Chapter 91
And so, Zhuang Chi obtained permission to talk to Gu Ximian even during class.
For the first two days, she would just wander around the classroom and occasionally say a word to Gu Ximian during pauses when the teacher stopped talking. Later, under Gu Ximian’s protest that “you’re too conspicuous wandering around the classroom, it’ll affect my concentration,” she took it upon herself to choose a fixed spot for Zhuang Chi—on Gu Ximian’s desk.
Zhuang Chi was very flustered by this, but Gu Ximian was unconcerned. “You’re just a small ball of light anyway, you won’t block my view of anything.”
This isn’t a matter of blocking Gu Ximian’s view! Zhuang Chi thought. It’s the fact that sitting on Gu Ximian’s desk feels so strange! What proper person sits on someone’s desk! Gu Ximian’s face is right there if she turns her head! And there are students all around. Even if no one is looking their way, it still feels… in short, it just feels wrong!
With a guilty conscience, she couldn’t sit still after the first ten minutes and weakly suggested, “How about… I go stay somewhere else? Like on another student’s desk…”
Gu Ximian shot her a sideways glance.
Zhuang Chi didn’t dare say anything more and forced herself to stay for the whole class. When the bell finally rang, she brought up the topic again, trying to win Gu Ximian’s approval. “Anyway, other people can’t see me, so sitting over there won’t affect them. Sitting here with you… ahem, putting other things aside, didn’t you say I’m a ball of light? Won’t I be too bright for you if I stay in front of you all the time?”
She thought she had found a perfectly reasonable excuse, but Gu Ximian was unmoved. She pulled over a piece of scratch paper and wrote crisply: Then sit on my lap.
In that case, I’d rather sit on the desk.
Although she didn’t dare bring it up again, Zhuang Chi still stealthily slid down the side of the desk at the beginning of the second class and sat down, leaning against the leg of Gu Ximian’s chair. She cautiously looked up and received a helpless glance from Gu Ximian, but in any case, she wasn’t forced to sit back up, which allowed Zhuang Chi to breathe a small sigh of relief.
Gu Ximian’s attitude towards her was somewhat special. Rather than treating her as a supernatural being, it was more like she was treated as a small animal one could converse with. Zhuang Chi gradually became aware of this, and her understanding deepened one night when Gu Ximian suddenly came downstairs before bed and casually asked if she wanted to go to her room and sleep with her.
How to put it? For Gu Ximian, this was clearly a sign that she didn’t see Zhuang Chi as being of the same species.
Gu Ximian was young now and had no guard up against her, but Zhuang Chi knew the truth crystal clear in her heart. How could she dare agree to the suggestion of sleeping together? She was so scared she nearly fell off the sofa, and her refusal was especially firm due to her intense emotions. “No, no! Of course not! How could I sleep with you!”
“…” Seemingly not expecting such a decisive refusal, Gu Ximian frowned slightly, looking like she was now rather concerned. “Why? My room should be more comfortable than here. My bed is very big, I can give you half of it.”
Indeed, the bed in Gu Ximian’s room was very large and looked extremely soft, a clear winner compared to the sofa—but again, that wasn’t the issue! Just as Zhuang Chi was racking her brain for an excuse to get by, she heard Gu Ximian add, “Besides, you can’t touch me anyway. Even if you roll over to my side in your sleep, it won’t have any effect. There shouldn’t be any issue with not sleeping well. So why did you refuse so quickly just now?”
Fine, Gu Ximian had said it all. Zhuang Chi looked at Gu Ximian sorrowfully. Seeing that the girl had every intention of staying until she got an answer, she finally gave up and took a deep breath. “…Because I have someone I like. So I can’t sleep in the same bed as you.”
This doesn’t count as a lie, Zhuang Chi thought. It was the complete truth, without a hint of falsehood.
And just as she expected, Gu Ximian, who knew nothing of the events three years in the future, was fooled. She raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. “You have someone you like? In your original world?”
Having intentionally avoided talking too much about herself with Gu Ximian before, Zhuang Chi now only gave a vague “mhm,” worried that saying too much would cause problems. Fortunately, Gu Ximian didn’t press further. She just nodded in understanding and said gently, “That’s nice. Having someone you truly like, it feels like it would be a very happy thing for both you and her… Am I right? Liking someone makes you happy, doesn’t it?”
