After An Alpha Discovered I Have Pheromone Deficiency Syndrome - Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Taking the Most Precious One

In Pei Yu’s arms, the dam finally broke.

Everything Hua Che had bottled up—the pain, the grief, the years of quiet suffering—rushed out in sobs so violent they left him gasping for breath. His hands clutched tightly at the fabric of Pei Yu’s shirt, as if letting go would mean shattering completely.

Pei Yu held him gently, his brows furrowed in anguish. He didn’t speak right away. He just rubbed circles along Hua Che’s back, silently encouraging him to cry it out. No comforting lies, no well-rehearsed therapeutic script—just a quiet, steady presence that said: You’re safe now.

He knew from experience—sometimes, falling apart is the first step to healing.

And yet, his heart ached. It had never hurt like this.

For all his expertise as a psychiatrist at Kyoto University, Pei Yu found himself at a loss. He had helped countless patients: teens paralyzed by obsessive routines, Omegas lost in postpartum depression, war veterans haunted by trauma, and savants drowning in manic highs and crushing lows.

Each case he approached with clinical precision. Calm, calculated. Professionalism had always been his armor. Empathy—real, personal, consuming empathy—was dangerous. It blurred boundaries. It burned.

But Hua Che shattered that boundary the moment he came into his life.

His little fox wasn’t a line in a textbook. Hua Che didn’t fit into tidy diagnostic categories or treatment flowcharts. And Pei Yu couldn’t stay detached. He’d already stepped into the fire.

And somehow, that fire was sweet.

“Hua Hua…” Pei Yu’s voice cracked, hoarse with emotion. “I don’t agree with what you did… risking your life like that…”

He swallowed hard.

“I was terrified.”

Hua Che trembled in his embrace, and his crying grew louder, as if Pei Yu’s words unlocked another layer of sorrow.

“I kept calling you, over and over,” Pei Yu said, his voice strained. “I couldn’t do anything. My colleagues had to handle your emergency. I was useless.”

He clutched him tighter, as if to make sure Hua Che couldn’t vanish from his arms.

“But you made it. You were brave. Braver than anyone I’ve ever known.”

He gently kissed the corner of Hua Che’s swollen eye.

“Thank you… for choosing to come toward me.”

“Let me take it from here.”

Hua Che sniffled, then asked in a husky, tear-choked voice:

“Do you… still blame me?”

Pei Yu exhaled slowly. He looked down at the tear-streaked face pressed against his chest.

“How could I ever blame you?”

For the first time, Hua Che smiled. It was faint, weak—but it was there.

He dove into Pei Yu’s embrace again, burying his red, puffy face into his chest.

Even as more tears soaked through Pei Yu’s shirt, the professor didn’t flinch.

“I once saw your photo on the wall of the psych department,” Hua Che whispered.

“I thought… wow, he’s so far away. Too high up. Out of reach.”

His voice was softer now, almost amused.

“I never thought I’d see you at Lingguan. And when I did… I plotted a lot of ways to lure you in.”

“I figured, you’re an Alpha. Alphas never leave once they’ve entered the fox’s trap. You’d be cold at first, but eventually…”

Pei Yu murmured, “I wasn’t cold.”

Hua Che’s ears twitched mischievously and brushed against his chin. He smiled, content.

“Then tell me, if it hadn’t rained on Saturday… would that sentence still have been true?”

The one where you said you wanted to take me away.

Among Pei Yu’s five statements that day, only “It will rain Saturday” was a lie. The rest—including that one—were true.

Pei Yu was silent for a beat. Then said softly:

“Then I would’ve lied and said I don’t like pink.”

Because taking Hua Che away… was never a lie.

Surprised, Hua Che looked up, smiling wide. Then he shyly buried his face against Pei Yu’s chest again, only the tips of his flushed ears peeking out.

“Then I’ll dye my fur another color.”

“Gold. Red. Snow-white. Anything but pink.”

Pei Yu chuckled, his tired eyes crinkling with affection.

“You’re fine just as you are.”

He reached up to ruffle Hua Che’s soft, pink hair, gently tugging at his ears.

“Lucky for you it rained… or you’d have ruined your adorable fox coat.”

Later, Pei Yu made his way to Lingguan alone.

The store manager greeted him with a forced smile, clearly overwhelmed by the fallout from Hua Che’s public suicide attempt. Business had taken a hit. Reporters swarmed the place. Clients were dropping off fast.

“Come in,” the manager said, oddly polite. “Have some tea.”

Pei Yu didn’t touch the cup.

“I’m here to take Hua Che,” he said without hesitation. “That’s the fastest way to end the scandal.”

To Lingguan, Hua Che had become a liability—a ticking time bomb. If he ever spoke publicly about the abuse or the forced drugging, it would ruin them. But if they retaliated with blackmail—exposing his illegal status, leaking old photos—they’d both be destroyed.

And the store manager knew exactly how dangerous Hua Che could be. He had nothing left to lose. He’d risk his life again if cornered.

The manager grumbled, tossing a USB drive onto the table.

“Cunning little brat…”

“The going rate for someone like him isn’t high. But I’m sure a professor like you doesn’t mind footing the bill.”

Certainly cheaper than buying out the entire establishment.

Without another word, Pei Yu pulled a blank check from his suit, filled it in cleanly, signed it, and slid it across the table.

He picked up the USB and tucked it into his coat pocket.

“I don’t want to hear another word about Hua Che from this place.”

The manager barely looked up, but muttered:

“Don’t worry. We won’t waste time spreading rumors about that little fox. The world does that just fine on its own.”

“You’d better hope so.”

Before leaving, Pei Yu called a friend in media relations and arranged for official statements to control the narrative.

The story circulated: Hua Che had a serious mental illness and had voluntarily left Lingguan to receive professional care.

Some people still whispered, still slandered the once-famous Fox Courtesan—but Pei Yu found every one of them and handed them to his legal team.

Hua Che had once endured every insult, every cruelty, with a brave face and a bowed head.

But now, under Pei Yu’s care, no one would get away with hurting him again.

While Pei Yu managed the aftermath, Hua Che, still in his hospital gown, quietly approached the consultation desk.

“Excuse me,” he said gently. “I’d like to check my medical bill.”