Although the art academy and the medical university were both in University City, they were practically the farthest apart. Yin Tongguang felt it wasn’t ideal for a Beta like him to go, so he stayed at school and waited for the other three to return and give feedback.
The first meeting took everyone by surprise.
Xu Yishu had tidied up his art studio hastily, but there were still many paints and plaster figures left scattered about.
He was a shy and introverted boy—not very tall, with a bit of baby fat on his cheeks, but his eyes were especially bright.
When Xu Yishu made the call, he’d been nervous, but seeing the visitors in person stunned him. He had thought it would be some kind of formal organization, but they turned out to be students just like him.
Although… they certainly looked much more competent than he was.
That girl clearly stood out—she was probably an Alpha.
As for the other two…
He looked at Liang Yan curiously. “You’re the Omega who made that post?”
Didn’t look like it at all.
The tone in the post was completely different from the person standing in front of him now.
He saw the Omega glance at the person beside him, who immediately straightened up and raised his hand, saying, “It was me! I’m the one who posted it!”
Xu Yishu nodded, pulled out chairs for them to sit on, and handed them bottled water from his bag.
Lai Qiutong was straightforward and cut to the chase after a sip of water:
“We’re not part of any secret organization. It’s just that two of us have experienced similar symptoms. We’re trying to quietly find out if there are more students like us. If you don’t mind, would you tell us about your experience? Of course, if you’re uncomfortable talking to Alphas,”—she gestured to Liang Yan—“you can speak with him privately.”
Xu Yishu took a moment to digest that, nodded blankly, and then half a second later widened his eyes:
“Wait—you two are both Alphas? I thought…”
He thought they were two Omegas and one Alpha.
“Totally normal,” Lai Qiutong chuckled. “Just think of him as one of the girls.”
Xu Yishu replied with another confused “Oh…”
He didn’t seem very good at communicating, sometimes getting nervous or tripping over his words. But every time he spoke, he looked at people seriously, with a kind of cautious sincerity.
Since he wasn’t a medical student, his descriptions weren’t precise, but overall, his symptoms were quite similar to Liang Yan’s—just not as severe.
After noting the basic information, Liang Yan looked up and asked, “What brand of suppressant did you use?”
At that, Xu Yishu finally opened up:
“I tried several at first—Shengqi, Lins—none of them worked well. It only started working after I switched brands.”
“It usually takes two shots before it starts working, but after the initial heat period, I’d start having trouble breathing… Like…” Xu Yishu pursed his lips, trying to explain. His cheeks puffed out and his brows furrowed like a worried little bun.
“Like… I could still breathe, but exhaling felt really uncomfortable.”
“And I’d get chills… If it wasn’t too bad, it’d go away in an hour or two. If worse, maybe three hours or more.”
Looking at him, Liang Yan almost felt like he was conducting a medical consultation.
He paused a bit before asking, “So, the brand that finally worked for you—what was it?”
Xu Yishu tugged at the hem of his shirt unconsciously and answered, “…KB.”
They ended up talking with Xu Yishu for a long time.
He was an incredibly pure person. Once he decided he could trust you, he was willing to say anything.
Halfway through, Lai Qiutong even teased, “What if we were actually here to scam you?”
“Ah?” Xu Yishu blanked out for a moment, then replied honestly, “But I don’t think you would…”
He didn’t believe they were bad people.
Lai Qiutong smiled.
As night fell, none of them had expected to talk for so long. Xu Yishu seemed even more nervous than they were:
“Oh no, it’s gotten so late. I hope I didn’t keep you from anything important?”
Liang Yan even managed a small smile: “Not at all.”
Clearly, they were the ones asking for his time—yet Xu Yishu was the one worrying about bothering them.
“Then how about we eat first?” Ji Qiu placed a hand on Liang Yan’s shoulder. “I heard there are a lot of good places to eat behind the Art Academy?”
“Ah—yes.” Xu Yishu lowered his head. “But I only know a few places.”
Earlier in their conversation, he had mentioned that he lived alone near the school and didn’t interact much with others. Most of the time after class, he just stayed in the studio. Eating was something he didn’t pay much attention to.
Liang Yan had asked him then if he spent every heat period alone in his rented place, with no one around at all.
Xu Yishu nodded. “But it’s no big deal. My family actually didn’t like that I chose to study art, so we haven’t stayed in touch much since I started university. Later on, they had another kid—a little brother—so my parents got even busier. Even if I told them about this, I doubt it would mean much.”
Whenever he talked about himself, it was always in a few simple sentences, as if none of it really mattered.
When he mentioned enduring every heat period alone, Liang Yan could feel Ji Qiu casting a quiet glance in his direction.
