Is It Really That Hard to Be the Big Brother of Two Top-Alpha Twins? - Chapter 3

“I’ll give him a sedative first. He should wake up soon.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Jiang Ling picked up the tablet the young doctor had placed on the coffee table, his eyes spinning from the jumble of curved graphs on the screen. After a glance, he tossed it carelessly onto the bed, leaned against the doorframe, and opened a game on his terminal. “He’s not gonna die, right?”
“…”
The doctor was briefly speechless at Jiang Ling’s blunt tone. He put away the syringe and replied, “No immediate danger. But there are unidentified drug residues in his bloodstream. The initial diagnosis is glandular damage—he probably used a drug unsuitable for betas. It should metabolize completely within a week.”
“Drugs?”
Jiang Xun frowned, his gaze falling on the sleeping Chen Luan’s face.
“Ha.” Jiang Ling didn’t even look up from his game, fingers moving rapidly across the screen. “Sounds just like Zhou Jing and his spoiled second-gen crowd—playing wild like there’s no tomorrow. Guess if you can’t get pregnant, you think you can do whatever you want—”
“Jiang Ling.”
The cold tone cut through his rambling.
Jiang Ling froze, lips pressed tight. He said nothing more outrageous, slammed the door shut, and stormed back to his room.
Dr. He tidied up the medical instruments, stood, and said respectfully, “I’ve sent the relevant information and precautions to Young Master Chen Luan’s personal terminal. We’ll need a more detailed analysis of the drug composition once I return to the hospital. I’ll take my leave now.”
——
Meanwhile, Jiang Ling—who had just entered the holographic game pod—rolled his eyes the moment he saw Jiang Xun walk back from Chen Luan’s room.
“What? So, he can do whatever he wants, but no one’s allowed to talk about it? Ha, I didn’t think he had it in him. He usually acts like a quail.”
“Are you an idiot, Jiang Ling?”
Jiang Xun picked up Jiang Ling’s coat, which he’d thrown carelessly on the bed, and flung it back at his face. “He doesn’t have any scent of being marked. Can’t you smell that?”
The scent of pheromones left from mere proximity was entirely different from the scent that lingered after intimacy.
Even betas, who cannot be marked, would still carry traces of another’s pheromones for at least two days after such contact.
Jiang Ling: “…”
He looked away, mumbling under his breath, “I’m usually too annoyed just looking at him—who’d bother noticing whether he’s been marked or not?”
Jiang Xun ignored him, sitting back down to continue reading his thesis. “Anyway, mind your words these next few days. Whether the old man gets re-elected depends on next Thursday’s referendum. If someone uses you to stir up trouble, do you really want another round of family discipline?”
At the mention of family discipline, Jiang Ling visibly shuddered—as though scarred by the memory.
“Alright, alright, I get it. He only adopted Chen Luan to win votes from the beta-equality crowd anyway, didn’t he?” Jiang Ling grabbed a cushion and hurled it at Jiang Xun, who was calmly flipping through papers and taking notes.
“…Hey, could you stop pretending to be the model student? You’re ruining my gaming vibe.”
“Fine, keep playing,” Jiang Xun replied mildly, closing his holographic screen. “I’ll just go to the mecha experience class at the Federal Military Academy alone next week.”
“I’m done. Goodnight.”
Jiang Ling: “?”
Jiang Ling: “???”
“Wait—what?!”
He threw off his gaming helmet, jumped onto the bed, and grabbed Jiang Xun by the collar.
“Jiang Xun!!! What mecha experience class?! Why didn’t I know about this?! Get up and explain—right now!”
“The school is holding a mecha knowledge competition tomorrow. The top ten will get to pilot mechas at the Federal Military Academy.”
Jiang Xun kicked Jiang Ling off his bed, rolled over, and closed his eyes.
“Aaaaah! I don’t remember this at all!” Jiang Ling scrambled up, screaming in despair. “Is it too late to prepare now!?”
