I’m Allergic to Pheromones - Chapter 34

The People’s Hospital was awash in sterile white as far as the eye could see.

Holding a bouquet of carnations, Bai Cha walked quietly beside Nan Ju, unable to resist reaching up to touch the disposable scent-blocking patch on the back of her neck.

Her movement was subtle, but Nan Ju noticed it anyway.

“Uncomfortable?”

The woman lowered her head slightly, pausing in the corridor. Her gaze was attentive and gentle, her posture graceful and poised. Even with large sunglasses obscuring her face, she effortlessly drew the attention of passersby.

Bai Cha keenly sensed the lingering stares—both overt and covert—from those around them. Irritated, she shot a few subtle glares before shaking her head at Nan Ju, the flowers in her arms swaying slightly. “No, let’s go.”

“Alright. If you feel unwell, tell me. We can always go back to the research institute for another check-up.”

Bai Cha nodded, doing her best to ignore the odd sensation of the patch lightly rubbing against her scent gland.

The scent-blocking patch had been urgently developed by the institute to accommodate Bai Cha’s unique secondary gender presentation. Thin and resembling a medical bandage, it temporarily isolated her from external pheromones but needed replacement every three hours.

Nan Ju carried an entire box in her pocket. If they stayed out too long, she’d have to replace it.

Disposable and costly, these patches weren’t practical for long-term use. Nan Ju made a mental note to push the institute to produce more—otherwise, she’d constantly worry about Bai Cha feeling exposed outside. After all, she couldn’t keep the girl confined to the villa forever.

“This hospital is owned by my family. I’ve already had my assistant inform them. The headmistress can be discharged in two weeks, so don’t worry too much.”

The girl had been tense ever since entering the hospital, clutching the bouquet like it was a live bomb. Nan Ju found it baffling.

“The headmistress must care about you a lot. She asked after you while hospitalized. When you see her later, talk to her properly, alright?”

Bai Cha tightened her grip on the flowers to keep them from slipping and mumbled a quiet, “Mm.”

She had never been well-liked by the nuns or volunteers at the orphanage—only the headmistress had shown her consistent kindness.

At five years old, she had been found at the orphanage gates and brought in by the headmistress.

Though grateful for the gentle elder’s warmth, Bai Cha couldn’t conform to the orphanage’s rules like the other children. Suspicious, sensitive, and rebellious by nature, she had repeatedly turned down prospective adoptive parents until she no longer dared to speak openly with the headmistress.

The weight of that concerned gaze had felt suffocating, like a mountain pressing down on her.

She instinctively shied away from such heavy affection.

The hospital room soon came into view. Nan Ju stepped aside, tilting her chin toward the door to signal Bai Cha to knock and enter on her own.

Hesitating, the girl stood frozen for a moment, clutching the flowers before mustering the same courage she used for climbing through windows. She knocked softly, then pushed the door open just a crack before slipping inside.

“Headmistress… I came to see you.”

The silver-haired matron was leaning against the hospital bed reading a book. Her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be in her youth, and she wore glasses perched on her nose. When she saw the pair—one tall, one small—enter, clear surprise flashed across her face.

“Bai Cha? What brings you here?”

She’d broken her leg and had been hospitalized, but with the orphanage short-staffed, no one had been able to visit. She could only call daily to check if the children were staying out of trouble. Never had she imagined Bai Cha would come to the hospital.

“Did you sneak out again? Classes aren’t even over for the day yet.”

The elderly woman glared in irritation, completely ignoring Nan Ju standing behind, and made to get out of bed.

The IV bottle by the bedside swayed precariously. No longer able to pretend to be an emotionless prop, Nan Ju quickly stepped forward to stop her reckless movement.

“I brought her here. Please don’t rush—be careful of the IV needle.”

