*Thinking of Her Again*
Morning light seeped faintly through the windows.
The food on the dining table had long gone cold. Yuan Lai sat there, motionless, her whole body stiff.
The lights in the house were off, leaving her face hidden in the shadows—her expression unreadable.
She let out a short, mocking laugh, stood up, and swept the cold food into the trash.
When Song Qingxu returned, daylight was already bright outside.
She had stopped by the company to pick up her phone and bag from her agent. This wasn’t the first time Ge He had gone missing after taking her belongings—sometimes she’d bump into a friend and leave with them mid-conversation, sometimes she’d have to rush off unexpectedly, and sometimes she’d simply forget she was supposed to wait for Qingxu.
If anything of Qingxu’s ended up with her, Ge He would usually drop it off at the office for Qingxu to pick up when she had time.
As Qingxu stepped out of the company building with her things, she happened to run into Xia Shaoshao.
Shaoshao was a new recruit, soon to appear with Qingxu on the same variety show—one of the many juniors the company had assigned Qingxu to mentor.
“Qingxu-jie, what a coincidence!” Shaoshao said.
She called out brightly from a distance.
“What a coincidence,” Qingxu replied with a polite smile.
Shaoshao quickly caught up in a few brisk steps.
“Qingxu-jie, are you busy later? I was hoping to ask you for a little favor.”
As a senior, Qingxu would help the juniors when she could. She’d had a hard enough path herself, so she hoped to make the road easier for those who came after her.
Shaoshao suggested, “It’s nearly dinnertime—why don’t we talk over a meal?”
Qingxu thought about it. Going home meant eating alone; eating out would be nicer. She nodded.
Shaoshao chose a restaurant close to the company.
The food’s taste was still unknown, but the ambiance impressed Qingxu the moment she stepped inside.
Dim vintage crystal chandeliers, art murals on the walls, and fresh floral arrangements on the tables and in the corners—all carefully curated for a romantic atmosphere.
Shaoshao pulled out a chair for her.
“This place was recommended to me,” Shaoshao said with a playful blink. “First time here too—good thing I have you to try it with me, Qingxu-jie.”
Qingxu unfolded her napkin. “About that favor you mentioned—what exactly is it?”
“Well,” Shaoshao sat opposite her, “we start filming the variety show in two days. I wanted to ask you for advice.”
“I wouldn’t call it advice,” Qingxu waved her hand. “I’ve done plenty of variety shows with new talent, but this is my first wilderness survival show.”
“So you don’t have experience either?” Shaoshao feigned a dramatic gasp. “We’ll be eliminated in the first episode!”
Qingxu took a sip of white wine. “We haven’t even stepped onto the battlefield and you’re already admitting defeat? Who knows—maybe the other guests will be even worse.”
Shaoshao’s tone softened into something serious. “Qingxu-jie, will you be upset with me?”
“Upset? About what?” Qingxu asked.
“For dragging you into this,” Shaoshao lowered her head. “The company paired us up for more exposure—for me—and sent us into the show together.”
“That was the company’s decision. Why would I blame you?” Qingxu answered.
A server approached to set down their dishes, the perfume on her a touch too strong. Qingxu instinctively held her breath.
If only Yuan Lai were here—she preferred the crisp, citrus scent of Yuan Lai’s pheromones. Just a whiff was enough to clear her mind.
She froze, startled at herself. How long had it been since they’d parted? Why was she suddenly thinking of her now?
But once the thought surfaced, it came like a tide. Qingxu couldn’t stop wondering what Yuan Lai was doing—out in one of her usual nightclubs, or spending the night at some lover’s place?
She forced herself to push the thought away.
Shaoshao noticed her momentary distraction. “What’s on your mind, Qingxu-jie?”
“Nothing,” Qingxu said lightly, skipping past the question. “How’s your preparation going for the show?”
Shaoshao took the change of topic. “I’ve been watching past seasons of Wilderness Diary—trying to pick up some tips.”
The show had made waves with its raw, unpredictable live survival format—no scripts, nothing staged. That was its hook.
When it was first announced, it immediately gained a large following. But instead of hiring professionals, the producers took the unexpected route of inviting influencers and celebrities.
Usually, only influencers and fresh-faced entertainers desperate for exposure would agree to join. No one knew how much Qingxu’s company had been paid to have her take a junior along.
With her contract nearing its end, the company seemed determined to wring out every last drop of value, regardless of how the show might affect her image.
Qingxu gave Shaoshao an approving nod—among all the juniors she’d been tasked to mentor, Shaoshao was one of the more self-sufficient ones. Some rookies showed up having done no homework at all, leaving everything for her to handle.
“I skimmed a few episodes myself,” Qingxu said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin, “but didn’t finish them.”
