The entire lobby instantly erupted with energy. A thrill of adventure hung in the air; since the mountain area wasn’t particularly large, everyone was eager to start. They chattered loudly while forming teams, fueled by a competitive drive to bring back the most impressive ingredients.
Sheng Mian, pulling Yi Chi along with high spirits, didn’t forget to look back and urge the other two. “Let’s go! Hurry up!”
The ground was scattered with blankets of fallen maple leaves. The forest trails were made of wood, creaking rhythmically under their footsteps. The morning sun was both intense and gentle, pouring down through the dense canopy to cast shimmering orbs of light onto the ground, made even more brilliant by the surrounding fiery red hues.
Sheng Mian scanned her surroundings, picking up a straight branch to poke through the leaf litter. From the distance, the occasional cheers of other students finding ingredients echoed through the trees.
The landscape was a sea of crimson that nearly made her eyes blur. Suddenly, a shade of red that differed slightly from the maples caught her eye. Though it blended in significantly with its surroundings, Sheng Mian captured that subtle variation.
She ran over and brushed aside the leaves. Her fingers met a different texture—the crinkle of a red plastic bag. She lifted it; it was quite heavy.
Sheng Mian struggled to hoist the bag high to show them. “I found one! It feels like meat; it’s really heavy.”
Yi Chi walked over, beaming as she praised her, “That’s amazing!”
Being praised so bluntly made Sheng Mian a little shy. As she lugged the bag, her right hand began to turn pale from the weight of the handles. Shen Zhilin reached out toward her.
Sheng Mian didn’t quite grasp the intent. Hold hands? Her mind went blank, and she placed her free left hand into Zhilin’s, even closing her grip around it.
Feeling Zhilin’s hand go stiff and motionless, Yi Chi and Qin Heng widened their eyes, staring at the “linked” hands. Neither dared to make a sound, afraid to shatter the moment.
Sheng Mian looked at Zhilin with confusion. For once, she saw a flicker of panic in the Alpha’s eyes. Zhilin lowered her gaze, unable to meet her eyes, her right hand twitching involuntarily with stiffness. In a dry, raspy voice, she managed: “I’ll carry it for you.”
Realizing she had completely misinterpreted the gesture, Sheng Mian’s head felt like a steaming chimney. She hurriedly retracted her hand, so embarrassed that she forgot to offer a polite refusal and just shoved the bag toward her.
The intense morning sun made both their faces flush. Thin beads of sweat broke out on Sheng Mian’s forehead, so she pulled off her jacket and tied it around her waist.
The four of them shared an unspoken pact not to mention what had just happened, though Sheng Mian found herself unable to focus on looking for food after that.
Qin Heng, however, struck gold among a pile of leaves, finding a bag containing scallions, ginger, garlic, and peppercorns. Yi Chi also discovered a bag of vegetables hidden in a hollow tree trunk.
“Look at all these weeds over here,” Yi Chi called out. Sheng Mian knelt beside her and laughed. “Those aren’t weeds; they’re wild greens. They’re edible.”
“Does anyone have a knife?” Sheng Mian asked. Yi Chi shook her head, but Shen Zhilin pulled a butterfly knife from her pocket, thoughtfully flicking it open for her.
Zhilin’s fingers were long and dexterous; she manipulated the knife like a magician, a blur of motion before handing the hilt to Sheng Mian.
“Do you always carry this?” Sheng Mian asked casually. Zhilin nodded. The knife had been with her for many years, one of the few things her parents had left her.
The knife was slender and elegant, cold to the touch and surprisingly heavy. The blade was razor-sharp. Sheng Mian sensed it was likely quite expensive.
She carefully inserted the tip into the soil, severed the stems of the wild greens, and with a gentle flick and a pry, lifted out a perfectly intact plant. The process was so smooth and practiced that it was clear this wasn’t her first time.
Sheng Mian continued digging until all the surrounding greens were in their bag. She pulled out a wet wipe, cleaned the blade and her hands, and returned the knife to Zhilin.
Qin Heng couldn’t help but marvel, “Sheng Mian, you actually know how to forage? You’re so fast, and they’re all so perfect.”
Sheng Mian gave a modest grin. “I used to do it when I was little.”
In her past life, the teachers at the orphanage used to take the children to the hills to dig for wild greens. In the evenings, the teachers would stir-fry them or serve them fresh with dipping sauce. But since starting university, she hadn’t tasted them again.
Qin Heng was impressed. “Digging for wild greens as a kid, you don’t see that around here very often.”
Yi Chi mused that places where wild greens actually grew were rare now, mostly restricted to remote mountain villages. Most young people today couldn’t tell the difference between a vegetable and a weed.
The group ventured deeper until the melodious sound of running water grew clear. A shimmering, crystalline stream appeared. Sheng Mian walked over quickly, dipping her fingers into the water and sprinkling it over the wild greens.
“This will keep them fresh.”
Upstream, a narrow but rushing waterfall plunged downward, the snowy-white water crashing against giant boulders below and kicking up a mist of white foam.
As noon approached, the early autumn heat remained strong. Everyone was sweating. Qin Heng splashed some water on his face, letting out a long sigh of relief at the instant chill.
A glint of light reflected off the water and caught Qin Heng’s eye. He squinted for a closer look and gasped, “Look! Over there!”
Following his voice, the others saw fish—not very large, but swimming gracefully through the clear water.
“Let’s rest here for a bit,” Shen Zhilin said, setting down the bags and sitting on a rock, stretching out her long legs.
