“My plan is to finish the sixty hours as soon as possible,” Yan Chengfeng said with a blank expression. “That way, we can both be free sooner. I’m sure you feel the same, right?”
Zhen Ning remained silent.
Just a dozen or so hours after mutually agreeing to “never interact again,” they were handed a mandatory requirement to duo queue for sixty hours within a month.
Sixty hours in thirty days sounded daunting at first, but for professional players, two hours of training per day was as routine as drinking water.
The problem was that, given Yan Chengfeng and Zhen Ning’s current relationship, even sixty seconds of peaceful interaction seemed like a tall order—let alone sixty hours.
Though they were extremely reluctant, they had no choice but to stand face-to-face in the corridor, their expressions unpleasant as they discussed countermeasures.
“Joe isn’t easy to fool. The training requirements he sets can’t be short by even a single minute, and he’ll conduct regular checks.”
Yan Chengfeng took a deep breath. “Training matches are usually at night… How about this? Starting tomorrow, you and I go for eight hours straight every day, from 10 AM to 6 PM. With this schedule, we can get most of the quota done within a week and make up the remaining hours whenever we have time. How about it?”
“No.”
Zhen Ning shook his head and replied, “Playing continuously for eight hours isn’t realistic. And as for the 10 AM to 6 PM time slot, I personally can’t manage that.”
Yan Chengfeng instinctively furrowed his brow.
“I didn’t say nonstop for eight hours,” he said. “I’ll leave you a half-hour lunch break, then—”
Zhen Ning interrupted him calmly, “I can’t do it.”
Yan Chengfeng’s face darkened.
In truth, back during their youth training days, Zhen Ning had a higher endurance than Yan Chengfeng. The training intensity back then was extreme, with a required number of ranked play hours to be completed each week.
At that time, when they duo queued, they typically played for a minimum of 10 hours at a stretch. Yan Chengfeng was the type who, after repeated losses, would become so frustrated that he refused to keep queuing, whereas Zhen Ning had a much calmer and steadier temperament.
Whenever Yan Chengfeng’s mentality was on the verge of collapse, Zhen Ning would come up with creative solutions—such as switching roles in their games, letting Yan Chengfeng play AD while he took on the support role. This helped Yan Chengfeng reset his mood and endure the grueling training hours bit by bit.
Zhen Ning had accompanied Yan Chengfeng through a long and arduous youth training period. His playstyle and mentality had significantly influenced the initially volatile and impatient Yan Chengfeng.
This was why, despite Yan Chengfeng’s infamous temper and sharp tongue, his composure and steadiness in match command and gameplay over the past few years had been remarkable. Of course, he would never admit that this was due to Zhen Ning’s influence.
But now, Zhen Ning was saying to Yan Chengfeng, “I can’t do it.”
Yan Chengfeng responded impatiently, “So what do you want to do?”
“Four hours at most,” Zhen Ning replied.
Yan Chengfeng sneered. “Four hours?”
“Since you’ve returned to KYM, you should know this is no place for idlers,” he said sarcastically. “If you have an issue with me, feel free to say it directly, but training is always the top priority. Because of you, I can’t possibly—”
“I need to take suppressants,” Zhen Ning interrupted.
Yan Chengfeng’s words abruptly stopped.
Zhen Ning met his gaze briefly before looking away.
“I’m currently using single-dose daily suppressants for short-term effect,” he explained evenly. “The monthly suppressants on the market sell better because they provide stronger and longer-lasting effects, but they also come with noticeable side effects—hand tremors, muscle weakness, and low-grade fever. That’s why I usually stick with the daily type.”
“Of course, daily suppressants have side effects as well. About an hour after the injection, I can’t maintain a high level of focus. But compared to the side effects of monthly suppressants, this has much less impact on training.”
Zhen Ning continued, “I choose to inject once every day at noon because most training sessions are concentrated in the evening. This way, the suppressant’s effective coverage is maximized.”
Pausing briefly, his expression remained composed as he added, “So, I really can’t play ranked matches continuously for eight hours. I need at least two hours at noon for the injection and to wait for the side effects to wear off.”
He seemed completely unaware that he was discussing one of the most private topics for an omega with an alpha. When talking about suppressants, Zhen Ning’s demeanor was calm, and his explanation was detailed and precise.
It was clear he simply wanted Yan Chengfeng to understand that he wasn’t trying to slack off—he truly had no choice.
Yan Chengfeng’s breathing grew heavier.
“Since training matches are usually scheduled after 8 PM, the most I can manage is four hours of one-on-one practice with you each day,” Zhen Ning said. “I know you want to finish these sixty hours as quickly as possible, but as you can see… I can’t handle eight consecutive hours in my current state.”
He specifically said, “in my current state.”
Yan Chengfeng stared at Zhen Ning’s face, his lips slightly parted. “You—”
Seeing his complicated expression, Zhen Ning assumed he was still dissatisfied.
He frowned and, after a moment, said, “If you’re still unwilling, I can completely hand over control of these four hours to you.”
