Chapter 8: Is he a good person?

Do Alphas in Danshi also help others?

After leaving the hotel that day, Xu Lin kept thinking about that question.

Ever since he arrived in the main city, every single local he had encountered—whether at school or at work—was selfish, partial, and perpetually condescending. Ji Jixuan had been born and raised in Danshi, an S-rank Alpha who had grown up surrounded by admirers. By all logic, shouldn’t someone like him be even more arrogant? Yet he had stepped in to help a server.

Ji Jixuan seemed different from the people here.

Xu Lin found himself growing curious about him.

One day, while eating in the cafeteria with Yi Wei, he couldn’t hold back anymore and asked:

“What does it mean when a wristband turns red?”

Yi Wei slurped his noodles. “Huh? I don’t really know much about that. Let me ask around.”

This was outside Yi Wei’s area of expertise—even though he was usually a know-it-all about everything. He was the type to act on impulse, and before Xu Lin could stop him, he abandoned his noodles, turned around, and struck up a conversation with a classmate sitting a few tables away. That classmate was an Alpha. After getting his answer, Yi Wei hurried back excitedly, took a sip of noodle soup, and said, “Apparently there are two possibilities.”

“One is that the wristband is malfunctioning. The other is that the wearer’s pheromones are out of control, on the verge of a full-blown outbreak. The wristband can’t suppress the pheromones anymore, so the chip overloads and flashes red as a warning. If that happens, they have to go to the hospital immediately. Otherwise, it’s very dangerous.”

Xu Lin was taken aback.

“But the second situation is very rare.”

“Why?”

Yi Wei explained, “Wristbands on the market nowadays are very advanced. Before purchase, each one is custom-made according to the Alpha’s physical characteristics. Even the cheapest models can fully control the wearer’s pheromones. If a wristband truly can’t suppress the pheromones, it means that person’s pheromone quality is extremely high—probably only high-ranking Alphas would have that issue.”

“But high-ranking Alphas use the best inhibiting wristbands, not cheap knockoffs. They wouldn’t be so easy to overload. Unless—”

Yi Wei chewed a couple of mouthfuls of noodles and thought of another possibility. He leaned in mysteriously and said, “Unless this Alpha has some kind of hidden ailment!”

Xu Lin’s hand, holding his chopsticks, paused.

Yi Wei asked, “Why are you asking about this?”

Xu Lin made up a casual excuse: “Oh… I was watching a TV drama that had this plot point. I was just curious.”

Yi Wei dismissed it. “Pfft, TV dramas always exaggerate things. Real life isn’t that dramatic. Don’t watch stuff like that—it’ll rot your brain.”

Xu Lin poked at the rice grains in his bowl.

He thought about the briefcase he had delivered to Ji Jixuan. He wondered what had been inside.

If the situation really was as Yi Wei described, then Ji Jixuan’s physical condition must have been quite serious at that time. No wonder his complexion had been so pale and he’d been wearing that muzzle. The wristband he used was probably the best available, not just any model. If even that could overload, how serious was his condition?

…He wondered if Ji Jixuan had ended up going to the hospital.

Realizing what he was thinking, Xu Lin was stunned for a moment, then let out a small laugh.

What did it matter to him whether Ji Jixuan went to the hospital or not? They weren’t even acquainted.

---

And so, his first year passed by in a blur of busyness and hard work. As the end of the year approached, everyone in the dormitory began preparing to go home for the New Year. School A didn’t have winter or summer breaks; out-of-district students could only return home once a year, during the New Year holiday.

Out-of-district residents needed to apply for a travel pass to enter and leave the main city. When Xu Lin and the others had first arrived, their School A admission notices had a travel pass printed on them. But that pass was one-way—entry only, single use.

So for out-of-district students who wanted to go home, they had to apply for a round-trip travel pass from the academic affairs office in advance. The processing took a month. By then, most of the dormitory residents had already received their passes and bought their plane tickets. Yi Wei was counting down the days to his departure.

But Xu Lin was different. He went to class and to work as usual, showing no signs of excitement for the upcoming holiday.

Only when Yi Wei asked did he learn that Xu Lin hadn’t bought a ticket at all.

He wasn’t planning to go home for the New Year.

Yi Wei was incredulous. “Why not? It’s a rare opportunity—don’t you want to go home?”

Of course he wanted to go. Xu Lin dreamed of it. He wanted to see Pu Sha, to see his friends. People like Yi Wei could contact their families anytime with their phones, but Xu Lin hadn’t been able to reach Pu Sha or the others even once in the entire year he’d been in Danshi.

But wanting to go and being able to go were two different things.

The New Year holiday was only a month long. If Xu Lin took a boat home, the entire month would be wasted just traveling back and forth. It simply wasn’t worth it.

He had also looked at plane tickets. Unfortunately, Danshi and District Thirteen were too far apart. The airfare was three times the price of a boat ticket. A round trip would empty the envelope Pu Sha had given him. The thought of spending that much money made his heart ache too much to bear.

