Rain poured down, splattering against the ground with a steady patter, the chill in the air seeping into the skin.
Tan Jing held an umbrella in the curtain of rain, his dark eyes fixed steadily on the two figures facing each other in the distance.
He Siheng had been fidgety during the lecture and remained distracted after returning.
He hadn’t been gone long to the convenience store downstairs when Tan Jing grew uneasy and followed him down. As soon as he stepped out of the hotel entrance, he saw the scene.
He Siheng stood with his back to him, talking to a boy at the convenience store entrance.
Tan Jing recognized the boy.
Lu Xinshu, He Siheng’s best friend from middle school.
They had been so close that He Siheng often took him to Old Zhang’s Noodle Shop and even replaced the old photo on the wall with one of the two of them.
The rain was heavy, and Tan Jing couldn’t hear their conversation, but he clearly saw the near-maniacal joy on Lu Xinshu’s face.
So that’s what going downstairs to buy an umbrella was about—catching up with an old friend.
Tan Jing tugged at the corner of his mouth in self-mockery, his fingers silently tightening around the umbrella handle.
At the convenience store entrance, He Siheng eyed Lu Xinshu coldly, his arm muscles instinctively tensing in defense. “I remember telling you, stay away from me if you don’t want to die.”
Lu Xinshu ignored his disgust, his gloomy black eyes staring unblinkingly at him, as if trying to lock him firmly in his gaze.
“I saw you during the lecture. I didn’t expect you’d come to the competition too. Didn’t you always hate writing essays?”
Sure enough, it’s been so long since we last met. You’ve changed a lot—taller, paler, prettier.
“Have you… Differentiated yet?”
Excited, Lu Xinshu spoke quickly, his voice trembling slightly.
As he said this, he deliberately released his pheromones to probe.
A thick bloody scent spread through the damp air, like an airtight net sweeping toward He Siheng.
He Siheng clenched his fist in an instant, his gaze growing even colder. “Try disgusting me again?”
But Lu Xinshu only grew more excited. “Are you going to hit me again? How will you do it this time?”
He stepped closer, the pheromones in the air thickening to a clawing intensity, the inferior bloody smell nauseating.
Yet it was only nauseating.
He Siheng was surprised to find that this time, unlike before, the Alpha pheromones didn’t disrupt him or make him uncomfortable.
His peripheral vision caught the gray hoodie on his body, and he understood at once.
It was Tan Jing’s pheromones lingering on the hoodie that were taking effect.
He Siheng hooked the corner of his lips and suddenly chuckled. “Lu Xinshu, after all this time, you’re still just as pathetic.”
Lu Xinshu’s steps halted.
He Siheng clicked his tongue twice. “Isn’t your nose like a dog’s? How did you not smell the pheromones on me at all? Instead of worrying about whether I’ve Differentiated, you should worry about yourself. Your own pheromone scent is almost undetectable—your Gland has degenerated to this extent. You should go to the hospital before your family line dies out.”
Corresponding to the highest S-Rank was the lowest D-Rank. Not only were D-Rank Alphas’ pheromones weak in offensive power, but they were also the only group whose Glands degenerated with age. After Differentiation, a D-Rank Alpha’s Gland would weaken over time, leading to loss of marking ability—and consequently, loss of sexual function.
He Siheng’s insults always hit sore spots. Sure enough, anger surfaced on Lu Xinshu’s pale face.
But it quickly vanished.
Lu Xinshu plastered on a smile again, his tone soft and tender. “So Xiao Heng cares about me that much? You should know best how capable I am, right?”
He Siheng’s eyes sharpened, the air pressure around him dropping sharply.
He clenched his fist, about to step forward, when a familiar crisp scent suddenly surged from behind like a tidal wave.
The scent was familiar, yet somehow different from usual—perhaps due to the rain, the fresh grass-and-wood aroma carried a sharp chill.
He Siheng turned his head and, through the rain curtain, saw a familiar figure approaching under an umbrella. Beneath the black canopy, only the cold hard line of his jaw and tightly pressed thin lips were visible.
The umbrella-holding youth stopped a few steps away, tilting the umbrella brim up to reveal those pitch-black, deep eyes staring at them without warmth.
Recognizing it was Tan Jing, Lu Xinshu’s mouth twitched as if to speak, but the moment their gazes met, his released pheromones were forced back by another. An overwhelming pressure crashed down on him.
Lu Xinshu’s pupils shrank, as if his throat were gripped. He couldn’t even speak a full sentence, let alone breathe easily.
At the same time, He Siheng sensed the aggressiveness in these pheromones, but it didn’t last long—only a few seconds before it withdrew, so brief it felt like an illusion, with little effect on him.
But for Lu Xinshu, an Alpha, this was clearly a show of strength—a dangerous warning.
The gap in their ranks was too vast. Even for just a few seconds, it felt like a brutal suppression to him, pain invading his limbs.
Lu Xinshu’s waist bent sharply; he gripped the doorframe desperately to avoid kneeling on the ground.
He glared deathly at Tan Jing, eyes full of hatred, but the latter didn’t spare him a single glance.
Tan Jing looked at He Siheng, his face expressionless. “Done chatting?”
His voice was flat, no different from usual, but He Siheng inexplicably sensed an undercurrent of emotion in it.
They stared at each other for a moment before He Siheng looked away. Too lazy to hold an umbrella, he jogged a couple steps into the rain and slipped under Tan Jing’s.
“Let’s go,” He Siheng commanded righteously.
Tan Jing paused, warmth returning to his eyes. He lifted his umbrella arm slightly, making space on one side and tilting the canopy toward him.
Then He Siheng asked, “Why’d you come down?”
“What,” Tan Jing said with what sounded like a cold laugh, “did I interrupt you two catching up?”
