Meddling in too many affairs

Wu Qie withdrew from the crowd, went to a corner, asked a server for a glass of red wine, and sat down.

He really was hungry.

But unfortunately, the stomach is an emotional organ—so even though his stomach was already aching with hunger, looking at the exquisite dishes laid out on the long table not far away, he couldn’t muster any appetite.

He sat quietly in the corner for a while, until a plate of foie gras steak and a slice of cream grape cake were set down in front of him.

The chair beside him was pulled out, and the Alpha in a light gray suit sat down next to him.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Pei Qingyu asked. “If you’re hungry, why didn’t you get anything?”

Wu Qie’s gaze shifted from the Alpha’s face to the window.

His expression was calm, but under the table, his hands betrayed him—resting over his lower abdomen, they shifted uneasily, his right hand, slightly sweaty and warm, pressing over the cold back of his left hand.

—It wasn’t like he was expecting anything to happen.

After all, up to now, aside from everyday conversations and the occasional physical contact while playing basketball, apart from that one dinner after being alone together, they hadn’t had any relationship beyond teacher and student…

Did being friends count?

Probably not.

He knew that his one-sided crush—endlessly affected by the other’s words and actions—was somewhat ridiculous, so he had never thought of taking it out on him, nor showing any inexplicable dissatisfaction that might trouble the other person…

A secret crush is like fireworks in broad daylight.

Quiet yet explosive under the cover of the background—only the one who lights them knows they ever burned.

Wu Qie had always handled it well. As long as Pei Qingyu could keep his distance, they could maintain the current balance.

“I’ll just sit for a bit,” Wu Qie said with a gentle smile, his eyes slightly curved, flawless. “Pei, you can go take care of your own things. No need to stay here wasting time with me.”

He meant it. He had already noticed for the third time that in a corner of the banquet hall, Pei Qin was looking over at them.

He was probably thinking of having his son go socialize, not sit in a corner accompanying some inexplicable person slacking off.

Pei Qingyu didn’t respond. After a while, he suddenly reached over, pulled Wu Qie’s plate closer, and cut the foie gras and steak for him.

His long fingers, when holding a pen, always wrote answers that satisfied most teachers; even when cutting steak, his refined table manners made the motion look especially pleasing.

Wu Qie watched for a moment, until Pei Qingyu placed the food back in front of him.

“Zhao Shu said you went to the cemetery early in the morning, ate a bit of salad at noon, and followed the burial in the afternoon. He told me to keep an eye on you.”

Pei Qingyu’s voice was calm, merely stating a fact. Wu Qie lowered his head to look at the neatly cut food, feeling that the juice seeping from the steak looked nauseating.

—Why do humans even have mouths?

Wu Qie thought in despair.

If he were mute, and Pei Qingyu had just prepared the food like this and left, maybe he would’ve had just a little motivation to finish it.

“Why that expression?” Pei Qingyu asked. “Did you and Zhao Shu argue again?”

As soon as he spoke, the black-haired Beta beside him suddenly lifted his head.

Their eyes met unexpectedly. Pei Qingyu, being as perceptive as he was, almost immediately noticed that Wu Qie’s mood was off—and that it didn’t seem to be directed at Zhao Shu.

But before he could think further, Wu Qie pushed away the plate and stood up.

“I don’t like grapes.”

The black-haired Beta threw out that sentence and, without looking at him again, hurried toward the dessert table.

He could feel that behind him, Pei Qingyu’s gaze remained fixed on him.

…

Wu Qie pretended to choose desserts, standing by the dessert table for a while, only to realize that what he actually wanted was still that cream grape cake. Everything else looked too sweet and cloying.

He should’ve just said he had a sore throat and couldn’t chew steak.

Facing an entire tray of untouched opera cakes, he found it hard to start. Just as he was cornering himself, he suddenly felt someone approach from behind.

…No hostility at all.

He turned around and saw Lin Zuwen standing there.

He had never spoken privately with this student, but seeing him now, clearly wanting to talk, he could more or less guess what it was about…

His gaze briefly drifted to the Omega’s slender neck, to the bite-prevention collar.

