After being moved to tears by the sworn enemy's pheromones - Chapter 89

Gu Yu knew that what Shen Jin said about “not liking holidays,” “preferring that $6 game skin,” and “not needing other gifts” were all just excuses.

The last time Gu Yu gave Shen Jin a sports watch, Shen Jin was beyond thrilled, even folding the plastic wrap from the packaging neatly and placing it back in the box without throwing it away. It was clear he didn’t “not want it” at all.

Gifts represent care, and Shen Jin seldom received such care, so naturally, he did want them. However, considering their current situation, which for Gu Yu was akin to participating in a survival show, Shen Jin understood the importance of priorities. If it weren’t for his physical condition, he might have even considered busking on the street to let Gu Yu focus on his studies, never letting his delicate and proud little alpha get tired.

“Good thing I don’t have mind-reading powers; otherwise, I would’ve died of frustration from you nine times over, senior,” Gu Yu said as he wrapped an arm around Shen Jin’s waist. “First time I’ve heard of someone wanting just a $6 game skin for Valentine’s Day and calling it art.”

Such pure “spoiled wife” omega behavior would surely get a laugh out of people for the rest of the year if word got out. 

Shen Jin didn’t feel embarrassed about being exposed and insisted, “It *is* art.”

Gu Yu bent down, pulling him closer. “It’s wrong to make yourself suffer to accommodate others. Can you understand that, senior?” 

It was a lesson learned in kindergarten, but Gu Yu still had to keep teaching Shen Jin. Shen Jin stayed silent for a few seconds before struggling to respond, “I’m not suffering…”

But before he could finish, Gu Yu leaned in closer and said, “Mm, not suffering. You’re just so sad and disappointed that you were planning to cry all night while I was asleep, right?”

Shen Jin immediately looked up and glared at him, trying to refute, “No way! If it weren’t for the fact that New Year is only 300-some days away, I would’ve already punched you.”

Shen Jin’s glare was fierce, but Gu Yu held his wrist, making no attempt to dodge. The scent of strawberry wine from Gu Yu’s alpha body was warm and sweet, carrying the same sense of safety as his clear eyes. It pushed Shen Jin to retreat step by step until he finally looked away, speaking in a small voice, “I just saw Qin Zhu post about the chocolates Sen Zhou gave him in the group chat, and I felt a bit envious…”

According to Qin Zhu, it was handmade by some high-end pastry chef who had returned from studying in Europe. It sounded fancy, and it probably wasn’t cheap. He had already tossed it by the door. If He Senzhou liked, he could come pick it up himself.

Xu Tingyun, watching it all unfold, wanted to comment on the waste of “food” but didn’t dare say a word—otherwise, the slap that was meant for He Senzhou might land on him instead.

Shen Jin, too, didn’t dare provoke Qin Zhu. No matter how much envy he felt, he would never tell Gu Yu that he wanted such chocolates or anything like that.

But at this moment, with Gu Yu holding him, the warmth in Gu Yu’s grasp made Shen Jin blurt out again, “I like sweets, and I kind of want those chocolates, but you never bought them for me…”

For a moment, Shen Jin thought he must’ve gone crazy. After all, he’d already caused Gu Yu to work part-time in the freezing cold, and Gu Yu was willing to cover tens of thousands in medical bills for him. By all rights, if Gu Yu hadn’t thrown that cheap bracelet at his face by now, it would’ve been a miracle, and here Shen Jin was, still having complaints and demands.

Greedy, selfish, totally unlike him.

So the second the words left his mouth, Shen Jin regretted it. But Gu Yu just chuckled and said, “I thought senior would never say that in his whole life.”

Shen Jin looked up and saw the deep smile in Gu Yu’s eyes.

“Back during the New Year, I said you were making progress. That was premature of me,” Gu Yu said, studying Shen Jin like he was a rare species. “The phrase ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’ was something we learned in third grade, and I’d almost forgotten. Senior, were you about to say ‘I’m sorry, it’s too expensive, I shouldn’t have said something so outrageous, I don’t want it anymore’?”

“… I don’t think ‘outrageous’ is the right word here.” Shen Jin gave him a light punch, unwilling to admit defeat. “I was planning to kneel down, apologize, and kowtow to my dear husband. Is that okay?”

Gu Yu pulled Shen Jin closer and said, “Sure, go ahead, kowtow right now.” Shen Jin raised his fist, clearly ready to send Gu Yu to meet his ancestors—the two of them began to play-fight again. Shen Jin moved too abruptly and almost bumped the back of his head, but Gu Yu caught him in time and pulled him close.

The cold night was shut out by the warm light inside. As Shen Jin busied himself fixing his messy hair, Gu Yu suddenly said, “Senior, actually, I was the one who recommended that shop for Sen Zhou’s chocolates.”

