TPLTMOE - Chapter 13

The little Omega’s gaze dropped, his plush pink lips pressed together in a nervous bite.

Those lips—full, perfectly shaped—seemed made to be stained in tempting hues. His cupid’s bow quivered faintly, the delicate bow of his mouth trembling like it might spill over.

Jiang Zhiyu’s eyes narrowed slightly before that soft, flustered voice finally answered:

"N-no…"

Ling Ran’s ears burned. The distant murmur of guests outside felt like a hallucination—here, in this hushed space, the man before him loomed like an immovable mountain.

Discussing heat cycles with an elder in such privacy was mortifying. No one else had ever pried into such intimate matters. No one else had seen him reduced to a shuddering, fevered mess—drenched in sweat and slick.

Desperate to shift focus, Ling Ran blurted: "You… you haven’t accepted the transfer. For the suppressor."

Jiang Zhiyu pulled out his phone, scrolling past unread messages,including those from [Little Grape]. His inbox overflowed with sycophants; he rarely bothered with it.

"Expired," he noted, fingertips tapping the screen. "Two thousand one hundred?"

Ling Ran misread his tone as disapproval. Hastily reopening his banking app, he resent the payment—his entire meager savings—with a whispered apology: "I’m sorry, this is all I have right now…"

Jiang Zhiyu glimpsed the screen before it dimmed. His own contact name: [Little Uncle].

But pinned at the top—[My Dearest A-Yi].

A slow spin of the phone between his fingers. He pocketed it without accepting.

"I’ll pay the rest later," Ling Ran promised, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "I’m about to get a job—"

"Then repay me after."

Ling Ran’s eyes widened. The fear and wariness in them softened—replaced by something warmer.

Little Uncle wasn’t so unapproachable after all. He’d taken him to the hospital, bought the suppressor, even granted him grace for the debt.

A radiant smile broke through, his voice honeyed with gratitude:

"Thank you, Little Uncle."

But lingering wasn’t an option—not with his bladder protesting urgently. Swallowing pride, he whispered: "Where’s the restroom?"

Jiang Zhiyu studied the cigarette between his fingers, then the Omega’s flushed face. A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Desperate?"

Ling Ran: "í _ ì"

Of course I am! Why else would I be lost here?!

His teeth sank into his lower lip. "A… a little."

"Then not desperate enough."

Jiang Zhiyu strode past him, unfazed.

Ling Ran nearly sobbed. His hand shot out, fingers—pale pink at the knuckles, blanched white at the tips—clutching the hem of Jiang Zhiyu’s suit jacket.

"I am desperate…"

Only when those tear-bright eyes met his, pleading and unguarded, did Jiang Zhiyu’s amusement deepen.

"Little liar."

Ling Ran: "…mm."

Trailing behind Jiang Zhiyu through winding corridors, they arrived at a secluded pavilion beside a serpentine stream.

The building ahead appeared to be the restroom, with two men standing outside chatting and smoking in front of a cluster of emerald bamboo.

When they caught sight of Jiang Zhiyu, the two men startled, hastily stubbing out their cigarettes.

One of them, Ling Ran recognized—it was that alpha Tang Jun, the one who had been so disrespectful to him earlier.

“Oh, President Jiang.”

“Little Uncle.”

The other man greeting them was Li Meng, a cousin from the second branch of the family—the son of Jiang Shengyi’s maternal aunt. Nearing thirty, he was idle and unambitious, loafing around the Jiang household all day with his mother, milking the second branch for all they were worth.

Though Li Meng addressed Jiang Zhiyu as Little Uncle in accordance with Jiang Shengyi’s generational seniority, the two were practically the same age.

Jiang Zhiyu gave them an impassive glance before saying to the person behind him, “Go ahead.”

Ling Ran hurried inside, head bowed, acutely aware of the two pairs of eyes fixed on him from beside the bamboo grove.

Only once he was safely inside the restroom did he finally exhale in relief.

When he emerged later, Jiang Zhiyu and Tang Jun were no longer by the bamboo. Only Li Meng remained, seemingly waiting for him.

The moment Ling Ran drew near, Li Meng raked his gaze up and down him.

“Come with me.”

With that, he led Ling Ran back toward the main hall. Without a guide, Ling Ran truly wouldn’t have known how to return.

Once they arrived, Ling Ran murmured his thanks.

By now, nearly everyone had gathered. As noon approached, the elders began filing out of the hall, preparing to head to the ancestral gravesite on the back hill for the memorial ceremony.

Jiang Shengyi had vanished again—Ling Ran couldn’t spot him anywhere—so he boarded a car at random, following a group of elders to the hillside.

The mountain air was crisp, the towering fir forests so dense they blotted out the sky, an oasis untouched by the clamor of the city.

A massive blank stele stood silently amid the trees. The crowd bowed their heads before the grave as a black-robed priest murmured prayers.

Though Ling Ran had never met the Jiang family’s late patriarch, the entire Jiang empire had been built by the old man’s hands. Filled with reverence, Ling Ran kept his head dutifully lowered, silently offering his own blessings.

Once the priest finished, each attendee stepped forward one by one to place a sprig of pine—distributed earlier—before the stele as a tribute.

As the crowd shifted, Ling Ran finally spotted Jiang Shengyi standing not far ahead with Yin Chu.

The two were deep in conversation, utterly absorbed, Yin Chu even covering her mouth as she let out a soft laugh.

To an outsider, they might have seemed like the soon-to-be-wedded couple, not him.

Ling Ran couldn’t name the emotion tightening his chest. He looked away, gripping his pine sprig as he followed the procession forward.

When his turn came, the branches before the stele had already piled into a small mountain. He placed his own atop it with care, then moved on.

