The Things You Shouldn’t Reply To

Wu Qie had rarely found himself as lost as he was now, completely unsure of what he should do next.

By all logic, he should have rushed forward to stop Zhao Shu.

But the moment he took a step, the restless black-and-white kitten in the cardboard box wriggled halfway out and began crying, “Mii, mii, mii!”

By the time he scrambled to catch the kitten before it face-planted onto the floor, Pei Qingyu had already turned his head, spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva, grabbed Zhao Shu by the collar, and punched him squarely in the exact same spot he’d just been hit.

Zhao Shu took the punch and froze.

“You hit me?!”

Pei Qingyu’s voice was hoarse.

“I already hit you. What else is there to ask?”

One hand holding a kitten.

The other clutching the cardboard box.

The cries of several kittens—”Ying ying ying!” “Mii mii mii!”—mixed together with the sounds of two Alpha boys exchanging punches and kicks nearby.

Wu Qie suddenly felt that if he rushed out right now and shouted, “Stop fighting, both of you!”, he could perfectly recreate one of those melodramatic TVB romance scenes that had gone out of style three hundred years ago.

But even after everything that had happened, he hadn’t completely abandoned his sense of shame.

When he felt embarrassed, his toes still instinctively curled hard enough to dig holes in the ground.

Or, in this case, into the soles of his slippers.

Besides, he could tell with his toes that no matter how loudly he shouted, neither of them would listen.

After weighing the pros and cons, Wu Qie decisively took a step backward.

Retreated into his room.

Then, while Zhao Shu was trying to shove Pei Qingyu into the pouring rain outside while yelling about “washing his brain out,” Wu Qie expressionlessly lifted a foot and kicked the heavy hotel door shut.

Bang.

The world instantly became quiet.

Rain crashed down outside.

The heater hummed warmly inside.

The kittens’ cries suddenly sounded heavenly.

The irritation that had been churning inside him settled down all at once.

Wu Qie tossed the black-and-white kitten back into the box and sat cross-legged beneath the air conditioner.

He grabbed a packet of cleansing wipes from the coffee table and patiently picked up each kitten one by one, drying the rainwater from their fur.

After finishing, he draped a bath towel over the top of the box to prevent any further jailbreak attempts.

Then he slowly stood up.

He called room service and ordered hot goat’s milk along with a medicine dropper that could serve as a temporary baby bottle.

The receptionist’s voice was gentle.

“Certainly, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

Yes.

Please inform housekeeping that regardless of casualties, they should kindly drive the two dogs away from my door.

“No.”

Wu Qie replied stiffly.

“Thank you.”

After hanging up, he stood there blankly for a while.

Then someone knocked on the door.

Room service wasn’t The Flash.

Which meant the person outside could only be one of the two Alphas who had just been fighting.

When Wu Qie opened the door, he was fully prepared to see either one of them.

Instead, both of them were standing there.

One on the left.

One on the right.

One expressionless.

The other frowning impatiently.

They were both tall enough to block out all the light from the hallway.

Like a pair of guardian deities.

Or two drowned dogs that had lost all their fur.

Both sported fresh bruises on their faces.

“Finished fighting?”

Wu Qie almost wanted to applaud his own intelligence.

Sure enough, instead of throwing himself between them like the heroine of some soap opera, ignoring them had been the correct choice.

They had quickly figured out one very important fact:

Even if one of them won, that didn’t mean he could immediately drag Teacher Wu into the bridal chamber, mark him, and claim him.

Nobody had ever promised such a thing.

Zhao Shu leaned against the doorframe.

Heat rolled off his body alongside leaking pheromones.

He had probably bitten his tongue or split the inside of his mouth during the fight.

His words carried the scent of blood.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Didn’t you stop liking him already?”

“If that’s the case, then him kissing you is harassment.”

“It’s a crime.”

“At the very least it violates some article in the Public Security Administration Punishment Law.”

“So why couldn’t you just punch him like you punched me?”

“Why did I have to do it for you?”

Wu Qie’s gaze swept over Zhao Shu’s face.

After listening to that pile of nonsense, he shifted his attention to Pei Qingyu.

The Alpha looked worse than before.

His face had gone from pale to faintly bluish.

Only the abnormal flush on his cheeks remained.

He looked even sicker than he had earlier.

The moment their eyes met, Pei Qingyu seemed to want to say something.

As though he were struggling to suppress something.

Beside him, Zhao Shu impatiently jabbed him with an elbow, urging him to speak.

Pei Qingyu remained silent.

The kittens behind them continued crying.

The two Alpha boys at the door stared at him with bright, unwavering eyes.

Wu Qie finally lost what little patience he had left.

They seemed to want an answer from him.

But they both already knew they would never get the answer they wanted.

Wu Qie didn’t understand why people insisted on clinging to a process when they already knew the outcome.

After one last glance at Pei Qingyu, he turned around and returned to the sofa.

Then he resumed fussing over his box of kittens.

The kittens had mostly dried under the heater.

One black kitten had climbed onto another and fallen asleep.

Wu Qie picked up the furry little heating pad and moved it aside.

“Since you liked me before…”

The voice from the doorway was filled with restraint.

And something else hidden underneath.

“Why can’t you keep liking me?”

Wu Qie froze.

