Life was nine parts dissatisfaction out of ten, all because living hurt too damn much.
This utterly unphilosophical thought suddenly popped into Zhu Lexing’s mind, and she closed her eyes.
By her calculations, Yan Mian should have made it home by now.
The memory of that “love you” sparked a rebellious urge in Zhu Lexing that went against all her training: Why not just leap from the car right here and call it a day?
But they were only a short drive from the Zhu Family home. Driver Lin hadn’t done a thing to offend her, and getting tangled in a lawsuit over a stunt like that would be a miserable end. In the end, Zhu Lexing held herself back. Her fingers tapped away at the screen, but she sent nothing.
Zhu Lexing steeled herself. It was do or die.
A hazy mist of rain shrouded everything—this was a downpour like nothing they’d seen before.
Even with an umbrella, Zhu Lexing’s clothes were damp by the time she stepped out of the car. Her head grew fuzzier still, and the defiant edge in her heart softened considerably.
Only when she spotted Yan Mian sitting quietly in the living room, waiting for her, did Zhu Lexing pull herself together a little. She bit her lip and finally chickened out. “Um, I—”
Yan Mian finally stopped tormenting the blanket.
On instinct, she tucked the tangled mess—ruined from her anxious tugging at the threads—behind her back. She looked up at Zhu Lexing and froze. “Why is your face so red?”
Zhu Lexing: “……?”
Was her face red?
She turned instinctively, hunting for a mirror, but her steps felt leaden. Ever since stepping into the Zhu Family home, her mind had turned to mush, as if someone had clubbed her from behind.
God. Zhu Lexing wondered if Qiao Qiao had cursed her.
Yan Mian hesitated for a few seconds. “Are you coming down with a cold?”
Zhu Lexing stood there in a daze, staring blankly at her. It took several seconds before she replied, “Huh? No, I don’t think so. I feel fine.”
Her vision was a confusing blur of sharp and fuzzy. Yan Mian held up a hand signal for “five,” asking patiently, “How many is this?”
Her tone was perfectly calm, her manner patient as if she were dealing with a young child.
Zhu Lexing stared at Yan Mian the whole time she spoke. Everything around Yan Mian blurred into nothingness; the Omega before her was the only thing in crisp, perfect focus.
Silently, Zhu Lexing wondered what was up with Yan Mian today. Out of nowhere, she was talking about colds and flashing a one-fingered gesture.
Anyone could tell that was a one!
Wait.
Zhu Lexing’s thoughts ground to a halt.
Hadn’t she come here to explain things to Yan Mian?
It was as if two conflicting commands had fired in her brain at once. Everything felt muddled and chaotic; she had no idea which to tackle first. After a moment of silence, she said, “That ‘love you’ I sent—you don’t mean it as a one, do you—”
Her words came out clear and deliberate.
Yan Mian went rigid for several seconds. Finally, she could confirm it: whatever the cause, Zhu Lexing was far from clearheaded right now.
Very far.
Yet the girl stood a short distance away. Even in her muddled state, she still remembered to keep a proper distance from Yan Mian. Yan Mian glanced sideways at the vase on display, filled with blooming sunflowers. Yesterday, Zhu Lexing had shoved the flowers into her hands before storming off in a huff. On the way home, she’d found the note tucked into the card.
—Happy wrap party!
The card had even included a conspicuous label below: “fan.”
The handwriting was bold and flowing, in a different style from usual. But Zhu Lexing’s exclamation points always featured an unconscious connecting stroke, and Yan Mian had recognized it at once. This deliberate act of kindness had slipped out unintentionally, leaving her unsure how to face it.
That 【Flower is very pretty】 message was one she’d agonized over before sending. The reply had struck her as bizarre, sparking an inexplicable anxiety ever since. Her feelings toward Zhu Lexing were profoundly complicated—dislike mingled with gratitude.
“Love” was such a loaded word.
The old Zhu Lexing never would have brought up love. She rarely even joked around with people. But at some point, that had changed. Now she tossed jokes out freely, chatting easily with anyone. Laughter came more often than anything, and her coldness felt almost performative.
In the heavy silence, Yan Mian walked toward Zhu Lexing.
The Omega’s approach made Zhu Lexing take an instinctive step back.
Her mouth fell open; she wanted to shout, “Don’t come any closer!” But that felt too much like some cringeworthy trope from a bad drama. She could only swallow the inexplicable surge of agitation and watch Yan Mian’s movements obediently.
But what could Yan Mian possibly do to her?
Beat her while she was out of it?
Zhu Lexing figured that was pretty plausible. If their positions were reversed, she’d give Zhu Lexing a solid thrashing, no question.
The lily of the valley fragrance lingering in the air grew thicker with every step Yan Mian took closer.
When Yan Mian reached her side, Zhu Lexing’s throat tightened suddenly. On reflex, her gaze dropped to the Omega’s nape—the site of her gland, covered by an inhibitor patch. If she could just rip that patch off and claim those pheromones for herself—
The corners of Zhu Lexing’s eyes drooped. In that moment, she realized what was happening.
She was differentiating.
Zhu Lexing parted her lips slightly, meaning to warn Yan Mian to stay back. But something monstrous inside her seemed to share her body, soothed only when Yan Mian drew nearer.
