My Alpha Has a Split Personality - Chapter 26

Chi Yunhan really couldn’t grasp the logical connection between smelly pheromones and one’s character. Was it like in novels where all the ugly ones were villains?

 

However, Chi Yunhan caught a whiff of something very different and peculiar.

 

She leaned forward slightly, sniffing at Jiang Muning. “I notice you smell a bit sour.”

 

Jiang Muning frowned. The suit jacket was draped over her lap, and she picked it up to sniff it before saying seriously, “No, I don’t.”

 

“Smell again, really carefully,” Chi Yunhan teased, feeling an inexplicable thrill, especially watching Jiang Muning so earnestly inspecting her clothes. She wished she could preserve this moment forever.

 

Jiang Muning turned the jacket inside out, even lifting the collar of her shirt to sniff downward.

 

Oh dear, oh dear.

 

Chi Yunhan’s nose nearly bled at the sight of those undulating curves. Pinching her nose, she whispered, “I meant the kind of sourness—like jealousy.”

 

This time, Jiang Muning caught on. She placed the jacket back on her lap and said calmly, “I don’t get jealous, and I don’t like sour things.”

 

“Oh… Then where’s that smell coming from?”

 

Chi Yunhan tilted her head, eyes darting around with exaggerated confusion. She shifted forward, leaning against the back of the driver’s seat. “Must be from the secretary then.”

 

Just as she was about to sniff, the secretary abruptly pushed the car door open and bolted out, declaring, “My pheromones are odorless!”

 

Chi Yunhan burst out laughing. “The secretary’s an Alpha, isn’t she?” She turned to study Jiang Muning intently. “Really not jealous?”

 

“No, I never get jealous,” Jiang Muning replied stiffly, her tone cool. “Any other questions?”

 

“Nope. We’re here—I should head back to the office.” Chi Yunhan opened the car door and stepped out but didn’t move forward. She lingered by the door. “Actually, there’s nothing urgent. Want to take a walk together?”

 

After a brief silence, Jiang Muning got out of the car. She exchanged a few words with the secretary before strolling leisurely with Chi Yunhan.

 

Pedestrians around them wilted under the heat, shielding themselves with umbrellas, but the two of them seemed unfazed, wandering aimlessly near the fountain under the scorching sun.

 

The commercial district was bustling with shops now. Their company was tucked away in a quieter corner, but after PFE set up a flagship store nearby, other businesses had flocked to the area.

 

As they walked, Chi Yunhan suddenly said, “I think I mentioned this before—that guy is my sister’s fiancé. He and my sister used to bully me together. He’s not an ex, just a former friend at best. Before Xiang Yuan came along, he was the one I hung out with.”

 

“…Oh.” Jiang Muning stuffed her hands into her pockets. “He’s no good. Always staring at you with those dirty eyes, clearly up to something. You should be careful.”

 

Despite the concern, her words came out rigid. Chi Yunhan chuckled. “You’ve said that before, haven’t you?”

 

“Hm?” Jiang Muning glanced up, thinking for a few seconds. “Yes, I have.”

 

Since she didn’t remember, Chi Yunhan skipped the topic. “The secretary said you performed a piece at the police station. What did you play?”

 

“A suona,” Chi Yunhan replied, pulling a golden suona from her bag and twirling it between her fingers.

 

Most girls nowadays played more elegant instruments, so Jiang Muning was curious.

 

Chi Yunhan explained, “Back in elementary school, there was a performance requirement, and parents had to buy instruments for their kids.”

 

“Hmm, so you learned the suona?” Jiang Muning tried to picture it—Chi Yunhan standing among a group of children, blowing into the suona. The image was oddly lively, or to put it more vividly… cute.

 

But Chi Yunhan shook her head. “No, the original rule was to learn the violin. The teacher insisted, and if we didn’t have one, we had to rent it. I really didn’t want to participate, but my teacher was kind to me. She wanted me to join class activities and interact more with my classmates, so she called my parents to arrange a violin rental.”

 

At this point, Jiang Muning pressed her lips together.

 

Chi Yunhan sighed, rubbing the suona with her fingertips. “But my parents only pretended to agree. On the day of the performance, they handed me a suona—not even this kind, but a plastic one, bright red, like a toy trumpet for toddlers.”

 

Little Chi Yunhan stood on stage, bewildered, staring at the ridiculous toy in its gift box, tears welling up. The other children around her burst into laughter, some even running over to gawk.

