TPLTMOE - Chapter 10

Ling Ran seemed to have no right to refuse. Jiang Zhiyu had simply declared that since he was to marry into the Jiang family in the future, his health had to be guaranteed.

Ling Ran assumed that, as Jiang Shengyi’s elder, Jiang Zhiyu would naturally prioritize the Jiang family’s interests in all matters.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Xu Guanyi had already prepared the examination forms and was waiting for them.

“The great CEO Jiang isn’t busy today?” Xu Guanyi asked curiously. “What brings you here in person to accompany this little one?”

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at the small Omega beside him—wide-eyed, his gaze darting around restlessly—then motioned for Zhao Qin to hand Xu Guanyi a black card.

“Give him a full-body examination.”

Xu Guanyi obediently swiped the card for the most comprehensive checkup package. After all, Jiang Zhiyu had money to burn, so every machine used was the most advanced and expensive.

The results came back quickly. When Xu Guanyi returned to his office with the report, he found the little Omega sitting politely at the desk, flanked by the towering, long-legged Enigma.

The cramped office suddenly felt even more confined with Jiang Zhiyu’s presence.

Xu Guanyi’s expression turned grave as he pinned a scan onto the display board.

“Ling Ran, 20 years old, Omega, scent profile: rosé grape.” He paused, then asked abruptly, “Have you ever had any hormonal disorders before?”

Ling Ran couldn’t make sense of the blurry white shapes on the scan—only that the small, inky-black dot stood out unnaturally.

“No. But I presented late—only fully differentiated at 17,” he answered.

Most Omegas underwent presentation between 13 and 16, the period when their glands and reproductive organs matured. Some outliers might develop later, but 17 was still within reason.

Noticing Jiang Zhiyu listening intently without any intention of leaving, Xu Guanyi ventured cautiously, “CEO Jiang, the following discussion involves the patient’s privacy. Will you… be staying?”

Jiang Zhiyu’s gaze remained fixed on the scan, his expression unreadable.

“Speak.”

Xu Guanyi pressed his lips together. Fine. The Jiang family ruled this city, and if Ling Ran really married Jiang Shengyi, he’d be under Jiang Zhiyu’s authority sooner or later.

Might as well hear it now.

“This area here is the Omega’s reproductive chamber.” Xu Guanyi pointed at the black dot. “But because you’ve been under prolonged influence from your destined mate’s pheromones—and relied solely on suppressants to force down your heats—your chamber has atrophied from stunted development. It’s only this size now.”

Both of them stared at the peanut-sized shadow on the scan.

Jiang Zhiyu seemed taken aback. This Omega was already petite, but his reproductive chamber was pathetic—weak, underdeveloped.

Could something so small even sustain life? Carry an heir?

“Your cycles are also severely irregular. Recently, have you been slipping into sudden heats, only to find temporary relief when soothed by a high-ranking Alpha’s scent?”

Ling Ran blinked, dazed, then turned his peach-blossom eyes toward the man beside him.

Jiang Zhiyu answered coolly, “Yes.”

Xu Guanyi’s curiosity flickered—how would you know?—but Jiang Zhiyu cut in first:

“How can his reproductive chamber be stimulated to develop further?”

The moment the term reproductive chamber left that composed, deep voice, Ling Ran’s heart gave an odd little stutter.

He lowered his head, fingers knotting anxiously in his lap. Unease prickled through him—flustered fear, yes, but also something hotter, sharper: the shame of having his most private vulnerabilities laid bare.

Jiang Zhiyu’s gaze lingered on the pale, delicate nape exposed before him—smooth as satin, save for the small, rounded suppressant patch adhered to it.

This was Jiang Shengyi’s doing. His nephew had saturated this Omega with his pheromones for years, yet refused to mark him properly, leaving his body to deteriorate like this.

And now, the little Omega sat there like a scolded child, wilted and trembling on the verge of tears.

Xu Guanyi softened his tone, aiming for clarity. “Don’t worry. Atrophied reproductive chambers and irregular heats aren’t terminal. They’re treatable. Your Alpha partner just needs to regularly provide pheromones—preferably with a mark, even a temporary one. Combined with medication, you’ll recover quickly.”

Ling Ran mumbled a quiet, “Mm.”

Xu Guanyi rummaged through a cabinet and laid out an array of devices on the table—all sleek, metallic rings of varying sizes.

“Your pheromone control is likely compromised now, making you hypersensitive to external influences. You’ll need a suppressor.” He pointed to each. “Wristband, anklet, collar, waistband. Literal placement, your choice.”

Ling Ran’s fingers twitched toward the subtlest option—the wristband. Normal life would be impossible with a collar or waistband digging into him all day.

“I’ll take the—”

“Anklet.” Jiang Zhiyu’s voice cut through like a blade.

Xu Guanyi brightened. “Excellent choice!” The most expensive one, naturally. He nearly vaulted over the desk to stash the other suppressors away before Jiang Zhiyu could reconsider.

Ling Ran’s lips parted in silent protest. He turned pleading eyes toward Jiang Zhiyu—why?—but the man was already examining the slender anklet, its tiny display panel flickering with intensity settings.

It would block stray Alpha pheromones.

But could it withstand an Enigma’s?

