After Transmigrating into an ABO World with My Nemesis (BL) - Chapter 13

The room was dim, the curtains tightly drawn, and the living room projector hummed to life, casting flickering shadows onto the screen.

A sound followed that made one’s skin crawl—but not in the way you’d think.

“—Hello, children! Today, we’re going to learn about the physiological structure of ABOs!”

In the bottom left corner of the screen, a blue cartoon character with massive, bell-like manga eyes and a wide, toothy grin held up an index finger. In a high-pitched, exaggeratedly cheerful child’s voice, it began explaining the differences in ABO biology.

The animation was cute, the content vivid—a perfectly standard early childhood education video.

After all, the top right corner of the screen was clearly marked: Suitable for ages 3-6.

Cheng Bing fell silent for a moment. Then, he asked coolly of the person sitting next to him, “This is the ‘flick’ you were talking about?”

Jiang Zhou, operating on the mindset of “know thy enemy,” had decided to gain a deep understanding of the ABO world. He’d gone looking for an ABO physiology video, but he hadn’t expected to find the equivalent of “Baby Bus.”

Still, he remained stubborn. “Wh-what about it? What did you think it was going to be?”

Cheng Bing opened his mouth, then closed it.

Jiang Zhou added accusingly, “Little Cheng Bing, your mind is dirty.”

Cheng Bing: “…”

Cheng Bing hadn’t really intended to agree to watch anything with him, but he remembered the heartbreaking look “Little Jiang Zhou” had given him ten years ago. The rejection had made it to the tip of his tongue, but he hadn’t been able to say it.

Who would have thought he’d be the one getting framed?

He didn’t argue; he simply went back to watching the Baby Bus education video with a stone face.

Jiang Zhou found this hilarious. He laughed until he was slumped against Cheng Bing’s shoulder, continuing to tease him between gasps. “Cheng-y Bing, oh Cheng-y Bing… I really thought you were some kind of asexual monk who only wanted to spend your days with a cold sea of math problems. I never expected you to be interested in this kind of stuff.”

They were leaning too close; as he spoke, his warm breath puffed against Cheng Bing’s neck.

Cheng Bing turned his head, his gaze dropping slightly to look at Jiang Zhou.

The Baby Bus continued its journey on the screen. The colorful light reflected off Jiang Zhou’s porcelain-white face. He was overcome with mirth, his lashes curving and his eyes brimming with laughter that seemed like it might melt into honey.

Per the doctor’s advice, the two of them had to exchange pheromones. Consequently, since entering the apartment, both had coincidentally left their suppressant patches off.

The room was warm. The scent of peach candy floated in the air. Jiang Zhou was likely a bit hot, as a faint flush had colored his cheeks.

He radiated a soft, sweet fragrance.

“Why shouldn’t I be interested?” Cheng Bing said.

His tone was calm, seemingly casual, but Jiang Zhou’s spine suddenly stiffened like a small animal sensing danger.

He smelled the Alpha pheromones drifting through the air—aggressive, circling him like a dragon guarding its treasure.

Jiang Zhou shivered, slowly propping himself up to peek warily at Cheng Bing.

But Cheng Bing’s expression was flat and cold; it was as if what Jiang Zhou had just felt was an illusion.

Still, Jiang Zhou grew vigilant. He slowly shifted away from Cheng Bing’s side, sitting primly and properly. He asked tentatively, “Uh… I just thought you… didn’t have many ‘worldly desires’?”

No worldly desires.

If only humans truly could be without them.

But unfortunately, it was impossible.

Humans are prone to greed, anger, and obsession; dark desires cling to the soul, and there is no escape.

Cheng Bing kept his eyes on Jiang Zhou, his gaze dark and deep. Jiang Zhou didn’t know what he was thinking, only that it made his skin crawl.

Suddenly, the scene in the animation changed, accompanied by a sound of heavy breathing that made one’s heart skip a beat.

Jiang Zhou’s attention was snatched back to the screen. He turned, and his jaw dropped. “Holy crap.”

The “Suitable for ages 3-6” label was gone. It had been replaced by an “Advanced Physiological Knowledge Education Video—For Adult Viewing Only.”

An Alpha was pinning down an Omega, holding both of the Omega’s hands bound high above their head.

The size difference was massive. The Omega was like a rabbit trapped beneath the claws of a predator—shaking, unable to flee.

And the scene had voice acting.

“Gland marking. The Alpha must sink their canines into the Omega’s gland, releasing Alpha pheromones,” a monotone, broadcast-style voice explained. “During the initial marking, the Omega will feel fear. One should use gentle methods to soothe them; forced behavior is prohibited.”

A giant red “X” flashed over the screen.

Then, the scene changed to the two of them lying in bed, the Alpha holding the Omega in his arms.

“Physical contact such as stroking and kissing can be performed. The exchange of saliva can effectively soothe the Omega’s anxiety.”

The screen then showed the two of them entangled in a kiss, accompanied by various wet, squelching sounds.

Jiang Zhou’s brain temperature hit the red zone.

This is getting a bit… a bit too much! They aren’t even wearing clothes!

Is this really something I should be watching?!

Wait, no—he was an adult. He could watch this.

But—but—who knew Baby Bus would take the highway straight to the edge of the city!

Jiang Zhou had never actually seen a “flick” in his life, and he was startled by the sheer scale of this “educational” video.

Wait, why isn’t Cheng Bing reacting?

Jiang Zhou peeked to his side.

Cheng Bing was still expressionless, staring at the screen without blinking. He didn’t look like he was watching a film; he looked like he was solving a calculus problem.

Jiang Zhou: “…”

The guy is actually studying it.

