I’m Allergic to Pheromones - Chapter 36

The blossoming crabapple flowers on the branches quietly folded in half as moonlight filtered through the interlacing leaves. The commotion in the villa had finally come to a reluctant pause.

Eight Million, along with its little lion den, had been packed off to another small building quite far from the main house—soundproofed, so it could howl all it wanted.

As for the remaining two girls, similar in age yet strangely at odds with each other, Nan Ju waved her hand and sent Nan Xing off to the same building where Eight Million resided. Then, coaxing the silent but tearful Bai Cha, she led her upstairs.

“I sent them all away, so why are you still crying?”

The sight of the kitten crying was utterly heart-wrenching. Unlike some who bawled with snot and tears streaming down, Bai Cha’s weeping was different—her eyes and cheeks flushed red, as if unwilling to show such vulnerability in front of others. She kept her head down, occasionally sniffling with a slight frown, exuding an air of pitiable fragility.

Nan Ju didn’t know how others might react, but she herself could barely stand it after just a couple of glances.

“Are you really this upset?” She rubbed her temples in exasperation, reaching out to wipe the damp tears from Bai Cha’s face before tilting her chin up. “Are you mad at me?”

Bai Cha had always been naturally beautiful. After days of Nan Ju’s meticulous care, she had finally gained a little weight, softening the once cold and angular edges of her face. Now, when Nan Ju pinched her chin, a faint dimple appeared in her cheek.

Her eyes were rimmed red, heavy with unshed tears that shimmered like mist over a lake at dawn in early spring, adding a hazy, dreamlike quality to her gaze.

Nan Ju instinctively loosened her grip, and Bai Cha immediately pressed her lips together, her voice laced with stubborn accusation. “Who is she? Another stray you picked up from some orphanage?”

Bai Cha felt consumed by jealousy.

Logically, she knew envy was an ugly emotion. She was merely a temporary guest in this villa—Nan Ju was both her creditor and her protector. She had no right to question what Nan Ju could or couldn’t do. But when she saw a girl around her own age clinging intimately to Nan Ju’s side, an overwhelming tide of sour resentment surged inside her.

In less than a week, Nan Ju had brought yet another person home—and another girl her age, no less!

Was it her imagination, or did that punkish girl tonight bear an uncanny resemblance to her? No, not just uncanny—it was at least fifty percent!

“Could she possibly be better than me?”

Nan Ju was so stunned she couldn’t speak. Her instincts screamed that if Bai Cha kept going, they’d soon veer into the territory of clichéd tropes like “substitute lovers” and “forced possession.”

“She’s my sister. Half-sister, same father.”

The moment those words left her mouth, the furious kitten’s eyes widened in shock, tears frozen on her lashes like translucent beads.

Bai Cha stood on the wooden floor of the room while Nan Ju sat on the edge of the bed. The height difference forced Bai Cha to look up—a rare occurrence—her eyes glimmering with starlight under the light, brimming with a mix of delight and mischief.

“Did my little kitten get jealous?”

Bai Cha’s face flushed crimson in an instant, her eyes misty as her lashes fluttered nervously. A teardrop clinging to them fell onto the dark floor, fragile as glass.

The delicate secrets of her heart pierced through the evening breeze. The white gauze curtains by the window fluttered gently, softly brushing against the cold, hard wall corners. Nan Ju smiled faintly, her expression rippling like spring water disturbed by the wind, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Bai Cha’s reddened face.

Since her differentiation, Bai Cha’s emotions had become far more pronounced than before. Her deliberately cold exterior had softened unbearably due to the troublesome pheromones, making her extremely clingy. She would often spiral into anxious thoughts when Nan Ju was out of sight.

These were symptoms of an Omega’s unstable post-differentiation period. In about half a month, when her pheromones stabilized, she would return to normal. Nan Ju understood this perfectly and never found it tiresome. On the contrary, she had grown quite fond of this daily routine of teasing the kitten.

At this moment, Bai Cha resembled a cat whose territory had been invaded—hissing with arched back and bristled fur because her owner had brought home a new feline, yet desperately retracting her claws and fangs for fear of angering Nan Ju, though her face still betrayed her grievance.

Having watched long enough, Nan Ju finally called softly, “Come here.”

The other girl shuffled over reluctantly, her slender shadow falling across Nan Ju, stretching from the white blouse down to her knees.

“Too tall,” Nan Ju remarked critically, her drawn-out tone making the stubbornly upright girl instinctively bend slightly, revealing a section of pale, delicate neck.

Fingers gently pinched the nape, carefully avoiding the gland. Bai Cha heard Nan Ju’s voice whisper by her ear, soft and melodious.

“Why aren’t you wearing a scent patch?”

“Wearing it too long hurts,” Bai Cha lifted her head just in time to see Nan Ju’s half-lidded eyes concealing scattered starlight, a flash of porcelain skin disappearing in the shadows.

“Where does it hurt?”

“The gland hurts… and itches a little.” Bai Cha found herself momentarily dazed by the Omega before her, suddenly realizing how extraordinary her beauty was—carved into her very bones.