Removing her sunglasses, Nan Ju revealed an exceptionally beautiful face that made the matron pause mid-recognition: “Aren’t you—”

Before she could finish, Nan Ju smoothly continued with a playful blink: “Yes, it’s me. This hospital belongs to my family. My assistant visited you before—remember? I happened to see this child on the road and brought her along. My assistant said you’re recovering well. Is there anything I can help with?”

The matron instinctively declined: “Everything’s fine, no need to trouble yourself.”

Across a bewildered Bai Cha, their eyes met and silently reached some unspoken understanding.

Nan Ju didn’t want Bai Cha discovering her past secret donations to the orphanage now. Having just signed a sponsorship agreement with the girl, she wished to avoid adding more emotional burden.

The orphanage funding was best left to dissolve like soap bubbles.

Having spent decades at the orphanage, the matron had encountered many peculiar benefactors. Facing Nan Ju’s frantic eye signals, she looked slightly odd but suppressed her questions for now.

Glancing between the composed wealthy sponsor and the nervous Bai Cha clutching flowers, her heart softened as she beckoned the girl over.

“Bai Cha, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Relieved, Bai Cha shuffled forward, mentally rehearsing the story she’d prepared with Nan Ju earlier. “Matron, this is… the guardian I found for myself.”

Even prepared, the ailing matron still started, her reading glasses slipping down her nose as she trembled: “You found yourself what?”

Bai Cha shrank back. “A guardian.”

The odd stare-off between elder and child grew increasingly awkward. Nan Ju quietly turned her gaze to the window, thinking she couldn’t stay any longer—her secondhand embarrassment was acting up again.

“I’ll let you talk. I need to get some forms from the attending physician.”

Neither paid her any mind as Nan Ju slipped out unnoticed, wiping nonexistent sweat from her brow while muttering: “Brave kitty fears no trouble. Little cat, you’re on your own now.”

The silence in the hospital room instantly spread throughout the space. Bai Cha nervously clutched the bouquet of carnations tighter, the cool droplets falling onto her arm and leaving transparent trails.

The matron’s gaze gradually turned stern. “Bai Cha, you climbed over the welfare institute’s wall again to run away, didn’t you?”

She didn’t believe a single word of Nan Ju’s story about coincidentally meeting the girl on the road. While Bai Cha didn’t recognize Nan Ju, she certainly did. Just last week, Nan Ju had secretly visited the welfare institute to take Bai Cha’s files. At the time, she’d been surprised, thinking the woman intended to adopt Bai Cha, but Nan Ju had refused.

Nan Ju had said she only wanted to be a sponsor, not anyone’s adoptive parent.

Yet now, Bai Cha had brought this woman before her, claiming to have found herself a guardian?

The matron felt utterly confused. The only explanation she could think of was that Bai Cha had relapsed into her old habit of sneaking out when she wasn’t around, and by some twist of fate encountered this peculiar benefactor Nan Ju.

After all, that woman even visited the welfare institute stealthily, unwilling to be seen.

“Don’t stay silent,” came the aged yet vigorous voice pressing Bai Cha for answers. “Do you even know who she is? Adoption from welfare institutes has conditions—you can’t just randomly pick someone for yourself. If you don’t explain, I’ll call someone to take you back right now.”

“I won’t go back.” Bai Cha instinctively resisted. Looking at the stern elderly woman, she easily detected the deep concern hidden in those eyes and suddenly felt overwhelming guilt.

She seemed to always be causing this woman worry.

Placing the bouquet on the hospital bed, the delicate carnations crowded together, exuding the fragrance of spring.

Bai Cha twisted her fingers nervously and confessed honestly: “I’m sorry, Matron. I did climb the wall to run away.”

The old woman sighed and motioned for her to come closer, asking gently, “What was the reason this time? Did Lin Wangyang bully you again with his gang?”

A large, dry palm stroked her head tenderly. Feeling such obvious care and affection, Bai Cha’s nose tingled with unshed tears.

Ever since her differentiation, she’d struggled to control these physiological reactions, which now frustrated her.

