After An Alpha Discovered I Have Pheromone Deficiency Syndrome - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Prickly Fox Quietly Watches People

Only two people remained in the classroom.

Hua Che froze when he heard the unexpected nickname. His fox ears perked up, pushing the fisherman’s hat slightly upwards.

Two small, sharp tips poked out from beneath the fabric of the hat.

“You… what did you just call me?” he asked, voice a little shaky.

“Pink Fox,” Pei Yu repeated, his voice carrying a crisp and proper British accent.

Hua Che lowered the hat to cover his ears again, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks.

“Does Professor Pei often invite students who attend his classes regularly out to dinner?” he asked tentatively.

“Hardly ever,” came the calm reply.

The little fox, clutching the brim of his hat, lifted his head slightly. His naturally pale complexion showed no makeup, his soft pink lips just a touch of color, giving him a fresh, innocent look that fit perfectly into the university setting.

He was well-dressed and slightly rounder than usual.

In this moment, Hua Che wasn’t the famed fox oiran from the internet, but simply a college student attending classes.

At twenty years old, it was only right to be here, listening to lectures in a bright and spacious room.

“I think I remember you,” Pei Yu said, finally placing the familiar face before him.

“You’ve come to my class before, haven’t you? Even stopped by to ask questions.”

Hua Che avoided the professor’s steady gaze but nodded softly.

Back when Kyoto University didn’t offer online open courses and still welcomed outsiders, Hua Che would secretly sit in on medical classes, using secondhand textbooks from the campus bookstore.

“There’s a nice restaurant nearby. Shall we go together?” Pei Yu offered.

Hua Che carefully rose from his seat but winced, limping a few steps.

Pei Yu stepped closer, gently holding his arm. His voice lowered as he asked, “What happened to your foot?”

“I twisted it climbing out the window,” Hua Che admitted.

“Climbing out a window?”

The fox ears beneath the hat twitched restlessly as the brim shifted a bit.

“I snuck out because I couldn’t leave through the main entrance.”

“When did my class become so unique?” Pei Yu remarked with a slight smile.

Hua Che leaned on Pei Yu for support, hopping on one leg. His soft ears bounced with every movement.

Lowering his head, he muttered teasingly, “You don’t think I’m here because of you, right?”

“Not at all.”

Hua Che paused, then settled down to rest as his ankle throbbed.

He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come.

Finally, he grumbled quietly, “I just wanted to see the school I like.”

His slight irritation and stubbornness made him seem more alive and genuine here than when confined in Lingguan.

Pei Yu smiled and tightened his hold.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should get checked at the school clinic?”

“It’s fine. Hunger hurts worse than this ankle.”

“Alright, then let’s eat first. I’ll follow your lead.”

Side by side, they strolled slowly, quietly enjoying the crisp autumn breeze without exchanging more words.

Pei Yu wanted to pull the little fox into a warm embrace, resting a hand firmly on his waist beneath the thick coat.

Hua Che leaned heavily on him, clutching his wrist tightly.

Though there was still occasional twinges in his ankle, his heart was the one truly restless.

He wasn’t just craving physical support.

He had obtained the care he once had to bargain desperately for—now freely and without condition.

The restaurant served steaming traditional Chinese dishes, fragrant and inviting.

Pei Yu asked about Hua Che’s preferences and ordered accordingly.

“Eat slowly and have plenty,” he encouraged.

Though Pei Yu’s slender frame suggested he kept strict control over his diet, Hua Che’s appetite was poor—especially when his mood was low—and he barely took a bite.

Though the food was delicious and true to his homeland’s flavors, Hua Che’s long-term pressure from Lingguan’s manager had dulled his sense of taste.

Everything he ate felt like chewing on wax.

“You said you were hungry, are you feeling full now?” Pei Yu asked, confused.

“Maybe… my appetite’s just off lately. Eating is uncomfortable.”

Hua Che bowed his head, shrinking inward.

