GBROTAH CH2

Chapter 2: Pheromone Disorder

The dorm was quiet. Xie Yuanxing lowered his head slightly, looking at the wrist that Shen Bianye was still holding. He didn’t like physical contact, nor was he good at confrontation.

Even though he was trying to get the other to relax, his eyes remained downcast, unable to meet Shen Bianye’s gaze.

Eye contact with anyone made Xie Yuanxing uncomfortable.

The skin on his wrist, where Shen Bianye held him, was burning—hot to the touch.

Shen Bianye’s hands were large, easily locking him in place. Heat radiated endlessly from his palm, scorching enough that Xie Yuanxing instinctively tried to pull away.

But he couldn’t.

Agitation settled in his chest like a cascade of pebbles piling up, and his voice rose slightly. He looked up without thinking.

“Okay, I won’t use that soap anymore. Can you just let—”

Xie Yuanxing cut off mid-sentence the moment he met Shen Bianye’s eyes.

Shen Bianye’s gaze was dark and heavy, locked onto him. He was staring at Xie Yuanxing’s face, his eyes unreadable and filled with some emotion Xie Yuanxing couldn’t quite name.

The stare made him feel deeply uncomfortable—so much so that he almost lifted a hand to touch his own face.

He clenched his fist and dug his fingernails into his palm to suppress the odd impulse.

“What… what’s wrong with you?”

Whenever he felt ill at ease, his awareness of his surroundings heightened. Only now did he belatedly realize how abnormally high Shen Bianye’s body temperature was.

Just holding hands with him, Xie Yuanxing could feel the heat radiating off him—enough that he didn’t dare imagine how high his fever must be.

Maybe that explained the look in Shen Bianye’s eyes. Was he feverish and uncomfortable?

Even if he didn’t feel anything toward this roommate, Xie Yuanxing still asked out of basic concern:

“Are you sick? Do you have a fever? The dorm gates aren’t locked yet—maybe go to the medical office and get checked.”

When Shen Bianye didn’t answer, Xie Yuanxing hesitated, then reached out to touch his forehead.

But after pausing for a second, he pulled his hand back.

His motion was small—he had only slightly lifted his arm. Yet Shen Bianye’s gaze followed the movement.

And then—he made contact.

Xie Yuanxing’s eyes widened in shock as Shen Bianye gently took his hand and pressed it to his forehead.

His burning forehead met Xie Yuanxing’s palm, while Shen Bianye’s scalding hand pressed against the back of his hand—completely sandwiching it, making it impossible to pull away.

Seeing Xie Yuanxing still trying to resist, Shen Bianye’s inner frustration seemed to ignite along with his fever. Mixed with a strange hint of grievance, some irrational impulse took over as he pressed Xie Yuanxing’s hand firmly against his forehead.

“Feel it.”

He didn’t let go, and instead leaned in, forcing Xie Yuanxing to meet his gaze.

Shen Bianye’s voice was husky: “See if I’m burning up.”

As he said this, he finally released Xie Yuanxing’s wrist and instead reached up with the other hand to brush aside the damp bangs on his forehead.

With the bangs lifted, that pale face was fully exposed.

Xie Yuanxing felt like he’d been stripped bare and dragged into the light. He had nowhere to hide from Shen Bianye’s stare. A brief wave of panic washed over him.

“You have a mole here,” Shen Bianye said in a strange tone. As he spoke, he reached out to touch it. “Tiny…”

His voice grew quieter and quieter, until it was barely a whisper. His eyes fixated on the teardrop mole, growing more and more absorbed—

Almost… entranced.

“Shen Bianye!”

Xie Yuanxing suddenly stepped back, putting distance between them.

“What are you doing?!”

Shen Bianye blinked, slightly aggrieved. “What’s wrong?”

“Why’d you back away?”

Xie Yuanxing stared at him in disbelief. Why was this guy asking him that?

If he hadn’t backed up just now, Shen Bianye would’ve kissed him on the face!

Shouldn’t he be the one asking what was going on?

His chest rose and fell sharply for a moment, but he quickly forced himself to calm down.

Xie Yuanxing didn’t want to say anything harsh. He also didn’t want to entertain the mood swings of some spoiled rich kid. He turned away and muttered, “Forget it,” before heading back to his bed.

Shen Bianye didn’t try to stop him this time. Who knew what was going through his mind?

Xie Yuanxing had just showered before Shen Bianye grabbed him—his hair was still damp.

It was summer, so the cool air didn’t bother him much. But since he wanted to lie down, he pulled out a hair dryer.

The low hum of the hair dryer replaced the silence in the dorm.

He dried his hair in just a few strokes, then unplugged it. Without even bothering to put it away, he climbed into bed.

He lay on his side, turning his back to both the room and Shen Bianye. He pulled the blanket over himself, as if shrinking into it would reduce his presence as much as possible.

His stomach ached from hunger. Xie Yuanxing pressed his palm to it, then pulled out his phone.

He didn’t open a food delivery app. Instead, he scrolled through a part-time job group he had just joined.

Most of the listings were for tutoring or running errands. The only somewhat stable, long-term work was delivering food around campus.

Xie Yuanxing wanted to do it—but he couldn’t spare the time.

He had memorized his freshman class schedule, reviewing it again and again. It was packed from morning till night. Most campus food delivery gigs required you to be free for the last class before lunch.

The first semester of freshman year wasn’t a good time to take on a part-time job, but Xie Yuanxing had no other options.

