I made it three whole hours without thinking about Wen Xiao’s knee.
Then my bandmate leaned over during practice and sniffed the air like a dog.
“Linling,” she whispered, eyes wide, “why do you smell like an Alpha who just marked someone?”
I almost dropped my guitar.
“I do not,” I said too fast.
She raised both eyebrows. “You absolutely do. It’s all over your hoodie. Heavy. Kinda smug. Is that… Wen Xiao?”
I wanted the floor to open and swallow me. Instead I glared at her until she raised her hands in surrender and went back to tuning her bass. The rest of practice was a disaster. I missed two cues and sang flat on the chorus because every time I breathed I caught the faint leftover scent of that morning. Wen Xiao’s scent. On me. Like a brand I never asked for.
By the time we finished I was ready to burn the hoodie.
I changed in the bathroom, scrubbed my neck with wet paper towels, and still felt dirty. Not the fun kind. The “I came on my sister’s knee and now the whole band can smell it” kind.
University was supposed to be my escape. Instead I walked out of the music building and straight into the last person I wanted to see.
Wen Xiao stood near the basketball courts with a water bottle in one hand and a towel around her neck. Her teammates were laughing about something. She looked perfectly normal. Calm. Unaffected. Like she had not spent the morning motorboating my chest and calling me Mama.
Our eyes met.
She smirked.
I turned around so fast I almost walked into a pole.
Of course she followed.
“Running away?” she called, jogging up beside me like we were friends.
“I am going to class,” I said through my teeth.
“Your next class is on the other side of campus.”
I hated that she knew my schedule.
We walked in silence for ten steps before she opened her mouth again.
“About this morning-”
“We are not talking about this morning.”
“You came pretty hard for someone who claims it meant nothing.”
I stopped walking. Turned. Looked her dead in the eye.
“Say one more word and I will tell your coach you cried during the last game because you scraped your knee.”
Her expression flickered. “You would not.”
“Try me, jiejie.”
The old title slipped out before I could stop it. We both froze. For a second the air between us felt heavier than usual. Then Wen Xiao’s face shut down. She clicked her tongue, shoved her hands in her pockets, and walked past me without another word.
Good.
I spent the rest of the day pretending my heart was not beating too fast.
When evening came I had no choice. The credit card rule was still active. If either of us failed to check in at the apartment by midnight, both of us lost everything. So I dragged myself back to the luxurious prison our father had designed.
The apartment smelled like her the moment I opened the door. Basketball gear was dumped near the entrance. A half-empty protein shake sat on the kitchen counter. The television was on, muted, showing some sports channel.
Wen Xiao was on the terrace.
She stood with her back to me, arms on the railing, city lights reflecting off her hair. She did not turn around when I stepped outside.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Practice ran long.”
“Band again?”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched. The night air was cool. Somewhere below us a car horn sounded.
I leaned against the opposite side of the railing, as far from her as the terrace allowed.
“We need rules,” I said eventually.
She glanced at me. “For what?”
“The bed. The bathroom. The fact that you apparently sleepwalk into motorboating people.”
A faint flush rose on her neck. She looked away quickly.
“I do not sleepwalk.”
“Then what do you call this morning?”
“A mistake.”
“A very wet mistake.”
She shot me a look that was half glare, half warning. I smiled sweetly, the same smile I used when I was about to win an argument.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Rules. You get the left side of the bed. I get the right. No touching. No scenting. No… whatever that was.”
“And if it happens again?”
“It will not.”
“You sound very sure for someone who called me Mama less than twelve hours ago.”
Wen Xiao pushed off the railing and walked past me, shoulder brushing mine on purpose.
“Keep talking, Linling,” she said without looking back. “See what happens the next time you fall asleep first.”
The door slid shut behind her.
I stayed on the terrace a little longer, heart stupidly loud in my chest, and told myself the only reason my face felt hot was the night wind.
Inside, the apartment waited. One bedroom. One bed. And an Alpha who already knew exactly how I sounded when I came.