Earlier, when everyone saw his watch, he had heard what they said about Lin Zuwen’s collar…

Though at the time his mind had been stuck on Pei Qingyu saying the most inappropriate things possible.

Now, it just gave him a headache.

At that moment, Lin Zuwen moved his lips—before he could say a word, his eyes had already reddened.

A delicate Omega crying always looked pitiful and beautiful. Back when Wu Qie had been abandoned on the street, he hadn’t said a word to Lan Yin—now he just wanted to sigh.

“Teacher Wu,” Lin Zuwen asked bluntly, “did you do it on purpose?”

Wu Qie picked up a plate and asked seriously, “Standing here instead of eating? Yeah, that was on purpose.”

But Lin Zuwen clearly didn’t care whether he had eaten. He probably wished he’d just starve.

Sure enough, Lin Zuwen pointed at his wrist. Now, with his hands at his sides, nothing could be seen—only the tailored sleeve fitting perfectly around his wrist.

“You wore that watch today… to show off, right? So that everyone can see that what Mr. Zhao gave me is nothing in comparison…”

He paused, his voice trembling. “Teacher Wu, were you trying to embarrass me?”

…Though in reality, it was nothing worth mentioning.

But Wu Qie wasn’t about to take the blame.

“You’re overthinking.”

Wu Qie swore his tone was gentle—he meant that this matter had already passed, and there was no need to bring it up again.

But he hadn’t expected that as soon as he said that, Lin Zuwen’s eyes would turn even redder.

“Really? Didn’t you see how everyone looked at me?

Like I’m some ridiculous clown holding onto something cheap, thinking it’s a treasure—”

“Lin Zuwen.”

Wu Qie interrupted him.

Lin Zuwen was already on the verge of tears.

Wu Qie thought to himself that even for an Omega, being this fragile—like a vine that collapses at the slightest breeze—was a bit much…

Before anyone else noticed, he decided to end this quickly.

He raised three fingers.

“First, I didn’t know you’d wear that sapphire collar today. If I were you, I wouldn’t take back something that was publicly given away. If it came back to me, I’d throw it away, and I’d never use the same thing again.”

“Second, this watch appeared today only because it matches my suit. It has no other function—I wasn’t even planning to use it to check the time.”

Normally gentle, Teacher Wu could still be imposing when he spoke seriously.

Lin Zuwen’s eyes and nose were red. He clutched his sleeve and stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh.”

Already irritated, Wu Qie lost patience and changed his tone.

“Then don’t.”

Lin Zuwen choked.

“This watch appeared in my collection after your coming-of-age ceremony,” Wu Qie said coolly, glancing at him. “Not to mention whether it proves anything—if I wanted to prove something, I wouldn’t have waited until today.

If I had really cared about you stealing the spotlight with that collar, this watch would’ve shown up right after class back then, earlier than the medical collar Zhao Shu bought—not now.”

“It’s been so many days. Any effect it might’ve had would’ve faded already.”

After speaking, Wu Qie frowned slightly, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

They were about the same height, so they could normally talk at eye level—but now, with his eyes slightly raised, his usually gentle face carried a faint sharpness from looking down.

At school, people always described Teacher Wu as low-key, honest, and mild-tempered.

But at this moment, under the overly bright banquet lighting, the black-haired Beta seemed to carry the same innate arrogance and superiority as people like Pei Qingyu or Zhao Shu.

“Stop reading trashy melodramas. Zhao Shu and I are just a business marriage.

It’s not that serious—I’m not bored enough to play these petty games with a student.”

With that, he picked up an empty plate, selected a strawberry cream puff, and walked back to his seat.

—Better than staying here being accused of jealousy, or going back to listen to Pei Qingyu’s unpleasant nonsense.

…

When Wu Qie returned, Pei Qingyu was still there. Pei Qin, who had been watching earlier, was gone, and so were Zhao Guipu and the others.

Well, it wasn’t like Mr. Zhao would spend the whole night playing along with this social performance.

He was probably already impatient—otherwise, someone as attentive as him wouldn’t have failed to notice his family emblem pin falling off earlier.