The room was warm, his coat half-open, and his pink fox tail slipped out, trailing behind.

He picked it up, clutching it like a plush toy.

“The food smells great, but I… I can’t seem to eat.”

The little fox holding his tail looked fragile and lost.

“I understand,” Pei Yu said gently.

As a psychiatry professor, he recognized the signs—Hua Che’s mental state was worse than he thought, and eating disorders were often one symptom.

“Look at me, Hua Che,” Pei Yu commanded softly.

His voice was calm, kind, and steady—offering quiet guidance and an unspoken authority.

Hua Che obeyed, turning to meet his eyes in a daze.

“Take a bite, chew slowly,” Pei Yu instructed, feeding him a piece of rice cake.

“Tell me what it tastes like.”

The cake was subtly sweet with the scent of osmanthus blossoms lingering in the air.

“Sweet… with a hint of osmanthus,” Hua Che murmured.

“That’s good.”

Pei Yu smiled softly, holding the cake in his hands.

“Do you like it?”

Hua Che nodded, feeling a bit dazed but strangely comforted.

“Want another bite? Chew slowly this time too.”

“Yes… I want to eat.”

The little fox opened his mouth, his sharp canine teeth more prominent than humans’, and took the entire piece.

Sweet and floral…

For the first time in a long while, Hua Che allowed himself to savor the flavors.

By focusing on the taste and following Pei Yu’s instructions, his heart began to calm.

This was a known therapeutic method for eating disorders, especially when anxiety dulls one’s palate.

Pei Yu’s concise, professional guidance allowed Hua Che to focus without overthinking.

He ate slowly, while Pei Yu patiently fed him bite by bite.

“I’m full, Professor Pei…”

The feeling of fullness was clear and satisfying, despite not eating much.

Pei Yu, meanwhile, hadn’t touched his own meal.

“Sorry… kids shouldn’t have to do this sort of thing.”

“For a psychiatry professor, it’s more rewarding to help you eat than to fill my own stomach.”

Pei Yu asked the server to warm the remaining food and handed Hua Che a napkin.

“Besides, it’s fair to say you’re a child in front of me, right?”

Pei Yu carried the air of an elder—a man seasoned by years in his thirties with the calm to handle anything.

He was especially patient with Hua Che.

“I’m twenty though… not a child.”

Hua Che’s world had been locked inside Lingguan; everything beyond felt unfamiliar.

Even simple interactions with an Alpha—without the complication of alcohol or business ties—were new.

“You are a child, so I should take better care of you.”

Hua Che said nothing further, watching Pei Yu over the meal.

He cuddled his tail, sleepy after eating, resting his head upon it and gazing intently.

He looked like a fox quietly watching humans from the forest.

Later, Pei Yu escorted Hua Che to the infirmary.

The doctor confirmed no broken bones—just severely sprained ligaments that required several days of rest, forbidding weight-bearing or movement.

“That means no dancing for a while,” Hua Che muttered, watching his swollen ankle.

Pei Yu knelt down and gently raised the ankle, spraying medicine carefully.

The cold spray made Hua Che’s foot jerk and almost kicked Pei Yu by accident.

“Sorry…”

“Pain and inflammation. Apply twice a day—morning and night,” Pei Yu instructed calmly.

“No dancing. No forcing it.”

“Mm… understood.”

Hua Che sighed, holding the medicine bottle with drooping head.

No dancing meant no chance to see Professor Pei again on stage.

Pei Yu noticed the disappointment and asked quietly, “Do you want to dance?”

On the Lingguan stage, in revealing costumes, in front of so many eyes?

Hua Che immediately denied it, voice rising in volume.

“No!”

He sighed softly, then asked, “Professor Pei… do you like watching me dance?”

Pei Yu said nothing at first.

He stared at the red, swollen ankle—the injury from that brief escape over the wall.

Finally, he said quietly:

“I’d rather have you attend my lectures, little fox.”