Chapter 25: I don’t need an omega

The frequent human experimentation in his childhood had caused Ji Jixuan to develop resistance to suppressants and disrupted his gland function. While a normal Alpha went into rut once a year, Ji Jixuan experienced it up to three times annually. Each time, he had to use several times the normal dosage of suppressants to forcibly suppress the overwhelming heat inside him.

As he aged, the intervals between his ruts were growing shorter. It was not a good sign.

Suppressants only suppressed; they didn’t eliminate the root cause. What he needed was to mark an Omega, to release the accumulated pheromones instead of trapping them inside. Forcibly suppressing his instincts would only cause his gland function to spiral uncontrollably toward collapse.

Over time, his body would become like a water balloon filled to bursting, vessels and nerves stretched to their limit. One day, the lightest feather would be enough to make it burst.

Zong Xi understood this. So did Ji Jixuan.

But apart from testing as S-rank, Ji Jixuan seemed like a fake Alpha. He had no interest in Omegas, or in anyone at all.

He was like a monk who’d renounced desire for thousands of years.

Unsurprisingly, Zong Xi heard Ji Jixuan say, “I don’t need an Omega.”

He didn’t want to continue this topic. “Phone.”

Zong Xi snorted. “Always like this. You change the subject every time. You can brush me off, but let’s see how you brush off your grandfather when he orders you around.”

He grabbed the phone from the desk and handed it over. Ji Jixuan glanced at the message from Xu Lin on the screen, startled.

“What day is it today?”

Zong Xi laughed through his nose. “New Year’s Eve. And you have the nerve to ask. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you on a holiday.”

New Year’s Eve.

Ji Jixuan stood up. His vision went dark. He swayed, steadying himself against the edge of the desk.

Zong Xi’s hand hovered midair, ready to help, then dropped. “If you’re not well, rest. Where are you going now?”

“…” Ji Jixuan didn’t answer. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass, then walked out of the isolation room without a trace of emotion—calm, steady, still the same Ji Jixuan.

Twenty minutes after driving away, on the mountain road, he received a message from Qin Yu.

On the screen was the diagnostic report Qin Yu sent every week.

The latest one, sent just now, “Mr. Xu Lin’s facial redness from burns has largely faded. The hypertrophic scars are also showing significant improvement through machine treatment. With continued treatment, it should take about another year to fully remove them.”

His finger hovered over the message for a moment. Then Ji Jixuan tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. Outside the windshield, the night was pitch black. The headlights were swallowed by the boundless darkness, unable to light the way.

Ji Jixuan frowned. At some point, he sharply turned the steering wheel. The tires screeched against the road, the sound piercing the silent mountain forest. The car abruptly turned around, heading in the exact opposite direction of his original route.

Xu Lin opened his eyes.

He’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Outside, it was still dark. He checked the time—it was already late at night.

The villa was still brightly lit. The food on the dining table had gone cold.

He rubbed his sore, swollen eyes.

He thought he’d heard the sound of brakes.

Was Ji Jixuan back?

He got up, barefoot on the carpet. Dozens of paper dragonflies he’d folded were scattered beneath the sofa. Stepping around them, he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked into the distance. The mountain was silent and dark. The brake sound must have been an illusion from a dream after he’d fallen asleep.

Ji Jixuan wasn’t coming back.

Xu Lin cleaned up, put the untouched food in the fridge, turned off the lights, and silently went upstairs to sleep.

It had been just another ordinary day.

After that, there were countless more ordinary days.

The New Year passed. He thought Ji Jixuan would find time to come home, but he waited month after month, and Ji Jixuan seemed to have vanished completely.

If it weren’t for the occasional reply to his daily messages, he’d have suspected something had happened to Ji Jixuan.

When he asked when he’d be back, Ji Jixuan always said he was busy, very busy. He said he’d come back as soon as he had time, but Xu Lin never seemed to catch him when he did.

Dr. Qin still came regularly. Xu Lin had no one else to ask, so he tried to subtly pry for information about Ji Jixuan. Each time, Qin Yu would just smile gently and say, “How would I know about Mr. Ji’s affairs?”

“I only report your treatment progress weekly. As for anything else, I know nothing.”

In the first year, Ji Jixuan had come back every few months. Now, more than half of the second year had passed, and he still hadn’t returned.

Xu Lin started getting angry.

No matter how busy he was, couldn’t he spare a single day?

He messaged Ji Jixuan. The response was always the same. So Xu Lin called him directly, and was hung up on.

Five minutes later, he received a reply.

“In a meeting.”

And then nothing.

Xu Lin stopped cooperating with Qin Yu’s treatment. No matter how earnestly the doctor tried to persuade him, Xu Lin locked himself in the bedroom and refused to come out.