After nearly an hour of walking, they were all tired. Sheng Mian sat on the ground, picking up thin, flat stones and skipping them across the water.
Qin Heng picked up a stone of his own and managed even more skips than Sheng Mian. He raised his eyebrows. “How’s that? Pure technique.”
Sheng Mian’s competitive side flared up, and the two began to challenge each other. Qin Heng turned to Zhilin. “Come on, give it a shot. Let’s see how many you can get.”
Zhilin casually picked up a stone. With a flick of her wrist—skip-skip-skip—the stone danced across the surface over a dozen times, far surpassing both Qin Heng and Sheng Mian.
“Yi Chi, you try.” Sheng Mian took Yi Chi’s hand, giving her a perfectly selected flat stone.
Yi Chi shook her head. “I don’t know how.”
“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.” Sheng Mian explained the grip and the motion. Following her instructions, Yi Chi threw the stone. It skipped twice before sinking.
Sheng Mian clapped. “You got it on your first try! That’s great.”
Yi Chi scratched her head shyly and tried a few more times.
“Ye-ge, look,” Mao Jing said, pointing toward Sheng Mian’s group.
Cheng Liye squinted against the sunlight, watching the four of them laughing and skipping stones by the water.
Sheng Mian’s face looked translucent under the brilliant sunlight, her eyes filled with pure joy. Her slender, delicate frame appeared both fragile and strikingly eye-catching.
She seemed to be clapping for the Alpha in the black windbreaker.
Cheng Liye approached them. Once he reached a certain distance, he picked up a stone and skipped it across the same stretch of water.
Skip, skip, skip. The stone bounced right before their eyes, kicking up a spray that splashed onto Sheng Mian’s face. She blinked in surprise and looked over.
Cheng Liye stood there arrogantly, hands in his pockets, staring directly at Sheng Mian. Shen Zhilin’s brow furrowed in a dark, displeased scowl. Everyone present could feel the hostile energy radiating from him.
The laughter died instantly. Cheng Liye was like an apex predator intruding upon another’s territory, yet he carried an air of casual, effortless dominance.
“I’m just here to catch up with an old friend,” Cheng Liye said with a faint, knowing smile.
Yi Chi glanced nervously at Sheng Mian. Sheng Mian stood frozen in place, her sleeves still rolled up and her hands wet, looking completely dazed.
Cheng Liye’s gaze was locked entirely on her. Sheng Mian felt a shiver run through her body. She walked toward him with a touch of awkwardness, feeling as though she had forgotten how to walk with everyone’s eyes pinned on her.
She stopped about two meters away from him, her eyes silently asking: What is it?
Cheng Liye seemed dissatisfied with the distance between them. His eyes darkened as he took a step forward to close the gap. “Why are you standing so far away?” He leaned down and whispered, “Afraid I’ll eat you?”
Sheng Mian asked again, her voice full of caution: “What exactly do you want?”
Seeing the wariness in her eyes, Cheng Liye felt a surge of irritation. He seemed troubled by the fact that she still hadn’t regained her memories. While he had been looking forward to seeing her reaction when she finally remembered him, the wait was making him restless. Seeing the Omega who used to follow him everywhere now looking at him like a total stranger was genuinely frustrating.
He had found her constant trailing annoying before, but now that her pursuit had abruptly stopped, he felt a strange, hollow void in his heart.
Cheng Liye looked at her with a complex, restrained expression. If he simply told her about their past relationship, perhaps everything would go back to the way it was. But that relationship.
He had only ever been a passive recipient of her pursuit; he had never even given her a gentle response. What kind of “relationship” was that?
Sheng Mian waited for a long time without hearing a word. Driven by genuine curiosity, she interrupted his internal brainstorm and asked clearly, “Do you owe me money?”
Sheng Mian figured that if Cheng Liye really owed her former self money, she absolutely had to get it back.
Cheng Liye’s gaze froze. His mind went blank for a second. Once he processed what she had asked, he let out a helpless, incredulous laugh. “Owe you money?”
“I don’t owe you anything. You’re the one who owes me.”
Sheng Mian stiffened, her voice trembling slightly. “How much do I owe you?” Please let it not be a huge amount, she prayed.
Cheng Liye didn’t answer. He slowly closed in on her, looking at her with a complicated intensity. She raised her hand to push against his approaching chest, her whole body leaning back in resistance.
Seeing her rejection—her fragile arm trying in vain to block him, Cheng Liye grew annoyed. He reached out and grabbed her forearm. Sheng Mian felt as if she had been burned by the Alpha’s large, dry palm; she tried to twist away, but she couldn’t move him an inch.
As Cheng Liye’s emotions fluctuated, his pheromones surged uncontrollably. He made no effort to suppress them, letting the dominant scent crash over Sheng Mian without restraint.
The crisp, sharp scent of blueberry mint instantly washed away the midday heat, but it also began to make Sheng Mian’s mind grow heavy and sluggish.
She began to struggle more fiercely, her eyes sharp with resentment. She seemed to find his pheromones utterly repulsive.
Cheng Liye suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia for her former self. In the past, if he released even a hint of his pheromones, Sheng Mian would stay by his side with a flushed face, practically begging for more. She had never looked at him with such disgust.
Irritated, he deliberately released even more.
From a short distance away, Qin Heng’s cursing and the sound of hurried footsteps approached: “Damn it! What the hell are you doing, just letting your pheromones loose like that?”