Chapter 2: Sweet Alpha

Ji Xu ate two full bowls of rice, scraping up every last grain until the bottom of the bowl was clean enough to reflect a silhouette.

He set his bowl down, leaned back, and sank deep into the sofa with a satisfied sigh.

The springs of the sofa creaked softly.

He shifted his position, curled his legs up, and narrowed his eyes comfortably to look at Rong Du.

Rong Du was still sitting opposite him, his chopsticks resting on the rim of his bowl, looking at him with a half-smile.

“What are you looking at?” Ji Xu touched his own face.

“Do I have rice on my face?”

“No.” Rong Du shook his head, though the amusement in his eyes deepened.

“I just think the way you eat is exactly the same as when you were little—cheeks puffed out like a squirrel hiding pinecones.”

Ji Xu’s face instantly turned bright red.

He snatched a cushion from the sofa intending to throw it over, but lowered his hand halfway through.

He huffed: “Rong Du, your cooking has gotten better and better. Back home, your cooking wasn’t this delicious.”

“Of course. After making my own way out in the world for a few years, I had to learn how to feed myself.”

Rong Du stood up, stacked the empty bowls together, and casually cleared the utensils in front of Ji Xu.

As he walked past Ji Xu, he lightly nudged Ji Xu’s lower leg with his toe: “Go take a shower first, you’re covered in sweat smell. I’ll handle the cleanup.”

Ji Xu hesitated slightly: “That feels a bit embarrassing…”

Though he said that, he had already bounced up from the sofa, moving so fast that Rong Du didn’t even have time to reply.

He had already sprinted into the bedroom, unzipping his luggage to rummage for a change of clothes while humming a nameless tune out of key.

Standing in the living room, Rong Du watched that fluffy head bobbing around, let out a helpless laugh, and lowered his head to continue clearing the leftovers from the table.

When Ji Xu held his clothes and slipped into the bathroom, Rong Du was putting the bowls into the sink, the running water washing over the rims and carrying away the grease and rice grains.

He turned his head and, through the half-ajar bathroom door, heard rustling movements inside, followed by the sound of the shower being turned on.

The sound of water suddenly became loud and rushing, and steam seeped out from the crack of the door, bringing a wave of humid warmth.

The bathroom wasn’t large; a mirror occupied half the wall, covered with a thin layer of water mist.

Ji Xu hung his clean clothes on the hook behind the door and turned to see two toothbrush mugs placed on the sink counter.

One was a plain blue cup with no pattern on its outer wall and a bit of toothpaste residue on the rim—clearly the one Rong Du used.

The other was pure white, printed with a little rabbit with perked-up ears, pink cheeks, round eyes, and a fluffy tail protruding from the handle.

Beside the rabbit cup lay an unopened toothbrush, also pink, with a rabbit head printed on the handle as well.

Ji Xu picked up the rabbit toothbrush mug, turned it over in his hands a couple of times, and the corners of his lips curved upward uncontrollably.

He pictured Rong Du standing in front of the supermarket shelves, frowning as he browsed through rows of colorful mugs, before picking up this rabbit, hesitating for two seconds, and dropping it into the shopping cart.

The mental image was vivid enough that Ji Xu almost burst out laughing.

Glancing again at the plain blue cup beside it, he suddenly thought of another possibility.

Maybe Rong Du didn’t like the rabbit himself, but thought Ji Xu would like it.

After all, ever since they were young, Rong Du had always treated him like a kid, choosing cute things whenever he bought anything for him.

At this thought, a corner of Ji Xu’s heart softened, as if soaked in warm water, bubbling up with tiny, cozy bubbles.

Unwrapping the new toothbrush, he squeezed toothpaste onto it and began brushing his teeth facing the mirror.

The person in the mirror had hair reaching halfway down to his shoulders, damp wisps clinging to his temples and forehead, with his cheeks still carrying a flush from the stuffy train ride.

As Ji Xu brushed, he suddenly leaned in closer to inspect his eyes.

His eyelashes were very long—something Rong Du had nagged him about countlessly since childhood: “Pretty Little Ji, why are your eyelashes so long, like a baby doll?”

Looking now, they really were quite long, casting a small fan-shaped shadow under the light.

After washing up, he stripped his clothes and stepped into the shower enclosure.

As hot water poured over his head, he let out a comfortable hum.

After sitting on the train for an entire day, every joint in his bones felt packed with dust and exhaustion, but the hot water washed those away bit by bit.

He closed his eyes and let the stream flow down his hair, over his neck and shoulders, and all the way down his spine.

The bathroom quickly filled with white steam, and water droplets condensed on the walls, slowly trickling down the tile gaps.

Ji Xu took a long shower.