“No, it was Sister Mary who locked me in the solitary room. I hated it there, so I ran.”

The stroking hand paused momentarily. The matron’s kindly expression darkened briefly before quickly smoothing over when Bai Cha looked up sharply.

“What else? How did you meet that woman earlier? Why do you want her as your guardian?”

The matron couldn’t fathom what would make that beautiful, wealthy yet not overly sentimental Omega change her mind. After much deliberation, she could only conclude that Bai Cha had piqued the woman’s interest.

And even before this, Nan Ju had clearly acted as if she knew Bai Cha.

“Has that wealthy young lady decided to adopt you then?”

Bai Cha shook her head, hesitating before answering: “I don’t want her to adopt me. But she promised to sponsor me as my guardian until I come of age.”

“How can you become a guardian without adoption?” The director frowned disapprovingly, countless worrisome thoughts surfacing in her mind. She couldn’t help but grab Bai Cha’s hand. “Bai Cha, Mother Director feels this isn’t very appropriate.”

The elderly woman’s hands were rough. When they gripped Bai Cha’s arm, she could easily feel the distinct knuckles and calluses—just like when she’d been led into the orphanage at five years old, holding that same hand.

Tilting her head up, Bai Cha looked at the old woman who had done her best to care for her all these years. She placed her hand—still adorned with a cat-patterned band aid—over the director’s, revealing a rare, genuine smile.

“Because I presented as an Omega.” Bai Cha blinked lightly and said softly, “Mother Director, her surname is Nan. She’s also an Omega. She lacks nothing, so you don’t need to worry about her taking advantage of me.”

Bai Cha’s explanation was somewhat vague. The director showed surprise upon hearing Nan Ju’s surname and wanted to ask for more details, but the brightness in Bai Cha’s eyes made her hold back.

She had never seen Bai Cha smile like this before.

“Good child, Mother Director just wants to know one thing—does she treat you well?”

Did Nan Ju treat her well?

Bai Cha’s thoughts drifted unconsciously. She didn’t dwell on anything else, only remembering the look in Nan Ju’s eyes when she’d gazed at her beneath the crabapple tree.

“She treats me very well.”

Nan Ju had been waiting in the corridor for quite some time. When the hospital room door finally opened, Bai Cha walked out looking dazed, clearly having endured no small amount of lecturing and admonishment.

The two looked at each other and both sighed in relief.

“All settled then?”

While Bai Cha looked thoroughly scolded, Nan Ju appeared full of energy. For once, Bai Cha felt a twinge of resentment. “You just left me alone in there.”

Mother Director had seized this rare opportunity to lecture her for a full hour!

Nan Ju rubbed her nose and coughed lightly. “Your scent suppressant patch needs to be changed soon.”

An obvious attempt to change the subject. Bai Cha pursed her lips slightly, silently expressing her minor displeasure.

The girl was still painfully thin, dressed in a simple T-shirt and overalls, yet her entire demeanor was vibrant and lively—no longer gloomy and repressed as before.

Nan Ju watched with a touch of pride, a small sense of smugness rising in her heart.

Truly, the process of raising a kitten was incredibly healing!

Unable to resist, she reached out and ruffled Bai Cha’s cat-like hair, turning the neatly combed short locks into a messy nest before guiltily smoothing them down. “Let’s go to the orphanage now. You can change your scent patch in the car.”

Bai Cha was easy to placate. Oblivious, she followed along with several stray hairs sticking up from her head.

The hospital was crowded, people hurrying past in all directions. Nan Ju put on her signature sunglasses and avoided the crowd. As they passed by, a flash of white fabric brushed past, causing someone to pause momentarily.

A female doctor with her hair tied back and wearing a mask turned to look down the corridor, surprise flashing in her beautifully shaped eyes.

“Doctor Pei, is something wrong?”

The woman withdrew her gaze, slipping both hands into her white coat pockets. “It’s nothing. I thought I saw someone familiar.”