All the money he had in the world didn’t add up to more than 200 yuan. His meal card still had 300 on it—enough to get through the month—but where next month’s living expenses would come from, he had no idea.

He couldn’t live off air forever.

Xie Yuanxing sighed silently and, without much hope, continued scrolling through the group messages. Suddenly, a new post popped up, replacing the empty space where the messages had ended:

“Hiring waiter. Hours: 10 PM to 3 AM. Daily pay: 150 yuan. Part-time allowed. DM if interested.”

From 10 at night to 3 in the morning. Xie Yuanxing did a quick mental calculation, hesitated, then clicked on the user’s profile and sent a friend request.

Even if this job meant only four hours of sleep per day, it would just be a temporary way to earn a little money—his body should be able to handle it.

He flipped back and forth between WeChat and various job-hunting apps, occasionally switching screens to check for any replies.

None from the part-time job poster.

The only new message was from the class group chat—his academic advisor reminding everyone about the class meeting tomorrow.

Xie Yuanxing didn’t reply like the others did. He was used to being invisible and didn’t like talking in the class group. He simply made a mental note of the time and put his phone aside.

Lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, the glaring ceiling light stung his eyes. But instead of asking Shen Bianye to turn it off, he frowned and buried his face deeper into the blanket.

Their university had a unified lights-out policy: the dorm manager on the first floor would cut the lights at exactly 11 PM.

But they didn’t cut the power, so students were fine with it.

To Xie Yuanxing, the only good thing about this rule was that he didn’t need to negotiate with his night-owl roommate about when to turn off the lights.

His thoughts were scattered and chaotic—

Worrying about next month’s living expenses. About the part-time job. About asking the advisor tomorrow whether his dorm change request might be approved.

And about that chubby little cream puff he’d seen earlier in the bakery’s display case.

Gradually, all the other messy thoughts faded, leaving only the image of that cream puff.

It was a pale yellow taro-flavored puff, topped with a lemon-colored swirl of cream. Unlike the others, it was larger and rounder—oddly adorable.

Xie Yuanxing began imagining what it tasted like.

It was probably very sweet, with flakes crumbling off as you took a bite.

But… it had been sitting there all day, untouched. So maybe it wasn’t that tasty after all.

He pressed a hand to his flat stomach and mentally slapped a “not delicious” label onto the puff, forcing it out of his mind.

His phone buzzed a few times. Xie Yuanxing froze, then hurriedly fumbled for it under the pillow, quickly typing in the passcode.

But it wasn’t a reply from the part-time job.

It was from Xie Zhuowu:

Xie Zhuowu: “Hey, transfer me 200 yuan. I want to buy a game cartridge.”
Xie Zhuowu: “Don’t pretend you didn’t see this. You bought me the console but not the games—how am I supposed to play?”
Xie Zhuowu: “Hurry up or I’ll tell Mom.”

Xie Yuanxing’s expression turned cold, laced with a trace of quiet disgust. He muted his phone and tossed it aside.

He rolled over and lay flat on his back, staring blankly at the bright white ceiling light above. The harsh light made his eyes ache.

Then, in an instant, it went dark.

11 PM. Lights-out time.

Ah. Time to sleep.

Xie Yuanxing thought woodenly and closed his dry eyes.

With his vision cut off in the darkness, his other senses gradually sharpened—and the smell that had been lingering all along but which he’d tried to ignore, grew stronger in his nose.

The scent of ashes left behind by devouring flames, tinged with the smoky scent of charred wood, still crackling faintly with embers.

The lingering burn of fire gave off a dangerous aura—like the room would burst into flames the moment it encountered something flammable.

The agitation Xie Yuanxing had been pushing down all day was now piling up inside him, amplified by those few detestable messages earlier.

The dangerous, aggressive scent of pheromones was feeding his unease. And unease, when paired with agitation, could easily tip someone over the edge.

With a sudden movement, he sat up and searched the dark dorm for Shen Bianye.

When he opened his mouth to speak, his tone softened instinctively, his presence seeming to shrink a little:

“Shen Bianye, could you rein in your pheromones a bit?”

No response.

Xie Yuanxing peeked out, confused—only to see that Shen Bianye was still sitting at his desk, unmoving, seemingly frozen in the same position as before.

A tall, silent figure sitting in the middle of a dark dorm… this scene would fit right into any campus horror story.

Xie Yuanxing swallowed, voice small. “Shen Bianye?”

His heartbeat picked up. He hesitated, then threw off his blanket and got out of bed, walking over to him.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“What about my pheromones?” Shen Bianye spoke at last, answering Xie Yuanxing’s previous question with another question.

Xie Yuanxing replied, “They’re too strong. It’s a bit choking.”

It was clear something was off with Shen Bianye. Not wanting to cause trouble, Xie Yuanxing’s tone was soft and careful.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the fiery, smoky scent filling the dorm abruptly dissipated.

Seeing that, Xie Yuanxing didn’t walk any closer.

They were only a step apart. Before closing the gap, he turned around. “Thanks. Get some rest.”

Shen Bianye: “Is it really that bad?”

Xie Yuanxing thought for a moment, then gave an honest answer: “It’s not terrible. I just don’t like it.”

The next second, his wrist was grabbed.

A burning-hot chest pressed against his back in the dark.

Shen Bianye’s voice came from above his head, low and strange—hoarse to the point of distortion:

“No. You have to like it.”