Afraid of Alphas, but Pregnant with an Alpha’s Child - Chapter 7

As the chill of early spring faded into a balmy breeze, Jiang Cheng was fortunate enough to snag a spot in the final wave of spring admissions. On opening day, he was at the school gates right on time.

That morning, Chengcheng watched the bright sun with a tragic expression as he climbed into the car. He clung piteously to the window, completely ignoring his father’s gentle coaxing about how “preschool is fun” and “there will be so many new friends,” or the promises that “Daddy and Uncle will be here to pick you up the moment school is out.”

He looked like a martyr marching toward his doom.

At the preschool, a young male teacher was greeting students at the entrance. Jiang Qiu led Chengcheng toward him while Lu Mingshen followed a few paces behind.

Just as they reached the gates, Chengcheng suddenly let go of his father’s hand. He scurried back a few steps and stood solemnly in front of Lu Mingshen, thrusting a small, tear-stained fist directly into the man’s palm.

Lu Mingshen squeezed the tiny hand. It was chubby and a bit sticky not exactly the most pleasant texture, but he didn’t mind.

With a hand in each of theirs, Chengcheng forced himself to look up, bracing himself as if for an execution.

Jiang Qiu stifled a laugh and knelt to wipe the tear tracks from his son’s cheeks. He pointed to the clock on his phone. “Look, baby. When this short, fat hand points right to the middle, Daddy will be standing right here at the gate to take you home. Okay?”

Chengcheng sniffled, looking at his father with a hollow, silent gaze.

“When has Daddy ever lied to you?” Jiang Qiu asked.

Chengcheng’s voice was thick with resentment. “Back at the daycare, Daddy said he’d come see me, but he was always late.”

Jiang Qiu: “…” “That was… circumstances, baby. Just circumstances. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

But Chengcheng didn’t care about “circumstances.” He gripped the hem of his father’s shirt tightly, terrified that Jiang Qiu would leave him at preschool and never come back, just like before. His little face crumpled as he fought back tears, his eyes rimmed with red.

In that moment, Jiang Qiu felt as if that tiny hand was squeezing his own heart. A wave of heartache washed over him. He was seconds away from scooping his son up and declaring, “Forget it, we’re going home! We don’t need preschool! I won’t spend a single second away from you who cares about the tuition? I’ll work myself to the bone to pay it back!”

Before he could move, however, someone tugged at his sleeve.

Lu Mingshen knelt, resting a hand on Chengcheng’s shoulder. He crooked a finger and gently poked the boy’s red eyes. “What’s a Little Superman doing crying like this?”

Chengcheng pouted. “I’m not a Superman.”

Jiang Qiu chimed in from the side, “Of course you are! Didn’t you say you were going to be a hero and protect Daddy?”

“Supermen are strong. I’m not,” Chengcheng sobbed. “If Daddy disappears again, how am I supposed to protect him?”

“Daddy won’t disappear. I promise,” Lu Mingshen said, extending his pinky. “Pinky swear. If Daddy isn’t here, I will definitely be at this gate at three o’clock sharp.”

Chengcheng absentmindedly hooked his pinky around Lu’s, but then his eyes went wide. “Why wouldn’t Daddy be here?!”

“Maybe he’s buying you ice cream, or maybe he’s stuck in traffic, or maybe he accidentally overslept. You have to allow for these little accidents,” Lu Mingshen explained patiently.

Chengcheng nodded tentatively. He looked up at Jiang Qiu and realized his father’s eyes had turned red, too. He remembered that before they met Uncle Lu, every time Daddy came to see him, his eyes were always red like a little rabbit’s. But this rabbit didn’t eat grass; he produced snacks and toys instead.

During the days he didn’t have his father, his father didn’t have him either.

At that thought, Chengcheng wiped his face with his sleeve and forced himself to stop crying. “I understand, Uncle. I’m a Little Superman. I’ll be brave.”

He paused, then added, “Even if I’m scared or miss Daddy, I’ll try my best to hold it in.” He looked at Lu Mingshen. “Uncle, I’ll miss you too.” So don’t be jealous.

Lu Mingshen patted his head. Having comforted his “uncle,” Chengcheng threw himself into his father’s arms, heedless of the fact that he was smearing snot and tears all over the new shirt Jiang Qiu had bought specifically for the occasion. After soaking in his father’s scent one last time, he decisively let go. He reached for the teacher’s hand and gave a lonely little wave as he walked away.

Round, chubby, and utterly piteous.

On the drive back, a notification chimed on Lu Mingshen’s phone: the paternity test results had arrived.

“Do you want to pull over?” Jiang Qiu asked. He knew Lu Mingshen must care about the result nobody wanted to be a “sucker” raising someone else’s kid.

Lu Mingshen shook his head. He was already certain Chengcheng was his. But Jiang Qiu was staring at him intently. As the car merged into the main road, Lu Mingshen handed him the phone.

