A Short-Lived Cannon Fodder Alpha Just Wants to Be a Salted Fish - Chapter 4

Initially, Wen Yuan felt that she was bothering Chu Yihan too much. She was quite restrained when asking questions, thinking she would only turn to her as a last resort.

However, Wen Yuan overestimated her own IQ and underestimated Shi Ran’s thirst for knowledge.

They encountered difficult problems every single day. Shi Ran was still unwilling to communicate with Chu Yihan directly, yet her curiosity was boundless, so she constantly prodded Wen Yuan to do the asking.

On Friday night, as usual, Chu Yihan was explaining a problem to Wen Yuan over a voice call. After Wen Yuan finished the calculation, she snapped a photo and forwarded it to Shi Ran.

Shi Ran replied with a line of Classical Chinese.

FragrantPorkRose: “Help me ask the Little Academic God how she translates this sentence.”

“The Emperor secretly raised three thousand death soldiers, scattered among the people; until one morning they gathered, and the masses knew not from whence they came.”

Wen Yuan held up her phone, read it aloud, and furrowed her brow while typing.

CenturyEggPorridge: “How come I didn’t see this question? Where did you dig this up from?”

FragrantPorkRose: “Chinese preview homework. ‘Auntie He’ is definitely going to pick on me to translate in class [Smile]. Hurry and ask for me!”

Since no one got cold-called during online classes, Wen Yuan hadn’t taken the preview seriously. She looked at the sentence again and felt it wasn’t that hard.

“It’s not good to keep bothering people. Big Sis will translate it for you,” Wen Yuan muttered while typing. “The Emperor raised three thousand death soldiers in the Underworld, scattered them among the living, and one day summoned them. Everyone wondered where they popped up from.”

Before she could hit send, a soft chuckle came from the phone’s receiver. Chu Yihan’s gentle voice held an obvious hint of amusement: “Wen Yuan, are you telling a ghost story?”

Immediately after, Wen Yuan received the correct translation from Chu Yihan:

[The Emperor privately trained three thousand elite guards, dispersed among the common folk; when the day came to summon them, the crowd did not know where they had emerged from.]

Wen Yuan’s gaze drifted upward in a daze, and she saw the minimized call display—

Her voice call with Chu Yihan had never been disconnected.

Once she realized what happened, Wen Yuan swiftly cut the call and dove face-first onto her bed.

The tips of her ears were burning, as was her face. Wen Yuan didn’t even want to know if her whole face had turned crimson.

How embarrassing!

Why was she like someone with a language impairment, having to read aloud while she typed?

Reading it was one thing, but what the hell was that translation!

At the thought of Chu Yihan’s laugh and her teasing remark, Wen Yuan punched the bed twice in shame and frustration.

Suddenly, a sensation like an electric current surged from her hands through her entire body. Her blood seemed to boil, and her breathing became rapid and shallow.

The nerves near her gland seemed to throb. She felt her pheromones clawing their way out from beneath the scent-blocking patch.

Fang Jingbai was the first to notice something was wrong. She grabbed a suppressor and hurried to open the door. Wen Ming followed closely behind, grabbing Fang Jingbai just as she tried to step inside: “Don’t go in.”

An Alpha’s pheromones have a strong impact on the same gender, causing mutual repulsion. It wasn’t uncommon for newly differentiated children who couldn’t control their pheromones to accidentally hurt their parents.

Fang Jingbai shoved the suppressor into Wen Ming’s hand.

Wen Ming administered the injection to Wen Yuan and then checked her blocking patch. “It’s still effective. How did the pheromones leak out?”

Wen Yuan shook her head. “I don’t know.”

To be safe, Wen Ming replaced the patch. The suppressor took effect, and the scent in the room faded.

Fang Jingbai glanced at Wen Ming. “I’ll take her to the hospital tomorrow for a check-up.”

Wen Ming recommended a doctor: “Book an appointment with Zhong Yue.”

Fang Jingbai nodded.

Still worried about Wen Yuan, the couple lingered in the room. Wen Yuan sat there staring at them, feeling like she was sitting on pins and needles.

The moment her phone vibrated, Wen Yuan felt like she’d found her savior. She jumped off the bed and waved the phone in front of her parents: “I need a little privacy. Can you two head out first?”

“You’re barely grown and already talking about privacy,” Fang Jingbai grumbled, but she still cooperatively pulled Wen Ming out of the room.

At the door, Wen Ming turned back to ask: “Male or female? Alpha or Omega?”

“It’s Shi Ran!”

Wen Yuan rolled her eyes at her father and pushed him out, locking the door with one hand while sliding the screen to answer the call with the other.

Shi Ran: “Hey friend, did you forget about me?”

Wen Yuan: “I really did forget you.”

Shi Ran: “Did you fall asleep while typing the answer?”

Wen Yuan moved the phone away from her ear, turned on the speaker, and entered the chat window. Sure enough, that string of nonsense translation was still sitting in the input box. She held the backspace key and deleted it all.

Shi Ran: “So, did you get the answer from her or not…”

Wen Yuan: “I did. I’ll copy it for you.”

Switching to the chat with Chu Yihan, Wen Yuan froze. Fifteen minutes ago, Chu Yihan had sent three messages in a row.

The first: “Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed at you. I just thought your translation was very cute.”

Cute? Wen Yuan raised an eyebrow. This was the first time someone had called her that.

The second: “Also, I never feel that you’re a bother when you ask questions.”

The last one was an emoji of a little cat holding a sign that said “Don’t be mad anymore,” with watery eyes—innocent and pitiful. It was the kind of thing that made it impossible to stay angry.

