After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 47

Chapter 47

The midday sunlight intensified the room’s scent, and the sea breeze carried the fragrance of grapes through every corner of the room.

Eyelashes tinged with heat trembled softly, each one adorned with freshly formed teardrops, and soft whispers brushed past the earlobe, leaving a trace on the light pink skin.

Sheng Jingyu faintly heard a sound echoing behind her ear.

Her unclear consciousness intermittently connected to the world, and she vaguely heard someone calling her “Teacher” from behind.

Sharp teeth were concealed by lips, yet that soft warmth still pressed against the back of her neck.

Scent sometimes served as a carrier of memory, and Sheng Jingyu knew only the person with that particular scent would address her this way.

Hot breath scorched her skin, and the loosened waistband finally gave way, revealing one of Sheng Jingyu’s eyes.

Sunlight flickered in her vision, and in her sidelong glance, she saw Lu Zhao’s face lowered at her neck.

In a certain moment, Sheng Jingyu was lucid.

She recognized this person, and her rationality sounded an alarm, warning her not to continue.

But desire was too overwhelming.

Her breathing grew heavy, each gulp of oxygen saturated with the scent of sea breeze and lychee.

Unease took root before she lost herself, fueling her desire to indulge and crave more.

Light filtered through the thin silk before her eyes, flickering, and Sheng Jingyu felt pulled into Lu Zhao’s world from that night.

Lu Zhao did not hold back, and neither did Sheng Jingyu.

The delicate face in her vision hooked Sheng Jingyu’s gaze, overlapping with certain fragments replaying in her mind.

Those slender eyelashes, like raven feathers, densely drooped to form an atmospheric darkness, stirring a desire to possess.

So Sheng Jingyu ignored the skirt hem that suddenly fell and raised her hand to hook around Lu Zhao’s neck.

She half-turned her body and silently but forcefully kissed Lu Zhao.

Sunlight cast their shadows on the window, intertwining figures in the scene, with long legs seated sideways.

The sheer裙摆 no longer provided cover, and a slender waist, held by a hand, gleamed porcelain-white under the glass’s reflection, like a meticulously painted oil painting.

The summer felt stifling, with cicadas chirping loudly.

Grape vines densely coiled around the room, swaying in the sea breeze.

No one paid attention to when the sea breeze stopped, and sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains into the room. Sheng Jingyu had already leaned against the pillow and fallen asleep.

A light blanket rested on her waist, with a few faint red marks standing out noticeably.

But that was all.

In the end, Lu Zhao did not go further.

Every second, Sheng Jingyu’s breathing was so close, scorching her earlobe, threatening to shatter her rationality completely.

Lu Zhao did not know which second she suddenly snapped awake, but abruptly, her hand, reaching forward, stopped beneath the fabric.

She was the teacher.

She was the one you revered and believed in.

Her actions halted abruptly, and as if to compensate, Lu Zhao replaced them with unrestrained kisses.

Her thoughts came in fragments, and she did not think, or perhaps did not understand, that going further versus just kissing held entirely different meanings in some respects.

When insatiable desire was muzzled, it ceased to be the primal, barbaric attraction between Alpha and Omega pheromones.

The room was quiet, with only Sheng Jingyu’s steady breathing audible.

Lu Zhao gazed at Sheng Jingyu, sleeping soundly in her arms, and recalling earlier events, she felt she had gone mad.

How could she take advantage of her teacher’s heat-induced delirium?

She was only helping her teacher through the heat, so how could she harbor more thoughts?

This had never happened before.

Even with the most provocative Omega, Lu Zhao had never lost control like this.

She was never someone with such poor self-control, and today felt too strange.

A layer of obscure guilt gradually surfaced in Lu Zhao’s eyes.

She held an ointment from the medicine box and carefully tried to part the hair at the back of Sheng Jingyu’s neck.

Earlier, Chenchen went to the supermarket for supplies and mistakenly bought many promotional AO products.

Lu Zhao looked at her helplessly and did not ask her to return them, thinking they might be useful someday.

Unexpectedly, those words came true today.

Attempting a temporary marking for the first time, Lu Zhao did not know if her force was excessive, so she retrieved the ointment.

Her slender fingers threaded through the long hair, feeling the damp heat hidden within as they moved deeper.

A thin layer of sweat clung to Lu Zhao’s fingertips, and Sheng Jingyu’s gland was exposed without defense.

Perhaps because Sheng Jingyu was an Omega, her gland appeared very small.

It resembled a freshly grown grape, tender and tiny, with a translucent green hue.

At the center of this hue was a bite mark, red and not yet scabbed, as if a bug had bitten it fiercely, strikingly vivid.

Lu Zhao’s hand, holding the cotton swab, paused.

She was that bad bug.

She carefully applied the ointment to the wound, her movements unprecedentedly meticulous.

But as she applied it, something felt off. She vaguely recalled a physiology class mentioning that Alpha and Omega glands were essentially the same, with well-developed glands being uniform in size.

