The morning rain fell in soft sheets over Beijing University, drumming a steady rhythm against the glass dome of the business building. Thick clouds painted the sky a dull gray, the entire campus soaked in a melancholic chill.
Inside Lecture Hall B4, warmth and hushed murmurs filled the room. Students gathered in small clusters, exchanging notes or gossiping under their breath. The air buzzed faintly with the mix of scents — perfumes, deodorants, and subtle pheromones muted by blockers.
Suddenly—
SLAM.
The back door burst open with a gust of cold wind and the smell of rain.
Wei Ying stumbled in — late again. His black hair clung messily to his forehead, strands dripping with water. A faded, inside-out hoodie hung off one shoulder like he didn’t even realize — or didn’t care.
With a dramatic groan, he flung his messenger bag onto the last row and dropped himself into the seat like gravity had personally offended him.
He rubbed his temples and mumbled under his breath.
Wei Ying (grumbling):
“Professor Xu’s voice is more effective than melatonin… I should've just stayed in bed.”
The students nearby gave side glances — not just for his loud entrance, but because something else had shifted.
A soft bloom of scent — warm, sweet, and slightly spicy — began to spread.
An Omega’s scent.
Several Alphas in the lecture hall shifted in their seats, stiffening. Their eyes darted to the back row. Some adjusted their blockers. Others simply turned away, trying to stay focused.
Wei Ying sighed, popping a piece of mint gum into his mouth, oblivious to the discomfort he was causing.
Or maybe he just didn’t care.
Then—
The front doors opened.
This time, silence fell like a blade.
The soft click of leather shoes echoed against the polished floor.
A tall man stepped in, holding a black umbrella folded neatly at his side. He wore a tailored grey overcoat over a crisp shirt, his hair slicked back immaculately.
His expression?
Cold. Composed. Dangerous.
Like he didn’t belong here — like this university was just a temporary cover for something darker.
Lan Zhan.
An Alpha whose name no one dared whisper too loud. New to campus, always alone, and the kind of man who drew stares without trying.
He scanned the room once, his eyes as sharp as obsidian.
Then, without a word, he strode past every empty bench.
And stopped.
Right beside Wei Ying.
The Omega blinked without lifting his head, already sensing the overpowering presence standing next to him.
Lan Zhan (calm, low voice):
“Move.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
Wei Ying let out a soft laugh, barely glancing up.
Wei Ying:
“Excuse you? Is your name engraved on this bench or something, Mr. Iceface?”
A few students turned to look, eyes wide. Tension spiked instantly.
Lan Zhan said nothing.
He simply stared — eyes cool and unreadable, face carved from stone.
Wei Ying slowly looked up — and froze.
Their eyes met.
In that second, the world faded.
All Wei Ying could hear was his own breath.
Alpha.
Omega.
A spark of recognition passed between them — primal, electric, inevitable.
Wei Ying’s heart gave a traitorous thump.
That scent.
So clean. So cold.
Like black ink brushed over rice paper — precise, poised, controlled… but capable of staining everything it touched.
He swallowed hard but smirked, covering the sudden rush in his chest with attitude.
Wei Ying (teasing):
“…Fine. Sit down. But if you bite, I bite back.”
Lan Zhan didn’t flinch. He simply sat down beside him, moving with the grace of a man who always knew his surroundings — like even in a lecture hall, he was prepared to kill or protect.
He didn’t speak again.
Didn’t need to.
Wei Ying turned away, trying to act unaffected.
But his heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
For the first time in a long while…
Someone had looked at him like they knew him.
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