TBHA chapter 11

Finally, the evening self-study session was over. Yu Jiu let out a long sigh of relief as he sat at his desk.

He thought to himself that his initial discomfort around Zhai Chi was probably just psychological. Three periods of self-study had passed, and it wasn’t as unbearable as he had imagined.

After tidying up his books and exam papers, he made a trip to the office.

Zhao Yun had specifically asked him to come before the end of the evening study session, most likely regarding the recent monthly exam.

As Yu San had mentioned, their homeroom teacher, Zhao Yun, was a good person.

Inside the office, the other teachers had already left as soon as the bell rang, leaving only Zhao Yun still at his post. He had a habit of personally reviewing students’ test results after each exam.

When Yu Jiu arrived, Zhao Yun was looking at Zhai Chi’s grades.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Yu Jiu walked in softly.

Hearing the footsteps, Zhao Yun looked up and got straight to the point. “Your mother just called.”

Yu Jiu: “…”

Hearing this, Yu Jiu’s heart skipped a beat involuntarily.

He tried to keep his expression calm. “What did she say?”

Zhao Yun replied, “She asked about your test scores.”

Yu Jiu remained silent.

If she had only asked about his grades, Zhao Yun wouldn’t have called him to the office.

Zhao Yun, though just over thirty, had a mature and steady presence. He was somewhat familiar with Yu Jiu’s family situation.

Yu Jiu’s mother cared about him deeply—perhaps too deeply.

The constant daily phone calls and inquiries were suffocating even for an outsider like Zhao Yun. He could only imagine what it was like for Yu Jiu himself.

With a soft sigh, Zhao Yun continued, “She also asked about Zhang Yangfei’s score. Since the second-place ranking changed this time, she still doesn’t know the transfer student’s grade. She might be reassured now, but I can’t say for sure whether she’ll find out through other means.”

In this exam, Zhang Yangfei was more than ten points behind Yu Jiu, posing no “threat” to his ranking.

But Zhai Chi, who placed second, was only one point behind him.

“Do you need me to talk to her for you?”

Yu Jiu said, “No need. Thank you, Mr. Zhao. I’ll tell her myself.”

Zhao Yun looked at him with concern.

Yu Jiu smiled slightly. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m still ranked first, aren’t I?”

The smile on the teenager’s lips was natural and perfectly measured. If one didn’t know his situation, they wouldn’t have noticed that it was forced.

Zhao Yun sighed again. “Alright. I actually called you here for something else, too.”

He turned his laptop toward Yu Jiu. “This is Zhai Chi’s answer sheet for the math exam. Take a look.”

Yu Jiu leaned in to examine it. Not noticing anything unusual, he asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

Zhao Yun asked, “Do you know why you lost points on the last math problem?”

Yu Jiu nodded. “I made a miscalculation during the process. My method was correct, but my final answer was wrong, so I lost a few points.”

“But Zhai Chi got it right,” Zhao Yun said. “He used a different method than you—one that was simpler and less prone to mistakes.”

“…”

Yu Jiu remained silent. Zhao Yun glanced at him. “You don’t seem surprised that Zhai Chi scored so well.”

Yu Jiu hesitated, then said, “There’s always someone better out there. It’s nothing surprising… Is there something wrong with his answer sheet?”

“The answer sheet itself is fine,” Zhao Yun said, bringing the conversation back on track. “But the last open-ended problem and the final multiple-choice question were essentially the same type of problem. He got the open-ended one completely right but got the multiple-choice question wrong.”

Yu Jiu: “…”

There could be many reasons for mistakes in open-ended questions, as each step in the calculation could affect the final score. But the chances of getting a multiple-choice question wrong were much lower.

Multiple-choice answers were fixed options, and if a miscalculation led to an answer that didn’t match any of the choices, the test-taker would usually be prompted to double-check their work.

If Zhai Chi’s calculations were correct throughout, he shouldn’t have chosen the wrong answer.

“Of course, he might have simply been careless, like you,” Zhao Yun added. “If he had gotten that question right, the rankings would have been different this time.”

Yu Jiu’s hand, resting at his side, clenched slightly.

Zhao Yun continued, “You don’t need to feel pressured. Your grades are solid, but you really need to work on your carelessness. Double-check your answers more carefully.”

“…I understand.”

Leaving the office, Yu Jiu felt a dull ache in his head. He raised a hand to rub his temples.

First, the effect of the pheromones. Then, the narrow gap in their scores. And finally, the ticking time bomb that was his mother.

His once peaceful school life had been disrupted by a single person’s arrival.

Why couldn’t that person just stay abroad instead of coming back to China?

Very soon, Yu Jiu shook his head vigorously again.

Whether it was pheromones or exam results, these were his own problems.

Even if Zhai Chi weren’t here, there would always be someone else.

Who could he blame?

The nightmares he couldn’t escape—how could he resent others for them?

Standing outside the dormitory, Yu Jiu took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Inside, there was an unexpected guest.

Seeing a third person in what was supposed to be a two-person dorm, Yu Jiu froze at the doorway.

The two people inside had their backs turned to him, near the door on the same side as his bed. They were busy making the bed, unaware of his presence.