So why was her teacher’s gland like this?

Lu Zhao frowned, inexplicably linking it to Sheng Jingyu’s inability to speak.

With the gland so close to the vocal cords, if the gland had issues, could it press on the vocal cords?

This was a hypothesis unanswered by the sleeping person, and Lu Zhao’s heart sank suddenly.

She took more ointment and applied it to the gland even more carefully.

“Sleep well, Teacher.”

After finishing, Lu Zhao withdrew her hand.

She carefully tidied the stray hair on Sheng Jingyu’s face, her gaze resting on her forehead.

She did not know what Sheng Jingyu dreamed of, but a small ridge formed on her otherwise smooth forehead.

Those dense eyelashes, like fans, drooped and spread out, trembling intermittently, as if trapped in a nightmare, enduring the darkness within.

This clearly contradicted what Lu Zhao had just said.

She did not want Sheng Jingyu to be caught in such a dream.

No one saw, but the sun lingered at the upper right of the window.

Lu Zhao leaned down again, carefully and boldly kissing Sheng Jingyu’s forehead.

A hot breeze from somewhere swept through the corridor, and the smell of disinfectant rose again.

Sheng Jingyu sat silently on a chair in the hospital corridor, her slender legs just touching the ground. Her eyes remained calm but also very youthful.

Not twenty-nine, but nine.

The door of the examination room opposite slowly opened under Sheng Jingyu’s gaze. She could no longer recall how many times she had come to this place, a room so clean it seemed devoid of anything frightening.

But a child who had just come out from there clung to their mother’s arms, crying hysterically.

It was not an easy examination, and Sheng Jingyu had once been like that child.

She looked pleadingly at the man beside her, but received only expressionless urging.

Once, twice.

Every time was the same.

Soon, Sheng Jingyu understood that crying was useless; tears were the most worthless thing in the world.

Her father would not abandon these examinations out of pity for her. She could only walk in quickly to end it quickly.

Seeing the doctor’s signal, Sheng Jingyu rose unhurriedly.

The glaring light gradually engulfed her slight figure, with no trace of warmth in the white glow.

Though Sheng Jingyu did not resist, restraints still bound her hands and feet.

Unavoidably, a needle thicker and longer than usual was raised by the doctor. The girl’s hair was wrapped in a sterile cap, her exposed neck without any protection.

An alcohol swab brushed over Sheng Jingyu’s unchanged neck, spreading a chilling cold evenly.

The doctor stood by Sheng Jingyu’s side, holding the syringe, saying the same words as every time before: “It’ll be over soon. After this, you can go home. Just endure a little. Your father is waiting outside.”

The person’s voice was gentle, offering every child here a hopeful expectation.

But Sheng Jingyu was unmoved by the scene described, her gray-silver eyes calm and indifferent, soberly accepting the unavoidable examination.

The needle pierced her neck, pushing through sealed skin.

Inch by inch, sharp pain assaulted Sheng Jingyu unavoidably. Her brows furrowed in pain, but tears did not fall from her eyes. Her already pale lips were bitten white.

It was a despair she had to accept, and she truly did not know how many more times she would endure this.

These timed examinations seemed written into her fate, inescapable and unavoidable.

Sheng Jingyu stared blankly at the overhead light, her vision enveloped by a vast brightness.

But looking out from her world, everything was neither dim nor bright.

Thud, thud…

Something rolled to her feet, red shells appearing one after another in her vision.

It was a color starkly opposite to black, a vivid, scorching red glistening with moisture, like washed flames.

The sea breeze blew over, but without the damp chill of waves.

The breeze gently and brightly enveloped her, gradually swallowing the pain burrowing deeper into her body.

The tightly gripped bedsheet was gradually released, and messy wrinkles clung to the girl’s wrist.

Sheng Jingyu held the lychees, their sweetness brushing her lips with the sea breeze, as if drowning her in oxygen deprivation, urging her to break free…

The world began to grow bizarre and surreal.

The space, clean to the point of no dust, was blown apart by the sea breeze. The square walls collapsed, and in the abstract world, there was only the scent of freedom.

Sheng Jingyu looked up and saw a sun hanging high on the dome.

She gently raised her hand, as if to touch the round sun, and the sun seemed to respond to her wish, brilliantly rushing toward her from the sky, as if to fall into her arms.

But the sun should not fall for her…

Her lightly closed eyelashes moved repeatedly, and after several struggles, Sheng Jingyu suddenly woke from her dream.

Her breathing, still rapid, had not calmed. She instinctively looked out the window, where a hazy light rested on the glass, the sun hanging low as evening arrived.

The sun had not fallen for her…

Letting out a soft breath, Sheng Jingyu felt as if waking from a great dream.

She slowly leaned back on the pillow, but a voice suddenly came to her ear.

Lu Zhao sat quietly on the single sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window and said to the awakened Sheng Jingyu, “Want to talk, Teacher?”