 

“Look, it even has a bow on it! How ridiculous! We’re supposed to be playing violins—Bach’s Chaconne!”

 

“Ugh, why is Chi Yunhan always like this? Can’t she pick a better time to mess around? Does she want to embarrass our whole class on stage?”

 

“Her sister is in Class 1 next door, the top student. She just performed ballet—it was so graceful. How come the sister is so lovely, but the younger one is so gross? She better not stand near me later.”

 

The complaints reached the parents, who then complained to the teacher, insisting that one student shouldn’t ruin the carefully prepared performance.

 

Even when the teacher offered to find her a proper violin, the protests continued.

 

Chi Yunhan kept shrinking back, trying to hide, but she was eventually dragged out. Standing there, dazed, she looked into the audience and saw only Chi’s Mom sneering at her. The woman strode over, cold and stern, forcing her to apologize to the entire class.

 

Chi Yunhan bit her lip, refusing to speak, and ran off the stage.

 

With nowhere else to go, she clutched the suona, climbed over the school wall, and fled. Later, the school’s surveillance cameras caught her, and during the closing awards ceremony, the principal called her onto the stage for a public reprimand.

 

“Chi Yunhan from Class 7, Grade 5, violated school regulations by climbing over the wall and running away during the performance…”

 

The farce dragged on, and Chi Yunhan became the school’s infamous “celebrity.”

 

At first, a few sympathetic classmates tried talking to her, but as time passed, she became the odd one out—someone no one wanted to be around.

 

In every class, there are always a few well-known figures, and Chi Yunhan was one of them. People loved to joke about her: “Hey, xxx, Chi Yunhan likes you—she’s staring at you,” “Hahaha, you lost the dare—go kiss Chi Yunhan,” “I didn’t write down many names for today’s class discipline, so I’ll just jot down Chi Yunhan’s to satisfy the teacher. Don’t thank me too much, everyone,” “Chi Yunhan, why do you talk so much? You’re the only one chattering in class. Look how long you’ve been the class pest now…”

 

Bullying her became second nature.

 

Chi Yunhan only told Jiang Muning about the little suona incident. She didn’t mention what happened afterward—it had been so long, and she didn’t want to dig up those memories.

 

Jiang Muning asked her, “Then why do you still like the suona?”

 

Under normal circumstances, after such humiliation, one would never want to see a suona again—it would become a lifelong shadow.

 

Chi Yunhan picked up the suona, blew into it lightly, and said, “This was the first toy I ever had in my life. Why would I throw it away?”

 

“I’m a tough person. Besides, that little suona was actually pretty fun. I found some sheet music and would play it in my free time. Even though the notes weren’t perfect, I could play with it for hours. Later, when I had money, I bought myself a proper suona. It was surprisingly easy to learn, and I got the hang of it quickly.”

 

She laughed again. “Honestly, I even made some money off it. I did a few days of part-time gigs, and everyone who heard me said it sounded great.”

 

Jiang Muning gave a quiet “Mm” and walked a few steps, escorting Chi Yunhan to her company’s entrance. As Chi Yunhan packed the suona back into its case, Jiang Muning remarked, “…The suona is a national treasure, full of cultural charm.”

 

Chi Yunhan nodded. “Yeah, it’s just not very appropriate to play casually, and I’m not that good at it either…”

 

Jiang Muning said, “Don’t sell yourself short. If you like it, you should play it more.”

 

“It’s really not what you think. The main issue is that the music is usually played for the dea—”

 

Before she could finish the word “dead,” Jiang Muning had already turned away, not giving her time to explain.

 

Huh. Jiang Muning was acting a little strange today.

 

Puzzled, Chi Yunhan tucked the suona into her bag and noticed the two unused bottles of perfume. A new question arose: Jiang Muning had given her perfume—what should she give Jiang Muning in return?

 

She took out one of the bottles and sniffed it.

 

Chi Yunhan rarely used perfume, for a simple reason: she always fixated on the flaws in fragrances, which made it hard for her to truly enjoy them.

 

This time, she set aside her usual mindset and took a deep breath.

 

It smelled amazing.

 

In this world, aside from food, perhaps nothing was as fragrant as perfume.

 

Back in the office, Chi Yunhan went straight to the restroom and spritzed some perfume behind her ears and on her wrists before putting the bottle back in her bag.