Pu Sha worked hard to earn money. Xu Lin didn’t want to touch the living allowance unless absolutely necessary. With his part-time job, he could barely support himself, but he couldn’t afford such expensive travel costs.

After much deliberation, he decided to stay in Danshi. At least the school dormitories were open during the holidays—that was thoughtful enough.

Pu Sha would understand.

Since Xu Lin couldn’t go back, he at least wanted to let Pu Sha know he was okay. So he wrote a letter and asked Yi Wei, who was going home, to mail it to District Thirteen for him.

Xu Lin had actually thought about writing letters much earlier. Since his phone was useless, he wanted to use this old-fashioned method to stay in touch with Pu Sha. But he had searched all over Danshi and couldn’t find a single post office. Danshi was technologically advanced; this archaic form of communication had long since been swept away by the tide of progress. Even sending a package required a Danshi resident ID card—so strict and restrictive that out-of-towners were given no breathing room at all.

When Yi Wei took the letter, he was quite surprised. But he knew about Xu Lin’s situation, so he didn’t say anything. He just put the letter away and promised to get it done.

Soon, one by one, all the dormitory residents went home.

The dormitory building became empty.

Xu Lin was the only one left.

During the holiday, Xu Lin had no classes, so he spent all his time working.

The restaurant owner’s business got even busier at the end of the year. Since he also wasn’t going home, Xu Lin at least had some company. From morning till night, he was busy at the restaurant, running around so much his feet practically smoked. He had no time to dwell on things.

On New Year’s Day, the owner pulled Xu Lin and several other employees who weren’t going home together for a New Year’s Eve dinner. Before they all dispersed, he gave each of them a red envelope.

Xu Lin pocketed the red envelope and wandered the streets, wrapped in his scarf.

It was already eleven at night.

The night sky was dark and heavy, with no stars in sight. In the distance, high-rise buildings blazed with lights. The shops along the street glowed with colorful neon signs. It was as lively as usual, but it didn’t feel like the New Year.

Danshi’s New Year had no fireworks. Back in Yanyu Township, they would set off fireworks and firecrackers in Pu Sha’s courtyard. Little Fatty would set up the barbecue grill and roast piles of seafood and meat skewers, deftly sprinkling cumin and chili powder while sneaking bites as he cooked. Shitou and the others would bring beer and side dishes. The rest would hold window decorations and couplets, dressing up Pu Sha’s house in festive new attire.

And Pu Sha—Pu Sha would watch them with a warm smile, and when they were done, he would bring out fresh fruit he had just bought. At the stroke of midnight, he would wish them all a Happy New Year.

Xu Lin walked to a river embankment. Thinking of all this, he suddenly felt very dejected.

He had no energy left. He didn’t want to go back to school either, so he simply sat down on the grass and pulled out the cigarettes he had bought two days ago. He had been smoking heavily lately, and this was his last one.

He put it between his lips and lit it.

Smoke curled in the air, blurring everything around him.

It was very cold. Xu Lin smoked, slowly tearing apart the empty cigarette pack. Head bowed, he folded the pack in his hands. Within a few minutes, it had become a lifelike paper dragonfly.

This was something a cleaning lady at the orphanage had taught him.

All the children at the orphanage were quiet. Xu Lin had been the same back then. One day, after he’d grown bored of flipping through picture books, he happened to see the cleaning lady folding a paper dragonfly out of colorful paper, and he pestered her to teach him.

Ever since, whenever he was unhappy, he would fold paper dragonflies. It was a good way to pass the time, quickly diverting his attention and helping him forget his sorrows.

After meeting Pu Sha, he had stopped folding them.

He thought he would never have to fold another one. Who would have guessed he’d be back to his old habit today?

After meeting Pu Sha, this was the first New Year he wasn’t spending with him.

It felt terribly lonely.

At this moment, Pu Sha was probably in the courtyard with Little Fatty and the others, preparing to welcome the New Year together.

They must be having a great time.

As for him here…

Xu Lin sighed, rubbed his face, and quickly perked up.

“It’s okay, it’s okay! Just three more years! Three more years and I can go home!”

He cheered himself on like a madman. A cold wind blew, and the paper dragonfly in his hand was swept away, fluttering unsteadily down the slope below.

He cried out and tried to catch it, but missed. Looking down, he saw that the paper dragonfly had landed near someone’s hand.

Xu Lin was sitting on top of the embankment. Below was a grassy slope, and at the bottom of the slope was a viewing platform. Beyond the platform’s railing flowed a clear river, with willows planted along both banks. In spring, the scenery was beautiful, and people would come here to take photos, lie on the grass, and sunbathe.

But it was winter now.

The riverside was bare and dry. Yet someone was sitting silently on the slope.

At this hour? To enjoy the view? No—to enjoy the cold wind, more like.

It was too dark, and Xu Lin had been absorbed in his own thoughts. He hadn’t noticed there was anyone else here besides him.

