Saturday morning, Xiaoran woke to weak sunlight filtering through his dorm curtains and the pleasant sensation of feeling relatively human again. His body was exhausted—muscles sore, energy depleted—but his mind was clear for the first time in what felt like days.
Wei Chen was at his desk wearing headphones, working on something that involved multiple screens and looked incomprehensibly technical. He noticed Xiaoran stirring and pulled off one earphone.
"Hey. You alive?"
"Mostly." Xiaoran's voice came out rough. "Sorry about yesterday. And the night before. I know having a roommate with recurring medical crises wasn't what you signed up for."
"Dude, it's fine. Bodies are weird and unpredictable. Just glad Zhou Mei was around to help." Wei Chen returned to his work, then paused. "Also, that music student—Lin Yuze? He stopped by this morning around 8. Said he didn't want to disturb you but left something."
He gestured to Xiaoran's desk, where a insulated bag sat with a note attached in precise handwriting: *Recovery nutrition. Congee with lean pork and preserved egg, ginger tea, electrolyte solution, and fruit. Heat retention bag should keep everything warm until approximately 10 AM. Eat when ready. No response required. —LYZ*
Xiaoran felt something warm and complicated settle in his chest. Yuze had made him food. Or more likely, had obtained food specifically selected for post-heat recovery, had packaged it carefully with heating elements, had delivered it early enough that it would still be warm when Xiaoran woke but late enough not to disturb his rest.
It was care disguised as logistics. Emotion expressed through practical action. Perfectly, characteristically Yuze.
"That's actually really thoughtful," Wei Chen observed. "Most people would just text 'feel better.' This guy showed up with a whole meal plan."
"He's..." Xiaoran searched for words. "Different. But in good ways."
The congee was still warm and absolutely perfect—bland enough for a recovering stomach but flavorful enough to be appealing. The ginger tea was strong and soothing. Even the fruit selection showed thought: easy to digest, hydrating, cut into manageable pieces.
Xiaoran ate slowly, checking his phone between bites. The group chat had finally quieted after Zhou Mei had sent an update confirming he was stable and recovering. His sisters had moved from panic to relief to teasing, the family dynamic reasserting itself:
*Eldest sister: So glad you're okay. Also, this music student who keeps helping you—when do we meet him?*
*Second sister: Mom wants to invite him to dinner. She's already planning the menu.*
*Third sister: I've done research. Lin Yuze, composition major, from prestigious musical family, apparently brilliant but antisocial. Good-looking in that cold, unapproachable way. You have our approval to date him.*
*I'm not dating him. He's my friend who happens to be helpful during medical crises.*
*Eldest sister: That's called a keeper. Lock that down before someone else realizes how rare considerate Alphas are.*
Xiaoran gave up trying to correct their assumptions and opened his messages from Yuze instead. Besides the overnight check-ins and the food delivery notification, there was one more message sent twenty minutes ago:
*Hope the food is adequate. I consulted my mother about appropriate post-heat nutrition—she has experience with Omega recovery protocols. If you need anything else, let me know. Also, our Monday practice session: we can reschedule if you need additional recovery time. Your health is priority over project deadlines. —LYZ*
The image of Lin Yuze calling his mother to ask about Omega recovery nutrition was almost too endearing to process. Xiaoran could picture it: Yuze, awkward and formal, explaining the situation in clinical terms while his mother read between the lines and tried not to make it weird.
*The food is perfect. Thank you for the thoughtfulness—and for consulting your mother. Monday practice should be fine; I recover quickly. I appreciate the offer to reschedule though.*
The response was almost immediate: *Confirmed for Monday 7 PM then. Let me know if that changes. Glad the nutrition is helpful.*
There was a pause, then another message: *I want to clarify something about yesterday. My assistance wasn't obligation or inconvenience. I was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. I realize I express this poorly—my communication tends toward clinical distance even when experiencing actual emotion. But you should know that watching you suffer was... difficult. Not because it inconvenienced me, but because I care about your wellbeing specifically. As a friend. I wanted to make that clear.*
Xiaoran read the message three times, his heart doing complicated things. This was huge for Yuze—openly admitting to emotional experience, acknowledging care without deflecting into efficiency justifications, being vulnerable about his communication limitations.
*I understand. And I appreciate you clarifying. For what it's worth, you express care more clearly than you think. The music theory lectures, the food delivery, the overnight check-ins—all of those communicated concern very effectively. You don't need to use emotional language when your actions already speak clearly.*
Another pause, longer this time. Then: *That's... relieving to hear. I often worry that my formal communication style makes people feel like I don't care when I actually do. It's easier to express things through action than words.*
*Then keep expressing through actions. I'll keep translating. That's what friends do—learn each other's languages.*
*Thank you. That helps.*
The conversation ended there, but Xiaoran kept rereading it, analyzing the small admission of vulnerability, the acknowledgment of caring, the relief when Xiaoran indicated he understood.
Zhou Mei would definitely say this was more than friendship developing. And maybe she was right. Maybe Xiaoran's feelings for Lin Yuze had evolved past simple friendship into something more complicated, more intense, more terrifying to acknowledge.