 

By midday, the office gossip about Chi Yurong had taken a nosedive. In contrast, her colleagues’ attitudes toward Chi Yunhan had warmed considerably. When they caught the scent on her, they exclaimed in surprise, “Team leader, your pheromones smell so nice! This is the first time I’ve noticed—what a pleasant surprise!”

 

Chi Yunhan felt a little embarrassed. “Oh, I just sprayed on some perfume. It’s the perfume that smells good, that’s all.”

 

Sitting at her desk, she doodled on her computer, then lifted her sleeve to take another whiff. It really was lovely—she adored the scent.

 

After savoring it for a while, she sent Jiang Muning a message.

 

“Thanks for the perfume, I really like it. Is there anything you like?”

 

Jiang Muning hadn’t gone back yet. After about ten minutes, her status changed several times before she replied: “There’s nothing I particularly like.”

 

Chi Yunhan pondered this—wasn’t this the legendary “whatever” response? Every time you ask your girlfriend what she likes, wants, or feels like eating, she always says “whatever,” but when you actually give her something, it’s never quite right.

 

Ah, so difficult to handle.

 

Chi Yunhan tilted her head and chatted with a colleague nearby, asking what they would give their girlfriends, hoping to copy some ideas.

 

The colleague beside her blushed with indignation: “Hate to say it, but I’m single!”

 

A male colleague who could answer the question said, “That’s easy—perfume, bags, clothes, makeup… I’m telling you, no girlfriend can resist these temptations. The only problem is they’re too expensive.”

 

Would Jiang Muning like any of these?

 

Chi Yunhan recalled the time she had worn Jiang Muning’s shirt but forgot to ask about the brand. Otherwise, she could have bought a new set for her.

 

She’d have to check when she got home that night.

 

Chi Yunhan: “Really nothing you especially want?”

 

Jiang Muning: “I’d like to attend a concert.”

 

Chi Yunhan quickly searched for upcoming concerts—cultivating some musical appreciation wouldn’t be bad. But then Jiang Muning sent a few more words: “A suona concert.”

 

“…”

 

A suona concert? That would require someone to die first.

 

…

 

Jiang Muning was really a strange person.

 

Chi Yunhan stared at her computer for a long time.

 

But being strange was good—it meant she was simple, it meant she was adorable.

 

Chi Yunhan couldn’t help but feel happy again.

 

On the other side, Jiang Muning had just arrived at the company. She had been looking down at her phone the whole time, and it was only when her secretary reminded her, “President Jiang, watch out for the wall,” that she looked up.

 

Her nose was just a millimeter away from the wall.

 

Jiang Muning gave a quiet acknowledgment and stepped back, turning around—only to come face-to-face with five or six people. The elevator entrance was packed, and everyone hesitated.

 

Should they really get in the elevator with her?

 

Looking at the executive’s icy expression, they silently lowered their heads. Wouldn’t waiting for the next elevator be better? Why squeeze in with the CEO? Did they have a death wish?

 

Under their collective gaze, inside the glass elevator, their CEO showed no sign of embarrassment. She kept her head down, focused on her phone, working seriously and solemnly—her mental fortitude was truly impressive.

 

If it were me, I’d be dying of embarrassment. She really is someone who does great things!

 

When she reached her office floor, Jiang Muning paused for a moment, tucking the hair behind her ear forward to cover her bright red ears. She then slipped her phone into her pocket and calmly pushed open her office door.

 

These days, Jiang Muning had been coming to the office less often, handling documents from the hospital instead. A pile of unfinished work had accumulated on her desk. She skimmed through it casually and asked, “How are things on that end?”

 

“They’re all calling for your impeachment now, saying you’re autocratic and arbitrary—that changing the perfume theme without the board’s approval will upset consumers.” The secretary reported while pressing the button to turn on the projector, displaying dense rows of data.

 

“You’ve been on the hot search three times recently, with a lot of negative comments. The official blog is flooded with malicious remarks targeting you by name. However, according to PR, most of them are paid trolls from competitors, so you don’t need to worry too much.”

 

Jiang Muning looked at her with calm eyes, like a tranquil pool, her expression seeming to say, “Do I look like I care?” The secretary felt the question was somewhat redundant.

 

“How’s the situation in the fragrance lab?”

 

“The technical requirements of the formula you provided are quite high. The perfumers are still experimenting, but so far, there hasn’t been any recurrence of the foul odor reaction. According to their feedback, it’s a promising fragrance. They’re doing their best to perfect it, striving for the most flawless state before sending it to you for testing.”

