Chapter 10: So Sweet, He Must Be an Omega

Ji Xu was pickled awake by his own scent.

When his consciousness gradually surfaced from the depths of sleep, the first thing he perceived was his sense of smell—an overly rich, sickly sweet honey odor wrapped tightly around him.

Honey on his pillow.

Honey inside his blanket.

Even the air he breathed into his lungs carried that thick, overbearing aroma.

He closed his eyes and twitched his nose.

That scent invaded his nasal cavity insidiously, far too concentrated, as though an entire jar of honey had been overturned right beside his pillow.

He rolled over, lifting his face off the pillow, and took a deep breath of the air further away, but it was still sweet.

Sticky all over, sweat and residual pheromones mingled together, pasting his T-shirt tightly against his skin.

With the slightest movement, he could feel that unpleasant stickiness between the fabric and his sweat-soaked skin.

Although he had always quite liked his own pheromones—feeling that a honey scent was far better than certain inexplicably weird smells—being marinated through and through in such a concentrated honey aroma all night still left him feeling rather uncomfortable upon waking up.

Just as eating too much sugar causes toothaches, even the sweetest thing becomes cloying in excess.

He closed his eyes and dawdled for a few more seconds before abruptly flipping off the blanket and sitting up.

Stepping barefoot onto the floor, the T-shirt he wore to sleep was already wrinkled and clinging to his body.

The gland at the back of his neck was no longer burning, though a thin layer of fine sweat still lingered on his skin.

Ji Xu dragged his feet into the bathroom.

He turned on the light.

In the mirror, his hair stuck up in a messy bush, and his cheek still bore sleep marks—a long red crease extending from his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth, pressed out by the folds of the pillow.

He reached out to touch the back of his neck.

The temperature of his gland had returned to normal.

Presumably, the suppressor shot from last night had taken effect, and after a full night’s rest, the torturous brunt of his susceptibility period had finally passed.

He took off his clothes and stepped into the shower stall.

As warm water cascaded down from above, the sticky layer of residual pheromones on his skin was washed away by the current.

He looked down at the pale white swirl of foam and fragrance circling around his feet before draining into the floor trap, finally feeling refreshed.

He washed himself twice, washed his hair again, and thoroughly scrubbed his neck, arms, and back with body wash.

The honey scent was largely covered up by the floral fragrance of the body wash, leaving only an exceedingly faint trace lingering at the tips of his hair and the side of his neck, like the lingering scent of flowers tucked away in a corner after summer had already passed.

Wiping his hair as he emerged from the bathroom, his entire body felt relaxed.

The hot water had softened his bones, making his steps float slightly, while his skin from neck to toes flushed with that warm, glowing pink typical of a fresh bath.

The sound of a kitchen knife chopping on a cutting board came from the living room, tapping rhythmically and briskly.

Ji Xu’s nose drifted toward the source of that smell—a mix of the clean fragrance of white rice porridge and the vinegary aroma of some cold dressed dish.

Wearing his slippers, he walked over to the kitchen doorway.

Dripping water from his wet hair, a towel draped over his neck, he leaned against the doorframe just like that, tilting his head to look at Rong Du inside.

Rong Du stood in front of the stove with his back to him, leaning down to slice something.

A row of green cucumber segments was lined up on the cutting board.

After a few swift whacks from his blade, the cracked cucumber cross-sections seeped bright, clear moisture.

A small bowl nearby was already mixed with sauce—minced garlic, vinegar, light soy sauce, and chili oil—tossed together to release a sour, spicy, appetite-stimulating fragrance.

The small pot on the stove was rising with gentle steam, white rice porridge bubbling softly inside, the rice water already simmered to a thick, velvety consistency with a layer of glistening rice oil floating on top.

Rong Du was wearing a light white short-sleeved shirt today, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms glistening with a thin sheen of sweat brought out by the kitchen heat.

Leaning on the doorframe, Ji Xu’s voice still carried that moist laziness typical of a post-shower state: “Rong Du, what are we eating today?”

Rong Du turned his head to look at him.

Ji Xu was resting against the edge of the doorframe just like that, dressed in a clean, dry short-sleeved shirt, water still dripping from his hair.

A few wet strands clung to his cheek and neck, his freshly washed cheeks flushed with a delicate pink, his lips moist and red.

