Chapter 8 Questionnaire

Chapter 8: The Questionnaire

Fu Rangyi was dragged into working overtime on this.

"Relax, I filled out my section ahead of time. It won’t take up too much of your time."

He cleared his throat and, putting on a show of seriousness, picked up another densely filled questionnaire. Standing up, he paced around the kitchen table while reading the contents aloud to Fu Rangyi.

"First, dietary preferences and restrictions. This is crucial—we blew it last time at the group dinner." Zhu Zhixi was deadpan serious. "As for fruit, my favorite is strawberries..."

No wonder the fridge was suddenly overflowing with strawberries the other day.

Fu Rangyi still remembered coming home from work the day before yesterday and running into Zhu Zhixi washing strawberries—enough to start a jam factory.

At the time, Zhu Zhixi was standing behind the open kitchen island, wearing a loose pastel yellow knit sweater, earbuds in, absentmindedly humming while washing the fruit. He swayed back and forth, not even noticing his sweater slipping off one shoulder. The golden hoop earrings on his ears were particularly eye-catching.

Noticing someone had come home, he shoved a strawberry toward him, blaring, "Want one?"

It was hard to imagine how high the volume on his headphones must have been.

This guy’s going deaf by forty at this rate.

He wasn’t even washing the fruit properly—most of his movements were going through the motions, dragging it out. Fu Rangyi placed his cup under the water dispenser and walked over, only to notice Zhu Zhixi’s phone playing a movie nearby.

This person seemed utterly incapable of focusing on one thing at a time.

His cup almost overflowed because he noticed something even more absurd: the number of washed strawberries had drastically decreased compared to before. Zhu Zhixi had been eating them as he washed, barely leaving a handful behind.

After asking again, "Really don’t want any?" and emphasizing, "I picked these myself at the strawberry farm, you know," Fu Rangyi still coldly refused.

"Explains why they looked so wonky," he added.

Yet the next morning, just before leaving for work, he found a note on the dining table that read: *Fu Rangyi, open the fridge.*

Curious about what kind of stunt this was, and despite knowing he was about to be late, he spared half a minute to open the fridge—only to see a cartoon lunchbox that might as well have ‘Zhu Zhixi’ stamped on it.

Lifting the lid, he spent several more precious seconds just gaping at it.

Inside was a little army of strawberry snowmen.

Each strawberry had its stem end as a hat, with a thin cylinder of banana sandwiched in between. Black sesame seeds dotted the banana as eyes, skewered together with toothpicks, and topped with a plump blueberry.

Another note was tucked inside the box.

[*Now they’re not ugly anymore, right? Hang tough, hubby~ Get your vitamins! ^-^*]

Fu Rangyi knew this was just to annoy him.

He peeled off the sticky note.

But fruit would go bad, and he hated wasting food, so he packed it up and took it with him.

Because of this, he had a freak one-minute tardy to his departmental class, setting off quiet chatter among the students in the group chat.

"My second favorite is figs, though honestly, I prefer their smell over eating them."

Zhu Zhixi suddenly stopped pacing and asked Fu Rangyi, "Ever get a whiff of a fig? That creamy-sweet scent—you gotta notice it."

"No," Fu Rangyi jolted back to reality. "Can’t stand anything milky."

Zhu Zhixi grinned and continued, "AOs with milky-scented pheromones are in luck—they’ve just landed on Teacher Fu’s dislike list."

Fu Rangyi: "..."

Zhu Zhixi: "Anyway, I really like figs, especially the ones with deep purple-red skin at peak ripeness."

In fact, Fu Rangyi was well aware of this.

Ever since Zhu Zhixi moved in, there had always been figs in the fridge, though he didn’t eat them often, letting them ripen until Fu Rangyi had almost said, "Don’t let them rot in my fridge."

Every time Zhu Zhixi opened the fridge, he would first take out a few figs, sniff them, and then put them back, like his nose had a built-in ripeness sensor.

