Three days before the wedding, autumn had deepened in the capital. The ginkgo trees lining both sides of the streets had dropped a carpet of shattered gold upon the pavement.
Early that morning, Hunter Huo had blocked the entrance to Silas Shen's office, dangling a pair of car keys in his hand. He looked as high-spirited as a decorated service dog about to receive a medal. Half-forced, Silas was whisked away to a private, bespoke tailor shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the city center.
Pushing open the heavy walnut doors, they were greeted by the faint scent of sandalwood mingling with the crisp, dry aroma of high-end fabrics. Three massive dressing mirrors reflected a low-profile luster under the soft spotlights.
"Didn't I say anything casual would do?" Silas stood before rows of dizzying fabric samples, his brow furrowing imperceptibly. "It's just a student's wedding; there's no need for such grandiosity."
He was used to the rigor of a lab coat and the monotony of the laboratory. Toward tailoring that so explicitly emphasized the lines of the body, he felt a subconscious resistance born of a certain "sense of shame."
"That won't do! Professor, have you forgotten?" Hunter was already weaving through the racks with practiced ease, his long fingers gliding over rows of expensive wool. His tone carried an uncontainable excitement. "This is our first official public appearance together—showing up as 'family'! In case anyone at the wedding starts getting ideas about you, I need to look the part to give them a little visual intimidation, don't I?"
As Hunter spoke, he was already huddled with the shop assistant, discussing tie color pairings in low tones. Recently, he had developed a nearly obsessive desire to control Silas's wardrobe; he didn't just want Silas to look good, he wanted Silas to look compatible with him.
"Professor, charcoal gray or navy blue?" Hunter turned around, holding two color swatches.
Silas's gaze lingered on the two deep hues for a second before finally landing on Hunter's blonde hair, which glowed under the sunlight. He yielded in his usual cool tone: "...Charcoal gray."
"Got it! Charcoal gray it is!" Hunter beamed. He grabbed three sets of ready-made suits handed over by the assistant and ducked into the fitting room.
Silas sat on a single leather sofa in the lounge area, flipping through a fashion magazine. His heartbeat was slightly unsteady because of Hunter's use of the word "family." It was just a simple word, yet when it tumbled out of that boy's mouth, it always carried a lingering, seductive tenderness.
A moment later, the wooden door of the fitting room creaked softly.
"Professor, how do I look?"
Silas closed the magazine and looked up. His breath hitched for an instant without warning.
This was a Hunter Huo he had never seen before.
The charcoal gray three-piece suit perfectly complemented the youth's superior physical proportions. Broad shoulders filled out the silhouette of the jacket, while the narrow, powerful waist, cinched by the vest, exuded an aesthetic of ascetic beauty. The roguish, untamed boyishness he usually carried was, in this moment, suppressed by the proper, sophisticated tailoring. In its place was a masculine, predatory handsomeness that sat right on the edge between boy and man.
His flamboyant blonde hair had been styled back simply, revealing a clean, sharp forehead. He stood before the giant mirror, looking down slightly to adjust his cuffs. Sensing Silas's gaze, he turned his head. His eyes were bright, looking as if they held all the lights of the room within them.
Silas gripped the magazine a little tighter. For the first time, he felt a visceral realization: this "Golden Retriever" who usually acted spoiled and pestered him was, in fact, a full-grown Alpha capable of imposing pressure on anyone.
"Your tie is crooked." Silas looked away. His voice sounded even flatter than usual, but it hid a trace of unmaskable fluster.
"Huh? Is it?" Hunter tugged at it haphazardly in the mirror. Instead of straightening it, he only made it messier. He put on a defeated expression, looking at Silas with puppy-dog eyes. "Professor, help me out. I can't handle this thing."
Silas sighed inwardly but eventually stood up and walked over.
He stopped a step away from Hunter and raised his hands, his fingertips pinching the high-quality silk tie. Their distance was excessively close. Hunter's mild yet persistent orange pheromones invaded again, colonizing every one of Silas's pores.
Silas kept his eyes down, focusing on untying the messy Windsor knot. His movements were steady, but as his long fingers folded the silk, they inevitably brushed against the skin of Hunter's neck.
It was Hunter's Adam's apple, bobbing restlessly with every breath. Silas felt a scorching heat radiate from his fingertips; that hard cartilage felt as if it carried an electric current, making the places he touched go numb.
"Professor."
Hunter spoke suddenly, his voice low and incredibly clear in the quiet shop.
"Hm?" Silas was concentrated on pulling the final loop of the knot tight, his senses filled with the boy's vibrant aura.
"Do you know what you look like right now?"
"What?" Silas looked up instinctively, crashing into a pair of eyes that were deep as a cold pool yet swirling with scorching emotion.
Hunter looked down at Silas's close-proximity eyelashes, seeing his own reflection in those eyes that were usually as cool as snow. His voice became extremely soft, carrying a light, intoxicating warmth like wine:
"You look like a newlywed wife helping her husband with his tie."
Silas froze completely.
The tie knot he had just finished suddenly tightened under his fingertips. Out of shame and irritation, his hand clamped down instinctively, and the tie instantly constricted around Hunter's throat.
"Ow! Professor... you're killing me..." Hunter's head lolled to the side as he let out an exaggerated wail.
As if he had been electrocuted, Silas retracted his hands. Because of the sudden force, his fingernail left a faint red scratch on the side of Hunter's neck. His ears burned red inch by inch under the light, and his white complexion flushed a deep crimson. Even his breathing grew ragged.
"Hunter Huo, do you not want to attend the wedding anymore?" Silas spoke with a cold face, trying to use his professor's authority to cover the embarrassment of his internal chaos. But his trembling voice betrayed his utter disarray.
"I do, I do! I was wrong! Professor Shen, have mercy!" Hunter rubbed his neck, grinning even more shamelessly than before. Looking at Silas—who wanted to explode with anger yet was desperately restraining himself—Hunter felt as if a giant handful of popping candy had been shoved into his heart, fizzing with an overwhelming sweetness.