5: Is This Something I Can Watch for Free?!
After three subjects, everyone couldn’t wait to pull out their phones and check the live updates.
The exam had been harder this time, sure, but exams happened all the time. A battle between gods didn’t.
What went down in Class 9’s exam room was quickly sniffed out by students from other classes.
[The invigilator told Qian Kun not to stare at other people. Who was Kun-kun looking at?! Which little vixen was it?]
[The second the teacher called his name, Brother Kun couldn’t be bothered to pretend he was a slacker anymore. He handed in his paper on the spot. Let’s hold three seconds of silence for Teacher Huang, running into a beast who can do every problem and still score full marks.]
[Brother Kun only used half the time, but Ice God didn’t turn his in until the bell. Doesn’t that gap look kind of big?]
[Have a little faith in Ice God, okay? After being classmates for a whole year, can’t you see past appearances? Ice God just isn’t underestimating his opponent!]
[Isn’t Qian Kun basically a Big Demon King? This is literally an impossible mission!]
[Brother Jin fought until the very last second. As expected of the man I admire!]
[Maybe Kun-kun just thought it was too easy. Who wins and who loses is still up in the air!]
Supporters of both sides were fighting online so hard their faces might as well have turned red through the screen.
Then one discordant bit of news cut through all the arguing.
Someone discovered an alpha collapsed at the northern exit of the teaching building while they were heading downstairs. When he was found, his breathing was ragged and his limbs were limp.
The student who spotted him rushed him to the infirmary, and everyone said the symptoms looked a lot like the exhaustion that followed suppression by a top-tier alpha’s pheromones.
The problem was that the one who’d collapsed was an alpha himself.
Just how weak did you have to be for that?
The alphas in the grade declared him a disgrace to their gender.
Everyone guessed through every top-tier alpha they could think of. They didn’t even spare the well-known big names from senior year.
The hallway outside buzzed with excitement as that alpha was carried out.
Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was something else entirely.
Liu Qimai was checking answers. Going down the list, he realized his performance this time hadn’t been ideal.
“No way. I picked B for this one, and it’s actually A?”
“Brother Kun can’t be wrong. If he’s wrong…”
“Refer to the previous line.”
Zhou You glanced at Qian Kun, who was being surrounded by people. He remembered that after Brother Kun had returned earlier, he’d been seething with hostility.
He’d gone to the restroom, and only after that did the violent edge in his mood finally settle.
Shen Jin registered for gastroenterology, while Uncle Feng went to find parking first.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”
“I’m fine.”
Shen Jin had been seeing doctors alone for years. He didn’t need anyone accompanying him.
Parking at a top-tier hospital was brutally difficult. By the time Uncle Feng got back, more than an hour had passed.
He saw that Shen Jin, who should’ve been at gastroenterology, was coming out of the pheromone specialty clinic instead.
After differentiation, Shen Jin shouldn’t have needed pheromone-related care anymore.
Shen Jin didn’t explain.
He only replayed the doctor’s words in his head.
Because Qian Kun had mentioned suppressor patches, Shen Jin had picked up an IV saline bag and stopped by the pheromone department as well. The doctor told him his gland still hadn’t fully closed.
He couldn’t tell if Qian Kun had noticed something.
Based on the blood test results, omega pheromones were still extremely active in his body.
“A differentiation period usually ends in one to two weeks. You’re almost at a full month, which is extremely rare.”
“If it still hasn’t ended by the end of the month, you should get a comprehensive examination.”
“Your pheromones are too strong. Differentiation can cause hormonal imbalance. If necessary, an alpha with high compatibility can perform pheromone guidance for you.”
Shen Jin put it together.
The rough meaning was that he might be an incomplete beta.
His body wanted to become a beta, but he still carried pheromones.
It was as if the pheromones were protesting the body’s transformation.
Did Shen Jin find the differentiation painful?
Not really.
In fact, that very night, he’d happily celebrated by ordering cola and fried chicken.
Omegas had to find a strong support, like dodder vines. They could only survive by clinging to a sturdy tree.
Every time he saw someone being controlled by pheromones, he thought betas were wonderful.
They didn’t lose themselves.
On the night he differentiated, he hadn’t even dared to believe something that good could happen to him.
So this was what people meant by “koi luck.”
Betas were great.
Betas were forever god-tier.
Unfortunately, a problem had appeared.
His differentiation had glitched halfway through.
The process refused to reach its finale, and faint traces of omega pheromones kept surfacing on and off.
Along with that came fatigue, weakness, and muscle aches.
Shen Jin had no choice but to keep using blockers and pheromone suppressants so he could continue passing as a beta at school.
He could only pray that these were small stumbling stones on the path to success, and that the final result wouldn’t be affected.
After two bottles of IV drip, his stomach finally felt much better. He picked up his medicine and went home.
The house was pitch-black.
