The fresh scent of magnolias mingled with the aroma of food. The meal Gu Lingzhou had brought over was extremely generous—the food container had a full five layers. But every time he opened a layer, Shi Yuxing’s mouth twitched. The abundance of dishes didn’t stop Shi Yuxing from thinking they didn’t look good.
His assessment: if this were a restaurant, it’d be out of business.
His tea-colored eyes flickered with reluctance. It wasn’t until he saw the very bottom layer that Shi Yuxing’s expression finally relaxed—while Gu Lingzhou frowned, seemingly very displeased with that exquisite plate of sweet and sour spare ribs.
Four dishes. Only one seemed to be sprinkled with golden light. Shi Yuxing could tell at a glance which one Gu Lingzhou hadn’t made. Mischief brewing in his heart, his chopsticks went straight for the beautifully presented sweet and sour spare ribs. Gu Lingzhou’s face turned even darker.
In the blink of an eye, half the plate of spare ribs was gone. Shi Yuxing hadn’t even touched the other dishes yet. Gu Lingzhou furrowed his brow and, without making a show of it, pushed the three dishes he’d personally cooked toward Shi Yuxing—like a little dog just wanting to catch someone’s attention. Shi Yuxing naturally noticed. His chopsticks reached out, about to land on those three dishes, and the expectant eyes beside him were practically about to fall out of their sockets—but Shi Yuxing swerved and picked up another piece of sweet and sour spare rib instead.
The floor vibrated. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Gu Lingzhou turned his head away, as if sulking. Shi Yuxing bit down on his chopsticks and smiled, leaning in to see what expression he was making now. Suddenly, Gu Lingzhou turned back to look at him, eyes wide open. Clearly there was something threatening to spill out, yet he still kept his mouth shut.
He didn’t speak; Shi Yuxing didn’t say anything either. By the time that plate of ribs was nearly picked clean, Gu Lingzhou finally spoke. “You don’t like these other dishes?”
Shi Yuxing paused mid-chew. “I just especially like these ribs today. What you made is good.” He forced his moving mouth into a tight line, afraid Gu Lingzhou would catch him snickering. As soon as he finished speaking, the frustration in Gu Lingzhou’s clear black-and-white eyes nearly spilled out.
“Let me try the others.” His slender, well-defined hand finally deigned to show favor to the other three dishes. The slightly over-fried chicken wings were Shi Yuxing’s first pick, followed by the rather unappealing-looking potato beef brisket. The potatoes were so mushy he couldn’t even pick them up with chopsticks, so he had to settle for the beef brisket instead.
Carrying Gu Lingzhou’s expectations, Shi Yuxing opened his mouth.
Disgusting…
The chicken wings weren’t even cooked through inside. He spat it out. Sure enough, the tender meat on the chopsticks was still bloody red. Shi Yuxing looked up at him, amused. “What, are we vampires now, drinking chicken blood?” Gu Lingzhou quickly grabbed a napkin, wrapped up the bite Shi Yuxing had spat out on the table, and threw it away. Then he took his chopsticks and moved the chicken wings back. “That one was an accident.”
Under his gaze, Shi Yuxing tried the beef brisket. That one was cooked, but—”Too salty.”
“Just eat the ribs, then.” Gu Lingzhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he moved to put away the three dishes he’d made. Shi Yuxing’s chopsticks reached over and visited the last box he’d overlooked. “Don’t rush. I haven’t tried the braised vegetables yet.”
Crisp and refreshing. Shi Yuxing nodded. “That one stays. Barely edible.” At those words, the low-pressure gloom around that little dog dispersed, and the shadow cast by his brow bones vanished. “This one’s okay?” Shi Yuxing tested the poison himself and took another bite. “I wouldn’t force myself to eat something bad. Hand it over.”
After the meal, Gu Lingzhou suddenly spoke up. “Actually, I didn’t make this one.” His gaze fell on the pile of bones.
Shi Yuxing glanced at him, sweeping all the bones into the trash. “I know.”
“You know?”
“Of course I know. Yours don’t look this good.” Shi Yuxing raised an eyebrow, his expression clearly saying, “Do you have no self-awareness or what?” His words were blunt and piercing. Gu Lingzhou packed up the food containers. “Is his cooking really that good?” Seeing him so resentful, Shi Yuxing felt thoroughly pleased and suspected this guy had deliberately put the sweet and sour spare ribs at the very bottom. Who said alphas didn’t have schemes?
Scheming dog in tow, he walked out with the neatly packed containers, taking slow steps. “I’m going.”
One step—full of anticipation.
“Mm.”
His pace slowed even more. Shi Yuxing thought he was about to do something again, but then he heard: “I’ll come back tonight.”
Two steps—reluctant to part.
“Okay.”
“I’m leaving.” He repeated himself.
Three steps—heart burning like fire.
Shi Yuxing could read the meaning behind this man’s footsteps. It wasn’t until his face was practically pressed against the door that he finally spoke: “Wait.”
The hand on the doorknob withdrew instantly. Gu Lingzhou was in front of him in a flash. “What is it?” Shi Yuxing blinked. “Actually, it’s nothing. It’s about ‘Chu Ke.’ I ran into An Bao today, and I feel like we need to go back to the Old Mansion and look around again for any clues. After all, that receipt was found behind your photo album.”
“I’ll go with you.” Almost without hesitation, Gu Lingzhou’s voice carried determination. Shi Yuxing had been thinking the same thing and nodded directly. “Good.”
The topic ended. Gu Lingzhou stood frozen in place, like a stuck frame of film, staring straight at him. The tenderness and pitifulness in his eyes made Shi Yuxing’s throat tighten.
“Did you have something else?” Shi Yuxing asked.
Gu Lingzhou’s thin lips parted slightly, about to speak, when a ringing interrupted his thoughts. Shi Yuxing looked curious, and Gu Lingzhou obligingly put it on speaker.
“General, we’re packing up your belongings. Shall we send them to the original address?” The sound of tearing tape came from the other end of the line—clearly someone in the middle of packing something. Gu Lingzhou replied, “No, I’ll give you a new address.” His eyes shifted from the screen back to Shi Yuxing. He was going to have his things reclaim this home. He absolutely could not let those two squeeze him out of Shi Yuxing’s heart. He had to make sure everyone knew that the master of this house could only be him—Gu Lingzhou.
Shi Yuxing wasn’t surprised he’d say that. After all, Gu Lingzhou had already stuffed his clothes into Shi Yuxing’s wardrobe, using the “one of mine, one of yours” method.
“General, do you still want the cup on your desk? Since it’s fragile, it needs to be packed separately.” The packer on the other end confirmed again.
Shi Yuxing assumed that for people like them who had to travel to other planets frequently, things like that were disposable—of course they wouldn’t want it. But he was wrong. Gu Lingzhou hummed in acknowledgment, his steady voice instructing: “Please wrap it carefully for me. Don’t let it get chipped.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll use multiple layers of bubble wrap. I guarantee it’ll arrive in your hands without a single scratch. It might just take a little longer to get to you.”
“Mm. Thank you for your trouble.”
The call ended. Shi Yuxing pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the computer screen with both eyes. “What cup is so precious?” It wouldn’t be from some lover, would it?
Gu Lingzhou lifted the food container. “The cup you used.”
Turns out the “lover” was himself. Shi Yuxing caught a different scent in the air, confusion rising in his mind. A cup he’d used? When? How come he didn’t know? The bewilderment in his gaze made Gu Lingzhou curl his lips upward. “Get back to work. I’m heading back.”
“It’s not that bus—” The words stopped abruptly. Heavy, urgent footsteps echoed from the corridor. Shi Yuxing’s heart raced. Damn it. He’d triggered a forbidden word. A gut feeling told him something was about to come knocking.
Sure enough, those footsteps were heading straight for him. In the span of a breath, the knocking was practically right at his doorstep.
“Knock knock knock—Dr. Shi, are you in?” The voice outside sounded familiar. Shi Yuxing was still trying to place it when he glanced at the clock on the wall—one o’clock. It wasn’t even afternoon consultation hours yet. He’d overlooked Gu Lingzhou standing by the door, food container in hand, his face a dark line. Gu Lingzhou recognized the voice.
“Knock knock knock—” The door rang again. “Dr. Shi, I’m coming in.”
The person outside said this, but his hand was a beat too slow. Gu Lingzhou opened the door, revealing a sharp and stern face: “Wen Lan. What are you doing here?”
Only then did Shi Yuxing get a clear look at who was standing outside. Wen Lan was still in his military uniform, still wearing that gentle, refined expression, smiling. “General, what are you doing here too?”
“Delivering food.” Two cold words. An ice wall suddenly rose between the two men. Gu Lingzhou didn’t want to let him in, and Wen Lan stood his ground with no intention of moving aside. They remained deadlocked at the doorway, Wen Lan’s smile never fading as he looked at Shi Yuxing at the desk. “Dr. Shi, I’m here for a consultation. Could you ask the General to let me in?” With that, he waved the form in his hand, invoking the “military priority” privilege—no wonder he could ignore Shi Yuxing’s working hours.
Shi Yuxing still hadn’t figured out what exactly was going on between these two. Da Ling’s words earlier had been vague. Although Gu Lingzhou had pledged his loyalty, too many questions remained, and his curiosity about Wen Lan had only deepened. Seeing Shi Yuxing remain silent made Gu Lingzhou at the door turn his head as well. Shi Yuxing neither agreed nor refused. The man blocking the door let out a scoff: “He’s not seeing you. Get out.”
“Let him in.” Shi Yuxing lifted his gaze, cutting off Gu Lingzhou’s bluster. Since this was a patient coming to see him, he naturally wouldn’t turn him away. Besides, one patient was five yuan.
Wen Lan’s smile widened. “Please step aside, General. I really do have business.”
Reluctantly, Gu Lingzhou moved to the side and stood in the corner by the door, observing Wen Lan’s every move.
Shi Yuxing took the deputy general’s form and scanned it, then sucked in a breath. “I remember you’re a beta. Why are you booking the Glandular Department?”
The red mole at the corner of his eye looked impossibly alluring. Those eyes fixed on Shi Yuxing’s face, making him unconsciously tense up. Why is he looking at me like that? Like he’s sizing up prey.
“Mr. Wen, if you’re here to cause trouble, please see yourself out.”
Wen Lan flicked his loose hair back. “I don’t know where you heard that I’m a beta, but the truth is, I’m an alpha.” At those words, Shi Yuxing’s pupils contracted sharply. The look of surprise froze on his face.
Al—alpha? Wen Lan is an alpha? His gaze shot toward Gu Lingzhou not far away, seeking confirmation. Gu Lingzhou pressed his lips together and gave him a serious nod.
Receiving confirmation, Shi Yuxing straightened his back and blinked. Was there such a short alpha? He was a beta and he was about the same height.
At the same time, he found Gu Lingzhou’s words even more convincing—it really did seem like nothing was going on with Wen Lan. The repulsion between alphas was obvious. Forget dating—sometimes just being in the same space with even a hint of pheromone leakage could spark a fight.
“However, I’m not an alpha in the true sense. To be precise, I don’t have a gland anymore—pretty much the same as those betas without glands who can’t release pheromones.” With that, Wen Lan turned around, facing away from Shi Yuxing as he lifted his shoulder-length hair, revealing skin marred by ugly, hatred-filled scars.
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