Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Don't we all have those moments?

Like forgetting your umbrella on a cloudy day, mistaking sleeping pills for vitamins, bubbling in the wrong answer on an exam, or seeing something you just read in a book play out in real life.

The omega’s pheromones in the air were so potent that Ji Qingyu felt a wave of discomfort. He had presented late and was less affected by pheromones, unlike top alphas such as Fu Han, who were acutely sensitive to them.

Ji Qingyu watched Fu Han cover his head, trying to distance himself from the omega, but she clung to him relentlessly. Fu Han struggled to pull her off, his eyes reddening with strain.

So Ji Qingyu rushed over and shoved the omega away. The girl thrashed like a madwoman.

Ji Qingyu could barely restrain her; she raked several bloody scratches across his arm. To make matters worse, the oppressive pheromones radiating from Fu Han made it increasingly difficult for Ji Qingyu to hold on.

Gritting his teeth, he struck the back of the girl’s neck, and she collapsed, unconscious, into his arms.

Ji Qingyu was drenched in sweat, his arms stinging and swollen from the scratches, panting heavily from the struggle.

Before he could catch his breath, a warm current of air brushed against the back of his neck. Ji Qingyu’s mind was still hazy; his sluggish, addled senses tricked him, and he failed to react in time. A hand gripped his neck and yanked him backward.

A sharp, piercing ache shot through the back of his neck.

A murky heat, laced with raw, unfamiliar desire, enveloped Ji Qingyu, pulling him under like a tidal wave.

Fangs pierced his skin. Ji Qingyu’s whole body went numb. He tried with all his might to pry Fu Han’s hand away, but he couldn’t break free.

Alphas in heat were all madmen, driven only to inject more of their pheromones into an omega’s gland, fiercely craving to claim more territory. And under natural gender suppression, omegas always seemed so powerless.

The process of pheromone injection felt like a prolonged, humiliating torture. Ji Qingyu’s body ached unbearably; small gasps escaped his throat, his vision blurred, but he lacked the strength to break away.

“Let go, Fu Han, are you crazy? You… let… let me go!” He struggled desperately, but it was useless.

Fu Han paused, sensing Ji Qingyu’s resistance, and grew more agitated. He bit down harder, the hand pressed against Ji Qingyu’s abdomen burning intensely.

It lasted long enough for tears to soak Fu Han’s hand, still gripping Ji Qingyu’s neck.

When Fu Han finally released his bite, Ji Qingyu’s legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.

His knees throbbed, every inch of his body tingled with numbness and itchiness. Even his voice trembled when he breathed. Ji Qingyu stared at the ground, sweat and tears mingling together.

The back of his neck burned as if on fire. Ji Qingyu broke out in a cold sweat, the sticky sensation making him extremely uncomfortable.

Before he could run, Fu Han abruptly hauled him up and crushed him against his chest, as if he were a giant doll. The force made Ji Qingyu’s dazed eyes snap into focus. He begged Fu Han through tears to let him go.

Fu Han briefly withdrew his fangs and licked Ji Qingyu’s wound like an animal, as if to comfort him, his voice hoarse as he murmured, “It’s okay, it won’t hurt much.”

But the next second, he bit down again without mercy.

“Ah!” Ji Qingyu was completely drained. He curled up against Fu Han’s body, surrendering to his fate, gasping for breath. His body trembled intermittently, tears flowing unconsciously.

After what felt like an eternity, Fu Han gradually sobered up from the pheromone-induced haze.

Ji Qingyu stared at him with red-rimmed eyes.

Fu Han turned his face away, licking his teeth as if just realizing what he had done.

He tried to look at the back of Ji Qingyu’s neck, but before he could see clearly, Ji Qingyu’s hand struck his cheek. The slap was as light as a cat’s scratch. Fu Han raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on him.

“Fu Han, they weren’t wrong about you. You’re a bastard.” Ji Qingyu’s tears fell straight down, a sour ache spreading through his limbs. “A temporary mark takes three months to fade. Summer break is almost here, and I still have to work. You bit me… What am I supposed to do? How can I face anyone?”