Dr. Qin paced anxiously outside the door, not daring to force Xu Lin to do anything. He sighed repeatedly and finally left, uneasy.

He also ignored the delivery driver. The driver came weekly, but the previous deliveries sat untouched. New items were swapped out again and again, all treated as if they didn’t exist.

After a month of this silent treatment, Ji Jixuan came back.

He arrived unexpectedly, on an afternoon when Xu Lin was napping in the master bedroom. The curtains were open, sunlight pouring through the glass and spreading across the bed like vines wrapping around the person lying on the sheets.

When Ji Jixuan entered, Xu Lin was fast asleep, lying in a patch of sunlight.

His hair had grown long, dark strands reaching to his nape, covering the skin on the back of his neck.

Ji Jixuan had told him to keep it long, and he hadn’t cut it at all.

Soft strands fell across his forehead, softening the sharp edges of his features, taking the edge off his thorns.

Ji Jixuan walked to the bed. His foot crunched on something.

He looked down. A paper dragonfly, its wing crushed under his foot. The floor beside the bed was scattered with them.

Even in Xu Lin’s hand was a half-finished one.

He must have fallen asleep while folding them.

The noise was slight, but it still disturbed the sleeper. A sleepy mumble escaped his throat. His brows furrowed, eyes slowly opening.

He met Ji Jixuan’s gaze by the bed without warning.

Xu Lin’s expression was dazed. He slowly sat up, and the half-finished dragonfly fell from his hand. He didn’t pick it up. He blinked. Then blinked again, harder.

As if to confirm that Ji Jixuan was real, that he wasn’t dreaming.

Ji Jixuan saw clearly, in the sunlight, the last traces of sleep vanish from Xu Lin’s face. His clear eyes reddened, the redness spreading like a plague from his pupils to the corners, slowly engulfing his entire eye sockets. So red that even the sunlight couldn’t hide it.

Xu Lin grabbed a pillow and hurled it at Ji Jixuan.

The soft pillow bounced harmlessly off his chest and fell to the floor.

The next moment, Ji Jixuan felt a weight on his chest. Xu Lin had jumped out of bed and thrown himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist.

His face was buried in Ji Jixuan’s chest, his whole body trembling.

“You… You bastard.”

Xu Lin’s face was pressed against him, gasping. He clutched the back of Ji Jixuan’s shirt and yelled into his chest, “Why did you stay away so long!”

“You know how much, how much I—” His voice broke, unable to continue. It vanished abruptly, as if he’d gone mute. Then, in a barely audible whisper, he murmured, “I missed you so much.”

Outside, birds chirped. In the room, only Xu Lin’s ragged breathing could be heard. Through clothes and skin, his wild heartbeat slammed against Ji Jixuan’s chest.

Ji Jixuan let him hold on, waiting for him to calm down.

Once Xu Lin had steadied himself, Ji Jixuan spoke. “Why aren’t you listening to Dr. Qin?”

He knew instantly—because he’d refused the treatment, Qin Yu had reported to Ji Jixuan.

Xu Lin felt a sting in his chest. “Is that the first thing you say when you come back?”

Ji Jixuan retorted, “You did it on purpose.”

Yes, he had. Xu Lin let go and stepped back, meeting his eyes. “If Dr. Qin hadn’t told you, would you ever have found the time to come back?”

“I’ve been—”

He knew the word “busy” was coming. Xu Lin covered his ears, which were nearly calloused from hearing it. “I know, I know you’re busy. Enough. Don’t say it.”

Ji Jixuan stopped. He really stopped talking.

A standoff.

“I tell you to stop and you actually stop. Since when are you so obedient?” Xu Lin muttered, then said louder, “Apologize to me.”

Ji Jixuan didn’t react.

Xu Lin’s voice grew louder. “Say you’re sorry, and I’ll forgive you.”

He had offered a way out. After a long hesitation, Ji Jixuan took it.

He said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Xu Lin glared at him, made a grumpy sound of acknowledgment, and started picking up the paper dragonflies one by one.

Halfway through, he suddenly had an idea. His eyes lit up. “Then let me come with you to work!”

His mood had completely turned around.

Ji Jixuan was about to refuse. Xu Lin hurried on, “I’ll dress as a bodyguard. You have so many around you, who’d notice one more? I’ll wear a mask, blend in, cover up completely. I won’t do anything extra. I promise no one will recognize me. Isn’t that okay?”

“I don’t even know what you do all day.”

Seeing Ji Jixuan still unmoved, Xu Lin got firm for once. “Or are you lying to me? Are you really not that busy?”

“…” Realizing he wouldn’t be able to end this unless he agreed, Ji Jixuan let out a long breath and relented. “One day.”

“Just one day.”

Xu Lin: “Deal!”

