Cocoon (Lily ABO) - Chapter 16

The morning after a rainstorm always feels particularly fresh and clean.

As Han Jingman drove to the university, the streets were lined with tree branches and fallen leaves snapped by last night’s hurricane. In some blocks, clearing vehicles had already been deployed to tidy the roads. The car radio provided rolling coverage of the heavy rain and damage caused by the typhoon’s landfall; fortunately, shortly after coming ashore, the storm had veered into another state, so the actual losses were not severe.

Even so, the rainfall that night had reached a staggering 37mm. Consequently, Han Jingman received an email from the school early that morning stating that due to flooding, some of the outdoor parking lots were forced to close. She had to circle around and park in the indoor garage, a place she rarely visited.

Han Jingman had always been an exceptional student. Before the end of her fourth year, with the help of her advisor, she had passed the final assessments of her committee members and successfully completed her thesis defense a year early.

When discussing career intentions back then, Han Jingman mentioned she wanted to teach, which drew teasing from Jian Ying. Jian Ying claimed that while Han Jingman looked like a cool, aloof social elite on the surface, she was an “old pedant” at heart. To this day, Jian Ying still intentionally teased her by calling her “Professor Han” or “Teacher Han.”

Compared to high-paying corporate firms, the university was indeed more suitable for her to focus on what she loved. Han Jingman had always hoped to use her own efforts to change the public’s stereotypical perception of “weak” Omegas, and brilliant research results were undoubtedly the most direct way to do so.

Thus, after a year as a Postdoc at a top research institute, she accepted her alma mater’s invitation without hesitation, becoming one of the youngest assistant professors in the faculty. Later, she slowly built her own small lab and began lecturing to undergraduates.

With the new semester beginning, the students had finished their orientation, and teaching would return to its regular track next week. Today was just an informal internal seminar for the faculty’s assistant professors to share their recent experimental results.

After several tea breaks, Han Jingman was the last to go up and give a brief report. She gave a general introduction to the progress of Ling Yu’s project, which once again sparked a heated discussion among the group.

Several envious assistant professors inquired about Ling Yu’s future plans after graduation, wondering if she would follow Han Jingman’s example and graduate early. After all, this Alpha’s excellence was obvious to everyone. When Ling Yu first applied to this school, many leading figures in the field had extended olive branches to her, but she ultimately ended up in Han Jingman’s lab.

As the group gathered to chatter, Han Jingman—who hadn’t slept well the night before—felt a dull ache in her temples from the noise. She had originally planned to return with Wei Zhen tonight, but after changing her ticket yesterday, she received notice shortly after landing that a seminar would be held today. Looking around, she noticed many people hadn’t made it back in time; even Fred was absent.

Han Jingman held a small plate, taking small bites of a biscuit and sips of a hot Americano. The bitterness of the coffee neutralized most of the sweetness in her mouth.

She had never been fond of sweets, and the desserts here felt as if a sugar jar had been intentionally overturned during the baking process—every bite was unsettlingly sugary. Ling Yu, on the other hand, had loved chocolate and all kinds of candy since childhood, and that hadn’t changed as an adult. She could list the signature desserts of various brands as if they were family treasures. Yet, despite loving sugar so much, she didn’t have a single cavity; every tooth was clean, revealing a bright, neat row when she smiled.

The seminar process was simple and efficient. Those interested in each other’s research made appointments for further in-depth discussions.

When Han Jingman left the meeting hall, she still had a distance to walk to the indoor parking lot, passing several Portuguese-style buildings and a fountain square along the way. She was wearing comfortable flat shoes today. There were still many areas with fallen leaves and standing water on the road, so she carefully tried to avoid them.

At a certain corner, she slipped and lost her balance. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a figure flashing past behind her. She stood up straight and looked around, but no one was there. She dismissed it as her imagination.

The indoor parking lot was quite far from the main teaching buildings; generally, only graduate students and above chose to park there for convenience when working in the lab buildings. With most other lots temporarily closed, the usually quiet indoor lot was mostly full today.

Han Jingman had just found her car and pressed the unlock button when a tall figure lunged out from behind and called her name.