After sitting down, Wu Qie didn’t look at Pei Qingyu or speak to him.

He simply picked up his fork and took a couple bites of the cut steak and foie gras.

But he knew Pei Qingyu was watching him.

“Did Lin Zuwen talk to you about the watch?”

Wu Qie responded with a low “Mm,” clearly unwilling to continue the topic.

Pei Qingyu took the hint and didn’t press further, just sat there watching him eat.

Wu Qie ate carefully and neatly—small bites, quick but silent.

The food seemed to disappear the moment it entered his mouth, and even the rich foie gras didn’t leave any trace on his lips.

His lowered lashes were long, and under the light they looked like soft down, trembling slightly as he chewed.

“Teacher Wu.”

Pei Qingyu rested his chin on one hand, his expression calm.

“You’re right. The engagement should end sooner rather than later.”

The words felt abrupt even to him.

Wu Qie turned to look at him.

Pei Qingyu remained composed, his gaze briefly sweeping over Wu Qie’s lips, faintly glossy with oil.

“They’re pale,” he noticed.

“The last time Zhao Shu left you at the court to attend Lin Zuwen’s coming-of-age banquet—it might not have been intentional,” he said evenly. “He may simply not have been able to refuse.”

“…?”

“The existence of the ‘Aphrodite’s Eye’ is trouble for Alphas, especially for someone like Zhao Shu, who easily gets emotionally involved.”

Easily gets emotionally involved?

Who are we talking about?

A parallel universe version of Zhao Shu?

“…So you mean he’ll become Lin Zuwen’s s*ave? That does sound bad.”

Wu Qie said.

But he didn’t actually sound like he thought it was bad at all.

Pei Qingyu chuckled softly.

“Ordinary Alphas can demand a permanent mark be removed, or even pay to have an Omega’s gland removed—but ‘Aphrodite’s Eye’ is mutual. It’s not easy to sever emotionally.”

Wu Qie didn’t respond.

Mainly because he didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t need a biology lesson.

As a Beta, he didn’t care about Alpha-Omega dynamics.

What he cared about was the latter half—

Removing a permanent mark was like forcibly tearing a soul from a body—cruel, especially for Omegas.

And gland removal?

Illegal. A serious crime.

This didn’t sound like something Pei Qingyu would say.

“What? Scared?”

Pei Qingyu noticed his reaction and paused, realizing he might’ve gone too far—even for a Beta.

He adjusted his posture.

“Just saying,” he said lightly. “If you have to marry an Alpha, you could consider someone else.

Compared to someone with a destined Omega, Zhao Shu isn’t suitable for you.”

Consider who?

You?

Wu Qie opened his mouth to speak—

Then—

Crash.

A loud commotion erupted near the drinks table.

They both turned.

The champagne tower had collapsed, glasses shattered, golden liquid spilling everywhere.

“What are you doing?!”

Standing in the mess was a pale Omega wearing a cheap, disposable collar.

A manager rushed forward, grabbed him, and began yelling.

The Omega, terrified, kept apologizing as he was dragged toward the side exit.

As they passed by, Wu Qie recognized him—

Duan Bairui.

His student.

Quiet. Introverted. Scholarship student.

He instinctively glanced at Pei Qingyu.

The Alpha remained still, as if nothing had happened.

When Wu Qie looked at him, he tilted his head slightly and asked calmly:

“What? Thinking of getting involved?”

Zhao Shu’s voice echoed in his mind—

—He only helped you because of your background.

Wu Qie blinked.

Then asked quietly:

“Zhao Shu said you helped me before because you knew who my father was.”

Pei Qingyu looked at him steadily.

“If I were just a random passerby… you’d still sit here and do nothing, right?”

Silence.

Then Pei Qingyu smiled faintly.

“No need for that assumption, Teacher Wu.”

“You are Wu Qie. There’s no need to imagine another reality.”

The air stilled.

Wu Qie said nothing more.

He stood up and walked away in the direction Duan Bairui had been taken.

Pei Qingyu remained seated, thinking.

About that last look.

Because in that moment he thought he saw it.

Disappointment.

Something retreating, like a tide pulling back from those deep, dark eyes.