Upon hearing his response, a dazed look appeared in Shang Sui’s eyes.
His expression could only be described as bewildered, as if he had never considered such a possibility.
Shi Qi took one last glance at the blooming lily of the valley on his wrist. Though reluctant, he still reached out, ready to remove the bracelet he had just put on.
“—Hey hey, just hear me out for a second.” Qin Shuhe suddenly popped up.
“Ge, you take Shi Qi’s.” As he spoke, he placed Shi Qi’s hand, still holding the bracelet, into Shang Sui’s hand, while also stopping Shi Qi from removing the other one. “As for yours, Shi Qi, you keep it. Once a gift is given, there’s no taking it back, right?”
Instinctively, Shi Qi looked toward Shang Sui. The latter didn’t seem to have processed it yet either, but ended up accepting the bracelet just as Qin Shuhe directed.
“Okay, now the exchange is complete, and the number remains the same,” Qin Shuhe announced like a wedding host. “That wraps up our little ring-exchange ceremony. Time to get on stage!”
Several staff members were amused and began clapping.
Lin Yan gave him a thumbs-up, then turned back and said offhandedly to Yu Zhiling beside him, “Qin Shuhe’s being so dramatic—feels like they’re getting married.”
Yu Zhiling had been stewing in frustration the whole time, and seeing Shi Qi give the bracelet he’d longed for to Shang Sui only made it worse.
But with Lin Yan watching him, he had to force a couple of laughs. “Mm… your friend sure is something.”
“So, what are you guys planning to perform?” the girl asked excitedly. “Dancing?”
Inspired by Qin Shuhe, she suggested, “The band could play the wedding march, or maybe a romantic jazz song?”
“Yes! Do a couple’s dance.” A staff member holding a camera seemed to already see the viral moment. “With your looks, people will love it!”
“…”
Shang Sui tried to imagine that scene and went quiet.
He gave Shi Qi a helpless smile. “What now? I don’t know how to dance.”
He did know some basic ballroom steps, but performing them now would just be ridiculous.
Still, he didn’t suggest giving the bracelet back or leaving Shi Qi to go on stage alone.
Shi Qi caught his pleading look. “Can you sing?”
–
The art school’s meeting time was set for 6:30, and it was already 6:10.
Qin Shuhe glanced over; Shi Qi and Shang Sui were still talking to the band about the song. It would take at least twenty minutes to get from the plaza to the meeting point.
Qin Shuhe typed out a flurry of messages to another supervising teacher on his phone, then sidled up to Shang Sui as if seeking credit. “Ge! I talked to Teacher He. She’ll cover for you, so no need to rush.”
“She even asked me to record a video; she wants to see you and your wife perform.”
“…” Shi Qi shot him a glare. “Macaw, could you mind your words a bit?”
“Thank you.” Shang Sui smiled at him and mentally gave Qin Shuhe credit.
Qin Shuhe only picked out the praise, completely ignoring Shi Qi’s death stare. “Hehe, anytime!”
Curious, he asked, “So, what song did you two end up choosing?”
When he saw the title, Qin Shuhe was stunned.
Not because it was a bad choice—he actually liked it a lot, but…
“Why did you two pick such a sad song?” Qin Shuhe said, then quickly justified it himself. “Well, maybe it works. Compared to last year’s goofy comedy routine, this year we go full-on emo mode.”
Every year during the Flower Festival, the performers who received the most bracelets were usually either exceptionally good-looking or had a unique personal charm. Tourists gathered early in the square, eagerly awaiting the performance.
After the staff announced that the number of bracelets received by a couple this year was equal and that they would perform on stage together, a small cheer rose from the audience.
“I’ve spent three Flower Festivals in Qijiang, but this is the first time I’ve seen something like this.”
“Hey, over there, they’re coming out!”
“Oh my god, top-tier! If I was doubting the results a second ago, now I can only say it’s well-deserved.”
“A handsome guy next to another handsome guy—such a well-matched pair of faces!”
