Chapter 33: Alpha with Pheromone Disorder (33)
“Qu…” Shui Que had just spoken a syllable when the other seized the chance to forcefully press forward, cutting off his words and swallowing them whole.
He had never been kissed so aggressively before.
Qu Jiuchao sucked on Shui Que’s tongue.
The long-forgotten sensation of a passionate kiss made Shui Que’s tongue clumsy again, unaccustomed to the heated rhythm. His cheeks flushed, and sweet saliva welled up uncontrollably.
All of it, without exception, got swept into Qu Jiuchao’s mouth, pulled and passed along their locked lips and tongues.
Moonlight streamed in, casting flickers of light and shadow.
His Adam’s apple slid upward, then dropped.
There were sounds of swallowing, wet smacking kisses, and faint sobs pushed out from between their lips when the kissing became too overwhelming.
The sound was no louder than a kitten’s mew.
Far more intense than anything online fans had speculated—the publicly poised and elegant Beta, heir to the Qu family, climbed onto a balcony in the dead of night, silently sneaking into his ex-boyfriend’s bedroom.
An Omega, using strength honed from extreme sports, easily pinned down a physically weak Alpha, forcefully licked his tongue, and even swept every drop of his saliva into his own mouth.
“Don’t run.”
“Breathe.”
He licked the corner of Shui Que’s lips. The chest beneath him rose and fell with heavy breaths.
“How have we kissed this many times and you still don’t know how to breathe properly?”
Qu Jiuchao seemed to particularly enjoy speaking between kisses. Maybe he believed that was the romantic murmur between lovers—but he never actually waited for Shui Que to reply. Whether Shui Que responded or not didn’t matter.
Because the next second, he would kiss even deeper.
Shui Que couldn’t escape at all. The hands cupping his face held on like iron clamps.
His teeth were forced open, and his tongue, red and soft, was ravaged over and over again. All he could do was grip Qu Jiuchao’s sleeve tightly.
His fingers turned white from the pressure, trembling.
A soft pop.
He had torn the cuff button clean off.
The round button rolled off the edge of the bed, disappearing into some unknown crevice, swallowed by the pitch-black night.
Only when the scent of juniper gin and oolong tea mingled densely in the air did Qu Jiuchao sit up. The strand of saliva connecting them glistened in the moonlight, ambiguous and suggestive, enough to make one’s heart race.
Dizzy and flushed from the kiss, the young boy’s anger surged. He raised his hand without thinking, only for it to be caught mid-air.
Qu Jiuchao held his slender wrist, raising an eyebrow. “About to slap me again?”
To climb in more easily, he hadn’t even worn his glasses. Without the cold, silver frames, his usually aloof face looked softer—or perhaps it was simply his attitude toward Shui Que, always gentler than toward others.
“Besides me, who else can put up with your bad temper?” Seeing Shui Que upset, he leaned down and pressed a soft, light kiss on his lips. Unfortunately, from the earlier intense kisses, Shui Que’s lips were already swollen.
“You’re always giving people the cold shoulder, threatening to break up at the slightest disagreement.”
That wasn’t exactly true.
Shui Que thought.
His temper wasn’t that bad.
And Qu Jiuchao wasn’t entirely right.
There were people who had been slapped by him and still shamelessly said they enjoyed it.
Thinking of that, Shui Que let out a sigh of relief. Luckily, he hadn’t actually slapped Qu Jiuchao—who knew if he’d end up becoming a pervert too.
He pursed his lips, carefully hiding the swollen part, just in case the other tried to sneak in more licks or bites.
Qu Jiuchao thought he was feeling guilty and continued his complaints.
“You didn’t answer my calls. And at the last party, you avoided me the whole time.” His eyes were half-lidded. As someone raised under strict expectations since birth, this might have been the first time he showed weakness to another person, and he was clearly inexperienced at it.
“If I did something wrong, you could’ve just told me—or hit me, cursed at me even. Why did you go straight to breaking up?”
“Is it because I didn’t carry you on my back when we were trying to find the path on the mountain last time?”
“Wasn’t it you who said you didn’t need me to carry you? Are all you Alphas two-faced like that?”
“Or are you just the special one?”
He rambled on with his own assumptions.
Shui Que sat up in bed, propping himself up against the headboard.
Suddenly, Qu Jiuchao reached out and pinched his cheek, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Or… is it that you’ve fallen for that Xie Xiangxun? Was that his scent on you before?”
