The Crematorium of the Top Omega Chasing After Alpha - Chapter 25.2

Hearing this, Song Qingpei immediately grew interested. “Where’s the problem? Please tell me, I’ll take notes.”

Just then, Murong Ruixue began to feel a subtle warmth spreading through her body, the inducer was clearly taking effect. Watching Song Qingpei’s eager expression, she suddenly felt a twinge of guilt.

Suppressing the heat rising within her, Murong Ruixue patiently explained the issue in detail.

Song Qingpei listened attentively, her expression lighting up with sudden understanding at key moments. Finally, she said sincerely, “Rui Xue, you’re truly amazing. I still have so much to learn.”

After speaking, Song Qingpei immediately began diligently repairing the mecha according to the revised plan, completely failing to notice Murong Ruixue’s gradually reddening face.

Time passed minute by minute.

Murong Ruixue, who had been left neglected on the side, was utterly dumbfounded. She had never encountered such an emotionally dense Alpha.

She could only approach Song Qingpei, pretending to check the mecha’s data.

Her movements were light, but her breathing gradually became rapid, and her cheeks flushed slightly. She stole a glance at Song Qingpei, only to find the other still completely focused on her work, seemingly completely unaware of her unusual state.

Murong Ruixue bit her lip and decided to take things a step further.

She let out a soft “Mmm,” her voice trembling slightly as if struggling to suppress something.

Hearing this, Song Qingpei finally looked up and glanced at her, frowning slightly. “Rui Xue, are you alright?”

Murong Ruixue raised her head, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural redness. “Qingpei, I think my heat cycle is starting again.”

Upon hearing this, Song Qingpei immediately set down her tools and walked over, reaching out to feel Murong Ruixue’s forehead.

Her fingers were cool, and when they touched Murong Ruixue’s skin, it sent a slight shiver through her.

“You do feel a bit warm,” Song Qingpei withdrew her hand and said urgently. “Rui Xue, let me take you to the hospital.”

Murong Ruixue was taken aback, not expecting this kind of reaction from Song Qingpei.

She had thought that even if Song Qingpei wasn’t affected by her pheromones, she would at least show some fluster or embarrassment. Instead, Song Qingpei’s response was incredibly proper, showing nothing but concern without a hint of emotional fluctuation.

“N-no need to go to the hospital, right?” Murong Ruixue tried to resist. “I… I just need to take an inhibitor. Could you help me back to the office to rest first?”

Song Qingpei looked at her, her expression full of worry. “The heat cycle is no small matter. It hasn’t been long since your last one. You should really get checked at the hospital.”

After saying this, she turned and walked to a nearby storage cabinet, took out an inhibitor, and brought it back to Murong Ruixue. “Take this first, and then I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Looking at the inhibitor, Murong Ruixue felt the frustration of having shot herself in the foot.

“Rui Xue?”

Under Song Qingpei’s concerned urging, Murong Ruixue had no choice but to grit her teeth and inject the inhibitor into her arm.

The cool liquid flowed into her veins, gradually calming her body, but her heart was filled with defeat. She had made her intentions so obvious, yet Song Qingpei remained completely unmoved.

Seeing that she had taken the inhibitor, Song Qingpei turned to pick up her coat and said, “Let’s go. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Murong Ruixue said nothing more, silently following behind Song Qingpei.

Song Qingpei, I hate how dense you are.

At the hospital, the doctor examined Murong Ruixue and confirmed that her heat cycle had been suppressed by the inhibitor and she was temporarily fine.

Song Qingpei stayed by her side the entire time, only relaxing after the doctor confirmed she was okay.

The doctor’s tone carried a hint of reproach: “You’re her partner, aren’t you? Why didn’t you bring her to the hospital sooner? Her pheromones are highly unstable, she needs proper rest.”

Song Qingpei froze for a moment before explaining, “I’m not her partner, just a colleague.”

The doctor glanced at Murong Ruixue, then back at Song Qingpei, his voice tinged with resignation. “Regardless of your relationship, she needs someone to care for her right now. Her pheromone fluctuations are severe. After the inhibitor injection, she must rest properly and shouldn’t be left alone.”

After a brief silence, Song Qingpei nodded. “Understood. I’ll wait until she wakes up before leaving.”

Satisfied, the doctor gave a curt nod and left the ward.

Song Qingpei settled into the chair beside the hospital bed, her gaze lingering on Murong Ruixue’s pale face. As she watched, her mind drifted, and a complex emotion flickered in her eyes. In her current weakened state, Murong Ruixue bore an uncanny resemblance to the helpless Ming Yu from the past.

Startled by her own thoughts, Song Qingpei felt a wave of shame and quickly averted her eyes. She stood up and stepped out for some fresh air.

Once Song Qingpei had left, Murong Ruixue slowly opened her eyes, her brows furrowed deeply.

Honestly, I’ve been trying so hard to play the fragile Omega role, why is Song Qingpei still unmoved?

Baffled, she pulled out her phone and dialed Li Man’s number.