Her tone was very sincere, but hearing Gu Ximian speak in such a detached manner, Zhuang Chi found it strange. She blinked and, as if possessed, added, “I’m very happy. You… when you have someone you like in the future, you’ll know what it feels like.”
Her words sounded somewhat hollow, since Zhuang Chi didn’t know when she could return to her original world or what things would be like after she returned. It was still too early to talk about whether she could bring Gu Ximian happiness. But looking into Gu Ximian’s eyes, Zhuang Chi couldn’t help but say such things. Gu Ximian just smiled noncommittally and shook her head. “I’m afraid I won’t.”
“…” The negativity in those words was too obvious, leaving Zhuang Chi confused. “How could that be? You’re so wonderful, many people will like you. Look, at school, it seems like someone comes to confess to you every few days.”
“So what?” Gu Ximian lowered her eyes, her voice so calm it almost seemed detached and cold. “These confessions without any emotional foundation, rather than saying they like me as a person, it’s more accurate to say they like my appearance, my family background, or even more despicably, they just see me as a challenging prey. It’s the so-called competitive nature of Alphas at play—the more unattainable something is, the more they want it. Using some forceful means is nothing to them, just a harmless pastime.”
“Just like that time before, you saw it too. If you hadn’t been there, I probably would have been dragged right out. It’s impossible to completely avoid such things. You can’t bring bodyguards to school, let alone weapons. Even if I have ten thousand ways to deal with him and target him afterward, in that very moment, I am powerless.”
“Those people probably all think the same way: ‘She’s an Omega anyway,’” Gu Ximian said with a low laugh. “…If they get lucky and manage a permanent mark, then all is well.”
Having had a vague awareness of this during her time with Gu Ximian, it was now becoming clearer. Zhuang Chi pressed her lips together and asked carefully, “…Gu Ximian, do you hate being an Omega?”
Gu Ximian was silent for a long moment before saying softly, “I hate it.”
The two words fell decisively, her tone heavy. Zhuang Chi’s throat tightened as she heard Gu Ximian continue, “Just being an Omega would be one thing, but to be a so-called ‘S-class’ on top of that, it’s like being a rare and exotic beast in a zoo that has to wear a collar. Or like a piece of pork for sale stamped with a ‘premium’ label; if you don’t want to be snatched up and fought over, you have to go to great lengths to hide that label.”
“Even if this is just how the world has always been and it can’t be changed, and I’ve always been an atheist, I still sometimes wonder,” Gu Ximian said softly, her voice self-deprecating, “did I do something wrong somewhere, did I anger the gods, for me to differentiate into an S-class Omega, like it’s some kind of retribution.”
Her tone was flat, but that made it all the more alarming. Zhuang Chi’s chest felt tight and panicked. The eighteen-year-old Gu Ximian had never told her these things. This was the first time she knew Gu Ximian had always had such thoughts. The emotions she was facing were calm and restrained, yet she could feel an undercurrent surging beneath. It was just that Gu Ximian was self-controlled enough, or perhaps had thought about it so many times that when she spoke of it, her words were devoid of ripples.
Zhuang Chi wanted to say something, but Gu Ximian spoke first, naturally ending the topic. “Anyway, since you have someone you like, it probably isn’t right to sleep with someone else. I was inconsiderate. Let’s just stick to the old way. Sorry to bother you. Good night.”
After speaking, she gave Zhuang Chi a smile and turned to leave. Zhuang Chi watched from a distance as Gu Ximian went up the stairs and disappeared around the corner, feeling that her silhouette looked so thin and lonely.
Zhuang Chi had never thought about this problem before. Or rather, it was unlikely for any author to think about such a thing during the creative process—whether the characters they wrote would be dissatisfied with their given settings.
Taken on its own, it was an incomprehensible and foggy concept, something completely unnecessary to consider in reality, yet now it had appeared right before her. After that night’s conversation with Gu Ximian, Zhuang Chi spent a whole night getting over the initial emotional chaos, but the aftershocks still lingered for a long time.
