The pen tip paused heavily, a blot of black ink immediately spreading across the pristine exam paper, mirroring the darkness in Qin Han’s eyes at that moment.
“Why?” His eyelids drooped slightly as he masked his emotions.
Xie Ling concealed the unease in his heart and said arrogantly, “Nothing much. I just wanted to see how weak you are, so when we fight later, I can go easy on you with a few moves.”
The words were far from pleasant. Any other Alpha would have exploded in rage by now. But Qin Han didn’t. He leisurely capped his pen, then looked up at Xie Ling, his gaze already calm once more.
“No need.” Qin Han smiled. “I’m very strong.”
His tone was utterly serene, yet inexplicably convincing—even Xie Ling found himself momentarily swayed.
Good. Very arrogant. And very punchable.
Xie Ling interlaced his fingers, his knuckles cracking audibly. He lifted his chin toward Qin Han. “Then how about we compare right now?”
It wasn’t mindless provocation. He simply wanted to gauge just how much Qin Han’s pheromones would affect him.
Seeing no reaction from Qin Han, Xie Ling was about to press further when suddenly, a cool, lingering scent—like a summer sea breeze—wafted through the air.
It was Qin Han’s pheromones.
Xie Ling’s rear, which had just lifted a centimeter off the chair, dropped right back down. More precisely, it crashed back down.
It started with his legs, then his entire body went limp. Xie Ling had never experienced such a loss of control. Every cell in his body seemed induced by the scent emanating from Qin Han, screaming for more, demanding that he submit.
He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists instinctively and using the pain to jolt himself alert. The corners of his eyes twitched faintly from the strain.
Qin Han noticed. As a top-tier Alpha with some unique experiences, his pheromones were several times stronger than those of an ordinary elite Alpha.
Pheromones between Alphas repelled each other. When one overwhelmed the other, the weaker one suffered agony. He figured Xie Ling must be quite strong, but no matter how strong, he would still feel the pain against his own pheromones.
Qin Han hadn’t wanted to do this, but the guy in front of him was relentless. With no other choice, he released just fifty percent—entirely devoid of any aggressive edge.
Even at fifty percent, any other Alpha would have been on their knees. For Xie Ling to remain seated in his chair, albeit with a twitching expression, was already impressive.
The little guy really is something, Qin Han thought. But he had no desire to keep releasing.
Qin Han withdrew his pheromones and casually glanced at the sweat beading on Xie Ling’s forehead. “Is that enough?”
Any further, and it would only get worse.
What Qin Han didn’t know was that Xie Ling, whose true gender was Omega, wasn’t in pain at all. His suffering stemmed entirely from suppressing his desires—the instinct to draw closer, even to embrace Qin Han.
What the hell.
He hadn’t expected the guy’s influence to be this profound. And that was with the gender inducing agent from earlier still active.
The inducer for an Omega masquerading as an Alpha filtered out the oppressive pressure from Alpha pheromones. Xie Ling had once taken on five Alphas single-handedly thanks to it. Although the doctor’s medication had now neutralized much of the inducer’s effect, it shouldn’t have been completely useless. Yet even so, he’d nearly lost it…
If he relied on Qin Han’s pheromones—or worse, let him mark him—controlling himself afterward would be a piece of cake.
It was an irreversible fact of their physiological makeup. No matter how unwilling Xie Ling was to admit Qin Han’s superiority, he had to acknowledge this much.
No. Absolutely not. At least, not now.
The hand dangling by the chair trembled. He’d rather endure the side effects’ agony than seek help from Qin Han.
Xie Ling turned away.
Seeing this, Qin Han spoke up. “Won’t you let me get a whiff of yours?”
“Courtesy demands reciprocity. I want to taste your scent too.”
“…” Why did that sound so weird?
“Pass.” Xie Ling presented Qin Han with a cold shoulder. “I’m too strong. One whiff, and you’d probably drop to your knees.”
~~~
The third period that morning was Zheng Qianqian’s Chinese class. Xie Ling had no interest in doing practice problems or scrolling on his phone, so he grabbed a sheet of paper and started doodling.
As an old-school otaku, Xie Ling had real talent for sketching anime character designs. He was in the middle of drawing the mermaid line when the classroom suddenly fell silent.
Zheng Qianqian, who had been animatedly lecturing from the podium, stepped down.
Xie Ling hurriedly covered his drawing with his textbook.
His grades were good enough that most teachers turned a blind eye to classroom distractions. But Zheng Qianqian was different. She treated everyone equally in that regard.
She walked straight toward Xie Ling. Just as he thought his masterpiece was about to meet its doom, she passed him by and stopped at the desk behind his.
