He fought back tears as he left the hospital. Passing a convenience store, he saw bottles of alcohol on the shelves, some with English labels, others with Russian—he couldn’t understand them. He only felt that the brown bottles looked potent, carrying a sense of unfamiliar indulgence. He reached out, picked up the cheapest one, paid, and for the first time in his life, drank to drown his sorrows. He drank until his cheeks were flushed crimson, his steps unsteady. That’s when he ran into Zhou Yan Zhi, who happened to be driving by. 

Zhou Yan Zhi was his benefactor, having supported him since he was seven, for eleven years until his senior year of high school. They rarely met during that time. 

The car window slowly rolled down, the streetlights illuminating Zhou Yan Zhi’s flawlessly handsome face. 

He blankly called out, “Sir,” but before he could finish, he stumbled backward. 

Perhaps worried about him being drunk and in danger, Zhou Yan Zhi kindly took him home. However, Wen Song’s wildly overflowing pheromones threw everything into chaos. 

Late at night, a tipsy Wen Song knelt on the sofa, disheveled, his whole body flushed red, crying and begging Zhou Yan Zhi not to leave. He hugged Zhou Yan Zhi, pushing away his hands, then lunged forward, tearing off the inhibitor patch at the nape of Zhou Yan Zhi’s neck. In an instant, a chaotic blend of pheromones assaulted all their senses, and both lost control. 

He was carried into the bedroom by Zhou Yan Zhi. Just as things were about to happen, Zhou Yan Zhi regained some clarity and tried to leave, but Wen Song grabbed his shoulder, clinging to him like a drowning man to a life raft. Wen Song forgot what happened afterward. When he woke up, his head throbbed, only vaguely remembering Zhou Yan Zhi taking off his glasses, grasping his calf, and saying, “Sorry,” before entering him. 

Zhou Yan Zhi’s voice was always low and restrained; even his apology sounded like a temptation. 

Actually, Wen Song couldn’t remember the specifics, just a few blurry images, and his face started to burn. 

“Is it hot in here?” 

Wen Song only came to his senses after a moment. Looking up, he met Zhou Yan Zhi’s gaze. 

He was so embarrassed he couldn’t speak. 

Zhou Yan Zhi was used to his sudden freezes and didn’t press him, only saying, “Wait in the living room for a while.” 

Wen Song nodded. Before leaving, he said, “Sir, your sleeve.” 

His voice was soft, and Zhou Yan Zhi didn’t hear clearly. He was about to lean closer when Wen Song suddenly reached out. Zhou Yan Zhi stopped. 

Wen Song’s hands were different from his face. Though slender, the skin on his hands was rough, with calluses on his palms, like the hands of someone who worked hard every day. Despite the roughness, his nails were neatly trimmed and rounded, his knuckles slightly bent, with a hint of timidity as he reached towards Zhou Yan Zhi’s arm. 

He carefully folded the cuff of Zhou Yan Zhi’s left sleeve that had slipped down. 

His fingertips almost touched Zhou Yan Zhi’s skin, but Wen Song quickly withdrew his hand, putting it in his pocket, and hurried to the living room. 

He huddled in a corner of the sofa where Zhou Yan Zhi couldn’t see him, hugging a pillow, filled with infinite regret, beginning his one hundred and eighth self-criticism: Wen Song, Wen Song, stop all these fantasies! 

You already don’t have a good impression with Sir, and you dare to fantasize about that kind of thing in front of him? If Sir finds out, he’ll definitely kick you out! 

It’s wishful thinking, incorrigible! 

Wen Song self-reproached, hugging the pillow tightly, but the surroundings were too peaceful, accompanied by the sounds of cooking from the kitchen, his thoughts drifted again. 

After a long time, he vaguely heard voices. 

“Mr. Zhou, shall I wake up Mr. Song?” 

It was the housekeeper’s voice. 

“No need.” 

Before Wen Song could realize where the low voice came from, he sensed the familiar alpha pheromones, like a summer breeze or winter sunshine, just right, gently seeping into his skin and blood. He felt an indescribable comfort. 

His pregnancy discomfort was gradually alleviated. 

He tilted his head, wanting more, but he fell limply to the side. Luckily, someone supported his shoulder. 

Wen Song slowly opened his eyes and saw Zhou Yan Zhi. 

He thought he was still dreaming. 

Zhou Yan Zhi had somehow removed his tie and loosened one button of his collar. 

Wen Song froze again, staring blankly at him. 

“Feeling unwell?” Zhou Yan Zhi asked. 

Wen Song was about to speak when Zhou Yan Zhi said, “Your heat cycle is coming, isn’t it?” 

After that night, Zhou Yan Zhi made a temporary mark on Wen Song’s neck. Last month, Wen Song had safely passed his heat cycle, but nothing lasts forever. This month’s heat cycle hadn’t started yet, but the temporary mark had already faded, so Wen Song was sleepy, clingy, and in low spirits, his old problems returning. 

“Is it dizziness or sleepiness?” Zhou Yan Zhi asked again. 

Hearing “heat cycle,” Wen Song felt like he’d been accused of a crime. He didn’t dare look at Zhou Yan Zhi’s expression, suddenly lowering his head, guiltily saying, “Neither, Sir, don’t worry about me. It’s just a normal heat cycle. I’ve already prepared strong inhibitors and painkillers. It’s alright.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi lowered his eyes, remaining silent. 

