tone, his brows lifting unconsciously. The annoyance of being blocked faded a bit as his thumb caressed the text tenderly.
What kinda dream pissed him off that much?
…
After venting in Moments, Qiu Sui lay in bed and soon drifted off again.
Maybe remembering to block Wen Heng too had eased his mind—he slept soundly now, no more dreams, straight through till the instructor’s whistle.
When he woke, he checked his messages. That pervert alpha hadn’t sent anything cryptic since noon—radio silence again.
Staying wary of a sudden ambush, Qiu Sui was extra vigilant during afternoon and evening training, never letting himself get isolated. Even dinner was pre-ordered campus takeout, eaten right in the dorm.
But you could dodge the first day, not the fifteenth. Qiu Sui knew full well that without catching the guy, the initiative was all on the pervert’s side. He couldn’t just sit there waiting.
Military training was already more than halfway done; each company’s events were mostly learned. So the school picked this time for a newbie-relaxation gala: the military training evening party, held at the Open-Air Sports Field.
Seven PM, the sky a deep blue, campus paths lit by streetlamps.
Nightfall brought lights, but outdoor visibility was still iffy. The vast Open-Air Sports Field blazed with floodlights. Companies filed in orderly under instructors, a seething black mass from afar.
The overhead lights glared if you looked up, but down at eye level, faces around Qiu Sui swam in dimness.
His company was mid-pack, far from the stage—performers blurry unless on the flanking big screens.
Qiao Keren was up front, watching eagerly, spamming Qiu Sui messages: wanna sneak over here and watch together?
Order on the field was loose; folks slipped around now and then, instructors turning blind eyes so long as everyone regrouped post-party.
Qiao Keren’s company was all omegas—Qiu Sui felt awkward crashing that. Besides, he had important business tonight.
Qiu Sui gripped his phone tight, steadying his jittery nerves. His eyes, bright under the cap brim, scanned sharply all around.
Where’s that pervert alpha lurking, waiting to strike?
To the right of the Open-Air Sports Field loomed three high-rises, dark save for first-floor corridors—meaning upper labs and gear unused for now.
Qiu Sui shifted gaze to the pitch-black Sports Center and Sports Hall behind the field.
Most headed to the public restrooms on the first floors of those right-side buildings; queues visible from afar in the lit corridors.
He hesitated, then stood slowly, opting for the farther beta restroom by the Sports Hall’s rear, near the Sports Center.
Fewer people there, but longer walk, dim stretches.
Qiu Sui’s heart hammered—he swore unseen eyes tracked his every move from the shadows. Each step dragged, braced for a rear attack. Yet he reached the beta restroom door unscathed.
Did the alpha sense my plan? Or is he still guarding the stump, waiting for a rabbit?
Qiu Sui washed at the sink; icy water sharpened his senses. He heard sporadic chatter outside, caught faint wafts of smoke.
The beta restroom dead silent—even the last drip from the faucet echoed when he shut it off. About to leave, Qiu Sui flinched, nerves raw, whipping back in panic.
The brightly lit space gaped empty. Nothing.
He chided himself for jumping at shadows, steeled up, and headed out—brain racing scenarios: head hooded and zip-tied the second he stepped out? Or that backward glance wasn’t paranoia—someone really lurking behind…
Nearing the door, his limbs went numb, breath held, fists clenched under camo jacket.
Next instant—a faint scuff from ahead. Eyes wide, he sprang back.
In walked a buzz-cut beta.
Seeing Qiu Sui coiled like a spring, the guy slowed awkwardly, slipping past with an embarrassed sidestep.
Qiu Sui’s heart nearly burst from his skinny chest, motor revving—bang-bang-bang.
Despair hit: the alpha hadn’t shown, and he’d nearly scared his own soul out.
It’s just one alpha—not a ghost. What’s to fear? If he shows, swing back hard.
Qiu Sui flailed a pathetic air-punch, exhaled long, and strode out firm-footed.
No hood-sack or ambush. Dim corridor outside held a few smokers scattered about.
Qiu Sui eyed them discreetly—none matched the alpha.
His taut body easing—just then, his pocket phone buzzed familiarly with message alerts.