Hm? Had Qin Dog gotten caught slacking off in class?
Xie Ling turned with gleeful anticipation—only to find Qin Han hunched over, half-sprawled across his desk.
“What’s wrong? Not feeling well?” Zheng Qianqian asked.
Qin Han sat up, his face looking somewhat pale. “Maybe it’s because I skipped breakfast this morning. My stomach’s bothering me.”
“Why on earth would you skip breakfast? Are you okay? Ling Bro, take Qin God to the Medical Office.”
Zheng Qianqian had been teaching for years and had a habit of never using students’ proper names. She’d scoped out the class nicknames the day before in their new class, and now they rolled off her tongue effortlessly.
The entire class: “…”
Why did their Qianqian teacher always love dancing in minefields like that?
Xie Ling had only wanted to watch the drama unfold, but trouble had landed squarely on him. “Teacher, I need to study.”
“I saw your final grades from last semester. Chinese 142, right? Teacher hereby grants you special permission to skip studying for now.”
Xie Ling had never longed to study so badly in his life.
Zheng Qianqian could tell he was reluctant. She crossed her arms. “Didn’t you say during your back-to-school self-introduction that your biggest hobby is helping others? Here’s your chance to shine.”
He was happy to help others—just not this dog.
Xie Ling glanced at Zhang Chengrui, who was watching with rapt delight. “Teacher, classmate Zhang Chengrui said he’s always wanted to help his peers but never had the opportunity. I think this is his moment.”
Zhang Chengrui: “?”
Had he ever said that?
Then he caught Xie Ling’s pointed look.
Zhang Chengrui immediately piped up. “Teacher! Give me a chance to help out!”
“No can do. Your Chinese score last semester was barely a tenth of Ling Bro’s. This isn’t your moment for helping.”
Zhang Chengrui: “…” Ouch.
Xia Yu fidgeted eagerly. “Teacher, teacher, I can go with Qin Han!”
“Teacher, pick me! I got 137 in Chinese last semester!”
“Teacher, I’m the hygiene committee rep. Let me take Qin Han!”
“No need. Ling Bro it is. Go on.”
One minute later, Xie Ling and Qin Han were heading down the path to the Medical Office.
Xie Ling was thoroughly depressed—and a bit baffled.
Since when was Qin Han this delicate? Skipping one breakfast and getting a stomachache? He hadn’t been like that when releasing his pheromones that morning.
The Qin Family had servants galore. How could they let their third young master go hungry? Xie Ling remembered back in middle school how Qin Han’s lunches were prepared by the family and delivered by driver—fancier than a Michelin-starred restaurant.
“Won’t you support me a little?”
Xie Ling turned to see Qin Han trailing a meter behind, one hand braced against the wall, his face still pale.
Xie Ling snickered. “Why not just have me carry you there?”
“Can I?” Qin Han glanced around. “Sure, everyone’s in class now. No one will see.”
…Damn it. Call him fat, and he starts panting.
Xie Ling realized Qin Han had shifted from overt antagonism to this indirect, teasing route.
He needed to stay calm. No matter what, he couldn’t lose his temper and beat up a sick guy—or he’d end up in prison while still young.
Someone had clearly forgotten the taste of being overwhelmed by pheromones that morning. Xie Ling ignored him and kept walking.
Behind him, Qin Han abandoned his feeble, wall-clutching pose, straightened up, and followed.
A moment later, he said, “Can you take me to lunch from now on? I didn’t get to eat yesterday at noon.”
It was only the first week of school. To pass the higher-ups’ inspection on discipline, the school had banned takeout and midday off-campus leaves for now. With thousands of students, the cafeteria was the only option.
Even with staggered dining times, the prime seats were limited, and so were the good dishes. Arrive late, and you’d be stuck near the restrooms or trash bins, picking at scraps.
It came down to who could sprint fastest and farthest.
Xie Ling didn’t have to worry, though. His number-one fanboy, Zhang Chengrui—a sports kid and total glutton—would bulldoze anyone for food, dignity be damned. Xie Ling just had to rely on his lackey to win without lifting a finger.
Xie Ling remained unmoved by Qin Han’s request. “Did your family chef go out of business?”
“Something like that. They won’t be delivering meals anymore.” Qin Han figured this would make Xie Ling refuse, so he added, “How about for the sake of me taking you to the hospital that day?”
Xie Ling’s steps faltered. He hated owing people favors. He’d thanked him over WeChat afterward, but insincerely. If it had been anyone else, he’d have gone out of his way to express proper gratitude.
Xie Ling fell silent for a moment, his body shifting slightly. Qin Han noticed the sign that he was about to turn around and quickly steadied himself against the nearby wall.