 

Jiang Muning gave a slight hum, not looking at the projector but keeping her gaze fixed on the secretary.

 

Wondering if she had missed anything, the secretary rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a notebook, scanning through the items one by one. Then, she placed several colored sheets of paper on the table and said, “These are the property layouts I found for you, ranging from 600 to 500 square meters. There’s one thing I should mention—between the two companies, it’s all commercial shops and development properties. I couldn’t find any villas. These are all located along the extended line from your central point.”

 

Of course, the thoughtful secretary hadn’t just looked for villas but also found some apartment units between 200 to 300 square meters, which were also quite suitable for living.

 

Jiang Muning examined each one carefully, showing a preference for the villas. Pointing at one, she said, “This one—make sure the practice room and music room are well-decorated.”

 

“Huh?” The secretary asked in confusion, “Are you planning to move the piano there, or should I order a new one for you?”

 

Jiang Muning replied, “Not for me. It’s for Chi Yunhan.”

 

“Understood,” the secretary noted silently. “When do you need the place ready? I’ll handle the handover for you.”

 

“As soon as possible,” Jiang Muning said. “Make sure the interior is fully furnished, especially here and here—everything inside should be stocked.”

 

The secretary glanced over the list—walk-in closets, jewelry boxes—filling all of these would undoubtedly cost a fortune. She couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “President Jiang, you’ve really gone into full spendthrift mode. Splurging too much might blow your cover.”

 

“Hmm?” Jiang Muning tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean you’re spending wisely!”

 

…

 

For the past two days, Chi Yunhan had finally enjoyed some peace. Initially, her parents had called and texted her, but she blocked them all. When they later tried to cause a scene at the company, the security guards wouldn’t even let them in.

 

The reason was simple. News about the formula had reached the company’s higher-ups, and everyone was talking about it with vivid details. To save herself, Chi Yurong also insisted that she had used Chi Yunhan’s formula, leaving the company in a dilemma.

 

A good formula was far more valuable than a perfumer. With the right formula, any perfumer could be found. For now, it was only known internally that Chi Yurong had used a ghostwriter, but if this got out, the company would have to take a stance, and it might even affect sales.

 

After much deliberation, the higher-ups summoned Chi Yunhan to the meeting room, all smiling at her warmly. “Yunhan, we heard your sister’s perfume formulas were all taken from you,” one of them said.

 

Chi Yunhan repeated what she had told everyone before: “Winter Love Song wasn’t.”

 

“Right,” the leading executive—the fragrance lab director—nodded with a smile. A bespectacled, seemingly refined man, Chi Yunhan had met him a few times before. He had always favored Chi Yurong, and aside from the formula, his support was a key reason Chi Yurong had become the chief perfumer.

 

He clasped his hands together, his earnest demeanor making him seem more like a manager than a director. He said, “Here’s the thing—we will definitely give you a fair resolution. We won’t be hiring your sister again, and the company will issue a statement announcing her dismissal.”

 

“That’s great. Thank you for being so fair,” Chi Yunhan replied with a smile, though she remained guarded, careful not to say a word more than necessary.

 

The director continued, “Earlier, I heard from your sister that you also wanted to become a perfumer, is that right?”

 

It was common knowledge throughout the company—no one was unaware, surely?

 

Chi Yunhan nodded. “Yes.”

 

“The national regulations prohibit Omegas from working as perfumers. For that, we sincerely apologize.” The director lowered his voice, sounding genuinely remorseful. The other executives looked at Chi Yunhan with expressions of pity.

 

Chi Yunhan clenched her hands, feeling no comfort at all—only discomfort. Every cell in her body screamed in protest. She forced a tight smile. “I… yes, I know. Was there anything else?”

 

The director smiled. “Actually, although you can’t be a perfumer, you could join the company as a fragrance consultant. We’d like to hire you as our chief consultant. What do you think?”

 

Chi Yunhan looked up at him, stunned.

 

The director slid a document toward her and gestured for her to sit. His amiable attitude only made her more uneasy. “I don’t discriminate based on secondary gender,” he said. “Just like when we hired you before, I believe being an Omega doesn’t matter as long as you’re diligent and hardworking.”

 

That much was true. Perfume companies rarely hired Omega employees—even for janitorial positions, they were ruthlessly screened out, with gender restrictions strictly enforced. Back then, Chi Yunhan had applied to over a dozen companies, big and small, but only Dai Lan had kept her resume.

