Monday morning. An atypical, viscous tranquility flowed through the laboratory.
Outside the window, sparrows hopped among the branches, disturbing the fallen, remnant ginkgo leaves. As was his routine, Silas Shen appeared punctually before the microscope. His white lab coat—forever ironed without a single wrinkle—glowed a bit blindingly in the morning light. He leaned forward slightly, his slender fingers resting on the metal dial, adjusting the focal distance with absolute concentration.
However, this pure research atmosphere was completely disrupted the exact moment Hunter Huo pushed the door open and walked in.
Perhaps the lingering afterglow of last night's "official date" was simply too potent, or perhaps the force of that ten-finger-intertwined grip still resonated in his fingertips, but Hunter's behavior today carried less restraint and more of a near-wild, unchecked possessiveness.
He didn't return to his own seat. Instead, he walked straight up behind Silas.
"Professor, you forgot this button again."
Hunter's voice was lazy, laced with a morning rasp that hadn't yet been washed away by the early chill. It sounded like a cluster of tiny hooks, scratching gently against one's eardrums.
Silas's fingers adjusting the focal distance froze instantly.
Before he could react, a warm, solid chest pressed flush against his spine. Bracing one hand on the edge of the lab bench, Hunter formed a semi-encircling posture, locking Silas securely within this square foot of space between himself and the counter.
A dry, warm, and aggressive scent of oranges instantly hijacked Silas's breathing.
Hunter's other hand reached over Silas's shoulder, his nimble fingertips hooking around the omitted, topmost button located right at the collar. That position was exceptionally intimate; the back of his fingers inevitably brushed against the small patch of bare skin on the nape of Silas's neck, exposed by his lowered head.
That was the exact location of the gland. Even though it was separated by a blocker patch, in Silas's acute perception, it felt as if a spark of fire had been ignited right there.
"I can do it myself," Silas spoke in a low voice, his tone tightly wound.
"Don't move, almost got it." Hunter didn't let go; on the contrary, he leaned in a fraction closer. His warm breath fanned across the side of Silas's neck, triggering a dense, uncontrollable shiver. "This is already the third time this week, Professor. Without me, what are you going to do?"
The moment the button slipped into the buttonhole, it let out an incredibly faint, crisp snap.
And right at this exact second, the laboratory door opened with a sharp creak.
"Professor Shen, regarding the first draft of the recruitment announcement, I—"
Lin, the teaching assistant, held a stack of printed papers in his hand. Before his sentence could even finish, he looked as though he had been hit by a pause button, freezing solid right on the doorknob.
From his vantage point, the tall, handsome, top-tier Alpha was intimately holding the cool, ascetic professor from behind. Their heads and necks overlapped, their coats blended together, and even the air was thick with a blushing, heart-racing stickiness that screamed of an "after-session" or the heights of a "passionate romance."
In that split second, Lin felt his entire worldview shatter into pieces within the sterile air of the laboratory.
Of course he knew there was "something going on" between Professor Shen and Hunter—after all, on the wedding day, Hunter's gaze looked as if it wanted to burn a hole right through Silas. But he had never imagined that Professor Shen—the man who carved "cleanliness" and "distance" directly into his bones—would ever permit someone to invade his private territory in such an offensive posture without resisting, and even... with a hint of indulgence.
"That... I'm sorry! Out of line! I'll re-enter!"
Lin squeezed out a faint, terrified squeak.
As if he had been electrocuted, Silas violently broke free from Hunter's confinement and turned around. The sheer magnitude of his movement nearly knocked over a nearby test tube rack.
Under the morning sun, his face—which was usually as cold and white as jade—was flushing crimson at a speed visible to the naked eye. Especially his round earlobes, which were so red they looked ready to bleed.
"Morning, Assistant Lin."
In stark contrast to Silas's utter disarray, Hunter appeared entirely composed. Far from displaying any embarrassment from being caught red-handed, he unhurriedly released his grip from the lab bench, and with an air of lingering relish, casually helped Silas straighten the collar that had gone slightly askew during the struggle.
The movement was so natural, it looked like someone taking care of their not-yet-awake lover in their own bedroom.
"Morning, morning, morning... Well, you guys carry on, carry on!" Lin shook his head like a bobblehead, his eyes darting erratically as he stumbled backward incoherently. "I, I'll go downstairs to buy a coffee. Half an hour... no, an hour later I'll come back!"
With a sharp bang, the laboratory door was slammed shut with force, as if lingering a second longer would expose his eyes to something that would cause styes.
Dead silence descended upon the laboratory.
Silas took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling dramatically. He glared fixedly at the tightly shut door, then turned his head to look at Hunter, who had an entirely innocent expression. He felt his head buzzing.
"Hunter Huo." He gritted his teeth, his voice carrying a tremor mixed with shame and irritation.
"Yeah?" Hunter answered exceptionally naturally, even leaning in a bit closer.
"From now on in the laboratory," Silas forced himself to lock eyes with those laughing pupils, warning him word by word, "you are not allowed to touch me, and you are absolutely not allowed... to do what you just did."
Hunter arched an eyebrow, instantly capturing the logical loophole in Silas's words. A wicked grin curled up the corner of his mouth: "So that means outside the laboratory, I can touch you however I want, and I can also do what I just did?"
Silas was choked up.
He had never lost an academic debate in his life, yet at this very moment, he was rendered utterly speechless by a brat in his early twenties. He could see through this kind of logical trap with a single glance, but the tingling numbness triggered by the ambiguity within his heart stripped him of his ability to strike back.
Looking at his defeated expression, Hunter finally couldn't hold it in any longer, bending over as he erupted into laughter.
"Silas Shen, your ears were seriously as red as a cooked shrimp just now. For real."
"Hunter Huo—!"