It was clear that the student organizers had put a lot of effort into this show, borrowing ideas from various fashion weeks. While the outfits were undeniably bizarre, they managed to maintain a semblance of design. With well-chosen models, the overall effect was passable, if not stellar.
Liang Yan watched the people on stage with a complex expression, finding it impossible to reconcile the flamboyant figure before him with the imposing warlord from earlier.
This guy wasn’t just walking the runway—he was actively engaging with the audience.
“Qiuqiu! Look this way!”
“He’s not just versatile; he’s limitlessly versatile!”
“Ahhhh! Xiao Qiu looked at me!”
“In this moment, I feel like even recycled materials are worth a fortune on him!”
The models finished their first round and regrouped to circle the audience seating once more. Fans reached out like they were at a handshake event, enthusiastically cheering for Ji Qiu. Ji Qiu, ever obliging, waved continuously—and even blew kisses at the crowd.
Liang Yan frowned so hard it felt like his brows might knot. He began questioning the point of his being here at all.
Even if you’re pretending to be an Omega, you don’t have to go this overboard.
As Ji Qiu approached Liang Yan’s section, the volume of the crowd behind him multiplied tenfold.
“Qiuqiu! Qiuqiu!!!”
“Xiao Qiu, look at your big brother!”
“Ahhh, he’s coming over!”
Liang Yan told himself he really didn’t care about this overly dramatic Alpha from the southwest. But despite himself, he still looked up as Ji Qiu walked toward him.
Ji Qiu’s signature smile played at his lips, wearing his peculiar outfit and taking measured steps.
Liang Yan felt a strange dissonance. That smile was one he knew well, yet after learning Ji Qiu’s true identity and recalling Lai Qiutong’s earlier words, it now seemed unfamiliar.
The fans behind Liang Yan continued to shout in excitement, their enthusiasm resembling a talent show finale.
Ji Qiu slowed his pace, waving toward Liang Yan’s direction.
His smile was as simple and pure as autumn sunlight spilling through a window, warm and unpretentious.
As if bewitched, the usually indifferent Liang Yan found himself raising his hand toward Ji Qiu.
Ji Qiu’s smile deepened, his eyes curving like crescents. Amidst the screams and shouts from Alphas and Betas alike, Ji Qiu reached out and lightly clasped Liang Yan’s hand before letting go.
The motion was fluid, as though Ji Qiu was merely responding to Liang Yan’s support.
Ji Qiu’s hand was warm, and the lingering heat stayed with Liang Yan for a long time.
By the time Ji Qiu had returned backstage and Liang Yan had withdrawn his hand, the scene had already drawn too much attention.
“Ahhh! Why didn’t Qiuqiu hold my hand?!”
“Come on, you think you’re Liang Yan?”
“Qiuqiu only holds hands with his bestie! Waaahhh!”
“Even though Liang Yan had no expression, I know there’s a story there!”
“Two Omegas? What story could they possibly have? Get real!”
“I’m not giving up! Still rooting for AA romance today!”
…
The noise of the crowd seemed distant, irrelevant to Liang Yan.
After Ji Qiu’s segment, the show continued with its final performances, but they were lackluster in comparison. The audience’s energy had already been drained earlier, leaving the last acts to finish in lukewarm silence.
The evening performance finally ended. Yin Tongguang had gone off to find someone to get photos, leaving only Liang Yan and Lai Qiutong, who was absorbed in her phone.
For some reason, Liang Yan felt a vague sense of frustration welling up within him—a nameless emotion that had no outlet.
As his thoughts calmed, he couldn’t help but replay Lai Qiutong’s earlier words in his mind.
He turned to look at her.
She sat with her head lowered, lost in thought. Her silver-gray hair fell softly to one side, framing her profile with an unexpected gentleness.
She was Ji Yang’s only Alpha.
Liang Yan didn’t know the details, but just hearing that one sentence filled him with an inexplicable sadness—for the Omega he had never met, who looked so much like Ji Qiu.
The world was inherently unfair to Omegas. An Alpha could mark multiple Omegas in their lifetime, but an Omega could only form a lifelong bond with a single Alpha.
And if something happened to that Alpha, the only option for the Omega would be to remove their gland.
As an Omega himself, Liang Yan couldn’t fully understand what an Alpha might feel. Yet, the word “only” evoked a profound sorrow he couldn’t suppress.
Perhaps they had exchanged pheromones. Or perhaps they had already completed their lifelong bond.
From that point on, their scents would become a part of each other—both the strongest armor and the gentlest tether. But if one of them were to be lost, that armor would shatter into shards, piercing the other. The once-reassuring scent would become a constant source of pain, cutting into the soul again and again.