Fu Han touched his cheek, wiping the blood seeping from his lip. He stared at the blood, standing silently in place.

Ji Qingyu wiped his tears, legs shaking as he hoisted the girl beside him, trying to carry her to the infirmary. But before he took two steps, the weight suddenly lightened—Fu Han had taken the girl. “I’ll handle it.”

“You should get your neck checked too,” Fu Han said calmly. “I’ll call my private doctor. Wait here; don’t go to the infirmary. There might be something off about what happened today.”

Ji Qingyu’s eyes were still red, his hair falling over his face. His hair was neither short nor long, his eyes brimming with tears. He muttered, “None of your business,” and ran off, faster than a rabbit, stirring up a small gust of wind.

“Hey!” Fu Han called after him, but Ji Qingyu didn’t look back. Head down, he hurried through the long school building, dashed into the infirmary to grab two suppressant patches, and left without a word.

Ji Qingyu didn’t even attend the afternoon sports meet. He stuck the suppressant patch on his neck, returned to the classroom to grab his backpack, and skipped school to go home.

On his way back, a neighbor greeted him, but he ignored them. His home was at the very end of the old street, with narrow walls on either side covered in greenery. It was close to the market, and the sounds of vendors hawking their goods could be heard.

As he entered the stairwell, he startled a resident orange cat. The kitten meowed twice and leaped onto the gray concrete wall, fleeing.

The exterior of the residential building was old, but the inside was tidy and clean. Fresh flowers sat in a glass vase on the coffee table, and a basin of still-rising dough rested on the kitchen counter. Ji Qingyu ignored everything, rushing straight into his bedroom and burying his head under the pillow.

Only then did he feel the sadness wash over him.

Sensory stimuli enveloped him like a tide. He reached for his backpack, pulled out the adult book, and threw it under the bed. All that talk about omegas enjoying it was a lie—he had been in agony.

Is Fu Han part dog or something…

Lin Ying returned after closing up her stall in the afternoon and was startled to see Ji Qingyu. “Why are you back so early?”

“Nothing to do,” Ji Qingyu mumbled, his voice still thick. Half an hour earlier, he had examined his neck in the mirror—the red mark on the back was glaring and frightening.

He didn’t want to look anymore. After applying a waterproof bandage, he took a quick shower, then dug out Lin Ying’s only bottle of perfume and sprayed it liberally on himself.

Ji Qingyu’s home had a semi-open balcony, just enough space for him to sit outside in a white undershirt and shorts, practicing songs with his guitar.

He was listless. The orange cat settled among the many potted plants on the balcony shelf, rubbing affectionately against Ji Qingyu.

Lin Ying brought back two fish, slapped them unconscious on the cutting board, removed the bones, minced the flesh into paste, then washed her hands, grabbed a fruit, and turned on the TV.

“Qingyu, I’ll make fish ball soup later. Also, Brother Ma asked if you’d go fruit-picking with him once summer break starts.” Lin Ying was watching a prime-time drama. “Why do you seem so down?”

“It’s nothing.” Ji Qingyu strummed a random chord, his hair falling slightly over his face. Perhaps dust had irritated his eyes—he blinked uncomfortably. “I hate alphas.”

Lin Ying finished her peach, watching Ji Qingyu’s busy back in the kitchen before turning back to the TV. “Kids grow up and keep secrets from their mom. Do you have a crush on someone? That perfume is too strong. I’m a middle-aged beta—I can’t smell pheromones. Why did you spray so much?”

The next day, Ji Qingyu went to the livehouse with heavy dark circles under his eyes. A silk scarf was wrapped around his neck, looking out of place in the summer heat.

The bar owner frowned. “Xiao Yu, what’s that smell? Since when do you wear perfume?”

“Um… just wanted to try it,” Ji Qingyu said, tuning his guitar while biting a slice of lemon to stay alert. He tilted his head, clamping the guitar between his shoulder and head, scribbling quickly with a pen.

In the drowsy twilight, a figure sat in the corner of the bar—a sharply defined face that stood out strikingly in the dim light. The person stood up and walked toward him.

