Chapter 10

"Senior," Tang Youning sat by the hospital bed, his chin resting on his hands, his eyes melancholic. "Tell me, what does being an alpha represent?"

In the private ward of Hangzhou Hospital, pale blue curtains hung around the bed, machines beeping like a symphony. Sunlight filtered through the first layer of light-colored curtains, casting a glow by the bedside. Xu Changying was restrained with straps on his wrists and ankles, forced to lie face-up, staring at the ceiling as he gasped for breath.

Xu Changying heard his own hoarse voice say, "Go buy me a pack of Liqun cigarettes. Give me one, and I'll tell you."

Tang Youning replied, "Senior, what's Liqun? Is Marlboro okay?"

Xu Changying: "Then why the hell aren't you handing it over?!"

Tang Youning immediately pulled one out from his pocket with reverence, stuck it between Xu Changying's lips, and lit it.

Xu Changying took a drag, feeling as though every pore in his body felt clear, an indescribable relief washing over him. His nerves, tense for the past 24 hours, finally loosened slightly. With the cigarette dangling from his mouth, he began to ramble: "Being an alpha isn't about physique—it's a mindset. If you think you're an alpha, then you're an alpha, whether you have pheromones or not. If you think you're an omega, then you're an omega, whether you have a womb or not."

Tang Youning: "Senior, the ash—the ash is about to land in your mouth— But mindset alone isn't enough. Alphas and omegas need to fall in love, and they need to have children."

The alpha strapped to the hospital bed, tubes running all over his body, let out a raspy laugh. The ash did indeed land in his mouth, forcing him to awkwardly spit it out while still holding the cigarette. "People aren't cats or dogs. Who you sleep with isn't assigned—you sleep with whoever you want! Honestly, why can't an omega dominate an alpha? As long as both parties consent, who the hell cares!"

Tang Youning: "Senior Xu Changying, you make so much sense! Then what about betas?"

Xu Changying: "Damn right, anyone can be with anyone. Do whatever the hell you want!"

Tang Youning seemed to hesitate, as if wanting to say more. Smoke swirled between them as Xu Changying struggled to catch his breath, trying to take a few more puffs. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a white coat outside the window. He immediately turned his head and flicked the cigarette butt toward Tang Youning, then shut his eyes and feigned sleep. Tang Youning instantly erupted in anger, shouting in his ear, "Senior, how could you do this to me—"

The door was flung open.

"Mr. Tang, your visiting time is up. We need to change Mr. Xu’s dressings. If you continue providing cigarettes to the patient, we will have to reconsider your visiting rights..."

The voice faded into the distance, blending with the harsh light that seeped through Xu Changying’s eyelids, swirling endlessly in the depths of his dream. He didn’t know why he suddenly recalled this memory from his early days of treatment. Gradually, another voice reached his ears, pulling him into yet another time and place.

"You heard what the doctor said—I need omega pheromone therapy. Why are you still clinging to me?" That was his own voice again.

The northern summer sun streamed through the double-paned window, illuminating the cluttered small rented apartment. Standing in the middle of the room, Xu Changying felt as though a fire raged in his chest, burning away his rationality. He kicked the coffee table over with a loud crash and roared, "Do you have no self-respect, Xia Qing? I said I’m applying for an omega match. Why are you still clinging to me like some pathetic loser?"

"I’ll go with you." Xia Qing stood in the shadows, his expression obscured in the dream. Only his quiet, resolute voice could be heard.

Xu Changying paced the living room like a caged beast. He kicked over the easel by the window, his fury and regret scalding him like boiling oil. He lunged forward, toppling dozens of framed artworks leaning against the wall, then dropped to his knees and began smashing the framed paintings and sketches one by one.

Xia Qing seemed to step closer behind him. "Take your medicine first."

Xu Changying hurled the frame in his hands with such force that it knocked the pills and water cup from Xia Qing’s grip. But the next second, he realized something was wrong—the artwork he’d just destroyed wasn’t just any piece. He lurched to his feet, searching frantically.

The frame had bent from the impact against the wall, the sketch paper torn beyond recognition, the figure in it now unrecognizable. Shredded paper littered the floor, making it impossible to tell which fragments belonged to the ruined artwork.

Standing there, clutching the broken frame, Xu Changying felt a wave of panic and sorrow rise in his chest. Instinctively, he turned to look at Xia Qing—only to see him kneeling on the ground, picking up scattered pills from the debris.

Bathed in the warm sunlight, Xu Changying felt ice-cold, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. A few seconds later, he hurled the frame to the ground again with a deafening crash. Xia Qing, still on one knee, looked up at him.

In the silence of the room, Xu Changying heard himself hiss through clenched teeth, "I’m an alpha. I need an omega’s pheromones. I’m applying to marry an omega—are you going to follow me even then? I can’t smell you, Xia Qing. Don’t humiliate yourself like this."

"Let me go. I regret it, Xia Qing. I regret it—can’t you understand?!"