“You can decide when we play during these four hours,” Zhen Ning continued. “Whether it’s morning, night, or even in the middle of the night, I’ll be there whenever you’re ready to play.”
For a long time, Yan Chengfeng couldn’t form a coherent response.
He had always known that omegas required suppressants to block their reaction to external pheromones and delay their heat. But until now, he had no idea suppressants had so many side effects. He’d thought taking one was as simple as drinking water when thirsty. He had never imagined that such a small vial could significantly impact an omega’s daily life.
And yet, from the way Zhen Ning described it, he seemed completely accustomed to it.
“…Fine.” After a long pause, Yan Chengfeng turned his face away and said dryly, “Four hours, then. Whatever.”
Zhen Ning nodded.
The air grew quiet for a moment before he broke the silence again. “Oh, there’s one more thing I’d like to discuss with you in advance.”
He continued, “Since we’re going to play ranked together, I hope that, at the very least, when we’re in-game, we don’t bring any other emotions into it and focus on playing each match seriously.”
Yan Chengfeng was taken aback, then said with some displeasure, “Of course.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked into Zhen Ning’s eyes and added stubbornly, “I have a condition too.”
Zhen Ning: “Go ahead.”
Yan Chengfeng paused briefly.
“Sit wherever you like and with whoever you want; I don’t care and won’t bother to care. But when you’re queuing with me, you’d better sit next to me.”
He spoke nonchalantly. “I don’t want to keep losing rank just because we don’t communicate enough as teammates. Once the game’s over, you can go wherever you want. I won’t interfere.”
Zhen Ning froze for a moment. “Alright.”
Yan Chengfeng let out a vague hum.
Outwardly, he appeared calm, but as he glanced at Zhen Ning’s slender profile, a subtle sense of discomfort stirred within him.
Especially when he recalled the day he had accidentally walked in on Zhen Ning injecting a suppressant into the back of his neck. The memory left Yan Chengfeng with an unexplainable sense of irritability.
“Li Feng should’ve told you that there are doctors at the base, right? Both general physicians and psychologists.”
Yan Chengfeng frowned as the words left his mouth almost instinctively. “Their salaries aren’t low, so if you’ve got an issue, you should consult them directly. They’re not just there for show.”
Zhen Ning paused.
Realizing what he had just said, Yan Chengfeng cursed inwardly at himself.
“What I mean is,” he hurriedly added in a somewhat flustered tone, “there aren’t that many people on the team. If something happens to you, it’ll ultimately affect everyone’s training schedule. So if there’s any issue with your body, get it checked out immediately… Don’t keep putting things off.”
Zhen Ning didn’t respond.
As if trying to cover it up, Yan Chengfeng abruptly added, “Esports only values skill—nothing else. Omegas shouldn’t expect anyone to go easy on them during a match, got it?”
Zhen Ning quietly looked at the side of Yan Chengfeng’s face.
After a brief pause, he said, “You’re right.”
Tao Luo came out of the kitchen, humming a tune with an apple in her mouth as she bounced toward the training room.
After taking a couple of steps, she spotted Yan Chengfeng standing alone in the corridor, staring at the team’s poster on the wall, his expression unreadable.
She continued crunching on her apple, planning to ignore him and head straight to the training room. But just as she was about to pass him, she suddenly heard him call her name.
She turned her head and let out a puzzled, “Huh?”
“Let me ask you something,” Yan Chengfeng said. “Your nose is pretty sharp, isn’t it?”
Tao Luo gave an “Mm-hmm,” swallowing a bite of apple as she replied proudly, “Of course! When Auntie finishes cooking, I can smell it all the way from the training room, and—”
“Not about food,” Yan Chengfeng interrupted. “It’s… about pheromones.”
Tao Luo: “Huh?”
The pheromones of alphas and omegas were naturally designed to attract each other. However, in everyday life, alphas could also detect the pheromones of other alphas.
In cliché TV dramas, when two alphas competed for an omega, there would often be over-the-top scenes where they compared whose pheromone concentration was stronger. Of course, society was much more civilized, so such melodramatic scenarios rarely occurred.
The concentration of an alpha’s pheromones could fluctuate with their emotions. During intense moments in matches, Yan Chengfeng would sometimes faintly sense other players’ pheromones. However, it didn’t affect him much since there was no attraction between alpha pheromones.
Yan Chengfeng cleared his throat. “You know how sometimes I… lose control of my temper and occasionally get angry or something.”
“Ah? Is it really ‘sometimes’?” Tao Luo retorted without hesitation. “Aren’t you angry pretty much every day?”
Yan Chengfeng’s expression darkened.
Noticing his mood seemed worse than usual, Tao Luo felt a bit guilty. She sniffed and said in a small voice, “Uh… um, go on.”
Yan Chengfeng fell silent for a moment.
“When I’m angry…”
He sounded casual, but there was a hint of hesitation in his expression as he asked, “Does my pheromone scent… get a bit strong?”
Author’s note:
Straight Alpha Kitchen’s Awakening