 

The director smiled warmly. “You might not remember, but I was one of the interviewers back then. I’ve always admired hardworking talent.”

 

“Thank you,” Chi Yunhan murmured, feeling the contract in her hands grow heavy. She licked her lips and flipped through a page. The director handed her a pen. “Take your time reading it. There’s no rush.”

 

The first two pages of the contract outlined the salary. In the perfume industry, if roles were ranked, designers were just above janitors—the lowest tier. The company released only one fragrance per month, so the design department usually had little to do. Many companies outsourced bottle designs to cut costs.

 

Their company was slightly larger, with its own design department, but their work wasn’t limited to in-house projects—they often collaborated with external firms as well.

 

Most people assumed designing perfume bottles was simple—just slap on a square or, at worst, a circle, and the draft would pass easily.

 

To that, designers could only scoff.

 

The contract clearly stated a base salary of 20,000 per month for the consultant position. Seeing such a figure, Chi Yunhan’s mind exploded with fireworks—she felt like she’d reached the pinnacle of her life.

 

On top of the base pay, there were sales commissions. If she pushed herself, she could earn over 30,000 a month. Multiply that by twelve, and she’d make 360,000 a year.

 

Holy sh1t. Holy fucking sh1t!

 

With the additional one million Jiang Muning gave her, they could buy a house! Owning a home meant they could live happily ever after—maybe even raise cats and dogs, perhaps even a child… Oh my, what a heavenly life that would be.

 

Chi Yunhan daydreamed blissfully, thinking she’d take a photo later to show Jiang Muning. Since Jiang Muning was well-read, she could help analyze it and share in the joy.

 

However, when she turned to the next page, Chi Yunhan’s fingers paused. There was a line of red text on the contract, glaringly obvious—the company hadn’t tried to hide it.

 

Pointing at the line, Chi Yunhan asked, “What does this mean—’No use of the formulator’s name in promotions, with all formulations belonging to the company’?”

 

The director said, “You’re aware of the current situation. If we put your name on it and promote it heavily, our company will have to undergo a national investigation. Producing ‘drug-type perfumes’ is illegal.”

 

“But I don’t blend perfumes. I only provide guidance. Can’t I even have my name on it?” Chi Yunhan asked.

 

“But you…” The director lowered his voice, “But you’re on the blacklist in the perfume industry. The punishment you received back then was a lifetime ban from the profession. We’ve already done our best to advocate for you.”

 

The words felt like a knife stabbing into Chi Yunhan’s chest. She clenched her pen tightly as the director looked at her apologetically. “I wanted to fight for you, but national regulations must be followed. We can’t break the law—we have to be responsible to consumers and society as a whole.”

 

“You can take your time to think about it. There’s no rush.” The director considerately placed the documents in a kraft paper envelope, wrapped the string around it twice, and handed it to her. “I look forward to seeing you in the perfume lab. You’ll be the first Omega to work with perfumes.”

 

Chi Yunhan pressed her lips together, her mind in turmoil. She bit her lip again, exhaling shakily as her fingers trembled while taking the envelope. On one side was a beautiful dream; on the other, the humiliation of gender discrimination.

 

Could Omegas really never become perfumers?

 

…

 

Chi Yunhan returned to the office with the sealed envelope, her spirits completely drained. Her colleagues couldn’t understand why she seemed so unhappy about what should have been a promotion.

 

This was something she could only share with someone in the same situation. Telling others would just make it seem like she was bragging, so she hesitated to bring it up.

 

She had planned to look for Lu Xiangyuan, but since Lu Xiangyuan had taken leave last time, she still hadn’t returned to work.

 

Feeling too stifled, Chi Yunhan decided to leave work early and visit Lu Xiangyuan at home. On the way, she messaged her, first explaining her own situation.

 

It wasn’t Chi Yunhan’s first time visiting Lu Xiangyuan’s place. She bought some duck wings and necks as snacks and a few bottles of beer at the entrance of the residential complex. Worried it might not be enough, she also ordered some fried chicken.

 

Lu Xiangyuan lived in a remote area, quieter than where Chi Yunhan stayed. She took the elevator up and rang the doorbell for a while before Lu Xiangyuan finally came to open the door.

 

The moment the door opened, Chi Yunhan took a step back, startled by Lu Xiangyuan’s disheveled appearance. “What on earth have you been doing at home?”

 

Lu Xiangyuan’s hair was a mess, and she was wearing pajamas—one side tucked into her pants while the other hung loose, the collar slipping off her shoulder. She scratched her head and sighed. “Come in, come in. I’ve been living day and night in reverse these past few days. I was just sleeping.”