The company had been overloading her with work lately, lightening her schedule only in the two days before filming.
“Qingxu-jie, you’re done eating already?” Shaoshao asked, noting she’d barely touched her food.
“The dishes are great,” Qingxu assured her with a calming smile, “I just don’t eat much at night.”
“No wonder you have such a great figure,” Shaoshao sighed in admiration.
Qingxu only smiled faintly and waited for her to finish.
When Shaoshao took her last bite, she found Qingxu had already slipped away to pay the bill.
“Qingxu-jie! I told you it was my treat!” Shaoshao pouted.
“Next time you can treat me.” Like most adults, Qingxu’s “next time” was simply polite convention.
But Shaoshao took it as an actual invitation and beamed, her joy barely contained.
Such a wonderful person—why had she married so young?
Qingxu didn’t notice the sudden change in her mood. Her mind was already elsewhere—specifically, on Yuan Lai.
Since the temporary marking, this was the longest she had been apart from her. A faint ache pulsed at the gland on her nape, hidden under her long hair. She kept her expression neutral, so Shaoshao didn’t notice anything.
But if she stayed much longer, she feared she wouldn’t be able to keep her pheromones from leaking. She excused herself.
She didn’t want to go home—worried that the lingering trace of Yuan Lai’s scent there would only make the discomfort worse.
“My place is nearby,” Shaoshao offered naturally. “Want to come watch Wilderness Diary together? We can review and plan our strategy.”
Qingxu smiled politely. “Sorry, I have plans tonight.”
Shaoshao’s disappointment flickered briefly before vanishing. Qingxu didn’t notice—her thoughts were still trapped in that familiar silhouette.
She knew it was the pheromones affecting her, but that didn’t stop the faint, unwelcome warmth from blooming in her chest.
In the past, Yuan Lai could stay out all night without Qingxu caring. Now she was staring at her phone, fighting the urge to call.
Afraid she might give in, she shoved the phone into her pocket.
Instead of going home, she booked a suite in a hotel nearby.
She bought an inhibitor patch and pressed it firmly over her gland.
From the bathroom came the sound of running water. The frosted glass door swung open, letting the steam spill out.
Through the haze, Qingxu stepped out, her damp hair spilling over her shoulders.
She smelled faintly of honeysuckle—her natural scent—layered with the hotel’s bath products.
Sprawled on the king-sized bed, her long black hair fanned over the pillow, pale legs bent loosely, she reached for the remote.
It was still early—far from her usual bedtime.
She lazily fast-forwarded through episodes of Wilderness Diary, alone in the quiet of her hotel suite, instead of at Shaoshao’s apartment.
Song Qingxu tried her best to divert her attention, but the persistent swell in the glands at the back of her neck was a constant reminder—urging her to seek an Alpha’s comfort.
Whenever the waves of desire struck, she could only suppress the maddening sensation through sheer willpower.
Song Qingxu hated losing control. She hated it when things strayed beyond her expectations.
She pressed hard against the glands on her nape until the skin turned red from the friction, using pain to mask her craving for the other’s touch.
It was a sleepless night.
At dawn, Song Qingxu checked out early.
Her softly curled hair drooped listlessly behind her, and a fresh suppressant patch—hidden beneath her long hair—now covered the glands on her nape.
She had spent the entire night watching wilderness survival documentaries, convincing herself she was fully prepared. Since she couldn’t match an Alpha in physical strength, she would make up for it in other ways.
When she opened the front door, the entryway was empty.
Yuan Lai, as expected, wasn’t home.
Song Qingxu caught a faint trace of citrus pheromones lingering in the air, and the skin on her nape began to heat.
Too sensitive.
She let out a quiet sigh, shut the door, and walked deeper into the apartment.
The further she went, the stronger the citrus scent became. Her cheeks were tinged pink now, and her breathing quickened.
It was as though she were being lured by that faint citrus trail, following it toward its source.
The last place she expected it to lead her… was the dining room.
She pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning forward until her upper body was sprawled across the table. Her limbs had gone soft, her face flushed, breath coming in ragged bursts.
With a swift motion, she tore away the suppressant patch from her glands. The honeysuckle fragrance of her pheromones burst forth like a dam breaking, tangling intimately with the lingering citrus in the air.
In that moment, she let herself sink into the tide of desire.
________________________________________
Yuan Lai returned with breakfast in hand.
She had taken a walk downstairs to shake off the gloom clouding her mind, stopping by to meet the top talent agent recommended by Yuan Jingyun.
Yan Linda had been in the entertainment industry for over twenty years. Every artist she’d managed had risen to prominence—her skill beyond question.
