Little Sweet O Transmigrates Into the Body of the Villainous Fake Young Master - Chapter 2

The symptoms of an allergic reaction usually manifest quickly; within ten minutes, the news should have spread through the estate.

Yingzhi remained curled up in bed, silently counting sheep. He had reached five or six hundred, yet the outside world remained eerily silent.

This isn’t right, he thought. So much time had passed; there should have been some commotion from He Ji’s courtyard by now.

Feeling uneasy, Yingzhi climbed out of bed and crept to the window. From his vantage point, he could see He Ji’s quarters. Only the courtyard lamps were lit. The house itself was pitch black, and even the servants seemed to have turned in for the night.

In the original plot, He Ji’s courtyard should have been swarming with people by now. His parents should have been awakened, and doctors should have been rushing in to treat him.

Instead, there was only a vast, tranquil silence.

Did He Ji simply not eat the walnut crisps?

Although Yingzhi had failed every previous attempt to change the plot, the silence gave him a flicker of hope. He was a mere villainous supporting character, he couldn’t change fate. But He Ji was the protagonist. Perhaps the “Protagonist Energy” was strong enough to rewrite the script?

With that thought, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosened slightly.

He went to the bathroom and drew a hot bath. Ever since he learned He Ji was returning, Yingzhi had been wound tight. He hadn’t eaten or slept well, his mind a constant whirlwind of dread. A soak was exactly what he needed to relax.

If He Ji really had the power to change the plot, then as long as Yingzhi stopped provoking or framing him as the original character did, perhaps he could avoid the humiliating suffering of the future. After all, he wasn’t the real Teng Yingzhi. He bore no ill will toward the true young master.

Yingzhi let out a soft sigh and sank deeper into the water. Wet hair clung to his cheeks, and his brow furrowed with a different kind of worry.

Even if he managed to resolve the conflict with He Ji and escape the “Forced Plot,” his future was still bleak.

Yingzhi had transmigrated with his original body.

He was an Omega, but this world lacked the second gender system of ABO; there were only men and women. In a few days, Yingzhi would turn twenty, which meant his first heat was imminent. But in this world, there were no Alphas and no suppressants.

An Omega’s heat was nothing like an Alpha’s rut. An Alpha could rely on sheer willpower to endure their cycle as long as they weren’t triggered by strong pheromones; a strong-willed Alpha might just become a bit irritable without it affecting their daily life.

Omegas were the complete opposite. Without an Alpha’s pheromones to soothe them or timely injections of suppressants, they faced more than just agonizing physical torment. They faced the shame of their dignity being swallowed by the raw, primal instinct to mate.

The thought cast a heavy shadow over his already low spirits.

In a world without ABO, where would he find an Alpha? Where would he find suppressants?

He felt like sinking his head under the bathwater and just letting the pool swallow him whole when the sudden, distant wail of an ambulance siren cut through the air. It was followed by the frantic footsteps and cries of servants, drifting in through the crack he had left in the window.

Yingzhi froze. Why is an ambulance entering the estate?

He scrambled out of the tub, threw on a bathrobe, and ran to the window despite the freezing wind.

He Ji’s courtyard was now brilliantly lit. The red and blue emergency lights flashed across Yingzhi’s face, reflecting the shock in his eyes. Servants huddled in a perimeter around the courtyard. His parents, clearly just roused from sleep, rushed into the house behind the medical staff, their faces etched with terror.

Yingzhi stood in a daze. He wondered if he had misremembered the script. In the original, He Ji had called for the servants the moment he felt the reaction, summoned the family doctor, and then produced the voice recorder to condemn Yingzhi.

It had been a scandal, but it hadn’t been this dramatic. An ambulance screaming into the estate? Unless they moved aggressively to suppress the news, this would be the talk of the capital’s high society by dawn.

He Ji, the true young master lost for twenty years, was rushed away by an ambulance on his very first night home…

Yingzhi could already imagine the gossip. And he, the fake young master, would be at the center of the storm.

Even without the recording, He Ji only had to tell their parents that Yingzhi had tricked him into eating the allergen for the blame to stick. No one would believe that He Ji, newly returned to wealth, would gamble with his life just to frame someone. The “truth” would simply be that the fake young master felt threatened and couldn’t tolerate the real one.

This move was ruthless.

It left Yingzhi with no room to defend himself. Though he hadn’t planned on lying and had spent two years mentally preparing for the plot, facing He Ji’s blatant, intense malice still left him feeling stifled, indignant, and eventually, profoundly helpless.

He closed the window with a numb expression and sat on the carpet, hugging his knees against the wall. He was shivering—whether from the cold or from fear, he didn’t know. He looked like a small animal driven into the back of a cave by a predator, with no way out.

Ping.

His phone, discarded on the bed, chimed with a notification.

Yingzhi stared at it for a long time before summoning the strength to check it. The message was from a contact whose profile picture was a slice of Tiramisu. The content was just a single period.

A moment later, another message followed: [Returning on the 15th.]

