Yin Tongguang rarely got the chance to hang out with his Beta buddies for a whole day, and Liang Yan covered for him, allowing him to sneak out before class was even over.
Meanwhile, Liang Yan tossed his gloves into the medical waste bin, completely ignoring the voice calling him from behind. He even regretted not genuinely stitching a burial shroud for someone during class.
Of course, avoiding Ji Qiu wasn’t solely due to his inability to tolerate the guy’s strange antics. Another reason was that Liang Yan couldn’t quite process the new information he had just received.
Ji Yang had to be connected to Ji Qiu somehow. But who was he?
Could Ji Qiu’s involvement with KB and its secrets stem from this?
Liang Yan’s mind was flooded with mysteries, yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
After a while, the boisterous atmosphere died down. Although most people were still laughing, Lai Qiutong narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing something was off. However, she didn’t say anything further, only teasing the group before dismissing the topic:
“Alright, I’m heading out.”
As she left, the group followed her, trying to coax her back, when the class monitor from A Class approached Liang Yan.
“Liang Yan, can I have a word?”
Liang Yan turned around, puzzled.
“Here’s the thing,” the monitor began, “the school’s year-end performance is coming up, and they’ve asked our classes to put together a few programs. Since our A Class is close with S Class, we’re doing one performance individually and another as a joint effort. Do you think you might…”
Before he could finish saying “be interested,” Liang Yan shook his head decisively: “No time.”
The class monitor had anticipated this response. Despite Liang Yan’s recent camaraderie with S Class, he hadn’t grown any more approachable. Yet, the monitor wasn’t ready to give up and continued to pitch:
“How about you take a look at the programs we’re preparing? Maybe one will catch your interest.”
After all, Liang Yan’s involvement would be a huge boost to A Class’s image. Even a cameo could draw in a crowd of Alphas. The monitor eagerly calculated in his mind.
Just as Liang Yan was about to refuse again, Ji Qiu chimed in:
“Yan Yan, Yan Yan! The year-end performance, right? I’m in! I’m actually participating in two programs!”
The class monitor, delighted to find an unexpected ally, quickly nodded in agreement:
“Yes, exactly! Ji Qiu is going, and you two are close. Maybe you could perform together…”
Liang Yan’s expression softened slightly. “What kind of programs?”
The monitor was overjoyed. Was Liang Yan actually considering it? He was about to unleash his full persuasion skills when Ji Qiu once again butted in enthusiastically:
“I know this one! The programs are super interesting this year. I’m in two—a stage play and a runway show!”
“What’s the theme?” Liang Yan pressed.
The monitor grew even more hopeful. Could A Class’s pride really be about to join? He silently thanked Ji Qiu for his help.
Ji Qiu, oblivious, eagerly explained:
“The stage play is set in a historical era. Guess what? I’m playing the ultimate villain—a bandit who kidnaps poor Omegas to make them his bride. I’m so excited! It’s such a fun role to play!”
Liang Yan, envisioning Ji Qiu as a cigar-smoking, ferocious bandit: “…”
The class monitor, cringing internally: “…”
Why did you have to overshare like that?
Ji Qiu, oblivious to the class monitor’s dilemma, kept chatting excitedly:
“As for the other one, it’s super interesting! It’s a runway show themed around environmental protection and recyclable waste!”
The class monitor’s eyebrow twitched. He wanted to rush over and clamp a hand over Ji Qiu’s mouth, but it was already too late.
Ji Qiu finished rattling off the details enthusiastically:
“It’s a new kind of runway show where we repurpose recyclable trash into clothing! How about it, Yan Yan? Want to join in?”
Liang Yan’s previously softening expression instantly cooled again.
“Not interested.”
How had he even entertained the idea of participating for a split second?
The class monitor sighed inwardly and tactfully stepped away, leaving Liang Yan alone.
Meanwhile, Ji Qiu kept trying to persuade him:
“It’s seriously so fun! I’ll even pick the best-looking trash for you to wear so you can steal the show at the performance—Ow!”
Having finally lost his patience, Liang Yan stomped on Ji Qiu’s foot. His usual cold expression cracked, replaced by visible irritation.
“Shut up!”
Why was he feeling so irritable lately?
As Liang Yan reflected on his sudden short temper, he applied more pressure with his foot until Ji Qiu let out a pitiful gasp.
Fine, if being irritable was the only way to relieve his frustration, so be it.
Liang Yan thought this with a blank expression as he decided, once again, that he should have stitched a burial shroud for someone that day.
——
The days that followed were relatively uneventful. With the year-end performance approaching, everyone around Liang Yan became busier. Even Yin Tongguang landed a small role in a stage play and was enthusiastically preparing, often sharing rehearsal stories with Liang Yan when they returned to the dorm.
One day, Yin Tongguang mentioned Ji Qiu:
“Yan Yan! Today I saw Ji Qiu’s costume for his villain role. It actually looks pretty good. I wonder how it’ll look on him.”