He washed his hair twice, thoroughly lathered himself with body wash, and even squatted on the shower floor to scrub every single toe.

Truth be told, he usually didn’t linger this long in the shower.

The hot water in his school dorm was timed; halfway through every wash, the temperature would drop, while people outside rushed him.

But here was different.

The hot water seemed endless, flowing endlessly, and Rong Du didn’t rush him from outside.

So he simply took his time, letting the water run over him a bit longer until the skin on his fingertips became wrinkled from soaking.

By the time he finally turned off the shower, dried himself with a towel, and walked out in a clean short-sleeved shirt and shorts, an hour had already passed.

His hair was still dripping, and he rubbed it haphazardly with the towel as he walked toward the living room.

Water droplets flung everywhere from his hair tips, a few splashing onto the floor.

Rong Du had already cleaned up the kitchen and was sitting on the sofa looking at his phone.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up, his gaze falling on Ji Xu’s still-dripping hair, his brow furrowing slightly: “Why didn’t you blow-dry your hair?”

“I didn’t know where the hairdryer was.” Ji Xu stood in the middle of the living room, clutching the half-damp towel in his hand.

Wet hair clung to the sides of his face and neck, soaking a small dark patch into the shoulder of his newly changed light-gray T-shirt.

His face was flushed red from the heat of the bathroom, and his lips were redder than usual, likely due to accelerated blood circulation.

He stood there, eyes lowered, looking at his own toes as water from his hair dripped onto the floor in front of his feet.

Looking at him, Rong Du suddenly felt the expression on Ji Xu’s face looked somewhat aggrieved.

It was clearly just a matter of not finding the hairdryer, but paired with that heat-flushed face and dripping hair, he looked like a small animal soaked through by rain, standing at the door waiting for someone to open it.

Rong Du stood up from the sofa, walked over, and took the towel from his hands.

“Lower your head,” Rong Du said.

Ji Xu obediently lowered his head.

Rong Du covered his head with the towel and began rubbing it with moderate pressure.

His fingers pressed through the towel onto Ji Xu’s scalp, his calloused fingertips giving a slightly rough friction feeling as they rubbed past.

Ji Xu felt immensely comfortable, even his spine relaxed, his shoulders dropping, and his head tilting forward slightly until it almost rested against Rong Du’s chest.

“The hairdryer is in the drawer under the bathroom cabinet,” Rong Du said while drying his hair.

“Next time you finish showering, just grab it directly. Keeping it on the counter before kept tripping over the cord, so I tucked it away.”

Ji Xu gave a muffled ‘mhm’, his voice muffled by the towel and somewhat slurred.

Once it was rubbed halfway dry, Rong Du set down the towel, took Ji Xu by the wrist, and walked toward the bathroom.

Ji Xu’s wrist was very slender, the joints distinct, feeling thin inside the grip.

Rong Du’s thumb rested on his wrist bone, feeling the steady thrum of the pulse beneath the skin.

He pulled open the drawer underneath the bathroom mirror, and sure enough, the hairdryer lay quietly inside—a white body with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

Rong Du plugged in the hairdryer and adjusted the temperature setting.

Warm air surged out from the nozzle, blowing onto the back of Ji Xu’s head.

Holding the hairdryer in one hand, he reached his other hand into Ji Xu’s hair, running his fingers through from the roots to let the warm wind evenly dry every strand.

Ji Xu’s hair was very soft, carrying the fragrance of shampoo—the honey-scented one Rong Du kept in the bathroom.

The sweet aroma rose alongside the steam.

Ji Xu stood before the sink, facing the mirror, watching the person half a head taller than him standing behind him.

With lowered eyes, Rong Du looked utterly focused, drying his hair strand by strand as if performing a piece of precision work.

Occasionally, a stray gust of warm air blew onto Ji Xu’s ear, warm and ticklish, making him involuntarily shrink his neck.

“Don’t move,” Rong Du pressed a hand against his shoulder.

So Ji Xu stayed still.

The warm wind blew continuously, Rong Du’s fingers weaving through his hair with light, slow movements that carried a strange soothing effect.

Ji Xu’s eyelids began to grow heavy, his vision of the mirror gradually blurring.

He blinked, wanting to wake himself up, but drowsiness surged over him like a tide.

The humming noise of the hairdryer grew distant, as if separated by a veil.

Uncontrollably, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Rong Du’s collarbone.

The movement in Rong Du’s hands paused.

Ji Xu’s breathing had already turned even and shallow, his eyelashes closed, casting two small fan-shaped shadows beneath his eyes.

His head rested in the hollow of Rong Du’s collarbone, his body leaning slightly, supported entirely from slumping over by the hand Rong Du had placed on his shoulder.

