Failed to Pretend to Be an Alpha and Got Marked by the Enemy (ABO, GL) - Chapter 28

Chapter 28

“Boom—”

The sky above the town was clear and cloudless, but a thunderclap exploded in Yu Jing’s mind.

What did she just say?

—Can you put away your pheromones first?

Pheromones, pheromones, pheromones…

Those three words were like a terrifying curse, echoing in surround sound through her scrambled brain. Her vision went dark.

She was done for, done for, done for…

Her hands instinctively gripped Ming Zhu’s shoulders. Meeting Ming Zhu’s piercing gaze, which seemed to see through everything, Yu Jing tried to deceive herself, “Y-you heard wrong.”

Ming Zhu frowned, raising her hand, her fingertips brushing the edge of the wound on her neck.

Ming Zhu knew her pheromones had leaked. With broken skin, pheromones carried in the bl00d would inevitably escape. But the spot on her neck was discreet, and the scent was faint. Unless someone was extremely close, it was hard to notice, especially with her hair covering it, so she hadn’t bothered about it.

Thinking Yu Jing, still undifferentiated, wouldn’t sense pheromones, Ming Zhu had confidently let her help with the bandage. She never expected Yu Jing to ask her to “put away” her pheromones.

The words were spoken right by her ear—how could Ming Zhu have misheard?

The sunlight was dazzling. Ming Zhu’s phoenix-like eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the girl with a strange expression in front of her. A bold guess formed in her mind, “Have you differentiated?”

“…”

Yu Jing was completely dumbfounded.

She’d worked so hard to keep her differentiation a secret from everyone, only to expose herself!

Her eyes widened in panic as she looked at Ming Zhu. In her chaotic mind, a dark thought emerged: if she knocked Ming Zhu out and made her lose her memory, could she still save herself?

But that thought was snuffed out when she heard Ming Zhu’s next question.

“You’re a full-fledged Alpha—why wouldn’t you dare tell anyone about your differentiation?” Sensing her pheromones meant Yu Jing had differentiated, a fact Ming Zhu didn’t doubt. From her reaction, Ming Zhu felt her guess was correct.

Yu Jing’s frozen brain rebooted in an instant, her spirits lifting.

Alpha!

What Yu Jing had been hiding wasn’t just her differentiation but the fact that she was an Omega.

Everyone knew her pre-differentiation genetic test results pointed to Alpha. Everyone assumed she’d differentiate as an Alpha. But in reality, she was an exception.

Even the doctor said her case was rare. Unless that doctor leaked her information, who would believe a presumed Alpha ended up as an Omega?

Ming Zhu’s words confirmed exactly that.

Sensing pheromones was undeniable proof of differentiation—Yu Jing couldn’t deny it. Since she’d accidentally exposed herself, she might as well admit it.

She’d take the gamble.

Yu Jing quickly sorted her thoughts, her heart clearing. She took a deep breath, calming herself to face Ming Zhu’s questioning, and said weakly, “You caught me.”

Ming Zhu’s eyebrow twitched. Just as she thought.

“Why hide it?” Ming Zhu repeated her earlier question.

In today’s society, despite calls for ABO equality, Alphas, with their strength and dominant genes, held the upper hand. Hiding as an Alpha meant giving up some of that advantage, which Ming Zhu couldn’t understand.

Yu Jing avoided her gaze, looking at their overlapping shadows on the ground, her voice soft, “Can I not say?”

Her teeth bit her lower lip tightly, sweat beading on her nose, glinting faintly in the sunlight. Her face was pale, her eyes, shadowed by long lashes, filled with unease, as if hiding some unspeakable secret.

Ming Zhu’s mind flashed to last night, when Yu Jing had clung to her, suppressing tears. Her heart tightened slightly.

This girl wasn’t as bright and sunny as she appeared on the surface.

She didn’t mention last night’s crying, perhaps having forgotten or deliberately avoiding it. But Ming Zhu hadn’t forgotten—it was etched vividly in her memory.

Like last night, Ming Zhu had no intention of prying into her privacy.

She softened her probing gaze, suppressing the strange emotions stirring within her, and looked at her calmly, “You don’t have to.”

Yu Jing’s fingers trembled slightly, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief.

She’d gambled right.

Ming Zhu didn’t suspect she was an Omega.

But she still didn’t want others to know about her differentiation—each person who knew increased the risk. Yu Jing hesitated, glancing at Ming Zhu’s impassive, seemingly incurious expression. She pursed her lips and tentatively made another request, “Then… can you keep my differentiation a secret for now?”

“Sure.” The same answer, the same tone. Ming Zhu nodded almost without hesitation.

Yu Jing was stunned. She didn’t doubt her at all?

But on second thought, it wasn’t surprising. In all the time they’d known each other, Ming Zhu had always been cool and distant, seemingly uninterested in her or anyone else.