 

Lu Xiangyuan only rented a one-bedroom apartment. She wasn’t much of a cook, so a dorm-style hot pot and an electric griddle were enough for her to get by.

 

Fortunately, the place wasn’t too messy. Chi Yunhan helped her tidy up, and the two set up a small table on the floor, sitting on a yoga mat to eat. Just then, the fried chicken arrived. Lu Xiangyuan nudged Chi Yunhan to go get it while she peeked out from behind the bedroom door.

 

“What’s with you? You’re acting so weird.” Chi Yunhan noticed she had been acting strangely lately, even taking days off to feign illness and skip work. Back in the day, they had both been idealistic corporate drones.

 

“It’s nothing much.” Lu Xiangyuan took the items from her hands and asked, “What are you thinking about the company’s offer? You’re not planning to sign, are you?”

 

“I’m still considering it.”

 

For Chi Yunhan, this was indeed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but…

 

Lu Xiangyuan said, “If you sign this contract, you’ll become a ghostwriter for all the perfumers in the company—just a tool, only responsible for providing ideas. Any perfumes released afterward will have nothing to do with you.”

 

“Right.” Chi Yunhan opened a bottle of wine and took several gulps before even touching the dishes. “But if I miss this opportunity, there won’t be another. I’m afraid I’ll regret it later, afraid that after struggling for years, I’ll still just be a designer, barely scraping by on a few thousand a month, crushed by life—and then I’ll regret today’s decision.”

 

She desperately wished she could peer into the future, to see what lay ahead, to know what her life would be like years from now.

 

Life always finds countless ways to make you bow your head. Chi Yunhan had already drunk half the bottle when Lu Xiangyuan tore off a chicken leg for her. “Don’t drink so fast. You still have leverage to negotiate with the company. Have you discussed this with Jiang Muning? Listen, don’t make a rash decision—you have to talk to Jiang Muning, understand?”

 

Chi Yunhan was puzzled by her urgent tone. “Why?”

 

“Because she’s PFE’s quality inspector. If she talks to Twilight, you might actually get into PFE,” Lu Xiangyuan said.

 

“But PFE doesn’t accept Omegas,” Chi Yunhan replied, though her mind couldn’t help but wander. “If I could get in, I’d be the first Omega in PFE—the first Omega perfumer in history! Hahahaha!”

 

After laughing, reality set in, and she sighed. “If only that day would come. Then Jiang Muning and I could commute to work together. We’re getting along much better now—she doesn’t tell me to stay away like before. Progress.”

 

Finding solace in small comforts, Lu Xiangyuan, worried she might do something reckless, added, “And don’t forget—you’re her Omega. She’s your wife. If you don’t tell her about this decision, it could cause problems in your marriage later.”

 

Lu Xiangyuan had her own burdens, sighing as she said, “Back then, my ex and I both pretended, acted so perfect—until the truth came out, and it was a mess.”

 

Since Lu Xiangyuan hadn’t been working and just stayed home all day, Chi Yunhan could guess a little. “Are you afraid your ex will find you? What really happened between you two?”

 

Lu Xiangyuan pursed her lips, took another drink, and suddenly said, “I want to move abroad.”

 

The statement was so abrupt that Chi Yunhan was stunned. “Why would you go abroad? You don’t even speak the language!”

 

Lu Xiangyuan sighed repeatedly. “I haven’t been eating or sleeping well these past few days. There’s only one thing on my mind—my ex is coming. She’s looking for me.”

 

“You’re already broken up. There’s no need to stay in touch. What, do you still have feelings for her?” Chi Yunhan had no relationship experience, but she knew that after a breakup, people went their separate ways—only those who couldn’t let go would fear running into their ex again.

 

“That person… how do I put it? She’s insane.” Lu Xiangyuan slumped, taking another drink. She hadn’t planned to say anything, but the pain in her chest was unbearable. “The first time I tried to break up with her, she handcuffed me for three days—so I stayed. The second time, when I was about to bring it up, she found out and locked me in a villa for three weeks. And then…”

 

“Then you failed again, and the third time she locked you up for three years?” Chi Yunhan picked up the thread, but Lu Xiangyuan shook her head. “No, not three years. I escaped after three months. All these years, I’ve been living under a false name…”

 

“You’ve been living under a false name? Wait, isn’t your name Lu Xiangyuan?” Chi Yunhan seized the key point—this sister of hers had a complicated background!