Ji Qingyu looked up to see Fu Han standing with his arms crossed, an arrogant expression on his face as he stared at Ji Qingyu’s notebook. “You can write songs about things like this?”

“You… what are you doing here?” Ji Qingyu was bewildered. “How did you know I was here?”

Fu Han ignored the question, handing over a thin black card instead. His tone was sharp. “Take it. It’s not like you’re losing out.”

“Ah…” Ji Qingyu shook his head. “Take it back. I don’t want this.”

"...There's enough money in here to cover your expenses. You won't need to work part-time jobs anymore." Fu Han said, his expression full of perfunctoriness and indifference, then frowned and asked, "What’s that smell on you?"

Ji Qingyu, like a cornered rabbit, put down his guitar and threw down his notebook. Without caring who stood before him, he snapped furiously, "Fu Han, don’t think money can buy everything. I will earn money with my own hands. I don't need your charity like this! Do you think I’m like those other omegas, that you can just pay to have me? You're all just a bunch of scumbags who treat omegas like fast-moving consumer goods!"

So, he could be this intimidating too. Ji Qingyu recalled. What expression did Fu Han have at that time, again? Surprise, confusion, offended anger? Or perhaps that same blank face? He couldn’t remember clearly anymore.

His memory had many hazy spots. The repeated torment of his heats over the past six years had hit harder than he’d ever imagined. Neither his body nor his mind could ever go back to what they were at eighteen.

He spaced out briefly, then forced himself to stand, threw on his clothes, and hurried to the hospital.

He had no idea how Fu Han planned to handle the copyright issue, but he was far more worried about Lin Ying’s condition. When the doctor saw Ji Qingyu, he raised a hand to greet him.

"How could you just inject her with something without permission?" Ji Qingyu demanded, fury washing over him. "What you did is illegal."

"Mr. Ji, that was just saline solution," the doctor explained. "You objected to the injection today, and we stopped immediately. It was supposed to be a standard injection."

"With so many of you gathered around her—was that part of the standard procedure too?" Ji Qingyu pressed.

"Today was a multi-doctor consultation. Ms. Lin Ying’s condition has improved. You should have been notified about this, right?" the doctor replied. "The mass in her brain was precisely pressing on a nerve, but it’s shifted position now. If things continue this way, there’s a strong chance we can remove it surgically."

"You—you’re serious?" A long-dormant spark reignited in Ji Qingyu’s heart. He grabbed the doctor’s collar, trembling with emotion. "Is this true?"

"Yes, it’s true. Please calm down." The doctor gently pushed Ji Qingyu back. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young man—a sick mother, an omega struggling on his own… How much could one person bear?

"Ji Ran came by today about this very matter. You don’t need to worry. At the very least, you have your brother’s support—and he's a big star. Money won't be an issue." But as the doctor finished comforting him, Ji Qingyu’s face grew even paler. "He left in a rush today, as if he had something urgent to attend to. Maybe you should try reaching out to him."

Ji Qingyu stepped into a quiet corner to make the call. The hallway was empty and still. The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

Ji Ran’s voice was calm as ever. "Fu Han came to me. He wants to take back your songs. You’ve only been with him a few days, and yet—I must admit, I underestimated you."

Ji Qingyu’s voice tightened. "He brought a doctor to examine my throat. You know something like that can’t be hidden."

He expected Ji Ran to explode in anger, but instead, his brother’s reaction was deceptively mild. "This isn’t over. You know what to say and what not to say."

"Your mother’s about to have surgery. At a critical time like this, anything could happen." A door opened on Ji Ran’s end, and a man’s voice became audible.

Ji Ran’s tone softened as he responded briefly to the other person. "That’s enough. I can negotiate with him, but the harder the talks go, the more uncertain things become for your mother."

"I—I won’t let him find out. I wouldn’t dare." Ji Qingyu fell silent again. He never dared—he had too much at stake. Yet that very vulnerability was what gave him hope.

He lowered his head slightly, looking thin and isolated like a shadow detached from the world, leaning against the hospital’s glaring white wall. Fine beads of sweat dotted his temples.

The wound on the back of his neck never seemed to heal. Even though it had scabbed over, a dull, persistent ache remained.

Author's Note: