After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Met the Reborn Omega (GL) - Chapter 5

After washing the dishes, Lin Changsheng returned to the living room but didn’t see Mo Zhaoyan anywhere. Confused, she called out softly,
“Mo Zhaoyan?”

Her voice was soon met with a calm reply from the balcony,
“I’m here.”

Just an ordinary response—yet it settled the anxiety brewing in Lin Changsheng’s heart.

“Where did you go?”
Even though she knew she had no right to ask about Mo Zhaoyan’s personal matters, the words came out naturally, as if she had every right in the world to ask.

“I made a call.”
Zhaoyan answered her honestly. Lin Changsheng had never been one to ask such questions before, but Mo Zhaoyan knew—Lin Changsheng had always been deeply insecure when it came to love. Or perhaps, just lonely.

She remembered when they had just gotten married, Lin Changsheng loved to send her messages:

“I’m eating.” (Always with a picture of her food.)
“Just had lunch.”
“I’m off work.”

Each message was simple, even mundane—more like status updates than conversations. But that was how Lin Changsheng showed she cared. She wanted Mo Zhaoyan to know what she was doing every moment of the day.

And how did Mo Zhaoyan respond back then?

At first, she’d reply with a few words. Then it dwindled to just:
“Oh.”
Eventually, she stopped replying at all—just glanced at her phone and put it away.

Over time, Lin Changsheng stopped sending messages altogether.

And when she was gone, the familiar notifications never lit up her phone again. But Mo Zhaoyan still instinctively checked it during mealtimes, break times, after work—as punctual as a clock. Even though the screen never lit up again, she kept hoping. But missed people don’t come back.

So she began sending messages to the avatar that would never light up again:

“I ate. Had your favorite—braised pork.”
“The weather’s great today. Remember how you always said you wanted to go to an amusement park? You never had time. So I built one—right where you always wanted.”
“Goodnight.”

Her phone was filled with one-sided messages. As the screen dimmed again, it reflected her face—red-rimmed eyes, tired expression. Rain began falling outside, and droplets splashed onto the screen, trailing down her cheek as if tears.

Now, whenever Lin Changsheng messaged her, Mo Zhaoyan replied immediately. She didn’t even silence her phone during meetings anymore—afraid she might miss something. Back then, she had taken for granted someone who only wanted to depend on her. But love can’t survive on one person’s effort alone. It has to be mutual.

“Was the call important?”

“Not really.”

Later that evening, Lin Changsheng was sitting on the sofa while Mo Zhaoyan had gone to take a shower. She began thinking seriously about what came next. It seemed unlikely she’d return to her original timeline any time soon. And if the future changed—could she even go back at all?

Her top priority was to figure out what had happened to her. She remembered the message earlier from someone called “Z.” That person seemed to know a lot—perhaps too much. Maybe that was a good place to start. Z was definitely someone from the company.

She’d have to go back to the office soon.

Just as she was thinking this, Mo Zhaoyan came downstairs—fresh from the shower, wearing a sleek black silk nightgown that clung to her figure, the neckline dipping low in the center. Lin Changsheng had always known Zhaoyan had an impressive figure, but seeing it this up close made her flush red.

Heat surged through her body, and her eyes instinctively followed Zhaoyan’s every movement. Her pheromones began to seep out—uncontrolled and uninvited.

Mo Zhaoyan was toweling her damp hair when she suddenly caught the faint scent of oranges—a smell she knew too well. It was Lin Changsheng’s scent.

Fortunately, she had applied a fresh inhibitor patch after her shower, and as an S-class Omega, her resistance was stronger than most. Still, it was her beloved whose scent was surrounding her, enveloping her like a warm, commanding presence.

She felt something deep within her stir—an old, forgotten ache.

It had been a long time since she’d reacted this way.

The tension between them rose like kindling ready to ignite. Lin Changsheng, oblivious to her own actions, was radiating pheromones strong enough to border on harassment. The scent was invasive, intense—wrapping around Zhaoyan’s body and teasing her senses.

For the first time in ages, Mo Zhaoyan blushed. And just as the situation was about to tip over into uncontrollable territory, she stepped in—stopping the blushing idiot in front of her.

Lin Changsheng was indeed losing control. She couldn’t even smell Mo Zhaoyan’s pheromones, and yet she still felt like she was being seduced. She wanted to claim her, right then and there. But reason pushed back—urging her to stay grounded.

The atmosphere was seconds from spiraling. Zhaoyan’s heart pounded, and droplets of water slid down from her hair. Sweat? Water? She couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Lin Changsheng! Stop releasing your pheromones!”

Her voice trembled, and her knees weakened slightly. Only then did Lin Changsheng snap back to herself. She stared, dazed, at Mo Zhaoyan now slumped on the sofa, visibly unwell.

“…How do I stop?” she asked, completely lost.

She hadn’t even undergone full secondary differentiation before she’d traveled back. She had no idea how any of this worked.

Thankfully, Mo Zhaoyan recovered her composure just enough to act. She grabbed a new inhibitor patch from the table, stepped close to Lin Changsheng, and firmly pressed it to the back of her neck—right over the gland.

The moment it made contact, Lin Changsheng’s body tensed even more, overwhelmed by the nearness. But then came a cooling sensation. The heat began to subside, and the tension finally began to ease.

Mo Zhaoyan’s expression gradually returned to normal. She turned on the ventilation system to help disperse Lin Changsheng’s pheromones. Though the scent was actually pleasant to her, the concentration was dangerously high—it might even trigger her heat early.