The sky darkened, lanterns lit up the night like daylight, and the evening breeze carried the fragrance of flowers.
Just as Qin Shuhe had said, in the end, they had chosen a sad love song.
The protagonist of the song had a secret crush, watching him from afar and taking note of all his preferences. From their very first meeting, it felt as though they had been close friends for years. Afraid of exposing a long-harbored affection, he cautiously concealed the truth.
“Why this song?” When Shi Qi first saw the song Shang Sui had picked, he had been a bit surprised too.
“Because…”
There was a time when I imagined that if I ever saw you again, it would probably be just like the ‘me’ in the song.
But Shang Sui didn’t answer the question directly. “I’ve listened to it a lot, so I naturally learned it.”
The intro featured electric guitar chords and light drumming that created a sensation of weightlessness, as if traveling through an underwater tunnel bathed in an orange-yellow light.
Shi Qi had always liked Shang Sui’s voice. The first time he heard him sing, the raspy tone combined with the somewhat moody chord progression wasn’t deep or heavy; instead, it emphasized the texture of his voice, making it sound especially clear.
“With a face more pretentious than anyone’s, I beat you to it in calling it our first meeting.”
Shang Sui held the microphone and turned his head, stirred by emotion.
Shi Qi was staring right at him, his usually lively cat-like eyes now showing a dazed expression, as if completely entranced by the song.
“Having cared in secret for so long, stepping on stage still didn’t fall short of a true friend.”
Shi Qi snapped out of it and mouthed the words to him: Sounds great.
Fool.
Shang Sui couldn’t help but laugh a little. Do you know what I actually wanted to say?
Shi Qi grumbled silently, What are you laughing at? Can’t I even compliment you? You can go ask around—I rarely praise someone’s singing. Then, after a moment, he also laughed.
When it was Shi Qi’s part, he counted the beats in his head.
Singing came easily to him, and performing on stage was routine.
But tonight, something unlike any night before lingered close. His heart felt like a spore floating freely in the wind, slowly drifting upward into the sky.
During the verse, Shi Qi deliberately held back his voice. What flowed into the microphone was pure and moving, like the soft clinking of ice cubes. Only in the chorus did he truly release his voice.
“Afraid to reveal the traces beneath the snow, I use flowers as testimony.”
“It’s my whispering heart and tongue that are most illicit; still, I strive to make the rusted parts look beautiful.”
In the front row, Qin Shuhe swayed along as he listened. “Hey, no joke, the two of them really sound great together, and their vocal tones match! If you hadn’t told me, I’d think they were lead singers from some band.”
Remembering how Shi Qi had called him a macaw, Qin Shuhe decided to repay resentment with kindness. “Like a pair of little larks—absolutely lovely!”
Lin Yan had been focused on filming, but finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Can you shut up? Your squawking has completely taken over the larks’ song.”
The originally melancholic song had inexplicably turned sweet and gradually came to an end with the final dreamy, hazy accompaniment.
The audience was left wanting more. Suddenly, someone gathered the courage to shout, “How about a kiss—!”
Qin Shuhe chimed in with a howl, “Smooch, peck, kiss-kiss! Pick one, babies!”
Shi Qi had never experienced such a wild curtain call. His hand slipped, and he nearly dropped the microphone.
Shang Sui reacted quickly and grabbed the mic. In a voice only the two of them could hear, he teased, “Getting this excited… Xiao Qi really wants a kiss from me, huh?”
Shi Qi’s gaze involuntarily fell on his lips.
His moist red lips were slightly curved. As he spoke, his breath seemed to carry a seductive fragrance.
For a moment, Shi Qi’s eyes were dazed. Snapping out of it, he became angry from embarrassment. “Dream on. I don’t want that!”
Even though no one could hear what they were saying, it was obvious they were a couple playfully bickering.
Laughter broke out all around, followed by a wave of continuous applause.
Shang Sui dropped his unserious expression and gently praised, “Xiao Qi, your singing was beautiful.”
