The history of an obscure scholarly family from Qingling County was hazy, but the history of this era was crystal clear.
The differentiation of the three ABO genders originated from a mad scientist’s attempt to save the world.
On the eve of the ABO era, during the late Federation period, the desire to procreate had plummeted due to a confluence of economic, cultural, and political factors. Many people preferred to indulge in virtual reality worlds rather than face the miserable reality of being supported by the government.
Not having to work was a good thing, but only if the time previously occupied by work could be freed up for things one enjoyed.
The problem was that, due to long-standing social barriers and cultural stagnation, the people of the Federation era could no longer find anything to be passionate about. Moreover, societal resources were firmly controlled by the great capitalists and an autocratic government, and every aspect of people’s freedom was subject to absurd restrictions. To what extent was it absurd?
Uniform hairstyles, clothing, and diets.
Thus, people could only seek the solace of freedom in the virtual world.
And those who remained in the real world were not all heterosexual. Homosexuals, asexuals, and transgender relationships accounted for a significant portion of the population. But the government and the capitalists cared little for the birth rate. They arrogantly believed that, aside from their own genes, there was no great need for anyone else to reproduce. After all, all work was done by artificial intelligence. In the eyes of those at the top of the pyramid, spending resources to support useless humans was already fulfilling the Federation Constitution’s declaration that “the Federation will always need its citizens.”
But a cultural restorationist named William James could not stand by and watch. He believed that if the birth rate continued to decline at this rate, humanity would sooner or later face extinction. The foolish upper echelons would be buried in the tomb of the era along with their beloved machines, and the new gravediggers would be AI.
To prevent this disaster, which he saw as imminent, he developed a drug.
This drug was the key to Pandora’s box for the ABO era.
The monopolistic global food industry provided William with a convenient opportunity. As the chief scientist of this corporate monopoly, he secretly added the drug to the production line. Since it was a fully AI-operated assembly line, William, who was also a programming expert, easily evaded the AI’s detection.
And so, the entire population differentiated.
In William’s original design, targeting the male-dominated upper class of the Federation, he set the ABO mutation mechanism so that those with high levels of male hormones would mutate into alphas, and those with high levels of female hormones would mutate into omegas. A portion of the population with partial resistance to the virus became betas. Betas were not much different from pre-mutation men and women, except that they could smell AO pheromones. However, AO pheromones had no effect on betas; they only induced AOs into frenzied sexual activity, an effect that would only slightly diminish after an omega became pregnant.
William believed that in a patriarchal world, such a differentiation would minimize social chaos. Before the new gender structure stabilized, the alphas, in their position of gender advantage, would use their power to nip any turmoil in the bud.
But fate has a way of playing the most ironic of jokes—his assistant, a man who psychologically identified as a woman, secretly altered the virus’s mutation settings, reversing everything.
Thus, when the mutation occurred, under the intense influence of pheromones, people emerged from their forced, warm, and isolated nutrient pods to discover, to their astonishment, that the powerful, high-ranking officials, the wealthy, and most of the military had become omegas, forced to bear the responsibility of childbirth and the physiological constraints of pheromones.
And the father of the ABO era—though calling him the mother wouldn’t be entirely wrong—William, upon discovering he had become an omega, shot himself in despair, offering the new era its first blood.
Meanwhile, out of fear for history and the future, the omegas who now held power began to restrict and confine their alpha wives, while vigorously developing technologies to combat their omega instincts—inhibitors originated from that era.
But physiological factors still played their part. After becoming alphas, people’s physical strength and stamina increased dramatically, and they also held the dominant position in pheromonal entanglements. When forced into heat, upper-class omegas had no chance to activate their AI guards, while lower-class omegas could only kneel pitifully at the feet of alphas, begging to be marked.
Under the dual pressures of their nature and their predicament, alphas inevitably began to seek power, while the small clique of omegas who had barricaded themselves in steel castles desperately suppressed the alpha resistance.
This was the Activation War of the ABO era.
