Chapter 29: He Still Really Hates Alphas

Before Ji Laili could notice, Shen Yu withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened, tucking his bloodstained fingertips into his sleeve and clenching them tightly.

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt again?”

Meeting Ji Laili’s concerned gaze, Shen Yu’s long eyelashes trembled slightly. He awkwardly averted his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Shen Yu felt like a butterfly that had fallen into a dream, immersed in its beauty, subconsciously ignoring reality. When he suddenly came to his senses, he found himself questioning everything.

He was certain he hated Alphas, yet Ji Laili’s existence seemed to be telling him: You don’t actually hate them that much.

Shen Yu pressed his lips together.

His conviction wavered, and his mind was in turmoil. Instinctively, he wanted to avoid the culprit and be alone for a while.

But his reaction only made Ji Laili even more worried. He asked him multiple times what was wrong, yet Shen Yu couldn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say, and as his emotions surged—

Tears fell again.

Stiffly, Shen Yu felt the warm liquid slide uncontrollably down his cheeks.

Ji Laili was stunned. He had no idea why Shen Yu had suddenly started crying.

Then again, the little butterfly was still in his susceptible period, so maybe it wasn’t that sudden. Ji Laili sighed, looking at him helplessly.

“Alright, Senior, I won’t ask anymore. Don’t cry, okay?”

【Male lead’s corruption value +3】
【Male lead’s corruption value -3】
【Male lead’s corruption value +2】
【Male lead’s corruption value -4】

The notifications fluctuated in his mind. The cold and aloof beauty, now corrupted, was sitting stiffly like a statue, tears streaming down his face.

Ji Laili found it amusing. He held back his laughter with great effort, afraid that if Shen Yu noticed his smile, it would make things worse.

Yet a trace of amusement still slipped through the corners of his eyes and lips.

Shen Yu’s ears grew hot.

His falling tears seemed to burn even more.

Alphas were strange. They always spoke in a way that felt like they were coaxing a small child. Logically, Shen Yu should have found this patronizing and annoying.

Yet, somehow, the warmth in Ji Laili’s words stirred something in him, making him stop crying.

This isn’t right.

Shen Yu sensed another kind of danger.

He clenched his fingers tightly. “I’m fine. You should go back.”

Ji Laili gave him a glance. “You really do look better now. Alright, Senior, rest well. And remember what I said—if you’re feeling unwell, go to the medical bay.”

There was no point in enduring alone until you collapsed.

Seeing Shen Yu absentmindedly nod, Ji Laili couldn’t help but take another look at him.

Ah.

The cold, corrupted, enigmatic Shen Yu, with his pale, ice-cold face tilted upward, carried an innate arrogance in his every movement. Yet at the same time, his face was streaked with tears, his eyes glistening.

How interesting.

Ji Laili thought to himself: I must be terrible.

Even as he admitted this, he still stole a few more glances, unintentionally breaking into a chuckle.

Shen Yu, watching Ji Laili suddenly smile with bright, curved eyes, was briefly puzzled.

Ji Laili simply bid him farewell, “I’m leaving now, Senior. Rest well!”

Then, he dashed off.

Shen Yu opened his mouth slightly, his pale and delicate face remaining expressionless as he sat motionless.

The room was now filled only with the faint scent of iris pheromones—light and floral, carrying a hint of bitterness. The next moment, that bitterness was engulfed by an icy chill, disappearing into obscurity.

He hated all Alphas.

With a bang, the half-closed silver door was suddenly pushed open again, slammed against the wall as a young Alpha crashed in recklessly.

Ji Laili ran back in a whirlwind, propping his hands on his knees and panting heavily, his eyes filled with relief. “Whew, almost closed it!”

He wiped the sweat off his forehead. In just three seconds, he had pushed past human limits.

Damn, am I some kind of superhuman Alpha? That was impressive.