No one understood better than Gu Yu that the long years had made Shen Jin lose his ability to be loved and to act spoiled. For many alphas, this might be seen as a great “advantage,” but Gu Yu didn’t want that. He wanted to give Shen Jin everything he could.

After all, they still had a long future ahead, and Gu Yu could teach him again and again, while Shen Jin could slowly learn.

A while passed before Shen Jin snapped back to reality, realizing a beautifully shaped box of chocolates had appeared in his hand.

Gu Yu, staring at him like a focused little wolf, said in his naturally cold tone with a coaxing warmth hidden in it, “Senior has some too, so no more feeling wronged, okay?”

Shen Jin’s throat bobbed slightly. He considered looking down to avoid it, denying that he’d ever felt wronged, or playing it off with a joke, but in the end, he just moved his jaw a little and softly said, “Mm, not wronged anymore…”

For the first time in twenty years, Shen Jin admitted his sadness and disappointment so openly.

It also made him realize once again that no matter what situations they found themselves in, he and Gu Yu would only get better.

Of course, before he could fully appreciate the finely crafted gift in his hand, he made sure to regain some of his dignity: “Next time, if you give it to me this late again, I’ll—I’ll throw it outside like Qin Zhu did.”

“Oh,” Gu Yu replied, feigning arrogance. “I’m not like He Senzhou, who’ll come running like a puppy. If you dare throw it, I’ll dare to leave.”

Shen Jin’s pretty eyes were full of doubt. “Really?”

“…” Gu Yu could only clear his throat and change the subject. “I’ve got something else to show you, senior.”

The lights shimmered as Gu Yu pulled out several suitcases from beside the wardrobe under Shen Jin’s puzzled gaze.

*

Alpha’s sudden rummaging through the boxes seemed a bit odd. Subconsciously clutching the chocolate in his hand, Shen Jin couldn’t help but wonder what he was looking for. Those suitcases appeared to be the ones Gu Yu had brought when he registered for college—perhaps even back then, Gu Yu had already prepared not to return home much for a few years, which explained the messiness.

Next, Gu Yu tossed out those “miscellaneous items” one after another and sat beside him.

Shen Jin was a little confused. “What is this?”

“…I don’t know either,” Gu Yu turned his head away. “Maybe it’s a gift from some Alpha that I should have given you a long time ago. You might as well take it; I won’t get jealous.”

“Huh?” Shen Jin was confused for half a second before Gu Yu casually handed him a few cans of snacks and said, “These were bought during our sophomore year Valentine’s Day. Not sure if they’re expired.”

In front of him were two large cans of seaweed rolls that are easy to preserve—rare mint yogurt flavored ones, which were discontinued because they tasted so bad. But Shen Jin, with his unique taste, used to love them.

“…Wow,” Shen Jin’s previously dazed eyes instantly brightened. “Where did you get these? I couldn’t even find them on the official store online.”

Gu Yu, expressionless, replied, “I already told you, I didn’t buy them.”

“Oh.” Shen Jin teased him, “But someone as pure and loyal as me can’t accept gifts from other Alphas. Even when my buddies offer me cigarettes or ask me to join them in ranked matches, I always ask for your permission first, don’t I?”

Gu Yu was silent for a few seconds, finally staring at the wall and admitting, “Fine, I picked them out of the trash. Who in their right mind would like mint yogurt flavored seaweed? Even toothpaste tastes better.”

Shen Jin chuckled softly and didn’t press Gu Yu further. He “snatched” the seaweed and stashed it in the bedside drawer, being stingy. “I’ll eat it all by myself then. You’re not allowed to touch it.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather drink poison.”

Gu Yu continued to open another box, taking out a pair of boldly colored shoes.

Shen Jin glanced over and asked, puzzled, “These shoes… you actually have a pair in purple and white?”

Shen Jin remembered this style—an exclusive limited edition—and Gu Yu had a pair in dark blue. He had seen Gu Yu wear them many times on the basketball court. In fact, when Shen Jin had secretly planned to buy a “matching pair,” he initially chose this one, but after seeing the price, he realized he might need to be reborn to afford them.

“18,600 yuan.” Shen Jin remembered the number clearly. “You could peel off my skin and make shoes, and it still wouldn’t be worth that much. And you bought two pairs?”

Gu Yu’s tone was calm. “They were 20% off for two pairs.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Shen Jin fiddled with the shoes for a while, unable to help but sigh, “I can’t imagine you wearing this color.”

Gu Yu usually preferred dark colors; it was impossible for him to buy something in fluorescent purple.