Uncle Feng said his father had gone on a business trip, and Xie Yan had taken Shen Xie’an to attend the Ke family’s wedding banquet.
Logically speaking, this kind of banquet shouldn’t have excluded Shen Jin.
His parents seemed to have forgotten him anyway.
Shen Jin refused Uncle Feng’s offer to stay and cook. Even though his stomach didn’t hurt as much, he had no appetite.
Back in his room, he tossed down his bag, found some sliced bread in the cabinet, took a few bites, then collapsed onto the bed and buried his face in the blanket.
Sleep came quickly.
Some time later, in the hazy darkness of night, Shen Jin opened his eyes groggily.
As soon as he opened his door, he heard lively voices downstairs.
It was his mother and his younger brother, who just got back.
When she saw him come down, Xie Yan’s smile faded. Shen Xie’an asked, “Ge, is your stomach okay?”
“I’m fine,” Shen Jin said.
He went straight to the kitchen to pour water.
The laughter in the living room disappeared.
Sometimes, he felt like he was the outsider in this family.
He was the Shen family’s biological child.
He wasn’t adopted. He wasn’t brought in from elsewhere.
Back when Xie Yan gave birth to him, she suffered an amniotic fluid embolism. She’d gone into shock several times in the hospital bed, her breathing failing, her life hanging by a thread.
Shen Qing, who loved Xie Yan deeply, had, for the first time, hated this child when he saw his wife barely clinging to life.
Xie Yan stayed in intensive care for a long time. When she finally woke, she learned that on the very day she gave birth, her own older sister had died in the same hospital.
Shen Jin’s birth was like a hammer.
It shattered Xie Yan’s body, and it shattered the people she cared about, piece by piece.
Xie Yan developed postpartum depression. She couldn’t take care of a newborn properly at all.
So Shen Bo made the decision to send Shen Jin to be raised by relatives on Xie Yan’s side.
It wasn’t until Shen Jin was eight, after Xie Yan had already safely given birth to her second child, Shen Xie’an, five years earlier, and the Shen family’s finances had gradually improved, that they brought Shen Jin back.
Even then, the complicated feelings they’d had toward that infant, combined with eight years of distance, left them unsure how to interact with Shen Jin.
Slowly, Shen Jin became someone who existed outside the Shen family.
After drinking his water, Shen Jin started upstairs.
Xie Yan called out to stop him.
“We went to the Ke family’s eldest young master’s wedding banquet,” she said. “We couldn’t stay with you.”
“I understand,” Shen Jin replied.
Faced with her cold, distant eldest son, Xie Yan didn’t know what to do with herself.
She thought for a long time, then chose a topic she had to address.
“The Ke family spoke with me privately. They said that your differentiation into a beta is irreversible. As for your engagement…”
She hesitated. “What do you think?”
The original wording hadn’t been pleasant. Xie Yan didn’t intend to let Shen Jin hear it.
Just thinking of the Ke relatives’ faintly mocking eyes when the topic came up made her throat feel blocked.
Shen Jin had had a betrothal fiancé since childhood, the Ke family’s pampered youngest young master.
He was a senior at Nanhu. He’d gone abroad recently as an exchange student, and he was still in closed training, unable to contact the outside world.
Shen Jin understood the Ke family’s meaning perfectly.
The Shen family had been reaching far above their station to begin with. Now, what right did they have to remain engaged to the Ke family’s precious young master?
“I want to break off the engagement,” Shen Jin said.
Even if he didn’t say it, the Ke family would find a way to force it eventually.
It was better to take the first step and leave both families some dignity.
Before this, both families had believed they were childhood sweethearts, that they were destined to become husbands.
“Xiao Jin, think carefully,” Xie Yan said, pausing. “For the sake of their reputation, the Ke family won’t be the one to propose breaking it off. Besides, you and Ah Huai grew up together. You have a foundation.”
“With your current situation, if you end it, you might never find someone that good to marry again.”
“Mother thinks you’ll be angry because if I break it off, you lose your money tree?” Shen Jin asked calmly, as if he were simply curious.
Xie Yan’s face filled with anger. “Do you even know what you’re saying?!”
Shen Jin lowered his eyes.
“I heard it,” he said.
“Heard what?”
“When I came back home at eight, you and Father were talking in the study.”
“You said our family could only prosper because of the engagement with the Ke family.”
“You said that if there wasn’t an engagement, then this child’s existence was a bit unnecessary.”
“That was…”
Xie Yan fell silent.
Shen Jin didn’t need an answer.
Once again, mother and son parted on bad terms.
Back in his room, Shen Jin picked up a biography and began to read, but none of the words truly entered his mind.
Even though Qian Kun’s speed earlier had dealt him a blow, he should’ve been doing more practice problems, building up for the remaining subjects tomorrow.
He couldn’t bring himself to.
His phone kept vibrating. Class 9’s group chat was probably exploding.
