Liang Yan had no idea what Ji Qiu was thinking behind him. In fact, he wasn’t even sure why he agreed to come out in the first place. He just felt like he had nothing better to do, so why not?
As it turned out, Ji Qiu had called him out just to study. The library wasn’t a place for chatting, so the two of them quietly focused on their own tasks. Compared to being out with Jiang Xinglan, this felt much more relaxed and effortless.
In the following days, Ji Qiu returned to his usual self—sometimes attending Liang Yan’s classes uninvited, sometimes sending him the occasional message.
The shift, if there was one, happened after a large lecture one day.
S-Class and A-Class had different schedules for that course, and Ji Qiu had another class that day, so he couldn’t join.
Yin Tongguang had stayed up too late the night before doing who-knows-what. Since the professor for this course wasn’t particularly strict, he simply skipped class altogether.
After the lecture, Liang Yan left the tiered classroom alone. Just as he was about to head back, he saw someone he hadn’t seen in a few days walking toward him.
It was Jiang Xinglan.
Liang Yan was about to politely find an excuse to turn down whatever invitation was coming, but before he could speak, Jiang Xinglan beat him to it.
“I won’t take up too much of your time. I just have something to say. Can we talk?”
Liang Yan thought, Well, I guess this was inevitable.
They ended up at the same café again. This time, Jiang Xinglan took the initiative to order him a milk tea before choosing the quietest spot.
When they sat down, both seemed a little tense.
It was as if they both knew what was coming—just waiting for someone to break the silence.
After a while, Jiang Xinglan looked at Liang Yan and, trying to appear composed, asked, “Do you… have someone you like?”
Liang Yan wasn’t particularly interested in this topic, but his instincts told him that whatever unresolved matter existed between them might find closure here. He shook his head honestly. “No.”
Jiang Xinglan didn’t seem relieved. Thinking about what happened with Ji Qiu that day, he felt his question hadn’t been clear enough and quickly added, “It doesn’t have to be an Alpha. A Beta or an Omega is fine too.”
A flicker of doubt crossed Liang Yan’s mind. He didn’t understand why Jiang Xinglan was asking this. He’d never considered that kind of attraction before. After a brief hesitation, he answered, “No.”
Only then did Jiang Xinglan finally relax. The silence between them stretched on.
Liang Yan wasn’t one to feel awkward in silence, but Jiang Xinglan, on the other hand, seemed hesitant, as if struggling with what to say next. After a pause, he finally spoke again.
“Then, Liang Yan,” he said, pausing for a second. The usual gentlemanly demeanor seemed slightly uneasy now. “I don’t want to drag this out. I know I’ve been seeking you out often lately, and that’s because… I want something beyond just friendship with you.”
Jiang Xinglan had always been graceful and composed. Even his confession was restrained and polite. “Do you… understand what I mean?”
Liang Yan didn’t pretend to be oblivious. He simply nodded. “Yeah.”
His expression was calm, as if he had expected this conversation all along.
Jiang Xinglan couldn’t quite read him, but he still followed his usual approach—state his thoughts clearly. “I think… you’re a very suitable Omega for me.”
Yes, suitable.
At first, Jiang Xinglan had no particular interest in this person. But his father had returned to the country for a reunion with old friends, and Jiang Xinglan had accompanied him. That was when he met this so-called cold and quiet Omega.
His father had taught him from a young age: If you want something, you have to work for it.
No matter how much society advocated for Omega equality, in the end, the world still belonged to Alphas.
Jiang Xinglan was born with an advantage. He was talented and driven, and he had never faced any real obstacles on his climb upward.
He was used to finding the most suitable path for himself—smart, decisive, methodical. Every step he took was calculated, every decision free of regret.
And at some point, he decided he needed an Omega.
He didn’t care about pheromone levels or compatibility reports. None of that should matter as long as the person was suitable.
And Liang Yan seemed to fit that definition perfectly.
Their families were familiar with each other. They were of similar age, had comparable life experiences—one studying medicine, the other law. A perfect match.
Liang Yan didn’t talk much. He could be a little cold at times, but Jiang Xinglan preferred that over those overly chatty, delicate little Omegas.
From every angle, Liang Yan was the most suitable choice.
So naturally, he wanted to have him.
He had tried to gather information from Ji Qiu, only to be hit with an unexpected revelation instead.
If Liang Yan really liked Omegas, would I still have a chance?
