Chapter 22

Lu Congqian frowned. By rights, a married couple would both remember each other’s susceptible periods and avoid being apart during those days.
This Omega’s heart was really that big—going abroad at a time like this?
Truly, the grudges of the wealthy ran deep.
Of course, he didn’t dare pry. Cautiously, he asked, “Do you happen to know what your son’s Omega’s pheromones smell like?”
Because Duan Baisui had just injected two powerful inhibitors, Lu Congqian didn’t dare give him any more medicine—not even a tranquilizer. He could only use an inhaled spray to ease his acute shortness of breath and then lower his temperature with physical cooling.
Duan Yan called Zuo Nian and, after asking about his pheromones, did his best to comfort the boy, telling him it wasn’t anything serious and he shouldn’t worry.
Once he hung up, he sent an assistant out to buy large quantities of green‑grape soft candy, along with a perfume that smelled the same.
“Please remember,” Lu Congqian told Aunt Liu, “don’t open the windows, and don’t let Young Master Duan leave this bedroom. He’s a top‑tier Alpha. If his pheromones leak out, every Alpha and Omega in the vicinity will be in trouble.”
Aunt Liu had never seen a case this severe.
She only knew that in the past, both Duan Yan and Duan Baisui had always been fine after an injection during their susceptible periods. They could move freely around the house, just went out less and ate a little worse. How had it turned into this, all of a sudden?
“Then… then what about his meals?” she asked nervously.
“I’ve left him enough nutritional supplements for three days. You don’t have to worry about his food.”
Aunt Liu nodded over and over. “All right, all right.”
Once he had seen Dr. Lu out, Duan Yan called Xu Yi to give him a brief account of their son’s condition, telling him not to worry.
But Xu Yi could hardly put his mind at ease.
“Alex has always refused to mark Nian‑nian. I thought it was because he hadn’t truly accepted him yet,” he sighed. “But I never expected that in his susceptible period he’d yearn for Nian‑nian’s pheromones that much. That’s obviously love, and he doesn’t realize it at all. Alex is so, so dense when it comes to feelings—he’s tormenting himself and his lover both.”
Irritated, Duan Yan dragged on his cigarette. “In this day and age he’s still insisting on some kind of platonic marriage—I really did not see that coming.”
When Duan Baisui woke up, the air was saturated with the scent of green‑grape candy.
The bedroom was dark; the curtains had been pulled tightly shut so not a sliver of light could seep in.
He had no idea what time it was, or whether it was day or night.
The fresh, sweet smell cocooning him helped settle him somewhat.
It was similar to Zuo Nian’s scent, but to him, it still wasn’t as fragrant. It wasn’t as sweet.
Propping himself up with effort, he sat up and reached over to switch on the bedside lamp.
The dim light fell over the nightstand, where someone had lined up two big boxes of nutritional supplements and a canister of soothing spray.
Sitting against the headboard, he stared blankly for a while, then reached under his pillow and fumbled out his phone.
His WeChat screen was flooded with unread messages.
There were ones from the doctor, from Duan Yan and Xu Yi, and… from Zuo Nian.
Rubbing at his throbbing temples, Duan Baisui went through them one by one.
Duan Yan and Xu Yi were simply expressing concern, telling him to call them back once he woke up.
The doctor had sent a long list of precautions, reminding him not to leave the house for the next three days and, above all, not to inject any more high‑dose inhibitors.
Last were the voice messages from Zuo Nian.
Zuo Nian had sent several very long recordings, his voice soft and full of guilty self‑blame. “Gege, Nian‑nian just asked a doctor. He said at a time like this, an Omega is supposed to be by your side. But Nian‑nian’s not there. Nian‑nian really is a dummy, I can’t ever help you, I just keep making things harder for you.”
The moment he mentioned a doctor, Duan Baisui remembered their video call last night and the “new friend” Zuo Nian had said he’d met.
He didn’t know if the doctor he was talking about now was that same man.
If it was, did that mean they’d added each other on WeChat?
Did they chat often?
By then, the app had already moved on to the next voice clip. “Gege, you have to… drink more water and use fewer inhibitors. Dr. Jin said that not completing the mark is bad for both of us. It’s all Nian‑nian’s fault. Nian‑nian isn’t a qualified Omega. But Nian‑nian will get better soon and come back very soon.”
“Gege, I’m sorry… Nian‑nian really misses you.”
The distrust and resentment that had been piling up inside Duan Baisui crumbled at once under that soft little *Nian‑nian really misses you*.
He tapped on Zuo Nian’s avatar and let out a low sigh. “Idiot. How can you talk about another man in front of an Alpha in his susceptible period?”
