After An Alpha Discovered I Have Pheromone Deficiency Syndrome - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Tender Hearts Will Appear

Pei Yu helped the little fox hop up to the school gate, only to have his wrist gently grabbed.

“Professor Pei, it hurts so much…”

The little fox blinked with a half-raised head and let out a soft, sweet sound, stretching the tone just slightly in a playful way.

Hua Che softened her voice, adopting the most charming and coquettish tone she knew.

Everyone could see through the acting at once, yet still fell for the clumsy act.

Pei Yu pursed his lips, looking down at the fox who was holding his wrist gently, and said with deliberate calm:

“Wait for me here, I’ll drive to the garage.”

“Eh…”

Hua Che grabbed him as he turned to leave and took a step forward.

“I get motion sickness; riding isn’t good for me.”

Pei Yu raised an eyebrow, a deeper smile forming.

“Want me to carry you?”

Hua Che’s face struggled to hide the smile, lips slightly pursed, but her eyes curved in delight.

“You’re the one who said that.”

The fox boy tilted his chin proudly, as if he’d won a childlike game.

This tsundere energy fit the mischievous little fox so perfectly.

Pei Yu shook his head in mock exasperation but couldn’t help feeling soft-hearted toward Hua Che’s innocent expression.

He crouched slightly, turning his back to Hua Che.

“Hop on.”

The little fox leapt onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck.

Leaning sideways, resting on this strong, well-trained back, the fox’s feet swung gently on either side.

His tail slipped out from under his coat, brushing over Pei Yu’s intertwined fingers.

Hua Che pressed close, his side against the man’s shoulder blade, softly rubbing.

Sunlight warmed them, his chest pressed against a warm back.

Unconsciously, the circles under his eyes reddened, and the tip of his nose tingled with emotion.

“…Professor Pei.”

Hua Che tightened his arms, clutching the neck tightly.

His voice trembled, a faint sob buried deep in his soft tone.

“I don’t want to go back.”

Pei Yu’s steps slowed, feeling the tightening grip on his neck shiver slightly.

He felt something soft brush against his neck; looking back, he saw plush, pink fox ears.

“I can stay out with you a little longer. Want to visit other colleges?”

“No… No, I snuck out. If the store manager finds out, he’ll beat me.”

Hua Che laid his head on the man’s back, eyes glossy with tears.

He sniffled softly:

“Why does such a warm and cozy path lead to nightmares?”

Pei Yu’s heart ached.

The hands around his neck turned cold and stiff, trembling alongside the twitching fox ears.

His pace slowed to a near halt, the usual bumps on his back smoothed away.

A low sobbing sound came from behind, like biting back the urge to cry aloud.

The fox’s tail rested weakly on Pei Yu’s hand, lifeless like a stuffed toy.

A sudden wave of helplessness washed over him, and he felt an urge to change course — to take the little fox anywhere but back.

Home, Kyoto University, anywhere to hide Hua Che from the darkness.

But he couldn’t. Hua Che was still bound with dangerous restraints.

So, step by step, Pei Yu reluctantly led the little fox back to the den.

“When’s the next dance at Lingguan?”

“Should be a while… My foot’s hurt, so I need to rest.”

Suppressing his tears, Hua Che whispered,

“Will you come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come see you.”

Lingguan was an expensive place, and spending a night with Hua Che cost a lot.

But Pei Yu, usually calm and composed, agreed on impulse.

Even if it might be a trap.

“I shouldn’t have come out,” Hua Che murmured, burying his face in Pei Yu’s back, his voice muffled and tinged with sadness.

“Every time I sneak out, it takes all my courage to return.”

“If you’d never seen the sun and lived in a gutter all your life, you wouldn’t have any hopes.”

“Don’t say that, little fox.”

Pei Yu turned slightly, stroking the soft fox fur near his face and lips.

Warm, soft fur glowing in the sunlight.

“You’re born from the sun.”

In his twenties, the dawn of his life and freedom, yet bound by such chains.

Pei Yu stayed longer than usual, lingering at school after his studies and into his teaching career.

Carrying the little fox beyond the campus walls, he never felt the laughter and chatter of the students so cruel before.

They stopped in a back alley of Lingguan, where Fujiwara Yoshihiro lowered a soft ladder.

“I’m heading back first, Professor Pei.”

Hua Che balanced a bag of medicine on his wrist as he held the ladder.

“Thanks for today… I’ll be better prepared next time.”

“Prepared?”

Pei Yu thought of the bells.

“You still want to wear those bells?”

“No, no!”

Hua Che’s cheeks flushed pink, matching his fox ears.

“I’ll wear pretty skirts, dances you haven’t seen, nice accessories…”

Pei Yu slipped his hands into his pockets, watching the little fox describe how he’d try to charm him.

Most of the words barely registered.

“In short, I’ll satisfy you.”

Hua Che gripped the rope ladder and seriously instructed:

“So you must come—I’ll be waiting.”

“Please come…”

His voice turned into a quiet plea.

The little fox lacked confidence but knew some things couldn’t be forced.

“I’ll come, don’t worry.”

Pei Yu pulled out his phone.

“Let me add your contact info.”

“What?”

Hua Che froze.

As a Lingguan artist, he rarely shared contact details with guests.

Pei Yu smiled faintly.

“Do you plan to keep messaging me through the question box?”

The fox ears twitched, and the blush deepened.

Pei Yu unlocked his phone and handed it over.

“WeChat or phone.”

Hesitating, Hua Che entered his number.

He paused at the name field, switched to pinyin, typed “little fox,” and added a pink heart emoji.

Among Pei Yu’s contacts—professors, directors, and doctors—the entry “little fox 💗” stood out like a splash of color.

Pei Yu looked at the pink heart, then at Hua Che, who pretended to be nonchalant, and smiled softly.

So adorable.

“I’m going back now, Professor Pei. See you next time.”

Hua Che climbed the ladder, paused, then called out with a shy but hopeful tone:

“You must come, Professor Pei! I’ll wait for you.”

Pei Yu held the ladder steady, patiently replying, “I’ll come,” “Definitely.”

It reminded him of parents sending kids to school, listening to their nervous instructions to “come pick me up early,” “really early,” “come as soon as class ends.”

The little fox was anxious, and Pei Yu, a psychiatrist, understood that well.

Hua Che endured the pain in his ankle, climbed the ladder, grabbed Fujiwara Yoshihiro’s hand, and slipped inside.

Looking back, Pei Yu stayed, protecting the ladder.

His phone rang — an unfamiliar number.

“This is my number. You can message me anytime.”

Pei Yu’s voice came through.

“Professor Pei, your suit got wet, but I tore it a bit on the shoulders. If you want, I can toss it out the window.”

Hua Che held the wet suit, the little embroidered fox on the shoulder seeming alive.

“No, keep it.”

“I sewed a little fox on your shoulder.”

“…”

Silence on the other end.

“I’m downstairs.”

Hua Che laughed softly, and a clear voice floated through the phone.

He lay on the windowsill, tossing the suit down.

“Next time, Professor Pei.”

The suit landed firmly in Pei Yu’s hands.

Hua Che leaned out, fox ears perked up in excitement.

Watching Pei Yu gently stroke the tiny fox embroidered on the suit, studying it carefully.

“Do you like my gift?”

Pei Yu looked up at the plush pink fox head poking out, smiling gently.

“I do. It’s as cute as you.”

After hanging up, Hua Che saved the number in his phone.

Note: Pei Yu’s contact saved as “little fox 💗”