"As for other foods, I like too many to be picky. But there are two things I don’t enjoy—one you already know." Zhu Zhixi tapped the table three times. "Celery—Grand Professor Fu’s culinary nemesis."

Did he have to rub it in...?

"I also don’t like cilantro, celery’s evil twin. They both have this weird smell." As he spoke, he had already circled to the end of the walnut dining table. "As for meat... I hate lean beef. It’s like chewing rubber."

Fu Rangyi couldn’t help but picture him chewing—cheeks bulging, lips sealed, chomping away.

Those teeth were practically made for veggies.

Does he like carrots? Suddenly, Fu Rangyi felt the urge to ask.

But in the end, he didn’t. He figured it wasn’t necessary—he could always observe and find out.

"Oh, right, I’m a fish lover, but bones? No thanks. When I was little, I got one stuck in my throat and had to go to the hospital to get it removed with tweezers." Zhu Zhixi gestured with his index finger and thumb. "This long, stuck right here in my throat."

Fu Rangyi glanced at his neck.

"Miraculously, it didn’t shut you up."

Zhu Zhixi widened his eyes, as if appalled by his heartlessness.

But he kept going, doubling down, words tumbling out faster.

Though Fu Rangyi looked completely uninterested and gave almost zero feedback, he didn’t budge from the table, as if his legs had resigned from duty and he’d lost the will to refuse.

"Ah, right, I forgot to write this down—need to add it." Zhu Zhixi paused and jotted down an addendum. "I’m allergic to cat fur."

Oh, I know.

On the third day after moving in, at around 7 p.m., they coincidentally met for the first time at the elevator in the underground garage and ended up sharing the ride.

When they reached the first floor, a female Omega stepped in, and Zhu Zhixi, as if suddenly attuned to pheromones, immediately moved closer.

But soon, Fu Rangyi realized he was actually drawn to the chubby tabby in her arms.

*It’s so pretty! Can I pet it? Will it be scared of me?*

After a triple-question barrage, he was granted a five-second petting license and was overjoyed, stealing glances at Fu Rangyi like a kid seeking approval.

Fu Rangyi raised an eyebrow at the time.

*Why look at me? Did I stop you?*

At the time, Zhu Zhixi was drunk on cat-petting bliss, paws all over it, chatting it up like long-lost kin.

Even when they reached their floor, he reluctantly waved goodbye to the cat, completely oblivious to the flustered blush creeping up the owner’s face.

You'd think betas suddenly developed the ability to emit pheromones now.

But shortly after getting home, Zhu Zhixi started sneezing uncontrollably, and rashes broke out on his face.

Of course Fu Rangyi knew it was allergies.

But at the time, he held his cup, walked over, and acted casual as he asked, "Why'd you paint your face so red? Going on stage or something?"

This was just his way of hinting that there were allergy meds in the TV cabinet in the living room. But Zhu Zhixi was clueless—he actually started singing, though only for two lines before another sneeze cut him off.

In the end, Fu Rangyi still took the initiative to fetch the medicine for him. He didn’t want Zhu Zhixi rummaging through his medicine cabinet or seeing the huge supply of suppressants inside.

"I love rock music, but I also enjoy symphonies..."

"And then, I'm kind of a collector. I keep random things, like postcards friends send me from around the world, cool rocks I find on the street, or fallen leaves—my drawers are packed with random things."

"I've worked all kinds of jobs. My current profession is a curator, which is the most stable one I’ve had."

"When I was studying abroad, I ran a craft shop and a campus café. I love volunteering around the world, and I’ve worked as a fashion buyer, did some modeling on the side, directed short films, filled in as a band singer, been a wildlife photographer, and even ran a stray animal shelter..."

Fu Rangyi listened quietly, yet inexplicably, his mind conjured scenes for every word Zhu Zhixi spoke—one after another, pieced together between syllables, growing clearer and clearer.

He could even picture Zhu Zhixi in those places, doing those things.

For the first time in his life, Fu Rangyi realized he possessed such a vivid imagination—one he couldn’t even control.