Yu Jing suddenly felt lucky that the first person to learn her differentiation secret was Ming Zhu, not someone else. If it had been the jokester Chen Chen or the gossip-loving Xiao Yihuan, she probably wouldn’t have been able to bluff her way through.

No, if it weren’t for Ming Zhu’s pheromones throwing her off, she wouldn’t have lost control and exposed herself!

Yu Jing decided she’d visit a temple someday to check if she and Ming Zhu were astrologically doomed to clash—why did nothing good ever happen when Ming Zhu was around?

Life was too hard.

Under the blazing sun, Yu Jing had scared herself into a cold sweat. She raised her hand to wipe her forehead when Ming Zhu spoke, “Do my pheromones bother you that much? If they do, don’t bother with the bandage. I can ask Zhou Qi to help later.”

The natural rivalry between Alphas was encoded in their genes, making them instinctively repelled by each other’s pheromones. Now that Ming Zhu knew Yu Jing had differentiated, she wasn’t sure how much her pheromones repelled her.

Yu Jing thought: Not bothersome at all—it’s actually kind of nice…

But saying that would definitely make Ming Zhu question her gender. Yu Jing’s eyes flickered, glancing at the wound. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “It’s fine, I’ll help you.”

She was the one who bit her, so it was only right to help fix it.

Though the pheromones were tempting, Yu Jing was now fully alert after her scare. Her palms were sweaty, and she subtly wiped them on her skirt, pinching her thigh to steady herself and holding her breath.

This time, she swiftly tore off the misaligned bandage, grabbed two new ones, and securely covered the wound, finally blocking that distracting pheromone scent.

“Done.” Yu Jing exhaled in relief, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun and saying casually, “No idea where they’ve gone. Let’s head back.”

Ming Zhu stared at her flushed cheeks—whether from nerves or the heat—and said, “No makeup?”

“…”

Yu Jing remembered the excuse she’d used to pull her aside. She quickly pulled out a cushion compact from her bag and patted it on.

Ming Zhu played along, touching up with some foundation and lipstick.

Ten minutes later, they rejoined the group, still waiting at the original spot.

With everyone together, the group moved again. Peng Ze led the way, explaining sights, Chen Chen kept the mood lively, and the cameraman filmed nearby.

By the end of the day, they’d explored nearly the entire town. Back at the inn, they were exhausted.

Xiao Yihuan and Peng Ze, the two sweet Omegas, went upstairs to shower. Chen Chen, full of energy, sprawled on the couch playing games. Xie Haichao grabbed some rice to feed his fish, only to find them gone, “Who stole my fish?”

Yu Jing, holding the plastic bucket and about to prep the fish, froze. She turned back awkwardly, “Brother Chao, I took them.”

Xie Haichao remembered her morning promise to make crucian carp soup, slapped his forehead, and laughed loudly, “I forgot. Take them, take them, do whatever.”

“Alright.” Yu Jing smiled.

Turning, she bumped into Ming Zhu, the last to walk in.

Ming Zhu glanced at the fish in her hand, “What’s that for?”

“Cooking.” On the way back, Yu Jing had talked to the innkeeper. Tonight, she planned to make a few dishes for her friends to try.

A hint of surprise flickered in Ming Zhu’s pale eyes. She scanned the living room, then looked back at her, “Need any help?”

Yu Jing wasn’t sure what ingredients the innkeeper had bought. In the kitchen, she opened the fridge, spotted a bunch of green beans, and handed them to Ming Zhu, “Can you trim these?”

“Sure.” Ming Zhu took them to the side.

In the small kitchen, they worked back-to-back—one prepping fish, the other trimming vegetables—without much talk.

Yu Jing glanced back occasionally, noticing Ming Zhu’s methodical work, and couldn’t help saying, “Didn’t expect you to be so down-to-earth.”

The subtext: You actually set foot in a kitchen, with all its everyday chaos!

Ming Zhu placed the uniformly trimmed beans in a basket, glancing at her calmly, ignoring the teasing in her words, “I often cook at home.”

“What can you make?” Yu Jing got curious, thinking they could swap cooking tips.

Ming Zhu paused, “Congee, plain noodles, salad.”

“…” A perfect female celebrity health diet—no point in swapping tips. Yu Jing’s mouth twitched, pointing at the beans, “Take your time trimming.”

Ming Zhu glanced at her, saying nothing.

Later, Xie Haichao joined to help.

He often cooked at home and couldn’t let a young girl like Yu Jing do all the work. He whipped up two of his signature dishes, while Yu Jing made simple tomato scrambled eggs and stir-fried beans with meat. They worked quickly, and by the time Peng Ze and Xiao Yihuan came down from their showers, the table was set with four fragrant dishes and a soup.

