Chapter 7

If it weren’t for the fact that they were more than a meter apart, and that the silver-haired boy in front of her wore an innocent and harmless face, Chi Xun would have seriously suspected him of being a pervert.

“I’ll compensate you for the cake. But now, I have to go train first,” she said, feigning calm.

“Okay.”

The boy obediently nodded slightly.

Chi Xun turned around with a neutral expression but let out a long breath the moment she stepped out of the dining hall.

If she could look in the mirror right now, her face would surely be flushed bright red.

Had she been using too much detergent when washing her underwear lately?

Lowering her head, she tentatively reached to sniff the fabric over her chest, only to bump into something firm and solid, hard yet with a bit of softness and springiness.

Rubbing her forehead, she looked up to meet Song Yao’an’s fresh and clean smile, which contrasted sharply with his physique.

“What a coincidence, I was just looking for you.”

“Looking for me?”

“Yeah, there’s a duo choreography practice today, but I don’t really want to practice with them.”

The boy’s strong arms wrapped around Chi Xun. “The interactive part in the theme song hasn’t been decided yet. How about you and me team up?”

Ordinarily, Alphas have the highest body temperature, especially those at S-rank. Yet Song Yao’an, who identified as an Omega, surprisingly had a body temperature as high as an Alpha’s.

Chi Xun felt like she was being held tightly by a warm, large dog, her skin warming under his embrace. But strangely, their posture was just a casual bro hug; between two males, it hardly crossed any boundaries.

Seeing her hesitation, Song Yao’an smiled and leaned closer. “Or do you prefer to pair with Xie Sisheng? That’s fine too; we can agree on it in advance.”

That fiery, flamboyant peacock definitely didn’t want to team up with her.

Chi Xun sighed inwardly and admitted honestly, “Actually, I haven’t learned the duo part yet.”

“I’ll teach you. We can learn and practice together—no pressure.”

Song Yao’an turned sideways, lowering his head to close the height gap between them. As he spoke, he fixed his gaze on Chi Xun’s unusually pure eyes.

He had deliberately changed into a deep V-neck shirt today, with nothing hanging from his neck. Just by tilting her head slightly, Chi Xun could see his glands exposed without reservation.

He wanted to confirm once more.

If Chi Xun truly was an Alpha, he couldn’t possibly be unmoved by this Omega offering himself so openly, right?

Lost in thought, Chi Xun suddenly turned her head, staring absentmindedly at the side of his neck.

He heard the boy take a deep breath, his face tinged with a faint blush.

“Um…”

“Hmm?”

“Do you smell anything on me?” Chi Xun tilted his head, speaking softly.

Song Yao’an blinked slowly. “Smell? What do you mean?”

Immersed in his own thoughts, the boy lowered his head, pulling at the sleeve and hem of his T-shirt to sniff again. “Just some floral and fruity scents, like…”

Song Yao’an’s gaze fell on him. Seeing the oversized shirt stretched by the boy’s tug, it slowly revealed a slender waistline, delicate and thin like a fragile porcelain vase.

With each breath, the butterfly bones on his back subtly rose and fell.

There was no sign of an Alpha; instead, he looked like an Omega waiting to be marked by an Alpha.

At that moment, the boy’s clear eyes met his. “Lavender scent? Did you smell it?”

Song Yao’an fell silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“I didn’t smell it either, nor did I catch any coconut milk scent,” the boy went on to himself. “The coconut milk fragrance should be mild. Even if it’s there, how would it stick to my clothes or pants?”

Song Yao’an’s Adam’s apple bobbed unconsciously.

He had smelled it—the faint scent of coconut milk was already present when Chi Xun appeared. After all, that was his own pheromone. Even if it was faint, he could detect it.

The night before, he had used his pheromone as a clue to test Chi Xun’s true identity, thinking it wouldn’t matter if the scent got on him, even if it had been someone else… like Xie Sisheng or Si Heng.

They had known each other for many years and were well acquainted.

Even during their trainee days, living in a large group of over a hundred people, it was the same.

As teammates who were both male and Alpha, even if they sensed each other’s pheromones, there would be no physiological reaction.

But now, seeing Chi Xun naïvely inviting him to smell his clothes, unaware that he was soaked in the boy’s scent, Song Yao’an suddenly felt a strange itch inside.

After all, Chi Xun was also a boy.

…

After two days of intense training and specialized coaching by Zhuang Xiao, Chi Xun had almost mastered all the moves of “Aurora,” except for some duo choreography and her own small design that still needed refinement.

Moreover, the choice of partners wasn’t as simple as Song Yao’an made it sound—he couldn’t just pick anyone.

As Zhuang Xiao put it, the company considered maximizing benefits when selecting partners; who looked best together and who had the most on-screen chemistry were what truly mattered.

Chi Xun also remembered the official pairs in the novel.

Xie Sisheng and Si Heng were the fiery, tsundere childhood friends; Song Yao’an and his brother formed the forbidden twin duo; and the silver-haired boy she ran into that morning was paired with another dark-featured type, creating a duo with strong sexual tension due to their contrasting appearances.

As for her, her screen time in the music video would be the least, with almost no duo parts.

After all, she was the group’s back member, and any interaction risked seeming like she was leeching off others’ popularity.

“You shouldn’t be too discouraged. Just do your best,” Zhuang Xiao had comforted her, patting her shoulder. “Popularity now doesn’t determine the future.”