For the first time, Jiang Xinglan felt anxious. He wanted to lay his cards on the table as soon as possible.
But before he could continue, Liang Yan’s voice interrupted his thoughts, breaking the silence.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t want our relationship to go any further.”
Jiang Xinglan hadn’t expected such a blunt rejection. He was momentarily stunned. “Why? We’re a perfect match.”
Liang Yan smiled faintly, saying nothing.
The smile was fleeting, almost imperceptible. But at the very end of it, a shallow dimple could just barely be seen.
“But I don’t care about pheromone levels or compatibility reports. I believe people shouldn’t be defined by such things. I simply want what I want. I hope you won’t have any concerns about this and will seriously consider me.”
Jiang Xinglan, of course, wasn’t willing to give up so easily. He continued to lay out his reasoning.
Liang Yan sighed.
He looked up at Jiang Xinglan. His tone was sincere, and his attitude was genuine. But…
Liang Yan gave a polite smile. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
Jiang Xinglan paused for a moment before replying, “You’re an outstanding Omega with strong opinions.”
Hearing this, Liang Yan instinctively blinked. There was no mockery in his gaze, only a faint, weary indifference.
He repeated Jiang Xinglan’s words. “So, I’m a very suitable Omega for you, right?”
Jiang Xinglan nodded.
“You don’t care about my thoughts, nor do you feel the need to truly understand me. If an Omega who was an even better match appeared, you would choose them without hesitation.” Liang Yan rarely spoke at length, but now he did. “Because what you want isn’t a partner—it’s just someone who is suitable.”
Jiang Xinglan felt misunderstood. “But isn’t that how people usually find a partner? By looking at pheromones, compatibility tests? If love is purely driven by instinct, can it even be considered love?”
For the first time, Liang Yan found communication difficult. When he spoke again, his tone had cooled. “But if you deliberately suppress your instincts, placing yourself above your natural tendencies, and only choose someone based on your own calculated trajectory… does that make it right?”
Jiang Xinglan grew anxious, his speech quickening. “What’s wrong with choosing someone suitable?”
Liang Yan seemed to think of something, his gaze darkening slightly. His voice was soft. “Maybe… I’m still someone who is guided by instinct.”
After sending Jiang Xinglan off, Liang Yan felt strangely unsettled.
It wasn’t because of Jiang Xinglan’s whole theory about suitability, but rather, the last thing he said before leaving.
“I’ll try to become the kind of person you want, without intruding on you,” Jiang Xinglan had said. “At least, until you fall for someone else.”
“That someone else could be of any gender—I have no bias. But I just hope… I’m not too late.”
Liang Yan frowned.
The way he said that… it almost sounded like he believed Liang Yan would fall for someone of the same sex.
At first, Liang Yan didn’t take it seriously. But then, something crossed his mind.
Jiang Xinglan had talked to Ji Qiu before.
Could it be…?
Before his thoughts could spiral further, he dismissed them as nonsense.
Liang Yan walked back to his dorm alone, unhurried.
He suddenly remembered something Yin Tongguang had said to him before.
Back then, he had asked Yin Tongguang if he liked Lai Qiutong.
Yin Tongguang had denied it firmly, saying, “I’m just a Beta without glands. How could I possibly go after such an outstanding Alpha?”
He had said—
“Liking someone means wanting to attend classes with them, study together, do experiments together, plan the future together. When you’re happy, you want to share it with them. When you’re sad, you want their comfort. If you find something fun, you want to experience it with them. If you have something delicious, you want to share it with them.”
“And when you’re free, you think of them.”
Even when you’re busy, you still think of them.
Liang Yan let out a soft breath, blending into the crisp, chilly autumn wind.
Something felt off.
His hands felt a little stiff from the cold, so he shoved them back into his pockets for warmth.
Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
The slight buzz pulled him from his thoughts. He took out his phone, feeling the faint warmth left on the screen.
Sliding his finger across the screen, he saw two lines of text—just one message.
[Ji Qiu: (Image)]
The picture showed a quiet corner of the old school building.
Golden ginkgo leaves fluttered to the ground, carpeting the path like delicate butterfly wings. The soft, muted hues of the evening cast an old-world autumn charm over the scene, painting everything in warm gold.
[Ji Qiu: Just passed by and thought it looked beautiful. Suddenly felt like taking a picture and sending it to you.]
