Be Good. Go Ahead and Mark Me. - Chapter 4

After their meal, Xiao Shuqing and his friends grabbed coffee together. His two childhood friends knew his temperament well, so they simply asked about the condition of his gland and didn’t try to press him further.

By the time he returned home, it was already close to evening.

The moment he opened the front door, his long-haired Alaskan Malamute, having already caught the sound of his arrival, sat down flat on the floor, grinning and lolling its tongue out at him.

It was just a giant, well-behaved fluffball.

He disinfected his hands first using the alcohol sanitizer by the entrance, and only then did he bend down to rub the large dog’s head. “I’m back.”

“Woof, woof!”

He then reached into the treat bag on the entryway cabinet, peeled open a package of jerky bits, and held them to the dog’s snout.

Having secured its meat, the big dog trotted off to a corner to happily munch away.

After changing into his loungewear, he added canned meat and chopped vegetables to the dog’s food bowl before finally heading in to take a shower.

When he came out, he gave his hair a careless, cursory blow-dry, not even minding that the tips were still dripping with water. He casually applied some skincare products and sat down on the sofa to read.

On the other side of the room, the Alaskan Malamute finished its dinner, let out a massive yawn, and padded over to its master’s feet, plopping down completely pressed against him to start dozing off.

The only sound in the room was the crisp rustle of pages turning one by one.

Just as he was getting deeply absorbed in his reading, his phone buzzed with a single vibration.

The man lifted his eyelids slightly as the screen lit up, displaying a green message bar.

He usually preferred peace and quiet, so his WeChat group chats were permanently muted. Furthermore, his friends rarely sent him direct private messages, meaning his phone seldom went off.

Receiving a message at this hour was somewhat unusual, so he immediately put on his glasses to check it. When he opened the chat interface, he felt a brief flash of confusion at the sender’s little yellow duck profile picture. It was only when he saw the single text—“Thank you”—that he remembered this was Yu Siyuan.

However, the header above still displayed the words “typing…”, suggesting the other party was still drafting more text.

Thinking it would be better to reply all at once after the boy sent everything, Xiao Shuqing kept quiet.

The “typing…” indicator vanished, then reappeared, flashing back and forth several times. Finally, a long block of text popped up on the screen:

He is my uncle, a friend of my father’s. Back when my dad was sick, he loaned my family.

It was a very lengthy paragraph that had clearly been drafted and edited multiple times before being sent. Yet, it only displayed for a few brief seconds before it was abruptly recalled. Xiao Shuqing didn’t even have time to finish reading the first sentence.

In its place, a simple apology appeared:

I’m sorry, Professor Xiao. I sent that to the wrong chat. Thank you anyway.

Xiao Shuqing stared at the screen for a moment, his finger hovering over the reply box. After a brief hesitation, he closed the conversation block.

It wasn’t until right before he went to bed that he finally replied:

Apologies, I was reading earlier and wasn’t paying attention to my phone.

You’re welcome.

With that, he locked his phone screen.

The two days of the weekend passed just like that—one day spent at the hospital, and another resting at home.

March 20th, Monday.

Xiao Shuqing had no classes today, so he planned to head to the university library to check out a few books and work on a research paper. Additionally, having read quite a bit recently, he had gained some fresh insights and intended to refine his lecture drafts for the current semester.

The library was exceptionally crowded at this time of year. The national cutoff scores for postgraduate entrance exams had just been released, and the students who passed were frantically prepping for their interviews. On top of that, undergraduate thesis defenses were scheduled for May, so a large wave of students who had fooled around all winter break were now desperately pulling all-nighters to finish their dissertations.

Xiao Shuqing picked up a few books from the third floor and left.

On his way past the campus sports field, he saw rows of promotional booths set up for corporate recruitment events. The entire field was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people.

Draped across the perimeter fences of the field were slogans printed on bright red silk banners:

Spread your wings, charge ahead, and weather the storms!

Leap into the sea of humanity together, and become a surging wave!

“Another year, another graduation season. We really send off one batch of these students after another.”

A colleague’s sigh drifted into his ears.

Hearing the voice, Xiao Shuqing turned his head and realized that one of his fellow professors happened to be passing by the field as well, having stepped up beside him without him noticing.

“I heard a postgraduate student signed a contract with a seven-figure annual salary this year?” he asked, averting his gaze from the crowd.

The colleague nodded. “Yes. From the Software Engineering department next door. A starting salary of 1.3 million a year. He did his undergraduate degree here too, before being fast-tracked into the master’s program. A certified little genius.”

