Chapter 11: Feeding
“Zhaozhao, are you hungry?” Wen Zheng’s voice, carrying its usual tenderness, accompanied the opening of the office door.
But his smile froze the moment he saw the scene inside, turning into a gloom so deep it could drip water.
He Qianyu was still here. What was even more eyesore-inducing was that the boy had both hands propped on Jiang Zhaosheng’s desk, leaning forward in an intimate posture.
In the air, the two Alpha pheromones collided silently, filling the space with a sense of drawn swords.
Jiang Zhaosheng sat properly behind his desk, fingers interlaced on his lap. He observed this face-changing uninvited guest with interest, thinking he had arrived just in time. See? Someone like you is exactly what Shang Yan will never stop looking for.
Wen Zheng’s heart sank: He isn’t the only one who can get close to Jiang Zhaosheng?
“He Qianyu,” Wen Zheng was still holding an exquisite bento bag, which made his current somber expression look somewhat comical. “Who allowed you to come in here?”
He strode in with a gust of wind, reaching out to grab He Qianyu’s chest, wanting to fiercely tear this annoying guy away from Jiang Zhaosheng.
He Qianyu’s reaction was very fast. The moment Wen Zheng’s hand was about to touch him, he straightened up and retreated a half-step, just barely avoiding Wen Zheng’s hand.
While he was cooperating with Jiang Zhaosheng, a sense of defiance also brewed in his heart. Especially Wen Zheng’s intimate call of “Zhaozhao” when he entered was like a thorn in his side, and hostility arose.
“Yo,” He Qianyu raised an eyebrow, a roguish smile touching the corners of his mouth. He deliberately pronounced the words “Teacher Jiang” softly and lingeringly, his gaze darting toward the silent Jiang Zhaosheng. “Isn’t this Senior Wen? What, the school counseling room has become your backyard? Even Teacher Jiang hasn’t kicked me out; what are you in such a hurry for?”
“Afraid I’ll… steal your spot?”
Being looked at by that lingering gaze, the fine hairs on Jiang Zhaosheng’s nape stood up slightly. He turned his face away expressionlessly, complaining silently in his heart: Greasy.
This subtle resistance fell into Wen Zheng’s eyes and became iron-clad proof that Jiang Zhaosheng was being “forced,” instantly igniting his suppressed anger.
“You—!” The veins on Wen Zheng’s forehead throbbed slightly, his gaze as sharp as a knife as it carved into He Qianyu.
The priority was checking if Jiang Zhaosheng was injured. Wen Zheng set down the bento, rounded the desk, and knelt. Taking the other’s hand, he asked with concern:
“Zhaozhao, what is he doing here? Stay away from him; he’s nothing good…”
“Did Shang Yan send him here to harass you?” Wen Zheng’s gaze was locked onto Jiang Zhaosheng, as if confirming whether he had suffered even a bit of grievance.
Jiang Zhaosheng calmly lowered his gaze, his long eyelashes casting a shadow, obscuring those glass-bead-like eyes. Looking at Wen Zheng’s resolute yet anxious face, a thought clearly emerged: The opportunity has come.
He didn’t show submission or silence toward Wen Zheng’s possessive touch as usual.
Instead, he lightly pulled his hand away. Under Wen Zheng’s startled gaze, his warm fingertips landed on the furrow between the man’s tightly locked brows.
This move made both Alphas freeze at the same time. Joy flooded Wen Zheng’s heart; he almost thought this was some kind of signal of tacit permission… However, the next second, he heard Jiang Zhaosheng’s calm voice:
“Wen Zheng.”
The fingertips left. There was no anger or sense of being offended on Jiang Zhaosheng’s face. Wen Zheng half-knelt on the floor, his vision involuntarily drawn to a few curled strands of hair on the other’s chest… Combined with that near-soothing action just now, it gave him the hallucination of being embraced by “maternal” tolerance.
…He Qianyu’s eyes were practically glowing.
“Student He is here for psychological counseling. As for whether he’s harassing me, I am an adult; I can judge for myself.”
Jiang Zhaosheng even specifically used patient explanation before shifting his tone:
“But you, Wen Zheng, this is a school, not your private territory. Your concern for me is a bit over the line.”
After hearing these words, Wen Zheng snapped out of his sweet reverie. He looked at Jiang Zhaosheng in disbelief. Why? Why are you being so polite to this flamboyant, insolent guy who was clearly sent by Shang Yan?
“…I’m overly concerned?”
Only then did he notice Jiang Zhaosheng’s slightly reclined posture, a few soft strands of hair sliding over his shoulders. Even He Qianyu beside them cast a look of disapproval—both were silently accusing him of losing control.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and suppressed the surging urgency. When he spoke again, his voice was almost humble: “Zhaozhao, do you know who he is? He is… he is Shang Yan’s man. I’ve seen him by Shang Yan’s side. He Qianyu must have approached you on purpose; what good intentions could he possibly have for you?”