After their conversation, Yuan Lai picked up a basket of steaming soup dumplings to bring home. She started to call Song Qingxu, then hesitated and set the phone down.
Better not. What if she found her annoying and moved out? Then Yuan Lai wouldn’t even get the chance to show her face—let alone win her over.
This time, she didn’t knock. She pressed her fingerprint to the lock.
The moment the door cracked open, the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle flooded in, crashing into her senses.
In a heartbeat, she slipped inside and shut the door with practiced ease.
Her slender fingers tightened unconsciously around the breakfast bag, the neatly trimmed nails faintly pink at the tips.
Her throat went dry. She swallowed, trying to calm her pulse.
“Song… Song Qingxu?”
Yuan Lai’s voice came out husky.
“You… you’re home?”
The honeysuckle drifting through the air already told Yuan Lai she was there, but at that moment, Yuan Lai wanted to hear it from her lips.
She wanted to hear her voice.
Following the trail of scent, Yuan Lai found her—seated exactly where Yuan Lai herself had sat the night before.
She walked over.
Song Qingxu’s face was cold, her tone detached. “What are you doing here?” Her brows drew together. “If there’s nothing important, leave.”
If not for the flush coloring her cheeks, Yuan Lai might have believed the icy facade.
The sight of her—cheeks tinged rose, breath unsteady—was dangerously alluring. Were it not for the fear of angering her, Yuan Lai would have reached for a camera to capture that beauty.
Instead of leaving, Yuan Lai stepped closer.
She set the still-warm dumplings and soy milk before Song Qingxu, eyes openly predatory, gaze never wavering.
“Have you eaten?” Yuan Lai asked.
Leaning into the honeysuckle drifting between them, Yuan Lai deliberately released a surge of her own pheromones.
It was as if Song Qingxu had fallen into a grove of orange trees, lying on a sunlit hill made of countless golden fruits, the warmth and freshness wrapping around her, leaving no space to breathe.
Her eyes fluttered shut. She let herself savor the fleeting sweetness.
To Yuan Lai, not refusing was the same as consent.
She boldly swept Song Qingxu’s hair to one side, revealing the delicate curve of her face. Her long lashes trembled, betraying a trace of nervousness.
One seated, head tilted back; the other leaning down from above.
Yuan Lai’s gaze roamed over skin so pale it was almost translucent. She couldn’t resist lowering her head.
Song Qingxu wanted to push her away, yet couldn’t bear to lose the warmth of her hand grazing her skin.
Desire warred with reason—desire won.
She let her body relax, tilting slightly to bare the glands at her nape.
Yuan Lai understood. Her eyes darkened, but she resisted the urge to sink her teeth in.
She didn’t want to be just a tool for Song Qingxu’s physical needs—she wanted a place in her heart.
So her hands kindled sparks across her body, everywhere but the center, letting the ache sharpen.
“Mmm…”
The sound escaped her throat, low and urgent. Pleased, Yuan Lai’s hands moved with even greater intent.
The roughness from last night had left faint marks near the glands on her pale skin. Sweeping her hair forward, Yuan Lai’s eyes landed on the new redness blooming there. She murmured softly against her ear—
“Why so red?”
Whether she meant the glands or her flushed skin was unclear.
Song Qingxu was already fairer than most Omegas. Now, her pale complexion was tinged with the softest blush—breathtaking.
Yuan Lai bent low, her breath warm against the cool nape. She didn’t rush; her tongue brushed lightly over the skin.
Song Qingxu shuddered, instinctively glancing back—only to have her lips captured in an unguarded moment.
Her gasps were swallowed in the kiss. Hands pressed against Yuan Lai’s chest, only to be caught and held.
Yuan Lai’s palm enveloped hers, fingers threading tightly together.
Breath mingled, hair tangled, the world beyond forgotten. The breakfast on the table had long since gone cold.
Song Qingxu’s gaze turned hazy, the tenderness in her eyes shimmering like water. She arched her neck, as if ready to bloom beneath her.
Yuan Lai’s eyes never left her—like a dragon guarding its most precious treasure in the heart of its lair.
She bent closer, hovering over the delicate pink of her glands.
Her fingers stroked the spot lightly, coaxing shivers from her, then pressed with just enough weight to deepen the sensation.
The glands were like a ripe apple now, radiating an irresistible sweetness, begging to be claimed.
Song Qingxu’s temperature climbed; sweat dampened the fine strands framing her flushed face.
Yuan Lai patiently smoothed them back, tucking each lock behind her ear—before finally leaning in to taste the “fruit.”
Her lips parted, teeth sinking in gently, the fragrance flooding her senses.
And, of course, one taste would never be enough. There was still time—plenty of time—to savor her slowly.