Xiaoran woke Monday morning feeling like he'd been hit by a truck, then backed over repeatedly for good measure. His entire body ached with the particular exhaustion that came from fighting biology with pharmaceuticals and losing. The heat had finally broken around 4 AM, leaving him depleted, nauseated, and deeply embarrassed about the entire situation.
Zhou Mei was asleep on Wei Chen's bed, having refused to leave despite Xiaoran's protests. She'd stayed through the worst of it—bringing water, changing cold compresses, talking him through the waves when the suppressants fought against his heat in ways that left him alternately burning and shivering. She'd been perfect—present but not intrusive, helpful without judgment, exactly what Xiaoran needed even though he'd never asked for it.
His phone showed seventeen missed messages. Three from his mother (increasingly worried: *Haven't heard from you in two days, is everything okay?*), five from various classmates about assignments, two from Chen Lili checking in, and seven from an unknown number that made his stomach clench even before reading them.
Jintao. All sent yesterday during his heat, each message more intrusive than the last:
*I heard you had a health issue. Are you okay?*
*Someone said they saw you being helped across campus by that music student. What's going on?*
*Xiaoran, I deserve to know if you're seeing someone. We have history.*
*Don't ignore me. I'm worried about you.*
*This is immature. Just talk to me.*
*I'm coming to your dorm to check on you.*
*Your roommate says you're not accepting visitors. This is ridiculous.*
Xiaoran felt violated reading them, the boundary violations stacking up with each message. How had Jintao known about yesterday? Who had told him? And more concerningly, he'd actually come to the dorm, tried to get access to Xiaoran while he was vulnerable and in heat.
Zhou Mei stirred, waking up and immediately focusing on Xiaoran with sharp awareness. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"
"Like death. But alive death." Xiaoran's voice came out hoarse from dehydration and hours of suppressed crying. "Thank you for staying. You didn't have to."
"Of course I did. You're my friend, and you were going through something difficult alone." Zhou Mei sat up, stretching. "We need to talk about what happened though. The suppressant thing, the refusing help thing, all of it. That was dangerous, Xiaoran."
"I know." He did know. His body's violent rejection of excessive suppressants had made that abundantly clear. "I just... I can't go through heat normally. Not after what happened with Jintao. The thought of being that vulnerable, of my biology making me need an Alpha's help, it's too much."
"I understand trauma responses," Zhou Mei said gently. "But you can't chemically suppress your body indefinitely. Eventually it will rebel, and what happened yesterday will happen again, possibly worse. You need to talk to a doctor about sustainable heat management."
"I will. I promise." Xiaoran meant it, even though the thought of that conversation filled him with dread. "Did anything happen while I was out? Besides the obvious?"
Zhou Mei's expression darkened. "Your ex showed up around 8 PM. Claimed he was concerned and wanted to check on you. I told him to leave or I'd call security. He argued, said he had a right to see you since you were 'his Omega' historically. I may have threatened him with violence."
"Zhou Mei—"
"Non-credible violence, totally legal violence. Just words." She pulled out her phone. "But I documented the interaction. Took video of him refusing to leave, audio of him claiming relationship rights he doesn't have. It's all saved and backed up. If he escalates further, you have evidence."
Xiaoran felt emotion tighten his throat. "You're an incredible friend. You know that, right?"
"I know. I'm a treasure." Zhou Mei's expression softened. "But seriously—we need to address the Jintao situation properly. He's stalking you, Xiaoran. Yesterday proved it. He knew about your heat somehow, showed up at your dorm, tried to gain access while you were vulnerable. That's not coincidence, that's predatory behavior."
"How did he even know?" Xiaoran asked, dread pooling in his stomach. "Is he watching me? Tracking my schedule somehow?"
"Probably. Or he has friends on campus who saw you and told him." Zhou Mei was typing something on her phone. "I'm sending you information about restraining orders. And we're going to campus security again today, with the new messages and the attempted dorm access. This is documented pattern now, not isolated incident."
Xiaoran wanted to argue, to say it was overreacting, but he was too exhausted to fight. And Zhou Mei was right—Jintao's behavior was escalating in ways that scared him.
"Okay," he agreed quietly. "Campus security. Today."
"Good. Now, other topic that needs addressing." Zhou Mei's expression turned speculative. "Lin Yuze."