The gaze that fell on him was like ripples spreading outward. Under his stare, Shi Qi’s heartbeat was faster than it had been while singing.
He averted his eyes and tried to act calm. “You weren’t bad either.”
After the performance, Qin Shuhe rushed over and pretended to be serious as he asked, “Are you two interested in debuting? We can start with a five-year management contract and provide a full team…”
“Enough, drop the act,” Shi Qi interrupted. “Aren’t you guys in a hurry? Go on.”
It wasn’t ideal to keep troubling the other teacher, so Shang Sui nodded. “I’ll head off then. See you later.”
After they left, Lin Yan suddenly grimaced. “Crap, I think I’m gonna puke.”
He’d already felt unwell during the performance but had forced himself through it.
“Did you eat too much shaved ice?”
While making bracelets in the afternoon, there was a shaved ice shop nearby.
Lin Yan had eaten three servings of peanut milk shaved ice by himself, so this wasn’t a surprise. Unfortunately, the nearest restroom was still some distance away. Shi Qi walked there with the pale-faced Lin Yan, while Yu Zhiling quietly followed behind.
After using the restroom, Shi Qi waited outside.
Yanyan: [You guys go ahead.]
Yanyan: [I can’t throw up yet, I need a bit more time.]
17: [ …Alright. Good luck. ]
Yu Zhiling stared at Shi Qi’s back as he typed on his phone. His fingers slowly dug into his palm.
Since his conflict with Shang Sui, Shi Qi hadn’t taken the initiative to speak to him. Even when he did respond, he was very cold.
He had planned to find a way to talk to Shi Qi back at the hotel… but he hadn’t expected a chance to come this soon.
There was no one else around. Yu Zhiling took a deep breath. While Shi Qi was absorbed in his phone, he took a medicine box from his bag, poured a large handful of pills into his palm, and swallowed them all.
This kind of medication could alter an Omega’s heat cycle. Once taken, it would bring on heat early. Since the drug acted directly on the glands, the pheromones would start leaking first, with the rest of the body showing symptoms later.
Simply put, after taking the medication, the pheromones would enter a heat-like state first, but he himself would not be significantly affected for the time being.
At first, he took the medication due to his busy work schedule. Later, whenever he got involved with other Omegas, he would use it to adjust the timing of his heat, keeping himself in a more clear-headed and dominant state. The side effects included pheromonal imbalance and mental instability.
Shi Qi twitched his nose and suddenly caught a strong scent of iris, a slightly powdery fragrance enveloping him completely.
“You…”
“Xiao Qi.” Yu Zhiling gripped his hand as if in panic. “I think I’m going into heat.”
This time, Shi Qi didn’t pull away. His eyes showed a trace of anxiety. “Where are your suppressants?”
Yu Zhiling shook his head, his eyes red.
Shi Qi had just come out of his own heat not long ago and didn’t have any suppressants on him. He quickly sent a message to Lin Yan.
17: [Do you have any suppressants?]
Yanyan: [Huh? I didn’t bring any today.]
Yanyan: [Is it Yu Zhiling?]
Lin Yan quickly sent a screenshot.
Yanyan: [I looked it up, and there’s a safehouse just a kilometer away. Go there quickly!]
Safehouses were emergency shelters set up for Omegas, designed to isolate pheromones to the greatest extent and stocked with a sufficient supply of suppressants. In recent years, they had been established in places with heavy foot traffic, like tourist spots and malls.
Omegas in heat could influence each other. But the mark Shang Sui left on Shi Qi had not yet faded, so he wouldn’t be induced into heat by Yu Zhiling’s pheromones in the short term.
It was too dangerous to let Yu Zhiling go alone. Shi Qi made a quick decision. “Come on, I’ll go with you to the safehouse.”
Fortunately, it seemed everyone else had gone to attend the festival. The path leading to the safehouse was secluded, and they didn’t encounter any trouble along the way.
Yu Zhiling seemed to be in bad shape. Seeing that he could barely stand, Shi Qi reached out to support him.
