Chapter 49: Out.

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

Lu Yao could feel Zhou Yunchen drawing closer to the bed. It wasn’t only because he heard the muffled thud of military boots through the blanket, growing louder and louder like a countdown that made his heart race. His body itself was sounding the alarm, shouting: The alpha who marked you is here.

He couldn’t smell the pheromones, but his body’s response to them wasn’t weakened in the slightest. Scent was a familiar sense, but the reaction to pheromones was something else entirely. The sudden strangeness of it set his mind spinning in overdrive. His back, his waist, even his toes were taut with tension. He bit his lip and trembled in the suffocating dark beneath the blanket.

The footsteps halted. A moment later came the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Zhou Yunchen sat down beside the bed. The faint rasp of uniform fabric moving against itself carried through the silence, and Lu Yao could almost picture exactly which set of azure-blue dress uniform the General was wearing. General Zhou often wore that uniform to military meetings.

Did he leave a meeting early after the explosion? Why did he rush to the Space Planning Department headquarters? And why has he stayed at my bedside this whole time? Lu Yao stayed hidden in the blankets, unable to guess at Zhou Yunchen’s expression or emotions.

They remained silent for a long while. The air beneath the quilt grew stifling and hot, until at last Zhou Yunchen spoke. His voice wavered faintly at the very beginning, a little blurred, but soon steadied into its usual calm—like the momentary tremor had been nothing but the result of prolonged silence. “Lu Yao, the doctor will be here soon.”

There was a rustle under the covers as Lu Yao rolled onto his side, turning his back to him. In the motion, part of the blanket slipped down, exposing the crown of his head. Forced to reveal himself, he reached out a slim, pale hand and tugged the blanket edge back up. He didn’t show his eyes, and so Zhou Yunchen had the chance to let his gaze linger on that hand. Faint cuts from glass still marred his skin. The wounds had been cleaned and treated with ointment, but not bandaged. The red, swollen marks stood out harshly against his white skin.

A knock came at the door. The doctor entered, and Zhou Yunchen quickly averted his stare. Even so, despite his best efforts, the doctor gave him a subtle, knowing look. A divorced alpha keeping vigil all night at his former omega spouse’s bedside—what other reason could there be, except a stubborn heart unwilling to let go, a desire to rekindle what was lost?

The doctor turned his attention to the patient curled beneath the blanket. “Mr. Lu, are you still feeling very unwell? I’ll need to run another checkup.”

Lu Yao pushed himself up from under the covers. Zhou Yunchen still saw nothing but his back, black hair falling loosely over narrow shoulders.

The doctor set about his examination with calm efficiency, asking occasional questions and explaining as he worked. The explosion’s shockwave had caused internal injuries, already treated with medication, but Lu Yao’s body would still need time to recover and adjust. Discomfort was normal, and the doctor advised another day of observation. He changed the dressings on Lu Yao’s hand and the wound at his nape, then took his leave.

The room was silent again, reduced once more to just the two of them. The air thickened with awkward tension. This time, Lu Yao couldn’t crawl back under the covers and pretend he didn’t know Zhou Yunchen was there.

Restless energy built inside him, until even the steady drip of the IV drove him nearly mad with irritation. His gaze shifted to the name on the infusion bag. Only then did it strike him—he was still in estrus. The doctor had only changed his bandages and given him anti-inflammatories. No suppressant this time. Because Zhou Yunchen had given him a temporary mark.

An omega bearing a temporary mark carried the scent of the alpha who claimed him, a signal of possession and protection that kept other would-be challengers at bay. The mark also soothed the unbearable restlessness of estrus, if only a little.

But Lu Yao still felt weak and drained, his body heavy with discomfort. The phantom pains hadn’t returned, but the anxiety and restlessness gnawed at him, and just in the short time he had been awake, surrounded by Zhou Yunchen’s presence, a fine sheen of sweat had broken out across his skin.

The doctor had gone. Lu Yao still hadn’t turned to face him. Zhou Yunchen’s gaze fell back on him, unrestrained. The temporary mark bound alpha and omega together in a strange way, linking them both physically and psychologically, and it was unbearable for Zhou Yunchen to let him out of sight.

Logic warned him to look away. At any moment, Lu Yao might turn his head and catch him staring. But some instinct told him he wouldn’t turn. Lu Yao’s emotions right now were in complete disarray.

If, in the past, Zhou Yunchen had only dared to gaze at Lu Yao, it was because he had always feared that his closeness would disgust him. That fear had driven him to avoidance, forcing him to invent countless excuses to mask the cowardice that kept him from facing the truth. But now, he could not escape—nor could he afford to.

At the very moment when Lu Yao was at his most fragile and helpless, Zhou Yunchen had already crossed the line with his reckless actions. This time, Lu Yao’s resistance was no longer just a figment of Zhou Yunchen’s imagination. It had become reality—one he could not escape, one he would have to shoulder on his own. Zhou Yunchen’s lips moved. Finally, he spoke. “Lu Yao, about what happened yesterday—”

“Shut up.” Lu Yao’s voice was curt, his back still turned toward him. He could not manage more than that. If he attempted a longer sentence, he would expose the pain and trembling hidden in his voice.