Xiaoran's memory of yesterday was fragmentary, but certain moments stood out with painful clarity—Yuze finding him in the hallway, Yuze helping him to his dorm despite obvious struggle with control, Yuze's hands shaking while holding back his hair as he vomited, Yuze's voice tight with restraint and concern.
"What about him?"
"He texted me yesterday. Told me you needed help, that you were refusing medical intervention and overdosing on suppressants. He waited in the hallway until I arrived to make sure someone was coming." Zhou Mei's tone was significant. "For someone who claims to have no interest in friendship or connection, that's remarkably considerate behavior."
"He was just being responsible," Xiaoran said, but even he heard the uncertainty in his own voice. "Anyone would have done the same."
"Most people would have called campus medical and disappeared. Yuze stayed. Made sure you had help. Maintained control in a situation specifically designed to break Alpha control." Zhou Mei leaned forward. "Xiaoran, do you know how difficult that must have been? Your scent, your distress, biological imperatives screaming at him to help in ways that would violate your boundaries—and he walked away. That takes incredible discipline."
"I know." Xiaoran's voice was barely above whisper. "I remember how hard he was fighting. His whole body was shaking. But he never—he didn't push, didn't try to take advantage, didn't let his instincts override my autonomy."
"That's the kind of Alpha worth knowing," Zhou Mei said firmly. "The kind who respects boundaries even when biology makes it almost impossible."
Xiaoran's phone buzzed with a new message. His heart jumped, expecting another message from Jintao, but it was from an unknown number—except the message content made the sender obvious:
*This is Lin Yuze. Zhou Mei provided your status update. I'm leaving class notes outside your dorm room for Art History and Music Theory (which you're not enrolled in, but Professor Wang covered Tang dynasty notation systems relevant to your essay). You don't need to respond or acknowledge this message. Simply providing academic materials you missed. —LYZ*
Zhou Mei read over his shoulder and smiled. "See? Emotionally constipated but thoughtful. That's actually sweet in a deeply awkward way."
"It's just academic courtesy," Xiaoran protested, but he was reading the message again, noting the care in the explanation, the formal distance maintained, the consideration underneath the cold efficiency.
"It's caring disguised as efficiency," Zhou Mei corrected. "Which is apparently his only emotional language. Accept the gesture for what it is—friendship attempting to emerge from someone who has no idea how friendship works."
She was probably right. Xiaoran saved the message, adding Yuze's number to his contacts properly this time.
*Thank you,* he typed back. *I appreciate the notes. And thank you for yesterday. For helping me get somewhere safe. I know it wasn't easy.*
He sent it before he could overthink the wording. The response came almost immediately:
*Maintaining control was difficult but manageable. Your safety was priority. Continue suppressants at recommended dosage only. See medical professional regarding sustainable heat management. —LYZ*
"He's literally incapable of accepting gratitude without deflecting into practical advice," Zhou Mei observed. "It's almost endearing in its complete social incompetence."
Xiaoran found himself smiling despite everything. "He really is terrible at this."
"The worst. But he's trying, which counts for something." Zhou Mei stood up, stretching. "Okay, here's today's plan: You shower and make yourself human-adjacent. I'm getting us breakfast from the canteen. Then we're going to campus security with all of Jintao's messages and last night's attempted access. Then you're going to student health services to talk about proper heat management. Then, and only then, are you allowed to attend classes and pretend to be a functional student."
"That's a lot of things."
"You created a lot of problems yesterday. Today we solve them." Zhou Mei was already gathering her things. "Also, you need to properly thank Lin Yuze at some point. Not via text. Actual words, actual acknowledgment of what he did for you."
"He said I don't need to acknowledge it."
"He said that because he's uncomfortable with emotional recognition. Do it anyway. Make him uncomfortable. It's good for his character development."
She left before Xiaoran could argue further, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his aching body. He dragged himself to the shower, letting hot water ease some of the physical tension while his mind churned through yesterday's events.
Lin Yuze had helped him. Had struggled visibly with biological imperatives that specifically targeted Alpha control, had maintained boundaries despite obvious difficulty, had made sure Xiaoran had proper care before leaving. All while maintaining his characteristic emotional distance and deflecting any acknowledgment of the care inherent in his actions.
Zhou Mei was right—that was friendship attempting to emerge from someone who didn't know how to admit to wanting connection. And Xiaoran, despite his own complications and trauma and the chaos of his life, found himself wanting to reach back. Wanting to be the friend that Lin Yuze pretended he didn't need.