“They were for my niece, but she didn’t like such a cute color,” Gu Yu said. “What a shame. I thought I might give them to my senior as an apology for the time I hurt you on the court and said those awful things.”

Shen Jin stared blankly for a few seconds, leaning closer. “Isn’t your niece only 8 years old? How does she wear a size 42?”

At close range, Gu Yu’s nervousness became apparent, and he pushed him away. “…Kids’ body types vary, you know.”

Shen Jin suppressed his laughter, not wanting to make it too obvious. “So… why didn’t you end up apologizing?”

He already knew the reason as he asked.

The conflict on the court, the cold disregard and sarcasm in the infirmary—it was the deepest wound Gu Yu had inflicted on him. Just over this, Shen Jin had secretly cried a few times and stayed away from Gu Yu for days. 

Thinking back, Gu Yu must have been terrified, thinking he had truly lost him. But back then, Shen Jin simply thought he was overly emotional. After all, one can’t possibly fall for their sworn enemy, right? So within two weeks, he was back to his old self, teasing Gu Yu again, and the gifts Gu Yu had bought were left undelivered.

Alpha’s voice sounded a bit hoarse. “Senior, you already know.”

Suddenly, an unexpected embrace surrounded him, and Shen Jin felt like his bones were about to be crushed, but he let Gu Yu hold him. “Alright, senior knows everything.”

The warm light filled the room, and the Alpha’s breath surrounded him, enveloping him quietly. 

Shen Jin gently ruffled Gu Yu’s soft, dark hair, pretending not to notice that this Alpha was on the verge of tears. “So, Little Strawberry knew that senior liked purple all along? I think you deserve a big red flower for that.”

After finally loosening his grip, Gu Yu managed to steady his voice but still wouldn’t admit it. “You always pick a purple pen from a pile of black ones to fill out forms. It was too obvious.”

Shen Jin didn’t care to listen to him. Instead, he leaned weakly onto Gu Yu’s lap, feigning fragility. “Even remembering senior’s pen color—this shows the purity and sincerity of love. You deserve another red flower.”

Unable to dodge, Gu Yu’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to speak, so he simply wrapped his arm around Shen Jin’s waist to help him lie down more comfortably.

After resting for a while, Shen Jin finally let him go and picked up another box that had spilled open nearby. Inside were several scrolls, and it was hard to make sense of them at first glance. 

They were filled with densely packed calligraphy, the strokes bold and sharp. It was clear that they were Gu Yu’s work. Although Gu Yu usually wrote quickly and messily, when he took it seriously, he had even won a calligraphy prize at a Youth Day talent competition. Looking at the elegant lines of cursive script, Shen Jin was confused. “These are all Chinese characters, but why can’t I make sense of them?”

The only thing he could understand was his own name in the dedication, which indicated that all these were gifts for him.

He tilted his head, seeking an explanation, but the Alpha circled him from behind, his ears red. “Just practice pieces… the content doesn’t matter.”

Since Gu Yu said so, it must be something important.  

“It wouldn’t be cursing me, right?” Shen Jin pretended to ponder, lowering his head. “Doesn’t look like an acrostic poem either… I’ll take a picture later and send it to the group to see if anyone can understand it.”  

“…Don’t you dare.” As expected, Gu Yu immediately tightened his hold on him, his chin brushing against Shen Jin’s ear, making it itch. “It’s meant for your eyes only.”  

If Shen Jin hadn’t persistently asked, Gu Yu would never have admitted that this was a collection of famous love poems from the *Book of Songs* that he copied down years ago on a whim.  

He had overheard his classmates discussing that there was a belief online: if you copied all these poems and gave them to the person you loved, you’d get a perfect ending and be together forever.  

Of course, the wicked Shen Jin wasn’t the person he loved. 

Gu Yu had written the poems backward, only hoping to stay far away from Shen Jin for the rest of his life and never be together.  

At first glance, the poems spanned at least a thousand characters—following such a silly trend was completely out of character for the Gu Yu Shen Jin knew.  

“You…” Shen Jin was dumbfounded, “I’m sorry, I underestimated the greatness of our love.”  

The alpha behind him could only muster a single defense: “You were the one bullying me, I couldn’t wait for you to leave me alone.”  

Shen Jin muttered, “And here I am wondering who’s the one that can’t shake me off even after going to university,” and then asked, “Can you write them again, but the right way, and give them to me?”  

“No.” Gu Yu rejected it decisively. “That kind of useless stuff should be burned to keep warm.”  

“Oh.” Shen Jin knew this meant it was a possibility, so he teasingly rubbed Gu Yu’s reddened ear in return. “If you keep disobeying, I’ll make you copy *Zizhi Tongjian* for me.”  

He didn’t care how wronged the alpha felt. Instead, he continued to rummage through the boxes, trying to see what else was inside.  

