It was clear that Shi Qi wasn’t in the mood for excuses. Shang Sui opened his mouth but ultimately remained silent.
After a moment, Shi Qi spoke first. “Go get the check-up done. We’ll talk afterward.”
“Okay.” Shang Sui hesitated, then asked, “Are you still willing to wait for me?”
“……”
When no response came for a long time, Shang Sui stared at him intently. His tone carried a hint of pleading. “Can you not leave?”
Shi Qi stood beneath a cascade of jacarandas. The cool-toned lamp filtered through the branches, casting fragmented shadows in his eyes.
His skin also reflected a cool-toned whiteness, paler than frost or snow, so strikingly beautiful it seemed almost inhuman.
In the end, Shi Qi replied flatly, “Depends on my mood.”
–
When Shen Qianyu saw Shang Sui return, he frowned slightly.
Normally, Shang Sui didn’t show much emotional fluctuation. Even when upset, he would maintain a smile. But now, his expression was blank, and it was clear his mood had hit a low point.
“I heard from Jiang Yan that you had a dispute with Shi Qi,” Shen Qianyu said. “Why didn’t you give a heads-up beforehand? Jiang Yan doesn’t know what should or shouldn’t be said.”
Just moments ago, Jiang Yan had sent a frantic stream of messages, practically screaming “Help me.”
Shen Qianyu added subtly, “He might run his mouth, but if you’d told him, he definitely wouldn’t have said anything.”
“I didn’t mean to hide it on purpose.”
Thinking of Shi Qi’s cold demeanor just now, Shang Sui said irritably, “He was bound to find out eventually. I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
Shen Qianyu sighed, understanding Shang Sui’s approach.
According to Jiang Yan’s account, the way they met was essentially a result of a misunderstanding.
If Jiang Yan had been informed and a matching employee file created, perhaps Shi Qi would never have discovered the truth. But that would’ve been intentional concealment.
Going along with a mistake wasn’t the same as deliberately keeping a secret.
Even in a bad mood, Shang Sui didn’t like taking it out on others.
He calmed down a little and said to Shen Qianyu, “Let’s go ahead with the evaluation.”
But Shen Qianyu countered, “Are you sure you can handle it right now?”
A trace of honey lingered in the air—its usual sweetness now inexplicably oppressive, like the weight of an approaching storm.
For Shang Sui, losing control of his pheromones was extremely rare.
Psychological evaluations during a special rut relied heavily on pheromone stability. In his current state, even a healthy person would be diagnosed as unwell.
“I can.”
If Shang Sui said he could, then he could. Though still doubtful inwardly, Shen Qianyu nodded. “Alright.”
The two entered a sealed compartment. Shang Sui skillfully took the prepared medication. With Shen Qianyu’s help, he stretched out his hand. A sensor patch was placed on his right forearm and glands, then connected one by one to the pheromone detection equipment.
After taking the medication, the subject’s pheromones would be drawn out to their fullest extent, and the equipment would monitor emotional fluctuations in real time. The effect was similar to a polygraph, but far more precise and complex.
One reason Shang Sui disliked psychological evaluations, aside from the obvious, was his strong aversion to losing control over his pheromones after taking the medication. It felt as if he had regressed into an instinct-driven animal.
Sensing his pheromones beginning to spiral out of control, Shang Sui spoke honestly. “No matter how many times I do this, it always feels awful.”
Even with a half-face isolation mask on, Shen Qianyu could faintly detect the restless scent in the air.
He exposed him mercilessly: “I think it’s something else that’s bothering you.”
Shang Sui neither confirmed nor denied it. Shen Qianyu checked in with him, “Shall we begin?”
“Since you now have a partner, the evaluation will be adjusted accordingly.”
Thinking of how Shang Sui had just argued with Shi Qi, Shen Qianyu couldn’t help but chuckle before quickly returning to a professional tone. “But since you two are still just getting to know each other, not full partners, this section won’t be too strict.”
“…” Of course he had to pick that, of all things.
Resigned, Shang Sui said, “Let’s start.”