“Senior sister, I failed,” Murong Ruixue said, her voice laced with frustration. “I did my best to imitate Ming Yu’s demeanor after she lost her memories, but she remained completely indifferent. She even administered an inhibitor and sent me to the hospital.”

On the other end of the line, Li Man chuckled softly. “It seems Song Qingpei is indeed a tough nut to crack. But don’t worry your pheromones are a perfect match for hers. The experimental data doesn’t lie. Just keep trying; she’ll come around eventually.”

Murong Ruixue hesitated before whispering, “Senior sister, do you think, the teacher’s experiment is truly right? After all, Song Qingpei knows nothing about this. Is it really appropriate for us to?”

Li Man’s voice turned icy in an instant. “Ruixue, don’t forget how you survived. If it weren’t for the teacher’s experiment, you would have died long ago. Right now, all you need to do is follow the plan. Don’t overthink it.”

Murong Ruixue’s heart sank.

She knew Li Man was right. Without the teacher, she wouldn’t be alive today.

“I understand, senior sister,” Murong Ruixue replied softly, her tone resigned.

After hanging up, she leaned back against the hospital bed, Song Qingpei’s worried face replaying in her mind. A dull ache spread through her chest.

“Song Qingpei, I’m sorry,” she murmured under her breath.

The ward was eerily silent, the only sound the echo of her own breathing.

Elsewhere.

Ming Yu sat in her military office, a document in hand, yet her focus remained elusive.

Her fingers tapped absently against the desk as Song Qingpei’s image lingered in her mind like a thorn buried deep in her heart, impossible to remove or ignore.

The mere thought of Song Qingpei sent heat coursing through her body. A familiar burning sensation crept up her spine and spread through her limbs, as if countless tiny flames danced within her veins.

Ming Yu clenched her teeth, her fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

She knew her heat cycle had returned.

This time, it was more intense than ever, as if punishing her for suppressing it for so long.

Her breathing grew increasingly ragged, and fine beads of sweat formed on her forehead, trickling down her cheeks.

Unbidden, Song Qingpei’s face surfaced in her mind, the face that had once smiled tenderly at her, the eyes that had once brimmed with concern, and all those lingering, ambiguous moments that had once made her heart flutter.

“Song Qingpei…” Ming Yu murmured, her voice hoarse and trembling.

It felt as though an invisible hand were squeezing her heart, the pain so sharp she could barely breathe.

In the past, Song Qingpei would gently hold her during her heat, soothing her unease with a soft voice. When she was exhausted, he would stay by her side without a word, offering a warm embrace. And when she was overwhelmed with longing, he would kiss her with heartfelt tenderness.

But now, Song Qingpei was so cold it chilled her to the bone.

Those gentle eyes now held only distance and weariness; those soft hands now refused to even touch her.

A sharp, searing pain burned through her heart, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Stimulated by her pheromones, her breathing grew even more labored, the burning sensation in her body clouding her thoughts.

Unable to bear it any longer, Ming Yu’s trembling fingers pulled open a drawer and retrieved a syringe filled with Song Qingpei’s blood. Her gaze lingered on the needle, a flicker of complex emotions in her eyes.

She knew injecting his blood would temporarily suppress her heat, but it also meant relying on him once again, a dependency that filled her with shame and pain.

Yet, she had no other choice.

Gritting her teeth, Ming Yu pressed the syringe to her gland and injected it without hesitation.

The cool liquid flowed into her body, instantly subduing the burning sensation. Her breathing gradually steadied, and her body temperature slowly returned to normal.

But her heart remained unsettled.

Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, Song Qingpei’s face still replaying in her mind.

Her fingers unconsciously traced the empty syringe casing, a wave of bitterness washing over her.

“Song Qingpei…” she couldn’t help but murmur again.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ming Yu took out her phone. Her finger hovered over his contact before she finally dialed his number.

After a few rings, Song Qingpei’s voice came through the receiver. “Ming Yu?”

Her heart sank, her throat tightening as if something were stuck there. It took her a moment to force out the words, “I… I just wanted to ask when will you be home today?”

She hesitated but still used the word “home.”

Song Qingpei paused briefly before replying calmly, “I’ll be back early today.”

Ming Yu pressed her lips into a thin line, her emotions churning inside. There was so much she wanted to say, yet all that came out was this trivial, meaningless question.

“Alright, I’ll be back early too,” she replied softly, a trace of disappointment in her voice.

On the other end, Song Qingpei seemed to sense something was off and asked tentatively, “Are you running low on blood?”

Ming Yu’s face instantly turned pale.

Her fingers gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white from the strain. A sharp pang pierced her heart, as though Song Qingpei’s words had stabbed her deeply.

“No!” She clenched her teeth, forcing her voice to remain steady. “I can handle it.”

Song Qingpei said nothing more, only offering a faint “Mm” before hanging up the call.

Listening to the busy tone from the other end of the phone, it gnawed at her already sensitive nerves bit by bit, almost suffocating her. Ming Yu put down the phone, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes deeply. A tear slid from the corner of her eye.

She covered her eyes with the back of her hand, as if that could hide the utter disarray on her face.

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