For the first time, he panicked a little and quickly explained, “That thing with Zhou Jiapeng was really an accident. Usually, Yin Tongguang is around. Nothing happens.”
Ji Qiu didn’t respond—he just let out a quiet “hmm.”
In the end, they ordered takeout.
Xu Yishu seemed a little embarrassed, but the other three were casual about it.
Ji Qiu finally found an opportunity to play the attentive gentleman all day, sticking closely to Lai Qiutong, who was so grossed out she could barely eat.
Xu Yishu watched the two of them interacting so intimately, curious, finally getting a sense of… something.
Lai Qiutong packed up the meal containers and explained to him, “The neighbor’s kid isn’t too bright. He just found the Omega of his life and got a bit excited—bear with him.”
Xu Yishu, of course, didn’t object.
He had heard that Liang Yan had the same symptoms as him—maybe even worse. When he looked at him again, his eyes carried both relief and joy.
At least… someone didn’t have to suffer alone anymore.
After they finished eating, Lai Qiutong leaned against the wall and finally got to the real reason they came.
This boy was far too easy to read and had no defenses. Only now did they lower their guard and say to him, “Have you ever considered that maybe the problem lies with the suppressants themselves?”
“Really?” Xu Yishu asked. “I looked into each brand of suppressant I tried, and I didn’t find any specific contraindications…”
The room fell silent for a moment. Xu Yishu began to feel nervous. “What is it?”
Liang Yan picked up the conversation and explained the issue with KB’s 3.0 suppressant clinical trials. They heard Xu Yishu audibly gasp.
“The issue is,” Liang Yan continued, “we’ve found their product isn’t effective for all Omegas during heat. For people like us, with certain physical conditions, it could even be life-threatening. But KB seems to know this and still isn’t planning to do anything about this minority of Omegas—they just want to fast-track the product to market.”
Even Xu Yishu, slow as he was, now understood. “Then what do you plan to do?”
“Right now, only Yan Yan has this type of physical condition,” Ji Qiu said. “One person’s data can’t prove anything. KB would never throw out all their previous research over one case.”
“But the good thing is, I can get access to a number of pheromone samplers. If we can gather more samples and then act, things will go a lot better. So—would you be willing to… join us?”
Ji Qiu asked the final question very carefully.
If Xu Yishu said no, there was nothing they could do.
But some things just had to be done—
You couldn’t let most people saying “it’s fine” erase what something was truly meant to be.
“It—it’ll be dangerous, right?” Xu Yishu was clearly shocked by their proposal. “There’s just a few of us… and we…”
We’re just a bunch of students, after all.
Ji Qiu’s heart was still heavy. Hearing that, he sighed—rare for him.
Of course he understood that too.
After all the questioning, Liang Yan, who had stayed mostly silent, finally spoke:
“This really is something high-risk… and maybe even a little irrational.”
He said:
“Our strength is far too small. Like ants shaking a tree. Like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.”
He said, maybe with one careless step, he would be crushed to pieces, with no place to survive.
But when he recalled it, he realized that from the moment he learned about Ji Yang, he had never stopped having such thoughts.
“It’s meaningful.” Lai Qiutong had her back to them, her voice slightly trembling, but her tone sounded as if she were smiling.
“He was such a good person… He shouldn’t be remembered by just me alone.”
Lai Qiutong put away the women’s cigarette case she had been playing with for a while. Her fingertips still carried a faint and unique white peach scent.
A scent that once existed in her body.
—
The next day, Ji Qiu found time to deliver several samplers to the Academy of Fine Arts before rushing back to class.
He had waited a bit long for the bus, so by the time he arrived at the classroom, class had just started. The students of Class A were already used to him auditing their lessons, but the professor was quite delighted. After all, he had just seen Ji Qiu in last week’s class and didn’t expect to see him again in a different class—this student must really love his lectures!
So when Ji Qiu sat down, the professor smiled in satisfaction and kept glancing over at where he was sitting.
Yin Tongguang still saved seats for them recently, but he always left one spot between the two, as if to avoid sitting too close and ending up “fed” by their presence.
He had had enough.
Even though the two were always well-behaved in class.
But because of this gap that Yin Tongguang started leaving, the gossipers on the campus forum got excited again.
After a round of discussion, people mostly split into two camps: the Yan-Qiu shippers, who claimed love conquers all and gender doesn’t matter—mostly nosy Betas and a few Omegas; and the “Just Sisters” group, who insisted two Omegas couldn’t possibly be together. The subtext was: if they really were together, how were the rest of the Alphas supposed to survive? This group was mostly comprised of frustrated, unsuccessful Alphas.
[Anyone else feel like Qiuqiu and Liang Yan are getting closer…?]