The whole person looked soft and languid, like a flower petal that had been soaked in water and expanded open once more.

Rong Du’s line of sight slid from his face down to his neck and shoulders, and then back from his neck to his dripping hair tips, the corners of his mouth curling up very slightly.

“I simmered some porridge today, plus smashed cucumber, and garlic white pork slices.”

Rong Du dumped the smashed cucumbers into the bowl, drizzled the sauce over them, and stirred with chopsticks.

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

Ji Xu nodded, shifted himself off the doorframe, and walked toward the living room.

His walking posture was loose and relaxed, his steps slow and soft.

His entire person radiated an air of “not wanting to move,” walking the few steps from the kitchen door to the sofa as if sleepwalking.

He plopped down onto the sofa, curled his legs up to nestle inside, and pulled out his phone while leaning against a cushion.

Rong Du turned back around to continue mixing the dish, but as he lowered his head, his nose inadvertently caught a whiff of something.

He was still wearing that gray sleeveless top from last night, its sleeves hanging loosely.

Ji Xu’s pheromones had penetrated the fabric, his skin, and every single crevice of his clothing.

That sweet honey scent had started creeping onto him during sleep last night.

Having snuggled together all night long, Rong Du’s skin, hair, collar, and even the gaps between his fingers were completely filled with that warm, sweet aroma.

He lowered his head and raised his arm in front of his nose to sniff it.

The sweetness of honey and the lingering laundry detergent scent on his clothes mingled together, soft and gentle, as if his body had been lightly and tenderly coated in a layer of honey.

He couldn’t bear to shower.

He had realized this the moment he woke up in the morning.

Ji Xu was still curled up sleeping beside him, the honey scent filling the duvet to the brim, so he had lain there for an extra half hour or so, reluctant to move.

Later, when he got up to make breakfast, he originally intended to take a quick shower and change into clean clothes.

However, standing at the bathroom door, he hesitated for two seconds before turning back to the kitchen.

Might as well let it stay.

As he lowered his head to slice cucumbers, his nose would occasionally catch the sweet scent wafting from between his collar, a feeling akin to some secret, subtle mark.

Although he was merely a Beta who could not be controlled by pheromones nor release any to respond to anyone, when Ji Xu’s scent clung to him, it felt as though an invisible bond existed between them, like a thin thread tying the two together.

He lowered his eyes as he chopped vegetables, the corners of his mouth turned up.

The sourness of vinegar and the crispness of cucumber between his fingers, mixed with that trace of honey sweetness, made his mood throughout the entire morning thoroughly contented.

Rong Du thought to himself, if only he weren’t a Beta.

That thought fluttered across his mind like a feather, landing without making a sound.

He shook his head to banish those random thoughts from his brain, though his hands didn’t stop their work.

He carried the prepared smashed cucumber to the table, then uncovered the pot lid to stir the porridge.

The rice grains had already bloomed, gleaming with a soft luster.

He dished out two bowls—one floating with rice oil on the surface, the other slightly thinner.

Carrying his thinner bowl, he sat down at the dining table and called out toward the sofa: “Ah Xu, time to eat.”

Ji Xu responded, but didn’t get up right away.

He nestled on the sofa, his hair half-dry and draped loosely, the glow of the phone screen reflecting on his face.

He opened his message list, and that black avatar belonging to Chu Siran had jumped back to the top once again.

There was an unread message sent around eight o’clock last night, containing just a few brief words: Ji Xu, want to play games?

Ji Xu stared at that message for a few seconds, scrolling up through the chat history.

The last message he had sent yesterday afternoon was “Brother, I’m heading out now,” followed by Chu Siran’s reply of “Mhm,” and then this solitary invitation.

After waiting for about an hour without receiving a response, the other party hadn’t sent a second message.

A subtle sense of guilt welled up inside Ji Xu.

He had accepted so many red packets from the guy, yet when he took the initiative to ask him to play games, he hadn’t replied at all, showing zero reaction through the entire night and this morning—it was indeed a bit unfair.

Organizing his thoughts, his thumbs tapped out a paragraph on the screen: Sorry, brother! I went to the beach yesterday and got back too late, so I didn’t check my phone.

He followed it up with a sticker of a little character rubbing its eyes.

After a moment’s thought, he added another line: Plus my susceptibility period happened to hit, so I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t notice the messages.