“Why don’t you check for me? If you don’t mind,” Lu Mingshen said, holding the phone toward him. He recited a four-digit passcode.

Jiang Qiu unlocked the phone and skipped past the long preamble, heading straight for the conclusion.

[Result Statement] Based on the DNA analysis, Lu Mingshen is supported as the biological father of Jiang Cheng. Institute of Forensic Science (Seal).

Both of them already knew the truth, so there was no big reaction. But a moment later, Jiang Qiu’s phone rang. The caller ID read: “Dr. Chen.”

It was his psychiatrist.

The black sedan made a U-turn at the next intersection, heading in the opposite direction.

Eighth Floor, City No. 7 Psychiatric Hospital. Dr. Chen, the Chief Physician, was on duty.

Despite having visited this place countless times over the past five years, the sterile smell of disinfectant still made Jiang Qiu instinctively tense. Lu Mingshen had business at the office, so Jiang Qiu had sent him away.

As soon as he entered the office, he was greeted by the familiar scent of lemon. Dr. Chen sat behind the desk with a practiced, gentle smile. “Mr. Jiang, please, have a seat.”

The doctor turned his monitor toward him to show the latest report. “Look here. Your anxiety levels are significantly lower than they were six months ago. The frequency of your psychosomatic symptoms has dropped, and your tolerance toward Alpha pheromones has improved remarkably. The treatment is working. How are you feeling?”

“You messaged me saying you encountered the ‘root’ of your trauma… has he made things better or worse for you?”

Jiang Qiu recounted everything since the day he found Lu Mingshen. Dr. Chen’s expressions shifted rapidly furrowed brows, warm smiles, inquisitive looks until his facial muscles looked ready to cramp.

“Dr. Chen…?”

“Mr. Jiang,” Dr. Chen said slowly. “If Mr. Lu tries to get close to you say, touches your hand or offers a hug how do you think your body would react?”

“Minor physical contact isn’t as repulsive as it used to be. And he’s never tried to cross any lines,” Jiang Qiu paused. “But I think, subconsciously, I’m still terrified of intimacy. Perhaps I’m afraid that night will repeat itself… regardless of who the person is.”

Dr. Chen nodded. “I stand by my previous assessment: the key to your ‘Alpha Phobia’ lies with Mr. Lu. There are two paths now. First, we use your tolerance of him for ‘exposure therapy’—practicing being together in a controlled environment to gradually desensitize you. Second, you cut him off completely to avoid the trigger. After all, you can already interact normally with other Alphas now.”

Jiang Qiu didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take the first one.” A child needs both his parents.

“Understood. We can look into tapering your medication moving from twice a day to once. How has your sleep been lately?”

It was a standard medical inquiry, yet Jiang Qiu felt as though his psyche was suspended by a single, thin thread. If he relaxed even slightly, everything would shatter. Dr. Chen noticed his tension and tried to reassure him that “everything would be fine,” but it did little to help. Perhaps this was just who he was now; some things were beyond medicine.

When he finally left the office, Lu Mingshen was standing by the window on a call. He was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, his back to Jiang Qiu. His dark suit emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist—relaxed, yet commanding.

Sensing Jiang Qiu’s presence, Lu Mingshen made a gesture for him to wait.

Jiang Qiu gestured back, mouthing: Why didn’t you leave?

Lu Mingshen lowered his eyes. He naturally reached out and smoothed a wrinkle on Jiang Qiu’s sleeve, mouthing back: Waiting for you.

Seeing how busy the CEO looked made Jiang Qiu feel guilty. He looked down and typed on his phone: I’ve taken up too much of your time. Let me buy you lunch.

As soon as he sent it, he felt a bit out of his depth. He was strapped for cash; he certainly couldn’t afford a high-end restaurant.

While Jiang Qiu was agonizing over his budget, Lu Mingshen hung up. “What are we eating?”

Jiang Qiu blinked, but Lu Mingshen gave a faint, soft smile. “Didn’t you say you were buying?”

Now he was truly in a bind. He had spent two years at university in Hangzhou, but he had spent that time frequenting snack stalls and food streets. He knew nothing about fancy hotels or restaurants. He hurriedly opened a social media app to search.

A hand with well-defined knuckles suddenly rested over his phone screen, the pale blue light of the display illuminating the clear outline of his veins.

“How about the area near Green River University?” Lu Mingshen suggested.

Jiang Qiu felt a bit embarrassed. “There? It’s a bit out of the way, and the environment is… ordinary.” He tried to pivot. “How about I take you somewhere else? Assistant Xu mentioned a place…”

“Let’s go there,” Lu Mingshen interrupted, his gaze steady on Jiang Qiu’s face. “If you’re the one treating me, shouldn’t I get to pick the place?”

Jiang Qiu: “…” Point taken.

He bit his lip and didn’t argue further.

“Besides,” Lu Mingshen added as the sunlight shifted, casting a warm glow around him. His voice was casual, but his words carried weight. “I want to see where you grew up.”

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