Yan Mian had clearly just showered; her hair was still faintly damp. She wore an adorably cute nightgown embroidered with rabbits, their floppy ears giving her an air of perfect docility.
She raised her arm—her forearm pale and slender, knuckles elegantly defined—
The next instant, her right hand came to rest lightly on Zhu Lexing’s forehead.
The height difference forced her to tiptoe just a little. Zhu Lexing didn’t want to meet her eyes and lowered her gaze, but at this range, Yan Mian’s lips stood out even more clearly.
She’d been healthier lately; her lips were a healthy rosy hue, glistening with a natural sheen.
…The sight stirred an impulse to lean in and take a bite.
“You’re running a fever,” Yan Mian announced calmly.
Zhu Lexing bit her lip, forcing herself back to her senses. “…Oh.”
“I’ll contact Doctor Song,” Yan Mian said, lowering her gaze. “Let’s—”
“No.” Zhu Lexing rejected the idea outright. She still remembered the psychological test Song Yun had given her last time. Alphas during the Differentiation Period were especially vulnerable—who knew if she’d blurt out something completely irrational?
What if she got found out! Even now, Zhu Lexing still felt like she’d be dragged off for dissection. She felt so fragile at the moment, like a delicate glass bloom perched on a sheer cliff, liable to shatter at the slightest gust or raindrop.
For some reason, Yan Mian read a hint of grievance in those reddened eyes.
An aggrieved Zhu Lexing… The thought left Yan Mian momentarily stunned. But only for a few seconds before she sighed. “Aunt Liu took the day off to go home. If you don’t want to go to the hospital, I’ll mix you some cold medicine. Go lie down and rest for now.”
With that, Yan Mian went rummaging through the medicine cabinet. That soothing lily of the valley fragrance receded from her, and Zhu Lexing bit her lip, fighting the impulse to follow. She was afraid of startling Yan Mian and could only stay rooted to the spot.
After several seconds of silence, she asked, “Can I… not go back upstairs? Just lie on the sofa?”
The words were incredibly hard to get out.
But for an Alpha in the Differentiation Period, the presence of a familiar Omega… well, at least it could make things a little more bearable.
Zhu Lexing’s sudden request caught Yan Mian off guard.
She paused while filling the cup with hot water. “Sure.”
If it was on the sofa, it’d actually be easier to look after her.
Yan Mian stood still for a moment, glancing sideways at Zhu Lexing—who was lying obediently on the very sofa she’d been sitting on earlier, still clutching the blanket in her arms. She then lifted her eyes to the surveillance camera mounted by the lamp. After hesitating for a few seconds, she sent a message to Liu Su anyway.
【Auntie, Lexing has a fever and doesn’t want to go to the hospital. When can you come back?】
After mixing the medicine, Yan Mian went to wet a towel with hot water. For no clear reason, she caught a faint gardenia fragrance in the air. The Zhu Family didn’t grow gardenias. Was Zhu Lexing wearing a similar perfume?
Yan Mian found it a little odd. She rarely used this bathroom but didn’t dwell on it.
On the sofa, Zhu Lexing felt pain wracking her entire body. It was like fire scorching her skin from within. What they called “life is suffering” had never felt truer. But then she remembered Yan Mian’s own Differentiation last time, which had been just as bad—if not worse.
Zhu Lexing began unleashing a barrage of mental attacks on the System.
She was on the verge of tears from the pain. She blinked, and right then, her senses sharpened unbearably. She heard the faucet twisting shut, the water flow ceasing, and the soft, characteristic patter of Yan Mian’s footsteps.
Zhu Lexing had thought for a long time now that Yan Mian walked in a distinctive way. Whether at school or the Zhu Family home, she moved like an outsider trespassing in someone else’s territory—quiet and cautious, as if to hide her presence.
Instinctively, Zhu Lexing ducked her face, not wanting Yan Mian to see her in this state.
Yan Mian held the medicine right in front of her. Just like at the hospital last time, she’d even inserted the straw for Zhu Lexing.
Zhu Lexing clamped down on the straw and took two slow sips. It was a bit hot, so she looked up on reflex.
Yan Mian was staring at her face and unexpectedly noticed the damp eyes. The realization stunned her; tiny droplets clung to her lashes, sparkling clearly in the light. After a few dazed seconds, she asked in disbelief, “Zhu Lexing… are you crying?”
“I’m not.” Zhu Lexing’s instinctive denial came out choked. She coughed twice, her whole body trembling as the pain surged even stronger.
In all her time dealing with Zhu Lexing and the others, Yan Mian had learned one hard lesson: Go along with her stubborn whims, and everything would be fine. But that realization only made Yan Mian despise her own compliance more and more. Yes was yes. No was no.
Why change her own principles for the sake of one person?
Gazing at Zhu Lexing’s face—so pitiful now, stripped of its usual haughty edge—Yan Mian said, “You cried.”
Yan Mian’s voice was exceptionally gentle, like the smooth tones of a radio hostess Zhu Lexing had once heard. But the words flew in the face of what she’d expect. That faint lily of the valley scent drifted over again, subtly easing her pain.