He received plenty of private messages from classmates checking on him, so he replied directly in the group with a [I’m tough.jpg] sticker.
Luo Ying squealed. [Ice God, you can stay cold and cool, okay? Don’t unlock a new genre, I can’t take it~~]
A knock sounded at his door. A cautious voice followed.
“Ge, can I come in?”
“Mm.”
Shen Xie’an carried a tray in and placed it beside Shen Jin’s desk.
“Mom made this.”
Shen Jin looked at the celadon bowl. Inside was steaming seafood congee, dotted with pink shrimp, diced ham, shredded radish, bright green scallions, and a few drops of olive oil glistening on the surface.
It looked delicious.
Shen Jin could tell at a glance that it was Xie Yan’s cooking. She was genuinely talented, even if she rarely cooked with her own hands.
Shen Jin looked at his younger brother.
Shen Xie’an suddenly felt as if he’d been seen through.
“You begged Mother to make it?” Shen Jin asked.
One said “Mother.” One said “Mom.” The closeness spoke for itself.
Shen Xie’an wanted to explain for her, but he didn’t want to make their already fragile relationship worse, so he mumbled, “N-not exactly…”
Shen Jin said bluntly, “She didn’t tell you to bring it to me, did she?”
Shen Xie’an tried to argue. “If she didn’t object, that means she agreed!”
Shen Jin shook his head. “Where did you learn that crooked logic?”
Shen Xie’an couldn’t read his brother’s mood at all. He didn’t dare mention the engagement either.
Was his future brother-in-law about to change?
He quickly edited a message to someone across the ocean.
Huai-ge, if you don’t come back soon, your wife is going to run away!
He hit send, then leaned against Shen Jin like a little accessory.
“Ge, you haven’t eaten since you came back from the hospital. Eat a little, at least.”
“No appetite,” Shen Jin said.
Shen Xie’an was stuck in the middle. “Mom’s actually worried too. She just can’t stop her mouth.”
Shen Jin didn’t expose him.
Compared to words, what they’d done over the years had carved itself far deeper into his memory.
He patted Shen Xie’an’s head.
Shen Xie’an turned a little dizzy from it and said, “Even if you don’t want to, you still have to force something down. You already have chronic gastritis.”
“I know,” Shen Jin replied. “I’ll eat.”
After sending his younger brother away, the room fell quiet again.
Shen Jin waited until the congee was nearly cool before swallowing it, bite by bite.
He felt like a thief.
Stealing the motherly love that belonged only to Shen Xie’an.
*
The next day, the remaining exams ended, and the class erupted in cheers.
They’d long been abused by big exams and small exams alike, yet finishing one still felt like a short vacation every time.
In Class 9’s words, this was called remembering bitterness to cherish sweetness.
Most of the papers were machine-graded, which meant the results would come out that very night.
No one was given time to breathe.
The two sides temporarily called a truce, waiting for evening self-study to reveal the verdict.
Meanwhile, the two bosses anchoring the factions sat calmly in their own seats.
One was leisurely gaming.
The other was taking class notes.
By the third period, the PE committee member, Hou Ruixing, came over to Shen Jin’s desk.
Shen Jin looked up. Those eyes, cold enough to shame frost and snow, landed on him.
Hou Ruixing froze, forgetting why he’d come in the first place.
Shen Jin reminded him, “You’re here to register people?”
Hou Ruixing stared at the form in his own hand and finally snapped back. “R-right. Next period is PE, and it’s swimming. You…”
Then he blurted, “You’re a beta, right?”
Shen Jin’s eyelid twitched.
He was careless and had overlooked this.
There was an unspoken rule for swimming class. Omegas were considered in need of protection and were exempt.
That was why Shen Jin had never taken swimming before, and why it hadn’t occurred to him.
Betas and alphas, on the other hand, had to participate. It counted toward their final PE grade.
Everyone at school knew about Shen Jin’s differentiation now. If he turned around and said he hadn’t fully differentiated, that he was still half an omega, who would believe it?
The whole class looked over.
Even Qian Kun’s gaze fell on him.
More precisely, it landed on the suppressor patch at the back of Shen Jin’s neck.
“F*ck, Brother Kun, why’d you go dig up a corpse?”
“My hand slipped,” Qian Kun said casually.
He watched his game character get ambushed and fall dead on the spot, then closed the game interface without hesitation.
Class 9 had swimming next period.
The news swept through the school forum in an instant.
[Why does Class 9 making it to the front page over swimming class feel like our school is so broke it’s even trying to monetize a tiny forum?]
[Are you stupid? Ice God!!! He’s a beta now!!]
[Why are you omegas getting excited? What does this have to do with you?!]
[Who wouldn’t want Ice God?!]
[Ahhhhhh, is this something I can watch for free?!]
Author’s Note:
Kun-kun: ……%￥#&
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