I’m Allergic to Pheromones - Chapter 54

The wind rustled through the branches, where the begonias remained dazzlingly vibrant, clustered together in full bloom, as if defiantly trying to outshine the brilliance of summer itself.

Beneath the dense foliage of the flowering tree, Bai Wan, a dog, lay quietly asleep under a stone table, scattered petals resting on its fur, only to be carried away by the next gust of wind.

Noise came from the villa’s entrance as Bai Cha led someone inside. The scent of a stranger dispersed in the air, and the dog beneath the tree twitched its ears before opening its eyes to look over.

Bai Cong was afraid of dogs and instinctively took a step back. After a moment, she suppressed her fear and cautiously tugged at the hem of the person standing in front of her, whispering, “Does it bite?”

“Stupid dogs don’t bite,” Bai Cha replied coolly, her gaze lingering on Bai Cong’s hand still clutching her clothes, her expression unchanging.

Feeling awkward, the other girl quickly let go, a faint blush spreading across her fair cheeks.

“I was chased by a dog when I was little, so I’m a bit scared. Sorry.”

Bai Cha didn’t respond, instead stepping sideways to block Bai Wan’s line of sight. She lowered her lashes indifferently. “You walk ahead.”

People who had been chased by dogs were always afraid of being last. Bai Cong sighed in relief and quickly moved to Bai Cha’s side, hesitating before murmuring, “I’ll walk beside you.”

She wanted to stay a little closer to Bai Cha.

The April breeze wasn’t too warm, and the leaves rustled softly. Not long after Bai Cha led her inside, Nan Ju emerged from the study.

She was curious about the friend Bai Cha had brought home for the first time.

The black-haired woman had fair skin and wore no makeup. Her brows were slender and arched, evoking the gentle elegance of a Jiangnan lady, yet Nan Ju’s features were strikingly bold—sharp and radiant, with full, red lips. When she raised her brows to look at someone, there was an unpolished innocence in her gaze.

Bai Cong looked up at the most beautiful Omega in Flower Market and immediately sensed the difference between Nan Ju and the others.

Nan Ju was mature and alluring, like a begonia in full bloom—vibrant and breathtaking—completely unlike the underage Omegas.

No, perhaps unlike any other Omega Bai Cong had ever seen.

She was full of vitality, bold and passionate, standing barefoot on the second-floor railing in a white pleated dress, her gaze curious and direct. Though it might have been considered impolite by etiquette standards, Bai Cong didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Instead, she found it fascinating—she had never met an Omega so fearless and beautiful.

“Is that your sister?” Bai Cong couldn’t help but glance back at Bai Cha, who was holding a beautiful transparent vase filled with blooming pink roses, clearly brought back from yesterday’s class.

Bai Cha followed her gaze and saw Nan Ju smiling at her from the second floor, her eyes curved in amusement, showing no trace of embarrassment at being caught blatantly watching them.

At times like these, she truly was a shameless social butterfly.

Bai Cha sighed inwardly and nudged Bai Cong forward, still holding the vase as she headed upstairs. “She’s not my sister. Let’s go to the second floor—it’s not a good place to do homework here.”

Not her sister? Then why did Bai Cha live in this villa? Bai Cong was puzzled but decided not to ask just yet.

Upon reaching the second floor, the two came face to face with Nan Ju. Bai Cong nervously called out, “Miss Nan Ju.”

It was her first time visiting a classmate’s home, and with a little secret weighing on her heart, she was wrapped in a layer of unease, her fingers gripping the straps of her backpack tightly, her demeanor somewhat stiff.

“Hello there,” Nan Ju replied with a warm smile, glancing between Bai Cong and the composed Bai Cha, who was holding a vase. She found it odd—usually, kids would be excited when bringing friends over, so why did her little kitten seem so indifferent?

“Give me the flowers. Bai Cha, why don’t you take your friend to play? The screening room on the third floor has been cleaned—you can go up there.”

Only then did Bai Cha move, walking over to Nan Ju and handing her the vase. “Got it.”

The screening room was enormous, devoid of beds but casually—though not messily—furnished with several beanbag chairs. A soft woolen carpet stretched from the sofas to the projector, with a small table laden with snacks and fruit placed atop it.

Bai Cha set her homework and test papers on the table, sweeping the chips and snacks onto the carpet before sitting cross-legged.

“What movie do you want to watch?”

Her movements were brisk yet unhurried, and Bai Cong immediately realized her hope of sitting shoulder-to-shoulder doing homework together had been dashed.

Still, she was happy just being in the same space as Bai Cha—a strange, inexplicable feeling, much like how odd it was to be watching a movie together in this private screening room.

Mimicking Bai Cha’s posture, she sat somewhat stiffly beside the table, her backpack dropping onto the carpet. Her tone was cheerful as she asked, “I don’t know what to watch—could you pick for me?”

Bai Cha tossed the remote at her.

“Choose one yourself.”

In the end, Bai Cong picked a whimsical children’s cartoon, her eyes sparkling as she hugged a large bag of chips, occasionally popping one into her mouth with a satisfying crunch.

The chips had been forced upon her by Bai Cha, who—unruly to everyone but Nan Ju—couldn’t stand how Bai Cong sat ramrod straight with a serious expression, as if conducting academic research. It was a habit born from strict upbringing.

Squinting slightly as she swallowed the lemon-flavored chip, Bai Cong couldn’t help but ask a question.

“Bai Cha, you’re going to City No. 1 High School, right?”

With only two months left until the high school entrance exams, Bai Cong secretly hoped to attend the same school as Bai Cha. It was a desire she’d never felt before, one that had quietly taken root since their first meeting—this urge to stay by her side.

“No, I’m going to No. 2.”

The sound of a soda can being opened echoed in the screening room, followed by the fizzy pop of carbonation.

Bai Cong froze, her grip tightening on the chip bag, producing a sharp crinkling noise.

“But your grades are so good—why No. 2?”

“It’s closer to home.”

The room suddenly brightened. Bai Cha tilted her head, black hair cascading over her neck, fingers wrapped around a can of cola, her slender knuckles prominent. Her profile was serene, her gaze gentle.

Bai Cong found herself at a loss for words.

Her mother had always insisted she test into City No. 1 High School’s elite program.