Half-lounging on the sofa, breathing lightly, Mo Zhaoyan was still recovering. Meanwhile, Lin Changsheng no longer dared to even look at her.

But then Lin Changsheng caught a faint floral scent in the air. It was delicate, elegant, but carried a cold sharpness—like a lotus blooming on a snowy mountaintop. Though it was cold, it made her flushed body burn with heat again.

Mo Zhaoyan seemed to notice. She quickly replaced her suppression patch—even though she had only changed it recently. Normally, those patches last a full day. But Lin Changsheng had forgotten that after her memory loss, unintentionally releasing her pheromones at home. Luckily it hadn’t happened in public—otherwise, who knows what kind of scandal she might’ve stirred.

The news would’ve surely been all over Lin Changsheng’s latest “incident.” The old Lin Changsheng would never have lost control like this. Zhaoyan could hardly recall a time when she had smelled her pheromones this clearly—perhaps only during sensitivity periods.

Lin Changsheng had always disliked her own pheromones, just as she’d loathed her “inferior genes.”

That scent reminded her of what she was. If not for overwhelming emotion, she would never release it. And certainly not like this—charged with such invasive aggression. Mo Zhaoyan didn’t dislike it per se, but still… basic biology had to be respected. It was time to teach Lin Changsheng a lesson.

Thus, thirty-year-old in body, but twenty in mind, Lin Changsheng was given a crash course on ABO physiology.

“Good Alphas must never release pheromones toward Omegas in public—it’s harassment.”

“Know your sensitivity period. Use suppressants early. If it’s serious, go to the hospital.”

She learned that the stronger the Alpha’s genes, the more potent the pheromones during their sensitivity phase—powerful enough to trigger a heat in weaker Omegas. The reverse was also true.

Stronger genes also meant stronger suppression. And pheromones themselves had dual effects—either inducing heat or forcefully suppressing the other person.

Suppression worked similarly to heat triggers: the strong could suppress the weak. That trait, among others, was what made S-class individuals so rare.

One unique feature of S-classes was a “filtering” ability. Even when using suppressants or patches, they could still release pheromones—but only for suppression, not seduction. Mo Zhaoyan, despite being an Omega, had used her pheromones to shut down others—no one ever dared resist.

So the fact that a defective Alpha like Lin Changsheng could so easily affect an S-class Omega like her… was nothing short of miraculous.

Part of it could be because she’d already been marked by Lin Changsheng.

But mostly… it was love.

Love, after all, could defy genetics.

After all, in this world, there was only one Lin Changsheng.

“Did you understand all that?”

Lin Changsheng nodded obediently.
“I’ll be careful next time. Did I make you uncomfortable just now?”

Mo Zhaoyan recalled the tingling sensation from earlier, her legs instinctively tensing, her voice slightly wavering.
“I’m an S-class. You obviously couldn’t affect me.”
Then she glanced at the clock.
“It’s late. Go to bed.”

She shot Lin Changsheng a playful glare and turned to head upstairs.

Lin Changsheng wanted to ask if she could go to work tomorrow but only caught a glimpse of Mo Zhaoyan’s flustered retreating figure.

The powerful President Mo… actually running away?
She smiled to herself and got up to head to bed.

But when she reached her bedroom door, a wave of resistance welled up in her chest. That darkness… made her uneasy. She hesitated, then turned around and gently knocked on Mo Zhaoyan’s bedroom door.

Zhaoyan had just finished blow-drying her hair when she saw her standing there.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“…I…” Lin Changsheng was too embarrassed to say she was afraid of the dark.
“The lights in that room are broken. I’m… afraid of the dark.”

Mo Zhaoyan raised an eyebrow.
After what had just happened between them, this sudden declaration sounded suspicious.

“You’re afraid of the dark?”

Lin Changsheng nodded. She hadn’t been before, but now her body was reacting in fear. Even trembling slightly. The light in that room had probably been broken for a long time. How had she forced herself to live in that kind of environment before?

Seeing her genuinely uneasy, Mo Zhaoyan stepped aside.
“Come in.”

Lin Changsheng walked into the room. Just like before, it was spacious and clean, though still sparsely furnished. The only light came from the bedside lamp—dim but warm.

“Go take a shower.”

A bit awkward, Lin Changsheng stood frozen. Mo Zhaoyan opened the closet and pulled out a white nightgown—matching her own—along with a fresh set of undergarments.

“They’re new. Washed but never worn. Use them.”

Lin Changsheng accepted them shyly. Last time, she’d stayed the night out of necessity. This time… she was sleeping beside someone she loved. She felt she had to be clean. She lingered in the bathroom for a long time, and when she finally emerged, she was wrapped in the white nightgown—clearly too short for her taller frame. Her pale legs were fully exposed.

She shuffled across the floor like a sideways-walking crab, pulling at the hem of the dress in embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Mo Zhaoyan was sitting on the bed with a tablet in her hand, pretending to work—but her mind was a mess. She couldn’t concentrate at all. The moment Lin Changsheng finally climbed into bed, she reached out and turned off the main light.

Then she remembered something—and switched the bedside lamp to its lowest setting.

Lin Changsheng lay down obediently beside her, clutching the blanket with both hands.

“You’re not turning the light off?”

“Aren’t you afraid of the dark?”

“…But you’re here.”

You’re here, so I’m not afraid.

Mo Zhaoyan’s heart tightened.
“It’s okay. We’ll sleep with the light on.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”