—

Returning to the orphanage filled Bai Cha with complex emotions.

The thin door panel divided the space into inside and out. Standing outside, she looked up at the place where she’d lived for twelve years, unable to put into words exactly what she felt.

She had once struggled to leave this place, spreading her wings like a bird to soar over the high walls. Yet after truly leaving and looking back, the walls seemed to have shrunk. The crisp chirping of birds rang out, and the starfruit tree’s lush green leaves swayed gently in the breeze.

Suddenly, someone lightly poked her back. Bai Cha snapped out of her thoughts and turned to see Nan Ju standing below the steps, reaching out to poke her like a roly-poly doll. “What are you afraid of? I’m right here with you.”

Bai Cha licked her lips and knocked on the orphanage’s gate.

They arrived on a weekend when the children didn’t have school and were being herded by the nuns to tidy up the lawn in the courtyard.

As Nan Ju led Bai Cha inside, all the children lifted their heads to stare at them, like a nest of hungry fledglings.

The nuns recognized Nan Ju’s face immediately. Soon, the tall, thin nun they had met before hurried over.

“Miss Nan,” the nun said, eyeing the indifferent Omega before glancing at Bai Cha, who was being held by Nan Ju. Her lips trembled slightly.

“What do you mean by this?”

Nan Ju cut straight to the point. “I’m taking Bai Cha with me.”

“Adoption requires screening and—”

Before she could finish, Nan Ju interrupted.

“I’ve already spoken to your orphanage’s director. She’s agreed. You can call her to confirm.”

The children immediately erupted into murmurs. One of the taller boys gaped at Bai Cha, thinking: Oh no! Bai Cha actually found a powerful backer and came back! Is she gonna pay me back for all those times now?

Bai Cha, disgusted, averted her gaze, unwilling to engage with the nun who had punished her before. She frowned—What’s with this idiot’s expression? Is she challenging me to a fight?

“I’ll go talk with the nun upstairs. Do you want to come, or would you rather find your friends?” Nan Ju asked softly, bending down.

Bai Cha scanned the crowd but didn’t see Tang Ou. Unease settled in her chest. “I want to look for a friend.”

Nan Ju nodded understandingly. “Go ahead.”

As Bai Cha straightened her back and walked toward the group, everyone instinctively parted to make way. She rarely interacted with the other children—Tang Ou was her only close friend. The kids shoved and nudged each other, but no one dared to step forward.

Mo Chuiliu stiffened, watching helplessly as Bai Cha strode toward her with a cold expression. Only one thought ran through her mind: She’s definitely planning to shove me into the sandpit again!

“Come with me.”

Bai Cha kept her eyes downcast, unused to so many eyes on her, and led Mo Chuiliu to the starfruit tree by the wall.

“Why don’t I see Tang Ou?”

“She got adopted!”

Relieved that Bai Cha wasn’t here to fight, Mo Chuiliu exhaled loudly. “Yesterday, some Beta came to the orphanage, and she left with them, overjoyed. Didn’t even say goodbye—just left a note.”

Bai Cha frowned. “Do you know what kind of Beta it was?”

“How would I know? I was in class! But I heard from Sister Fatty that it was someone who’d visited before—someone with the surname Qiu.”

Qiu. That matched the Beta woman who had come once over three months ago.

Her little friend had finally found an adopter. Bai Cha’s tense heart eased slightly. “What did the note say?”

“You wrote… Wait, why should I tell you? Tang Ou left this note for me.” Mo Chuiliu stopped mid-sentence, realizing she’d been obediently answering Bai Cha’s questions. She lifted her chin arrogantly, “Call me ‘good sister’ and I’ll tell you.”

“I’m two years older than you.” Bai Cha looked at her like she was an idiot, silently raising a small fist. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Ugh, can’t you take a joke? Fine, I’ll tell you.”