After showering and dressing in comfortable clothes, Xiaoran found a neat folder outside his door containing printed notes from Art History—Professor Huang's lecture on Song dynasty landscape painting, complete with annotations in Yuze's precise handwriting explaining connections to musical theory. The Music Theory notes were even more detailed, clearly going beyond what was "relevant to his essay" into comprehensive coverage of the entire lecture.
This wasn't just academic courtesy. This was someone who'd taken time to ensure Xiaoran wouldn't fall behind, who'd thought about what information would be useful and provided it without being asked. This was care, dressed up in efficiency and formal language because that was the only way Lin Yuze knew how to express it.
Xiaoran carefully filed the notes with his other materials, making a mental note to properly thank Yuze at their next meeting. Make him uncomfortable with gratitude, as Zhou Mei suggested. Push against those walls gently but persistently.
Zhou Mei returned with breakfast—congee, steamed buns, tea, and a banana. "Eat everything. Your body needs recovery fuel."
They ate while Zhou Mei pulled up documentation of Jintao's messages and her video from last night. The video was damning—Jintao at the dorm entrance, arguing with the RA about visiting an Omega in heat, claiming relationship rights he absolutely didn't have, refusing to leave even when asked repeatedly.
"This is harassment," the RA in the video said firmly. "I'm noting this incident. If you don't leave immediately, I'm calling campus security."
Jintao had eventually left, but his parting words made Xiaoran's skin crawl: "Tell Xiaoran I'll be back when he's thinking more clearly. When he's not being influenced by these new friends who don't understand our history."
"He's delusional," Zhou Mei said flatly. "Acting like you're still together, like he has some claim on you. This is textbook stalker behavior."
The campus security office took the complaint seriously this time, especially given the video evidence and the documented pattern of contact despite explicit rejection. The officer who'd taken Xiaoran's initial report was back, and her expression grew increasingly concerned as she reviewed the new materials.
"This is escalating," she said. "We can issue a formal no-contact directive, which means if he approaches you again on campus, it's grounds for immediate removal and potential criminal charges. We'll also flag him in our system and increase patrols in areas you frequent."
"What if he ignores the directive?" Xiaoran asked.
"Then it becomes a legal matter, not just a campus policy matter. Restraining order territory." The officer made notes in her system. "I'm also going to recommend you vary your routes and schedules as much as possible. Don't be predictable. If you see him, don't engage—call us immediately."
They spent an hour providing statements, filing formal paperwork, and setting up the no-contact directive. By the time they finished, Xiaoran felt simultaneously safer and more anxious. This was real now, officially documented, no longer something he could minimize or ignore.
The student health services appointment was less productive but equally necessary. The doctor—a kind middle-aged Beta woman named Dr. Chen—listened to Xiaoran's explanation of suppressant use without judgment, then ran through the medical realities with gentle firmness.
"Four months of continuous suppressant use without cycle breaks is too long," she said. "Your body needs periodic natural cycles to prevent hormonal imbalances and suppressant resistance. What happened yesterday—your heat breaking through despite medication—will keep happening and get worse if you continue this pattern."
"I can't go through heat normally," Xiaoran said, his throat tight. "I need the suppressants to feel safe."
"I understand there's trauma involved," Dr. Chen said carefully. "I'm not dismissing your psychological needs. But we have to balance those needs with your physical health. How about we develop a sustainable plan? Reduced suppressant dosage to allow minor cycles every two months, with proper medical support and safety protocols in place. You maintain more control than unmedicated heat, but your body gets necessary hormone regulation."
It was a compromise Xiaoran could live with, barely. They spent another thirty minutes developing a specific plan, scheduling follow-up appointments, discussing emergency protocols. By the time Xiaoran left the health center, he had prescriptions, informational pamphlets, and a nagging sense that he was addressing symptoms rather than root causes.
But root causes required therapy and time and emotional work he wasn't ready for yet. Sustainable management was the best he could do for now.
Zhou Mei had waited outside, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when Xiaoran emerged. "How'd it go?"
"I have a new medical plan that's less likely to make my body revolt violently against me," Xiaoran summarized. "Progress, I guess."
"I'll take it." Zhou Mei linked her arm through his as they walked. "Now you're officially allowed to attend classes. You've only missed Art History this morning. You still have Movement at 3 and that theater workshop at 5."