Liang Yan recalled Ji Qiu’s earlier description of his role as a villainous bandit who kidnaps Omegas to make them his bride. He couldn’t help but imagine Ji Qiu dressed in a leopard-print coat, covered in tattoos, or wearing an open-chested fur jacket that screamed tacky.
…None of those options seemed remotely plausible.
There was no way he was going to subject his eyes to such an atrocity, Liang Yan decided.
—–
Five days later.
Liang Yan sat in a “prime viewing spot” that Ji Qiu had reserved specifically for him, lost in thought.
Why was he here, despite having explicitly refused to attend earlier?
It must have been because of Lai Qiutong’s message.
Lai Qiutong truly was a thoughtful person. She understood Liang Yan’s dislike for social interactions and never bothered him unnecessarily. Yet, she stayed in touch, striking a perfect balance—asking if he needed her to bring anything when they had joint classes or if Yin Tongguang could save her and Ji Qiu seats during large lectures.
She was polite, easygoing, and always respectful of boundaries—just like when she first stepped in to help him.
Last night, just as Liang Yan was about to sleep, he had received a message from Lai Qiutong:
[Lai Qiutong: Ji Qiu said he reserved three tickets for tomorrow’s school performance. The seats are quite good. Want to join us?]
The performance, being a formal event, required tickets for entry due to the large number of participating departments and classes.
Initially, Liang Yan had hesitated, considering a polite refusal. But then he overheard Yin Tongguang in the neighboring bunk trying to secure better tickets from others. After some thought, he agreed—figuring he could just tag along casually with his roommate.
Although he still wasn’t a fan of noisy events, he admitted that some performances were decent. However, the incessant chatter around him made him irritable.
Yin Tongguang and Lai Qiutong, on the other hand, were thoroughly enjoying themselves, laughing and chatting with an almost telepathic sense of humor.
At least it wasn’t a complete waste of time, Liang Yan thought.
Losing interest in the song and dance on stage, Liang Yan pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the news.
After a while, Yin Tongguang patted Liang Yan on the shoulder.
“Yan Yan, my segment is coming up. I need to go backstage and get ready. Even as a background extra, I have to take it seriously, right?”
Lai Qiutong chuckled.
“Got it. I’ll make sure to look for you on stage.”
Liang Yan nodded.
“Go on.”
Yin Tongguang hurried backstage, leaving Liang Yan to continue scrolling through his phone as the sounds of singing and conversation filled the air.
But before long, he noticed the crowd becoming restless.
Behind him, the “Ji Qiu Fan Club” suddenly erupted into a frenzy.
It seemed the stage play had begun.
“OMG!!! OMG!!!”
“Qiu Qiu is here! Qiu Qiu is here!”
“Ji Qiu, look this way—”
“I’m dead! Someone give me CPR!”
“Ahhhh, Xiao Qiu looks so commanding!!! I can’t take it anymore!”
“Qiu Qiu Daddy, yes!!!”
“Mommy too!!!”
“I’ll never call him a soft little Omega again! He’s clearly a versatile queen!!”
“Versatile queen! Versatile queen!!!”
…Where did this Alpha pretending to be an Omega get so many crazed fans?
Liang Yan would never understand.
At the words “versatile queen,” his lips twitched involuntarily. Despite himself, he raised his head and looked toward the stage, searching for that familiar figure.
It didn’t take long for the spotlight to find him.
Not leopard print, fur coats, or red sashes. No headscarves, tattoos, or rugged vests, either.
Liang Yan stared at the figure on stage, momentarily stunned.
A whip. Military boots. A disciplinary buckle.
Ji Qiu was clad in a black Republican-era military uniform. The tailored outfit was perfectly fitted, every line seemingly custom-made for him. The brim of his military cap caught the stage lighting, casting just the right amount of shadow across his face, obscuring his expression. His nose bridge and lips were sculpted flawlessly, half veiled in the stage’s shadows, the other half bathed in breathtaking light.
It appeared his role was that of a warlord, a solitary power in a tumultuous era—one who wielded authority at his fingertips, capable of turning the tides with a single gesture. Though the common people suffered under his rule, countless elites still bowed before him, desperate for his favor.
His personality was unpredictable—tyrannical, brooding, yet laced with an irresistible air of mystery.
Ji Qiu held a whip in one hand, casually tapping it against his palm. It was a small, almost insignificant gesture, yet it exuded an undeniable aura of superiority and a haughty disdain for the world beneath him.
With deliberate precision, he adjusted the disciplinary buckle on his collar. The defined joints of his fingers and the faintly prominent curve of his Adam’s apple, all tightly encased in the military uniform, sparked endless imagination.
Ji Qiu turned slightly, curling his lips into a disdainful smirk as he cast a mocking glance toward the audience below.
That single look was enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine.
[mfn]If you enjoy my translations, feel free to support me by leaving a comment below or sending me a Ko-fi. Thank you, and happy reading! -TL: Ysiad ❤️[/mfn]
