After dispensing her motherly love and the warnings born from it, Tang Ji departed in a hurry.
As the ones who had lit this great fire, the Tang family was destined to bear an immense amount of attention and criticism. Tang Ji could easily forgive her own daughter, but those other people were not the Tang family’s mother; they possessed no such mercy. Many families had lost face completely, their esteemed heads taken away by the Imperial military. Though these people wouldn’t dare retaliate openly, it would take the temperament of a reincarnated Buddha for them not to employ some underhanded tactics behind the scenes.
Fortunately, the Tang family had nearly cornered the market on inhibitors, and with their current reputation among the omega population, they didn’t have to worry too much about their family business in the short term.
What did require a great deal of worry—Tang Ji gave a wry smile—was her own political career. At that moment, Tang Ji had to seriously consider her retirement plans.
If the situation became irreversible, it wouldn’t be impossible for the Tang family to lie dormant in the political world for a while. When the next generation of omegas rose to power, things would surely not be too difficult for them.
While the head of the Tang family was contemplating her family’s future, the young women she had startled had no time to think about such things. They had already spent too many days considering them; now it was time to consider something else.
Tang Jianxi sat beside Yun Chuji, propping her chin on a hand that rested on Yun Chuji’s shoulder. It was a rather intimate posture, and Yun Chuji, as expected, was frozen still by the closeness.
Tang Jianxi’s pleasant voice echoed by Yun Chuji’s ear. “You just made a promise to my mother, didn’t you?”
Of course, what also echoed was Tang Jianxi’s body heat, her scent, and the breathtaking beauty she possessed when she lowered her eyes.
Her soft hair scattered across Yun Chuji’s shoulder, making Yun Chuji wonder if she was too easy to handle, which might be why Tang Jianxi had been growing bolder lately. Of course, a part of it was that her own admiration for Tang Jianxi was growing, which in turn made her easier for Tang Jianxi to handle.
But what she had said to Tang Ji was true. She would never, ever entertain the thought of breaking things off with Tang Jianxi. Even to imagine such a possibility for a moment felt utterly absurd. From a young age, Yun Chuji had deeply respected her grandfather, and now Tang Jianxi had done something quite similar. In terms of impact, Tang Jianxi was even more formidable than her grandfather. The only difference was that Tang Jianxi hadn’t paid as tragic a price, though being ostracized by her own circle and becoming the omega most feared by alphas was hardly a perfect outcome. Still, the determination and courage she displayed inspired the same profound admiration in Yun Chuji.
If it were me, Yun Chuji couldn’t help but think, I definitely couldn’t have been so resolute. She had nearly messed everything up at the auction. It was so disheartening. She had thought she could be of great help, but in the end, it had always been Tang Jianxi arranging people, gathering information, and weaving individuals into an intricate net before finding the one person who could truly pull it closed.
She tilted her head, not answering the question, and instead asked a new one. “Jianxi, how could you have fallen for me?”
It was as incredible as a swan chasing a little yellow duck—oh, yes, thanks to Tang Jianxi’s persistent promotion, Yun Chuji was finally able to discuss this topic with relative ease.
Tang Jianxi’s arm was still draped over her shoulder, just inches away. Her warm breath ghosted across Yun Chuji’s face, making her nostalgic for memories of summers spent seeking shade under a tree.
“Well, that’s not something I can decide. If you want reasons, there could be many, but I think my feelings for you are like my love for lamb chops. It’s a matter of natural taste.”
Yun Chuji’s eyes widened in confusion. That didn’t resolve her bewilderment at all. Seeing her confusion, Tang Jianxi sighed.
She still doesn’t truly like me.
At Tang Jianxi’s sigh, Yun Chuji grew even more confused. She seemed to have ruined the atmosphere without realizing it, but she persisted with her line of questioning. “What does liking someone actually feel like?”