 

Lu Xiangyuan hurriedly clarified, “It’s just an example, just an example. After I ran away, I once saw her telling a reporter—smiling, no less—that if she ever caught me, she’d lock me up for thirty years.”

 

Thirty years—gone, just like that. It was indeed terrifying. Chi Yunhan shivered. “Then… then the first time she asked if you wanted to break up, why didn’t you? Maybe things would’ve been different if you had.”

 

“Back then…” Lu Xiangyuan hesitated, taking a few more gulps from the bottle, her face flushing red. “Those three days happened to be my heat cycle. We… you know… for three days. I was young back then, a bit… greedy. It felt so… I just couldn’t bring myself to break up. But who knew… later…”

 

As she spoke, she burst into tears, clinging to Chi Yunhan’s shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. “Do you understand? Do you? Our compatibility score was negative. Do you know how negative? Negative one hundred!”

 

“…”

 

Chi Yunhan only knew that a compatibility score of one hundred meant a Fated Match—two people who’d set the world ablaze the moment they met, unable to tear themselves apart for at least a week.

 

She’d never even seen a pair with a perfect positive score.

 

And here was Lu Xiangyuan, with a negative one hundred.

 

What did negative one hundred even mean? To put it simply, if two Alphas had a compatibility score just slightly negative—say, negative one—they’d spit in each other’s faces upon meeting.

 

This was truly a first.

 

Chi Yunhan asked, “And you still dated her? For that long? Xiang Yuan, you’re something else. You’re… impressive.”

 

Lu Xiangyuan raised the bottle again, drinking between heart-wrenching sobs. Chi Yunhan clinked her bottle against hers, her own mood equally gloomy. Seeing Lu Xiangyuan like this, she couldn’t bring herself to complain further.

 

The clinking of bottles barely held back the sorrow.

 

After drinking, emotions ran high, and the two sisters hugged each other, crying their hearts out—so much so that they missed several phone calls and nearly passed out on the table.

 

Lu Xiangyuan fumbled for the phone and answered, “Who is it?”

 

“Jiang Muning.” The voice on the other end was icy. “Bring her down.”

 

“Oh.” Lu Xiangyuan glanced at Chi Yunhan, who was thoroughly drunk, and slurred, “She’s staying with me tonight. I’ll have her call you back tomorrow.”

 

Just as she was about to hang up, Jiang Muning added, “I’m downstairs.”

 

Lu Xiangyuan’s eyes widened, sobering instantly. “How do you know where I live? Are you—are you going to—to tell—”

 

“I’m taking her home. Ten minutes.”

 

The call ended. Lu Xiangyuan blinked hard, checked the time on her phone, and shook Chi Yunhan awake. Fortunately, Chi Yunhan wasn’t completely out of it and could still walk.

 

Staggering downstairs, Lu Xiangyuan quickly muttered a few words to Chi Yunhan at the entrance before darting back into the elevator, frantically pressing the buttons while glancing around.

 

Chi Yunhan, swaying slightly, hugged her bag and slurred, “Where is she? Where’s Jiang Muning? I don’t see her anywhere.”

 

Then she stumbled forward—and spotted a figure in the distance.

 

Jiang Muning stood under the camphor tree by the entrance, her straight figure almost as tall as the tree itself. Her shadow stretched long and motionless on the ground. Even when the wind blew past, she didn’t move an inch, appearing steadfast and reliable.

 

Chi Yunhan’s eyes grew warm. “Jiang Muning,” she called out.

 

A car passed by, its horn drowning out her voice. Jiang Muning didn’t hear her, so Chi Yunhan began walking toward her, step by step, her movements slightly unsteady. Just then, Jiang Muning turned around.

 

From afar, Jiang Muning caught the scent of alcohol on her and frowned. Without losing her temper, she simply walked over to offer support.

 

Chi Yunhan clung to her arm, swaying slightly as she murmured, “This is the second time you’ve taken me home… no, wait, the third time. Haha, twice when I was drunk.”

 

“If you can still talk, you’re not drunk,” Jiang Muning said coolly.

 

“I am drunk!” Chi Yunhan insisted, turning her head to wave behind her, thinking Lu Xiangyuan was still there. She gestured to indicate she was safe now, that someone had come to pick her up.

 

Her arm grew sore from waving, so she turned back to Jiang Muning. “I drank because I’m sad. I faced a real dilemma today.”