Wen Yuan recalled Chu Yihan’s own watery eyes. Honestly, she couldn’t blame Chu Yihan; there was no reason to stay upset with someone who hadn’t done anything wrong. If anyone was to blame, it was herself—or maybe Shi Ran.

CenturyEggPorridge: “I’m not mad.”

Seeing no activity from Wen Yuan, Shi Ran couldn’t help but ask: “Little Bird? Hey? Friend? You’ve been quiet for ages, still alive?”

“Barely.” Wen Yuan forwarded Chu Yihan’s translation to Shi Ran and said crossly, “Sent. Hanging up now.”

Shi Ran sent several heart-finger emojis. Wen Yuan let out a “tch” and replied with a random emoji.

Chu Yihan sent a reply: “Are you really not mad?”

“Really not mad.” Wen Yuan paused, then typed one more line: “Do you really not think I’m annoying?”

Chu Yihan: “Really don’t think you’re annoying.”

Chu Yihan: “I will never think you’re annoying.”

A moment later, Chu Yihan added: “I promised to take responsibility for you, after all.”

Wen Yuan clicked her tongue and replied with four words:

[Duty and responsibility.]

Saturday morning, Ningcheng Central Hospital.

The hospital was crowded on a day off, but luckily Fang Jingbai had booked an appointment online. It wasn’t long before it was Wen Yuan’s turn.

Dr. Zhong got a general overview of Wen Yuan’s situation and sent her for a physical. The report came back quickly. Dr. Zhong looked at the results and said, “Hormones are a bit high, and there’s an upward trend.”

Fang Jingbai asked, “Why would the hormones be high?”

Dr. Zhong explained, “Pheromones are ranked. Xiao Yuan’s pheromones are quite high-grade; it’s normal for her hormone levels to be higher than average.”

Wen Yuan’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

“Since she just differentiated and is unstable, it’s normal for high hormones and emotional fluctuations to cause a pheromone outburst. Don’t worry too much.” Dr. Zhong wrote out a prescription. “I’ll give you some medicine to regulate your hormones. Make sure to keep your mood light and pleasant.”

Wen Yuan asked curiously, “Then what would be considered abnormal?”

“For example, pheromone dependency or pheromone allergies,” Dr. Zhong handed the slip to Wen Yuan. “I once encountered an Omega about your age who had Dysfunctional Alpha Rejection Disorder. That also counts as abnormal.”

Wen Yuan had heard about the first two in health class, but “Dysfunctional Alpha Rejection Disorder” was a first.

Leaving the consultation room, Fang Jingbai went to pay while Wen Yuan waited in the hall. Out of curiosity and boredom, she looked up the disorder on her phone.

An Omega, due to psychological barriers, has a rejection reaction to contact with Alphas. Manifestations include a loathing of contact with Alphas, germophobic behavior during physical touch, and in severe cases, vomiting.

Studies show that Omegas can gradually overcome this rejection through progressive intimate contact with an Alpha who does not trigger a significant reaction.

The bottom of the page listed the steps of contact. Wen Yuan had no interest in reading further. She checked the self-service payment machines; the line was as long as a dragon, and her mother was only halfway through it.

Wen Yuan sent her mother a text and got up to go to the restroom. The line on the first floor was even longer than the payment line; the second floor was the same.

Wen Yuan walked through the corridor to the adjacent inpatient department, where the restrooms were nearly empty.

As she walked over, an Omega girl dropped her keys. A female Alpha nearby knelt down to help, but instead of the keys, she accidentally brushed against the Omega’s hand.

Wen Yuan watched lazily. The girl was wearing a white dress, and her skin was even whiter than the fabric. Crouching there, she looked like a little snowball.

As her eyes swept over their overlapping hands, Wen Yuan instinctively frowned. For some reason, she felt a bit uncomfortable. Thinking she had just been holding it in too long, she bypassed them and headed toward the female Alpha restroom. She heard the Omega murmur a soft “thank you.”

The voice was soft and sweet. It reminded her of Chu Yihan. Wen Yuan couldn’t help but glance back. The Alpha had already left, and the “Snowball” was at the sink with her back turned, washing her hands.

It couldn’t be that much of a coincidence. Wen Yuan looked away and entered the restroom.

When she came out, the Snowball was still washing her hands. Wen Yuan walked to her side to fix her bangs in the mirror. The Snowball lifted her head.

Wen Yuan froze. It really was Chu Yihan.

“Wen Yuan?” Chu Yihan spoke first. “Why are you here?”

“Physical check-up.” Wen Yuan put her hands under the faucet. “And you?”

“Visiting my grandfather.” Since it involved private matters, Wen Yuan nodded and didn’t pry.

Chu Yihan was still washing her hands. Her skin was very pale, making the area she had been scrubbing—now a startling red—look quite alarming.

Wen Yuan couldn’t help but speak up: “If you keep scrubbing, you’re going to lose a layer of skin.”

Chu Yihan paused and pulled her hands back.

Recalling the scene from moments ago, Wen Yuan asked, “Do you have a germophobia?”

“No.” Chu Yihan shook her head, pulling out a paper towel and wiping her hands methodically. After a few seconds of silence, she said, “It’s Dysfunctional Alpha Rejection Disorder.”

Wen Yuan had just learned about this condition, and here she was, meeting a patient. She strongly suspected the “Omega about her age” the doctor mentioned was Chu Yihan.

Suddenly, she remembered the day of her differentiation. “You have Alpha Rejection Disorder, yet you bit me? And held me? And carried me on your back?!”

Chu Yihan lifted her gaze to look at Wen Yuan. Her light amber eyes held an unreadable emotion. After a long pause, her lips curved into a faint, lingering smile.

“I don’t have a rejection reaction toward you.”