“Yesterday, when the teacher announced it, you were sleeping on your desk,” Jiang Xun said, resting his head on his arm as he calmly watched Jiang Ling crawl around on the floor in a frenzy. “You were sleeping soundly.”
Jiang Ling: “…”
Jiang Ling: “I don’t care—let me see your thesis notes!”
“Shut up, and let go of my leg. I already sent them to your email.”
“!!!”
Meanwhile—
Chen Luan, who had been unconscious for a long time, slept until dawn.
Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for five minutes, he finally realized where he was. He had transmigrated more than two hundred years into the future, had only three thousand yuan left on his card, and had apparently fallen asleep in the car. Then…
Who took him back to his room?
Chen Luan got up, rubbed his sore neck, and looked around.
Jiang Luan’s room wasn’t sparsely furnished. Aside from a few slightly worn books on the desk and a mecha model on the bookshelf, the rest of the items were neat and impersonal—like a hotel suite, devoid of anything sentimental or personal.
There was a photo on the bedside table: a thin young Jiang Luan wearing a baggy school uniform, lips pressed tightly together, being embraced by a handsome man in work clothes. The two looked somewhat alike—Chen Luan guessed the man was Jiang Luan’s biological father, Chen Duan.
The background showed a cluttered field with piles of old mechanical parts.
The wardrobe was equally uninteresting—filled only with school uniforms, shirts, and dress pants.
After rummaging for a while, Chen Luan finally found a plain T-shirt and a pair of work shorts tucked away in a corner.
He took a hot shower, changed, and then pulled his phone out from the messy bedding.
“Buzz—”
[You have a new email: He Wenlang — Drug Component Analysis Report]
Chen Luan: What drug analysis?
Opening the email with a puzzled look, he noticed another message above it—a medical report.
“Drug residue in the bl00d…”
“Temporary gland damage… hormonal imbalance leading to coma.”
“It is recommended to drink plenty of water and urinate frequently, and have a bl00d test in a week.”
After reading it quickly, Chen Luan belatedly touched the back of his neck, which throbbed faintly.
It felt like there was another heart there, beating with his pulse—thump, thump.
Right. He was now a 21-year-old beta with a completely undeveloped gland.
Not the 28-year-old Chen Luan from two hundred years ago who had never undergone secondary gender differentiation.
Chen Luan, the mecha instructor from the S17 underground base, had already died in the winter of 2704.
That winter, there had been only one year left until Victory Day.
Chen Luan stared blankly at his hands—no calluses. His arms—no scars, old or new.
After a long silence, he covered his eyes with his forearm and slumped back onto the bed, dazed.
Then he thought of Zhou Pei—the person he was supposed to have dinner with.
No wonder Zhou Pei had been so eager to apologize for his bastard brother.
He probably already knew Jiang Luan had been drugged by that little brat, right?
Chen Luan sat up and opened the drug analysis report.
The last line read:
“The main component of this drug acts on the glands of developing and mature ova, inducing premature heat and inhibiting sperm implantation.
(Note: Contraindicated for alphas and betas. Overdose may cause permanent gland damage, and in severe cases, shock or even death.)
Chen Luan stared at the line, then suddenly chuckled.
Only then did he realize—
In this era, same-s3x marriage and even childbirth were legal.
And Jiang Luan—or rather, the current Chen Luan—was probably being targeted by a gay man.
“Young Master Chen, it’s time for breakfast.”
came a gentle knock on the door.
Chen Luan composed himself and went downstairs.
Since things had come to this, he might as well eat first.
Director Jiang was often away, and Madam Jiang’s health had always been poor—she lived alone in a small house in the backyard.
So only Jiang Xun, Jiang Ling, and Chen Luan sat at the table.
The twins were in their school uniforms, making Chen Luan, dressed casually, look slightly out of place.
Breakfast consisted of beef bone and ginseng chicken soup, shumai, stir-fried asparagus, and a small bowl of rice.