Under normal circumstances, psychological evaluations were best conducted in a casual, conversational setting. Excessive tension could lead to pheromone overflow and distort the results. The subject needed to relax moderately and build a certain level of trust with the doctor.
From that perspective, since Alphas naturally repelled one another and Omegas were prone to being overwhelmed by pheromone pressure, most licensed doctors who conducted psychological evaluations during special ruts were Betas. That way, external variables wouldn’t interfere with the results.
Fortunately, Shen Qianyu was familiar with Shang Sui, and holding a relaxed conversation wasn’t difficult for them.
Shang Sui handled the standard questions with ease. The waveform on the monitor remained steady throughout—until they reached the final phase of the evaluation.
“Next are questions related to your partner.”
Even the slightly more troublesome ones were answered well by Shang Sui, and his pheromones stayed stable. Shen Qianyu wasn’t expecting any surprises from this newly added section.
“When facing your partner, do you experience uncontrollable urges during your rut?”
After asking, Shen Qianyu realized the oversight. “You’ve only been dating for a month and haven’t gone through a rut yet. You don’t need to answer this.”
He was about to skip the page when a voice suddenly spoke.
“Yes.”
Shen Qianyu paused in surprise. “To what extent?”
The options on the form all sounded unpleasant, so he chose the mildest one. “Something like complete possession? Maybe even imprisonment?”
Shang Sui said nothing, but the previously stable waveform on the monitor suddenly spiked.
Shen Qianyu clicked his tongue. “Are you serious?”
They knew each other’s personalities inside out. Shang Sui didn’t feel embarrassed and countered with a question, “You’ve never thought about it?”
“……”
Confirming that the readings were still within the normal range, Shen Qianyu withdrew his gaze and replied lightly, “Having thoughts like that during a rut is normal. Compared to regular Alphas, those experiencing a special rut show heightened aggression and possessiveness, which naturally intensifies their desires.”
“As long as you can maintain control in daily life, there’s no need to carry too much psychological burden.”
He moved on to the next question. “Would you hurt him?”
Shang Sui answered without hesitation, “No.”
Shen Qianyu tapped his fingers against the table, finding the contradiction between the two responses quite interesting.
Uncontrollable urges, but no intent to harm?
Yet according to the instrument’s readout, Shang Sui was telling the truth.
He turned the page. The final question made Shen Qianyu pause for a moment.
It wasn’t that he deliberately wanted to press Shang Sui’s sore spot, but the question was printed plainly in black and white at the end, and it just so happened to mirror the current situation with uncanny accuracy.
Somewhat driven by curiosity, a flicker of interest passed through his narrow eyes behind his lenses.
“If your partner chooses to leave, what would you do?”
Shang Sui had answered all the previous questions without pause, but now, the sealed room fell into an unusual silence.
The machine emitted a soft hum as it continued to operate. Perhaps from sitting too long, Shang Sui shifted his unmonitored left arm slightly, his long fingers curling into a fist, then relaxing again.
“If he doesn’t like me and doesn’t want to see me again, I won’t bother him.”
The waveform on the screen remained stable. The pheromone readings confirmed that he was emotionally steady and not lying.
“…That’s what I used to think for many years.”
“But now, I don’t think I can do that anymore.”
The words came slowly and clearly—an irrefutable declaration. And as soon as the sentence fell, the previously stable waveform spiked wildly.
The pheromone concentration in the room surged. Shen Qianyu instantly felt a bone-deep pressure, like being plunged into the freezing depths of the sea. The machine let out its first alarm, and one by one, the pheromone monitors on the walls lit up bright red.
Under the harsh lights, Shen Qianyu raised his voice. “Hey! You’d better calm down—!”
“Sure.”
As Shang Sui leaned back in his chair, the dangerously high readings dropped sharply within seconds.
The violently fluctuating waveform stabilized. One after another, the red warning lights blinked off. The invisible, suffocating pressure vanished as quickly as it had come. If not for the cold sweat still clinging to his temple, Shen Qianyu might’ve thought nothing had happened at all.
