After being moved to tears by the sworn enemy's pheromones - Chapter 36

He knew he should find the real answer.

 

Shen Jin leaned comfortably against him, replying lazily, “Okay… until I find another alpha, I’ll let you hold me.”

 

Gu Yu, rarely following his heart, coldly laughed, “Is this a lifelong promise from you, senior?”

 

Shen Jin clicked his tongue and asked, “Who do you think you’re looking down on? At least there’s an alpha who likes me even in a same-A relationship…”

 

Gu Yu raised his eyes slightly, “Who? Besides Yan Ze from the sports department, is there someone I don’t know?”

 

Jealous? He pouted, telling himself: unlikely, but I can note it down and observe.

 

Shen Jin mumbled for a while, then answered, “A 19-year-old viewer from my livestream… He said he’s an alpha, and I feel… he seems to have a special interest in me.”

 

Gu Yu forced a smile, barely maintaining his expression, “What’s special about an alpha who throws money at streamers everywhere?”

 

Trying to show his displeasure, Shen Jin still countered, “But he only watches my livestream… Last week he even said he’s also from City C.”

 

Gu Yu stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, then replied, “He must be lying to you.”

 

Shen Jin coughed lightly and pulled away a bit, asking, “Why are you always targeting him?”

 

His active withdrawal left Gu Yu slightly stunned.

 

Suppressing his frustration, Gu Yu pulled him back forcefully before replying, “…Because I’m sick.”

 

Shen Jin, being held tightly, could only shrink his neck and shoulders, matching Gu Yu’s strength.

 

He planned to ask Gu Yu to be gentler, but Gu Yu preemptively said, “I don’t want to be gentle.”

 

Feeling his thoughts read, Shen Jin had no choice but to compromise, leaning against Gu Yu’s chest and dropping the subject of the young alpha.

 

Drowsy and unable to think deeply about the source of Gu Yu’s strange possessiveness, Shen Jin knew he had to be soothing and accommodating at this moment. So, he rubbed his forehead against Gu Yu’s chin, reassuring him, “Don’t be angry, no other alpha is as cute as you. Stay with me while I sleep, okay?”

 

“…I’m not cute.” The other proudly raised his chin, avoiding his gaze, and after a while, answered, “Go to sleep.”

 

Shen Jin secretly laughed for a while and soon fell asleep in Gu Yu’s arms.

 

The topic of the 19-year-old viewer didn’t continue. Though Gu Yu felt sour inside, he gently laid Shen Jin down and carefully covered him with a blanket.

 

The autumn and winter night was chilly, and he too should have slept.

 

But that night, he had no intention of sleeping.

 

He stayed by Shen Jin’s side, checking if he was sleeping well, confirming the window’s closure, and noting things to buy on his memo.

 

Without a trace of sleepiness, as dawn approached, he propped his hot face on one hand and pulled out his phone with the other, searching for what he considered the dumbest questions in the coolest manner:

 

How to tell if you like someone.

 

Is it possible to like your enemy.

 

What’s the chance of a streamer liking their viewer.

 

What to do if your omega cares more about others.

 

How to steal love.

 

Top ten honeymoon destinations.

 

What to do if a male rabbit gets pregnant…

 

Realizing the absurdity of his search queries, he snapped out of it, covered his face with the phone, and feeling a historical injustice, held Shen Jin’s hand under the blanket, accusingly saying, “It’s unlikely I like senior… or get jealous of myself.”

 

Despite his words, after half a minute, he pulled out his right hand, resolutely opened WeChat Moments, and posted a new status.

 

*

 

The next day, Shen Jin woke up to find a young doctor by his side.

 

The doctor was explaining something to Gu Yu. Seeing Shen Jin awake, the topic naturally shifted to him.

 

“Stay in the hospital for another 3 to 5 days for observation. If there are no issues, you can be discharged,” the doctor said. “Be more careful in the future. If you were brought in any later, this case might have been handed to the ICU.”

 

High fever can have serious consequences. The doctor’s tone was partly joking, partly a reminder.

 

Shen Jin originally wanted to joke back, “As long as it’s not handed to the mortuary,” but seeing Gu Yu’s worried expression, he restrained himself and obediently said, “Okay, thank you, doctor.”

 

The accompanying nurse set up his IV. Gu Yu sat down, covering Shen Jin’s hand with his, saying, “IVs are cold in winter. In ten minutes, your hand can turn purple from the cold. Covering it helps.”

 

Unlike many young people who get disoriented in hospitals and might not even know how to register, Gu Yu was evidently more familiar with the place than his age suggested.

 

He could read the medical details, knew how to change IV bottles, knew where to get hot water, and even recognized the “alien script” on the prescriptions.

 

The saying “a long illness makes the patient a doctor” seemed more applicable to the patient’s family.

 

Shen Jin, clearer than yesterday, felt the warmth from his hand and a pang in his heart.

 

Before, he had only vaguely heard that Gu Yu’s mu-ba died of a severe illness, without much concept. But seeing Gu Yu’s meticulous care now made him feel distressed.

 

At that time, Gu Yu was only about 14, a sensitive and fragile age, yet he had to endure the cruelest mental torment and separation from a loved one. The repressed despair he experienced was hard to describe.

 

“Gu Yu,” Shen Jin softly called his name, “I’m not afraid of the cold… You should eat something first.”

 

If he guessed correctly, Gu Yu hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

 

However, Gu Yu showed no signs of depression or aversion to the hospital. Instead, he asked, “Looking at your medical record, you say you’re not afraid of the cold?”

 

Gu Yu pinched Shen Jin’s hand in defiance, startling him back to his senses. “Easy… cough cough, at my age, how can I spend every day arguing with you?”