But admitting attraction after trauma, after Jintao, after everything—that felt impossible. How could Xiaoran trust his own judgment about Alphas when his judgment had been so catastrophically wrong before? How could he risk vulnerability with anyone when vulnerability had led to attempted forced marking?
His phone buzzed with a call from Dr. Chen's office. Xiaoran answered with some trepidation.
"Xiaoran, this is Dr. Chen. I wanted to follow up after yesterday's crisis. How are you feeling physically?"
"Exhausted but functional. The fever broke around 6 AM. I'm staying hydrated and resting."
"Good. I want to see you Monday afternoon for a full evaluation and to discuss long-term management strategies." Dr. Chen's tone was professional but kind. "What happened yesterday is a clear indicator that your current approach isn't working. We need to develop a sustainable plan."
"I know. I'll be there." Xiaoran meant it. The denial and avoidance had to stop.
"I also want to recommend you start seeing our staff psychologist, Dr. Liu. She specializes in trauma related to sexual assault and reproductive coercion. The pharmaceutical resistance you're experiencing has a psychological component—your body is responding to suppression attempts as trauma response continuation."
"You're saying my fear is making the suppressants stop working?"
"I'm saying your body and mind are connected. Trauma affects hormone regulation, stress responses, and pharmaceutical effectiveness. Addressing the psychological aspects will improve physical outcomes." Dr. Chen paused. "I'm not saying this is your fault or that it's 'all in your head.' The trauma is real, the fear is justified, and your body is responding rationally to threat. But healing the trauma will help regulate your biology more effectively than increasing medication dosages."
"Okay. I'll meet with Dr. Liu."
"Good. I'll have her office contact you to schedule. In the meantime, rest, eat well, and no more emergency suppressants. If you feel a heat cycle starting, contact me immediately. We'll manage it properly rather than with pharmaceutical panic responses."
After the call ended, Xiaoran sat with the information. Therapy. Confronting trauma. Addressing the root causes rather than just managing symptoms. It was terrifying and necessary and long overdue.
His phone buzzed again—the group chat organizing a recovery care package delivery:
*Zhou Mei: I'm bringing soup and terrible reality TV for distraction.*
*Chen Lili: I have that fancy tea you liked plus study snacks.*
*Fang Ling: I'm bringing face masks and the gossipy energy you need to forget about medical drama.*
*Zhang Wei: I'm bringing my winning personality and zero useful items.*
Despite everything, Xiaoran smiled. His friends were aggressively caring, wouldn't let him isolate, insisted on presence even when he'd rather hide and process alone. It was overwhelming and exactly what he needed.
*You're all too much and I love you for it. Come over whenever.*
They arrived around 2 PM in a chaotic cluster of energy and concern, immediately transforming his dorm room into a recovery headquarters. Zhou Mei set up her laptop with a queue of reality TV shows, Chen Lili organized snacks with terrifying efficiency, Fang Ling insisted on doing face masks "for wellness," and Zhang Wei provided running commentary on everything.
"So," Fang Ling said once everyone was settled with face masks and tea, "are we going to talk about how Lin Yuze is basically courting you through acts of service?"
"We're not," Xiaoran said firmly.
"We absolutely are," Zhou Mei countered. "The overnight check-ins, the recovery meal delivery, the consulting-his-mother-about-Omega-nutrition situation. That's boyfriend behavior."
"That's good-friend behavior."
"It's both," Chen Lili said diplomatically. "It can be good-friend behavior that also indicates romantic interest. The two aren't mutually exclusive."
Zhang Wei, who actually knew Yuze well, spoke up. "For what it's worth, I've known Yuze for three months now. I've never seen him express concern about anyone's wellbeing before. He notices when I'm stressed or tired, but he doesn't do anything about it—he just files it as information. With you, he acts. That's significant."
"Maybe he's just practicing being a better friend generally," Xiaoran suggested. "Using me as the test case for developing social skills."
"Or maybe he likes you and doesn't know how to process that information so he's expressing it through carefully organized acts of care," Zhou Mei said. "Which, let's be honest, is exactly how Lin Yuze would handle romantic feelings—translate them into practical assistance and pretend it's all very logical and efficiency-based."
"Okay, but even if that's true—which I'm not admitting—I can't deal with romantic feelings right now." Xiaoran's voice went quieter. "I'm barely dealing with medical issues and stalker ex-boyfriends and trauma responses. Adding romance to that mess would be disastrous."
The room went silent, everyone recognizing the genuine distress underneath his deflection.
"That's completely valid," Chen Lili said gently. "No one's saying you have to pursue anything. We're just observing that feelings might be developing on both sides, and that's okay to acknowledge without acting on."
"Feelings are terrifying," Xiaoran admitted. "Especially after Jintao. How do I trust that this is real attraction and not just trauma bonding or gratitude for protection or my biology responding to a compatible Alpha? How do I know my judgment isn't completely broken?"
"You probably don't know," Zhou Mei said honestly. "At least not right away. But you can take time, work through trauma with proper therapy, and see how you feel when you're healthier. If it's real—if Yuze's feelings are genuine and yours are too—they'll still be there when you're ready to address them."
