I’m Allergic to Pheromones - Chapter 57

“Why should I take you? For a measly fifty bucks in pocket money?” Bai Cha tilted her head, pinning her phone between her ear and shoulder as she rummaged through her open wardrobe with both hands.

She had made plans with Tang Ou and Mo Chuiliu to visit the orphanage today, and they would be spending the entire day together.

This idea had been Mo Chuiliu’s suggestion. Ever since Bai Cha and Tang Ou had left the orphanage one after the other, this dim-witted girl—who had grown in height but not in brains—had become much more emotionally sensitive, calling Bai Cha every three days without fail.

If not for the fact that Mo Chuiliu had indeed helped her out a little when she left the orphanage, Bai Cha would have blocked her long ago.

The phone rested on the wardrobe shelf, and Nan Xing’s dissatisfied voice came through.

“Why can’t you take me? Aren’t I your dearest, most beloved partner-in-crime who copied homework with you and got punished standing together?”

Bai Cha pulled out a white T-shirt and a pair of loose straight-leg jeans. Glancing at the tightly drawn curtains, she walked back inside, replying, “No. And last time, it was you who insisted on copying my homework, got caught by the teacher, and dragged me into standing punishment with you.”

Her cold, emotionless tone instantly deflated Nan Xing, whose voice grew noticeably more sheepish.

“But didn’t I treat you to ice cream afterward to make up for it?”

Standing by the bed, Bai Cha crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her pajama top, and pulled it off in one swift motion. Her waist was slender and soft, her skin pale and smooth. She casually slipped on the T-shirt, then sat on the bed to change into the jeans before lazily walking over to pick up the phone she had set aside. Nan Xing’s voice immediately became clearer.

“Hey? Hey? Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah,” Bai Cha replied lazily before cutting straight to the point. “Weren’t you just talking about how you ‘treated’ me to ice cream but forgot your money and ended up swiping my meal card?”

Nan Xing was speechless.

She hadn’t done it on purpose. With only fifty yuan in weekly allowance—Nan Ju refused to give her a single cent more—her meal card was generously topped up, but Nan Xing had a habit of splurging on snacks and drinks, leaving her broke before the month’s end.

This method of curbing her spending had been agreed upon early on by Nan Ju and her stepmother, Wang Qing. Nan Xing had no one to complain to.

Compared to Bai Cha, she had it so much worse. Nan Xing had suspected more than once that she was picked up from a trash can—why else would she be so unloved?

“I’ll definitely remember my card next time,” Nan Xing persisted, refusing to give up even over the phone. “Just take me with you, please?”

Bai Cha gathered her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail, then grabbed a baseball cap from the dressing table and put it on, threading the ponytail through the cap’s back strap. The brim shadowed the upper half of her face.

Dressed like this, she looked a little like her old self—the girl who used to keep her eyes downcast, avoiding attention.

“No. I’m heading out now. Bye.” Bai Cha hung up coldly, then took off the cap and pulled out the hair tie, letting her fine, soft hair tumble loosely around her shoulders.

She tied her hair into a high ponytail, revealing a small face with delicate, well-defined features. Her eyes were clear and carried a hint of cool detachment. Below them, her prominent collarbones jutted out sharply, the white edge of her T-shirt clinging to them like elegant mountain ridges.

When stepping out, Bai Cha spotted Nan Ju painting under a tree in the crabapple grove, her wooden easel propped up. At home, Nan Ju always dressed casually—just loose-fitting light blue jeans and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing slender forearms.

Bai Cha approached and adjusted the slipping sleeve to prevent paint stains. “I’m going to meet Tang Ou and the others,” she said softly.

“Go ahead, have fun,” Nan Ju replied, pausing her brushstroke to trace a golden line—perhaps sunlight, perhaps a flower’s heart.

Suddenly, Bai Cha remembered a promise she’d made: to paint Nan Ju a picture with pink clouds. The delay had made her forget entirely.

“Teach me to paint when I return,” Bai Cha insisted, eyeing the vibrant pigments.

“Of course,” Nan Ju agreed. “It’s not difficult.”

Painting truly wasn’t hard—just a pleasant pastime requiring time and dedication. Like reading, it could calm the mind.

Content with this promise, Bai Cha left with her chest bag, her high ponytail bouncing defiantly with each step, full of vitality.

—

Returning to the orphanage felt strikingly different now.

The red brick walls remained heavy and aged, still topped with jagged green bottle shards glinting sharply in sunlight. The carambola tree had grown denser, its axillary blossoms forming irregular purple ribbons from afar.

Catching a faint fragrance, Bai Cha neared the wall. Clusters of small corymb flowers adorned the branches—crimson stems and buds densely packed, their petals lavender underneath with pink or white edges. Come fruiting season, the tree would be heavy with starfruit.