Hearing this, Tang Jianxi’s eyes curved into a smile, and a mischievous look—one that appeared often when she was with Yun Chuji—danced across her face. She leaned in and kissed Yun Chuji’s cheek, then smiled at the blushing woman. “Liking someone… is wanting to kiss you until the world spins, but knowing that if I really did that, you’d probably be too scared to talk to me for days. So I settle for kissing your cheek.”
Yun Chuji didn’t pull away, a result of her long training. In truth, she was still shy, but thankfully it no longer interfered with her daily interactions with Tang Jianxi, nor did it cause Tang Jianxi to remove her hand from her shoulder. She just complained softly, “But kissing my cheek scares me too.”
“But I can’t just not kiss you.”
“I don’t kiss you.”
“You can kiss me. And you have, you know.”
Yun Chuji subconsciously thought of those two chaotic nights, but Tang Jianxi simply tapped her own forehead and said cheerfully, “Here. Even though I was in a bad state then, I was still somewhat aware.”
So she had felt it. She hadn’t seemed to react at all at the time; Yun Chuji had thought her actions had been too reserved.
A belated realization dawned on Yun Chuji. She blinked, her heart beginning to beat faster, slow and steady. She felt as if she were being controlled by something strange, like a thin string was tugging at her heart, and the other end of that string was in Tang Jianxi’s hand.
Yes, she was not in control of herself.
So she turned her face, lowered her head, and once again pressed a kiss to Tang Jianxi’s forehead. Then, with a serious expression that belied a complete lack of logic, she explained, “Kissing your forehead doesn’t scare me.”
Still under that strange control, Yun Chuji didn’t notice Tang Jianxi’s eyes darken. The hand on her shoulder moved, and then both of Tang Jianxi’s hands came up to cup her face. Before Yun Chuji’s questioning gaze, Tang Jianxi captured her lips.
This time, there was no alcohol to muddle Yun Chuji’s senses. She could smell Tang Jianxi’s crisp, clear scent with perfect clarity and distinctly feel Tang Jianxi’s hands roaming over her face and neck.
Of course, the most overwhelming sensation came from her lips. This place, usually reserved for eating and breathing, had now recklessly welcomed its own kind. It was a soft touch, but the passage of time ground that softness into a new sensation—moist, entangled, like two flower petals stuck together by rain.
Yun Chuji’s eyes were open; Tang Jianxi’s were closed. The elegant tip of her nose and her dark lashes brushed against Yun Chuji’s face from time to time. The entire room was utterly silent. They had been startled awake by Tang Ji just before bed and had felt no sleepiness since, which had led them to this point.
And what point was this?
Yun Chuji felt Tang Jianxi’s tongue slip into her mouth. It was entirely because she hadn’t stopped it.
Why didn’t she stop it?
Because her racing heart had stolen all her strength.
Was this love?
Yun Chuji closed her eyes. The swan was in her arms, and she had only enough strength to kiss her, leaving no room for thought.
In the end, the chaotic kiss was terminated by chaotic pheromones. The pheromone alarm beeped insistently. Yun Chuji was already kissing Tang Jianxi’s collarbone, and the room smelled as if it had been filled with orchids.
Yun Chuji snapped back to her senses. Tang Jianxi lazily opened her eyes. She reached out and rubbed Yun Chuji’s jaw, which was stiff with shock. Her voice was misty, as if veiled in vapor. “With our compatibility rate, it really is easy for sparks to fly.”
Yun Chuji knew exactly what kind of sparks had flown. In that instant, shame overwhelmed everything else. She pulled her hands and face away from Tang Jianxi’s body, scrambled to her feet, then quickly bent over and fled toward her room.
But Tang Jianxi called out to her. Her eyes were half-lidded, the corners flushed red like a peach blossom on a spring branch.
“Xiao Ji, don’t run just yet.”
It was only then that Yun Chuji finally noticed Tang Jianxi’s subtle pheromones also lingering in the air—faint and crisp, with a mysterious, silent persistence. It was easy to overlook, yet just as easy to be enveloped by.