“Dr. Han.”

Han Jingman turned around without guard. Standing before her was a burly African-American young man, staring at her while panting heavily. Han Jingman had a faint impression of him—perhaps a student she had taught—but she couldn’t remember exactly who he was. She spoke apologetically:

“I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with?”

The young man stared at her intently, then impatiently scratched his dreadlocks. “I’m Miguel. I took your class last semester.”

Miguel. Han Jingman remembered now.

Last semester, she had taught a theoretical course on genetics aimed at undergraduates. In principle, it wasn’t a difficult course. As long as attendance was decent and students reviewed the key points mentioned in class and the quizzes, they could generally pass the final with ease.

Han Jingman wasn’t a “mean” lecturer; her responsibility was to teach and resolve doubts, not to use grades as a harsh weapon. Therefore, for anyone who met the minimum attendance and performed reasonably well on the exam, she would let them pass. But this Miguel… his attendance was nearly zero, his final exam was a disaster, and he hadn’t even earned any extra bonus points. Han Jingman had failed him directly. He was the only person who didn’t pass the course, so she certainly had an impression of him.

“Miguel, right? I remember you. You took Genetics last semester.”

Seeing that she remembered him, Miguel got straight to the point of why he had cornered her. “I failed that class. I sent you an email asking you to change it to a pass, but you refused. I think we need to talk face-to-face.”

She had heard of professors being pressured by students to change grades, but such unreasonable behavior usually resulted in the student being reported and warned. But with it happening to her today, Han Jingman felt nervous; her opponent was a tall, powerful Alpha.

The parking lot was empty except for the two of them. Han Jingman tensed up, her grip tightening on her handbag.

“Miguel, regarding your grade, I listed the reasons in detail in my email. I believe you saw them yourself. Furthermore, the grades have already been uploaded. It is impossible for me to change them.”

Despite the Alpha’s hostile expression, Han Jingman maintained the professional attitude of a teacher.

“I don’t care! You have to change it!” Miguel suddenly raised his volume. His aggressive aura startled Han Jingman into taking a step back.

As Miguel continued to close in, Han Jingman’s sharp senses picked up a hint of alcohol. She looked in surprise at the staggering Miguel. The law here forbade drinking under the age of 21, and Miguel was clearly underage.

Observing closely, she could see his footsteps were erratic. She hadn’t noticed before that his eyes were blurred, yet filled with suppressed anger and impulse.

When a delicate Omega is stopped by a cognitively impaired Alpha, the worst-case scenario is easy to imagine.

Han Jingman was like a bird startled by the mere twang of a bow. She clutched her handbag to her chest, backing away step by step, her hand slowly feeling for the car door handle.

Having seen through her small movement, Miguel roared in anger, “What do you think you’re doing?” He lunged forward, slammed the half-open door shut, and threw a punch that struck the window right by Han Jingman’s ear.

Han Jingman still tried to persuade the irrational Miguel to stay calm. “Miguel, this course really isn’t hard. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can come to my office hours and I can help you. Believe me, you can pass it.”

Han Jingman’s face had turned deathly pale. As Miguel drew closer, the smell of alcohol became even more pungent, making her eyes sting.

Blinded by rage, Miguel didn’t care what she was saying. A roaring beast was suppressed in his heart. He narrowed his eyes at the nearby Han Jingman. She was an Omega—stunning, with an alluring aura that made one want to take a bite. Miguel licked his lips. Just as he was about to move his head closer, Han Jingman pushed the drunkard away with all her might. She pulled out her phone and threatened him with a trembling voice:

“Leave now, or I’m calling the police!”

It was clear Han Jingman was at the end of her rope; her entire body was shaking, and her voice carried a tremor. Save me.

Miguel didn’t care about her actions at all. In his eyes, she was just a helpless prey.

With eyes red with fury, Miguel grunted as he stepped toward her. Just as he reached out to grab the arm of the despairing Han Jingman, a lean figure rushed over and landed a punch squarely on his jaw.

Miguel groaned in pain, his balance shifting as he fell backward. Ling Yu immediately pounced on him, and the two were instantly locked in a brawl.