After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 14

The Jin residence glowed softly as the afternoon light filtered through gauzy curtains, scattering patterns of gold across the room.

Jin Yunxi sat beside Yan Qingruo, brow faintly furrowed, her expression focused. In her hand, a swab dipped in iodine traced carefully over the wound on Qingruo’s neck—her movements efficient, yet impossibly gentle.

Her lashes lowered as she deliberately avoided meeting Qingruo’s gaze. Her voice was cool, almost chastising:

“Why were you so careless?”

The tone was cold, but the tenderness in her touch betrayed her.

Qingruo bit her lip, hesitated, then spoke softly:

“I saw Queen Lin Ruxi… right before your speech ended. Did she… trouble you?”

Her voice was light, tinged with concern. Her eyes clung to the Alpha’s profile, desperate to detect even the faintest trace of humiliation or hurt.

Yunxi’s hands didn’t pause, her focus still on the wound. Calmly, she asked,

“How did this happen?”

The scratch was faint, almost as though left by a kitten’s paw. But they didn’t have a cat in the house—Yunxi’s mind tightened with suspicion.

When she didn’t answer, Qingruo suddenly lifted her hands and cupped Yunxi’s face, turning her head firmly toward her.

“Ah Yun, look at me. Did the Queen do something to you?”

Yunxi’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable.

“She’s a forceful woman. Don’t overthink it.”

In truth, she had simply agreed to Lin Ruxi’s conditions: a business trip abroad, with her at Lin’s side the entire time. She had once declined politely, citing prior obligations. But this time Lin had offered her crucial help—refusing again would have been impossible.

Without elaborating, Yunxi returned to her task and pressed further:

“You still haven’t told me how you got hurt.”

Qingruo lowered her head, her fingers tugging at the hem of her clothes. Her voice was as small as a whisper.

“I… bumped into something.”

Yunxi let out a quiet laugh, her lips curving faintly.

“Your neck? You managed to bump your neck?”

She leaned closer, her breath brushing against Qingruo’s skin as she inspected the wound.

Qingruo shivered, her body betraying her. Her face flushed a delicate pink, her neck shrinking back instinctively from the Alpha’s proximity.

Yunxi sighed once she had looked carefully. She wanted to remain detached, but the truth stirred something in her.

“Don’t scratch yourself again. Lin Ruxi can’t do anything to me.”

Qingruo blinked.

“You guessed?”

Yunxi neatly packed away the gauze and swabs, answering slowly:

“There was no need to guess. The signs are obvious enough.”

Her training in criminology lent her an unerring eye.

Qingruo’s lips quirked mischievously.

“Really? Then smell again.”

Her meaning was different this time.

Hooking an arm around Yunxi’s neck, she drew her closer.

“Ah Yun, since you’re so skilled, can you smell what I’m thinking now?”

With her pressed so tightly against Qingruo’s pale throat, Yunxi could only sigh helplessly.

“No. I can’t.”

But faint night-blooming jasmine drifted from Qingruo’s skin—so faint Yunxi thought it might be her imagination.

Then Qingruo’s lips parted, and she bit lightly at the patch of skin where Yunxi’s inhibitor patch rested.

“—Tss!”

Her teeth grazed, her tongue soothed the sting, and she drank in the sound of the Alpha’s involuntary hiss.

“What are you doing?” Yunxi caught her fidgeting hands, her voice tense.

“Disinfecting,” Qingruo murmured, her tone soft as silk. She licked the spot again and whispered, “I saw her touch your neck.”

Yunxi fell silent. Was Qingruo secretly part eagle?

“And if you let her touch you again?” Qingruo hummed dangerously, her voice carrying a hint of threat.

Was she planning to bite this spot raw?

“Then I… won’t talk to you anymore.”

Yunxi exhaled in relief, only to pause. Did she really need to explain herself to Qingruo?

But the woman clung stubbornly, forcing her into a promise. Yunxi gave in, though unease flickered deep within. To Qingruo, she was just a stand-in for the person in her heart.

Qingruo nestled deeper into her arms, refusing to let go. Looking at Yunxi’s cool, intent profile, she asked softly:

“Ah Yun… do you still remember the first time we met?”

Yunxi’s hand stilled. She looked up, a faint shadow of doubt crossing her eyes.

“Why ask that all of a sudden?”

Qingruo’s lips curved in a small, bittersweet smile.

“No reason. I just can’t remember… and it feels like such a pity.”

Their first meeting? Yunxi frowned faintly, searching her memory. The garden… Qingruo being bullied by servants. She had stepped in, unable to bear it.