But among all the random fancy packaging, it was two small slips of paper that caught his attention, stopping him in his tracks. He couldn’t believe his eyes.  

It was the ticket stubs for the World Finals held in Shenzhen three years ago, and judging by the color, it was from the central area of the venue.  

Since that year was the first time the Worlds chose a venue in China, these tickets were impossible to get, even from scalpers.  

“Holy…” It took Shen Jin a few seconds to recover his speech. “How did you get these? Did you cheat?”  

The memory of the ticketing system crash and the collective lament of the entire internet was still fresh in his mind—it had taken up six or seven trending spots. But Gu Yu was nonchalant: “I just clicked, submitted the order, and bought them. Was it that hard?”  

This guy’s luck was beyond mere cheating. Shen Jin felt a sharp pang in his chest. “Was this also something you planned to give me?”  

Back then, his favorite player, DK, had won the world championship and MVP at the Shenzhen Bay Sports Center. He wished he hadn’t seen the ticket stub. Meanwhile, Gu Yu, still acting aloof, said, “I got them while testing my new computer’s performance. I thought about doing a good deed and putting them on your desk, but then you came back for water and accused me of trying to poison you.”  

Shen Jin opened his mouth, and after recalling the incident, he remembered: “That time, you were sneaking around, and I thought you were trying to poison my cup.”  

Gu Yu held him tightly, lips pursed, finally managing to say a few words: “Hmm… should’ve put something to make you mute so you wouldn’t bother me every day.”  

Shen Jin rubbed his forehead, taking a while to recover, feeling a little jealous. “So, who did you end up going with?”  

Two tickets—whoever Gu Yu answered, Shen Jin would have to make a fuss about it.  

If it were Song Yizhi, he wouldn’t speak to Gu Yu for three days. But Gu Yu replied, “Back then, I wasn’t that into esports, so I sent Jiang Lan and Tao Yan, who came to make peace with me. I think they took like 50 gigabytes of photos. If you want, you can ask them for some.”  

“No thanks, I don’t want to be sent to the hospital on the spot.” Shen Jin took a deep breath and dramatically collapsed into Gu Yu’s chest. “Next time I see them, I want every high-res DK photo they’ve got.”  

“…I’ll ask Jiang Lan to delete all of DK’s photos later,” Gu Yu muttered, shaking Shen Jin’s “fragile” body. “Your senior hasn’t even seen them yet.”  

No choice, Shen Jin got up and opened a few more boxes.  

Inside one was the keyboard he’d been eyeing for a long time, with custom light purple keycaps on the S and J keys. When he asked if those were the initials of his name, Gu Yu said they were supposed to be S and B, but the manufacturer messed up the custom order.  

There was also a plush cat doll worth over 2,000 yuan. Shen Jin had always thought its serious expression oddly resembled Gu Yu’s, so he had casually liked a post about it. Now, the real thing was even cuter than the official images, but the ribbon on its front legs had some English words cleverly scratched out, leaving only faint traces of “love.”  

On the other side was a DK team jacket with a personal signature from the player, from three years ago—the iconic blue and black from that season. Shen Jin excitedly asked how he got it, and Gu Yu casually replied, “I didn’t buy it; it’s the one DK wore during the championship.”  

Shen Jin vividly remembered that jacket being given to a lucky audience member in Row 4, Seat 58 of Section C during the post-match interview. He quickly checked the ticket stub again, and in an instant, shot up with newfound energy, hugging and kissing Gu Yu like he wanted to devour him.  

Gu Yu held his waist, clearly unimpressed with his excitement: “…So, does the senior like him or me more?”  

Without even thinking, Shen Jin replied, “Hey, don’t ask questions that would hurt team unity.”  

Gu Yu tightened his grip and gave him a shake, scaring Shen Jin into quickly placating him: “I like you the most, like you the most—how about we nap together sometime?”  

It was clear that for almost every important occasion, Gu Yu had Shen Jin on his mind and had prepared many things, though none of them had ever made it into Shen Jin’s hands.  

Back then, Gu Yu probably hadn’t sorted out his feelings, consumed by denial and avoidance. If Shen Jin hadn’t persistently chased him all the way to university, these things would have remained sealed away forever.  

Even when they got together a few months ago, Gu Yu hadn’t been able to fully face his past self and hand them over.  

Feeling a mix of helplessness and heartache, Shen Jin couldn’t help but ask, “Gu Yu… why do you like me so much?”  

Before the words had even left his mouth, he knew it was a dumb question.  

So, before Gu Yu could answer, he quickly added, “There are some things I’ve been curious about for a long time. Can you answer them?”  

Gu Yu thought for half a second, then quickly responded, “I can.”