I’m Allergic to Pheromones - Chapter 5

The night grew deeper, stars peeking through the clouds with faint glimmers. The alley was dark and heavy, the wind bitingly cold.

Nan Ju blocked the alley entrance like a ruffian, her jacket slung over her arm, car keys and sunglasses dangling from her fingers.

From where she stood, she could just make out the slight curve of the child’s back and the tense, wiry lines of their thin arms.

All because of Nan Ju’s threat, the kid was so angry they’d clenched their tiny fists.

“Hurry up, I don’t have time to waste with you.”

Nan Ju jingled the keys again, impatience lacing her tone.

The clouds parted, revealing a crescent moon, and Nan Ju finally got a clear look at the person who had turned around.

It was actually a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old? Or perhaps fourteen or fifteen?

She was too short to tell—around one and a half meters tall.

Petite in stature, with a small face, uneven shoulder-length hair sticking out in disarray, lips pressed tightly together, and eyes dark and bright, brimming with wariness and defensiveness.

This was a fierce little wildcat.

Nan Ju was surprised but quickly masked the flicker of emotion in her eyes.

Instead of stepping forward, she leaned lazily against the nearby wall, casually crooking a finger at the kid who was staring at her unblinkingly.

“Come here. Tell me again what you saw.”

The fact that Nan Ju hadn’t immediately called the police and had instead made way for her made the girl, who had been planning to bolt at the first opportunity, pause in surprise. Her clenched fists loosened slightly.

“That’s what happened… They were already gone by the time you got here…”

The kid stammered through her explanation, and Nan Ju responded with a noncommittal “Hmm,” neither approving nor disapproving, preoccupied with fiddling with the keychain on her car keys.

Standing so close, the already nervous child grew even more tense.

She caught a faint scent from Nan Ju—something she couldn’t name but instinctively found pleasant.

Nan Ju’s face was striking, and the girl dared a quick, furtive glance before looking away, too intimidated to meet her gaze again.

A face that beautiful, with such a lovely scent—she seemed like an Omega. But it was rare for an unmated Omega to linger alone outside at night, and Nan Ju carried herself with an intimidating presence.

Maybe she was an unusually pretty Alpha.

Alphas were strong—getting hit by one would hurt…

“What’s your name?”

The sudden question made the kid flinch, her eyes widening as she instantly flattened herself against the wall, limbs stiff.

She seemed terrified Nan Ju might hit her, yet she didn’t run. Her arms hung stiffly at her sides, tiny fists clenched tight, like a startled kitten.

Early spring nights were cold, and the oversized T-shirt and shorts she wore did little to keep out the chill.

Nan Ju studied the kid’s wide, round eyes, her expression unreadable, then suddenly raised her hand, the keys jingling with a familiar sound.

I should’ve run earlier! This Alpha, prettier than any Omega, is going to beat me to death!

The kid stared in horror, her body reflexively curling in, but instead of a blow, something heavy landed on her shoulders.

It was a little rough—something brushed against her arm, sharp but not painful.

The hem of a jacket, made of stiff fabric.

The keys jingled again as Nan Ju withdrew her hand from where it had hovered near the kid’s shoulder. She bent down, curling her index finger to lightly tap the tip of the kid’s nose.

All puffed up—so cute.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Bai. Bai Cha.”

Nan Ju nodded and smoothly stood up, turning away.

“Let’s go then.”

Bai Cha looked up dazedly, the initial wariness and fear in her eyes replaced by pure bewilderment.

“Where to?”

“Dragging you to the police station.”

On that chilly spring night, the beautiful young woman glanced back with a smile, her lips curving in undisguised mischief.

Bai Cha pressed her lips tightly together, watching as Nan Ju walked steadily toward the light. Finally unable to resist, she clutched the jacket around her shoulders and stumbled after her.

The dark alley watched silently behind them as she ran, glancing back repeatedly—the darkness remained just one step away.

Half an hour later, the pair sat on the steps beside the alley, slurping noodles.

Bai Cha cradled a box of fried noodles, wolfing them down ravenously. Her bony fingers gripped the disposable chopsticks, the knuckles protruding sharply from her emaciated hands.

The faded T-shirt didn’t so much clothe her as hang off her frame—so oversized it covered her ill-fitting shorts when she sat, leaving only her stick-thin legs exposed.

Now that she could eat, her earlier ferocity vanished, leaving only the pitiable desperation of a starving kitten.

Having eaten her fill earlier, Nan Ju picked slowly at the meat slices in her noodles. Looking down, she noticed the battered black canvas shoes—at least two sizes too big, their edges peeling, laces tied tightly yet still gaping around the girl’s painfully thin ankles.

When she looked up, she saw only the child’s stuffed cheeks as Bai Cha devoured the noodles with single-minded focus.

After observing for a moment, Nan Ju set her noodles aside and stood, brushing off her clothes.

“I’m thirsty—going to buy water.”