[Yeah yeah yeah, even Liang Yan’s friends started sitting farther away.]
[It’s just one empty seat, what are you all overthinking for? Don’t you have experiments to run or credits to earn?]
[I think so too. Is S Class that free? Or maybe Qiuqiu is just so diligent he wants to audit his bestie’s classes?]
[S Class, free? Hell no. Their pressure’s worse than A Class. But maybe Qiuqiu’s just that good and feels anxious if he’s not learning?]
[…Maybe.]
[Also, hasn’t Jiang Xinglan disappeared lately? Gave up after not getting the guy?]
[Looks like it. The other two are still glued together anyway.]
[I don’t care, I officially declare OO romance is real!!]
[There it is again… Move along, people.]
At this moment, Yin Tongguang furiously opened his alt account named “YouAllKnowNothing” and angrily typed:
[YouAllKnowNothing: OO romance my ass!!!]
[↑ +1. They’re just good friends, must people say this every day?]
[Chill out, Justice Warrior. Can’t people even talk about it?]
[That’s not the point. The problem is you’re hyping up something baseless. No matter how often two Omegas hang out, they’re still both Omegas. What if they are together—how would they get through heat cycles? Wake up.]
[Hammer Bro seems like he knows something?]
Hammer Bro Yin Tongguang was at a loss for words, stewing in silent indignation.
Meanwhile, the two main subjects of the forum drama were quietly studying in the self-study room.
Liang Yan used to come to this study room with Yin Tongguang, but ever since getting together with Ji Qiu, Tongguang voluntarily gave up the study sessions, saying he didn’t deserve to be there.
“How do you use a pheromone sampler?” Liang Yan asked, setting aside his finished report, suddenly remembering Ji Qiu had just delivered some to Xu Yishu that morning.
“The best time is when the pheromone is at its strongest. There’s a blue threshold strip inside—like the ones in sterilization rooms. If it successfully collects pheromones, the strip changes color. Then you just close it,” Ji Qiu explained, showing Liang Yan the inside. “But actually, KB’s more interested in studying the body’s pheromone regulation after their inhibitor is injected—to prove their product is foolproof.”
Liang Yan nodded, seemingly uninterested.
“When I gave it to Xu Yishu today, I had to explain it for a long time. But…” Ji Qiu’s voice dropped, “he said his side effects aren’t as bad as yours. And since he doesn’t have his own Alpha, continuing to use the inhibitor seems like the only option.”
Liang Yan said nothing.
It was true—if not for Ji Qiu…
He probably would’ve endured another round of breath suppression and freezing limbs just to get through the side effects of the inhibitor.
Liang Yan felt conflicted.
He had already made up his mind, yet lately he kept thinking of so many “what ifs.”
He put away the sampler and nodded.
But Ji Qiu had pretended to be an O for so long—he had excellent instincts for reading people. And when it came to his own Omega, he was especially sharp.
Just from what he had said, he could already guess what Liang Yan was thinking.
Ji Qiu turned his head to look at him. Liang Yan, when his eyes lowered, always seemed distant—his dark irises half-covered by monolids, his nose delicately shaped, lips lightly pursed.
Ji Qiu’s heart stirred. He put his book down and stood up. After confirming the classroom doors were shut, he flipped off the overhead fluorescent lights.
The sky wasn’t fully dark yet, but the sudden disappearance of bright white light made Liang Yan seem as if he’d melted into the sunset. His cold outer shell was now covered in soft twilight. Even his sweater looked fluffy in the glow, wrapping around him gently.
So Ji Qiu stepped toward his sun, and under Liang Yan’s surprised gaze, took his hand.
“Yanyan,” he said softly.
This Alpha was still such a sucker for acting spoiled, Liang Yan thought casually.
“If I hadn’t met you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” Ji Qiu traced his palm as he spoke.
Liang Yan looked at him.
It felt like no matter what he was thinking, Ji Qiu could always see through it immediately.
“Of course, it’s not certain,” Ji Qiu added. “I didn’t hate medicine. If not for my brother, I might’ve gone traveling with Sister Tong and him, or chosen a major like architecture or engineering, like many other Alphas.”
Liang Yan imagined what Ji Qiu would look like if he’d chosen a different path.
He would definitely be quite different from the person he was now. Just thinking about it made Liang Yan want to laugh.
“Hmm?” he responded.
“But there are no what-ifs.” Ji Qiu, done playing with his hand, leaned in for a clingy hug.
“Because the moment I think about those ‘what ifs’ not having you at the end of them, it just feels unacceptable.”
There aren’t really that many “what ifs” in life.
The future may be ever-changing, but right now, you’re the only one.
You’re the person I still want to draw close to—completely and wholeheartedly—even after all the doubts and denial.
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