[#Ling Che brings a beautiful Omega home# What the hell do you mean, brings home? Are the paparazzi goldfish with only seven seconds of memory??? They were just trending yesterday at midnight! Please, can you be a bit more professional and pay attention to changes in the industry? [eye roll] This is a new artist signed by Xingjing, named Andrew Bennett. If you don’t remember, go do your own homework—stop making me give you free lessons! See the Mist commercial for reference. Xingjing just had their annual party last night, is it so strange for someone from the same company as Will to run into each other? Also, according to insiders, last night those paparazzi surrounded the Fisher Hotel where Xingjing was holding their annual party, constantly making harassing calls to disturb the private lives of guests and artists [disdain]. My irresponsible guess is that Will and his manager left separately to get away, and Bennett was just giving him a ride home. PS: The driver was Bennett’s manager.]

This Flow post was forwarded tens of thousands of times, quickly slapping the faces of those paparazzi.

The Asteroids laughed wildly in the comments, praising Andrew Bennett for doing a great job.

[He really took care of my William! So sweet!]

[I'm a fan now.]

[He did everything he promised, baby loves you [heart]]

The incident quickly died down by half. Later, Xingjing Entertainment released a statement, sternly condemning the paparazzi for making things up, and also mentioning that William Clark and Andrew Bennett are just friends, so everyone shouldn’t speculate.

As soon as this statement came out, anyone with eyes could see it was a textbook PR move, all for that so-called William Clark Omega discrimination rumor.

William Clark being “friends” with an Omega was enough to temporarily shut up those with ulterior motives trying to blow things out of proportion. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a good start.

Sarah Cooper was very skilled at this game.

At this point, Andrew Bennett still had no idea of the deeper meaning behind it all.

He was also scrolling through Flow, wanting to see if anyone was bashing him. To his surprise, no one was, and he was a bit dumbfounded.

Until he saw a comment that had shot to the top.

[Am I the only one who noticed that gege took off his jacket and put it over Andrew Bennett’s head? That’s so alpha, but I’m so jealous, really jealous [crying hard]... I want gege’s jacket too [touching fingers]]

Andrew Bennett was sitting on the sofa, with William Clark’s jacket draped over the backrest.

William Clark could be a bit annoying sometimes, but—he pulled the jacket back, and the scent of his pheromones was actually pretty nice.

A moment later.

Damn.

He had a nosebleed again.

Chapter 8

The hospital is always the busiest place.

Andrew Bennett forced himself to register at the front desk. The nurse couldn’t help glancing at him several times, and passersby were looking too. He hadn’t realized it was because of last night’s trending topic on Flow—he just felt a chill down his spine and quickly took out the pheromone blocker he’d just inhaled, using it again and again.

If things went badly, he’d end up in the social news, headline: “Shocking! An Omega in the 22nd century dies from expired inhibitors—ignorance or stupidity?”

Andrew Bennett made a beeline for the Omega internal medicine department, like he’d done it a hundred times.

“Don’t make a fuss, it’s just a false heat.” Thomas Perry looked at the report and said with the maturity of someone much older, “Don’t blame our hospital’s inhibitors. Look, the test shows they’re good for at least another six months.”

Thomas Perry was only nineteen, and Andrew Bennett’s roommate.

Roommate in name only—this newly adult Omega was busy working on a PhD and interning at the hospital with his professor, probably home less than ten days a month.

Andrew Bennett insisted, “But I had a nosebleed.”

He’d felt feverish all over since waking up, and the glands that had started swelling yesterday hadn’t gone down at all. There was a strange, restless feeling running through his body. When he got out of bed, his legs nearly gave out—he knew something was wrong.

Andrew Bennett was well-versed in health knowledge, and told Thomas Perry everything in detail.

Thomas Perry pushed up his black-rimmed glasses and frowned. “Did your reproductive pouch open?”

Andrew Bennett blushed. “...I don’t know.”

Thomas Perry sighed. “You’ve watched so many videos and still don’t know the basics—”

Andrew Bennett: “Hey! Theory can’t compare to practice, right? What are you talking about, you’re no better yourself!”

Thomas Perry ignored him, asking in a flat tone, “Did you check yourself?”

“...” Andrew Bennett wanted to bang his head on the table, his whole body about to go up in smoke. “No... I shouldn’t have come to you...”

“Then what else could it be but false heat?” Thomas Perry was the picture of professional calm, “You differentiated late and have never been marked. If you have frequent contact with an Alpha in a short period, it’s easy to have a false heat. The nosebleed just means your glands are very sensitive to his pheromones, and your body really wants to be marked by him. I suggest you let him give you a temporary mark—anyway, you can’t get pregnant during a false heat.”

Doctors really are all scumbags.

Andrew Bennett covered his face, the icy beauty mask completely shattered, now just a boiled egg: “...No way, that’s way too hard.”

Letting William Clark mark him? He’d be asking for death.

Thomas Perry said, “If you don’t want to be marked, then avoid contact with him as much as possible. Best not to see him, so your glands don’t get stimulated again.”

It’s over.