Chapter 2 1/2

Jiang Li struggled to regulate his breathing, resisting his body’s instincts; Wunong’s temple became damp.

Suddenly, a faint green tea aroma wafted through the air, chilling.

Just as people categorise colours as warm or cool, pheromones also have warm and cool distinctions. Some prefer the warm breeze and floral scents of spring, while others favour the icy scent of polar seawater.

Jiang Li furrowed his brows; the scent he now detected belonged to the cold category, and it was excessively frigid.

Upon careful sniffing, he also caught a rare calming agent’s scent, known for its analgesic effects. However, due to potential side effects, it was no longer used clinically.

Subconsciously, Jiang Li turned to look at the young man in the private room, worried that his emotional turmoil might release pheromones. He also feared that the earlier aggressive Alpha might have forced him to use calming medication.

The Omega in the room was on the phone with his senior, his voice carrying a hint of sobbing but maintaining clarity: “…Yes, thank you, senior. I’ll wait for you in a crowded place.”

Jiang Li averted his gaze, raised his hand to operate the tablet in the restaurant, selected room 67 for checkout, and placed the bill under the name of Mr. Jiang, a member.

…

Cen Lang took a sip of coffee; for him, the pheromone storm was a torment from nearly two decades of the sensitive period. However, for the stationed space forces, it served as a precious pheromone balancer.

Due to being far from Earth’s magnetic field and space radiation, coupled with the scarcity of Omega in their ranks, their glands tended to atrophy. Cen Lang could precisely control pheromones, harmless in awakening glands, similar to triggering an immune response and stimulating the glands to become active again. Dealing with excessive pheromones was even simpler; there wasn’t an Alpha that Cen Lang couldn’t suppress.

The issue was that he couldn’t save himself; he was on the verge of losing control.

Lin Lu’s presence was crucial to him.

Thoughts circled in Cen Lang’s mind; his gaze remained calm. He casually smoothed the creases on his trousers, set down the cup, and nodded. “Someone will contact you.”

With the financial power of the Cen family, he didn’t need to negotiate the terms of a relationship with Lin Lu to leverage resources.

Lin Lu’s eyes dimmed; evidently, Cen Lang wasn’t planning to exchange resources through a marriage alliance. He felt a bit unwilling; he was undoubtedly unique to Cen Lang, his saviour.

After some thought, Cen Lang added, “I’ll do my best to meet your requirements.”

Not engaging in a marriage alliance but seeking an Omega’s pheromones was not a noble act; compensation could only be made in other ways.

Lin Lu smiled faintly and said, “Good.”

Insisting on his demands would make him appear too cheap now.

Although the Lin family was wealthy, they were traditional industries, dwarfed by the resources of the Cen family. Cen Lang’s outstanding abilities, despite not holding an official position in the military, contributed significantly to humanity’s interstellar navigation. The military and Cen Lang jointly held jurisdiction over the interstellar “strait” from Earth to other planets.

Passing by Restaurant Zone A, Cen Lang noticed a wall-facing waiter. Only a glimpse of a fair chin and neck was visible; the slender waist peeked out from the shirt, seemingly scratched, adding a touch of liveliness to the cold demeanour.

At a glance, Cen Lang’s brain spontaneously analysed so much, feeling oddly idle.

Cen Lang thought perhaps the pheromone storm symptoms were easing; he found himself paying more attention to the outside world.

Entering the elevator, he recalled the Omega near the private room; did he have a transparent suppressor patch on his neck?

Speculating about an Omega’s sensitive period was a rogue thought.

The air seemed to thicken for no apparent reason; Cen Lang suppressed the restlessness within him.

It was said that Alphas stationed in space had yellow waste material in their heads.

It turned out it wasn’t that other Alphas lacked self-control; he was abnormal. Once normal, his thoughts became excessively active after a few minutes.

Jiang Li stood for eight hours; his legs were getting sore during his sensitive period.

In the changing room, Jiang Li, alone, changed out of his uniform. After putting on a cap and mask, he leans against the wall, catching his breath in the open.

Outside the dorms and classrooms, Jiang Li always kept his face covered by a mask and hat. His cheeks appeared unusually pale, as if a kiss could leave a mark.

Before returning to the dorm, Jiang Li took out a potent suppressor patch from his backpack, applied it tightly, and then opened the dormitory door.

A message popped up on his phone, notifying him of a deposit of 2000 yuan.