“Know how to wear it?” Jiang Zhiyu’s gaze dipped toward Ling Ran’s pant leg, dark and unreadable.

Ling Ran shrank back slightly but nodded, taking the anklet. In one swift motion, he hitched up his trouser leg. A flash of porcelain skin, the delicate jut of an ankle—then gone, swallowed again by loose black fabric.

“Thank you, Uncle.” Ling Ran stood abruptly. “I’ll transfer the cost to you once I’m home.”

“Mn.” Jiang Zhiyu slid his phone across the table. “Add me first.”

Ling Ran obediently pulled out his own device, scanning Jiang Zhiyu’s QR code. His thumb hovered over the contact name field before typing: [Little Uncle].

Xu Guanyi watched, jaw slack. Since when does the Jiang heir care about petty cash?

This was a scam. A blatant ploy to get the kid’s number!

***

The suppressor clung to Ling Ran’s ankle as the black Rolls-Royce deposited him home.

He barely crossed the threshold before colliding with Ling Su’s stormy glare. His brother had seen everything through the peephole—the unfamiliar luxury car, the shadowed figure inside—and now trembled with barely restrained fury.

“Who. Was. That.” Ling Su spat each word like venom. “I’ve warned you—your wedding to Jiang Shengyi is weeks away. Are you trying to disgrace us by cavorting with some lowlife Alpha?”

The medicine bag in Ling Ran’s hand felt suddenly heavier. His face paled further, but Ling Su didn’t notice—or care. All that mattered was the Jiang alliance.

Memories of Jiang Shengyi entwined with Yin Chu surged forward, a vise around Ling Ran’s lungs.

“Brother, I didn’t—”

Crack.

Ling Su’s slap sent his head snapping sideways. The medicine bag hit the floor as a scarlet handprint bloomed across his cheek.

“You dare talk back?” Ling Su snarled. “With Mom and Dad abroad, I’m in charge. Skipping curfew, mouthing off—what, you think marrying into the Jiangs means you can defy this family?”

The sting was nothing compared to the hollowness in his chest.

Of course. He’d always known—to them, he was just a bargaining chip.

So why did it still hurt?

Did it matter that Jiang Zhiyu had brought him home? That Jiang Shengyi had someone else?

The Lings would drag him to that altar even if it killed him.

No one would ask if he was sick. If he was hurting.

Eyes burning, Ling Ran scooped up the fallen bag and trudged upstairs. Ling Su’s tirade chased him—ungrateful, useless, a disgrace—before a call to their parents overseas sealed his fate.

Alone, Ling Ran collapsed onto his bed, face buried in the duvet. His fingers brushed the swollen heat of his cheek.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare.

A ping shattered the silence.

Ling Ran fumbled for his phone, wiping blurred vision. A notification glowed:

[Little Uncle]: Took your meds?

He bolted upright, scrambling for the pills. Only after choking them down did he reply:

[Little Grape]: Yes.

[Little Uncle]: Proof.

A flustered photo of the empty blister packs followed. Silence. Ling Ran exhaled—then froze at the next message:

[Little Uncle]: The anklet. Show me.

Ling Ran: “?!”

***

Jiang Corporation Headquarters – Special Meeting

Jiang Shengyi had just finished presenting the progress of the Southeast Asia project, receiving congratulatory remarks from several department managers. Yet, the man seated at the far end of the conference table remained silent, offering no reaction.

"To establish Jiang Corporation’s presence in Southeast Asia, our priority is expanding brand recognition. That’s why I propose increasing the investment by an additional two percentage points, primarily for localized marketing—ideally through endorsements from well-known regional celebrities," Jiang Shengyi added.

Manager A, a longtime subordinate of Jiang Zhisong and now a key figure in headquarters, naturally sided with the second branch of the family. He nodded enthusiastically.

"Director Sheng makes a valid point. Increasing the investment by two to three points is a necessary cost. I fully support this."

Manager B, who had since been swayed to Jiang Shengyi’s side, chimed in, "I agree as well."

A smug smile tugged at Jiang Shengyi’s lips. He was confident this deal would be a resounding success—especially with the Ling family’s overseas backing. He intended to monopolize the Southeast Asian market in one decisive move.

Managers C, D, and E, however, remained cautious, their eyes flickering toward the silent figure at the head of the table.

Jiang Zhiyu was toying with his phone, his long fingers spinning the dark screen idly. His expression was unreadable, his gaze shadowed.

The secretary beside him stiffened. The entire room was staring at the CEO, waiting for his input—and yet, Jiang Zhiyu was preoccupied with his phone?

Then, the black screen suddenly lit up. A WeChat notification.

[LittleGrape]: [Photo.jpg]

From the secretary’s angle, the image wasn’t entirely clear—but he could just make out a slender, pale ankle, the delicate joint tinged with a faint blush.

It was unbearably fragile-looking, as if it could be snapped with one careless grip.

The skin was soft, dewy—tempting enough to make one want to seize it.

And wrapped around that ankle was a thin black metal band, its sleek, dark sheen stark against the milky fairness. The contrast was striking—an almost sinful corruption of purity.

Secretary: "!!"

What kind of niche kink is this?!

<<Chapter List