Afraid he’d misunderstand, Wen Song looked up and seriously emphasized, “I can handle it myself!” 

Wen Song felt independent, not dependent, not causing Zhou Yan Zhi any trouble, which made him slightly happy. 

He wondered if he could salvage some of his good impression. He looked at Zhou Yan Zhi expectantly, but Zhou Yan Zhi’s expression was more serious than before, his hand on his shoulder slowly withdrawing. 

Wen Song’s heart tightened. His mind raced for a few seconds, and he added, “This illness isn’t hereditary, Sir, don’t worry.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi’s expression became even more serious. 

Wen Song’s heart sank. Had he said something wrong again? 

Dusk settled outside, the yellowish sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on Zhou Yan Zhi’s face, making his deep eyes look less sharp and more gentle. He looked down at Wen Song, and after a long silence, reached out to him. 

“Let’s eat first, we’ll talk later.” 

This ended the “heat cycle” topic. 

Wen Song blankly took Zhou Yan Zhi’s hand, using it to stand up. The two of them suddenly drew closer, Wen Song’s heart stopped, and he quickly moved to the side, then like a puppy with its tail between its legs, he dejectedly followed Zhou Yan Zhi to the dining table. 

“Busy at school lately?” Zhou Yan Zhi ladled soup for him. 

“Not really, there aren’t many classes left. I’m going to intern at a company in a few days.” Wen Song took the soup bowl and dared to sit down. 

“How long is the internship?” 

“Two months.” 

“What are your plans after the internship?” 

“I’ve already asked around. There are several software companies in the Science and Technology City that are always recruiting short-term developers. After Jin Yu’s internship ends, I’ll go there for another month.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi frowned, “Why are you in such a hurry to work? Aren’t you considering going to graduate school or studying abroad?” 

Wen Song couldn’t say he wanted to stay by Zhou Yan Zhi’s side, so he lied, “My GPA isn’t high enough to get into grad school.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi’s chopsticks paused mid-air. Wen Song thought he believed him and added, “I haven’t graduated yet, and I’m pregnant now…it’s hard to sign a formal contract, so I’ll just intern for a while and then decide after the baby is born.” 

He cautiously asked, “Sir, do you have any suggestions?” 

“No, you decide yourself.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi’s voice was cold and distant again. 

Wen Song felt a little downcast. Actually, his GPA was very high, and his resume was quite impressive. He didn’t want to lie; he desperately hoped Zhou Yan Zhi knew he was a high-achieving student, a child worthy of support, but he had too many unspoken difficulties. 

“Which company?” Zhou Yan Zhi asked again. 

Wen Song put away his low spirits and quickly replied, “Jin Yu Technology, have you heard of it, Sir?” 

Zhou Yan Zhi didn’t answer, picking up his phone to text someone. 

Afraid of disturbing him, Wen Song remained silent. 

When Zhou Yan Zhi looked up again, he saw Wen Song holding a spoon, putting golden-yellow tofu into his mouth. The next second, he widened his eyes in surprise, muttering, “So delicious!” 

“Is it that good?” 

Wen Song shyly nodded, afraid Zhou Yan Zhi would think he was too greedy and didn’t dare to use his chopsticks again. But Zhou Yan Zhi gave him another large spoonful of shrimp and tofu, putting it in his bowl. Wen Song was surprised and thanked him. Then, he had a clever idea, adding two pieces of okra to it, and then eating it with rice, his cheeks puffed out, his eyes curved, eating contentedly. 

“Sir, you’re amazing.” 

His voice was soft, and his praise was sincere. 

Only when the person eating is this satisfied can the person cooking feel their hard work wasn’t in vain. 

Zhou Yan Zhi looked at his cheeks for a long time without moving his eyes, until Wen Song asked, “Sir, why aren’t you eating?” 

Zhou Yan Zhi then started to eat. 

Near the end of dinner, Zhou Yan Zhi suddenly said, “It’s best not to go to Jin Yu Technology.” 

“Ah?” Wen Song was stunned, “Why?” 

“They’re embroiled in lawsuits and have a bad reputation.” 

“My classmate recommended it to me. I thought…I should have investigated more thoroughly.” Wen Song was quite self-blaming. 

“Have you signed a contract?” 

“Not yet, I’m going to sign on Monday.” 

“Tell them you’re not going.” 

Wen Song obediently nodded, “Okay.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi seemingly casually asked, “If not Jin Yu, where are you planning to go?” 

Wen Song racked his brains. 

“Science and Technology City is too far. You can find something closer. There are many tech companies on Changrong Avenue. My company also—” 

Wen Song didn’t notice Zhou Yan Zhi’s unfinished sentence and quickly said, “Then I’ll go to a software company. One HR has been asking if I can start early, and now I have the time.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi glanced at him, said nothing, and only asked, “What’s the name?” 

“Peisheng Software.” 

Zhou Yan Zhi pondered for a moment, “Good, I’ll have the driver pick you up and drop you off every day.” 

Wen Song quickly waved his hands, “No need, Sir, I can take the subway. I checked, it only takes eleven stops from here to Science and Technology City.” 

“It’s very crowded during rush hour.” 

“I can go to work earlier or leave later. Really, no need to trouble the driver.” 

Wen Song seemed indecisive, but most of the time, Zhou Yan Zhi couldn’t refuse him, and the two of them were at an impasse again. In the end, Zhou Yan Zhi conceded, “Be careful on the road. If you’re tired or unwell, call me immediately.”