After Swapping Souls with My Rival Alpha - Chapter 11

It was only after Nie Yijun stepped back that Chi Mu realized she had been kissed. Without thinking, she raised her hand and slapped Nie Yijun.

“Smack.” The sound was loud and sharp.

“Sorry,” Nie Yijun said, completely unruffled. “I was just testing something. Seems I misjudged.”

Before she could finish, a wave of dizziness hit Chi Mu. Darkness clouded her vision. Nie Yijun looked down—this dizziness felt strangely familiar.

It was just like that day after the fight.

“Chi Mu, are you dizzy?” Nie Yijun looked up, startled into silence.

The face in front of her wasn’t her own—it was Chi Mu’s.

She glanced down at her body. Yes, it was her—herself, not Chi Mu.

Chi Mu, too, touched her own face, confused. It was burning.

Had they switched back?

Yes. She could smell her own crabapple blossoms pheromones on herself again—they had switched back.

Their eyes met for a brief moment. Chi Mu lunged forward, grabbing Nie Yijun by the collar. “Since we’ve switched back, I won’t dwell on your harassment—but don’t ever come near me again.”

She reached into Nie Yijun’s pocket, pulled out her own phone, and tossed Nie Yijun’s phone back at her. Without another word, she left the room.

Once in the car, she rubbed her face in the rearview mirror. It burned. She hadn’t hit hard, so why did it hurt this much?

Her gaze drifted to her lips. Hadn’t she just kissed herself?

What a damn ridiculous experience.

Chi Mu dialed Zhou Anxue’s number and started the car, planning to head to her place. The girl was indeed pleasant—sweet smile, sweet voice. Just having her around for a while would be nice.

“Sorry, the number you dialed is temporarily unavailable.”

“Sorry, the number you dialed is temporarily unavailable.”

“Sorry.”

Chi Mu slammed the brakes and ended the call. The girl looked soft and sweet, but she could be ruthless. In under an hour, she had blocked Chi Mu completely.

Chi Mu turned the wheel toward home. If Zhou Anxue didn’t want contact, she wouldn’t force it. There were plenty of Omegas in the world.

The marks on her face from the scuffle with Nie Yijun would fade by tomorrow. By tomorrow night, she’d go out and meet someone!

Back home, dinner had already finished. The first floor was quiet; only Aunt Gao was tidying up while watching TV.

“Chi Mu’s back!”

“I’m back,” Chi Mu said, taking off her shoes. “Auntie, can you make me some dumplings?”

“Oh, you haven’t eaten tonight?” Aunt Gao immediately set down her things. “I’ll cook some for you. Perfect timing—it’s the shepherd’s purse filling we made yesterday.”

Walking toward the stairs, Chi Mu called out, “I’m going to shower. Put the dumplings on the third-floor counter!”

“Got it!”

Chi Xi sat in her wheelchair at the top of the stairs, staring straight at Chi Mu. Chi Mu slowed her pace—Chi Xi was likely waiting for her.

Why would Chi Xi be waiting? Had Nie Yijun done something in the past few days?

Chi Mu walked slowly toward her, one hand in her pocket, trying to appear casual. Step by step, she approached, never stopping. Chi Xi didn’t call out. Chi Mu climbed the stairs, keeping her back straight, and reached the third floor in one go. Only after confirming Chi Xi couldn’t see her did she take her hand out of her pocket.

Her palm was sweating.

She sank into the bathtub, letting the warm water soothe her. The past few days had been like a hazy dream—but thankfully, she had awakened from it.

It felt good to just be herself.

But, why had a kiss been enough to switch them back? What kind of logic was that?

“Be kind to others, be kind to yourself. Where there is a way for others, there is a retreat for oneself. In doing good, even if blessings do not arrive, misfortune has already been kept at bay. Where you can forgive, forgive.”

So, a kiss was “being kind to others”?

Where did such convoluted logic even come from?

Never mind. She wouldn’t have anything to do with Nie Yijun again.

Chi Mu grabbed her phone and deleted all of Nie Yijun’s WeChat contacts and phone numbers. Even one extra second saved in her phone felt like disrespect.

Meanwhile, in the hospital:

A nurse carefully lifted the bandages from the patient’s neck. The Omega’s still-bleeding glands were fully exposed, torn from her body and visibly deteriorating.

The patient was under anesthesia, oblivious, but the sight sent a chill through the onlookers.

The nurse cautiously redressed the wound. Director Fang gestured for everyone to leave the room.

Once outside, he spoke. “As you’ve seen, Cheng Hui’s glands have detached more than five centimeters—a critically dangerous state. The safest approach is surgical removal. But the problem is her Alpha—still in ICU after a car accident, suffering from polyning disorder. Her recovery relies entirely on their high compatibility. Without the glands, her Alpha will likely.” He trailed off. “She refuses to give up on her Alpha and won’t consent to gland removal. Any suggestions?”

Nie Yijun, standing at the back as a visiting doctor, remained silent.

“How likely is her Alpha to survive?” asked a female doctor. “We must prioritize her life. Removing the glands ensures she survives. We can’t ignore a living patient to consider one in ICU.”

Director Fang replied, “Whether the Alpha survives depends on whether they regain consciousness by 5 a.m. tomorrow. Otherwise, brain death is likely. But Cheng Hui’s glands cannot wait—they must be operated on today.”