Xu Changying’s eyes snapped open. His watch buzzed incessantly, all indicators nearing critical levels. His heart still pounded violently, his chest heaving. The right side of his face was numb from the emotional turmoil, as though he’d truly just been standing in that rented apartment, screaming in rage. Though his eyes burned with the illusion of tears, they remained painfully dry—a symptom of his spiking fever.

The living room was utterly silent. Zhao Yang and Qi Feng slept on either side of him—Qi Feng curled up with a panda-patterned blanket, his face flushed against a panda pillow, while Zhao Yang was bundled up like a burrito, brows furrowed, muttering in his sleep.

Xu Changying rubbed his temples, then rummaged through yesterday’s coat. He pulled out a metal mint tin, poured a handful of white tablets into his palm, and swallowed them all at once.

Five minutes later, his body temperature and heart rate dropped. Xu Zhangying shook his head, turned up the AC, splashed some water on his face in the bathroom, found a set of casual sportswear in Zhao Yang's closet to wear, checked his watch, and left.

At exactly 7 a.m., Xu Zhangying pushed open the door of the Major Crime Unit office and saw Yan Jianbai sitting by the open window quietly smoking. At the innermost desk, one person was fast asleep, while another was still flipping through a large stack of paper case files. The sleeper was Tan Song; the one buried in case files was Song Yuli. They, along with members of Criminal Investigation Unit 2, had spent the night sorting through records of organ trafficking crimes.

Yan Jianbai looked surprised. "Officer Xu, why are you here so early? Weren’t we supposed to have the morning off?"

Xu Zhangying smiled. "Still on my old sleep schedule. I just wanted to check in."

Yan Jianbai put out his cigarette and walked toward him. "We’re still sorting the organ trafficking files, but we’ve already found some suspicious leads. As for the surveillance footage, Professor Xia contacted Xing’an for technical support last night, speeding things up. Results from both sides should be ready by this afternoon."

Xu Zhangying nodded. "That’s good. Captain Yan, I want to check in on the victim’s family this morning. Could you send me the location?"

Yan Jianbai said, "Officer Xu, that family’s been giving us trouble. Let me call Shao Qiaoqiao to go with you—she’s almost done with her work anyway."

Xu Zhangying declined. "No need. I’m just going for an on-site visit."

Yan Jianbai quickly sent over the information on the local victim’s family. The victim, Zhao Lanyue, was the only deceased with this country’s nationality. Her life had been difficult—her mother left home when she was three, and her father died in a loan-sharking dispute when she was fourteen. After that, she lived with her only aunt, Zhao Xiuzhen, but ran away from home at sixteen.

Xu Zhangying was heading to Zhao Xiuzhen’s home. Zhao Xiuzhen had previously stated that Zhao Lanyue was working locally, but the police had combed through all the city’s electronics factories, textile mills, and nightlife spots—clubs, KTVs, the usual—but came up empty. Later, Tan Song and others, while interviewing distant relatives, heard that Zhao Lanyue didn’t get along with her aunt’s family at all and had once shouted that she would go to Hong Kong to find her birth mother. However, customs records showed Zhao Lanyue had never left the country—unless she had illegally crossed the border with human smugglers, which would complicate matters further.

In gender violence cases, victims’ family backgrounds were often bizarre but invariably unhappy. Xu Zhangying had always made it a habit to thoroughly understand both the victim’s and the suspect’s family environments. He glanced at his watch, still feeling a little out of it as he stood by the curb. After a moment of blank staring, he finally flagged down a taxi.

Zhao Xiuzhen’s home wasn’t far from the Municipal Public Security Bureau, located in a residential area near the seafood market, about a ten-minute drive away. Following his GPS, Xu Zhangying weaved through the streets until he arrived at an old-style apartment building. The first-floor resident, upon hearing him ask for Zhao Xiuzhen, immediately guessed he was either a cop or a reporter and told him Zhao Xiuzhen had taken her grandson to kindergarten and wouldn’t be back for another half hour.

Left with no choice, Xu Zhangying walked to the mouth of the alley and, dodging packs of schoolkids, found a seemingly authentic breakfast stall and took a seat.

It felt like a lifetime since he’d last eaten street breakfast in the country. He ordered a serving of rice noodle rolls and barbecue pork buns and sat on the small stool to wait.

Just then, as waves of noisy children and parents flooded the streets for the morning school rush, an imported car—completely out of place in the chaotic alley—inexplicably drove in. The driver soon realized the road conditions were unsuitable and reversed to park outside the alley. Then, a young man in a white shirt and casual slacks stepped out of the driver’s seat, a bag slung over one shoulder.

Since Xu Zhangying’s breakfast stall was right at the alley’s entrance, the moment the man got out of the car, their eyes met.

When Xia Qing walked over, Xu Zhangying froze for a second, half-convinced he was dreaming—otherwise, why would he be seeing the Xia Qing from his university days?