In the crucible of war, because only AOs had a high probability of producing AO offspring, the populations of both AO genders plummeted. Betas gradually became the majority. Seeing that betas were on the verge of following the alphas’ example and seizing power, the two AO genders were forced to make peace—after all, betas could live without them, but alphas and omegas were naturally dependent on each other.
Thus, after the Activation War, the Federation became the Empire. The alpha leader, Hall, became the ruler of the Empire, and she decreed that both AOs had the right of succession. After several generations of procreation, the male-female ratio within the AO genders evened out. The primitive war between men and women came to a close, and a new battlefield emerged: gender competition dominated by the three ABO types.
After learning all this, Yun Chuji’s gaze remained unfocused for a long time.
“So this is history?” she murmured.
Yun Chuji raised her right hand, looking at the strangely shaped metal object with unprecedented solemnity. This was the key to the gates of knowledge.
She rose with great gravity, went to the bathroom for a particularly meticulous bath, found a bottle of the original owner’s perfume, and sprayed it all over herself. Then, she sat cross-legged on the sofa and, mimicking the tone her father used during ancestral worship, said, “Search for resources on the Four Books and Five Classics.”
“Apologies, access denied.”
“What about all of ancient history?”
“The following results have been found for you: Eight Hundred Years of the Federation, The Federation’s Loss, Who Can Save the Federation…”
“No, I want ancient history from before the Great Liang Dynasty.”
“Apologies, access denied.”
“What about Jin Ping Mei, Water Margin, or The Story of Yingying?”
“Apologies, access denied.”
“…”
Not a single book from the list she had secretly seen from her brother was available. Yun Chuji couldn’t help but look at the optical computer with disdain. To think she had even bathed and burned incense for this.
As if sensing its master’s dissatisfaction, the optical computer, model number H77584, offered an explanation: “Original documents from before the modern era are too disconnected from current times and are now stored in libraries for study by professional scholars only. To prevent database clutter, related electronic information has been deleted from optical computers.”
The implication was that it wasn’t useless; it was that the things Yun Chuji wanted to see were simply anachronistic.
So, that raised a question.
If she wanted to read the books she was looking for, it seemed she would have to go outside.
Yun Chuji looked at the front door. It was a sleek black, in line with the somber yet refined aesthetic of this era. Pushing open that door meant entering a new world she had just barely managed to escape. In this world, cars could fly. In this world, there were no horses. In this world, men could give birth.
In this world, women could also read the Four Books and Five Classics.
Yun Chuji was nearly going mad from the conflict, but at that moment, a doorbell chimed, interrupting her turmoil.
Through the optical computer, Yun Chuji could see an impatient-looking Tang Jianxi standing outside.
Well, no need to struggle anymore.
There was no point. I’m about to die.
Yun Chuji straightened her clothes and stood by the door to welcome Tang Jianxi in.
But the first thing Tang Jianxi said shattered her resolve to face death: “You’re in luck. You’ve got another year to live.”
This was not only unexpected for Yun Chuji; Tang Jianxi hadn’t anticipated it at all either.
In fact, besides the highest echelons of the Empire, no one could have predicted it.
Just a week ago, the Empire had quietly passed a law stipulating that any AO who undergoes a permanent marking must wait one year before being allowed to have the mark removed.
Tang Jianxi had found out about it last night.
As an omega who considered her career her second life, Tang Jianxi had endured all sorts of withdrawal symptoms after interrupting her heat. Relying on inhibitors to stay lucid, she had finished processing the work that had piled up over the past few days before starting to arrange for the mark removal.
And that was when she was met with this surprise.
Tang Jianxi found it unbelievable. “Such an irresponsible law, and the Omega Protection Association isn’t doing anything about it?”
“The Empire agreed to increase their funding next year and to build three thousand elementary schools for omegas in underdeveloped regions.”
“…”
It was a trade. The realization dawned on Tang Jianxi, leaving her furious yet helpless. She knew that the education rate for lower-class omegas had been declining at an alarming rate over the past twenty years. Even if she were the association’s president, she couldn’t guarantee she would have refused the deal.