The kitten in his hand stopped moving.

For a brief instant, all emotion disappeared from his face.

Then something unfamiliar spread through his chest.

Once, he had desperately clung to every life-saving straw he could find.

He had never considered that after the floodwaters receded, he might be saved.

But the straws he had desperately grabbed and dragged askew…

The ones that could never return to what they had been before…

What would become of them?

Wu Qie lowered his gaze to the black-and-white kitten resting in his palm.

Through its thin belly, he could feel warmth.

And beneath that warmth, a faint but steady heartbeat.

Perhaps that tiny bit of warmth gave him courage.

He raised his head.

Pei Qingyu was still standing at the doorway.

There was silence in his eyes.

And confusion.

The confusion of someone who no longer knew how to proceed.

He looked nothing like the reliable model student everyone knew.

Cold wind swept through the corridor.

The torrential rain behind the Alpha formed a curtain of water that endlessly washed over the earth.

Rain splashed into the hallway.

Onto the boys standing there.

They wanted something from him.

But as of today.

At least at this moment.

He had nothing he could give.

“I’m sorry.”

Wu Qie blinked.

His voice was dry when he answered.

Wu Qie spent an unusually peaceful afternoon.

His only companions were a box full of kittens sleeping contentedly after drinking warm goat’s milk.

The morning’s chaos ended before it could escalate any further.

Pei Qingyu became even quieter than usual.

And, surprisingly, Zhao Shu also turned into a mute.

Before leaving, the young master of the Zhao family gave Wu Qie one long look.

Then, for the first time in forever, he spent the entire afternoon without sending random messages.

Instead, he became unusually active on Picline, apparently spending hours liking entertainment news posts.

Wu Qie was bored enough to want a nap.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about that final look Zhao Shu had given him.

He couldn’t quite explain what emotion had been hidden inside it.

No matter how naive Zhao Shu could be, he was still an S-rank Alpha.

When Zhao Shu had looked at him like that, the hairs on the back of Wu Qie’s neck had practically stood on end.

He genuinely wondered if he’d accidentally trampled on another top Alpha’s dignity.

After all, the last time he’d done something similar, he had somehow survived with minimal consequences.

The more he thought about it, the stranger it felt.

Eventually he messaged Rhine for advice.

After hearing the story, Rhine replied with a long string of ellipses.

Then he sent a screenshot.

Teacher Wu discovered that his contact nickname had been changed to:

Scumbag B

It looked suspiciously like an insult.

When Wu Qie protested, Rhine sent another screenshot.

This time it had become:

Scumbag Male B

No longer a swear word.

Now he resembled the disposable cannon-fodder extra in a melodramatic romance novel.

[Little Ci, Please Reply To Me: After getting dumped by Rhine, are you taking revenge on the entire Alpha population without discrimination? Alphas have hearts too. They get hurt.]

Although that wasn’t the truth, Rhine’s words somehow made Wu Qie feel even guiltier.

[Wu Qie: I already apologized.]

[Little Ci, Please Reply To Me: …You’re playing with people’s feelings. It would honestly be kinder if you just told them to get lost.]

Wu Qie immediately launched into a lengthy defense.

He wasn’t playing with anyone’s feelings.

People like him simply couldn’t make promises.

[Little Ci, Please Reply To Me: What kind of person are you?]

[Wu Qie: Broken?]

[Little Ci, Please Reply To Me: …]

Just as Rhine began sending a series of sixty-second voice messages that Wu Qie had no intention of listening to, new messages appeared in the joint training group chat.

Sun Mi tagged everyone.

Pei Qingyu’s condition had worsened.

There were only a limited number of S-rank Alpha inhibitors available.

Once they ran out, if his condition still hadn’t improved, he would need to be transferred elsewhere.

That would require adjustments to both training schedules and tactical plans.

The group immediately erupted into mourning.

Everyone lamented the same thing:

Without Pei Qingyu, who in the entire gym could catch Zhao Shu’s passes besides Teacher Wu?

The students knew nothing about the afternoon’s events.

They frantically tagged Pei Qingyu.

Then Zhao Shu.

Then, naturally, their beloved Teacher Wu.

Looking at the three usernames lined up together, Wu Qie thought:

So this is what people mean by a Shura field.

While he was sighing, Pei Qingyu suddenly appeared.

He sent a single:

[^_^]

Then tagged Wu Qie.

[Pei Qingyu: Teacher Wu, want to catch passes for me instead?]

Wu Qie immediately felt like there was hidden meaning behind that message.

So he replied:

[Wu Qie: There are always more solutions than difficulties. Why don’t we work hard and overcome it?]

He set down his phone.

For some reason, he felt like Pei Qingyu was plotting something again.

The thought lingered long enough that he eventually decided to visit the isolation ward himself.

To make sure.

As evening approached, the rain finally stopped.

The winter night after the storm felt even colder.

As Wu Qie passed groups of students from the various schools, he overheard them discussing the weather.

“It might snow tonight.”

Because of its function, the isolation treatment ward was located in a relatively remote area.

In truth, its facilities weren’t much better than an ordinary school infirmary.

By the time Wu Qie arrived, it was already dinner time.

Only a male Beta nurse was on duty.

The nurse was sitting by the entrance.