When he recognized who the person sitting there was, his surprise peaked.

He and Ji Jixuan seemed to be running into each other a lot.

Today, Ji Jixuan wasn’t wearing a muzzle or a wristband.

His complexion looked much better than the last time Xu Lin saw him.

He seemed to be fine now.

The paper dragonfly that had flown over disrupted Ji Jixuan’s solitude.

The tip of its wing touched Ji Jixuan’s pinky finger.

Ji Jixuan looked down at the paper dragonfly first, then turned his head to look at Xu Lin. Only then did Xu Lin realize that his rambling soliloquy had been clearly overheard.

Feeling awkward, Xu Lin didn’t get up. He stayed where he was, staring blankly at Ji Jixuan.

The two looked at each other from a distance. Neither spoke.

Xu Lin thought Ji Jixuan would either throw the paper dragonfly away or ignore it. But instead, Ji Jixuan stood up, picked up the paper dragonfly by his hand, and walked towards Xu Lin.

Xu Lin froze. The cigarette in his hand had burned halfway down, the growing ash about to burn his fingers.

The dragonfly folded from the cigarette pack wasn’t very delicate. Ji Jixuan stopped in front of him, holding the paper dragonfly between his fingers, and offered it to Xu Lin.

Xu Lin tilted his head up, blinking. Ji Jixuan looked down at him with a blank expression, his aloof eyes exceptionally clear in the dim night.

Xu Lin slowly raised his hand and took the paper dragonfly, careful not to touch Ji Jixuan’s fingers.

Ji Jixuan didn’t seem to recognize him.

That brief, fleeting encounter outside the hotel hadn’t been enough to leave a lasting impression.

Ji Jixuan didn’t say anything. After returning the item, he left.

Xu Lin remained seated, watching his distant figure grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared around the corner. Only then did he look away.

Ji Jixuan had clearly arrived here earlier than him. Who knew how long he’d been sitting there?

Why wasn’t he spending the New Year at home?

What was he doing here alone?

It couldn’t be that he was like Xu Lin, with nowhere to go.

Xu Lin fiddled with the wings of the paper dragonfly. A trace of warmth from Ji Jixuan’s fingers still lingered on it. Suddenly, he brought it up to his nose and sniffed.

In addition to the tobacco smell from the cigarette pack itself, he caught a faint, pleasant scent. It smelled like flowers.

That was Ji Jixuan’s scent.

Ji Jixuan was an Alpha.

And Betas like Xu Lin were not very sensitive to pheromones. Since he could smell it, this unknown fragrance was probably just Ji Jixuan’s natural scent. Was it from his clothes? Or had he applied something? Was it cologne?

His mind wandered through many possibilities. The only thing he could confirm was that it wasn’t his pheromones.

Pheromones.

Pheromones…

The cigarette ash burned his finger. Xu Lin hissed and stubbed out the cigarette harshly on a stone.

He stared at the tiny black dot on the stone, lost in thought.

“…”

He wondered what Ji Jixuan’s pheromones smelled like.

That paper dragonfly, folded from a cigarette pack, should have been thrown away. But Xu Lin’s hand hovered over the trash can, unable to drop it.

He reasoned that this little thing wouldn’t take up much space.

So the paper dragonfly ended up on Xu Lin’s dormitory desk.

It lived there day after day under Xu Lin’s gaze.

Every time he saw it, he couldn’t help but think of Ji Jixuan.

He thought of their accidental encounter on the river embankment.

He thought of that time at the hotel when Ji Jixuan, clearly unwell, had still intervened to help a low-level employee.

If it had been anyone else in Danshi, the bullied Omega employee at the hotel would have been ignored. And this paper dragonfly, folded from a cigarette pack, would never have been picked up and returned—its only fate would have been to be tossed in the trash.

Back at the orphanage, after he’d learned to fold paper dragonflies, he could make dozens in a day. So many that they became a nuisance, and the teachers ordered him to throw them away.

He didn’t want to throw away the treasures he had worked so hard to make. So he climbed up to the rooftop balcony and let them go, one by one. Paper dragonflies didn’t have real wings, of course—they couldn’t fly. They would only tumble clumsily from the third floor to the first.

They landed all over the ground, and Xu Lin was scolded again.

Every paper dragonfly he had ever released was either swept into the trash by the cleaning lady or stepped on and flattened into a dirty paper pancake.

No one ever cared about an insignificant paper dragonfly on the ground.

No one ever picked one up for him.

But Ji Jixuan—Ji Jixuan had picked it up.

So it turned out that not everyone in the clouds looked down with their noses in the air. There were also immortals who would look down below. Rescuing a drowning ant, picking up a fallen petal from a leafcutter bee—doing the things that other immortals deemed beneath them.

Very small, very insignificant.

But the ant was happy. And the leafcutter bee was happy too.

If Pu Sha was the special one out of place in District Thirteen, then Ji Jixuan—was he the exception in Danshi?

Maybe he was actually a good person.