Gu Ximian didn’t like her setting as an S-class Omega. Or to be more direct, she hated it. Even… if it wasn’t just Zhuang Chi’s imagination, it was bordering on loathing.
What should she do then? Zhuang Chi thought vaguely. …What could be done?
Even though she had been aware in the past that her settings had caused Gu Ximian trouble, Zhuang Chi hadn’t realized the extent of it was this deep. The eighteen-year-old Gu Ximian rarely mentioned it, only showing a bit of vulnerability and saying a few more words back when she was tricked by Lily and almost entered her susceptible period. Perhaps it was because of Zhuang Chi’s special circumstances that she was able to hear these heartfelt words from the fifteen-year-old Gu Ximian—after all, in this world, she could only talk to Gu Ximian, making her an excellent conversation partner from any perspective, with absolutely no risk of her leaking secrets to anyone else.
But right now, Zhuang Chi was in no mood to feel fortunate about it. Her heart was heavy with Gu Ximian’s words from that day. Regret and self-blame mixed together, throwing her emotions into turmoil. In her daily life, she inevitably seemed preoccupied, and it was easy for Gu Ximian to notice something was off. She found a time to ask her, “What’s wrong with you lately? You seem distracted. You barely talk at school anymore.”
It was true. Zhuang Chi used to be quite talkative, always muttering little things to Gu Ximian like “This teacher’s lecture isn’t very good, it’s so easy to get sleepy,” or “Your deskmate is secretly looking at you again, I think she’s going to get scolded.” Even if she didn’t get much of a response during class, it didn’t matter. She would find things to do, like diligently cleaning the area around Gu Ximian’s seat, possessing a certain self-entertaining spirit of service. But after that night, Zhuang Chi’s entire mind was preoccupied with her thoughts, and she no longer had the energy for anything else, which meant she barely spoke.
Now that Gu Ximian had pointed it out, Zhuang Chi knew that arguing would be useless, but she didn’t know if she could be direct. Then she heard Gu Ximian press, “Is it because you’re missing your lover?”
“…” Zhuang Chi was silent for a long moment, then looked up at her deeply and said softly, “You could say that.”
Although strictly speaking, she and the eighteen-year-old Gu Ximian weren’t in a relationship yet, let alone with the fifteen-year-old Gu Ximian. Her longing for the older Gu Ximian and her worry for the younger Gu Ximian were tangled together, creating an exceptionally complex mood.
…If she hadn’t written this novel back then, hadn’t set Gu Ximian as an S-class Omega, she wouldn’t be so unhappy now, would she? Zhuang Chi thought. Thinking this way… she always felt like she had done something terrible.
And she didn’t know how to make amends. This fundamental setting was now set in stone. Even as the author, Zhuang Chi could only watch helplessly now. No matter how guilty she felt, she couldn’t help Gu Ximian—
Zhuang Chi was tormented by this feeling of powerlessness for a long time, and it reached its peak one day after school several days later.
That day, Gu Ximian wasn’t herself at all. Her concentration was poor, her reactions were dull, and by the time school ended, her face was abnormally flushed. Zhuang Chi worried she was sick and repeatedly urged her to hurry home. Gu Ximian remained silent, leaning back in the car that took her home with her eyes closed, a look of restrained endurance on her face.
After returning home, Zhuang Chi watched as Gu Ximian skillfully took out the first-aid kit, removed two suppressants, and injected them without batting an eye. Zhuang Chi stared blankly at the high-concentration label on the suppressant packaging. She realized Gu Ximian’s susceptible period had arrived, and she couldn’t help but think that the needles of the special suppressants were so thick; two shots like that must be very painful. She wondered how many times Gu Ximian had already done this before.
She thought it was over after the suppressants were administered, but then she heard Gu Ximian’s voice, low and weak. She said, “For the next two to three days, I will be staying in my room.”
“I will ask for leave from school. As for you, Z,”
Gu Ximian forced the corners of her lips up, but the smile collapsed before it could fully form. She shook her head lightly, a gesture of clear-headed helplessness.
“…Don’t come see me. It’s not a pretty sight.”
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