Zhou Yi looked at the questioning message from Shang Yichen and, after a moment of consideration, replied with a prepared response: “I went to bed early last night and didn’t want to disturb your work, so I replied as soon as I woke up.”

He then continued with a message full of concern, consistent with his usual tone from their past conversations: “Mr. Shang, are you tired from your business trip? I’ve been worried about whether you’ve eaten and rested properly. After all, you have a sensitive stomach, so you should take extra care.”

“Also, I remember the weather where you are isn’t great. If you go out, please wear an extra layer and bring an umbrella to avoid catching a cold.”

Shang Yichen read through the series of messages Zhou Yi sent, and his irritation began to dissipate.

It seemed that Zhou Yi hadn’t been ignoring him on purpose but had genuinely wanted his attention. Shang Yichen had always been aware of Zhou Yi’s feelings for him, and it was evident now. The constant reminders, the care, the little messages of concern—it was clear that Zhou Yi had been waiting for him to reach out.

This made Shang Yichen feel a bit more at ease. He had neglected Zhou Yi’s messages for a few days, but now he realized that his silence had perhaps been a way to draw him in. Zhou Yi’s concern for him was undeniable.

Shang Yichen smirked slightly. Zhou Yi, playing hard to get? In his mind, Zhou Yi was simply a substitute, someone to fill a role when he felt lonely or needed someone to lean on. But it was clear from his responses that Zhou Yi was not the person he truly desired. Shang Yichen found himself comparing him to Gu Shuning—mature, gentle, and the one he had always admired.

Shang Yichen’s thoughts darkened when he remembered Zhou Yi’s car accident. That night… he hadn’t paid much attention. His secretary had arranged for a nurse, and he hadn’t even visited him in the hospital. Zhou Yi was just a stand-in, after all.

The more he thought about it, the more Shang Yichen realized how much he had ignored Zhou Yi. Now, Zhou Yi is trying to get my attention. His response felt a little childish, and Shang Yichen couldn’t help but think how little he compared to Gu Shuning.

“Yi Chen, why aren’t you asleep at this hour?” Gu Shuning’s voice came from the half-open door, snapping Shang Yichen out of his thoughts.

He quickly stood up, looking at Gu Shuning as he walked in. “I still have some work to finish,” he replied with a smile, then quickly turned off his phone, hiding the screen.

Gu Shuning leaned in slightly, her voice tinged with a hint of grievance. “You’re really busy with work this time. We finally get to spend time together, and we don’t even have a chance to go out for a walk.”

Shang Yichen looked at her, his eyes softening as he saw the hurt in her expression. “Sorry, Shuning, I didn’t mean to. Let’s go out tomorrow and visit your favorite stores.”

Her eyes lit up as a smile curved her lips. “Yichen, thank you. No one else would be as kind to me as you.”

Shang Yichen shook his head, a serious look in his eyes. “We grew up together. Being kind to you is just something I should do.”

Gu Shuning blinked, clearly touched, but if one looked closely, her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Meanwhile, in Zhou Yi’s apartment, he finally finished dealing with Shang Yichen. He collapsed on the sofa, feeling utterly drained. His body was sore, his waist aching, and his limbs weak from exhaustion. He had wanted to lie on the sofa for just a little while before heading to bed, but once he laid down, he couldn’t muster the strength to get back up. The dull pain in his body made him realize it wasn’t just physical exhaustion.

I’ll just take a nap here for a while. It won’t hurt to rest a bit before heading to bed.

With that thought, Zhou Yi drifted into a half-conscious state, his body sore but his mind wandering.

That afternoon, Liang Xianzhang went to the hospital for an examination. He knew that if he continued to delay, he might do something completely irrational.

The entire morning, he had stayed in the room where Zhou Yi had slept, closing the door and windows to keep the lingering pheromone scent from dissipating. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from holding onto Zhou Yi’s pajamas, still stained with the Omega’s scent, despite throwing them back on the bedside table earlier.

The behavior made him feel conflicted. His mind knew this was perverse, but his body had disregarded all logic and kept clutching the clothes.

I need to figure this out. I can’t keep losing control like this.

After undergoing blood tests and several examinations, Liang Xianzhang sat in the consultation room, facing his brother, Liang Shaowen, who was reading the results.

Liang Shaowen smiled after reading the report. “Your test results are much better than last time. Some indicators are even approaching normal Alpha levels. Your atrophied glands are secreting pheromones, and they’re improving gradually. It seems that the Omega has had a positive influence on you. If you continue like this, you may eventually recover to be like an ordinary Alpha.”

Liang Xianzhang listened quietly, but Liang Shaowen’s next question caught his attention. “By the way, how are you getting along with that Omega? Did he stay or leave?”

“He went home,” Liang Xianzhang replied curtly.

Liang Shaowen raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell him…?”

Liang Xianzhang didn’t need to hear the rest. He calmly responded, “No, we didn’t say anything extra.”

Liang Shaowen gave him an expression that practically screamed, What a pity.

Liang Xianzhang ignored him and continued, “Don’t interfere in this matter. I know my limits,” he hesitated for a moment before confessing, “and… I held his pajamas just now.”

Liang Shaowen fell silent, considering his brother’s words carefully. “Alphas often exhibit nesting behavior during their susceptible period. They collect their partner’s clothes to build a nest, an instinctive behavior driven by insecurity. It’s a sign that the Alpha is craving the Omega’s pheromones.”

Liang Xianzhang’s face tightened, but his brother wasn’t done yet.

Liang Shaowen went on, “If the two of you really are a match, then your bodies might be reacting to each other on a deeper level. This could be a ‘fated match,’ meaning your genetic instincts are pulling you together.”

Liang Xianzhang frowned. “A fated match?”

Liang Shaowen nodded, his tone serious. “It’s not something most people know about. It’s when an Alpha and an Omega feel an unexplainable pull toward each other. Their bodies react to each other’s pheromones, as if they’re instinctively drawn to one another. It’s a genetic connection that goes beyond the mind.”

The idea of this fated match unsettled Liang Xianzhang. His gaze dropped as he thought about Zhou Yi’s words before leaving—“Is anyone waiting for you at home?”

Liang Shaowen’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “If this is the case, you need to talk to him. If you’re truly a fated match, the impact will be significant. You, especially, being an inferior Alpha, might experience symptoms of withdrawal if you lose his pheromone comfort.”

Liang Xianzhang stared at the floor, the weight of his brother’s words sinking in. He had to face this new reality.

That evening, back at home, he stood at the door of his apartment, unsure of how to proceed. His eyes, dark and clouded with thoughts of Zhou Yi, lingered on the closed door across the hall. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was pulling him toward the Omega, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

Are we really destined to be together?

He sighed deeply and walked into his apartment, the scent of Zhou Yi lingering in the air.