 

“Go find another alpha then,” Gu Yu replied with a slight flick of Shen Jin’s wrist. “Don’t worry, I won’t mess with the IV. Qin Zhu and Xu Tingyun will bring food soon.”

 

Shen Jin wanted to pull his hand back but was held firmly. He started to get nervous: when their two roommates arrived, it wouldn’t just end with Gu Yu’s few words.

 

Sure enough, when Qin Zhu and Xu Tingyun entered the ward at noon, their faces were quite sour.

 

Xu Tingyun looked at the IV and said sternly, “Honestly, Shen Jin, I’ve played countless MOBA games with millions of online players, but I’ve never seen anyone as good at feeding the enemy as you.”

 

Qin Zhu put down the food and said, “I regret not listening to our teacher and reading more books. If I had gotten one more question right on the physics exam, I wouldn’t have met a roommate like you.”

 

But this time, Shen Jin knew he had back-up, so he coughed weakly and bit his lip pitifully. Gu Yu indeed spoke up, “Don’t blame him. It’s partly my fault too.”

 

Qin Zhu was blunt, “Your fault is not locking him in the basement for daily exercise and calisthenics.”

 

Xu Tingyun unwrapped the utensils, “I brought some porridge and side dishes, eat something first.”

 

Shen Jin didn’t dare retort and urged Gu Yu, “You should eat, too. Room 302 can’t suffer.”

 

But Gu Yu covered Shen Jin’s hand with a towel, mixed the porridge and side dishes, and fed him, “Open your mouth, slowly.”

 

Putting aside old grudges, Gu Yu was indeed a gentle and responsible alpha. At least, he didn’t seem to mind taking care of a patient seriously.

 

With the IV still in his hand, Shen Jin couldn’t move much. He blushed as he swallowed the food Gu Yu fed him, unable to imagine Qin Zhu and Xu Tingyun’s expressions.

 

Of course, those two were neither mute nor blind and wouldn’t let him off the hook.

 

Xu Tingyun said seriously, “I’m starting to doubt the real reason for your fever, Shen Jin.”

 

Qin Zhu added sarcastically, “Is this a classic Stockholm syndrome case? Should I ask the doctor if interns can come and learn?”

 

Shen Jin avoided their eyes in panic, but Gu Yu grabbed his face and continued feeding him.

 

Fortunately, Qin Zhu and Xu Tingyun didn’t intend to make things too difficult. One tidied the clothes they brought, while the other checked the bills, “Did you pay the fees, junior?”

 

“Yes,” Gu Yu replied, keeping an eye on Shen Jin, “He got sick at my place, so I should pay.”

 

Xu Tingyun put down the bill, a bit concerned, “Over 3000… I’ll transfer it to you. I’m afraid you won’t have enough for the month.”

 

Although they knew Gu Yu’s family was well-off, they were all just students. Gu Yu had paid Shen Jin’s wages and medical bills. Though he wouldn’t go broke, his spending plans would be disrupted.

 

But Gu Yu calmly answered, “It’s fine, I have enough. I still have 100,000 left this term.”

 

“What?” Shen Jin nearly choked, “Is that all your living expenses?”

 

Gu Yu patted his back, unconcerned, “That’s on the lower side. Or what did you think we were eating that day at the resort?”

 

Shen Jin recalled the most expensive meal he’d ever had, on Jiang Lan’s birthday. He felt defeated, thinking: When will I ever earn that much? He wondered if any top teams needed a part-time comedian to cheer up their players…

 

Gu Yu seemed to read his mind, saying, “It’s not money I earned myself. Honestly, I’m not as good as you.”

 

Shen Jin pouted, “I know I’m not…”

 

Gu Yu, unusually accommodating, said, “Yes, you’re the best… Rest for half an hour before taking your medicine, okay?”

 

Being sick had its privileges, but to this extent?

 

Shen Jin was extremely anxious, and Gu Yu even asked Qin Zhu, “Did you get the hawthorn candies?”

 

Seeing Qin Zhu nod, Shen Jin was mortified, feeling like a child who needed candy to take medicine. 

 

In the past, Gu Yu giving him painkillers and candies didn’t seem odd. But now, in front of his roommates, he couldn’t lift his head.

 

Amidst the teasing, Shen Jin’s ears turned almost transparent red. If not for the nurse coming to remove the IV, he felt he might have another fever.

 

A few minutes later, as Qin Zhu tidied up and checked his phone, he asked, “Gu Yu, did you post on Moments last night?”

 

Xu Tingyun glanced over, equally surprised, “Did the sun rise from the west?”

 

Normally, Gu Yu wouldn’t even open Moments.

 

Qin Zhu, scrolling through a few apps, was even more puzzled, “Same content on QQ and TikTok?”

 

Gu Yu rarely used short video apps, having only downloaded them after a trip to a theme park. Who knows what he watched.

 

For once, Gu Yu looked a bit guilty, “Just occasionally.”

 

Shen Jin, feeling lost without his phone, asked to borrow Gu Yu’s, “What did you post… can I see?”

 

Gu Yu hesitated for the first time before handing it over, “Nothing important.”

 

“Nothing important? It could make headlines.” Shen Jin checked, finding the content quite ordinary compared to the act of posting itself. 

 

It was just photos from a few days ago—Gu Yu, perhaps bored while doing exercises, had taken nine photos of his left hand, filling the post.

 

Posting photos of his hand in the middle of the night?

 

Shen Jin was puzzled, thinking: His fingers are long and strong, his wrist clean and lean, good-looking for sure, but why did Gu Yu post it?