Nan Ju withdrew her hand, grasping Bai Cha’s wrist instead as she frowned slightly. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Let me check if it’s an allergic reaction.”

The vulnerable neck bent even lower. With a single touch, Nan Ju could feel the tender gland, which reddened and swelled at the slightest contact—clearly irritated.

Bai Cha felt her bones momentarily turn to jelly, a shiver racing up her spine as her cheeks gradually flushed. Yet she remained obedient and docile.

She didn’t understand her own thoughts. She adored seeing Nan Ju’s expressions change because of her—whether angry or delighted, she wanted those eyes to see only her. That thought made her heart swell as if filled with sweet, fluffy clouds, making her want to close her eyes in contentment.

She was like a greedy little monster, coveting Nan Ju’s affection and indulgence.

Yes, indulgence.

Bai Cha could clearly sense Nan Ju’s almost limitless indulgence toward her. Perhaps it stemmed from guilt and compensation for missing that phone call, or maybe it was mixed with sympathy and pity that even Nan Ju herself hadn’t noticed. But Bai Cha didn’t care—she clung tightly to that soft spot in Nan Ju’s heart, greedily seeking her affection and tolerance within those boundaries.

She was a greedy outlaw, an ambitious little villain, wishing Nan Ju’s gaze would remain fixed on her forever, never straying even a fraction.

This was the terrifying desire that grew endlessly in her heart, one she struggled with all her might to conceal.

“It’s swollen, probably an allergic reaction. Does it hurt?” Nan Ju asked by her ear, her forearm resting near Bai Cha’s face, revealing a stretch of soft, fair skin.

Bai Cha couldn’t help but close her eyes, afraid of letting the other see the emotions in them.

“It hurts when touched, but otherwise it’s fine.”

Nan Ju withdrew her hand, feeling a bit exasperated. “Stop using the patches for now. The villa is full of Betas anyway, and Aunt Pei is on leave. I’ll take you to the research institute tomorrow.”

“Let’s go on the weekend. You still have work tomorrow.”

Nan Ju was instantly moved—her little one was always so considerate. It really made her heart ache with fondness.

“Not angry anymore?” Nan Ju smiled, the weight in her chest lifting. “With eight million and you at home, I already have enough headaches. Why would I bring back any other little pets? What are you so afraid of, kitten?”

Bai Cha had long stopped crying, though faint traces of red lingered in her eyes. She instinctively avoided Nan Ju’s probing gaze, quickly thinking up a new excuse.

“She’s taller than me.”

Nan Ju: “?”

“That girl, she’s taller than me.” Bai Cha tugged at her clothes awkwardly, a hint of defiance in her voice. “When she stands straight, she reaches your shoulder.”

It looked annoyingly well-matched, enough to make her chest burn with frustration.

“You’ll grow taller,” Nan Ju said, both amused and exasperated by the sulky child. “Omegas are like that—after differentiation, you’ll go through a second growth spurt. You’ll be much taller than you are now.”

“Was it like that for you when you differentiated?”

“Not really.” Nan Ju thought back, piecing together fragmented memories. “If I remember right, I was already 170 cm when I differentiated, and later grew to 178.”

Back then, everyone had assumed the original host would differentiate into a dominant Alpha. Instead, she became an Omega—one who, in heels, could look down on more than half the Alphas, an impressive feat.

In this world, most Omegas were slender, delicate, and petite, rarely exceeding 170 cm. Nan Ju’s height made her stand out like a crane among chickens.

The original host had disliked her height, but Bai Cha, clearly, envied it.

Dissatisfied, she glanced down at her own short legs, sulking. “But I want to grow up quickly, to stand by your side.”

“Stand by my side?”

Nan Ju was puzzled.

“You already can stand by my side. No one can take your place.”

Bai Cha only shook her head stubbornly.

Nan Ju thought for a moment, then reached out to open the bedside drawer. She rummaged inside and pulled out a pencil before standing up and taking Bai Cha’s hand, leading her toward the door.

Bai Cha’s back pressed against the wall, the cold seeping through her thin clothes. The curled ends of her hair brushed Nan Ju’s shoulders like winding flowers. She stiffened, not daring to move, as Nan Ju’s amused voice curled through the air, lingering sweetly.

“Stand straight, or I’ll measure wrong.”

The soft touch was fleeting. By the time Bai Cha snapped out of her daze, Nan Ju was already two steps away, twirling the pencil between her fingers with an approving nod. “Not bad.”

“Move aside first. I’ll mark mine too.”

Bai Cha numbly stepped away.

A gray line was added—27 centimeters apart. Once the height marks were drawn, Nan Ju spun the pencil deftly before shifting slightly along the wall and beckoning Bai Cha over.

“Come see. Check if the line I drew against my head is accurate. Didn’t make me shorter, did I? From now on, just grow at this pace—no rush. I think there’s still plenty of room.”

Bai Cha silently studied the two lines on the pristine white wall, then glanced at Nan Ju beside her, standing tall as a reference. She stepped closer, pressed against her, and raised a hand to measure against Nan Ju’s head before murmuring, “Seems about right.”