Zhu Zhixi's life was packed compared to an average person’s, the complete opposite of Fu Rangyi’s home-to-work routine.

So now, forced to stay with him, trapped in an apartment in City S—was Zhu Zhixi bored out of his mind?

"That's pretty much it." Zhu Zhixi finished reading with a smile, pulled out the nearest chair beside him, and sat down, sliding the completed questionnaire over. "Think you can keep all that straight?"

Fu Rangyi didn’t answer. After a brief pause, he reached out and, like some kind of professor, pointed to one line.

It was a section Zhu Zhixi had written and then scribbled out entirely—hard to miss.

Fu Rangyi glanced at his own blank form and asked, "'What makes me cry'—why didn’t you write this part?"

Zhu Zhixi slumped over the table, silent for a few seconds, then looked at him. "I didn’t think it was necessary. I hardly ever cry as an adult, so it’s not really a scenario that comes up."

"You don’t need to write it either," he added, cutting off any chance for Fu Rangyi to press further.

Soon, Zhu Zhixi straightened up and handed the pen over. "Your turn."

But Fu Rangyi acted like a rich jerk with lawyers on speed dial—committing a crime, then leaning back in his chair, stonewalling.

"I don’t want to write."

Zhu Zhixi wasn’t giving up. He took the pen back and picked up the blank form like he was taking dictation.

"Then you talk, and I’ll write."

But he still underestimated just how difficult Fu Rangyi could be. No matter what question he asked, Fu Rangyi gave the most vague answers imaginable.

"What do you like to eat?"

"Not really."

"Is there anything you can’t stand eating?"

"There are quite a few," Fu Rangyi said, as if deliberately making things difficult, listing a whole string of items. "Fatty meat—not even a speck; scallions, especially spring onions; offal, particularly liver; durian..."

"Slow down, I can't keep up with all that."

Who could be this difficult?

He couldn't help but sigh. "With tastes this picky, raising you must’ve been a nightmare."

Something must’ve rubbed him the wrong way, because after that, no matter what Zhu Zhixi asked, Fu Rangyi refused to answer.

Favorite singer? Doesn’t listen to music. Hated movies? All bad ones. Favorite book? Doesn’t have one...

He was like a cat that hates being petted—no touching, no closeness. Walled off.

It was pointless. He knew very well that as soon as they returned to this home with just the two of them, Fu Rangyi would keep his distance, not even staying in the same room.

But the countdown kept ticking, just slower.

[49 days, 19 hours, 23 minutes, 09 seconds]

He wanted to be Fu Rangyi’s friend, or at least a less distant roommate, with some emotional connection. At least they could share the couch watching TV—bumping elbows, maybe even a loose arm around his shoulder.

That wasn’t too much to ask.

"Then how about telling me about your work?" he tried again.

"Not your business."

"Why not?" Zhu Zhixi said. "What if I run into your colleagues? I can’t look clueless about your job, right? People bond over work—nothing’s hotter than someone passionate about their job. Just tell me."

Truth was, Zhu Zhixi just wanted to crack him open.

He had done some research, from the materials Zhu Zeran had sent him—though only after they’d gotten married.

Fu Rangyi was the only top-tier Alpha in the Fu family. Alphas were rare to begin with, and top-tier ones even rarer. The Fu family had no Alpha genes—him being one was a fluke.

Zhu Zeran had complained too.

[They’re willing to let their precious top-tier Alpha son marry a beta instead of passing on those Alpha genes—something’s fishy.]

Maybe he’s shooting blanks?

Zhu Zhixi didn’t care. He knew Fu Rangyi wasn’t a bad person.

Yeah, he was brusque and antisocial, but his lifestyle was so disciplined it hardly fit an Alpha. After work, it was either the gym or academic journals.

Zhu Zhixi had met all kinds of people, and thanks to his parents’ good looks, he’d endured his share of harassment. Yet living under the same roof, Fu Rangyi never crossed any lines.

He’d leave the porch light on if Zhu Zhixi was out late, or inexplicably appear in the living room when Zhu Zhixi went out to the convenience store at midnight, saying he was taking out the trash—"coincidentally" at the same time.