Jiang Xun and Jiang Ling had already started eating without waiting for him.
Chen Luan didn’t mind. Rubbing his messy hair, he stood at the top of the stairs and waved to the brothers:
“Good morning.”
Jiang Xun paused slightly but ignored him.
Jiang Ling, however, widened his eyes as if he’d seen a ghost.
For years, Jiang Luan had always come downstairs silently, eaten quietly, and left without a word.
What was up with him today?
Just as Jiang Ling was about to nudge his brother, Chen Luan casually sat down across from them and said,
“Did you call the doctor last night when you took me back to my room? Thanks—I’ll pay you the consultation fee.”
Jiang Ling: “?”
Jiang Ling: “Are you sick, Chen Luan? The family doctor was always paid for by the Jiangs. Why would you pay me?”
“Then, thank you for taking me back last night?”
Jiang Ling frowned. “Old Zhang, the driver, carried you back. You should thank him.”
But then Chen Luan suddenly leaned closer—a faint scent of soap wafted into Jiang Ling’s nose.
Startled, Jiang Ling pushed him away. “What are you doing?! Are you sick?!”
Chen Luan raised a finger and tapped his eye. “Didn’t sleep well last night, kid? You’re so cranky.”
The young man leaned lazily against his chair, long fingers brushing his delicate features, exuding a subtle, effortless charm.
Thinking of how late he’d stayed up memorizing notes, Jiang Ling wiped his face. “Mind your own business! Why are you talking so much today? You’re so annoying. And who are you calling ‘kid’?!”
Why was this person so irritating today? I preferred him silent like before!
Clatter.
Jiang Xun put down his chopsticks and glanced at his watch. “I’m full.”
His gaze flicked to Jiang Ling’s half-eaten breakfast, then to his flushed face.
“We’re going to be late.”
Jiang Ling: “…”
Jiang Ling: “Damn it! I’m not eating anymore!”
He grabbed his schoolbag and angrily dragged Jiang Xun out.
Chen Luan watched the two siblings bicker their way out, then stretched and began eating his breakfast.
Having lived through wartime scarcity, he had only ever tasted synthetic, chicken-flavored nutritional paste.
So now, facing a real meal—the kind he’d only ever seen in textbooks—Chen Luan ate with reverence.
Soon, the massive Jiang mansion was quiet again, with only Chen Luan left.
Servants came and went but never spoke to him; they merely bowed politely and addressed him as “Young Master Chen.”
It seemed this household had never truly considered him one of their own.
Even though outsiders called him “Jiang Luan,” within the Jiang mansion, he was always that lucky commoner beta who had climbed his way up.
Still, Chen Luan didn’t mind the peace.
He rolled around in the small garden behind the mansion.
The scent of grass fascinated him, and the lush green of the Cistanche deserticola—a color nearly extinct on the barren wartime lands—was a delight to the eyes.
Chen Luan spent the whole day wandering the Jiang estate, touching and examining everything as if it were a treasure.
The Jiang estate had it all—a vast lawn, swimming pool, garden, and even a horse farm, in addition to the main villa and Madam Jiang’s small house.
Several elegant horses were kept there, and among them, the black and white pair in the eastern stable were the most striking.
The stablehand followed closely behind, puzzled by why this usually reclusive young master had suddenly decided to visit the horses today.
He kept a careful eye, afraid Chen Luan might accidentally upset the twins’ prized mounts.
But Chen Luan merely took a quick look and left, as if taking a post-meal stroll.
By the time night fell, he had fallen asleep on the lawn watching the sunset—only to be awakened by the ringing of his phone.
Half-asleep, he almost turned it off like an alarm clock. It took him several seconds to recognize the voice on the other end.
It was Zhou Pei.
“Hello? Jiang Luan? Are you listening?”
Chen Luan got up, brushed off the grass, stretched, and started walking back, his voice still heavy with sleep.
“Mm… what is it?”
The person on the other end fell silent for half a second.
“Is there… anything else bothering you?”