He knew this Alpha in front of him was sensitive and easily upset, so Qu Jiuchao hadn’t used any real strength. Even so, Shui Que’s cheeks were so soft that they squished noticeably under his grip.
Shui Que frantically shook his head, eager to get away.
It wasn’t even clear which question he was denying.
Then Qu Jiuchao seemed to reach his own conclusion and abruptly let go. “Forget it. None of that is the point.”
Alphas and Omegas were naturally compatible, at least biologically. Compared to the others, he had already won in that department.
Unlike those nameless, clingy Alphas, he had been temporarily marked by Shui Que.
That alone gave Qu Jiuchao an unshakable sense of confidence.
Shui Que hadn’t trimmed his hair in a while, and it had grown noticeably longer. Qu Jiuchao raised his hand, rough with calluses, and gently brushed Shui Que’s hair behind his ear.
Then he asked in a cold voice, “Besides that Ke Xing guy we saw at the mountain resort, who else in Linhai bullied you?”
Shui Que froze.
Ke Xing was the ringleader of the bullying back at Linhai No. 2 High School.
He sifted through the plot memories System 77 had transmitted after he arrived in this world, listing all the names of those involved in the bullying. Qu Jiuchao bent his fingers and counted them one by one—there were seven or eight in total.
They were all from families with some money in Linhai City, used to throwing their weight around and ganging up to bully classmates.
With every name Shui Que mentioned, Qu Jiuchao’s expression darkened. His voice was icy, like each word came with a sharp chill between his teeth.
“Song Shui Que, are you stupid? How could you let them bully you?”
Even as he said this, he knew it wasn’t fair. With limbs as thin and fragile as Shui Que’s, he didn’t stand a chance in a fight.
The thought of Shui Que possibly being bullied and then hiding in a corner somewhere to cry made Qu Jiuchao clench the list of names so tightly the paper wrinkled and creased—like he was dismembering them across space and time with his bare hands.
He asked: “And yet when you slapped me, you didn’t hold back, did you?”
Shui Que guiltily fiddled with his fingers.
He couldn’t help it. That was just how the character had been written.
Qu Jiuchao sighed. “Alright, this isn’t your fault. It’s those scumbags…”
His voice was sharp enough to freeze.
He smoothed out the paper and folded it neatly, his expression softening. “Even though I personally don’t condone extrajudicial retaliation or eye-for-an-eye justice, considering how long ago it happened and how hard it would be to pursue legally, Lu Fengchi and I both agree that some extreme measures are necessary.”
These past few days, they had been investigating the person who posted online—and found it was Ke Xing. This also tied into the bullying incidents at Linhai No. 2 High School. Lu Fengchi had gone feral over it, like a rabid dog, but the Lu family’s reputation held him back from taking things too far.
Qu Jiuchao, on the other hand, had no such constraints. The Qu family had never fully cleaned up their image. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t be seen as over the line.
Those people still had to respectfully call him “Young Master Qu.”
But there was no need to let Shui Que know all this.
In the moonlight, the shadows blurred the shape of Qu Jiuchao’s brow and bone structure. Only his eyes, as they looked at Shui Que, were clearly visible.
Shui Que blinked slowly, a beat too late to catch up.
Qu Jiuchao pulled him into an embrace, leaned down, and tucked his face into Shui Que’s neck with practiced ease. The scent of gardenia and oolong tea calmed his nerves.
“It’s not your fault. It’s all in the past.”
“Shui Que, you’re really wonderful. You should be happy every day.”
He was so used to giving orders or mocking others from above that when it came to Shui Que, he always felt clumsy with words. He could only speak slowly, carefully pronouncing each syllable as if reading from a script, trying to comfort him.
It was good that the bullies would be punished, but Shui Que still couldn’t feel happy.
Because with every word Qu Jiuchao spoke, his storyline progress regressed by 1%.
If they kept talking, it’d fall below 80%.
Now he fully understood—these people saw him through rose-colored glasses, always finding some justification for everything he did. He was certain that in Qu Jiuchao’s mind, he had already transformed from a two-timing, irresponsible, marked-and-gone scumbag Alpha into a fragile, misunderstood, tragic white moonlight…..
He couldn’t take it anymore. Any longer, and he’d flunk the mission.
He had to get out of this world—urgently.
But there was still one last loose end. Once he helped Wei Qing with that favor, he’d leave this world for good.
Shui Que gritted his teeth and made up his mind.
