Much like the AO changing room, the AO ski slope was largely symbolic. It was much smaller than the main area they had just left.
But with only a lifeguard, three AIs, and the two of them present, it felt more than spacious.
Yun Chuji was satisfied, but Tang Jianxi looked at it with disdain.
“If I’d known we’d end up having a slope to ourselves anyway, we should have just gone to the ski resort I own.”
“What? You own a ski resort, Miss Tang?” Yun Chuji was a little surprised. Or rather, she was constantly being surprised by Tang Jianxi. Her knowledge, abilities, aura, and wealth—it all contributed to the feeling that Tang Jianxi was practically omnipotent.
“Where else do you think I learned to ski so well?”
“So, is your resort for omegas, or is it like this one?”
Yun Chuji instinctively assumed it was the former. For some reason, it always seemed perfectly normal for Tang Jianxi to do things that were impractical or unexpected.
Tang Jianxi walked ahead, carrying her skis. Though she was half a head shorter than Yun Chuji, each step she took in the snow made one want to follow her. The bulky ski suit hid her delicate figure, allowing the formidable presence usually veiled by her beauty to radiate fully.
“It started as an omega-only ski resort, but no one came. So, to avoid being ridiculed by Tang Jianshen, I converted it into my own private ski lodge.”
“Oh? Do you usually ski alone, Miss Tang?”
Tang Jianxi turned, winked at her, and smiled. “I have AIs.”
“It’s not that bad. Sometimes I have a person or two with me. But you’ve been here long enough to know that it’s not very convenient for an omega to go anywhere in public.”
“What about today?”
“Well, today… today you’re with me.”
Tang Jianxi’s real meaning was that even if trouble arose, like her heat starting, nothing would go wrong with Yun Chuji there. But the words sounded strange after she said them. She frowned in annoyance, about to turn it into another lighthearted joke, when she heard Yun Chuji reply, “Yes. I will protect you, Miss Tang.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she immediately cursed her omega instincts. This desire to be protected was so infuriating. She quickly forced a smile and said, “Oh? Does that mean you’ve decided to learn how to fight?”
“…I could.”
“Ahem. Never mind. I shouldn’t be corrupting you.”
“No, Miss Tang. I’ve thought about it. I really could.”
Tang Jianxi quickened her pace, then pointed to the lift ahead. “Let’s ski first. We can talk about this later.”
But Tang Jianxi never brought it up again.
When they finished skiing and returned to the changing room, Yun Chuji was carrying Tang Jianxi’s skis. Their suppressants had worn off again. Since it was a private changing room, the staff didn’t bother moving them to the AO room. It was clear from the way they didn’t bother checking their gender information on their optical computers that this place had no real wariness toward alphas and omegas. Only the beta customers, whose lives extended beyond the confines of the resort, were habitually cautious around them.
Tang Jianxi was resting on the sofa when Yun Chuji brought her a cup of hot water. After thanking her, Tang Jianxi suddenly looked at her with a solemn expression.
Yun Chuji thought she was going to bring up the topic of learning to fight.
But Tang Jianxi, cradling the cup of hot water, simply asked, “Did you have fun today?”
That question again.
Yun Chuji wondered why Tang Jianxi was so fixated on this, but she still nodded with certainty. “I was happy.”
“Very happy.”
“Then,” Tang Jianxi said, taking a sip of hot water. The steam flushed her lips a deeper red. “I can tell you about some things that aren’t so happy.”
Tang Jianxi told her the identity of the woman she had rescued, and spoke of her fate, and the fate of all omegas from the outer three rings.
“…From the moment they’re born, they can have no other identity than that of an omega for an alpha. Furthermore, the Empire’s major checkpoints secretly forbid omegas from the outer three rings from traveling to other districts alone.”
“In short, the omegas of the outer three rings have been locked in a cage.”
“And as you know, alphas outnumber omegas by thirty percent. The Empire has never revealed the true reason, claiming it’s the effect of interstellar radiation.”
“The reality is that living conditions for omegas are becoming increasingly difficult, meaning they often don’t receive proper care during pregnancy. This is especially true in the lower-class districts. Even before they differentiate, omegas are physically weaker than alphas, so many die prematurely—some during gestation, others shortly after birth.”
“Then, to compensate for this deficit and prevent the outer rings from descending into chaos over a two-to-one alpha-to-omega ratio, the Empire not only concealed the truth but also developed the David aphrodisiac, allowing red-light districts—ah, brothels—to emerge once more.”
At this, Yun Chuji finally understood the revulsion and hostility from the young woman named Winona, and the anger that had followed from Xie Xiaoxiao.