He led the doctors to his office, reviewing Cheng Hui’s CT scans. “I have an idea—gland transplantation.”

Nie Yijun flinched slightly.

“All of you have performed gland transplant surgeries. Do you think this plan is feasible?”

The doctors exchanged glances. One said, “Omega glands are more fragile than Alphas’. Where would we even store them outside the body?”

Director Fang rotated a human anatomical model on his desk and shook his head. “I’ve thought about it extensively, but haven’t found an answer.”

They deliberated. Transplantation seemed the best, perhaps the only, option. But placement was a critical problem—every suggested site had complications.

Helpless, with Cheng Hui’s time running out, Director Fang went back to the ward to discuss whether gland removal could still be the best course of action.

Nie Yijun followed him. “Director Fang, I have an idea. I’m not sure if it’s feasible.”

“Hm?” Director Fang looked at her. “Go ahead.”

“My chest,” Nie Yijun said. “I think it’s the best spot for grafting. Back in Country Y, my doctoral advisor performed a similar procedure—and it was successful.”

Director Fang narrowed his eyes, considering for a moment. Then suddenly, his face brightened. He clapped his hands. “I think it’s doable! Let’s go to the office and discuss the details.”

“Director Fang, I have another request,” Nie Yijun added. “I’d like to observe you during the surgery.”

“Sure!”

Chi Mu lifted her glass, clinking it with the friends around her. “Tonight, we drink until we can’t anymore!”

“Clink!” Several glasses touched.

Chi Mu drank, then draped her right arm around the Omega next to her, Zhao Tongtong, bringing her close. The scent of lilac still made her feel at ease.

She flicked Zhao Tongtong’s earring. “Dance with me.”

The Omega pursed her lips and leaned into her. “Sis, about earlier today.”

Chi Mu understood immediately and chuckled helplessly. “And yet you still drank?”

“Of course,” Zhao Tongtong replied, nuzzling her shoulder. “You finally invited us out. I can’t not show face.”

Chi Mu smiled and snapped her fingers. A server immediately came over to their booth.

“Some juice, please,” she said.

“Oh, see, Miss Chi is so thoughtful,” said her friend Ji Hong.

“Absolutely,” Qi Shu’er, sitting beside Chi Mu, nodded. “I wish I was an Omega.”

Chi Mu pushed her head away. “Go bother someone else.”

Qi Shu’er straightened, took a cup of juice from the tray, and said, “Just enjoying the glow.”

“Order whatever you want. No need to just leech off me,” Chi Mu said, placing a glass of juice in front of Zhao Tongtong. “No more alcohol.”

“Okay.” Zhao Tongtong smiled brightly and whispered, “I’ll dance for you once it’s over.”

Chi Mu nodded and ruffled her hair.

The first half of the night at the bar was relatively calm; the second half would get lively. Chi Mu enjoyed the chaos, drinking, chatting, playing rock-paper-scissors, and watching the vibrant stage shows.

The jumble of noise felt comforting—it was her comfort zone.

“What’s going on between you and Zhou Anxue?” Zhao Tongtong leaned against her shoulder, asking softly over the din.

“Nothing,” Chi Mu said.

“But I saw her post on social media yesterday, scolding you.”

Chi Mu took a sip of her drink. “She deserved it.”

“So, you two,” Zhao Tongtong hesitated.

Chi Mu didn’t elaborate—it had only been a fleeting, unsuccessful encounter. She leaned back on the sofa, tapping Zhao Tongtong’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, it won’t affect us.”

“I know.” Zhao Tongtong sipped her juice, wanting to say more but feeling it wasn’t right. Chi Mu was perfect: easy to talk to, gentle, attentive, thoughtful, and generous toward Omegas. Yet she treated all Omegas the same—no romantic inclinations toward anyone in particular.

Zhao Tongtong had known her for over three years, seen Chi Mu close to countless Omegas, and had watched her date. Her presence next to Chi Mu always felt strange—Chi Mu was kind to her, but never in a romantic way.

People were naturally greedy, especially when facing someone like Chi Mu: kind, wealthy, and beautiful. Zhao Tongtong couldn’t help but have other thoughts.

“Can you come to my place tonight?” Zhao Tongtong asked. “I’ve choreographed a new dance, not released yet, and I want you to see it first.”

“You’re not,” Chi Mu glanced at her stomach. “Can you still dance?”

“You underestimate me,” Zhao Tongtong smiled. “Even with a fever in the troupe, I still dance.”

“Alright.” Chi Mu flicked her earrings playfully.

Zhao Tongtong bit her lip, unable to hide her grin—she knew Chi Mu wouldn’t refuse.

By the time they left the bar, it was past 3 a.m. At the entrance, after saying goodbye to friends, Chi Mu called a driver and got into the car with Zhao Tongtong.

Perhaps from drinking too much, Chi Mu felt dizzy. She leaned back, and Zhao Tongtong pressed gently on her temples.

Her touch was soft and soothing.

“Why don’t you sleep early tonight? I’ll dance for you tomorrow morning.”

“Can’t I see it tonight and in the morning?” Chi Mu murmured with her eyes closed.

After a moment of silence, the gentle pressure on her temples disappeared, replaced by a strange beeping.

Opening her eyes, Chi Mu saw a group of men and women in blue-green uniforms, wearing masks and caps. Her eyes widened. Above her, a display screen showed a bleeding wound.

“Ah!” Chi Mu screamed, completely unprepared.