Yun Chuji immediately understood the situation. Biting her lip, she limped back. Facing the small, reddened patch of skin, she took a deep breath, causing Tang Jianxi’s neck to flinch. The omega said considerately, “Are you okay? If not, I can use an inhibitor.”
The alpha said nothing. She bit down, simultaneously pinching her own thigh hard.
The crisis was narrowly averted; the great fire did not spread.
But as Yun Chuji returned to her room, her limp was even more pronounced. Tang Jianxi lay on the sofa, smiling as she watched that clumsy retreating back, contemplating what kind of display case she should use for her little antique.
She’ll be mine soon, Tang Jianxi had a feeling. She no longer worried as she once had that this was all a deception of AO instinct. After all, it was obvious that love had triggered the instinct, not the other way around.
Without a doubt, the world was a complex and varied place. For instance, while some were tentatively exploring love, others were stubbornly persisting in mutual hatred.
After the Empress’s order was issued, Lucia had little time to pack before she was on her way to Golden Phoenix Star.
Glory’s reputation had spread throughout the Empire. Any publicly known members of Glory were now despised by all, and unfortunately for Lucia, she was a public member. Fortunately, however, she was not a public leader. According to the royal family’s official statement, the Third Princess had merely held a nominal position in Glory due to a poor choice of friends and had not participated in its internal affairs. Her punishment of being sent to Golden Phoenix Star was also carried out under the pretext of this “poor choice of friends.”
Still, some clever people could guess a thing or two from the sudden collapse of Warm-O, but these small fry were all suppressed by the royal family. The royal family had to remain pure and flawless; that was what made them royalty.
Lucia scoffed as she scrolled through the jumble of opinions on her light brain. Most alphas were distancing themselves. A small fraction asked if there were any organizations similar to Glory. Most omegas were indignant. A small fraction questioned whether throwing nobles in prison over a few bottom-tier people was making a mountain out of a molehill.
What an ugly play, Lucia thought.
It had all happened too fast. In fact, she still hadn’t fully processed it. Everything had been running so smoothly, but looking back now, she finally understood what a dangerous foundation it had all been built upon, ready to collapse at the slightest touch.
But in the end, her confidence, and her mother’s misgivings, had all been predicated on the assumption that no one would dare to touch it. The omegas would jump onto the transport to hell of their own accord. They had been doing so for the past hundred years, silently accepting so many absurd laws and ridiculous regulations. The Omega Legion was like a child holding a delicate egg, too afraid to even move.
But this time, brave people had appeared.
Tang Jianxi. Chu Meng. Lucia silently recited the names of these two blood relatives.
Oh, no, and that idiot who provoked a lunatic. If it weren’t for that idiot, they wouldn’t have been beaten so badly. The inferiority of alphas wasn’t just in their pheromones, the princess thought, her mind filled with angry, scathing contempt.
Then she thought of another name, and her mood improved considerably. There was, after all, a way to get revenge. That idiot hadn’t been stupid enough to add the person by Tang Jianxi’s side to that list. He must have been afraid the enraged omega would take her anger out on him.
And now the system was shut down, all the evidence gone. She hoped that young alpha was alert enough in the end to dispose of the six burdens she had bought out of greed.
Then again, being around an omega like Tang Jianxi, how many alphas could resist being greedy? That woman, aside from her omega body, was utterly devoid of omega charm. It was simply nauseating.
After viciously cursing her enemies, Lucia finally put down the light brain that had angered her, opened a bottle of wine, and gestured with her chin toward one of the pieces of luggage she had hastily brought along—an omega. “Come here.”
The pale-faced omega looked up. His eyes were as black as ink, forming a shocking contrast with his face, as if the two were engaged in a silent war.
The omega stood up and walked toward her.
As he moved, the clanking of metal chains could be heard.
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