Drunk On The Night Breeze - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Tao Zhi walked out with a flare of suppressed rage. Along the way, someone tried to greet him, but he ignored them entirely. Only as he stepped out of the studio door did his pace falter slightly; no one had chased after him. He went downstairs to get his bike. Having no destination in mind, he sped toward the less-crowded outskirts of the city under the scorching midday sun.

He should have seen it coming.

An Omega who could emit pheromones to a total stranger Alpha during their first meeting—it wasn’t surprising that his private life was “active,” to say the least.

In truth, Ruan Lingfeng’s private life had absolutely nothing to do with him.

This was a free era. People were tolerant of various perspectives, and society protected the physiologically vulnerable Omegas well, allowing them to be themselves without fear. Many open-minded Omegas acted like Ruan Lingfeng: they wouldn’t use suppressants or scent-blocking patches during their heat cycles; they would casually expose the back of their necks and, if they felt like it, release signals to an Alpha they found attractive.

It was just a lifestyle choice. As long as it didn’t affect others, there was nothing wrong with it. Tao Zhi knew this very well.

But call him stubborn or backward if you will—he utterly detested such Omegas.

When he was a child, more than one such Omega had intruded upon his family. These Omegas, along with his Alpha father who was ruled by desire, indulged in debauchery, leaving nothing but tears and hysteria for his other parent.

Back then, he resisted going home, unwilling to face a parent who spent every day either weeping or acting out. Later, he couldn’t go home at all; at most, he returned to an empty house. His parent chose to end it all on a bright spring afternoon, and after that, going home meant never seeing his closest kin again.

At sixteen or seventeen, Tao Zhi started a band with people he thought were his friends. During autograph sessions after performances, people would come up with the blatant smell of pheromones, handing him slips of paper with WeChat IDs—or even hotel room numbers—while scratching his palm during handshakes.

When he first encountered these things, he thought these people were there to support their music. Perhaps their values differed, but there was no need to be cruel. So, he would silently overcome the urge to vomit and repeatedly wash the spots where the Omegas had touched him afterward.

As it happened more frequently, he eventually lost his temper to prevent further harassment, saying extremely harsh things.

That was how his “Omega-phobia” came to be.

He guarded these principles within his territory—principles that others might find eccentric—and he had intended to live that way forever.

Until he met Ruan Lingfeng. He should have detested an Omega like Ruan Lingfeng. It was one thing to superficially respect someone else’s lifestyle and mind his own business, but he should have maintained that inner loathing.

Yet, he didn’t. He didn’t hate Ruan Lingfeng, nor did he feel repulsed by him. Even just now, when he realized Ruan Lingfeng was indeed the kind of Omega who could go to bed with someone just because they caught his eye, his immediate anger wasn’t born out of disgust for the person.

Initially, he thought it was because Ruan Lingfeng was a good person, professional at work, and someone he could actually talk to. That’s why he didn’t hate him.

But maybe it wasn’t that.

It was because he could feel the attraction of Ruan Lingfeng’s pheromones. It was instinct. He couldn’t control himself, so he couldn’t bring himself to hate the other man. In the end, he was becoming just like his father—the kind of Alpha he despised most, a slave to his own instincts.

He was even angrier at his own powerlessness.

History repeats itself.

This was the second time Tao Zhi had interrupted Ruan Lingfeng during a public speech and stormed out. Fortunately, this time Ruan Lingfeng felt he had some understanding of Tao Zhi, and he wasn’t as shaken by the sudden surge of Alpha pheromones as he had been the first time. Consequently, his composure didn’t crumble.

He was even able to remain calm and comfort the team members who were startled by Tao Zhi’s behavior. His wording wasn’t much different from what Chen Ping had said to him back then: “Tao Zhi is just like that sometimes, don’t mind him too much… However, the selection of the band still needs his final approval. Since he’s out now, let’s skip this part for now.”

He organized the work tasks methodically before finally leaving the conference room.