“Mm, very impressive.”

“Sigh, there was an even greater genius a while back. You’ve only been teaching here for two years, so you might not know about it. Just three years ago, there was an undergraduate kid. In his junior year, he was scouted by a top tech firm to be groomed as part of their ‘Genius Youth’ program. It caused quite a stir, even alarming our university president. The boy’s raw talent was simply too phenomenal; it’s a tragedy he didn’t pursue a doctorate to stay in research. He was a physics major. If he had gone into artificial intelligence or aerospace engineering down the line, he would have been a pillar of the nation even if he only entered the workforce after a master’s degree. In the end, that company poached him with a 1.5 million annual salary. Later on, though, the president looked into his family situation. Turns out he had a sick father, and his father’s daily living and hospitalization expenses alone cost over a million a year. Sigh. The kid is a good kid, but the waste of talent is truly a crying shame.”

Xiao Shuqing lowered his gaze to look at the copy of The Redemption of Consciousness in his hand. After a moment of thought, he said softly, “The world is a constantly shifting environment, and every individual is a person in continuous development.”

Do not use the past to define the future.

In doing so, everyone remains free.

Including himself.

The colleague, who was also a philosophy professor, blinked in surprise before letting out a smile of quiet realization. “That’s true.”

The entire day was spent lost in books and paper revisions.

By the time he wrapped up work in the afternoon, he turned his head toward the window only to see flurries of snow swirling down outside.

“It was over twenty degrees just a couple of days ago, and now it plummets below freezing all of a sudden. Truly bizarre weather,” the white-haired colleague at the next desk remarked.

Xiao Shuqing turned around to pack his things, replying casually, “It’s a leap second month in the lunar calendar this year.”

“Ah, yes. The traditions left behind by our ancestors are filled with wisdom.”

“Indeed.”

After gathering his belongings, he walked out carrying his briefcase.

Outside, the world was a freezing expanse of ice and snow. Even though it had only been snowing for a short while, a thin layer of pristine white had already accumulated on the ground. Students who didn’t have classes were gathered around several vibrant red wintersweet plum trees by the entrance, holding up their phones to snap photos.

The pink petals were weighed down by the delicate, powdery white snow. It looked exquisitely crystal-clear—certainly worth a photograph.

However, Xiao Shuqing only spared it a passing glance before walking away briskly.

He needed to drive back before the snow accumulated further; otherwise, as it packed down, driving would become treacherous.

Just as he started the car engine, his phone began to vibrate violently.

It was a call from his Alpha father.

“Hello, Father.”

“Mm, Shuqing. Is it convenient to talk right now? I have something to tell you.”

Xiao Shuqing’s father was a very traditional Alpha—man of few words, bearing burdens without a single complaint. Compared to his hyper-detailed, endlessly rambling Omega mother, his father rarely called him unless it was an absolute emergency that couldn’t be avoided.

He glanced at the snow still drifting outside the windshield and said softly, “It’s convenient.”

He cut the engine.

Then, his father’s voice traveled through the earpiece: “Something happened to Sang Yue.”

Xiao Shuqing’s grip on his phone suddenly tightened.

Sang Yue was his distant cousin, an Omega. He was thirty-six this year, unmarried, and had never been marked by an Alpha. Sang Yue wasn’t close to him; they only bumped into each other occasionally during family reunions during major holidays, and they rarely exchanged words.

Under normal circumstances, his mishap wouldn’t warrant a notification to Xiao Shuqing. At the very least, it shouldn’t have prompted his father to call so formally.

“What happened? Is it an issue with his gland?” Xiao Shuqing asked, his tone almost entirely certain.

“Yes. His gland was already showing signs of deterioration last year, but he didn’t take it seriously. A few days ago, he suddenly felt severe discomfort in his gland and headed for the hospital, but he collapsed before he even arrived. He was in the ICU for three days before they finally managed to pull him back from the brink. They said overusing suppressants led to glandular failure, which triggered multiple organ failure. The doctor said if he had arrived at the hospital even a few seconds later, he would have been gone.”

The man lowered his gaze, his fingertips unconsciously tapping against the steering wheel in front of him.

Feigning indifference, he murmured, “Surviving a great disaster means good fortune down the line.”

A helpless sigh echoed from the receiver.

“Xiao Qing, you know that isn’t what I meant.”

“Your mother hasn’t closed his eyes for two days. We are all incredibly worried about you.”

“Xiao Qing, in the past, we were always terrified that once we passed away, leaving you all alone in this world would make you lonely. But now, we are terrified that you will pass away before us.”