Before this, Zhu Zhixi had held some prejudices against Alphas.

He’d seen too many Alphas lose it when their hormones spiked, and the free passes they got. It wasn’t right.

But beyond the Alpha thing, he wanted Fu Rangyi the *person*—what he did, how he lived.

For Fu Rangyi, work is life, and work makes up most of his life.

Because they live together, Zhu Zhixi can observe many details without even asking.

Even odd habits.

For example, Fu Rangyi likes to read papers standing up. He places his laptop on the kitchen island in the open kitchen and pours himself a full glass of wine, sipping it while reading.

Reading academic papers with wine is pretty weird. Even weirder is that he seems to get more clear-headed the more he drinks. No wonder his wine cabinet is stocked with so many bottles. This is pretty much his only bad habit.

Sometimes, when Zhu Zhixi passes by the kitchen and catches a strong whiff of red wine, he assumes Fu Rangyi must be drunk—only to look up and find his expression unchanged, his speech just as sharp and sarcastic as usual.

Beyond observation, Zhu Zhixi has found other ways to get to know Fu Rangyi.

He downloaded many of Fu Rangyi’s published papers and discovered that he attended a top-tier boarding school. He started university at 17, scoring far above the admission line for archaeology, then went on to a top-tier university for his master's and Ph.D., publishing extensively with an impressive number of citations. By 25, he had graduated and joined S University, becoming the youngest professor in the department within just a few years. He even published a bestselling popular science book.

It was a life in fast-forward.

For someone like this to be forced into a sham marriage—Zhu Zhixi couldn’t imagine why. But Fu Rangyi would never bring it up, and Zhu Zhixi had no intention of opening that can of worms.

He just wanted to use these conversations to melt the ice between them.

As expected, using work as a starting point was the perfect approach. Fu Rangyi began explaining his research field, though briefly and keeping it vague.

"My current focus is Neolithic archaeology. I won’t go into specifics—you don’t need that level of detail."

Fu Rangyi added, "During my studies, I did some underwater archaeology for a while, but my vision wasn't good enough, so I switched to West Asian archaeology before eventually focusing on local archaeology. That’s all you really need to know."

Zhu Zhixi got excited. "West Asia? So you’ve done fieldwork in places like Saudi Arabia and Turkey? Do you speak Arabic or Turkish?"

"A little."

"Me too!"

Zhu Zhixi slowly said in Turkish, "Hello, I’m Chinese. I like dogs and cats. How about you?"

Fu Rangyi stared at his lips and deliberately replied, "I don’t understand."

"Fine." Zhu Zhixi shrugged. "Good thing you didn’t—I just snuck in a couple insults."

At that, the corner of Fu Rangyi’s mouth lifted slightly, though he didn’t seem to notice.

Having finally pried some information out of him, Zhu Zhixi eagerly made mental notes while asking more questions. The approach worked surprisingly well—Fu Rangyi was less resistant and even offered details about a site his team had once excavated.

He even showed Zhu Zhixi photos with surprising enthusiasm.

Unlike the grand, awe-inspiring ruins one might imagine, filled with rare antiquities, the site looked more like a plowed field. Anyone else would have been disappointed: "What? It's just a hole in the ground?"

Fu Rangyi was used to that reaction.

But Zhu Zhixi always seemed to be different.

His eyes lit up as he leaned in to zoom in on the photo. "This is so cool. The fact that something like this could even be discovered… An actual site. Just thinking about all the ancient artifacts and civilizations that might be unearthed here—it’s amazing. If I were the one who dug this up, I’d be too excited to sleep. You’re incredible."

His tone was utterly sincere. If this was what he called "acting," Fu Rangyi thought, Zhu Zhixi might actually win a Silver Bear.

"It’s the team’s success, not mine alone."

"But you’re still amazing." Zhu Zhixi wanted to examine the details but accidentally tapped the screen. The photo vanished, shrinking back into the grid of thumbnails.