Xiao Yihuan felt guilty for not helping and competed with Peng Ze to serve rice. Peng Ze gave in, scratching his head, “Then I’ll wash the dishes later.”

Xie Haichao lightly kicked Chen Chen, still gaming, “You’re the only one slacking.”

Chen Chen’s hand slipped, his game character died, and he wailed, setting down his phone with a grin, “Who’s slacking? I wiped this table so clean it could be a mirror.”

Xie Haichao laughed and cursed, giving him another kick.

The others joined in the laughter.

The warm, lively atmosphere froze slightly when Ming Zhu came downstairs.

Fresh from a shower, she wore casual loungewear, her hair still damp. Seeming oblivious to the shift in mood, she walked over quietly, her gaze circling the group as if deciding where to sit.

Peng Ze, eyes down, pointed to the seat beside him, “Sit with me.”

But it required circling the table, and Ming Zhu, too lazy to bother, looked at the closest seat.

Yu Jing, setting out utensils, noticed her gaze and nodded toward the seat beside her, “You can sit here too.”

Ming Zhu gave a soft “mm,” pulled out the chair beside her, and sat down calmly.

The others glanced over, exchanging odd looks.

Recalling the morning when they’d run off hand-in-hand to “fix their makeup,” Chen Chen couldn’t hold back. He tapped the table and asked bluntly, “Ming Zhu, Jingjing, how’d you two suddenly get so close?”

The others nodded inwardly: Finally, someone asked!

Yu Jing and Ming Zhu exchanged a quick glance, paused, then looked away.

“Well…” Yu Jing had expected the question. Since she and Ming Zhu had reconciled and would be filming together, she decided to be honest. Smiling, she said, “Ming Zhu and I had some misunderstandings before, but we’ve cleared them up now.”

All eyes turned to Ming Zhu.

Ming Zhu’s gaze flickered, and she calmly agreed, “It was a misunderstanding. We’re fine now.”

Yu Jing nodded repeatedly.

The group relaxed: No wonder!

None of the six guests were tactless enough to pry into what the misunderstanding was. Hearing it was resolved, they were happy for them—it would make filming easier.

Chen Chen grabbed a drink from the fridge, saying they should celebrate.

Perhaps because the tension was gone, Yu Jing ate with relish.

Chen Chen, the social media surfer, scrolled through Weibo while eating, spotting the show’s teaser. He shouted, “It’s Saturday! The first episode of ‘Treasure Hunt’ airs at 8!”

Xie Haichao checked the time—almost 8—and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV.

Yu Jing’s mood tensed. It was her first time on a major variety show. The first episode had plenty of awkward moments with Ming Zhu, not to mention the “black underwear” gag. Just thinking about their suggestive banter after falling into the trap made her toes curl in embarrassment.

She couldn’t help glancing at Ming Zhu.

Ming Zhu, sensing it, looked back, perfectly composed.

Yu Jing pretended to be calm, turning to the TV, silently praying the editors hadn’t included her cringe-worthy moments.

“It’s starting!” Chen Chen dragged his chair closer, practically glued to the screen.

The opening was animated, turning them into cute cartoon characters running through jungles, surfing oceans, and leaping in mountains. Their exaggerated expressions were adorable and fun.

The upbeat music ended, and the title ‘Crazy Treasure Hunt’ flashed across the screen. The main show began.

No lengthy preamble—the show jumped straight in, starting with the six guests’ introductions.

Chen Chen went first, startled by his own close-up, then narcissistically said, “My face is flawless from every angle—too handsome.”

Xie Haichao threw a tissue at him in mock anger.

Next was Peng Ze, as shy on screen as in real life, touching his ear with his head down.

Then came Yu Jing.

On-screen, Yu Jing was poised, “Hi, I’m singer Yu Jing.”

The scene cut to Xiao Yihuan’s cute round face, “Hi, I’m also a singer, Xiao Yihuan.”

“?” Yu Jing was slow to react. She remembered giving a long introduction, but it had been cut.

She soon accepted it, thinking the show’s runtime was limited. As the least famous, it was normal for her to get fewer shots.

But as the episode progressed, Yu Jing realized she’d been too naive.

In the first game, she and Ming Zhu lasted the longest, yet their scenes were chopped up messily, and the “black underwear” gag was gone.

In later games, aside from wide shots, she and Ming Zhu barely had close-ups. Her feared cringe moments were nowhere to be seen.

Yu Jing sensed something was off.

If her lack of screen time was due to her low status, what about Ming Zhu? Ming Zhu’s drama was a national hit, her popularity surpassing even Xie Haichao’s, yet her screen time was as scarce as Yu Jing’s.

Yu Jing’s mood grew complicated. She stole a glance at Ming Zhu.

Ming Zhu stared blankly at the TV, seemingly unbothered by her lack of screen time.

But Yu Jing couldn’t stay as calm.