"I should probably go to Art History to get the assignment details, even though I have Yuze's notes."
"Or you could text him and ask what the assignment was," Zhou Mei suggested. "Normal friend behavior. Try it."
Xiaoran pulled out his phone and typed: *What was today's Art History assignment? Your notes are excellent but didn't include homework details.*
The response came within seconds: *Reading: Chapters 7-8 of the Song Dynasty textbook. Short response paper due Friday analyzing one artwork's relationship to musical principles we've discussed. 500 words maximum. I can send you the prompt specifics if needed.*
*That would be helpful, thank you.*
*Sent. Also, there's a library workshop Wednesday on archival research methods. Professor Huang recommended it for our project. 4-5 PM, main library conference room. Optional but potentially useful.*
*I'll add it to my calendar.*
There was a pause, then: *Are you recovered from yesterday's medical issue?*
Xiaoran stared at the message, noting the careful phrasing—"medical issue" instead of "heat," maintaining distance while still asking after his welfare.
*Mostly recovered. Still tired but functional. Thank you again for your help. I know it was difficult.*
Another pause, longer this time. Then: *Difficulty was acceptable. Your safety was important.*
Zhou Mei read over his shoulder again. "He's really committed to this emotional unavailability thing, isn't he?"
"It's probably the nicest he knows how to be," Xiaoran said, but he was smiling. There was something almost sweet about Yuze's awkward attempts at expressing care while maintaining careful distance.
He spent the rest of Monday attending classes, catching up on work, and trying to feel normal despite the physical exhaustion and emotional turbulence of the past 24 hours. Movement class was challenging with his depleted energy, but Teacher Lin had apparently been notified about his "medical absence" and didn't push him beyond reasonable limits.
By evening, Xiaoran was ready to collapse. He made it back to his dorm, grateful to find Wei Chen out at his evening class, and immediately burrowed into bed despite it being only 7 PM.
His phone buzzed with messages from his family group chat—apparently his mother's worry had mobilized his sisters into a coordinated information-gathering campaign. Xiaoran sent a mass response: *I'm fine. Had a minor medical thing yesterday but I'm recovered. Please stop interrogating my friends about my health status.*
His eldest sister: *We will never stop. It's our sisterly duty to be invasive.*
His second sister: *Also we heard from Auntie Zhang that her son saw you being helped across campus by a very handsome Alpha. DETAILS NEEDED.*
His third sister: *Is he your boyfriend? Are you dating? Why haven't we been informed?*
*He's not my boyfriend. He's my project partner who helped me when I felt sick. That's all.*
*That's what they all say before the wedding invitations.*
*There will be no wedding. There isn't even friendship. It's purely academic collaboration.*
*Defensive denial is basically confirmation.*
Xiaoran gave up trying to convince them otherwise and turned his phone to silent. His family's nosiness was overwhelming but came from genuine love and concern. They just expressed it through intensive surveillance and wild speculation about his romantic life.
He was drifting toward sleep when his door opened quietly. Wei Chen poked his head in. "Oh good, you're alive. Zhou Mei texted me yesterday that you were sick. You need anything?"
"Just sleep. Thanks for checking though."
Wei Chen nodded and retreated to his side of the room, putting on headphones and settling at his desk to work. Xiaoran was grateful for his roommate's low-key presence—there when needed, absent when not, never intrusive or demanding.
Sleep came quickly, heavy and dreamless, his exhausted body demanding rest. When Xiaoran woke Tuesday morning, he felt closer to human—still tired, still processing, but functional enough for the day's demands.
Art History class that afternoon felt surreal. Xiaoran arrived early, taking his usual seat in the middle section. The room gradually filled with other students, casual conversations about assignments and weekend activities creating a comfortable ambient noise.
Then Lin Yuze entered, precisely five minutes before class start time as always, and something in the air shifted. His eyes found Xiaoran immediately, and for just a second, Xiaoran saw genuine relief flicker across his face before the usual neutral mask descended.
Yuze took his customary seat three rows back, but throughout Professor Huang's lecture, Xiaoran was hyperaware of his presence. Several times he glanced back and found Yuze watching him, expression unreadable, attention definitely not on the professor's discussion of architectural aesthetics.
