After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 36

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The long-dormant glands at the back of her neck pulsed with a forgotten vitality, the half-ruined tissue reviving overnight.

Jin Yunxi opened her eyes to a room steeped in the cloying sweetness of pheromones. A pale arm was draped across her waist, and the woman beside her lay nestled in the crook of her arm, fast asleep. Strands of inky hair clung to the sheen of sweat beading her collarbone.

Her fingers twitched. The soft sheets beneath them were creased like crushed petals, marred by faint traces of moisture that had dried into winding rivulets.

The violence of the night was plain to see.

The curtains swayed with the morning breeze, stirring the air heavy with spring-like fragrance.

Jin Yunxi’s hand recoiled as though scalded from the woman’s waist. A memory surfaced—pushing open this very door years ago, only to find Yan Qingruo sitting by the bay window, divorce papers in hand, face expressionless as she said, “President Jin, it’s time for your signature.”

Now, that same woman’s flawless back rose and fell with each breath, delicate waist marred by the faint, damning crescent of fingermarks.

She thought she was dreaming. Dreaming that she had spent the night with the woman who haunted her.

Every detail—her scent, her presence—was Yan Qingruo’s shadow.

Yet she was an Omega. And so, she had let herself go.

Jin Yunxi licked her palate, fingertips grazing her canine teeth. The taste of last night still clung to her throat: an Omega’s intoxicating bloom, jasmine tangled with daffodil and the sweetness of ripe peach.

Never had she imagined that, after being injected with that experimental drug by thugs, triggered by yesterday’s white mist and golden pill, Yan Qingruo would suddenly differentiate into an Omega.

And if she guessed right—an SS-class Omega.

Pressing a hand to her forehead, Jin Yunxi pushed herself upright. The silk quilt slipped down, revealing a dark blotch staining the sheets—blood, blooming like a red rose, beautiful and ruined.

Memory surged back like a tide. The woman arching her slender neck toward her mouth, offering it to her bite. The smooth white back damp with sweat, bowing like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon—fragile, trembling on the edge of life and death.

And sometimes, between death and ecstasy, there was only a single word’s difference.

She must have felt good, didn’t she? Jin Yunxi thought.

In the bathroom, the mirror and tiles bore streaks of dampness, their source all too clear. Jin Yunxi’s eyelids twitched hard. She scooped cold water into her palms, splashed her face, and lifted her gaze. The woman in the mirror stared back, cheeks still flushed, collarbone branded with the red imprint of teeth, shoulders and back lined with claw marks.

Her eyes shimmered with the residue of last night’s storm, waves still cresting in their depths. She coughed, forcing composure, but the stickiness on her fingertips and the tremor in her abdomen betrayed her. Her grip tightened on the marble counter as her ears flushed crimson in the reflection.

The night replayed itself against the bathroom walls, across the tiles, along the grooves of the mirror—

“No… don’t look there.”

“Ah Yun, you’re terrible.”

“Don’t~”

Yan Qingruo’s wet lashes brushed her palm. One hand pressed against the wall, the other clutching hers tight, from bathroom to bedroom…

Her knees trembling against the bed’s edge, while she—despite her injured leg—pinned her beneath her weight…

At the end, she had turned Yan Qingruo’s face toward her, only for the woman to wrap herself around her neck, demanding another kiss…

And then—biting into her nape, marking her with pheromones, claiming her…

Jin Yunxi exhaled raggedly, fumbling for the shower. The woman in the mirror was no longer composed, no longer detached.

Hot water coursed down taut calves. The leg she once limped on now lifted with ease, supporting her weight without strain. Where before even leaning against the wall had been torture, every step bone-grinding—now, impossibly, she stood freely.

The chill that had seeped into her marrow for years was replaced by warmth.

…

Later, Jin Yunxi stared at the numbers ticking upward on the company elevator—26th floor. In the mirrored walls she looked back at herself: younger, vibrant, alive in a way she hadn’t been in years.

It was as if spring had suddenly bloomed in her life, as if a door to joy had been opened—not merely physical, but in spirit too.

Yaqi’s words echoed in her mind: “Maybe if you fully consummate things with Yan Qingruo—let her pseudo-pheromones soak into your skin, your blood, even your bones—your glands might recover. Your leg might even heal…”

She hadn’t believed it then.

By the third mistake on a report, her assistant Jin Fan spoke up carefully: “President Jin, the ink is dripping onto the project file—be careful not to stain your cuff.”

“Oh, right!”

She took off her glasses, pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to shake off her daze, trying to focus on contracts she once read with sharp interest but now couldn’t bring herself to care about.

Shifting in her chair, she winced. The leather seat pressed uncomfortably against her waist; her lower belly still seemed to remember the warmth of Yan Qingruo’s palm.

The memory rose unbidden—her voice whispering in her ear last night, “Ah Yun, why are you so tight here?”

The pen cap clicked open and shut in her hands, again and again, until she slammed it down. Abruptly she pushed herself to her feet, striding to the rooftop for air.

But when her fingers brushed the inhibitor patch at her neck, a phantom ache flared—memories of last night flooding back. Yan Qingruo biting her hand and sobbing that it hurt, only to beg her to move faster when she tried to pull away.