Chi Xun thought the same.

Because she didn’t want Chi Xun’s name to remain the group’s disgrace when she left in a month. She could voluntarily quit due to lack of skill or a sudden drop in popularity, but not because of scandals within the group.

So Chi Xun absorbed everything she could learn like a sponge.

Today, with Zhuang Xiao absent, she took the opportunity during positioning rehearsals to learn from Song Yao’an, sneaking some tips on expression management—winks, puckering lips to poke cheeks, using hand gestures to add ears. These slightly cheesy moves looked just right on his youthful face.

Chi Xun imitated him, forming a U-shape with both hands over her head.

Her hands were smaller, fingers shorter; the bunny ears she originally mimicked turned into a pair of small, round dog ears poking out from her golden-brown tousled hair.

Seeing the little dog shadow overlapping hers on the floor, Si Heng’s eyes briefly steadied.

Soon, Chi Xun felt a burning gaze on the back of her neck. She turned to meet the silver-haired boy’s eyes not far away.

He seemed to have been staring at her for a long time, but quickly lowered his head when she looked back.

… Was he trying to remind her about the cake?

Chi Xun touched her neck thoughtfully.

Before long, the dance studio’s door was pushed open forcefully, and someone entered briskly with a stern face.

“You’re two hours late,” Si Heng glanced at the time first.

Xie Sisheng looked toward Chi Xun, who was chatting and laughing with Song Yao’an nearby, his expression darkening further. “Couldn’t you have stayed in bed longer if you had a fever?”

Si Heng scrutinized the unnatural flush on his face but said nothing more.

Xie Sisheng had planned to confront Chi Xun at noon.

The night before, the boy had fallen asleep holding a turtle after playing with it, causing him to feel unbearably hot in the first half of the night. Later, the turtle fell off the bed when he turned over and stubbornly clung to Chi Xun, refusing to transform and crawl back through the window, lying on the floor all night.

Due to the alternating hot and cold, Xie Sisheng woke up feeling feverish and uncomfortable. Even after taking fever medicine, it didn’t help.

But by noon, he couldn’t find Chi Xun anywhere.

Growing more restless, Xie Sisheng felt as if countless torches were burning inside him, even his teeth aching, as if something uncontrollable was about to burst out.

Unable to find the source, he grabbed the boxing gloves from the corner, bit down on the Velcro, and vented his anger by pounding the black punching bag in his room.

Again and again.

The punching bag swung higher and higher with each hit, then slammed back, only to be struck fiercely by the boy.

“Instead of venting here, why not think about why you’re losing control?”

Footsteps approached, and a tall figure stood in front of the punching bag.

Xie Sisheng struck again through gritted teeth. “What do you mean?”

Si Heng tilted his head, easily dodging the bag, his eyes cold as he appraised him. “You didn’t notice your sensitive period arrived?”

“Sensitive period?” Xie Sisheng laughed bitterly. “You mean I’m in heat?”

Si Heng didn’t answer directly. The room was already filled with the other’s chaotic and pungent pheromones, like whiskey—sharp and throat-burning. Someone like Song Yao’an, who enjoyed alcohol, might tolerate it, but Si Heng avoided it.

He covered his nose with the back of his hand, furrowed his brow briefly, then relaxed.

“Control it as soon as possible. Don’t affect the other members.”

Twenty minutes later.

A doctor cautiously spoke over a video call with Xie Sisheng.

“Young master, you are indeed in your sensitive period. How are you feeling now?”

Xie Sisheng: “Hot, restless.”

“Have you encountered any triggers recently?”

Xie Sisheng clicked his tongue. “Who do I come into contact with besides dancing and recording songs every day? Don’t you know my five teammates?”

The doctor wiped sweat from his brow, nodding hastily. “There’s actually nothing serious. The sensitive period is normal, indicating an increased physiological need. But due to your profession, you can’t have an Omega partner to mutually soothe you this year. You’ll have to endure it and take inhibitors or blockers first.”

Xie Sisheng: “Hmph.”

All that talk, and he still had to take medicine.

“But don’t worry, as long as your heat cycles aren’t frequent, we can monitor it. I’ll keep it confidential from the old master…” The doctor’s words were cut off as the call was abruptly ended.

Soon after, a notification popped up indicating a transfer of 10,000 federation credits into his account.

… The young master really was—

Bad-tempered but rich.

Xie Sisheng chewed the inhibitor pill noisily, coldly watching the foolish turtle on the adjacent balcony trying to climb over the wall. He flicked it with his finger, and it fell back.

He didn’t know what it landed on, but it didn’t seem to hurt.

At least, Xie Sisheng didn’t feel it.

But he soon understood why—the second time the turtle climbed up, it wore a thin apricot-colored pair of shorts, the drawstring hooked on its tail.

“You’re using this as a cushion?”

Xie Sisheng frowned in disgust as he picked it up, but the shorts looked familiar. He recalled that the first night he knocked on Chi Xun’s door, the boy had lifted the hem of his loose T-shirt to reveal just such a pair underneath.

The semi-transparent fabric clung tightly at the thigh.

Now, the shorts were scrunched into a small bundle in his palm, surprisingly soft to the touch—smooth, as if it could slip away at any moment. They still carried a faint scent of green grapes after washing.

Perhaps the medicine was taking effect.

Xie Sisheng suddenly felt less feverish.