These orphanage carambolas were notoriously sour, barely edible without plum powder. Yet every harvest, children would excitedly gather, begging nuns for spare cloth to catch the falling fruit as others knocked them down with bamboo poles.

For the orphans, this was a cherished game—teams taking turns to dislodge as many intact fruits as possible in five minutes. Bai Cha remembered Mo Chuiliu always winning, her height and strength making the slender pole deadly effective.

What once felt like an unfeeling cage now surfaced memories not entirely unpleasant. Humans really do have a perverse streak, Bai Cha mused.

It being Sunday, children’s laughter spilled over the walls—likely from games of sandbag toss or hopscotch. Bai Cha walked along until reaching the half-open gate where a cool breeze lifted stray strands of her hair.

The threshold remained just as high as before. Bai Cha glanced at it and effortlessly stepped over. Before long, someone noticed her arrival.

She looked completely different from before—standing tall with her head held high, radiating energy. She’d grown slightly taller, though her expression remained cool and detached. Yet much of her former unapproachable aloofness had faded away.

Perhaps it was the dazzling sunlight, but Tang Ou couldn’t help feeling her friend seemed to glow with an almost radiant beauty.

“Bai Cha, you’re here!” Tang Ou suddenly dropped the broken tile in her hand, her skirt fluttering as she rushed forward to envelop the girl at the gate in a bear hug.

The slender girl nearly toppled backward from the impact.

Grabbing the doorframe to steady herself, Bai Cha sighed, “Slow down.”

“Hehehe, I’m just too excited!” Tang Ou giggled foolishly, arms tightly wrapped around her delicate, beautiful friend before belatedly noticing something unusual. “Bai Cha… you grew taller?”

They’d been the same height before, but after two months apart, Tang Ou found herself standing on tiptoes to hug her friend’s neck.

With a series of “thump thump thump” steps, Tang Ou released her and backed away, scrutinizing the figure before her with wide-eyed disbelief. “What the—”

“It’s normal to grow after differentiation. Not everyone can stay a tiny shrimp like you,” came Mo Chuiliu’s taunting voice as she walked past with a sandbag, her tone deliberately provoking.

Tang Ou puffed her cheeks in anger, shooting back, “At least I’m not like you—already differentiated but still dreaming of hitting two meters!”

Mo Chuiliu’s face darkened instantly, cycling through shades of pale and green before she fell silent.

After a long pause, the three girls sat solemnly beneath the carambola tree when Mo Chuiliu suddenly declared, “This is all because of your jinxing mouth last time.”

Bai Cha: “?”

After some thought, she finally recalled their previous conversation at the orphanage and rolled her eyes. “That’s your own biological destiny. Don’t blame me.”

Gender differentiation wasn’t something anyone could control. Who could have predicted Mo Chuiliu would actually present as an Omega?

Bai Cha stole several glances before remarking calmly, “At least you’re an Omega.”

Omegas typically developed delicate, graceful physiques—even male Omegas tended toward refined elegance that naturally inspired protectiveness. A pre-adult Omega like Mo Chuiliu standing at 170cm was practically unheard of.

Having already processed the initial shock when learning of Mo Chuiliu’s secondary gender, Bai Cha maintained her composure. On the bright side, even unusually tall Omegas could find partners—at least Mo Chuiliu wouldn’t need to worry about adoption prospects anymore.

Mo Chuiliu wore an expression of horrified disbelief, grinding her teeth as she lamented, “But my dream was to become a domineering Alpha warrior! Have you ever seen any other underage Omega taller than me? I’m only sixteen!”

Bai Cha: “…”

Tang Ou: “…”

Truthfully, they never had. Even Nan Ju’s proud 178cm stature had seemed like an insurmountable benchmark to Bai Cha.

But Nan Ju and Mo Chuiliu were completely different cases. Though tall, Nan Ju possessed a slender bone structure with perfectly proportioned curves, her striking features lending an air of natural elegance.

If Mo Chuiliu kept growing after differentiation, her only career path might be professional basketball.

The conversation reached a dead end here. Tang Ou, cradling her round little face, smoothed things over: “But that means lots of people must want to adopt you now, right? Momo can carefully choose an adopter you like, just like me—my adopter spoils me rotten.”

“That’s true,” Mo Chuiliuo quickly forgot her dissatisfaction about presenting as an Omega, her face lighting up with pride. “So many people want to adopt me now.”

“Once I pick an adopter this month, I’ll start school too. Then we can all take the same high school entrance exams together.”

Bai Cha and Tang Ou exchanged glances and agreed in unison: “Sounds good.”

They had all lived in this small, struggling orphanage, growing as freely as the wild grass in the courtyard. There had been moments of frustration and bitterness, but ultimately, each had embarked on their own hopeful new journey.