The nearest convenience store was five minutes away. As the slender figure disappeared into the distance, Bai Cha glanced up briefly, her eyes repeatedly darting toward the abandoned food.

Though physically full, her mind still screamed of hunger.

When Nan Ju returned, the noodles remained untouched—the pile of pork slices undisturbed, the plastic bag fluttering noisily in the wind beneath them.

Without comment, Nan Ju took one water bottle from her bag and handed over the other with its carrier.

“Here.”

Bai Cha accepted it gingerly with both hands but didn’t drink.

“I should head home soon. Where do you live? I’ll take you.”

Having been out all day, Nan Ju knew her family would start calling if she didn’t return. She checked the time, planning to drop the girl off first.

Bai Cha’s reaction was unexpectedly vehement.

“No! I can go back myself!”

Nan Ju raised an eyebrow.

“It’s dark out. Sure, you don’t want me to take you?”

“No.”

The child stood stiffly, clutching the water bottle, her round eyes wary and shoulders tense—looking ready to bolt at any moment.

A feral kitten indeed—stubborn and hard to coax.

“Alright then. Get home safe.”

With that, Nan Ju got into her car, settling comfortably into the seat to check her GPS.

She didn’t even glance outside. Bai Cha stood in the cold wind, catching a glimpse of the woman’s profile through the car’s rearview mirror.

Under the interplay of the night’s gloom and the warm interior light, that face became even more strikingly vivid.

What kind of Alpha could look like this? It was downright outrageous.

“Hey, thanks.”

This was the third sentence the little brat had spoken since leaving the alley.

Nan Ju put down her phone and leaned against the car window with amused interest, watching her.

“Thanks for what?”

Bai Cha stared at her, then suddenly turned her head away.

“None of your business.”

Nan Ju: ???

She was utterly baffled. She really didn’t understand why kids these days got angry so easily. Not wanting to dwell on it, she straightened up and casually tossed the jacket draped over the car window outside.

“This is torn. Toss it for me.”

The stubborn brat, refusing to turn around, was suddenly smacked in the face by the jacket. By the time she flailed and managed to pull it off, the car had already sped far away. All she saw was a flash of a red taillight swaggering into the night before disappearing.

Bai Cha stood frozen, arms full of water and the jacket, the weight heavy in her arms as the cold wind stung her ears.

She looked down at the untouched box of stir-fried rice noodles on the ground and silently thought: This person seems to have more money than sense.

By the time she returned to the villa, it was already past nine. The crescent moon hid behind clouds, revealing only half its shape, and the stars were sparse—tomorrow likely wouldn’t be good weather.

Nan Ju went straight for a bath the moment she got back, emerging refreshed and enveloped in the luxurious scent of wealth.

Today had gone well—she’d successfully called off her engagement and even managed to tease a little kitten along the way. Her mood was excellent, and everything seemed pleasing to her eyes.

Since pheromones had no effect on her, Nan Ju felt invincible, as if she could handle anything.

Whether it was domineering Alphas, scumbag Alphas, or stunningly beautiful Alphas—as long as she kept her cool, the plot would unfold exactly as she dictated.

A mere smutty novel? Nothing to fear.

“Did anyone come looking for me today?”

In high spirits, Nan Ju asked a servant for a pair of scissors and began ruthlessly pruning the crabapple flowers in the vase on the table.

The villa was filled with flowering quinces, their blooms thriving, and occasionally a few branches were cut to decorate the indoors.

Under Nan Ju’s hands, the elegantly arranged branches were soon reduced to a chaotic mess. Aunt Pei watched calmly from the side, unfazed.

“Miss Su sent over a paper bag at eight o’clock, saying you’d left it behind.”

She’d delivered it so promptly—Nan Ju hadn’t wasted her effort sending two pots of stink-flowers over that afternoon.

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nothing.”

Nan Ju’s smile deepened. The more she thought about it, the more she realized her ex-fiancée, for all her CEO-like demeanor, was actually quite easy to bully.

She’d promised to return it early, and she’d done so without delay.

So obedient. Next time, I’ll send her more stink-flowers.

The scissors snipped wildly, leaves and buds scattering across the table and floor. Aunt Pei glanced at the now considerably thinner bouquet and decided it was time to gently intervene in Nan Ju’s avant-garde floral butchery.

“Miss Ye from the Ye family visited this afternoon. She brought a basket of homemade cookies and said she’d come by tomorrow to play.”

The snipping finally stopped. Nan Ju set the scissors down, accepted a towel from a maid to wipe her hands, and replied lazily,

“Sure, let her come.”

Aunt Pei nodded, making a mental note of this important matter.

“What about the cookies Miss Ye sent?”

Nan Ju was walking back to wash her hands upstairs when she heard this. She tilted her head slightly with an innocent expression, offering a sweet smile.

“I don’t like them. Throw them away, or feed them to the dogs if you prefer.”