Snapping back to his senses, Shen Qianyu’s eyes flashed with unmistakable shock.
He knew that Shang Sui was different from ordinary people. Even among Alphas with special ruts, he was in a class of his own. But under the influence of the medication, Shen Qianyu had never seen anyone suppress nearly out-of-control pheromones in the blink of an eye.
If he could control it that well, then what was that outburst just now?
Did he finally lose control and need to let it out?
…
Shit. Was he insane?
It was just an argument. Was it really worth getting that worked up?
Alphas naturally repelled one another. Shen Qianyu still felt physically uncomfortable from Shang Sui’s outburst, while the latter asked as if nothing had happened, “Is the evaluation over?”
When Shen Qianyu nodded, Shang Sui began removing the sensors attached to his body, like a demon finally breaking free.
Seeing him stand up, Shen Qianyu almost messaged Shi Qi on the spot, telling him to run while he still could, or at least avoid bumping into Shang Sui today.
His fingers slipped into his coat pocket, but in the end, he didn’t reach for his phone.
In a way, Jiang Yan’s absurd guess had hit closer to the truth than expected.
Shang Sui had done him a favor in the past. Whatever he wanted to do now, Shen Qianyu would help him.
Suppressing his conscience, he braced himself and asked, “What are you going to do?”
“What else?”
Shang Sui tilted his head and impatiently tore off the final set of sensors from his glands.
He had thought the evaluation might help calm him down. Instead, he only felt more uncertain.
“Of course I’m going to apologize to my partner and properly coax him.”
–
Due to the effects of the medication, pheromones couldn’t stabilize immediately after the evaluation. To varying degrees, there would be residual overflow depending on the individual.
The hospital-issued blocker carried a chlorine-like scent of disinfectant. Shang Sui frowned slightly, clearly averse to the smell, but it managed to suppress the leaking pheromones.
Before leaving, he had told Shi Qi he would find him at the original spot. Shang Sui made his way down to the garden and walked toward the glass greenhouse at its center.
As he walked, he kept thinking about how to explain himself. The closer he got to the destination, the faster his heartbeat became.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this anxious. He worried that Shi Qi wouldn’t be willing to listen, or that even if he explained, it wouldn’t change anything. Most of all, he feared that Shi Qi had already left.
And as if fear itself could summon reality, there was no one in sight.
He stopped in his tracks, his expression gradually darkening.
“Who are you looking for?” a light voice suddenly asked from behind.
Shi Qi had been hiding in some corner of the greenhouse and now suddenly popped out, like a small animal secretly observing from the forest.
Seeing Shang Sui turn around instantly, Shi Qi wanted to ask how the evaluation had gone, but in the end, he only said, “Go ahead and explain.”
It was as if everything had been cast under an invisible spell—Shang Sui’s restless thoughts gradually soothed.
As Shi Qi slowly approached, he spoke in a slightly hoarse yet gentle voice.
“Sorry, Xiao Qi. I let you believe all this time that I was a waiter at Huaijian.”
“Ever since we met, you asked me several times about related things, and each time, I dodged the question one way or another.”
Recalling the things he’d said, Shang Sui fell briefly silent. Then he finally confessed the concern he’d carried all along, “Because we met under that identity, I was afraid that if I suddenly told you the truth, I’d come across as strange.”
Not that things are going any better now, he added silently to himself.
Shi Qi parted his lips as if to say something, a hint of surprise in his gaze.
“That first time we met at Huaijian, when you asked me to accompany you—I really wanted to. I didn’t want to miss the chance to be close to you, so I didn’t tell the truth.”
“But no matter the reason, I still lied. That was my mistake.”
When he finished speaking, he lowered his gaze slightly, quietly waiting for the other person’s response.
Shi Qi looked at him for a long moment, and a faint smile slowly formed in his eyes.
It was as if he’d discovered something interesting, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His usually icy expression softened, giving way to a rare look of curiosity.
“Why are you still throwing pheromones around?” Feeling a pressure on his shoulder, he said with mock displeasure, “They’re weighing me down.”
