Jiang Yanqing · Chat

As Jiang Yanqing stood in the foyer changing his shoes, his eyes swept subtly across the living room—no one. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, just as expected. Given that guy's personality, how could he possibly be sitting downstairs waiting for him with open arms? He was bound to be curled up in his own room, probably wishing he could weld the door shut. "He's upstairs." The housekeeper was clearly used to Jiang Yanqing's visits and didn't even bother to announce him. "He barely ate any breakfast and is in a terrible mood." "Thank you for your hard work," Jiang Yanqing nodded slightly, his smile warm and polite. "I'll go check on him." His footsteps as he headed upstairs were neither too heavy nor too light, just enough for the person inside to hear. Stopping in front of the tightly shut door, he didn't knock, but instead tried the doorknob directly—locked. Jiang Yanqing raised an eyebrow. Look at him, actually knowing to lock the door now. "Open up." No response. "I'm counting to three," his voice remained gentle, as if coaxing a throwing-a-tantrum child, though the absolute certainty in his tone was undisguised. "One, two—" The door was suddenly yanked open. The person inside stood with messy hair, slightly red eyes, and a hoodie that was clearly two sizes too big. They shrunk behind the doorframe, revealing only half of their face and a single eye glaring at him. Their voice was as raspy as sandpaper scraping against glass: "What are you doing here?" Jiang Yanqing looked down at him. Having not seen him for three days, this guy looked even worse than he had imagined—the redness around his eyes hadn't faded, and the tip of his nose was tinged with a faint pink, showing he had clearly cried more than once. His perfect social mask remained completely intact, but something darkened in the depths of his eyes for a split second. "Just here to visit the casualty," Jiang Yanqing raised the paper bag in his hand, a perfectly measured smile playing on his lips. "And to see if a certain someone who has skipped school for three days plans to drop out entirely or what." The person inside didn't take the bait, standing frozen at the door, making it abundantly clear they didn't intend to let him in. Jiang Yanqing didn't force his way in. He simply tilted his head slightly and uttered truly wicked words in a tone that was practically gentle: "I heard... you differentiated into an Omega?" The other's body visibly stiffened. "...You're here to laugh at me." It wasn't a question, but a statement. The voice was even more muffled than before, carrying a sense of grievance that was being forcefully suppressed but still leaked out. Jiang Yanqing looked down at him, the light of the hallway reflecting in his dark, phoenix-like eyes, his expression as composed as ever. He reached out, pressing a single finger against the door panel, and pushed it open slowly. The movement wasn't rough, but it carried an undeniable force. "Step aside, let me in." He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, blocking any potential prying eyes from the housekeeper downstairs, then placed the paper bag on the table. Inside the bag was a box of the other's favorite mango sticky rice, along with a few fever-reducing pills—though he admitted that bringing medicine at this specific moment was slightly intentional. Then he turned, looking down at the person who had retreated to the bedside, wrapping themselves into a ball with the duvet. "'Top-tier Omega,'" Jiang Yanqing repeated, his voice trailing up slightly at the end as if savoring something interesting. "So you've been hiding for three days because of this?" The figure under the duvet didn't move. "Think you lost to me?" The edge of the duvet was gripped a little tighter. Standing by the bed, Jiang Yanqing looked down at the lump, remaining silent for a few seconds. "So you're really just giving up?" The person under the duvet suddenly threw it off, revealing a flushed face, with unshed tears still swirling in their eyes: "Jiang Yanqing, that's enough! You clearly know—" "Know what?" "Know that I originally thought I would be—" The second half of the sentence was abruptly bitten back. The person turned their face away, shoulders tense, as if fighting against some invisible force. Jiang Yanqing watched. He watched the other bite their lips until they turned pale, watched their knuckles turn white as they gripped the corner of the duvet, and watched those tears stubbornly refusing to fall. Then, he sat down at the edge of the bed, his tone returning to its usual lazy, nonchalant drawl: "So what if you're an Omega?" "Easy for you to say!" The other turned back sharply, their voice rising half an octave, though it sounded completely non-threatening due to their heavily stuffed nose. "Do you think everyone is like you, differentiating into a top-tier Alpha? I've looked forward to it for so long, why do I have to be—" "So," Jiang Yanqing interrupted him, "you think that because you differentiated into an Omega, you're inferior to me?" "...I didn't say that." "It's written all over your face." He raised his hand and tapped the other's forehead gently with his index finger, as if disciplining a disobedient child, though a flicker of amusement crossed his eyes. "Since we were kids, which of us was ever inferior? How many points have you ever trailed me by on the report cards? How many times have you let me win on the basketball court? Every time you lost, you looked like you wanted to bite me to death. Why are you giving up so easily this time?" "...This is different." "How is it different?" No answer. Jiang Yanqing leaned down, drawing closer, his voice dropping to a low, steady murmur, as if deliberately teasing him with his pheromones—the crisp scent of bergamot mixed with the cool sweetness of lily of the valley spread subtly between them. "Are you thinking that Omegas are naturally weaker than Alphas—" "I am not!" "Or is it," he tilted his head slightly, the curve of his lips deepening, his tone lazy and teasing, "that you're just unwilling to accept that you've differentiated into *my* Omega?" Silence fell over the room for two seconds. Then, a pillow flew squarely into Jiang Yanqing's face. "Who belongs to you!" The other sprang up from the bed, face flushed bright red. "Stop talking nonsense!" Jiang Yanqing caught the pillow steadily, even finding the leisure to adjust his collar which had been knocked askew, his expression completely unfazed: "Such a big reaction. Looks like I hit a nerve." "Shut up!" "The mouth belongs to me. You don't get to tell me whether to shut it." "You—" The other was speechless with anger, their finger trembling as they pointed at him, eyes still red, nose still stuffed, hair still messy, looking exactly like a ruffled cat whose tail had been stepped on. Following the direction of the pointing finger, Jiang Yanqing grabbed the other's wrist and pressed their arm back to their side. His grip was light, yet it carried an indescribable sense of possessiveness. "Alright," he dropped his playful expression, his voice lowering, losing some of its teasing edge and gaining a touch of seriousness that very few people ever got to hear. "Three days is enough. Tomorrow, go back to school." "I won't—" "I'll pick you up." "No need!" "I said there is." Jiang Yanqing stood up and pushed the box of sticky rice forward a bit. "Eat your breakfast first, then wash your face," he walked to the door, glancing back at him, the light from the window reflecting in his phoenix eyes. "Stop crying. It's not that big of a deal." He opened the door, stopping for a second before stepping out. "By the way." The person on the bed looked at him warily. Jiang Yanqing turned his head, his lips curving into a highly irritating smirk that only ever appeared in front of this person. "When you scold people, your voice gets really nasal, like a cat with a cold. It's actually quite cute." The door closed firmly just before the second pillow came flying. In the hallway, Jiang Yanqing leaned against the wall for two seconds, looking down at his wrist—the hand that had just held the other's wrist still retained a trace of lingering warmth. The pheromones of a top-tier Omega, even without being intentionally released, could still make his Alpha nerves tingle slightly when he got close.