It would have been fine if his emotions were as stable as they appeared on the surface, but in reality, Ruan Lingfeng’s mood was also terrible. He thought they were finally able to communicate. Even if he said something that hit a nerve, couldn’t they talk it out? Did he have to throw a tantrum and walk out like that?

Ruan Lingfeng first called Tao Zhi, but the call went unanswered. He sent a message, which also received no reply.

After waiting a while, Ruan Lingfeng called Tao Zhi’s manager instead. Chen Ping wasn’t at the studio today; he said he had gone to a music program’s recording studio to check on the rehearsals. When Ruan Lingfeng told him about Tao Zhi running off, Chen Ping was shocked.

Chen Ping asked, “What did you say that made him so angry?”

Ruan Lingfeng roughly reconstructed the scene. There was a long silence on the other end of the line, filled only with the faint sound of static.

After a long while, Chen Ping finally spoke: “The band Fever… do you really not know the story?”

Ruan Lingfeng felt he understood a little, but he wasn’t sure: “I don’t know the story… Did Tao Zhi have a falling out with them?”

“What a coincidence,” Chen Ping sighed. “…That was his former band.”

“…” Ruan Lingfeng truly hadn’t expected this. Previously, he had asked around everywhere, but no one was willing to give him the band’s name. He hadn’t wanted to force anyone to bring in a former band just to sell nostalgia. He had meticulously chosen a band with a matching style and solid skills—one so niche that a hundred out of a hundred people would never have heard of them. And yet, by some freak coincidence, it was Tao Zhi’s former band.

“Didn’t he say it was just something they threw together in high school? I thought it was just a student band,” Ruan Lingfeng paused, then added, “And Tao Zhi only said the reason they split was that everyone gradually drifted apart.”

“Anyway, it wasn’t an amicable split, which is why he’s unwilling to talk about it,” since things had reached this point, Chen Ping gave a rough explanation. “Actually, I don’t know the specifics either. I only know that in the end, Tao Zhi and the lead singer got into a fight. He still has a scar on his forehead from it.”

“No wonder, then.”

No wonder Tao Zhi had such an extreme reaction when that band and the lead singer were mentioned. Ruan Lingfeng felt he finally understood. He rubbed the bridge of his nose: “It’s my fault. I wasn’t sensitive enough. I just felt he still liked being in a band, but I should have realized that his unwillingness to talk meant there were unpleasant memories.”

Inviting a guest who had a history with the client was practically a major professional disaster.

But Chen Ping said, “You can’t say that. It’s my side’s fault for not explaining the situation to you beforehand… When you came to ask me, I didn’t expect you were planning to invite a guest.”

“Sorry, I didn’t make myself clear.”

Though he secretly thought these people really loved being “riddle-makers”—if something was so taboo, why not say so earlier? But complaining was useless; the mistake had happened, and he had to own it.

But… putting aside the client-contractor relationship, Ruan Lingfeng remembered how Tao Zhi looked earlier—so angry he seemed to be on fire—and thought about Chen Ping saying they fought until Tao Zhi was scarred. Suddenly, his heart softened for no particular reason.

Regardless of what the conflict was, Tao Zhi’s love for the band didn’t seem fake. Moreover, Tao Zhi’s personality didn’t seem like the type to enjoy teamwork; to be able to form a band together, their relationship must have been good at the beginning, right?

What happened later to make him so bothered by it?

At the end of the call, Chen Ping received a text from Tao Zhi saying he was at home. Chen Ping relayed this news to Ruan Lingfeng. Ruan Lingfeng’s heart settled; at least he didn’t have to worry about Tao Zhi acting out or going missing in the city.

He hung up, thought for a moment, opened his WeChat chat with Tao Zhi, and began to draft an apology.

Whether it was to remedy a professional blunder or simply to coax a “kid” into being happy, Ruan Lingfeng truly and sincerely wanted to apologize to Tao Zhi.

However, this apology received no response.

Ruan Lingfeng waited the entire day, but Tao Zhi never replied. When he went to Tao Zhi’s studio the next day, there was no sign of the red-haired teenager who usually insisted on showing up every day.