After Helping the Protagonist Escape From a Madman, I Became His Target [Transmigration Novel] - Chapter 3

Holy.

Crap.

The air thickens with the scent of aged red wine—fragrant and intoxicating, yet sharp enough to cut through the spicy aroma of the food.

The moment it touches Shen Luyang’s skin, the warmth vanishes, replaced by a biting chill that seeps into his pores and settles around his heart, freezing him solid. Unlike the earlier mental suggestion, Xie Weihan is truly deploying his pheromones this time.

Shen Luyang’s Adam’s apple bobs uncontrollably. A sharp sting pricks the back of his neck, and his palms go ice-cold, feeling as though an invisible hand has clamped firmly around his throat. This is the visceral terror a common Alpha feels toward an S-class; even a leak of pressure is enough to render them immobile.

But deep down, he is still thinking: Holy crap.

His body reacts with primal fear—his wrist shakes so violently he can barely hold his chopsticks. This is an instinct etched into his very marrow, the way a sewer rat freezes when it spots a cat.

Yet, having lived as a man in a modern, logical society for twenty-four years, he cannot reconcile with this terror. Instead, the forced bending of his spine ignites a fierce spark of defiance.

Why should a regular Alpha be born to fear an S-class?

He refuses to accept it.

Struggling to suppress his trembling fingers, Shen Luyang grits his teeth and forces a strained smile, forcing the words out one by one. “Teacher—Xie—”

The moment the last syllable leaves his lips, the tidal wave of stinging pressure vanishes instantly, as if it had never existed. It was a display of terrifyingly precise control.

Xie Weihan wears a faint, lingering smile as he states flatly, “If your friend’s friend is an Alpha, then an Omega wouldn’t have lasted nearly as long as you did. Instead, they would have succumbed to heat and actively sought a marking.”

The subtext is clear: When a powerful person harbors malice, the devastation is far greater than you can imagine.

Before Shen Luyang’s newfound backbone can fully stiffen, he is mentally pushed back. He blinks, looking a bit dazed by the circular logic. “…Oh. You’re right.”

So, he was just giving me a demonstration.

Xie Weihan thoughtfully hands him a tissue. “Did I startle you?”

Shen Luyang rubs his neck, right where his gland is located. It still stings like a fresh burn. He waves a hand dismissively, though his face contorts in a wince. “No. You made a good point, Teacher Xie. I’ll call him in a bit and tell him to report it to the police.”

Rather than ‘disposing’ of the person himself.

Xie Weihan gives a noncommittal smile.

While he obviously can’t call the police on an as-yet-innocent Xie Weihan, Shen Luyang feels a renewed sense of duty. Not just for his own sake or Xie Weihan’s, but for the countless innocent people around them—he absolutely cannot let Xie Weihan turn dark.

On the way back, Shen Luyang is too busy rubbing his overstuffed stomach to talk. Xie Weihan isn’t much for small talk either, leaving only the System to carry on its noisy celebrations.

[Our Luyang is so brave! I knew I picked the right person!]

[So what if he’s an S-class Alpha? Does being S-class give him the right to bully regular Alphas?]

[Luyang is usually a good boy, but he turns into a big bad wolf the moment he’s provoked. He isn’t even afraid of Teacher Xie!]

Shen Luyang: Don’t talk nonsense. Teacher Xie isn’t that kind of person.

[What?]

Shen Luyang: I’ve never seen anyone better-looking in my life.

[…So you think he isn’t dangerous? In the span of a single meal, he’s already used hypnosis and a pheromone attack on you.]

Shen Luyang: That hypnosis was actually quite comfortable, like sleeping on a cloud—soft and airy. And what pheromone attack? Teacher Xie was just warning me that my friend’s friend is dangerous.

[Luyang, when you get a girlfriend in the future, I’m sure you’ll find the courage to forgive her many, many times.]

Shen Luyang: Now you’re speaking my language. I like mature ladies with high heels.

[…In the future, you’re going to like suits and black leather shoes.]

Shen Luyang: ???

The original “Shen Luyang” had been a bit of a slob. After only a week on the job, his desk looked like it had been hit by an explosion, forming a sharp contrast with the pristine desk of Teacher Xie behind him.