Usually, a simple period from this person would make Yingzhi’s day. Now, his heart was too heavy for joy. He looked at the chat box with a complex mix of avoidance and longing. Finally, his frozen fingers tapped out a reply: [Wasn’t it the 14th?]

The reply was instant: [The 15th.]

Yingzhi wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye. He felt like crying, but he forced his tone to remain bubbly and warm, hiding his helplessness: [Got it! No prob~ Bear thumping chest sticker]

He knew the other person wouldn’t respond again. He tossed the phone aside and burrowed into his blankets. He didn’t even have the energy to dry his hair, falling into a fitful sleep as he was.

******

Yingzhi woke up the next day around noon. As consciousness returned, he was met with a searing pain in his throat and a total lack of strength. His head felt like it was being split open.

“Young Master, you’re awake? Dr. Wang came by; he said you caught a cold and ran a fever. Your temperature just broke after the IV drip this morning. Do you have an appetite for something to eat?” Uncle Lu, the butler, had been at his bedside all morning and spoke with immediate concern.

Yingzhi understood. His constitution was average at best, and a normal person would have fallen ill after letting the winter wind hit their wet hair for so long, let alone a fragile Omega.

“I’m not hungry,” he rasped, looking around the room. Seeing only Uncle Lu, he asked, “Where are my parents?”

Uncle Lu sighed. “Last night, the Second Young Master had an allergic reaction to something he ate, which triggered a heart condition. He’s still in the hospital. The Master and Madam are staying with him.”

So He Ji wasn’t awake yet. If he were, he would have brought the parents back to demand an explanation already.

Yingzhi sighed inwardly. He won’t even give me a quick death.

He spent the entire day in bed. Though the fever had subsided, he still felt miserable. After Uncle Lu coaxed him into drinking some water, he was left alone to rest.

In the evening, Teng Ruicheng and He Xitang finally returned. Their expressions were polar opposites. At their command, the driver took the car directly to the entrance of Yingzhi’s villa.

Teng Ruicheng looked troubled and weary, while He Xitang’s beautiful, well-maintained face was a mask of pure rage, and killing intent.

“Where is Teng Yingzhi? Get him down here!” The moment she entered the hall, before even removing her coat, she let out a furious roar.

Uncle Lu hurried down from the second floor. “Madam, the Young Master had a fever this morning. He’s still unwell and resting.”

He Xitang normally held high expectations for Yingzhi and was strict with his upbringing, but she usually prioritized his health above all else. Today, however, she was different. Her eyes burned with an unyielding anger. “I don’t care if he’s dead! If he is, carry him down here!”

Teng Ruicheng sat nearby, seemingly wanting to intervene, but he ultimately remained silent, waving his hand to signal Uncle Lu to follow the order.

Surprised by their hostility, Uncle Lu didn’t dare ask questions and went upstairs to fetch him.

He Xitang paced the floor, her chest heaving with suppressed fury.

When Yingzhi was woken up, he knew exactly what awaited him. After the long wait, he actually felt a strange sense of calm. He was still in his bathrobe from the night before; he went to the closet, changed into pajamas, and asked softly, “Is He Ji back too?”

Uncle Lu shook his head. “Only the Master and Madam.”

Yingzhi hummed in response and headed out the door first.

The moment he appeared, He Xitang’s gaze pierced him like a blade.

Yingzhi reached the bottom step and whispered, “Dad, Mom. You called for me?”

Between the illness and the stress, Yingzhi looked haggard. His skin was pale, save for an unnatural flush on his cheeks, and his loose pajamas hung precariously on his thin frame. He looked like a sick child who could be knocked over by a stiff breeze.

Teng Ruicheng felt a pang of sympathy and started to stand up.

“Who are you putting on this act for?!” He Xitang ignored his condition entirely. She marched up to Yingzhi, her hand raised high, ready to deliver a stinging slap.

Startled, Teng Ruicheng rushed forward to catch her wrist. “We haven’t cleared everything up yet. You shouldn’t lay a hand on him!”

He Xitang wrenched her hand away, glaring at Yingzhi through gritted teeth. “Cleared what up? Do you honestly think Xiao Ji would joke about his own life?!”

“That’s not what I meant…” Ruicheng said, caught in the middle. He didn’t believe He Ji would lie about his life, but he also didn’t think Yingzhi was capable of such malice. He turned to the boy. “Yingzhi, did you bring your brother walnut crisps last night?”

Yingzhi nodded. He felt a lingering fear from the near-slap, mixed with a deep sense of disappointment and hurt.

“Your brother is allergic to walnuts. I know you like baking, but you have to be careful from now on. Don’t put walnuts in anything you give him,” Ruicheng said, softening his tone after seeing the look in Yingzhi’s eyes.

He Xitang pushed Ruicheng aside. “Be careful?! I saw the look on his face the moment we brought Xiao Ji home. Does he look like he has the heart to bring anyone a ‘kind’ snack? He did it on purpose! Teng Yingzhi, let me make this clear: I am Xiao Ji’s mother, and this is Xiao Ji’s home. If you can’t tolerate him, then get out!”

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