“Sorry.” Shang Sui immediately tried to rein it in. He knew how overwhelming his pheromones could be. “I took medication earlier, so I can’t completely control it.”
Shi Qi didn’t seem the least bit offended. On the contrary, he seemed amused by how flustered Shang Sui was, unable to fully control his pheromones.
“So this is what you’re like when you’re unsure of yourself. I always thought you could stay calm no matter what.”
Shang Sui stood frozen, not understanding what he meant.
Not bad. This dazed expression is a first.
After that, Shi Qi finally admitted the truth. “When I said I’d think about it depending on my mood, I wasn’t actually as angry as I seemed.”
At first, when he’d heard what Jiang Yan said, he had been genuinely confused.
But his temper had always come and gone quickly. The moment he saw Shang Sui, he immediately focused on the most important point: if Jiang Yan could speak so casually about it, that meant Shang Sui hadn’t meant to hide it.
Shang Sui had only met him twice as a chat companion. The first time was more or less a misunderstanding; the second had been because Shi Qi specifically requested him as compensation. It wouldn’t be fair to place all the blame on Shang Sui.
In fact, Shang Sui had never been a real companion to begin with, and yet he had still been willing to meet him. That alone showed he cared.
“Did I scare you?”
Thinking back to how flustered Shang Sui had looked earlier, Shi Qi figured he must’ve pulled off the act pretty well. “People always say I’m scary when I lose my temper.”
“…You were scary.”
“Don’t be fooled by how easygoing I seem now. When I first found out, I was really upset,” Shi Qi admitted honestly. “It felt like you were playing me for a fool.”
Shang Sui looked like he wanted to say something, but Shi Qi shook his head with a smile. “I know you didn’t mean it that way.”
Ever since they met, whether it was pretending to be a couple or the temporary mark… it had always been Shang Sui helping him, never asking for anything in return.
Even if there had been some concealment at the start, if that counted as deception, then all the swindlers in the world would be out of a job.
“But maybe… I’m just not generous enough to not care at all.”
Shi Qi didn’t like bottling things up, and he never tried to hide even his own shortcomings.
“I didn’t want to keep it all inside, so I thought, fine—then I’ll mess with you once too.”
“I pretended to be angry so you wouldn’t be able to guess what I was thinking. That way, we’d be even.”
From a distance, Shen Qianyu saw them standing together and paused outside the glass greenhouse.
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Shang Sui had been acting strangely before leaving. Worried something might go wrong if Shi Qi had really gotten mad, he’d quietly followed them over.
Shang Sui hadn’t quite kept up with the pace of the conversation and asked a beat too late, “Are you still angry?”
Shi Qi shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Was I being childish?” Seeing Shang Sui stay silent, Shi Qi looked a little embarrassed. “I’ll try to control myself better from now on.”
Shi An had always told him it was a bad habit—losing his temper and making a fuss like a kid who never grew up.
It was one thing to do it at home, but wasn’t it embarrassing to make a scene in public?
“No. It’s good that you speak your mind,” Shang Sui said. “Really.”
Actually, there are still things I haven’t told you, Shi Qi admitted silently to himself.
Even though Shang Sui got along well with everyone, sometimes he felt distant, as if he were carrying a lot of secrets.
Shi Qi knew everyone had their own privacy. He himself had never explained the real reason his family was pushing for marriage. Shang Sui still didn’t know about his glandular deterioration. But he couldn’t help being curious about everything related to Shang Sui.
He shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t stop himself from caring.
And it was because he cared so much that he’d ended up getting angry.
He had planned to keep the act going a little longer, but the moment Shang Sui said he’d wanted to stay by his side from the first time they met, Shi Qi couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed as soon as he heard it.
Shang Sui reached out his hand, palm open in front of him, waiting.
“Let’s make up?”
Shi Qi took his hand. “Of course.”
Shang Sui gave a slight pull and drew him into a hug.
Seeing the two of them embrace, Shen Qianyu finally relaxed. He turned around and quietly walked away.