“She didn’t write much, just left a phone number and said she’d definitely come back to see me, and to keep an eye out for news about you.” Mo Chuiliu muttered, her eyes darting toward Bai Cha. Unable to resist, she asked, “Little Bai Cha, who was that woman earlier? Her legs were practically up to your chest—was she here to adopt you?”

Bai Cha wanted to say no, but paused before speaking. “Yeah,” she replied simply, offering nothing more.

The evening breeze rustled through the treetops, the thin, delicate leaves of the carambola tree whispering pleasantly.

They stood facing each other, Mo Chuiliu’s shadow noticeably longer and broader. She studied Bai Cha’s neat, clean clothes and delicate little face, sighing sincerely, “That’s great. Now you won’t have to sneak over the wall in the middle of the night anymore. It’s too dangerous with all those glass shards up there.”

Bai Cha froze, surprised that Mo Chuiliu would say something like this.

At the orphanage, she had always assumed Mo Chuiliu looked down on her—always towering over her, glancing sideways with that superior air, never speaking properly. If Mo Chuiliu hadn’t helped Tang Ou rescue her from solitary confinement last time, she wouldn’t even be standing here talking to her calmly.

Truth be told, just ten minutes ago, she thought Mo Chuiliu was glaring at her in challenge.

“I wasn’t the one who told on you last time, the one that got you locked up.”

Bai Cha looked up in shock, her expression strange as she watched the tall, broad-shouldered Mo Chuiliu fidget and mumble under her breath, her face even flushing slightly with embarrassment. It sent a shiver down Bai Cha’s arms.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah.” Bai Cha replied impatiently. The rare moment of civil conversation with her former rival made her uncomfortable. Stranger still, she actually sensed a hint of warmth from the other girl?

The little kitten, flustered and angry, suddenly felt a surge of irritation.

“Why haven’t you presented yet?”

The abrupt change of topic made Mo Chuiliu drop her awkwardness immediately, her own temper flaring.

“How should I know? The doctor said during my last checkup that it’d probably happen this week.”

Most cases of delayed secondary gender presentation, despite fully developed glands, occurred in Omegas.

Bai Cha hesitated before blurting out, “You’re not going to present as an Omega, are you? That’s disgusting!”

“Ugh, don’t jinx it! Have you ever seen an Omega as tall and strong as me? I’m definitely going to be a top-tier Alpha!”

They locked eyes, both shuddering at the thought.

Bai Cha instantly regretted her words, her mind flooded with the horrifying image of Mo Chuiliu—towering and muscular—running toward her in a frilly pink dress. She felt dizzy just thinking about it.

Harming the enemy by a thousand while losing ten thousand herself—she truly was destined to clash with that big oaf Mo Chuiliui.

“I hope your dream comes true.”

Simultaneously, the two fell silent, pushing this dreadful topic aside.

By the time Nan Ju finished all the procedures and stepped out, Bai Ruo seemed to sense something and turned to look. The other woman smiled radiantly, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, like a mesmerizing enchantress.

“You should go now,” Mo Chuiliui urged, giving Bai Ruo a slight push from behind. “Once Tang Ou returns, we’ll come find you together.”

Bai Ruo nodded and turned to leave.

The setting sun stretched their shadows long. Nan Ju, holding a paper bag, clasped Bai Ruo’s hand as they walked out of the orphanage gate. Their shadows—one long, one short—drew close together, folding slightly at the threshold before lingering inside.

Bai Chan turned her head to look, watching as the shadow also stepped over the threshold, as if seeing her five-year-old self stumbling out after it.

Her steps were light as she tilted her face up and smiled at the woman beside her: “We’re going home, right?”

“Mhm. We’re going home now. Aunt Pei had the kitchen prepare lots of delicious food for you.”

The setting sun blazed like bl00d, warm and orange-red. Bai Chan lifted her gaze to the sky, forcing her eyes wide open as she watched her own fierceness and resolve clash with the wind, sweeping across her face and tousling her loose strands of hair.

She tightened her grip on another hand.

“Okay.”