Part-time for a day was usually 1000 yuan; why was it doubled? An advance for tomorrow?

Jiang Li was about to inform the supervisor that he wouldn’t go tomorrow when the other party’s message arrived first: Tips from a distinguished guest in Zone S for all service staff today.

“Our customers are generous; there are often tips. Learn not to meddle, and you can come part-time again next time.”

Jiang Li replied with a thank you, opened a computer document, and began working on a thick stack of data files from the shelf. His other part-time job involved assisting professors at the military medical school in writing research reports and monitoring development processes. Given the school’s strict lights-out policy, he had to finish before the lights went out; even signals weakened on time.

Wang Tianhu crawled onto the bed, grumbling; he couldn’t play games anymore.

Jiang Li set an alarm; he had a psychological appointment tomorrow.

—

“The more you resist placing yourself in your childhood situation, the more your subconscious resists… desensitisation therapy has failed,” regretfully announced the psychologist, Ye Wen.

“You’re in a hurry, Jiang Li.” Ye Wen poured him a cup of warm water. “What happened?”

Jiang Li opened his eyes, his face pale, with each therapy session requiring him to recall episodes of bullying and flashing scenes from his past.

“There was a couple who came to the orphanage to adopt a child. Little Jiang Li wanted a family and huddled in bed repeatedly, rehearsing his self-introduction.”

“The director valued a sense of ceremony; each child had to showcase themselves. Well-behaved and intelligent children were more likely to be adopted.”

“When it was Little Jiang Li’s turn, he looked like a mop pulled from a dirty drain, dirty and smelly. His fair face was indistinguishable, his eyes swollen, and two tear streaks had washed down.”

“Little Jiang Li still wanted to try harder. He opened his mouth, stuttering through his rehearsed lines, expressing his desire for parents.”

“Stinky! Get down quickly. Who taught you this?” The director was infuriated.

“Stop talking!” The director was infuriated.

“Ah, ah, he still has bugs on him!” The adopting couple looked at Little Jiang Li in astonishment, covering their noses. They didn’t want a crazy child.

“He actually dared to speak, like a smelly old rat,” venomously said Wang, a boy just three years older than Little Jiang Li, an orphanage child.

“If he appears on stage, moms and dads won’t choose us,” he continued, maliciously addressing the other children.

Is human nature inherently wicked? Jiang Li didn’t know. He only knew that every time the director announced that adoptive parents would come to pick up children the next day, he would inevitably be chased by a group of children to a foul ditch, sometimes even covered with a lid.

Little Jiang Li would do everything possible to get out, crawling and scrambling with a glimmer of hope to participate in the speeches.

“I, I’m called…”

“I…”

But his first prepared self-introduction didn’t come out on the first try, nor did the seventh, only resulting in intensified bullying.

No one would save him.

At five years old, Little Jiang Li was covered in a trash bin, dark and foul, with cockroaches crawling around his feet.

He no longer wanted to go on stage, nor did he want parents.

It wasn’t until all the children who bullied him were adopted that Jiang Li grew up and excelled in school, distancing himself from the putrid past.

“Jiang Li!” psychologist Ye Wen called him, jokingly saying, “Why don’t you just find those people, bag them, and throw them into the sea?”

Jiang Li indifferently replied, “I’ve long forgotten about them.”

Adopted children would change their names, vanish to the ends of the earth, and even forget their “youthful ignorance.”

Only Jiang Li remained in place. No, it was Little Jiang Li who stayed behind.

Jiang Li had long moved farther and farther away, advancing toward his own goals. Yet, every time he went on stage, he still fell into the predicament of Little Jiang Li.

Ye Wen sincerely apologised, “I’m sorry, I’m powerless.”

Persistent people are difficult to change; even in a hypnotic state, Ye Wen felt that Jiang Li was awake.

Just as Little Jiang Li would climb out of the foul ditch repeatedly to give speeches, when Jiang Li decided not to go on stage for self-protection, no one could change him.

Ye Wen said, “The recently popular pheromone therapy—you should know about it, right?”

Jiang Li nodded. “Yes.”

Human understanding of pheromones has been tumultuous. With genetic mutations and the invention of inhibitors, there was a brief craze for removing glands and rejecting AO binding.

Soon, people discovered the disappearance of glands, a rapid decline in lifespan, and the emergence of various diseases. Medical procedures of this kind were promptly halted.