As he thought this, Liang Yan suddenly realized that Lai Qiutong had lifted her head. Their eyes met.
“I’m sorry,” Liang Yan said softly. “About Ji Yang.”
Lai Qiutong was startled for a moment, but then she smiled. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”
Silence fell between them for a while.
Liang Yan hesitated. Since Lai Qiutong was willing to talk about Ji Yang, there was something he wanted to know.
“The last time I checked, the cause of death listed on the final record was asphyxiation…”
Lai Qiutong let out a faint scoff, as if about to say something.
But Ji Qiu’s voice suddenly interrupted.
—–
Ji Qiu didn’t return home with Liang Yan that night.
As they parted, Ji Qiu called out, “Yan Yan.”
Liang Yan glanced at him indifferently, silently asking what he wanted.
“Never mind,” Ji Qiu sighed. He seemed like he had something to say but decided against it.
Liang Yan rarely saw Ji Qiu like this.
He had many questions he wanted to ask, but Ji Qiu’s expression stopped him from voicing a single one.
“It’s nothing.” Ji Qiu blinked and smiled again. This time, the smile wasn’t as sweet as usual, but to Liang Yan, it felt more sincere. “Get some rest.”
“Good night.”
——
In the late autumn night, Ji Qiu had already changed into different clothes. His jacket was a bit thin, but he didn’t seem to mind. He carried the prop military uniform in one hand and walked slowly alongside Lai Qiutong.
“So,” Lai Qiutong finally broke the silence, “feeling guilty now? Decided against revealing your identity?”
Ji Qiu walked even slower, his head down as he watched his shadow. His lips moved slightly. “Am I… am I really despicable?”
Lai Qiutong tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and thought for a moment. “Yes. That’s why I didn’t plan to hide Ji Yang’s story. He was the dean’s son—it’s only natural for others to know.”
She paused. “What I didn’t expect… was that you’d go so far as to temporarily mark him.”
Ji Qiu fell silent for a moment and said nothing.
He had approached Liang Yan with impure motives from the start.
He only intended to maintain a superficial friendship.
He could have kept his identity hidden so perfectly that no one would ever find out.
But from the moment he saw Liang Yan exhibit the exact same adverse reaction as his brother, certain memories began to overlap with the present.
At the time, he was rushing to the eighth floor to record some data and didn’t expect to encounter Liang Yan, who had curiously wandered up.
There wasn’t enough time to avoid him. In the end, he had to grit his teeth, pretend to focus on his experiment, and act like he didn’t notice Liang Yan. Later, he planned to return Liang Yan’s inhibitor, create some minor misunderstanding, and keep the truth hidden. It wouldn’t have been too hard.
And then that day happened.
He had really just been passing by at the time. He only knew the classroom’s code because Dean Liang had mentioned it. But as soon as he reached the doorway, he was overwhelmed by the sharp scent of mint pheromones.
Ji Qiu froze, his mind blank, and instinctively stepped into the classroom.
He remembered that Liang Yan used KB inhibitors—he had seen him inject one in the restroom before.
But then, the adverse reaction…
In that moment, Ji Qiu had only one thought:
Yan Yan couldn’t keep using inhibitors.
If something went wrong again, if another accident happened…
Selfish, despicable, shameless, and unreasonable, he had taken advantage of Liang Yan’s heat, moving closer step by step… and then he bit him.
He knew full well that this would make it much easier for his identity to be exposed.
But he couldn’t just stand by as a bystander and watch another Omega, freshly relieved from the discomfort of their heat, be consumed by the suffocating symptoms all over again.
There could be no more accidents.
Ji Qiu thought about this silently.
When he returned from backstage earlier and saw Lai Qiutong discussing the incident with Liang Yan, he had the urge to say something.
Especially to warn Liang Yan not to use KB inhibitors.
But how could he say something like that?
He had no right to say it, nor could he shamelessly voice his thoughts like some kind of scoundrel.
Liang Yan had only been in college for a year and hadn’t gone through many heats since his differentiation. In the biological struggle between a temporary mark and inhibitors, no matter how strong or stubborn Liang Yan was, he would still have to compromise.
Sure, some Omegas could endure it. But how many could truly withstand the days of being unable to eat, surviving only on water or nutrient supplements?
No matter how he looked at it, Ji Qiu couldn’t find the best solution.
“I didn’t say much,” Lai Qiutong began. “Just mentioned Ji Yang briefly. Don’t worry.”
Ji Qiu nodded. “Alright.”