Teeth sinking into her shoulder, the piercing ache giving way to dizzying, drowning pleasure—

Utterly embarrassing—stop it.

Jin Yunxi pressed a hand to her forehead and decided to make a round through the different departments at the company.

“Hey, did you notice? President Jin’s leg seems to be fine now.” Someone whispered to a colleague in the pantry.

“Did you forget? Every time the weather warms up, her condition always looks less serious.”

“But the weather’s been strange lately. It’s not even warm today.”

It was like a dead tree, frozen stiff for over a decade, suddenly sprouting new buds. Today, President Jin looked as if she was brimming with spring—though somewhat absentminded. Assistant Jin even said the coffee he’d been sent a few times had gone cold, untouched.

“Meeting.” Jin Yunxi knocked on the door, and the gossiping employees scattered like startled birds.

The blue glow from the projector made her dizzy. She tugged loose the silk scarf at her collar, trying to dispel the heat, only to find the black musical notes on the presentation twisting and morphing into Yan Qingruo’s damp lashes…

She remembered the woman’s wet lashes, glistening with tears, whispering, “Ah Yun, look at me. Don’t turn away from my eyes.”

The pencil in her palm snapped with a sharp crack.

“Meeting adjourned.”

Her medication-monitoring app pinged: someone had opened the box of emergency contraception. A faint unease pricked her chest. Would Yan Qingruo be angry?

She’d heard the pill wasn’t good for the body, but she wasn’t sure whether last night carried any real risk of pregnancy.

She was worried an accidental pregnancy might hurt Yan Qingruo—especially while her memories were still unstable—and could affect their relationship.

It was simply too soon.

But the thought of last night’s reckless passion—with the Yan Qingruo who hadn’t yet regained her memories—and the fact that she had even accidentally marked her, still left Jin Yunxi deeply unsettled.

“You’re awake? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?” Jin Yunxi typed and deleted messages over and over, never finding the right words. In the end, she instructed the housekeeper, Ivy, to ask the auntie to prepare breakfast tailored to Yan Qingruo’s tastes.

She’d already made something earlier herself, but worried it wouldn’t suit Yan Qingruo.

Her entire heart was wrapped around Yan Qingruo, so much so that she failed to notice she had left behind the pill Louis had given her—the one that could restore Yan Qingruo’s memories.

________________________________________

Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, casting fine shadows beneath Yan Qingruo’s lashes. She opened her eyes. On the pillow lingered the calming scent of cedar. Her waist and abdomen ached with a languid soreness, tinged with a strange, satisfied sweetness.

Thinking back on the wildness of the night, a blush crept across her face. The soreness between her legs and the faint bite marks told her clearly—last night had been her first time. It seemed she really had never been with Jin Yunxi before.

Curling her fingers against the sheets, she noticed the bed linens had already been changed—fresh, smooth, and dry. Aside from the faint ache and marks on her skin, she felt unexpectedly clean, even inside.

The corners of her lips lifted. For someone who often appeared unromantic, that person could be deeply attentive in ways that mattered most.

She sat up, her thin nightgown slipping down to reveal the red marks trailing across her neck and shoulders. Stretching lazily, her hand brushed against something cool—a small box.

Effective within 24 hours.

The words pierced her gaze. A faint flush of shame crept up inside her. Perhaps… Jin Yunxi had been too considerate.

Her heart fell from joy into a soft ache. Did this mean Jin Yunxi truly didn’t want her to carry her child?

After breakfast, Ivy mentioned that President Jin had specifically ordered everything today to be cooked according to her preferences.

Apparently, she’d been busy from early morning, even preparing dishes herself—only to second-guess whether Yan Qingruo would like them, and then asked for everything to be remade.

Warmth welled up in Yan Qingruo’s chest. She toyed with the small pill between her fingertips. Should I really take it?

While tidying their shared bedroom, her mind wandered with gentle anticipation of their future married life. But as she swept under the bed, a capsule-like box rolled out.

Opening it, she found sealed medicine packets. Yan Qingruo frowned in puzzlement. Was this something Ah Yun had left behind?

The packaging was printed in a foreign language—but on the front, in clear handwriting, were the words: To Yan Qingruo.

Her cheeks warmed. At last, a perfect excuse to strike up a conversation. She quickly snapped a photo.

Ah Yun, what is this? Did you forget to take it with you?

Jin Yunxi, staring at her phone in a daze, had the nagging feeling she’d forgotten something important—something other than Yan Qingruo. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember.

When the notification chimed, she snapped alert and opened it at once.

Ah Yun, did you also mean for me to take this one? Yan Qingruo messaged again.

The expiration date is only a few days away. Should I take it now? What kind of medicine is it?

A jolt shot through Jin Yunxi’s heart.

If Yan Qingruo took it, her memories would return immediately. But if she didn’t, could they continue this now-irreversible relationship?

And if, upon remembering, Yan Qingruo realized she had already given herself to her—would she kill her in rage?

Jin Yunxi buried her face in her hands, fighting the urge to slap herself across the cheek.