Jiang Zhou’s face was scarlet. He wanted to turn the thing off, but doing so would make him look inexperienced and “lame,” so he had to grit his teeth and keep watching.

Suddenly, someone touched his burning red ear.

Jiang Zhou flinched, clutching his ear as he turned to glare at him. “What are you doing!” he hissed.

Cheng Bing’s hand remained in mid-air, frozen in the act of pinching the ear. He lowered his voice as well and said, “Your ears are so red.”

Jiang Zhou glared. “So what! It’s the heat!”

Cheng Bing stared at his flushed cheeks and his exceptionally moist, bright eyes. Realizing something, he lightly arched an eyebrow. “Are you blushing? Oh. You’ve never seen one.”

Excuse me?

Is he looking down on me?

So what if he’d never seen one! Back in his world, he was either in class or studying, or studying and then in class. Who had the time for this stuff!

Jiang Zhou immediately bristled, huffing: “Are you mocking me? Like you’ve seen one?”

Cheng Bing said calmly, “I haven’t.”

Jiang Zhou got even angrier. “Then how do you have the nerve to talk about me?”

“This is just an ABO physiological education video,” Cheng Bing said.

Jiang Zhou: “…”

Fine, fine. It was just an education video. He was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was just a documentary—no big deal!

Jiang Zhou turned his head back sullenly, eyes wide, staring so hard at the two people on the screen he looked like he might burn holes through them.

Two seconds later, he heard a sound from the side—a laugh that had slipped out.

The audacity! He dared to laugh, and he didn’t even hide it!

Jiang Zhou narrowed his eyes, sharpening his “knives” and baring his white teeth as he looked at Cheng Bing sinisterly.

Cheng Bing stifled his smile and returned to his serious-study expression, acting as if nothing had happened.

Only then did Jiang Zhou huff in satisfaction and turn back to watch the rest of the damn video.

Though the scale was a bit large, it was an education video, after all; the focus remained on the instructional process. Soon, the gland marking portion ended, and it moved on to Permanent Marking.

And then, Jiang Zhou’s entire worldview shattered.

The ABO Physiological Knowledge Manual only had a very brief section on this; after all, it wasn’t a long booklet. Jiang Zhou knew “Permanent Marking” existed in this world, but he hadn’t expected it to be… like this!

Does… does it have to go that deep?

Won’t the stomach burst?

And what the hell is a “Knot”?

Won’t the person die if they’re being bitten on the gland while the Alpha “knots” inside them?

The Omega in the video was actually crying from the intensity!

Jiang Zhou couldn’t take it anymore. He slapped the projector off, his ears burning hot. He didn’t want to say a word.

Cheng Bing, sensing the mood, didn’t provoke him this time. But his gaze fell on Jiang Zhou’s lower abdomen.

Jiang Zhou had a smaller frame; he was lean, and his stomach was thin. He wondered if it would also… bulge like that.

“…Cheng Bing, what are you looking at?” Cheng Bing heard Jiang Zhou’s voice, spoken through gritted teeth.

Cheng Bing lifted his gaze and saw Jiang Zhou’s face, which was even redder than before. His eyes were red, too—he looked like he wanted to commit murder.

Cheng Bing turned away calmly and said, “Nothing.”

His face was a picture of cool indifference, but his voice was a bit raspy.

After a moment, he thought for a bit and added, “I won’t do that to you…”

Cheng Bing didn’t finish the sentence.

Because Jiang Zhou forcibly shut him up.

Without even looking up, Jiang Zhou covered half his own face with one hand and slapped the other over Cheng Bing’s mouth.

“…Don’t speak.” From his ears to his cheeks and down to his neck and collarbone, he was flushed pink. The words squeezed out like the buzz of a mosquito.

With his nose and mouth covered, Cheng Bing was reminded of when he wore the muzzle—the same sense of restraint, even making it a bit hard to breathe. Yet, this was far more pleasant.

So, Cheng Bing lowered his lashes and obediently let Jiang Zhou cover him, his lips pressing against the soft palm.

They were sitting on a two-seater sofa. The space was small, so they were sitting very close.

With the film off, the room fell silent, and all senses became heightened.

Each other’s breathing, the heat from their bodies, the warm, moist air hitting the palm of a hand.

After a long time, Jiang Zhou managed to reconstruct his shattered worldview. He finally realized the atmosphere between him and Cheng Bing was a bit weird, so he silently and slowly retracted his hand.

The deep red on his body faded into a soft pink.

By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned the educational video again. Only the soft pheromones drifted in the air, intertwining and emitting an ambiguous aura.

This is bad.

Jiang Zhou let out a light cough and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He looked away, trying to change the subject and move past the strange vibe. “It’s… it’s getting late. I’ll get something to eat. After dinner, let’s… let’s get some rest.”

He stood up, intending to flee the scene.

But Cheng Bing caught his wrist and pulled him back.

Jiang Zhou’s heart skipped a beat. He turned back and met Cheng Bing’s direct, pitch-black eyes. The ears that had just cooled down started to burn again. Jiang Zhou felt he was becoming strange; his heart seemed to race at the slightest thing.

He put on a fierce front and whispered, “What!”

“I’ve already ordered takeout,” Cheng Bing said softly. “Want to watch a movie?”

Jiang Zhou asked curiously, “What movie? Why watch a movie?”

“Don’t you want to go home?” Cheng Bing said smoothly, without a hint of guilt. “A movie about parallel universes.”

Jiang Zhou’s expression turned serious, and the bristling defenses he held toward Cheng Bing softened.

That was true. They had to get home. They’d learned enough about the biology; maybe watching a movie would give them a lucky break.

Seeing the signs of him wavering, Cheng Bing asked again: “Watch it?”