After Dating the President O, I Turned Into a Puppy-Like Lover - Chapter 2

That night, Dan Sirou shed her daytime attire and slipped into a casual black jacket. The zipper was pulled halfway up, the loose hem skimming her hips and setting off her legs, long and slender to an almost unfair degree.

The hood concealed her closely, revealing only her features. Bathed in the faint glow of moonlight, half of her face appeared sharply contoured and exquisitely refined. It was clearly an offhand, unstudied outfit, yet it effortlessly pierced straight into the deepest chamber of Jiang He’s heart—the place where unfathomable, carefully hidden thoughts lay buried.

She stood there, radiating a charm the darkness itself could not extinguish.

Jiang He stared at her without blinking, as though all the troubling emotions from moments before had been wiped clean.

Second by second, time slipped by, until the eyes that had been struck speechless by her beauty finally regained their calm.

“Then, may we begin?” Dan Sirou asked, lowering her hood.

Reluctantly, Jiang He tore her gaze away from Dan Sirou’s face and nodded. “Mm.”

Even though this was only the second time, her heart still trembled, thudding in a faint panic.

She couldn’t help but recall how, not so long ago, the two of them had attended the same school yet never once crossed paths. How had they gone from being little more than strangers to entering a relationship that involved such intimate interaction? It all traced back to that sweltering summer, one month ago.

August.

For more than twenty days in a row, the sun had hung mercilessly in the sky, scorching the earth below.

Even on the fourth floor, with the windows shut tight, the incessant chirring of cicadas still filtered in.

The hospital’s air-conditioning blasted cold air, yet Jiang He’s palms were damp with sweat.

She didn’t like the smell of disinfectant, nor did she like the atmosphere of hospitals. Everyone who came here was either burdened with the fear of their own illness or weighed down by concern for a sick loved one. How could such a place not feel suffocating?

In her seventeen years of life, Jiang He had always been in excellent health. Yet over the past six months, the number of times she had set foot in a hospital nearly equaled all her previous years combined.

During the summer vacation of her third year of middle school, she had undergone differentiation. As expected, she became an Alpha—an S-class Alpha, the highest rank among them.

Her family was overjoyed. It perfectly aligned with her grandfather’s expectations for her.

Under normal circumstances, this should have been a source of immense pride. Unfortunately, her rank was too high, and her differentiation came too early. At her age, just about to enter high school, her body couldn’t withstand the rapid growth of an S-class Alpha’s glands. She was forced to take large doses of medication to stimulate and regulate pheromone circulation. Perhaps due to the side effects, she developed a rare condition known as pheromone mania.

During each susceptible period, she was seized by an overwhelming urge to destroy things. At first, it manifested as nothing more than a desire to smash objects.

That alone was still tolerable. The Jiang family was well-off; if breaking things could cure the illness, they were more than willing to spend the money and consider it a small price for peace. But later, the symptoms worsened. She became unable to properly sense other people’s pheromones—whether Alpha or Omega. The moment she caught a whiff of them, an unconscious impulse to forcibly mark the other person would surge up within her.

Cases of this condition were exceedingly rare, both domestically and abroad—after all, S-class Alphas themselves were scarce.

Jiang He had visited countless hospitals. Even Dongcheng, renowned for its advanced medical facilities, could not offer a complete cure. Each visit ended the same way: with nothing more than another prescription to take home.

Until last month, when a doctor told her there had been a successful case.

The doctor explained that if she could find an S-class Omega whose pheromone compatibility with hers exceeded ninety percent, the Omega’s willing release of pheromones could soothe her body and ease the unbearable pain during her susceptible periods. However, to address the problem at its root, the best solution would still be marking. That way, the excess, chaotic pheromones would finally have an outlet.

But where was she supposed to find such a person?

S-class Alphas were rare; S-class Omegas were no less so.

Besides, apart from those few days when the illness flared up, Jiang He could honestly say she felt little to no desire when it came to Alpha–Omega matters—she even felt a certain degree of aversion toward them.

As a result, she had never taken the doctor’s suggestion particularly seriously. In her mind, when the episodes came, she could simply lock herself in her room and endure it until it passed.

“After taking the medication last time, did your symptoms improve at all?” the doctor asked, holding her medical file in one hand while scrolling through records on the computer with the other.

“No,” Jiang He replied truthfully. “It’s the same as before.”

“That makes things difficult.” Dr. Chen adjusted his glasses and let out a sigh.

He had already tried everything within his power—every medication that could be prescribed had been prescribed.

“Oh, right. The girl who came with you last time—her test results came back. It’s a shame. She’s only an A-plus, but in theory that should have been sufficient. Still, treating pheromone mania depends heavily on compatibility. Hers was just over eighty percent—close, but not quite there. That small gap could lead to unpredictable consequences, so I can’t recommend it.”

“Mm.” Jiang He responded calmly.

There was no obvious disappointment or regret on her face. Perhaps that was simply her nature—she rarely appeared invested in anything.

As they spoke, neither of them noticed a figure passing by the consultation room. At the time, she was holding a stack of imaging films and test reports. She glanced up at the room number, only to have her attention caught by the tall, slender girl inside.

The girl wore her hair in a high ponytail, light and flowing, her proportions nearly perfect.

Standing sideways to the door and backlit by the light, her silhouette was deep and striking. When she spoke to the doctor, she seemed somewhat detached, as if she was here accompanying someone else rather than seeking treatment for herself.

Dan Sirou recognized her.

They attended the same school. Her name was Jiang He.

They were nothing more than acquaintances by name. There was no reason for Dan Sirou to concern herself with why this barely familiar stranger had come to the hospital—especially when she had her own matters to attend to.

She was about to look away when Jiang He casually brushed aside the stray strands of hair on her forehead. Her fingers curled slightly, joints defined, long and elegant beyond measure.

Perhaps sensing the gaze from the doorway, Jiang He turned her head and glanced over. Dan Sirou quickly lowered her eyes, breaking eye contact, and left without a sound.