"And if they're not real? If it's just circumstantial intensity that fades once my life calms down?"
"Then you'll have gained a good friend and learned something about yourself," Fang Ling said pragmatically. "Either outcome has value."
Zhang Wei pulled up something on his phone. "Want to hear about the time Yuze tried to attend a party and lasted exactly twelve minutes before fleeing to a practice room? It's hilarious and will distract you from feelings."
"Yes. Distraction. Please."
The afternoon dissolved into stories and terrible TV and the comfortable chaos of friends aggressively caring. Xiaoran felt his anxiety gradually lessening, replaced by something lighter—not quite joy, but contentment. Presence without pressure. Connection without expectation.
This was what Yuze had never experienced, Xiaoran realized. This purposeless gathering, this inefficient socializing, this time spent together without agenda beyond enjoying each other's company. No wonder he didn't understand joy—he'd built a life that excluded all the spaces where joy typically lived.
Around 6 PM, everyone except Zhou Mei departed to various obligations. She stayed behind, helping clean up the accumulated mess of their gathering.
"I'm proud of you," she said while collecting empty tea cups. "For agreeing to see Dr. Liu. For acknowledging you need help. That takes courage."
"It takes desperation," Xiaoran corrected. "I'm out of other options."
"Courage and desperation can coexist." Zhou Mei sat on Wei Chen's bed, facing Xiaoran seriously. "Can I ask you something potentially uncomfortable?"
"You're going to anyway."
"Fair. What would it take for you to feel safe during heat? Not controlled through suppressants, but actually safe. What conditions would need to exist?"
Xiaoran thought about it, really thought. "Trust, I guess. Knowing absolutely that consent mattered more than biology. That if I said stop, it would stop regardless of pheromones or instinct or heat intensity. Feeling like I was a person with autonomy rather than an Omega in heat."
"Do you trust Yuze that way?"
"I..." Xiaoran paused. Did he? "Yes, actually. I do. He's maintained control twice now under extremely difficult circumstances. He asks for consent before touching even when it's practical to just act. He talks about respect like it's non-negotiable rather than optional. So yes, I trust him."
"Then maybe when you're ready—not now, not soon, but eventually—he could be part of a sustainable heat management solution," Zhou Mei suggested carefully. "Not as relationship obligation, but as trusted friend providing assistance. Assuming he'd be willing."
"I can't ask him to do that."
"Why not? He's already offered to help however you need. He explicitly said you could contact him during crises."
"Because that's different from asking him to help me through heat. That's asking him to be intimate when his Alpha biology will be demanding more than I can offer. That's putting him in an impossible situation."
"Or it's giving him the choice to help on terms you both agree to in advance," Zhou Mei countered. "With clear boundaries, explicit consent discussions, and the understanding that it's assistance between friends rather than sexual relationship. People do that, Xiaoran. Omegas and Alphas negotiate heat assistance arrangements all the time."
"Those arrangements usually lead to relationships or bonds."
"Sometimes. Not always. And if they do lead somewhere, is that terrible? If both people want it?"
Xiaoran didn't have an answer. The idea of Yuze helping him through heat was simultaneously appealing and terrifying—safety and vulnerability, trust and risk, all tangled together in ways he couldn't parse.
"I'll think about it," he said finally. "After therapy. After I've dealt with trauma properly. After I know what I actually want versus what fear is dictating."
"That's all anyone can ask." Zhou Mei stood up. "Okay, I should go. But text me if you need anything tonight. And eat a real dinner, not just the recovery congee. Your body needs fuel."
After she left, Xiaoran sat in the quiet of his dorm room, thinking about trust and safety and the complicated feelings developing for a brilliant, awkward composer who expressed care through logistics and had never experienced purposeless joy.
His phone buzzed with a message from Yuze: *Zhang Wei mentioned you had friends over for recovery support. I'm glad you have good people around you. Social connection aids healing—I've read studies. Anyway, I hope you're resting adequately. See you Monday unless you need anything before then. —LYZ*
Even his well-wishes were footnoted with research. It was ridiculously endearing.
*I am resting. Friends helped a lot. Thank you for checking. And Yuze? Your care package this morning was perfect. Exactly what I needed. You're better at this friendship thing than you give yourself credit for.*
*I'm learning. You're a patient teacher.*
Xiaoran smiled at his phone, imagining Yuze's face as he typed that—probably serious, maybe with the tiniest hint of pleasure at being told he was doing friendship correctly.
Complicated feelings. Developing attachment. Growing trust. All of it would need to be examined, processed, understood. But not tonight. Tonight, Xiaoran would rest and heal and let himself feel cautiously hopeful about the future.
Because for the first time since Jintao's assault, Xiaoran could imagine a future where heat didn't mean terror. Where vulnerability didn't equal violation. Where trust was possible and safety could be rebuilt.
It was a small hope, fragile and tentative. But it was there.
And sometimes hope, however small, was enough to start with.
The rest could come later, one uncertain step at a time.