‘Treasure Hunt’ was a chance she’d waited three years for. She hadn’t dared hope for much, knowing Zhang Xu was an investor.

Initially, she’d joined for the money, hoping to cash in. But after her talk with Wu Dan Ni, whose words had stung, she’d wanted to prove herself. Yet reality was harsh.

It wasn’t luck that kept Zhang Xu from replacing her—he simply wasn’t giving her screen time.

No screen time meant the audience wouldn’t see her. She’d remain a nobody.

The food in her bowl lost its flavor.

Yu Jing lowered her eyes.

Afraid of losing composure, she quickly finished her meal, set down her chopsticks, said she was going to shower, and left for the second floor.

No one suspected anything.

As she turned, Ming Zhu’s gaze shifted from the TV to her slightly dejected figure, thoughtful.

At her room’s door, Yu Jing realized she’d forgotten to ask Ming Zhu for the code. Dazed, she was about to head back down when she saw a tall figure approaching. She paused, “Not watching?”

“I barely have any screen time. Nothing worth watching,” Ming Zhu said expressionlessly.

Her words were casual, but they hit Yu Jing hard, darkening her mood. She looked away, staring at the keypad lock, and mumbled, “What’s the code?”

Ming Zhu didn’t answer directly. She walked over, her slender fingers slowly pressing three 1s and three 2s on the keypad.

“Beep—” The door unlocked.

Yu Jing stared at the lock, “Does it mean anything special?”

“No.” Ming Zhu lifted her gaze, “It’s simple and easy to remember.”

“…” Fair enough.

Fresh from eating, Yu Jing didn’t actually want to shower, but with Ming Zhu there, she didn’t want her to see her disappointment. She dawdled, grabbing clothes, and decided to shower anyway.

She passed Ming Zhu’s bed, head down.

Ming Zhu approached, holding something out to her.

Yu Jing looked closely and saw a small, translucent stone in her palm, surprised and confused, “What’s this?”

“A stone I picked up on the road,” Ming Zhu said flatly.

Yu Jing’s mouth twitched, deadpan, “I know it’s a stone.” She just didn’t get why Ming Zhu was showing it to her.

Ming Zhu’s fingers curled lightly, lifting the egg-sized stone toward the light, turning it. The stone grew more transparent, refracting different colors depending on the angle.

Though her actions were puzzling, Yu Jing couldn’t help but marvel, “This stone’s really pretty!”

Ming Zhu lowered it, meeting her eyes, and said slowly, “When I found it, it was dirty. After washing, I realized how beautiful it was.”

Yu Jing gave an obliging “oh.”

Ming Zhu sensed her perfunctory response but didn’t mind. She put the stone away, pursed her lips, and said meaningfully, “Even an unremarkable stone can be picked up by me and shine again.”

Yu Jing tilted her head. Was she bragging about finding a treasure?

Ming Zhu looked into her eyes, shifting gears, “Losing a few shots doesn’t matter. There’s still the live broadcast. They can edit the recorded version, but they can’t tamper with the live stream unless every episode is a solo competition.”

Yu Jing slowly caught on, looking at her in disbelief, “Are you comforting me?”

A flicker of unease crossed Ming Zhu’s composed face. She turned her head, then back, frowning seriously, “Zhang Xu isn’t that generous, but he’s not the only one with a say. Sulking won’t solve anything. You should think about how to stand out and show the other investors your value. Capitalists won’t ignore profit—once you’re valuable, they’ll be eager to give you more screen time.”

A nobody like her, valuable? Ming Zhu made it sound easy, but it was so hard to achieve.

Still, her words rekindled Yu Jing’s hope.

Ming Zhu was right. ‘Treasure Hunt’ was partnered with a live-streaming platform, one of the investors. The live format wouldn’t change, so she still had a chance to shine!

Yu Jing hadn’t expected Ming Zhu to go out of her way to comfort her. She was still processing her words.

Ming Zhu placed the stone on the nightstand.

Looking at her ever-indifferent face, Yu Jing’s heart warmed. She said sincerely, “Thank you.”

Ming Zhu gave a slight, careless smile.

Yu Jing happily grabbed her clothes to shower, took a few steps, and stopped.

“Sister Ming Zhu.”

She rarely used that address, and Ming Zhu found it unfamiliar, raising an eyebrow and looking at her questioningly.

Under the light, the girl’s face glowed like peach blossoms, her eyes sparkling like stars. She smiled brightly, “I suddenly feel like you’re actually pretty nice.”

Ming Zhu froze, watching her turn away, not responding.

Nice?

Ming Zhu didn’t usually meddle in others’ affairs.

Words like those—she’d never have said them before.

If she had to find a reason…

She couldn’t quite say why.

Maybe it was seeing the dejection and unwillingness in her eyes, coupled with her vulnerable, helpless state when drunk last night. She couldn’t bear to see her sad again.