System 77 consoled him:
[It’s okay, Host! Beginnings are always hard. Maybe I didn’t pick a bad enough character for you this time—he has a history of being bullied, so people naturally sympathize with him. But don’t worry, I’ve already lined up your next job!]
[In the next world, you’ll be a newlywed clinging to your husband’s coattails. You have a visual impairment and rely entirely on your husband—who’s the No.1 player—to give you clues and sacrifices to help you pass the game. And you treat him terribly: constant cold shoulder, emotional abuse, bossing him around every day.]
[You also use his status to bully other players. His followers can’t stand you, and those you bullied hold grudges. As soon as No.1 dies, you’ll enter a new instance and meet all those enemies and his old close friends who already hated your guts.]
[Your mission is just to drag everyone down. Nothing else. They’ll come for revenge on their own!]
[Your final ending is to be abandoned by all players for being too weak, left behind during a chase scene by the instance Boss, resulting in your death.]
Honestly, it sounded like a pretty chill job—as long as he showed up, the rest would take care of itself.
But as it kept explaining, System 77 grew guilty. Its screen glitched into static snow from sadness.
[I’m sorry, Host. My system role is poorly positioned… I rarely get jobs for upright characters…]
Shui Que asked:m [77, will you turn on the pain filter for me?]
System 77 replied firmly: [Absolutely! I’ve updated it with our department’s latest pain-blocking program—100% full suppression!]
Shui Que’s tone softened. He praised it: [Then you’re already amazing, 77.]
Because Qu Jiuchao was still in the room, he couldn’t pat the little round mech ball.
He didn’t even remember when Qu Jiuchao had left in the middle of the night. He had been too tired, and the other kept whispering softly by his ear, lulling him straight to sleep.
He vaguely remembered him mentioning that the Qu family’s medical lab was preparing to collaborate with a foreign lab to study pheromone disorder syndrome.
—
Fifth day of Song Qin’s susceptible period.
Shui Que got sick.
It started with him refusing to eat breakfast. By the time they realized what was wrong, he already had a high fever that wouldn’t go down.
At first, Song Qin thought he was just throwing a tantrum to get outside, so he forced him to eat a little in the morning.
By noon, when he knocked on the door, Shui Que had locked it from the inside and refused to come down for lunch.
Left with no choice, Song Qin opened the door with a spare key.
Shui Que had his back to him, sitting behind the coffee table, rubbing his face over and over again, his shoulders trembling.
…Was he crying?
Song Qin’s eyes narrowed. He rushed forward and knelt in front of the table. “Shui Que…”
Still so young, the little Alpha was sobbing uncontrollably, tears falling like broken pearls. His pale face was flushed at the corners of his eyes.
He had bitten his lip so hard there was a tooth mark, making him look especially pitiful and heart-wrenching.
Song Qin froze, unable to say a word.
He knelt down and hugged Shui Que tightly, apologizing again and again, “I’m sorry, Shui Que. I’m so sorry…”
[77, did I wipe off the chip crumbs on my lips?] Shui Que sniffled. [Quick, pause the movie. Song Qin’s here.]
System 77 hadn’t realized Song Qin had come in, and quickly paused Hachiko: A Dog’s Tale, too scared to make a sound after that slip-up.
Song Qin was nearly frightened into cardiac arrest by the burning heat radiating from the body in his arms. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he reached up to touch Shui Que’s forehead.
It was scorching.
So hot it didn’t even feel like a normal fever.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face turned even paler than that of an actual patient, and in a state of frantic panic, he rushed to contact Wei Qing.
He gently placed Shui Que on the bed and made him comfortable, then went to the kitchen to grab some ice to place on his forehead and help bring down the temperature. Throughout it all, his expression remained dark, and his nerves were so tightly wound that he’d lost the ability to form words. He just stared at Shui Que, unable to say anything.
Coalball sensed something was wrong and followed them upstairs, whimpering softly as it licked its little master’s hand that hung weakly off the bed.
Compared to the anxious man and dog, Shui Que seemed almost serene.
He knew very well—this was the same high fever he experienced every year around this time.
It was probably the body’s natural process of purging some sort of virus.
He was already used to it.
Back when he was still in the research facility, the researchers used to get overly nervous because he was a test subject of particular value. But later, once they realized it was a recurring pattern, they stopped caring.
He’d just endure it alone in the dormitory. After sweating through one night’s sleep, he would usually wake up fine the next day.
When Wei Qing arrived, he was also taken aback.