He Qianyu, who had been appreciating Jiang Zhaosheng’s beauty from the side, finally caught the opportunity and immediately added fuel to the fire.
He crossed his arms, his tone deliberately sounding innocent and aggrieved:
“Oh my, you can’t say it like that. Teacher Jiang understands my problems and is willing to help me. Isn’t this a normal teacher-student relationship? How did it become so filthy in your mouth?”
“Or rather, in the eyes of Young Master Wen, everyone who wants to get close to Teacher Jiang has ‘ulterior motives’ like me? Then you… what kind of thing are you?”
“Shut up!” Wen Zheng suddenly turned his head, glaring fiercely at He Qianyu. The pressure of his pheromones almost solidified as he tried to completely suppress this disgusting person.
The pheromone clash between Alphas was like an invisible wrestling arena; both sides endured massive pressure. He Qianyu let out a muffled groan, the veins on his forehead throbbing, but instead of retreating, he showed a savage smile. He also released his own grass-scented pheromones to resist, his gaze full of mockery as he looked at Wen Zheng.
Jiang Zhaosheng watched Wen Zheng’s rage and He Qianyu’s provocation with cold eyes. That’s enough.
He let out a sigh, drawing all of Wen Zheng’s attention.
“Wen Zheng, your so-called protection fundamentally doesn’t hold water.”
He reached out and turned the computer screen toward Wen Zheng.
The screen showed He Qianyu’s medical record in the academy system—the appointment time was twenty minutes ago. Psychology Department, consultation items: sleep disorder, emotional regulation.
“—As for Student He, he really is here for psychological counseling.”
“Exactly,” He Qianyu immediately took the chance, clutching his chest and acting aggrieved, though his eyes were startlingly bright as he looked at Jiang Zhaosheng. “It’s still Teacher Zhaozhao who is good, willing to listen to me and so gentle…”
The intimacy of the name made the veins in Wen Zheng’s temples throb. He glared at He Qianyu, wishing he could cut him into a thousand pieces with his gaze.
At this moment, Jiang Zhaosheng stood up, elegantly straightening his suit cuffs. He gave a business-like order to see the guest out:
“Student He, your consultation time is up. If there’s a need for follow-up, please make an appointment according to the process. Now, please leave.”
Although He Qianyu still wanted more, thinking of the “private number” on the card in his pocket, he suppressed his restless mood. He gave Jiang Zhaosheng an “I get it” look and a provocative glance at Wen Zheng before lazily wandering away.
“Speak, what business do you have with me?”
Only the two of them remained in the office.
Wen Zheng’s tense nerves finally relaxed, carrying a trace of late, almost appeasing caution.
He had gained all of Jiang Zhaosheng’s current patience—the man had even specifically “taken care” of his emotions just now. This made his heart feel both sour and bitter, and he felt more and more like an unreasonable child.
It was just that the annoying love rival had left; without a “control group,” he was even more worried about whether his weight in Zhaozhao’s heart had been shaken… This state of fear of gain and loss, isn’t it just competing for favor? A trace of bitter self-mockery arose in Wen Zheng’s heart.
He stood up silently, opened the exquisite bento bag, took out the food box, and carefully lifted the lid—
Instantly, an enticing aroma filled the room. On the tray, a perfectly seared salmon fillet had a golden, slightly charred skin, and the texture of the fish was clearly visible. Beside it were bright green asparagus and soft, roasted baby potatoes. The color, aroma, and taste were all present, instantly stirring the appetite.
Jiang Zhaosheng’s eyes honestly lit up: he truly was hungry. That bit of rice porridge from this morning had long been digested, and his stomach felt empty.
But… did he learn how to apply things after seeing Jiang Wan’s order at the restaurant? Otherwise, how did he know I prefer seafood?
Chopsticks, plates, and even stewed soup were all provided. From the first bite, Jiang Zhaosheng discovered that this chef… seemed to be the same person who made the porridge this morning.
“This hotel,” Jiang Zhaosheng set down his chopsticks and asked casually, “do they take individual delivery orders?”
Compared to salmon, he actually preferred the texture of mackerel.
Wen Zheng was nervously observing his reaction. Hearing this, he froze for a moment, an unnatural look flickering across his face. He mumbled vaguely:
“…Uh, I… I’ll go ask the chef if they can do it.”
Jiang Zhaosheng took small sips of the soup, feeling a bit of pity: It seems I won’t be able to order it.
What a shame; it had been a long time since he’d had mackerel that suited his taste. So the skills of a five-star chef were indeed not that easy to come by.
Seeing Jiang Zhaosheng’s satisfied look, Wen Zheng’s mood was complex.
Translator’s Note: “Feeding” (投餵 – tóuwèi) often implies a sense of pampering or taking care of someone.
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