The dormitory conditions at No. 1 High School were already considered superior to other schools. Each four-person dorm had four beds, with the top bunk designated for sleeping and the bottom bunk mostly used for storage or as a desk space.

Since the top bunk had limited space, only one person could be up there at a time.

At this moment, Zhang Yangfei was directing from below while the owner of the bed clumsily followed his instructions, kneeling awkwardly on the mattress.

An 185 cm tall guy, curled up on a bed less than 150 cm wide—no matter how you looked at it, it seemed out of place.

And that kneeling posture… The only time Yu Jiu had ever seen Zhai Chi in such a position was when they were kids, playing in the sand and building castles.

“You’re back?”

Zhang Yangfei glanced toward the door and said meaningfully, “Meet our new dormmate. Surprised?”

Yu Jiu felt surprise, but no joy.

He hesitated for a moment before asking casually, “Why was he assigned to our dorm?”

Zhai Chi was an Alpha. While Alpha and male Beta dorms were in the same building, they were usually kept separate.

“He’s here to seek refuge with you.”

Zhai Chi straightened up on the top bunk. “I just transferred here, don’t know anyone, and you’re the only familiar face.”

“…”

Ever since their past relationship was exposed by the class monitor, Zhai Chi no longer avoided mentioning that they knew each other.

“There weren’t any available spots in other dorms,” Zhang Yangfei explained. “The only room left in the Alpha section was Wu Yong’s, and I didn’t think that was a good option, so I placed him here instead.”

Wu Yong was a notoriously unhygienic Alpha from Class One. He was given a room to himself because no one was willing to share with him.

Understanding the situation, Yu Jiu stood at the doorway for a moment longer. He squeezed the medicine bottle in his uniform pocket, hesitated, then asked, “Need any help?”

“No need,” Zhai Chi said. “Almost done.”

Yu Jiu breathed a sigh of relief. “…Then I’ll go wash up first.”

With that, he walked past Zhang Yangfei without hesitation, his steps brisk and decisive.

Zhai Chi paused in his actions, watching Yu Jiu’s back as he disappeared into the bathroom, deep in thought.

“Don’t take it personally. He’s probably just a little nervous,” Zhang Yangfei explained when he saw Zhai Chi lost in thought.

Zhai Chi raised an eyebrow. “Nervous?”

“Yeah.” Zhang Yangfei said, “Yu Jiu doesn’t like Alpha pheromones. Actually, it’s not just him—most of us Betas don’t like them either.”

Alpha pheromones were often oppressive and aggressive. Although Beta gland development was incomplete, meaning they couldn’t sense pheromones like Omegas could, the mere scent of them was a constant reminder of the hierarchy between Alphas and Betas.

“Think about it. Yu Jiu is 180 cm tall, good-looking, excels in academics—by all standards, he seems like he should be an Alpha. But he never differentiated.”

Whenever people praised Yu Jiu, some jealous Alphas would counter with, “No matter how good he is, he’s still just a Beta,” as if being an Alpha inherently made them superior.

And the truth was, Alphas did have a sense of superiority over Betas.

Hearing such remarks repeatedly—no matter how indifferent someone appeared on the surface—who would truly feel comfortable around Alphas?

Zhai Chi frowned slightly as he listened.

He had a feeling that Yu Jiu’s attitude toward him wasn’t just because he was an Alpha.

Ever since the class switch during evening study, Yu Jiu had been subtly distancing himself.

Neither warm nor cold—his attitude was even more distant than when they had casually eaten together in the cafeteria.

How was it that the more he tried to mend their relationship, the more it regressed?

Zhai Chi let out a silent, bitter smile.

Perhaps Zhang Yangfei’s words had stuck with him because for the next two days, there wasn’t a single trace of Alpha pheromones in the dorm.

Even the towel and bed Zhai Chi used—he would consciously spray odor-blocking agents on them after waking up and washing up.

His consideration ended up making Zhang Yangfei, who had reminded him in the first place, feel a little guilty.

But Yu Jiu, on the other hand, visibly relaxed.

So, Zhai Chi figured—it was worth the effort.

By the weekend, students eagerly anticipated their monthly break, which coincided with the May Day holiday. As soon as the final class bell rang, the classroom erupted in excitement as students rushed out.

Yu Jiu always went home during breaks. He hailed a cab at the school gate, gave the driver his address, and leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed.

The driver, a young man in his early twenties, thought he was still close enough in age to these high schoolers to avoid a generation gap. Seeing that his passenger didn’t look well, he casually pointed out Yu Jiu’s attempt to fake sleep.

“What’s wrong? Didn’t do well on your exams? Afraid of getting scolded at home?”

“…”

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal if you didn’t do well. Just talk to your parents properly. Tell them, ‘I promise I’ll do better next time,’ and keep a good attitude. They’ll calm down soon enough. You’re still young—what’s there to stress about?”

Yu Jiu slowly opened his eyes in the back seat.

He thought to himself: If failing an exam and getting scolded were my only problems, that would actually be a relief.

But he didn’t explain.

Instead, he glanced at the driver through the rearview mirror, curved his lips into a small smile, and said, “Thanks.”