He had only told Shui Que to act like he was depressed from long-term confinement, maybe fake an illness if needed. He hadn’t expected Shui Que to actually fall ill.
He prescribed some fever-reducing medication.
Song Qin managed to get Shui Que to eat a small bowl of plain vegetable porridge.
The two Alphas stood watching as Shui Que took the medicine.
“Are you sure the medicine you gave him works?” Song Qin asked. “Why is he still in so much pain?”
Wei Qing was speechless. “He just took the meds not even two minutes ago. What do you expect—miracle pills that work instantly?”
Song Qin didn’t reply, clearly doubtful of Wei Qing’s medical qualifications.
Wei Qing: “…”
He couldn’t stand Song Qin’s avoidance any longer. That constant skirting around the truth, dodging reality.
So he furrowed his brows and questioned bluntly, “Who do you think caused this? Me? Or is it because you locked him up?”
His words were harsh, as if confinement had directly caused Shui Que’s illness, though there was no real evidence. These past few days, Song Qin had been more attentive to Shui Que’s meals and routine than ever—more disciplined than even during school days.
Under normal circumstances, faced with such baseless accusations, Song Qin would have demanded a detailed list of reasons—one, two, three, four, five—and then refuted them one by one. Or he would’ve simply ignored the other person entirely.
But now, Shui Que was still leaning weakly against the headboard, breath shallow, the corners of his eyes tinged red from the fever.
He looked like a flower losing its vitality, wilting rapidly even with the utmost care, unable to be brought back to life.
This time, Song Qin didn’t argue with Wei Qing at all.
Seeing this, Wei Qing pressed further, fanning the flames while the iron was hot. “That foreign lab tried a new drug recently. The second-phase clinical trials just ended, and the results are amazing. My suggestion is to send Shui Que there for observation and treatment.”
“And you,” he added, his tone serious. “Wei Song has contacted me multiple times. Isn’t it time you went back for a follow-up?”
The second half of his sentence was delivered as a direct statement, no room for negotiation.
Wei Song was Wei Qing’s uncle, a well-known psychiatrist in the country.
He had been the one overseeing Song Qin’s case for the past few years.
The room went completely still. You could hear a pin drop.
Shui Que let out a few coughs from time to time, and as if afraid of worrying others, he always added, “I’m okay.”
Fever and coughing always came together. He was already used to it.
Song Qin said, “…Okay.”
His gaze met Shui Que’s.
Even with Shui Que trying to soothe him, Song Qin hadn’t slept well during his susceptibility period. The dark circles under his eyes were evident, though usually hidden behind his glasses.
The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, making him look even more haggard than the fever-stricken Shui Que.
This whole mess had just been an excuse for him to vent during his susceptibility period.
It had all been torment aimed only at himself.
He had taken the wrong step from the very beginning.
Song Qin probably had a lot he wanted to say, but maybe because Wei Qing was present—or for some other reason— his lips parted and closed several times.
In the end, he only brushed aside the soft, drooping bangs from Shui Que’s forehead.
Gently, he placed a kiss between Shui Que’s brows.
Just a light touch—so soft, and gone in an instant.
He called his name. “Shui Que.”
Shui Que was burning up so badly he could barely keep his eyes open. Exhaustion dragged at him, but even so, he responded, “Mm…?”
But Song Qin said nothing more.
Why call his name if he wasn’t going to say anything?
Shui Que, despite his weakness, still had the energy to be a little annoyed.
Not talking? Fine—then he wouldn’t talk either…
And he drifted off to sleep.
Just moments ago, Shui Que had puffed up his cheeks; now, his face was flushed and hot. His curled lashes were damp and clumped into little tufts, drooping downward. Within seconds, he had fallen sound asleep.
“In S City, right?” Song Qin stared unblinkingly at Shui Que’s sleeping face.
Wei Qing replied, “Yes.”
After receiving confirmation, Song Qin fell silent for a moment before saying, “The Song family has an estate over there.”
“Never mind, let him choose for himself. Maybe he’d prefer to live in an apartment…”
“Once he’s cured, we’ll handle enrollment there. AS University… I’ll reach out to the alumni association.”
Outside the window, startled birds flew across a sky as blue as a wash of fresh paint. The trees they’d come from rustled and swayed in the breeze.
Song Qin continued discussing the arrangements for Shui Que’s treatment and settling down in S City—but notably said nothing about his own plans.
“What do…. you think?” he asked Wei Qing for his opinion.