By the time the ceremony ended, the clear sky had darkened without warning, thick clouds gathering overhead.

A fierce wind rose, rain threatening.

The forest path was treacherous. Ling Ran kept his eyes on the ground as he walked—until a voice called his name from behind.

He turned. It was Jiang Shengyi’s mother, Jiang Ronglian.

A well-preserved omega in her forties, Jiang Ronglian still carried an air of elegance, nearly twenty years younger than her husband, Jiang Zhisong.

“Ling Ran, I called you several times—why didn’t you hear me? You didn’t even greet the elders when you arrived. I had no idea you were here.” Her tone was sharp with reproach.

Knowing Jiang Ronglian had never liked him, Ling Ran kept his head down as he greeted her and the woman beside her.

“Auntie. Madam Jiang.”

Though he’d only met Madam Jiang twice, Ling Ran knew all too well she was even harder to please than Jiang Ronglian.

Sure enough, Madam Jiang eyed him with disdain. “The Ling family isn’t some nobody household. How can you lack even basic manners? On the anniversary of the old master’s passing, they send a child as their representative?”

Ling Ran explained, “My parents are abroad and couldn’t return in time. My gege and jiejie also had urgent matters, so I came alone.”

Jiang Ronglian looked him up and down, clicking her tongue. “Shengyi’s grandmother explicitly told you to gain weight before the wedding. Have you even tried?”

“I—”

Ling Ran was about to respond when a sudden mountain wind howled through the forest, making his already slender frame appear even more fragile under his loose clothing.

Jiang Ronglian frowned. "Look at how thin you’ve gotten—people will think the Ling family doesn’t even feed you properly. With a body like this, how do you expect to carry on Shengyi’s lineage? To bear children for the second branch? As an Omega, don’t you know what your duty is in marrying him? Have you no self-awareness?"

Her words were demeaning, reducing an Omega’s worth to nothing more than bearing children for their husband.

Ling Ran thought bitterly—Was being an Omega synonymous with having no autonomy?

Why did everyone keep reminding him of his "duty" as an Omega, as if his existence wasn’t his own first?

Did he really have to sacrifice himself for something as abstract as "the continuation of humanity"?

Couldn’t he be selfish, just once, and live for himself?

Before he could answer, Madam Jiang’s gaze dropped, catching a glimpse of the loose pant leg lifted by the wind—and her expression shifted instantly.

She leaned in, whispering something into Jiang Ronglian’s ear.

A second later, Jiang Ronglian’s eyes widened in disgust as she pointed accusingly at the edge of a suppressor barely visible above Ling Ran’s ankle.

"What is this?! Explain yourself!"

Ling Ran glanced down and quickly adjusted his pant leg, hiding the device again.

"It’s an ankle suppressor."

He knew lying was pointless.

Jiang Ronglian’s face twisted in fury. "I know what it is! I’m asking why you’re wearing it! Do you have a hormonal disorder?!"

Madam Jiang sneered. "Isn’t it obvious? No healthy Omega needs a suppressor. Let me tell you, little sister—if an Omega’s condition is severe enough to require suppression, their gland is defective. And if their gland is defective…"

She mouthed the next words silently, but Ling Ran read them clearly:

"Reproductive system."

The revelation struck like thunder.

Jiang Ronglian staggered, as if the ground had been ripped from under her. After all the effort her husband had put into securing this "perfect match" for their son—they’d ended up with a broken Omega?!

A beautiful, useless waste!

"The Ling family never mentioned any illness! Were you planning to trap us after the wedding?!"

Ling Ran whispered, "My condition… was caused by Shengyi’s pheromones."

"How dare you blame Shengyi?!"

Blind with rage, Jiang Ronglian swung her hand—

CRACK.

The slap echoed through the trees.

Everyone froze, turning toward the sound.

The force of the blow left Ling Ran’s ears ringing. He stumbled back, his foot catching on a root, and collapsed onto the damp earth.

His fingers dug into the soft black soil. His cheek burned, a stark red handprint blooming across his fair skin.

For a moment, the forest held its breath.

Then—

The skies split open.

Rain poured down in sheets, pelting the leaves, the ground, his trembling body.

Patter. Patter.

The crowd scattered as bodyguards rushed forward with umbrellas, shielding their respective families.

Ling Ran’s hair clung to his face, rainwater dripping from his lashes as he lifted his dazed, peach-blossom eyes toward the figures looming over him.

Jiang Ronglian, still seething, moved to strike again—

But Jiang Shengyi grabbed her wrist.

"Mother, enough. Today is for honoring our ancestors. Don’t disgrace yourself."

She whirled on him. "You knew about his condition?!"

Jiang Shengyi’s gaze flickered coldly over Ling Ran, still kneeling in the mud. "I didn’t."

She shoved him aside. "Then stay out of this! If the Ling family won’t teach him manners, I will!"

"Auntie, please—"

Yin Chu stepped forward, sheltering them with an umbrella. "The rain’s getting heavier. Let’s discuss this indoors."

The sight of her soothed Jiang Ronglian instantly. "You’re right, Chu Chu. You’ve always been so considerate—unlike some people."

With that, they turned to leave, as if the drenched figure on the ground were invisible.

Ling Ran watched Jiang Shengyi’s umbrella shelter Jiang Ronglian and Yin Chu, while he sat abandoned in the downpour, his bones aching with cold.

His clothes were soaked, his fingers numb. He tried to push himself up—

Then, the rain stopped.

Or rather, it was blocked.

The relentless drumming now hammered against thick, waterproof fabric instead of his skin.

He looked up.

A 32-rib, pitch-black luxury umbrella shielded him completely.

And standing beside him, expression unreadable, was Jiang Zhiyu.

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