The hot breath brushed against the back of his neck. Shi Qi’s glands were sensitive, but thinking about Yu Zhiling’s current condition, he held back and said nothing.
At the entrance of the safehouse, Yu Zhiling scanned the code with his phone. Shi Qi turned his back when he saw this.
“You set the password. I won’t look.”
The safehouse password was set by the user and was, by default, the same as the password for the cabinet containing suppressants inside.
Shi Qi stood facing away, fiddling with his phone. But he didn’t hear the door open and asked hesitantly, “Did you set it?”
Just then, the sound of the door opening rang out. An Omega in heat should’ve been weak, but judging from the noise, Yu Zhiling had kicked the door open.
Two arms wrapped around Shi Qi’s shoulders from behind, and a sultry voice trailed up to his ears—
“Stay with me a little longer.”
With a clatter, Shi Qi’s phone fell to the ground.
Yu Zhiling reached out and pulled the completely unguarded Shi Qi into the room.
If Shi Qi hadn’t come with him to the safehouse, that would’ve been the end of it.
But knowing that Omegas in heat could affect one another, Shi Qi still chose to accompany him.
You can’t let me go either, can you?
“What are you doing?”
Shi Qi watched as he locked the door behind him, trapping them both inside, and finally realized something was wrong.
He instinctively tried to push Yu Zhiling away, but the other’s strength was astonishing, not at all like an Omega in heat.
Yu Zhiling’s eyes blazed. “I like you… Xiao Qi, I’ve always liked you.”
Shi Qi stiffened, almost thinking he’d misheard.
“From the day you saved me, I haven’t been able to forget that scene,” Yu Zhiling murmured. “To me, you looked like you were glowing.”
“I know you don’t like Omegas. If I told you, you’d definitely stay far away from me.”
“But I couldn’t help it.” Yu Zhiling grabbed his arm, looking at him pitifully. “Please, like me too.”
The shock was too much for Shi Qi. He couldn’t react for a moment.
“I have a boyfriend.” He forced himself to stay calm. “I’ve only ever seen you as a friend. There’s no possibility of anything more between us.”
After being rejected, Yu Zhiling lowered his head and didn’t speak for a long time.
The strained voice sounded like pus seeping from a festering wound, so hoarse it was almost eerie. “Didn’t you promise me? That we’d be together.”
When he looked up again, a trace of resentment had crept into Yu Zhiling’s eyes. “Why did you start dating? And with an Alpha no less… You know I hate Alphas the most!”
Shi Qi said in disbelief, “What are you thinking? That was just a joke!”
“Yeah, a joke.”
“After all, you’re like a tiny figure living inside a glass ball. You don’t understand anything.”
“If you’d never fallen for anyone, I would’ve kept my feelings hidden forever.”
Shi Qi couldn’t bear to listen anymore. “Enough. Stop talking.”
His resistance seemed to please the other. Shi Qi heard laughter beside his ear, followed by obscene murmurs.
“Don’t rush. Let me finish.”
“I know you have a boyfriend. I hate Alphas, but if it’s you, I can tolerate it.” Yu Zhiling continued on his own. “I’ll just pretend he doesn’t exist.”
He no longer knew whether it was a side effect of the medication or his real thoughts. Just feeling that Shi Qi was right there within reach, enveloped in his pheromones, made Yu Zhiling feel thrilled. His cheeks were flushed, and he eagerly suggested:
“Let’s be together behind Shang Sui’s back.”
Shi Qi never imagined he would have such an outrageous idea. It felt like countless slimy bugs were crawling over his skin. Disgusted to the core, he shoved him hard—
Yu Zhiling hadn’t expected such a sudden outburst. Caught off guard, he staggered backward and nearly lost his balance.
Shi Qi took the chance to turn around. His fingers had just touched the keypad when he couldn’t help but curse under his breath.
The safehouse had a dual lock system. Without the code, it couldn’t be opened from the inside.