“But if you just improve the living conditions for omegas, wouldn’t that solve everything?”
Tang Jianxi gave a soft laugh, as if at Yun Chuji’s naivety. “Centuries ago, a long-oppressed gender won its freedom. They were granted the same opportunities as the gender that had once oppressed them. People believed this would usher in an era of the noblest, most equal love in history.”
“But in reality, while love certainly became more interesting, it also became less important. The oppressed gender now had the entire world beyond their prison, so they stopped singing praises to the prison itself day and night.”
“The slave masters didn’t get the lovers of their dreams. Instead, they got enemies.”
“Those who couldn’t handle it started wanting to put the chains back on them. At least that way, they could get a wife, and a lover forced to love them out of despair. If not for the economic monopolies that later trapped everyone in a cage, that conflict might not have ended so easily.”
Tang Jianxi looked at Yun Chuji and said softly, “You know which gender I’m talking about, don’t you?”
Yun Chuji’s brow twitched. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
“Now, fast-forward to the present, and the situation is even more complex. Omegas were free in the beginning. It was the alphas who built the cage, piece by piece, and gradually drove them into it.”
“In the early days of the Empire, seventy percent of high-ranking officials were omegas. Now, the situation has reversed. Omegas account for only thirty percent, and the number is shrinking every year.”
“So, Yun Chuji, this is what they wanted all along. The ones being sacrificed aren’t just omegas, but also the lower-class alphas. That’s how the alphas at the top make their positions more and more secure.”
Yun Chuji’s mind was in turmoil. “I don’t understand,” she said.
She didn’t understand these power struggles, these hidden plots and open schemes. She didn’t understand why the gender she had once belonged to was being described by Tang Jianxi as something shackled in chains.
So many women had lived this way from ancient times to the present. Why did Miss Tang insist on calling it a man-made conspiracy? And even if it were, what conspiracy could possibly last for thousands of years?
Who could be the architect? Who would even have the right to be?
Her father, her elder brother, even the lowest of bandits—none of them had ever looked at her with the eyes of a conspirator. Their views were as natural and right as the sky and the earth, just as her own had been.
After thinking it over, she said earnestly, “Miss Tang, I believe you’ve become paranoid.”
Tang Jianxi finished the last of her water, set the cup aside, and sighed. “Is that so? Perhaps you’re right.”
After that, they fell into silence.
Finally, Yun Chuji could no longer stand the silence. “Miss Tang,” she began, “would it be better if I… agreed with you?”
Tang Jianxi didn’t answer. She just watched her, quietly.
Just as Yun Chuji felt she couldn’t bear it any longer, Tang Jianxi said, “Mark me.”
“What?”
“My people have already moved Winona to a safe place. I’ll take you home in a little while.”
“…Does this mean you won’t be seeing me for the next seven days, Miss Tang?”
Tang Jianxi spoke again in that sighing tone. “There you go again, being so blunt. Weren’t people from your time supposed to value subtlety?”
“Why?”
Yun Chuji wanted to correct her mistake, though she wasn’t even sure what it was. “I can give a different answer. I can try to understand what you said just now.”
“It has nothing to do with that. I’m just going to be very busy. I brought you here today so you wouldn’t overthink things, so you could have some fun. Just keep reading, keep studying, do whatever you want. Once you’ve learned how to be an alpha, we’ll see each other often.”
But you clearly hate alphas.
So, you actually want to hate me, don’t you?
Liar. Just a few hours ago, you said you wanted me to make you happy.
Yun Chuji walked over to Tang Jianxi, bent down, unfastened her collar, brushed aside her hair, peeled off the suppressor patch, and bit down on the familiar spot.
It was a light, gentle bite.
She refused to believe Tang Jianxi’s nonsense. She would stay exactly as she was!
She’ll never get to hate me!
When the marking was done, both their faces were flushed. Yun Chuji looked down at Tang Jianxi’s rare, vulnerable expression, and her heart felt like it had been lightly scratched by a kitten’s paw.
Here it comes again, she thought.
This ungentlemanly thought.
It was the same when she’d heard Tang Jianxi talk about not being able to go to public places. Her first feeling hadn’t been sympathy or pity.
But rather: I’m glad. That’s why I get to be by her side.
And now… she gently wiped a tear from the corner of Tang Jianxi’s eye with her forefinger. “Miss Tang,” she said softly, “would you like a hug?”
Tang Jianxi looked up at her, her eyes shimmering.
She gently pushed Yun Chuji’s hand away. “Let’s get changed,” she said. “I’ll take you home.”
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