“Hah…” Ji Laili raised his hand, shaking his wrist where his Star Brain device was strapped, looking a little sheepish as he turned to Shen Yu. His sudden reappearance seemed to have startled the other, who was now staring at him blankly without a word.

“I just remembered—I don’t have your contact info yet.”

“I had to ask around for half the day just to find you. Asked three or four Alphas, too. Not having your number is really inconvenient. We’re friends now, after all…”

Seeing that Shen Yu didn’t refute this, Ji Laili’s lips curled into a smile.

“Let’s exchange contact info, Senior Shen.”

A moment later, Ji Laili successfully got Shen Yu’s contact and was very pleased.

Shen Yu really did consider him a friend—this was a major breakthrough, worth commemorating.

Facing away from Shen Yu, Ji Laili sneakily changed his contact name to—“Little Blue Butterfly.”

It just felt inexplicably fitting and kind of adorable.

Before leaving, Ji Laili sniffed the air and kindly reminded Shen Yu, “Senior, your pheromones are leaking again. If you’re feeling unwell, don’t forget to take your meds.”

Alpha susceptibility period meds were available in the medical bay, after all.

With that, he left the pheromone-filled dorm.

Was it just his imagination, or was the scent getting stronger in there? It almost felt like he was being marinated in it.

Meanwhile, Shen Yu, holding Ji Laili’s contact info, remained cold and indifferent. His gaze dropped to the Star Brain on his wrist, expression unreadable.

After a long pause, Shen Yu navigated to his sparse list of Alpha contacts.

Aside from Principal Les, who was semi-retired and uninvolved in most affairs, there was only one other name.

With his characteristic aloofness, Shen Yu tapped on the contact labeled “Instructor Aiger”—

And deleted it.

He still really hated Alphas.

…

The next day, during pheromone training, Instructor Aiger was in a terrible mood. His expression alone screamed, If you piss me off, I’ll slice you into pieces on the spot.

Before entering the training chamber, he even smirked coldly at a few underperforming Alphas.

“How are you even an Alpha? Must be a real pain to be around, huh?”

The insulted freshman Alphas were furious, itching to fight. But under Aiger’s murderous gaze, they backed down.

Leipo clicked his tongue. “Did he swallow a grenade or something?”

Ji Laili agreed, “Yeah, he’s like a machine gun, just going off.”

Zhai Yifei adjusted his uniform and glanced at them. “Looks like today’s training is going to be even tougher than yesterday.”

“Hah, what, you scared?” Leipo raised an eyebrow provocatively, slinging an arm over Ji Laili’s shoulders. “Lailai, you go show him what’s up. Give Zhai a good lesson.”

Zhai Yifei’s expression turned complicated—clearly, the nickname had unsettled him. He frowned in distaste. “What are you even calling him?”

Ji Laili blinked and scratched his head. “Uh, Brother Zhai, is that nickname weird?”

Leipo immediately grinned, eager to watch the drama unfold.

Zhai Yifei was naturally about to nod.

A double-syllable nickname for an Alpha? Disgusting. How did Leipo even say it out loud?

And calling an Alpha that—wasn’t it an insult to Ji Laili’s dignity? He must feel awful having a friend like Leipo.

“…Actually, that’s my childhood nickname. My close friends used to call me that. I mentioned it to Brother Po yesterday in passing.”

Upon hearing this, Leipo had originally laughed mercilessly.

“What kind of name is that? Sounds so soft and cutesy. Are they mocking you?”

But when he learned Ji Laili’s mother had chosen the name and that his close friends liked using it, Leipo had been at a loss for words.

Unwilling to directly apologize, the prideful Alpha simply started calling him “Lailai” too.

Now, with Ji Laili explaining it so casually, Leipo knew there’d be no drama.

Sure enough, Zhai Yifei smiled slightly. “Sounds cute. Suits you.”

Ji Laili grinned. “Thanks, bro!”

“Late reaction.” Leipo snorted.

Their eyes met, sparks flying.