Perhaps because his mind was so clouded, Shang Yichen didn’t sleep well that night. Even in his dreams, Zhou Yi’s beautiful, watery eyes haunted him. The love in those eyes seemed to overflow, and Shang Yichen couldn’t help but lean in closer, captivated by the obedient expression, the slender neck, and the face that reminded him of Gu Shuning—just enough to stir something within him.

A deep hunger rose in his throat, and his body grew hot. His pheromones surged uncontrollably. In the dream, Zhou Yi also seemed to respond, leaning into his arms as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Shang Yichen, already aroused by lust, reached out, his hand pinching Zhou Yi’s chin, about to kiss him. But then he heard a voice—familiar, haunting.

“Yichen…”

Shang Yichen jerked his head around, only to see Gu Shuning standing behind him, watching him with a look of betrayal.

The shock of the moment froze him. The heat in his body was extinguished as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. His pulse stilled, and a shiver of dread ran down his spine.

The dream was so vivid and disturbing that Shang Yichen was abruptly awakened, his body slick with cold sweat. Staring at the ceiling above, he gasped for air, trying to calm his racing heart. It was just a dream, but the fear it invoked still lingered, gnawing at him.

As his chest heaved, Shang Yichen realized his pheromones were still circulating, filling the room with the heavy scent of tobacco. His body felt both empty and overheated.

He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and checked the time. It was just after three in the morning. With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the phone aside and covered his eyes with his elbow. His estrus period isn’t supposed to start yet, why so early?

He wondered if it had something to do with the dream—perhaps a buildup of sexual tension after such a long time of going unfulfilled. Could I really have such fantasies about Zhou Yi? Shang Yichen felt a surge of irritation at the thought of his actions in the dream.

In his mind, Zhou Yi was nothing more than a substitute—an amusement, a placeholder to be discarded once Gu Shuning returned. Yet, in his dream, he couldn’t stop himself from getting close to Zhou Yi, only to be caught by Gu Shuning. It left him feeling uneasy, despite knowing it was just a dream.

The anger that simmered within him turned towards Zhou Yi, whose daily behavior seemed to irritate him more than ever. He disliked how Zhou Yi played games—how he tried to win his favor with calculated moves, how he subtly tried to assert himself in front of Gu Shuning, all in an effort to get closer to him.

Shang Yichen lay in bed, ruminating, his emotions uncontrollable. He despised the way Zhou Yi seemed to manipulate the situation, all while hiding behind a façade of innocence. It only made him more infuriating.

---

The next morning, Zhou Yi brought out the porridge and egg pancakes he had prepared, but as soon as Shang Yichen walked out of the room, Zhou Yi noticed the tense atmosphere surrounding him. His face was stormy, and the smell of tobacco clung to the air, stronger than usual.

Zhou Yi froze. He could sense something was off. The pheromones in the air were so potent they almost made his head spin. His instincts told him to keep his distance, but he couldn’t avoid him outright. To maintain some semblance of normalcy, he forced a smile. “Good morning, Mr. Shang.”

Shang Yichen, whose mind had been a battlefield of emotions, barely reacted. His lack of sleep and his foul mood made him especially irritable. The emotional turmoil from his estrus period made his already volatile temper worse, and any interaction with Zhou Yi now seemed like an annoyance.

“Who are you showing that fake smile to?” Shang Yichen scowled, his voice dripping with disdain. “Stop smiling like that. It’s disgusting.”

Zhou Yi’s smile faltered, his eyes briefly flickering with uncertainty. He lowered his head, apologizing softly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Shang. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to let you know breakfast is ready.”

Before he could finish, Shang Yichen’s anger flared. “Enough! I don’t want to eat! All you do is shove food in my face every day. I’m sick of seeing that pathetic expression of yours!”

Zhou Yi’s heart sank, but he remained silent, holding the tray steady as he tried to keep his composure. “I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly, but it did little to calm Shang Yichen’s temper.

“Stop pretending to be pitiful in front of me,” Shang Yichen sneered, his chest tightening with frustration. “Who do you expect to feel sorry for you?”

Unable to hold back his anger any longer, Shang Yichen lashed out. He reached forward and shoved Zhou Yi hard. Surprised by the sudden push, Zhou Yi stumbled back. Holding the tray in his hands, he didn’t have time to grab anything to steady himself, and he crashed to the floor. The bowl of porridge shattered on impact, spilling across the floor.

Zhou Yi’s clothes were soaked with the spilled porridge. The broken bowl lay scattered around him, and his body felt sticky from the mess, but he said nothing. He didn’t dare make a sound, silently enduring the discomfort and humiliation.

Shang Yichen stood over him, his anger still boiling. “Don’t act pitiful next time,” he spat, his voice cold. With that, he turned on his heel, grabbed his shoes, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Zhou Yi remained on the floor, his hands shaking. After a moment of stillness, he slowly got up and limped to the bathroom. There, he reached for the pheromone eliminator, spraying it in the living room to try to alleviate the headache the pheromones had caused.

As he looked at the broken bowl on the ground, he felt a strange sense of detachment. The porridge was ruined, but the egg pancake had survived. Without a second thought, Zhou Yi picked it up and ate it. He had no tolerance for wasting food.

The mess on his shirt and the sticky residue made him uncomfortable, so he went to his room to shower and change into fresh clothes.

Zhou Yi couldn’t understand what was wrong with Shang Yichen. His emotions were all over the place, and it was becoming harder to predict his moods. Those who knew him thought he was entering his estrus period, while others wondered if he was having some sort of breakdown.

Zhou Yi couldn’t ignore the overpowering scent of Shang Yichen’s pheromones that still clung to the air. As he touched the gland on the back of his neck, he felt it swell in response. I only smelled it for a little while, and now my glands are reacting…

He sighed, feeling the familiar helplessness that came with his Omega nature. After a moment’s hesitation, he retrieved his inhibitor from the drawer and took it, but even then, a strange sense of unease lingered in the pit of his stomach.