Chapter Text
Gao Tu watches Shen Wenlang sitting on his couch, one leg crossed over the other, arms spread wide as if he owns the place.
He wants to tell the man to leave, to say he doesn’t need him here, that it’s dangerous for him to be here right now. But the words don’t come, or maybe he just isn’t willing to say them, especially with the overpowering scent of the S-class alpha's scent: burning incense mixed with iris, making his knees weak.
If not for his strong willpower, he would have already swayed and fallen right into Shen Wenlang’s arms. Not that the man would catch him; he’d likely fling him to the floor like worthless omega trash.
“What are you thinking so hard about? That damn omega again?” Shen Wenlang’s voice is cold and dangerously low. It doesn’t match the look on his face. If anything, he looks jealous.
Jealous… of the omega? Gao Tu notices his nest has been disrupted. Shen Wenlang’s sweater is missing. His breath quickens. Is it possible Shen Wenlang has realized he kept a few of his things there?
“Still stuck in your head, thinking about that omega?” Shen Wenlang’s tone grows sharper as he stands. He eyes the nest like he wants to kick it apart. “That omega has been in heat for the past three months like a sex-crazed lunatic. You clearly can’t satisfy that wretch. Can you even get it up like a proper beta?”
The words hit like a poisoned arrow, striking straight to his heart.
“Right, I might not be the most adequate mate for my...” He swallows, his voice tight with pain. “...omega, but they trust me.”
After all, he only has himself. That isn’t a complete lie; the truth is simply stretched.
Shen Wenlang’s eyes flash red. He looks ready to storm out.
Good, Gao Tu thinks. Please leave. I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from turning into one of those mindless omegas you hate—no, despise—with every fiber of your being.
But he doesn’t leave. He stands there, seething.
“Fine,” he says through clenched teeth. “I can’t stop you from helping that wretched thing, but I’d be an idiot to let that omega destroy your health just because they’re always in heat. So, from today on, I’m staying here until you recover. If that damn thing decides to show up, let them. They’ll have to wait until you’re better.”
“Mr. Shen,” Gao Tu pleads, voice tight with worry. This is bad. If Shen Wenlang stays more than a day, the truth will come out. His heat might start soon. It’s already a miracle the alpha hasn’t caught the scent clinging to the apartment, though he probably assumes it belongs to Gao Tu’s so-called omega.
“That’s my decision. Do you have a problem with it?” Shen Wenlang steps forward until they are face-to-face. Gao Tu’s cheeks flush deep red, though the sickness has already left his face warm, masking the reaction.
“My apartment isn’t suited for—”
“It’s fine,” Shen Wenlang cuts him off. “I already ordered better supplies, since clearly that omega ran off with all your stuff. Look at this place. There’s nothing here.” His disapproval is obvious.
“That’s not necessary. I’m comfortable with what I have,” Gao Tu replies, and it’s the truth. His salary can only stretch so far, and compared to his younger days, this place is a paradise. “Please, Mr. Shen, you can’t stay here. Just go home.”
“What, am I disturbing the omega’s rest?” Shen Wenlang folds his arms across his chest, clearly irritated. “Putting that omega above me,” he mutters, thinking Gao Tu can’t hear, but he does.
What do you mean by that? Gao Tu wants to ask, but doesn’t dare.
Realizing the alpha isn’t going anywhere, Gao Tu sighs. “I only have one bed. I can vacate it and sleep on the couch.” He looks away, ashamed, remembering nights spent soaked in sweat and other fluids. Letting Shen Wenlang sleep in that bed… it feels wrong.
“No,” Shen Wenlang replies. “I’m not sleeping in the bed where you fucked that omega. You sleep there. I already bought new supplies. I’ll sleep on the damn couch until the bed arrives.”
“Bed?” Gao Tu looks up, surprised. “What did you buy, Mr. Shen? You know I can’t repay you like that. You can take it from my paycheck—”
“Since I’ll be living here for the foreseeable future, I made the place livable. It’s for me, so don’t start that nonsense again.”
“Okay,” Gao Tu says quietly. A sudden wave of pain crashes through him. He bites his tongue to stay silent. If Shen Wenlang notices, he says nothing. “Please excuse me. It’s late. I’ll be going to bed,” he says, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. It feels like a knife is twisting in his stomach.
Shen Wenlang doesn’t reply. He just glares. Gao Tu quietly retreats to his room and closes the door behind him.
There, he collapses onto the floor, unable to contain a silent scream as the pain intensifies.
This isn’t good. He can feel it in his bones: this might be his first real heat. And Shen Wenlang, the man his body has already claimed as its alpha, is right next door. But there’s no comfort in that thought: only pain and sorrow.
Silent tears fall from his lashes like morning dew on a cold car windshield.
Shen Wenlang is fuming.
How dare Gao Tu keep talking about that omega? He brings a hand to his nose. Is my scent really that bad? That omega does have a nice sage smell. He can’t believe he just admitted that.
Without thinking, he punches the sofa, leaving a dent. It’s the omega’s fault.
“Mr. Shen, is everything okay?” Gao Tu’s voice filters through the door, quiet but strained, almost like he’s crying silently.
Is he crying over not seeing that omega? Unbelievable.
Still, Shen Wenlang’s chest aches. He wants to comfort the beta, kiss his pale neck, and whisper an apology.
For what? Being an asshole? Newsflash: he never claimed to be a saint.
It just enrages him when Gao Tu mentions that omega. His hatred for omegas runs deep. Is it wrong to hate them all because of something he saw as a boy? Maybe. But he doesn’t know how to stop. That hate has poisoned him. He laughs bitterly. As if he could ever forgive or even tolerate those creatures.
With that thought, he drops back into the chair, ignoring the soothing scent of sage drifting in the air, like a curse, tempting his alpha instincts to react, to hunt down the owner of the scent and claim them completely.
What a ridiculous idea.
Where does Gao Tu keep the cleaning supplies? Shen Wenlang is going to scrub this place from top to bottom until the omega’s scent is gone.
Before heading out, he snatches his sweater back from where he had hidden it, tucked beneath one of those ugly white cushions on the sofa—old, cheap things with thinning fabric and sunken middles—and throws it over his shirt without thinking. Some part of him wants the scent to remain, though he’ll never admit it.
He doesn’t realize the sage scent is getting stronger. Much stronger. And that can only mean one thing: an omega is going into active heat.
Shen Wenlang ignores it and grabs the disinfectant spray, dousing every surface in the apartment like a man possessed, everything except Gao Tu’s room.
The beta has gone quiet. He must finally be asleep. Good. A rare smile crosses his lips, but it quickly turns into a disgusted look when he scents the air. That sage scent still lingers. It’s fine. He’ll just spray again in the morning.
Yawning, he lies down on the couch, stretching his tall frame as best he can, his legs hanging awkwardly off the edge.
Sleep comes quickly, though it's far from peaceful. He groans, tossing and turning, haunted by the scent of an omega that refuses to let him rest.