After sending it out, he stared at the screen and waited for a few seconds.

Before he even had the chance to put his phone down, it vibrated.

Chu Siran replied extremely fast, as if he happened to be looking at his phone at that exact moment.

When the message popped up, Ji Xu even felt like the other person had been waiting for him for a long time over there.

It’s fine.

Just three words, but immediately followed by another red packet popping up as a bright red square in the chatbox: Get some good rest.

Looking at that red packet, Ji Xu’s thumb hovered above it for half a second before tapping it open.

This time it was 188 yuan—a familiar number, similar to last time.

He was accepting them more and more smoothly now, even able to calculate in his mind with a straight face: I’ve called him “brother” so many times, what’s wrong with taking a red packet?

Yet out loud—or rather, on screen—he still sweetly replied: Thank you, brother! followed by three spinning happy emojis.

At the same time, in another corner of the city, Chu Siran leaned against his chair back, staring at his phone screen.

Susceptibility period.

His gaze lingered on those words for two seconds, his thumb unconsciously sliding across the screen before sliding back.

Is Ji Xu an Omega or an Alpha?

The thought popped into his head like a small pebble tossed into calm water, sending out ripple after ripple.

He recalled the soft support heroes Ji Xu picked in the game with long golden hair and dresses.

He recalled his positioning in every match, obediently following behind him step by step.

He recalled his clear, laugh-filled voice calling out “brother” over and over again.

So soft, so sweet—no matter how one thought about it, he should be an Omega, right?

Chu Siran furrowed his brow, feeling that this judgment ought to be reasonable, yet a sliver of uncertainty sprouted in some corner of his heart.

He closed the chat interface, opened it again, and closed it once more.

Finally, he typed a line into the input box: Rest more during your susceptibility period, don’t play on your phone all the time.

Once typed out, he looked at it for two seconds, then deleted it word by word.

Too wordy.

He retyped two words: All right.

After sending it out, he felt it was inexplicable himself, but those two words had already been sent and couldn’t be retrieved.

Over on Ji Xu’s end, receiving the “All right” sent by Chu Siran, he didn’t quite know what it meant either, but assumed it was roughly similar to “Okay.”

He replied with a finger-heart emoji, then conveniently sent two messages about the delicious fish he ate at the hot pot restaurant today, adding a phrase like “I’ll play games with brother after my susceptibility period passes,” maintaining the warmth between gaming buddies.

Chu Siran occasionally replied with a “Mhm” or “Okay.”

Not many words, but every reply was very prompt.

Ji Xu felt that although this guy was cold and distant, he seemed to be waiting for his messages all the time.

“Ah Xu, time to eat,” Rong Du’s voice sounded again from the dining table, slightly louder than before, carrying a trace of urging.

Ji Xu lifted his head from the sofa, seeing that Rong Du was already seated at the table.

Two bowls of porridge, a plate of smashed cucumber, and a dish of garlic white pork were laid out on the table, with chopsticks, bowls, and spoons all set in place for him.

Rong Du was looking at him, a subtle expression in his eyes that was hard to pinpoint—like something flowing deep beneath a calm water surface—though on the outside it was merely a warm, smiling gaze.

Ji Xu put down his phone, stood up from the sofa, and walked over.

His hair was half-dry now, the tips curving slightly and swaying gently with his steps.

He sat down opposite Rong Du, picked up his porridge bowl, and took a sip.

The warm, velvety rice cream slid down his throat, comfortably warming his stomach.

He then picked up a piece of smashed cucumber with his chopsticks—crisp and fresh, the flavors of vinegar and garlic exploding on the tip of his tongue, incredibly appetizing.

“Delicious,” Ji Xu said indistinctly with a mouthful of porridge.

Rong Du sat opposite watching him eat, taking a sip from his own porridge bowl as well.

That honey scent on his body wafted out again as he lowered his head to pick up food.

Ji Xu’s nose twitched slightly, capturing the scent of his own pheromones drifting over from Rong Du’s body.

He froze for a moment, raising his head to look at Rong Du.

Rong Du was looking down, intently sipping his porridge, the tips of his ears bearing an unnatural tinge of red that he himself likely hadn’t noticed.

Ji Xu lowered his head to continue sipping his porridge, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly without saying a word, swallowing that mouthful of porridge down.

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