“However…” Ji Qiu hesitated before continuing, “I can talk to Yan Yan about my brother myself.”
Letting you bring it up would only reopen old wounds.
Lai Qiutong seemed to know what he was implying and dismissed it casually. “It’s fine.”
“I’m just afraid that if I don’t mention it more often, he’ll truly have nothing left,” she said with a bitter smile, noting the fading trace of his pheromones within her.
For the next few days, Liang Yan didn’t see Ji Qiu at all.
Yin Tongguang occasionally asked about Lai Qiutong, given that she was his idol.
Liang Yan would simply respond indifferently with, “S Class has been busy with a lot of lessons lately,” and brush it off, leaving Yin Tongguang to grumble to himself.
Since that day, Ji Qiu occasionally sent Liang Yan casual messages on WeChat. They were always about small, trivial matters. Liang Yan would reply if he saw them, and Ji Qiu never pressed further. Their interactions felt natural.
If there was any change, it was that rumors about him and Ji Qiu began circulating around the school.
At first, Liang Yan didn’t pay much attention to them. But one day, in the class group chat, he noticed a Beta girl’s profile picture. It was a photo from the evening party, showing him and Ji Qiu clasping hands and exchanging smiles.
That struck him as odd.
Not because of the over-the-top decorative frame surrounding the photo, nor because the overuse of photo-editing software had made his face look unnatural, but because of the caption:
#Our school’s first potential OO couple! Everyone is crying while trying to process it.#
“…”
Liang Yan frowned and screenshot the picture, sending it to Yin Tongguang.
Yin Tongguang, ever the gossip king, glanced at it and commented nonchalantly, “Oh, this? There’s always a handful of people at school obsessed with matchmaking, even shipping the weirdest pairings.”
Liang Yan was puzzled. “Weird pairings?”
“You know, the rare kinds—like OO couples or AA couples, stuff like that.”
Worried Liang Yan might overthink it, Yin Tongguang quickly added, “Of course, I’m not into that sort of thing. I know there’s nothing going on between you and Ji Qiu. Still, it’s odd how people keep saying you two are a good match. I mean, Ji Qiu is clearly a delicate, soft Omega. What are they even thinking?”
Liang Yan froze at that description, his expression unusually unsettled. “…I have no idea.”
What he understood even less was how he felt about being shipped with Ji Qiu.
Not only was he not angry, but he was also genuinely curious about how people could even imagine the two of them that way.
As he pondered this, his phone vibrated. Seeing the caller ID, his expression stiffened. He stepped outside to a quiet spot before answering.
“Hello.”
“Hello, is this Mr. Liang?” The voice on the other end was polite, professional, and sounded well-practiced. “This is KB Pharmaceuticals. I see you contacted us a few days ago to inquire about the clinical research and trials for our 3.0 inhibitor, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Based on the personal information you submitted on our website, we’ve completed the verification process. KB is currently recruiting Omega volunteers for the 3.0 inhibitor trials, which you likely saw when filling out the form.”
“Mm,” Liang Yan responded coolly.
“Here’s the deal: our company offers many benefits for Omegas who voluntarily participate in this clinical trial. First, of course, we cover all your expenses. Naturally, the experimental and control groups are assigned randomly. During the initial phase, we provide Omega participants with three to six doses of inhibitors for their heat cycles. After feedback on the effects and data collection, regardless of efficacy, KB will, as a gesture of gratitude, offer free lifetime inhibitors to the participants after the sixth trial…”
Liang Yan frowned as he listened to the overly detailed explanation and interrupted, “Are there any risks?”
The representative, clearly accustomed to such questions, replied smoothly, “No, Mr. Liang. KB’s inhibitors have always been the best among all manufacturers, as you’re aware…”
“But I heard that there was an Omega who experienced a severe adverse reaction after an injection, leading to…”
Before he could finish, the person on the other end cut him off and continued with practiced fluency, “Our company’s management has already addressed this incident. That patient’s asphyxiation death was caused by their own underlying condition. Out of humanitarian concern, the company provided a compensation payment…”
What the representative said after that, Liang Yan couldn’t quite recall.
As he hung up the phone, the words Ji Qiu had spoken after the evening event echoed in his ears.
“He did suffocate,” Ji Qiu’s voice had been soft, like a feather brushing past Liang Yan’s ear. “The injury to his spinal cord was severe—severed completely below the second cervical vertebra. His mind was perfectly conscious, but he simply couldn’t breathe.
No one knows what went through his mind in those final moments because he…”
“He watched himself suffocate to death.”
[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]