It really has gotten so bad that we have to rob Peter to pay Paul.
Xie Xiaoxiao sat across from her, her face a mask of worry, sighing. “The Empire will stop at nothing to raise the birth rate.”
“Is it really just about the birth rate?” Tang Jianxi sneered. “I think it’s so they can assign a wife to every alpha.”
Xie Xiaoxiao agreed with a pained expression. Her eyes swept over the still-healing nape of Tang Jianxi’s neck, and she threw up her hands. “So what now? If you don’t get the mark removed, your body will break down over the next year of heats without your alpha’s pheromones. You’re already on the strongest inhibitors as it is.”
“I recall you’re a doctor of medicine?” Tang Jianxi pinned her hopes on her best friend.
Xie Xiaoxiao quickly waved her hands. She was a petite omega, and the gesture made her look like an enchanted doll—if her hair wasn’t so messy and her glasses weren’t so thick.
“I can’t do it! I’m in research, not clinical practice, and our fields don’t even overlap!”
“It’s just a small surgery, isn’t it?” Tang Jianxi deliberately provoked her. “You call yourself the smartest medical doctor in history, destined to leave behind a miracle drug named after you.”
Xie Xiaoxiao rolled her eyes. “Do you have any idea how complex the gland is? It’s practically its own system, separate from the rest of the body. I said I can’t, and I mean it. I’m afraid I’d just be sending you to your grave.”
“Then do you know anyone else who can do the surgery?”
“I do, but, you know, the Empire is always very strict about this. I can’t guarantee they’d agree.”
“I’ll pay them.”
“The kind of people who can do this surgery aren’t short on money!”
It seemed they had reached a dead end. Tang Jianxi knew there were underground clinics that could perform mark removal surgeries, but that was basically gambling with your life. Tang Jianxi couldn’t afford to take that gamble. Her life was valuable.
To even place it on a gambling table would be a defilement.
It was a tangled mess. Xie Xiaoxiao couldn’t help but run her hands through her already disheveled hair, making it even messier. “You’re the second young lady of the Tang family! Can’t you pull some strings?”
Tang Jianxi shook her head regretfully. “No, my dad would definitely find out. You know my family’s situation. Once he knows, he might force me to marry that alpha.”
It was common knowledge that the Tang family had only two omegas. What wasn’t common knowledge was that one of those two was in an especially rare OO relationship—Tang Jianxi’s older brother, Tang Jianshen. Tang Jianshen had confessed this to their alpha mother, Tang Ji, before joining the company. Only after receiving her assurance that it wouldn’t affect his right of inheritance did he join the group and begin his series of business miracles.
Although Tang Jianxi’s own talents were not to be scoffed at, and in any other family she would have earned the title of a promising successor, she had the misfortune of being born a few years later and lacking Tang Jianshen’s aura, which was even colder and more rigid than a computer’s. In the competition for inheritance, she could barely hold her own.
That was why she had come up with such an unorthodox plan: find a fake alpha lover to win over the shareholders who had grumbled about Tang Jianshen being unmarried at his age, and curry favor with her mom at the same time.
After all, her mother, despite claiming not to care about her child’s OO relationship, was now secretly downloading all sorts of dating apps, presumably in preparation for Tang Jianxi, the Tang family’s only hope.
The plan was supposed to kill two birds with one stone, but for all her calculations, she never expected the original Yun Chuji to be such a good actor.
And she had allowed the transmigrated Miss Yun to pluck a peach she had absolutely no desire to eat.
So, as mentioned above, if Ms. Tang Ji, who was silently hoping for a house full of grandchildren, found out her child had been permanently marked by an alpha, would she agree to let Tang Jianxi have it removed?
Tang Jianxi couldn’t be sure.
Just as she didn’t dare ask Tang Ji if she planned to arrange a marriage for her in the future.
So, she could only pick up the original script again.
While Xie Xiaoxiao couldn’t perform the surgery to remove a permanent mark, she could get her hands on a drug to conceal it.
And so, Tang Jianxi appeared before Yun Chuji.