Wei Qing was packing up his instruments, tucking the stethoscope back into the medical kit he carried. At the question, he raised his eyebrows. “Not bad.”
“The climate there is mild—do you think he’ll like it?”
He didn’t know.
＊
On the day Shui Que boarded the plane, it was the butler who sent him off. Song Qin didn’t go.
He had chosen to schedule a follow-up appointment that day instead.
He worried that if he went, he’d find an excuse to make Shui Que stay again.
The wind on the ground wasn’t strong, but the clouds in the sky moved swiftly.
Shui Que propped his head against the window, gazing at the passing scenery.
The weather was clear that day—no snow. He wore the white down jacket Song Qin had picked out for him.
He had removed the maroon scarf from his neck, revealing a pale slender neck and a sharp little chin. When he exhaled, the breath turned into a white mist, like the fogged-up airplane window.
He drew a smiling face on it, identical to the one on the shattered porcelain doll from that day.
Realizing after a moment that such behavior was rather childish for someone his age, he hastily rubbed away the foggy marks with his sleeve.
It made a loud squeaky sound.
A passing flight attendant kindly handed him a handkerchief.
“Thank you.”
Caught in the act, Shui Que pressed his lips together in mild embarrassment.
The flight attendant gave him a warm, understanding smile.
Then the announcement came on: “Dear passengers, this is your captain speaking. Welcome aboard EastStar Airlines. This flight will take you from Haicheng to S City. We wish you a pleasant journey.”
Sitting by the wing, he could hear the low humming of air currents as the plane took off. White doves on the grass below circled up into the air.
Technically, the seat across from his folding tray table should’ve been empty.
But someone came hurrying down the aisle, ignoring the flight attendant’s attempts to stop him, heading straight in Shui Que’s direction.
Shui Que rested his chin in his hand and tilted his head up—then froze.
What caught his eye most was the deep blue stud in the man’s ear, gleaming brightly.
Even in natural light, it was striking.
【World disengaging…】
System 77 was still broadcasting in his mind—
【Plot progress: 81%. Soft Rice points has reached its maximum, now converting…】
【System error. Reassessing plot progress, please wait patiently.】
【Second assessment complete. Plot progress: 100%. System review: Perfect mission completion.】
【Now displaying review from [Overseer 01]:】
【Character Consistency: S】
【Plot Fluidity: S】
【Narrative Logic: S】
【New Employee Potential: S】
【Monitor 01 Review: Exceptionally dedicated and hardworking—a model worker. Hope we can collaborate again in the future. Also: The system’s first evaluation was unfair and has been reported to headquarters.】
【77,】 Shui Que mumbled softly to the system, as if avoiding someone, 【is there a complaint process? Can I report that Overseer… He has a bad attitude. I don’t want to work with him again.】
【Overseer 01 additional note: I heard that :( 】
System 77 was inexplicably kicked out of the communication channel—then just as inexplicably dragged back in.
Still, before being kicked out, it had caught its host’s feedback. A qualified system would never question its host’s decisions.
And 77 was nothing if not qualified.
【Got it! 77 has submitted your complaint!】 it said. 【If there are no issues, you’ll be assigned a different Overseer next world.】
【Would you like to take a break? If you choose to rest now, you can take two days off. But if you skip the break and go straight into the next world, your vacation time will double—you’ll earn a whole week off next round!】 77 added excitedly. 【This will also earn extra points with the Newcomer of the Year Award Committee.】
Shui Que thought about it. Honestly, he hadn’t done much in the past few days, especially toward the end—he’d been sick in bed, letting Song Qin feed him…
It was more relaxing than a vacation.
Shui Que: 【Let’s just move to the next world then.】
【World disengaged successfully.】
Rumble—at the moment the plane took off—
Song Qin suddenly felt a pang in his chest. Ignoring the disapproving look from his psychologist, he unlocked his phone during the appointment.
Fingerprint recognition.
The lock screen was a photo taken during the New Year. Shui Que and York were having a snowball fight in the courtyard. Snow and sunlight mingled, white flurries splashing everywhere, their smiles dazzling.
He didn’t have a single photo together with Shui Que.
He feared that in the moment a picture was taken, his eyes would betray the forbidden emotions he tried so hard to hide.
“Ding.”
The notification tone chimed.
Song Qin’s pupils contracted.
It was a delayed message.
From Shui Que—
“You’re a coward.”
Too afraid to even say you love me.
Huge shoutout to @candycorns2 on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.