His phone vibrated gently. The chat window showed: *You patted Zuo Nian.*
Ah, he’d forgotten that WeChat even had that feature now.
Almost immediately, a reply popped up.
Zuo Nian: *Gege, you’re awake? Are you okay?*
Glancing at the time—it was nine in the morning in China—he realized it was already evening where Zuo Nian was.
Duan Baisui: *I’m all right.*
At the top of the chat, the words *The other side is typing…* hovered for a long time.
He waited patiently. At last, a message came through.
Zuo Nian: *Can I see you?*
*Can I see you?*
Just that one short sentence sent Duan Baisui’s emotions surging again.
He climbed out of bed and went to the sink. The mirror reflected an unshaven, haggard face—honestly not a very presentable sight.
He hurriedly shaved and combed some product through his hair until he looked marginally decent.
The bedroom was a disaster zone, clothes strewn across the bed and floor—not exactly something he wanted Zuo Nian to see. So he drew back the curtains and sat down in the armchair by the floor‑to‑ceiling window, his back to the light. Only then did he type back two words: *You can.*
Ten minutes had already passed since Zuo Nian’s message.
He wasn’t sure if he’d still be by his phone.
Phone in one hand, jaw propped in the other, he waited for a reply.
Only a minute ticked by, but it felt endlessly long.
Had Zuo Nian gone to shower?
Or had he already gone to sleep?
Just as his thoughts started to wander, a video request popped up at the top of the screen.
Duan Baisui accepted it with deliberate composure, trying to keep his expression as calm as possible.
Zuo Nian was still wearing the same SpongeBob pajamas as yesterday, cradling Xiao Sui in his arms, his face full of worry.
They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Zuo Nian said, “Gege, you’ve lost weight…”
His big dark eyes were clear and shining, his gaze painfully earnest.
Duan Baisui gave a small laugh. “It’s not that serious.”
“It is…” Zuo Nian said, heart aching. “Aunt Liu said you haven’t been able to eat lately, that you can only drink nutritional supplements. Is that really enough?”
“It is,” Duan Baisui answered gently.
“Nian‑nian should’ve been at home. If Nian‑nian had been here, I could’ve taken care of you…”
If Zuo Nian had really been here, things *would* have been much easier, Duan Baisui thought—but Zuo Nian himself would have suffered for it.
From the bottom of his heart, he still didn’t really want Zuo Nian to see him in that state.
In his Omega’s eyes, he wanted to be perfect—not a man stripped of reason and reduced to a mess by instinct.
“I’m fine. I don’t need taking care of. Just look after yourself,” he said.
Zuo Nian blinked. “But… but Dr. Jin said you should need me. He said I can help you now.”
“Dr. Jin is that new friend you said you met, right?” Duan Baisui asked suddenly.
Zuo Nian nodded. “Mm‑hmm.”
“He’s very professional. Dad says he’s an amazing doctor. If I have any questions, I can always ask him.”
Dr. Jin. Dr. Jin again.
That man he’d never met, yet who kept tumbling out of Zuo Nian’s mouth.
The one Zuo Nian praised to the skies—of every ten sentences, eight were about him.
It felt as if the worshipful gaze that had once been directed at him had quietly shifted to that doctor instead.
“Have you been seeing Dr. Jin a lot lately?” Duan Baisui asked, half‑smiling.
“Mm.” Zuo Nian nodded honestly. “Every day. Dr. Jin answers all my questions. He tells me all the important things about taking care of an Alpha.”
“Everyone’s situation is different. What a doctor says isn’t always right,” Duan Baisui said coolly. “You don’t have to take his word as gospel, and I don’t need anyone’s help.”
Zuo Nian froze, then answered in a small, disappointed voice, “Oh.”
His lashes drooped, shadows hiding his eyes. He obviously wasn’t happy.
Silence stretched between them. Duan Baisui couldn’t figure out why he’d suddenly soured like that. Was it just because he hadn’t echoed the doctor’s opinions?
The oppressive quiet on both ends grew more and more awkward. At last, Zuo Nian broke it. “Gege, Nian‑nian should go shower. I’ll hang up, okay?”
Reluctant as he was, Duan Baisui knew he shouldn’t keep him up. “Go ahead.”
Wiggling his fingers at the camera, Zuo Nian said, “Bye‑bye, Gege.”
“Mm.”
The screen went dark again.
Duan Baisui tossed his phone onto the crystal coffee table and stared blankly out at the snow.
Childish as it was, he couldn’t help thinking: if Zuo Nian stayed away any longer, would that Dr. Jin end up taking his place in Zuo Nian’s heart?
How annoying.
The suburban night was very, very quiet.