 

“…Oh.”

 

“Why are you so cold?” Chi Yunhan pouted, furrowing her brows in displeasure. Seeing Jiang Muning’s own frown, she felt hers wasn’t intense enough, so she lowered her head to appear even angrier and more upset.

 

Her long, delicate eyelashes fluttered—not fierce at all, but rather endearing.

 

Jiang Muning blinked and said, “I’m not being cold. I’m just listening quietly.”

 

“…Oh.”

 

In an instant, the warmth around them dissipated, replaced by a chilly atmosphere as the two faced each other.

 

Jiang Muning asked, “What dilemma did you face?”

 

“Never mind. I won’t tell you. You’re no fun.” Chi Yunhan hugged her own arms and staggered forward. After a few steps, she stopped and waited for Jiang Muning to catch up, then tugged at the hem of her suit jacket from behind.

 

Jiang Muning paused briefly before continuing forward.

 

Behind her, faint sobs sounded like tiny ants scurrying in panic, lost and unsure which path to take.

 

Jiang Muning led her onto a side path, away from the streetlights, where only a few strands of moonlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves.

 

Chi Yunhan’s eyes were red and slightly wet.

 

Still clutching Jiang Muning’s clothes stubbornly, her voice hoarse, she said, “Jiang Muning… I don’t want to be an Omega anymore. Being an Omega is awful. It’s exhausting, really exhausting.”

 

The pressure was too much—the malice of society, the disdain of the entire community, suffocating her. It felt like Omegas were only meant to stay home and tend to their families, as if any surge of pheromones made them seem promiscuous, as if they were asking to be taken advantage of.

 

Chi Yunhan sniffled, then sniffed again…

 

Sniffling.

 

Jiang Muning asked her, “Then what do you want to be?”

 

“Just an ordinary person, free to do whatever I want.”

 

Chi Yunhan pressed her lips together again. Sometimes, ordinary people envied Omegas like them—no need to slave away as corporate drones, just being a good homemaker was enough.

 

Sure enough, Jiang Muning said, “Being an Omega suits you just fine.”

 

Chi Yunhan felt uncomfortable hearing that. “I knew you wouldn’t say anything nice.” Her fingers tugged downward, her voice soft and small. “You don’t understand. I want to be a perfumer.”

 

An Omega becoming a perfumer—wasn’t that just a pipe dream? She clenched her fist, tightening the fabric of Jiang Muning’s clothes, forcing her to take a step forward.

 

“Let go for a second,” Jiang Muning said, tugging at her own clothes.

 

But Chi Yunhan stubbornly held onto the hem of her outfit, refusing to release it. The alcohol dulled her mind, making her bolder than usual.

 

Jiang Muning sighed helplessly and reached to remove her hand. Chi Yunhan glared at her, aggrieved, but Jiang Muning persisted. In her struggle to resist, Chi Yunhan accidentally scratched Jiang Muning’s hand, leaving a red mark on the back of it.

 

Still, Jiang Muning managed to pry her fingers loose.

 

Chi Yunhan shut her eyes briefly.

 

When she opened them again, Jiang Muning was standing in front of her, slightly bent, hands resting on her knees. “I’ll carry you on my back,” she said.

 

Chi Yunhan didn’t quite understand. A teardrop clinging to her lashes rolled down and landed on Jiang Muning’s black suit. Jiang Muning exhaled, seeming even more resigned. “Aren’t you tired? Do you still want to go back or not?”

 

“I do.” Chi Yunhan leaned onto her shoulders, pressing her face against them. Normally, just looking at Jiang Muning, she seemed slender and graceful—a delicate beauty. But now, her shoulders felt broad, like a safe harbor to lean on.

 

For the first time, she felt a tiny, tiny bit that being an Omega wasn’t so bad. At least when Omegas were weak, they had an Alpha’s shoulders to rely on.

 

And Alphas had excellent stamina. Jiang Muning carried her for several steps without complaining about the weight. Lost in thought, Chi Yunhan found herself crying again, utterly pathetic.

 

Her forehead pressed against Jiang Muning’s back as she breathed in the small space she’d created for herself. The alcohol made her face burn. In a whisper, she asked, “Do you think… I can still become a perfumer?”

 

This time, she didn’t clench her fists. Instead, she listened to the sound of Jiang Muning’s footsteps, which were heavier than before. But just as she was about to slip, Jiang Muning tightened her grip and lifted her firmly.