Upon returning to the office, Shen Luyang’s first order of business is to borrow a trash bag from Zong Weiqing, the homeroom teacher for Class 11. He tosses everything that can be thrown away—mostly luxury magazines, basketball journals, and randomly stashed snacks.

Having arrived so suddenly, this is the first time he’s had a chance to really look at himself.

He’s wearing a T-shirt with a colorful tiger head on the chest, paired with black sweatpants featuring thick white stripes and chunky “dad” sneakers. The brand-name gear probably totals over ten thousand yuan. A “Submariner” watch—authenticity unknown—sits on his wrist, and a bold chain hangs around his neck. Judging by the weight, it might actually be gold.

Even in his past life, during his rebellious youth when he’d get into street fights, he had never dressed this ostentatiously. He prefers clean, sharp colors that look comfortable and approachable. Back at the orphanage, the staff always favored the clean kids—you’d even get an extra scoop of food for it.

When he unearths several high-end figurines from another drawer, he finally realizes where all the money in his bank account went. An intern teacher makes just over two thousand a month; the rest had to be coming from his family.

Since he has a class tonight, he can’t exactly sell this stuff on the spot. He pours himself a cup of tea, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees the office door push open.

Shi Fan walks in, rubbing his temples.

Shen Luyang suddenly remembers his lie about a “student looking for you.” He spins around, slams a hand onto Xie Weihan’s desk, and grabs a physics problem set. As the other man looks over, Shen Luyang blurs out: “Teacher Xie, what’s your take on this?”

He completely ignores the fact that the man is a math teacher.

Perhaps due to the sheer aura of the tiger on his chest, his desk had been positioned directly facing the office door. Because he “hid” so quickly, Shi Fan sees them deep in discussion and forgets to ask where the student went.

Hearing the sound of a chair being pulled out and moved, Shen Luyang breathes a sigh of relief.

He’s only halfway through that breath when he hears a low, questioning voice.

“Teacher Shen, do you like this type?”

“Huh?”

Following Xie Weihan’s gaze, Shen Luyang looks down at a clipped magazine page. It shows a sexy woman in revealing black leather, posing suggestively against a Mercedes G-Wagon.

…

He doesn’t even have time to wonder why such scandalous material was tucked into a teacher’s lesson plans. His eyes are glued to the “mature lady in high heels,” and he blurts out, “I can explain.”

Xie Weihan finds this amusing. When Zong Weiqing approaches to refill her water, he considerately reaches out to cover the magazine page, whispering, “I’m all ears.”

Shen Luyang doesn’t know if his current phone follows any meme accounts, but he knows that if this story went online, the comments would be brutal.

“Actually,” his mouth twitches for a long moment before he chokes out, “this is exactly my type.”

[Impressive! I didn’t expect that kind of answer.]

Zong Weiqing finishes filling her water and gives a friendly greeting as she passes. “What are you two chatting about?”

Shen Luyang, despite his thick skin, feels like he’s dying of embarrassment. His toes are practically curling tight enough to claw through the floorboards, but his mouth and brain are clearly not on speaking terms. He bellows: “Physics problems!”

Zong Weiqing is taken aback, looking at him with genuine touched emotion. “You’ve worked hard, Teacher Shen. You’re preparing so diligently just to answer questions during self-study.”

Shen Luyang nods solemnly. “It’s only right.”

Xie Weihan watches the exchange, his eyes shifting as his finger slides back exactly one centimeter. The “physics problem” is about to turn back into the “leather-clad lady.”

In a panic, Shen Luyang slams his hand down on top of Xie Weihan’s.

The touch is icy cold, the knuckles prominent and a bit hard. As Zong Weiqing casts a puzzled glance over, Shen Luyang begins to stroke the hand, his mouth running wild with nonsense. “Teacher Xie, your hands are so cold. Does no one love you?”

Zong Weiqing is nearly fifty; she simply thinks these young teachers are quite mature and know how to look out for their colleagues. They’ve only been working together for a week and are already getting along so well. She offers a few more words of praise and saunters off with her thermos.

