After An Alpha Discovered I Have Pheromone Deficiency Syndrome - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Watching And Slipping Away

A video of Hua Chexian’s fiery dance went viral online, sparking another wave of excitement as usual.

Customers eager to book the “Fox Oiran” lined up, and some even tried to secure Hua Che’s company for the entire night through a bidding war.

However, the store manager was committed to the “scarcity marketing” strategy, steadily increasing the required spending and visit frequency to keep Hua Che out of reach.

“Only when something is rare do people truly value it,” the manager said with satisfaction, counting the earnings from this period, finally warming up to Hua Che, the golden goose.

“Closed for today, come back next time… it’s scheduled for Saturday.”

Saturday felt so far away.

Hua Che flipped through the MOOC app but hesitated long before deciding not to send a tentative message.

At the bottom of the interactive question box, Pei Yu’s last reply simply read: “Will do.”

“Brother Hua Che, the weather is lovely today. Want to go out for a walk?” Fujiwara Yoshihiro asked, hanging quilts on the balcony, enjoying the sunlight.

“The manager won’t allow it…” Hua Che lay on the window sill, bathed in warm sunlight that made his pink fox ears glow softly.

The store manager, worried about losing his cash cow, rarely let Hua Che go outside.

But Hua Che didn’t long for the outdoors too much.

Still locked up and dependent on medicine given by the manager to survive, escaping wouldn’t be easy.

“It’s nice to get some sunshine,” Fujiwara Yoshihiro said, checking to see if the person guarding the back door had started their shift.

He pulled out a soft rope ladder from the cabinet, just long enough to reach the ground from the second-floor balcony.

“I’ll watch out for you. Staying cooped up will only make you restless.”

After some thought, Hua Che put down his phone.

He planned to visit Kyoto University and thought of it as a small escape.

His bulky coat hid his fox tail, and a wide fisherman’s hat covered his ears.

Wrapped up completely, no one could tell that this “Fox Oiran” was the internet’s rising star.

He climbed down the balcony carefully.

The rope ladder wobbled under his weight, and when the middle ropes sagged, he almost lost balance.

One step from the ground, he jumped down but twisted his ankle.

“Ouch…”

He steadied himself, waved to Fujiwara Yoshihiro despite the pain, and limped around the back entrance of the Lingguan.

Thanks to his dulled pain senses, the slight sting didn’t slow him much.

After weaving through streets, Hua Che finally reached the gates of Kyoto University.

Once open to the public, the campus now had strict access controls.

Gathering courage, Hua Che quietly stopped a passing student.

“Hi, could you let me in? I’m a candidate for this year’s entrance exam, and I want to see my dream school.”

The little fox hid his demeanor, his face bright like any young person’s.

His clear eyes shone like fine glazed glass, and the autumn wind reddened his nose, giving him an innocent look.

The student was surprised but quickly recovered.

“Sure, come with me.”

Once inside, the kind student asked, “Which department are you aiming for? I’ll show you around.”

“Medical school. Psychiatry.”

The student was impressed by Hua Che’s firm answer.

“That’s quite a walk from the gate. Let’s take the campus shuttle. Swipe your student card here.”

“Thanks,” Hua Che said politely in flawless Sakura Crane language and bowed.

Kyoto University’s campus was lush, with golden ginkgo leaves under the sunlight, every corner picturesque.

Most students on the shuttle were engrossed in their phones.

Only Hua Che gazed out, eyes wide with wonder.

“We’re here at the medical school.”

The student dropped Hua Che at the building entrance.

“Want me to take a photo?”

“No, um… can you tell me where Professor Pei Yu from Psychiatry is?”

Hua Che touched his nose shyly.

“Is he teaching today?”

“I’ll check the schedule.”

The student flipped through his phone.

“Professor Pei is well-known on campus, even outside medical school. He’s the youngest full professor at 36.”

“Serious and reserved?”

Hua Che chuckled, remembering how Professor Pei once played the take-off clothes game with him.

“But he’s strict, focused on academics, patient with students, and emotionally steady as a rock.”

The student recited Pei Yu’s reputation from memory.

“Ah, he’s teaching now in room 1009, north building, right over there.”

Hua Che looked toward the building, thanked the student, and limped toward Classroom 1009.

Peering through the window, he saw the familiar figure.

Pei Yu wore a black turtleneck under a dark gray coat, standing tall with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a laser pointer.

Sunlight fell on him just so.

Professor Pei.

He was delivering a serious lecture, calm, confident, deeply knowledgeable.

His voice drifted out softly—rich and magnetic, undistorted by tech—carrying directly to Hua Che’s ears.

Hua Che lingered by the window, eyes growing moist.

The lecture paused suddenly, and Pei Yu glanced toward the window.

Outside, sunlight touched the flowerbed, creating a glow.

Their eyes met briefly—intense and focused—shutting out all distractions.

Hua Che’s eyes reddened further. He looked down, avoiding Pei Yu’s gaze, and limped toward the building’s entrance.

The lecture resumed, fading behind him.

The back door was left ajar, so Hua Che slipped inside quietly.

The rear seats were full; most students stared at their phones, some glancing at Hua Che, who had arrived late.

He stood awkwardly, wishing he could hide behind his fox ears.

Trying to leave quietly, he turned sideways.

“…Late arrival.”

Pei Yu’s voice rang out.

Frozen, Hua Che looked helplessly at the stage, silently pleading.

A soft, warm chuckle came.

“Sit up front.”

Hua Che understood the knowing smile—he had been recognized.

Holding the desk beside him, he carefully made his way down amid countless eyes, finally sitting in the first row.

“We’re about to wrap up. Let’s discuss the final exam. Open your books and outline the key chapters.”

The class snapped to attention, voices filling the room.

Hua Che’s seat in front was empty.

He lowered his head, hesitating to meet Pei Yu’s gaze.

A textbook lay before him, packed with colorful notes.

The elegant font, mixed with Sakura Crane calligraphy, gave it a majestic feel.

Hua Che looked up and saw Alpha standing tall like a wall nearby.

“The chapter I mentioned is the exam focus, covering 70% of the score. Everyone’s reviewing it closely.”

Pei Yu’s voice floated over, now audible in 3D rather than through a phone.

To mask his embarrassment, Hua Che flipped through the textbook, pretending to understand the annotations.

“Class will end a bit early today. Students with questions, come see me; others can go have lunch.”

Only a few stayed, lining up to ask Pei Yu about the exam.

Hua Che sat alone in the front row, surrounded by those waiting.

“Not even skipping Pei’s class, huh? Didn’t he say late arrivals usually score zero?”

A student waiting nearby struck up conversation.

“I’m just listening…”

Realizing the awkwardness, they soon sighed and left.

Pei Yu’s voice lingered in Hua Che’s ears.

“Review the emotional cycle diagram I mentioned last class.”

“Project completions can offset credits—check with Academic Affairs.”

“I’ve read the declaration and will try to send revisions tomorrow…”

Through the crowd, Hua Che observed the man who seemed so different from the solitary figure he knew.

Calm and steady, Pei Yu furrowed his brow while listening, patiently answering questions.

His voice held no emotional swings, professional and distant.

Whenever Pei Yu was present, he embodied authority in his field.

As students slowly left, only the two remained.

Hua Che lowered his head, shielding his face with his hands, feeling helpless.

The awkwardness was like sitting on pins and needles.

Interacting with Pei Yu in the classroom’s tense atmosphere was worlds apart from their moments inside the Lingguan.

“Want to have lunch together?”

Pei Yu’s voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Pink Fox.”