Unlike Jiang Yan, who only understood the concept of special ruts in theory, Shen Qianyu had personally witnessed that painful past. He knew just how hard it was to overcome those psychological barriers. That was why he genuinely admired Shang Sui for finally making it through.
Whether out of gratitude or friendship, he hoped Shang Sui could live a happy life.
Preferably without breaking the law.
Judging by how Shang Sui had acted today, if the other person ever dumped him, there was no telling how far he’d spiral. Shen Qianyu might even have to bail him out of prison someday.
You two better stay together, Shen Qianyu thought sincerely.
He wasn’t ready to change careers just yet.
–
“I was so scared.” Shang Sui finally relaxed completely, melting into Shi Qi’s shoulder as he soaked in the familiar warmth and scent. “When you made me go to the evaluation alone, I really thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”
Shi Qi didn’t move, letting him lean as much as he wanted. “Aren’t we good friends?”
He had known he’d cool off once Shang Sui got back from the check-up, so he just needed a little space.
“I wouldn’t ignore you over something that small. And I wouldn’t stay mad for long, either.”
But deep down, a quiet voice said that just being friends wasn’t enough—not even very, very good friends.
After all, he’d never blushed or felt his heart race around Lin Yan.
Still, Shang Sui had said they were friends. And until they found a better label, they would stay good friends.
Hmm… The kind of close friends who might someday share everything?
“But you’re good at hiding things. We’ve known each other this long, and I never noticed anything off,” Shi Qi couldn’t help but complain. “If your family ever went bankrupt, you should just go be a chat companion.”
“You’d definitely beat Huijian’s current poster boy. People would be lining up to pop champagne for you every day.”
“No, thanks.” Shang Sui still hadn’t fully recovered from the emotional rollercoaster and muttered with lingering fear, “Once in a lifetime is enough.”
They exchanged a glance, and then both laughed, thinking back to their accidental meeting at Huijian.
“No one’s ever managed to fool me for so long.” Shi Qi jabbed him in the shoulder a few times. “You’re the first.”
For Shang Sui, that strength was nothing, like being pawed at by a cat.
His eyes curved into a smile obediently, expression softening. “Sor—”
Shi Qi quickly covered his mouth. “Didn’t I already say? We’re even. You don’t owe me an apology.”
“You’ve been really good to me. Don’t apologize.”
“Xiao Qi…”
Shang Sui looked at him with glistening eyes, and before he could stop himself, he buried his face in Shi Qi’s neck and gently nuzzled him.
As he rubbed against him, he kept repeating the nickname, his voice dripping with honey. “Xiao Qi, Xiao Qi—”
I really like you.
If fate truly existed, then meeting you again must have been the kind that came after stumbling through uncertainty, walking barefoot over broken glass, not knowing where the road would lead. But the moment I reached you, it was enough to call it destiny.
Shi Qi turned his head slightly, his face flushed from the way he was being called.
They had just finished arguing, so how did Shang Sui end up even more clingy than before?
Flustered, Shi Qi wrinkled his nose and quickly changed the subject. “I’ve been meaning to say, your scent is really weird. Why do your pheromones smell like disinfectant?”
He asked worriedly, “How did your test results turn out? Your pheromones didn’t mutate, did they?”
“…..”
Shang Sui went silent for a moment, unsure whether Shi Qi was more concerned about his pheromones or about him.
“The results were fine. The smell is from the blocker the hospital used.”
Shi Qi noticed a red mark on the back of Shang Sui’s neck, likely from contact with some medical equipment.
He instinctively wanted to reach out and touch it, but held back—it didn’t seem appropriate. What kind of test involved touching the glands? Wouldn’t it hurt, especially in such a sensitive area?
The sweetness of Shang Sui’s pheromones was now tinged with a lingering chlorine scent. Shi Qi wrinkled his nose again, instantly understanding why Shang Sui had been so averse to the wormwood perfume earlier.
Just like Shang Sui, he didn’t like the idea of him carrying someone else’s scent.
Taking advantage of Shang Sui’s unusually agreeable mood, Shi Qi pushed his luck.
“Could you maybe take a proper shower tonight? Then be my pillow and sleep with me?”