At that moment, he realized that most of the thumbnails on the screen were in muted earth tones—likely all photos from archaeological sites.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he revisited the question Fu Rangyi had previously dismissed as pointless.

“So, your favorite color wouldn’t happen to be the color of soil, would it? Like the color of earth and sediment in these excavation photos.”

He expected a dismissive answer, but Fu Rangyi actually fell into thought.

“Maybe.”

Zhu Zhixi’s question had made him reflect. He hadn’t even realized it himself.

“Many people probably think the color of soil is lifeless, dirty, something that leaves you covered in dust. But I don’t see it that way. Sometimes, soil is more vibrant than living things—a kind of all-encompassing, expansive vitality.”

Having said this, Fu Rangyi regretted it slightly. These thoughts felt unnecessary for their current relationship.

But the next second, Zhu Zhixi gave his arm an enthusiastic slap. “I get what you mean!”

“The land always seems heavy and silent, but it hides so many civilizations that once thrived. And even now, it’s still giving birth to new life. It’s magical, full of vitality.”

Fu Rangyi gazed at him silently.

“And I’ve seen colorful soil before—red, even purple. It was beautiful, in a small village in Mauritius. When I visited, an old woman there smeared purple soil on my face, right here.”

As he spoke, Zhu Zhixi leaned in close, pointing to his own cheek. Under the light, his skin looked especially pale, the peach fuzz clearly visible.

But his paleness wasn’t the washed-out, pallid kind. Especially after a shower, when he sat at the dining table in loungewear with his knees hugged to his chest, the warm light casting over his cheeks always made Fu Rangyi think of freshly pounded rice cakes steaming hot.

He could even picture how the purple soil would look smeared across that face.

His mind wandered briefly. By the time he snapped back, Zhu Zhixi had already crossed out the color entry and filled in a new answer.

Hunched over, he wrote earnestly, the backs of his ears turned pink—a shade similar to the redness pressed into his fingers from gripping the pen too tightly.

“Okay, next.”

Zhu Zhixi was about to move on to the next question in order when suddenly, he heard a crisp, familiar sound—one he’d heard many times over these past few days.

Turning his head, he saw the Suppressor Bracelet on Fu Rangyi’s wrist, glinting coldly under the light.

Instantly, all the planned questions vanished from his mind.

In a daze, he blurted, “Fu Rangyi, what does your pheromone smell like?”

Author’s Note:

This one's extra long today!

And don’t be too hard on Teacher Fu’s stubbornness and his quirky ways of caring (though I know most comments are just teasing). There’s a reason for it—Xiao Zhu is essentially the first person he’s had deep, prolonged contact with (Li Jiao: Yep, he’s surpassed me already), and purely as two “people,” not as alpha, beta, or omega. So he’s somewhat awkward, even at a loss.

These two would make great stand-up comedians because later on, they’ll keep riffing off each other constantly.

—Bonus Scene: Student Group Chat—

[Teacher Fu was actually late today?!!]

[Bad traffic today??]

[Damn, I was almost late too, and then I ran into him. His stride so long it took three of my steps to match one of his—felt like the Grim Reaper was on my heels…]

["Only Teacher Fu would apologize for being even one minute late."]

["Married life must have reduced Teacher Fu's motivation to wake up early, lol."]

["Wait, Teacher Fu is actually married?!"]

["Yeah, I heard from Old Wang that their desk was full of wedding candies with Teacher Fu's name on the card. His wife's name is also really nice—Zhu Zhixi."]

["Their names are such a perfect match! Just their names sound elegant, graceful, and wise."]

["I know why Teacher Fu was late—he brought an adorable little lunchbox and dropped it off at the office first, which made him late (source: reliable)."]

["A lunch packed with love!!"]

["Wow, marriage really changes a person! Wishing them happiness (plz don't @ me)."]

["Teacher Fu won’t give off alpha pheromones anymore (not that he ever did), just major husband energy now."]

["Teacher Fu, don’t feel like teaching today—we wanna see Mrs. Fu instead."]