Asleep, Ji Xu looked even smaller than when awake; the flush on his cheeks hadn’t fully faded, and his lips were slightly parted, exposing the tiny tips of his teeth.

Rong Du turned off the hairdryer.

The humming ceased, and the bathroom fell instantly silent, leaving only the sound of tiny water droplets falling from Ji Xu’s hair tips onto the sink counter.

Looking down at the fluffy head resting against his chest, Rong Du suddenly found it a bit amusing.

Just a moment ago, he was lively enough to eat two bowls of rice, yet in the span of a shower, he fell sound asleep.

The train ride must have been truly exhausting; for an Alpha, his physical stamina was surprisingly poor.

He let out a soft sigh, put the hairdryer back into the drawer, bent down, wrapped one arm around Ji Xu’s back, passed the other beneath his knees, and lifted him up in a princess carry.

Ji Xu was truly light, his bones light as a feather, his flesh soft, feeling like holding a bundle of cotton wrapped around bones.

Rong Du adjusted his posture so Ji Xu’s head rested against his shoulder, then stepped out of the bathroom.

As he reached the bedroom doorway, Rong Du suddenly stopped in his tracks.

A sweet, cloying scent drifted from the side of his neck into his nostrils, so thick it was almost suffocating.

It was the scent of honey, but far richer and warmer than ordinary honey, carrying an indescribable, vibrant quality—like a beehive thoroughly baked by the afternoon summer sun, honey seeping from the cracks, thick and sticky in its sweetness.

Rong Du froze for a moment, then immediately realized—it was Ji Xu’s pheromones.

The gland on Ji Xu’s neck, resting against Rong Du’s shoulder socket, was uncontrollably releasing pheromones.

Likely because he fell fast asleep, his Alpha instincts let down their guard, and without restraint, the pheromones gushed out from the gland at his nape, filling the entire bedroom intensely and dominantly.

For an Alpha, his pheromones were shockingly sweet.

Rong Du sniffed; the honey scent drifted into his lungs, so sweet he felt a trace of aftertaste rise to the tip of his tongue.

Carrying Ji Xu to the bed, he carefully laid him down.

The moment Ji Xu’s back hit the mattress, he let out a soft whimper, turned over, buried his face into the pillow, and stopped moving again.

Rong Du pulled a light duvet over him and looked down at him for a moment.

Ji Xu’s pheromones continued to waft out incessantly, staining both the pillow and duvet with that sweet fragrance.

Rong Du reached out, his fingertip lightly touching Ji Xu’s cheek.

The skin was warm and soft, and Ji Xu unconsciously nuzzled against his fingers in his sleep.

“Can an Alpha’s pheromones really be this sweet?” Rong Du murmured softly, his voice so quiet it seemed as though he was afraid of waking someone.

He couldn’t tell who he was saying it to.

Withdrawing his hand, he dimmed the nightstand lamp and softly closed the bedroom door.

When Ji Xu woke up the next day, the light filtering through the curtain gap was already a bright bright-gold, clearly not early anymore.

Dazedly turning over, his nose rubbed against the pillow, catching a familiar smell—the detergent Rong Du used, mixed with the residual honey shampoo scent from his own hair, and a subtle, indescribable scent belonging to Rong Du himself.

Betas didn’t have pheromones, but Rong Du always carried a clean scent.

Ji Xu closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before reluctantly opening his eyes.

He was the only one in the bedroom.

The bedding on the other side of the bed was neat and tidy, without any trace of being slept on.

Ji Xu reached out to touch it; it was cold, meaning Rong Du had likely woken up very early.

He flipped over to sit up, rubbed his eyes, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and glanced at it—11:07 AM.

On the screen was a message sent by Rong Du at 7:30 AM.

“Axu, I went to work. There are steamed buns and porridge in the fridge; heat them up to eat. There is spare change in the cabinet by the door; if you go out to buy groceries or anything, take it yourself. The key is on the shoe cabinet, remember to take it.”

Ji Xu stared at that message twice, the corners of his lips curving up.

Putting down his phone, he walked barefoot across the floor to the doorway and pulled open the drawer next to the shoe cabinet.

Sure enough, inside lay a small tin box.

Opening it revealed a stack of neatly folded spare change, mostly tens and fives, with a paper note pressed on top.

Rong Du’s handwriting was wild and bold: “If it’s not enough, tell me.”

Ji Xu picked up the note, folded it neatly, and placed it into his pocket.

Then he walked to the window and pulled open the curtains; Haicheng’s sunlight poured in with a rush, illuminating the entire room bright and clear.

From downstairs came the shouts of street vendors, two honks of car horns echoed in the distance, and someone in the neighboring building was hanging laundry on the balcony, water droplets pattering down.

Standing by the window, Ji Xu took a deep breath—it was the scent of freedom.

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