Only when she is far away does Shen Luyang breathe the other half of his sigh.

Halfway through, he realizes he’s forgotten something. He looks up and meets Xie Weihan’s pitch-black pupils.

They really are beautiful.

Xie Weihan doesn’t move his hand, but his gaze is meaningful. “Teacher Shen, this problem is outside my area of expertise.”

Shen Luyang freezes. His stalled brain finally has a lightbulb moment. “Don’t you like mature ladies in high heels?”

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

He decides to buy a roll of duct tape after work and tape his mouth shut for every second he isn’t teaching. He’s too used to the rowdy banter of his university roommates. As a fresh graduate who transmigrated before he even started his first real job, he has zero experience in professional social dynamics.

But he knows that this dynamic is definitely not going to work.

To his surprise, Teacher Xie actually considers the reckless question for a few seconds before answering composedly, “I prefer things that are clean and pure.”

The pure type!

Shen Luyang bites down on those words to keep from repeating them.

“Teacher Shen?” Xie Weihan’s hand moves slightly.

“Oh!” Shen Luyang pulls his hand away. The pale skin on the back of the other man’s hand has a small red mark from the pressure—it looks stark against the white, making it seem a bit warmer.

He folds that clipped page of Playboy into a small square, stuffs it into his pocket, and takes it home.

Not because he wants to look at it.

Well, maybe a little.

But mostly because he just couldn’t find a good time to throw it away.

Shen Luyang’s home is quite far from the school, but he has a car—a silver-painted Porsche 911 that is as flashy as it gets. The car that sent him flying in his past life was also a Porsche.

What a cursed coincidence.

He’s just thankful he got his driver’s license during the summer of his sophomore year. Having only ever driven his professor’s Mercedes at most, Shen Luyang fully experiences the charm of a luxury car on the way home. After parking, he leans over the steering wheel and gazes at it lovingly for ten minutes before reluctantly getting out.

Once inside and after a shower, he finally has time to piece together the original owner’s finances and family relationships. He summarizes them in three phrases:

Rich second generation, spendthrift, and a total airhead.

He had driven his mother to the hospital with stress and caused his father to throw a punch in rage. They had cut off all his financial support, yet in the end, they still softened at the sound of their son’s weeping and begging. Eventually, his father used his connections to place him at this high school, hoping he’d settle down and gain some sense over the next few years.

Fortunately, the original owner has an older brother; otherwise, the family business would have been squandered long ago.

His phone pings. The WeChat contact is “Mom.”

[Did you buy a car?]

[Baby, listen to Mom. Stop acting out. Your father is very angry and plans to cut off your allowance.]

[I’ll transfer 100,000 to you tomorrow. Just endure for a few days, okay?]

[Don’t be angry with us. We love you.]

For some reason, seeing these messages makes Shen Luyang’s eyes feel warm. He taps out a reply.

[It’s okay, Mom. I’ll get my first paycheck in half a month.]

She calls him immediately. Her voice is thick with tears. “Luyang, are you angry with Mom again?”

Shen Luyang takes a deep breath and grips the phone tightly until his voice sounds normal. “No. The other young teachers at school don’t ask their families for money anymore. I’m not a kid…”

His mother isn’t listening. “How much do you have left?”

Shen Luyang thinks of his three-digit balance, then looks at the pile of limited-edition figurines in the study and the flashy supercar downstairs. He says softly, “It’s enough, Mom. I’m an adult. It would be embarrassing if I still couldn’t take care of myself.”

His mother continues to nag him until the end of the call, telling him to take care of his health, not to make the wrong friends, and not to mistreat himself. However, she doesn’t mention the 100,000 yuan again.

She clearly doesn’t believe for a second that her son actually doesn’t want it.

Shen Luyang sighs. He can’t rush these things. He opens the fridge to find unsurprisingly—nothing but instant food and alcohol. He settles for ordering takeout.

Before bed, he calls out to the System.

Luyang: Tongtong, do I have a mission tomorrow?

[No spoilers]

[But you have a class tomorrow afternoon. Luyang, how much high school physics do you actually remember?]

Shen Luyang, a foreign language major who hadn’t looked at a physics book in four years: 

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