After Ji Jixuan agreed, Xu Lin was extremely excited. That night, after his shower, he went straight into the walk-in closet. Ji Jixuan came out of his shower to find him still there.

He went in. The clothes from the wardrobe were all thrown around. Xu Lin, like a child, was excitedly trying on outfits in front of the mirror. When he saw Ji Jixuan, he asked which one looked better.

“Either.”

“Oh right, I’ll be wearing the standard bodyguard outfit tomorrow anyway. I forgot.” With that, he stopped agonizing and started reorganizing the clothes back into the wardrobe.

He was smiling the whole time. Ji Jixuan asked, “Are you happy?”

“Of course.” Xu Lin said, “I haven’t left the house in over a year.”

“Oh, can we go out tomorrow? Just for a bit?” Xu Lin was caught up in his fantasies, his smile unstoppable. “Maybe a movie, like before.”

“I’ll be working all day.”

Meaning: no time.

“…Oh.” Xu Lin’s hands paused mid-fold. He laughed awkwardly. “I was just saying.”

The paper dragonflies that had been scattered by the bed that afternoon were gone. Xu Lin had cleaned them all up. Ji Jixuan didn’t see them in the trash.

After putting away the clothes, Xu Lin came out of the closet, pulled back the covers, and climbed into bed.

“Don’t do that again. Cooperate with Dr. Qin’s treatment.” Ji Jixuan said, “He said that if you keep at it, your scars will heal soon.”

Xu Lin shrugged. “Got it.”

He fluffed his pillow and slipped under the covers, then suddenly said, “Maybe I should go home for a while.”

Ji Jixuan paused.

Xu Lin said, “Since you’re busy with work, and I’m just sitting around here anyway, I could go home and stay with my teacher and friends for a few days. I haven’t been back in a while.”

“Can you apply for a travel pass for me?”

Now that he wasn’t at school anymore, Xu Lin didn’t know where to get one. He had to ask Ji Jixuan.

Ji Jixuan didn’t reply. He silently got into bed.

Xu Lin waited a long time for an answer. “Is it not possible?”

“It’s not that it’s impossible.” Ji Jixuan said, “But your face isn’t healed yet. Aren’t you worried about your teacher finding out?”

That hit a nerve.

Xu Lin had forgotten about that.

Last time, he’d covered it with gauze and passed it off as an allergy. If he went back now with the same excuse, Pu Sha would definitely get suspicious. If Pu Sha found out about the scar, he’d question him relentlessly, and there’d be no way to hide it. He’d worry. Better not.

Better wait until he’d healed.

“Alright. I’ll stay for now.”

Xu Lin didn’t notice that, as he said this, the tension in Ji Jixuan’s back visibly eased.

Late at night, in the dead silence.

Tick, tick, tick.

The three hands on the clock chased each other in endless circles.

Xu Lin lay in Ji Jixuan’s arms, eyes closed, breathing steadily.

He was deeply asleep. One hand curled, fingers clutching Ji Jixuan’s clothes, as if afraid he’d slip away without a sound.

The room was dark, no nightlight on. In that darkness, Ji Jixuan lay awake, staring at half of Xu Lin’s face.

With continued treatment, it should take about another year to fully remove them.

Another year.

And Xu Lin’s face would be restored.

Once his face healed, Xu Lin could go back to District Thirteen.

They would be completely even.

The plan had been to keep Xu Lin at a distance this year, let Qin Yu treat his face regularly, and then propose a “divorce” once it was healed. After a year of being ignored, Xu Lin would leave willingly.

He shouldn’t get too entangled with Xu Lin.

The only thing he could do was limit unnecessary contact—both emotional and physical. That would make the separation easier.

When Xu Lin left, he’d give him a sum of money as compensation for two years of isolation in these mountains.

Love?

Yes, Xu Lin had said he loved him more than once, sincerely, seemingly from the heart. But so what? Even if it was real, that love would fade with time.

Since the fruit on this tree would only be rotten, why bother tending to it before it could grow?

What was the point? A waste of time.

Ji Jixuan knew he couldn’t reciprocate. Whatever Xu Lin’s reasons for saying he loved him, he couldn’t give positive feedback. He didn’t have the capacity, nor the desire.

But Xu Lin had been injured because of him.

And he couldn’t just ignore that.

If he’d let Xu Lin go back then, to District Thirteen, with no money and no proper treatment, Xu Lin would have lived the rest of his life with a ruined face. The scars would make his future bumpy, his prospects limited.

Though other people’s futures weren’t his concern.

But Xu Lin was different. He’d pulled him in.

Ji Jixuan didn’t want to bear this responsibility that wasn’t his.

He had to repay Xu Lin’s kindness.

He was halfway there now. Almost finished.

As Xu Lin himself had said: a small fish from a river could never survive in the sea.

Once the little fish’s wounds healed, it was time to send it back to the river.