“I could pull some strings to carry you for a bit, secure you a spot in the corner of the cafeteria,” Xie Ling offered as a concession.
“But I don’t want to eat with people I don’t know,” Qin Han said, leaning on the wall as he looked at Xie Ling. “You’re the only one I know.”
For some reason, in that instant, Xie Ling caught a hint of pitiful vulnerability in Qin Han’s aloof, flower-on-a-high-peak handsome face. Combined with his wall-leaning posture and slightly pale complexion, it stirred an undeniable pang of sympathy.
Xie Ling felt himself nearly succumbing to the charm for a split second. He seriously suspected that Qin Han had spent those three years in America honing some kind of seductive sorcery.
“Then starve,” Xie Ling said, averting his gaze and forcing a casual smile. “The line of people dying to eat with your Ling Bro stretches from the classroom to the school gate. You don’t qualify.”
~~~
At noon, Xie Ling and Xia Yu grabbed their meals and sat down at the spot they’d reserved early that morning.
Zhang Chengrui had been pulled into the office by Zheng Qianqian right before lunch to discuss his grades, so he’d asked a buddy from fourth-period PE to hold the seat for him.
After Xie Ling and Xia Yu had eaten a bit, Zhang Chengrui arrived, balancing two heaping trays of food. He glanced at the empty seat beside them and asked, “Where’s Xiao Ge?”
The four of them—him, Xie Ling, Xia Yu, and Xiao Yanfei—had all been in the same class during their first year of high school. After advancing to second year, Xiao Yanfei had been assigned to Class 2 as class monitor, but they’d agreed to keep eating lunch together as usual.
Xia Yu was meticulously picking the carrots out of his vegetables with his Relaxed Bear chopsticks. He replied, “A kid in his class had a sudden stomachache, no family around, so he’s accompanying their homeroom teacher to take the student to the hospital.”
“What a day for upset stomachs,” Zhang Chengrui said, forking a lion’s head meatball into his mouth. He mumbled around it, “On my way back from the office earlier, I swung by the classroom and saw my new desk mate, Qin God, still hunched over a test paper at his seat.”
Xie Ling’s chopsticks paused mid-reach for some food.
Xia Yu perked up at the mention of Qin Han. “What’s the deal? He’s skipping lunch too?”
“No clue. I wouldn’t dare ask, wouldn’t dare say a word,” Zhang Chengrui admitted, still instinctively awed by his new desk mate. “Probably too dignified to join the lunch scrum. With his stomach like that, will he be okay this afternoon…?”
Clack—
Xie Ling set down his chopsticks and stood, his long legs swinging over the bench one after the other.
Zhang Chengrui blinked. “Ling Bro, where are you going?”
Xie Ling waved him off. “Ate too much. Going for a walk to digest.”
Zhang Chengrui eyed Xie Ling’s nearly untouched tray.
He wracked his not-so-sharp wits and turned to Xia Yu with a pitiful look. “Did I screw up by mentioning my desk mate? What do I do? I think I’m about to lose Ling Bro’s favor.”
Xia Yu ignored him, too excited as he fired off a message in the group chat: Sisters!! Qin God skipped lunch!! Snack delivery squad, charge!! @everyone
As an Omega, Xia Yu was naturally in the Omega Group. Just last semester’s finals, leveraging his close friendship with Xie Ling, he’d successfully risen to admin status.
The group was mainly for little Omegas to dish about their private crushes and fangirl over hot guys. Xie Ling had been the prime target before, but in the last couple of days, Qin Han—with his otherworldly looks—had silently climbed to nearly rival him.
Xie Ling returned to the classroom carrying seafood congee he’d bought from the faculty dining hall. As he approached the back door, he heard a chorus of sweet voices from inside.
“Qin Han, I’ve got cotton candy—want some?”
“Here, these are the new cookies. Do you like sweet or savory?”
“I… I’ve got beef jerky and pork floss. Hope it suits your taste.”
“…” Xie Ling thought Qin Han, surrounded by that flock of Omegas, looked just like a debauched emperor encircled by his harem of songbirds and swallows.
Heh. Second day back, and already this popular. And here he’d thought to repay the favor.
Xie Ling turned to leave, congee in hand.
“Where are you going?” The “emperor” called out to him, emerging from the gaggle of admirers. He glanced at the item in Xie Ling’s hand and grinned brightly. “Did you get that for me?”
“It’s for me.”
Then why are you walking away? Qin Han swallowed the question on the tip of his tongue and said, “Can you share some? I’m starving.”
He leaned in close to Xie Ling, his voice low and soft, laced with a deliberate, languid temptation. “Please?”