“Can you find an Alpha? Just to give us some peace of mind.”

His father continued to plead softly over the phone.

The air inside the car cabin gradually grew frigid.

The swirling snow drifted onto the front windshield, accumulating into small patches of frosty white over the wiper blades.

The parking lot lights flickered on as the darkness of night slowly fell.

Listening to his father’s earnest entreaties, the forearm Xiao Shuqing used to hold his phone grew slightly numb. After a long silence, he said in a low voice, “Understood, Father.”

“Mm.”

“Sigh.”

Following two heavy sighs, the call disconnected.

Xiao Shuqing pulled a pack of cigarettes from the storage compartment and lit one up.

After biting open the flavor capsule, a crisp, fruity aroma slowly melted down his throat from the filter.

His phone chimed with several crisp notification alerts. The screen lit up, displaying their three-person group chat.

Yin Yu: @Xiao Shuqing, Ah Qing, your dad just called me. Do you know about that matter yet?

Yin Yu: Asked me to talk some sense into you. The way he described it sounded absolutely terrifying.

Song Qingyun: ? What happened.

Yin Yu: Said Ah Qing’s cousin overused suppressants and spent three days in the ICU, almost crossing over to the other side. Ah Qing’s dad called me, crying his eyes out while talking. @Xiao Shuqing, what exactly is going on with your gland? Don’t scare me.

Xiao Shuqing opened his hospital app and pulled up his own medical examination report again.

The diagnosis report contained only two lines of text:

1. Redness and swelling in the throat, minor inflammation; no other pathological symptoms detected.

2. B-scan ultrasonography of the gland shows slight abnormalities in internal echoes; follow-up examination recommended.

Clicking on the second item revealed the results of his follow-up: Excessive use of suppressants, resulting in mild glandular obstruction.

• Treatment Plan: For the next heat cycle, reduce suppressants to a single injection, supplemented by gentle therapy using curative Alpha pheromones. Follow-up consultation in one month. Match with an Alpha as soon as possible.

That vial of curative pheromones was still sitting untouched in the car’s storage compartment.

Xiao Shuqing stared at the words on the screen.

His fingertip rested on that final sentence—“Match with an Alpha as soon as possible”—as he took a heavy drag of his cigarette.

The phone in his hand continued to vibrate as a continuous stream of messages kept popping up in their three-person group chat.

Xiao Shuqing stubbed out his cigarette butt and picked his phone back up. Seeing that the unread message count in the chat block already displayed 99+, it was obvious the two had been talking extensively. He casually scrolled back through the history; the conversation had taken a decidedly academic turn.

Yin Yu: So, what you’re saying is, without an Alpha’s stimulation, an Omega’s gland will inevitably malfunction, right? What kind of stimulation are we talking about here? Pheromones, or purely physiological?

Song Qingyun: Both count.

[Chat History]

Yin Yu: Even without an Alpha’s stimulation, can’t you just massage the gland yourself regularly to alleviate the symptoms? Isn’t that super easy? Finding an Alpha is hard, but massaging your own gland couldn’t be simpler. Why on earth do they all end up in this state?

Song Qingyun: Self-massage doesn’t yield very effective results. Plus, he probably doesn’t pay much attention to it on regular days anyway.

Yin Yu: Uh. I guess this sort of thing isn’t exactly easy to bring up to him either. Feels kind of weird.

Song Qingyun: Yeah.

Their conversation had paused there for a moment, likely because neither had much else to say. According to the timestamps, ten minutes later, Yin Yu had suddenly sent an enthusiastic text:

I’ve got it!

Hahaha, I’m a certified little genius!

Song Qingyun had presumably gone off to tend to something, leaving the conversation suspended. The last message sent was already fifteen minutes ago.

As Xiao Shuqing was reading through, a nudge notification suddenly flashed across his screen.

[Yin Yu nudged “You”]

In the very next second, Taobao shopping screenshots began flooding out of the chat box like crazy.

[First Taste of Love, Gentle Touch | Payment Successful]

[Blazing Inferno, Intense Stimulation | Payment Successful]

[Multifunctional Comprehensive Stimulation, Unleash Pleasure in Seconds. | Payment Successful]

Every imaginable variety of adult toys, spanning different models and categories. And without a single exception, the shipping address on every single order page was written down as Xiao Shuqing’s home.

Yin Yu: And, done!

Yin Yu: @Xiao Shuqing, come out, Ah Qing! Look at the incredible treasures I just scored for you! [Come on, let’s have a good time.jpg]

Xiao Shuqing: “???”

Are you crazy?