When class ended, Xiaoran packed his materials slowly, trying to decide if he should approach Yuze or let him escape to whatever practice room he haunted. But before he could make the decision, Yuze was there, standing at the end of his row with obvious discomfort at having voluntarily initiated social interaction.
"A moment of your time?" Yuze said formally. "If you're not too busy."
"I have time." Xiaoran followed Yuze out of the classroom and down the hall to a quiet corner near the windows overlooking the central quad. Students passed by but no one paid them attention—just two classmates having a conversation, nothing remarkable.
"I wanted to confirm you're actually recovered," Yuze said without preamble. "Your texts indicated recovery, but confirmation of physical presence is more reliable than electronic communication."
"I'm recovered," Xiaoran assured him. "Tired, but functional. Ready to continue with normal academic responsibilities."
"Good." Yuze paused, clearly struggling with something. "I also wanted to... I should have asked this before helping you Sunday. I didn't obtain explicit consent for physical contact or assistance. I made assumptions about what you needed based on the situation. That was potentially inappropriate given your obvious distress about vulnerability during heat."
Xiaoran blinked, processing. Yuze was apologizing—awkwardly, formally, but genuinely—for helping him without asking first. "You didn't do anything wrong. You got me somewhere safe and called for proper help. That's exactly what I needed."
"But I touched you without permission. Helped you walk despite your heat state. That physical contact could have been unwelcome even if practically necessary."
"It wasn't unwelcome." Xiaoran kept his voice gentle, recognizing this conversation was difficult for Yuze. "You were respectful, careful, and you left as soon as possible. You maintained control in a situation specifically designed to break Alpha control. I'm grateful, Yuze. Genuinely."
Yuze's shoulders relaxed fractionally, though his expression remained guarded. "Your gratitude is noted but unnecessary. Basic human decency isn't praiseworthy, it's baseline expectation."
"And yet many people fail to meet that baseline," Xiaoran said quietly. "Especially Alphas around Omegas in heat. Especially with my specific scent. You did more than basic decency—you protected my autonomy even when biology was demanding otherwise."
"Biology doesn't eliminate choice," Yuze said firmly. "Anyone claiming otherwise is justifying assault."
The words hung in the air, weighted with meaning. Xiaoran wondered if Yuze somehow knew about Jintao, about what had happened, about why Xiaoran was so afraid of heat vulnerability. But Yuze's expression revealed nothing, his statement more philosophical principle than personal insight.
"Thank you," Xiaoran said again. "For everything. The help, the notes, the consideration. You're a better friend than you want to admit to being."
"I'm not—" Yuze started to protest, then stopped. "We're project partners. Collaboration requires mutual support."
"Right. Project partners." Xiaoran smiled, letting Yuze maintain his comfortable fiction. "Speaking of which, are we still meeting Tuesday next week to finalize the presentation?"
"Yes. Library study room 4C, 7 PM. I'll send calendar confirmation via text."
"Perfect. I'll have my movement piece ready to show you by then."
They stood in slightly awkward silence for a moment, neither quite ready to end the conversation but unsure how to continue it. Finally, Yuze cleared his throat.
"I should go. Practice schedule."
"Of course. I'll see you next week."
Yuze nodded and turned to leave, then paused. "Xiaoran. If you have medical difficulties again, or need assistance, call me. I'll maintain appropriate boundaries, but you shouldn't suffer alone due to fear of imposing on others."
He left before Xiaoran could respond, walking away with his characteristic purposeful stride. Xiaoran stood by the window, watching Yuze's retreat, feeling something complicated and warm settling in his chest.
Lin Yuze was trying to be a friend while adamantly denying the possibility of friendship. It was endearing and frustrating simultaneously.
But Zhou Mei was right—some people were worth the effort of pushing through their defenses. And Lin Yuze, with his careful consideration disguised as efficiency and his care expressed through formal distance, was definitely worth the effort.
Xiaoran headed to his next class with a smile on his face and lecture notes written in precise handwriting tucked carefully into his bag. Progress was happening, slowly and awkwardly, but happening nonetheless.
Some walls took time to breach. Some friendships required patience and persistence.
Xiaoran had both. And he was discovering that he genuinely wanted to know the person behind Lin Yuze's carefully maintained fortress.
The semester was still young. There was time yet to find out who they could become to each other, beyond project partners, beyond formal collaboration.
Time would tell. And Xiaoran found himself looking forward to finding out.