But the details blurred. She finally said, a little sullenly,

“I don’t really remember. It was probably just an ordinary afternoon.”

“Just that?” Qingruo’s disappointment pressed at her. She shifted, about to rise from Yunxi’s embrace—

And in that instant, her face tilted up. Her lips brushed Yunxi’s.

A fleeting kiss, lingering three seconds that stretched into eternity.

Yunxi’s pupils contracted sharply, her body going taut. She had never imagined losing her first kiss this way.

Her lips parted in shock, her mind a chaos of thoughts. She and Qingruo “should have” kissed countless times already, according to Yatlands’ online chatter. She should be an old hand at this—definitely not a novice!

The more she tried to suppress the storm inside, the faster her heart pounded. She forced a deep breath, struggling for calm.

On the surface, she was composed. But at her temple, sweat beaded.

Qingruo too was stunned, her cheeks burning crimson. She clapped a hand over her lips, heart hammering wildly. Sneaking a glance, she saw Yunxi seemingly calm, merely pressing her lips together—so indifferent that disappointment pricked at her.

Desperate to break the tension, Qingruo blurted,

“Ah Yun… the breakfast you made today was really delicious.”

Yunxi arched a brow, the corner of her lips twitching upward.

“Flattering me now? You and I both know it was average.”

Qingruo shook her head earnestly.

“No, really. It was the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

Her eyes shone with sincerity. For a moment, Yunxi felt something strange stir inside her. She looked away quickly, murmuring,

“Then… eat more next time.”

Next time? Qingruo’s eyes lit up even brighter.

Yunxi gave a restrained nod. She secretly resolved to scour the Little Red Potato app for recipes—no more buyer-show vs. seller-show disasters in front of Qingruo.

Qingruo leaned closer still, unusually clingy today. Maybe it was the vulnerability of her injury, or maybe just her own neediness—she wanted to breathe in Yunxi’s scent, wanted to press herself closer and closer.

Unbeknownst to her, the wound at her nape had stirred her Omega glands. They were aligning, catalyzing—an SS-class Omega whose perfect match was Yunxi’s pheromones.

The faint kiss earlier had flung open a forbidden door.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

Her gaze grew hazy, her fingers pulling at Yunxi’s belt, sliding along the slim curve of her waist.

Yunxi’s hand clamped down, halting her. A sudden dryness in her throat, she pressed the call button on her wrist device and ordered the AI butler,

“Bring me a glass of water.”

But Qingruo only licked her lips, a tiny flick of her tongue that made Yunxi swallow hard, her ears flushing crimson as she averted her eyes.

Why was she suddenly thirsty all the time? Absurd.

The butler soon appeared with water. Yunxi drank in one gulp—only for the device to beep insistently:

【Warning: Host requires immediate therapeutic massage.】

Yunxi quickly lowered the volume. “I’m fine.”

But the butler was persistent:

【Host, ten minutes ago your pace was too fast. Your leg injury has worsened. Treatment recommended!】

The mood shattered.

Qingruo froze. Realization struck. Yunxi’s leg pain had worsened because she had rushed back—rushed, just to see her.

Her eyes misted red. “I’m sorry, Ah Yun…”

Still in her arms, Yunxi caught the faint fragrance of jasmine from Qingruo’s nape. Without thinking, she inhaled deeply—and to her shock, her damaged glands stirred, heat spreading even into her long-cold legs.

She caught herself abruptly, tapped Qingruo’s shoulder, and gently but firmly pulled away. Her voice was even, if a touch strained:

“Qingruo, could you fetch the therapy kit for me?”

“Of course. Wait here.”

Qingruo blinked back tears, scrambled up from Yunxi’s lap, though her knees nearly buckled. She cursed herself inwardly for being so weak… so shamelessly desperate.

Watching her leave, Yunxi frowned. The jasmine scent dissipated, and the old chill crept back into her limbs. She recalled what the doctor had said when Qingruo left the hospital—that she might experience temporary Omega symptoms. Yunxi had even prepared suppressant doses in advance.

So… Qingruo’s clinging, her neediness—just symptoms of a pseudo-Omega cycle. That was all.

But then why had she, a broken Alpha, felt her own instincts stir? Why the sudden craving for touch, the echo of skin hunger?

Was it really just sympathy? Or had she begun to crave Qingruo herself?

She almost wanted to crush her tighter, draw her into her very bones.

Yunxi drew a long breath, fingers turning the celadon prayer beads around her wrist, restless and unsettled.

When the head bead brushed her thigh, the familiar ache in her knee… faded.

She froze. Shock jolted through her chest.

Her legs—were they beginning to heal?