Zhou Yunchen’s pheromones continued to mingle with his own, those molecular signals carrying their primal biological messages, trying to soothe an omega in estrus, offering safety and dependence. But the more they pressed upon him, the more unbearable it became. It was as if a fire blazed within his chest and skull, thrashing wildly, feeding both his rage and his loss of control.

Out of sight, Lu Yao’s hand clenched tightly around the sheets, his fingernails digging so deep they nearly tore through cloth and flesh together. For a marked omega, alpha pheromones often evoked submission. But for Lu Yao, the more his body yielded, the more his spirit rebelled, screaming for freedom and violence. Neither was what he wanted. He needed calm.

Zhou Yunchen’s voice grew heavier. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have marked you without your consent—”

“Out.” Lu Yao cut him off again. Zhou Yunchen stood in silence behind him for a full minute, as though lost in thought. Then he obeyed. He left the room, leaving all the space to Lu Yao.

If an omega in estrus was like a fragile boat tossed about in a storm, then Lu Yao felt like a beast lurking in the abyss, a demon of despair and fury flowing like molten rock through his veins.

It was fortunate, he thought bitterly, that he was only a weak omega. If he had Zhou Yunchen’s physique and military clearance, he suspected he might have razed the Federation’s government building during his estrus, leaving nothing but rubble behind.

What he wanted was calm. High-grade suppressants could offer that, but in the throes of this abnormal estrus, even suppressants would fail him. Only a temporary mark had the power to pull him back. He didn’t need Zhou Yunchen’s apology. At that moment, he had still possessed enough clarity to say no. If he had truly resisted, the word would have left his lips.

But he hadn’t said it. He had accepted Zhou Yunchen’s mark. And still, he could not control himself. The explosion, the abnormal estrus, the mark—they had stirred a deeper affliction within his mind, one of pain, despair, and nightmarish visions clawing at his will. He should never have spoken those two words.

The hallway outside was vast and empty. Through the glass windows, the central district of New Blue Star stretched out in full view. Human figures were too small to be seen. Even the aircraft streaking through the sky were reduced to streams of light.

Night was falling. Zhou Yunchen walked beneath the lamps, his footsteps measured. He knew Lu Yao must have been suffering. And his presence, far from soothing him, only made the pain worse. Zhou Yunchen didn’t want Lu Yao to suffer—but neither did he want to leave.

A nurse carrying a tray of medicine passed by. As she did, Zhou Yunchen suddenly staggered, startling her. “Sir, are you all right?”

Something felt wrong. His limbs were growing weak. “I’m fine.” He brushed the words aside, hurrying down the hall. He remembered there was a supply closet at the far end. Just as he reached it, his control snapped. He collapsed inside, the door slamming shut behind him. The crash startled the snow leopard, its ears twitching upright. Zhou Yunchen immediately sent a message to his aide. “Zhao Minghe, come to the hospital at once.”

After Zhou Yunchen left, Lu Yao climbed out of bed, trying to move his body a little. His injuries weren’t severe—just dull aches accompanied by some heat—but tolerable. Yet after only a few minutes of walking, he returned to the bed and lay down again.

Before settling, he remembered to push the chair Zhou Yunchen had sat on back into the corner. He couldn’t stand being surrounded by Zhou Yunchen’s pheromones right now.

The anger roaring in his chest hadn’t subsided, and if he moved any further, he feared he might lose control and smash doors and windows in an attempt to escape. On the bed, the most damage he could do was splinter the boards—and even that would be minimal given his strength.

While he writhed under the tension, a call came through. Glancing at the communicator, Lu Yao pressed his lips together and answered.

“Good evening, Mr. Lu.”

“Good evening, Dr. Elaine.”

The endocrine synchronist’s voice was gentle, tinged with a small smile. “The hospital told me you’d woken. I thought I should check in. You look… reasonably well.”

Lu Yao closed his eyes. “I feel awful.”

“I know,” Elaine replied. “But much better than before, isn’t it? As far as I know, Zhou Yunchen, who rescued you, hasn’t lost any limbs either.”

“I just sent him away with a scolding.”

Elaine noted the scene: Lu Yao still lying with his eyes shut, hands folded over his abdomen. It was a posture meant for calm, but the rising and falling of his chest betrayed the effort to restrain himself. His voice softened. “I think what you’re saying is—you didn’t really want to send him away. You feel guilty about it and worry about General Zhou, but just as you can’t tell me exactly what you mean behind your words, you couldn’t control what you said to him either. Lu Yao, I recommended that Zhou Yunchen perform a temporary mark. I believed he was the right person for it.”

“No one’s the right person,” Lu Yao said.

“Three years ago, when you married Zhou Yunchen, you told me you didn’t dislike him.” Even without opening his eyes, Elaine regarded him with genuine concern. “That was already rare for you.”

Lu Yao opened his eyes, frowning. “I haven’t reached the point of hating anyone who shows up in front of me.”

“But General Zhou isn’t ‘anyone’ to you. He’s an alpha who became your husband, invaded your living space, marked you on your wedding night to trigger your pheromone stress response, and then spent years not coming home. If someone else had done all that, would you even be worrying now whether scolding him would hurt his feelings?”

Maybe not. But Lu Yao couldn’t be sure—no one else had ever done these things. He had no baseline for comparison.

Author’s Note:

Scolding people isn’t nice, but when Lu Yao tells someone to leave… It’s still kind of intense.

I’m twisted.

 

 

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