When an Alpha is Marked by One of His Own Kind

Chapter 4

"The only good ex is an ex who plays dead."

This voice was exactly the same as the voice Lu Zhe had heard last night. If he had to pick out some differences, he would say it lacked the tinny interference from the gaming mic and had more of a rasp. From the cigarettes, perhaps.

Paired with that faint, almost undetectable scent of mint, it was an icily erotic voice.

Those words were clearly harsh at best and cruel at worst, but they brought a smile to Lu Zhe's lips. He practically glowed, as though someone had whispered sweet nothings in his ear. His pupils dilated just slightly. A flash of light passed through his eyes. In that moment, his expression became even warmer and more tender.

He leaned a little closer to Shen Qiao.

The deep, subtle scent of cedarwood suddenly flared and grew more intense. It flooded the air in an almost suffocating manner, and Shen Qiao didn't rein in his own pheromones either. Inevitably, their scents collided and intertwined.

This distance-

Too close.

Shen Qiao abruptly stopped breathing. He felt a fleeting brush of warmth against the corners of his lips. It was Lu Zhe's breath, ghosting over his skin.

Even though Lu Zhe was acting like he could have boldly kissed Shen Qiao right there, out in the open, Shen Qiao didn't back away. His eyes only filled with a deeper shade of scorn. Just as he parted his lips, about to say something else, Lu Zhe interrupted.

With his face still unacceptably close to Shen Qiao's, Lu Zhe smiled and asked, "Is that so?"

And after a beat, he unhurriedly added, "My coffin lid must not have been nailed down tight enough."

As he spoke, he suddenly reached out and filched the cigarette from between Shen Qiao's fingertips. He tossed the cigarette into a nearby trash can, then turned back to Shen Qiao and crossed his arms. He was still smiling warmly, but he clearly looked like he needed a beating at least ten times more than Shen Qiao.

Shen Qiao pursed his lips, looking every bit like he was ready to throw a punch any second now.

Lu Zhe waited.

But after a moment, the other party turned to leave, only spitting out a curt farewell: "You're sick."

As he watched Shen Qiao depart, Lu Zhe's expression underwent a subtle change. A lively, reddish light, reminiscent of autumn, flickered at the corners of his eyes, which seemed to brim over with intent. His lips quirked into a faint smile, and his mood-as a whole-seemed suddenly brighter.

......

"Please take out your prescription."

There was a long promenade on the ground floor of the hospital. The pharmacy at the western end wasn't as crowded as the pharmacies at public hospitals. There was also no impersonal machine that would call out a patient's name when their turn was up.

Instead, Shen Qiao was met by a kind, warm pharmacist who sat in a service window. She greeted him politely, demonstrating customer service skills that left nothing to be desired.

Shen Qiao slid over his prescription. Before long, a few boxes of medicine and a plastic bag were pushed out from the other side of the window. The pharmacist's pleasant voice sounded out again:

"Please make sure everything is right."

Shen Qiao only answered with a curt and shallow nod. He rubbed his fingers over the mouth of the plastic bag to work it open, then tossed the medicine inside. Just as he turned to stuff the bag into his backpack, his wrist was caught.