Mistakenly Marked – Chapter 23
by Little PandaKiss Me
‘Afraid you’d feel pain.’
The days of rain had finally stopped.
Today was a brilliant, cloudless day.
The morning sun grew steadily stronger, spilling a sheet of gold leaf across the floor before the floor-to-ceiling window.
Xu Jialuo kept her head lowered, crouched where she stood.
Crow-feather lashes hung low over dark, fathomless eyes that watched the shattered-gold flecks of light in silence.
When you’ve done wrong, when you’ve hurt someone, you don’t get to run from it.
You fix it. You make it right.
Like an instrument that begins to play the instant its tuning is set, Xu Jialuo rose to her feet, walked briskly into the bathroom, and found her phone.
Her fingertips swiped quickly across the screen. Checking information.
A few minutes later, the order was placed.
The bedroom air still carried pheromones that hadn’t dispersed.
A faint blend of wine and fruit, fermenting dully together, brewing up a new, languorous sweetness.
Like a glass of chilled cherry wine.
Several fragmentary images flashed through her mind, and the nape of her neck abruptly went warm.
Long legs striding to the window in a few steps, Xu Jialuo pushed it open. Only after several deep breaths did she turn back to face the wreckage of the room.
Picking up the clothing felt like beachcombing at low tide1.
The mermaid gown had lost its shape entirely, its crystal beading scattered from the head of the bed down to the floor.
Xu Jialuo bent to sort through it carefully, and beside the nightstand she found the intimate garments fallen to the floor, still damp.
…
None of it could be worn again.
She gathered every last scattered piece, then opened the wardrobe to find something Bo Suiqing could wear.
The enormous wall-spanning wardrobe was stuffed full.
Its style split into two extremes.
The single column on the left held dark, similar casual wear. The five columns to the right were rich and varied, nothing like that lone left column.
Because Mother — Jiang Yi — had bought them.
Jiang Yi loved buying Xu Jialuo things.
From clothes, to cars, to houses. The current head of the Xu family was a generous partner, and Mother delighted in sharing that generosity with her.
Only, everything was bought to Jiang Yi’s own taste.
Dissatisfied with the loose black-white-gray clothes Xu Jialuo always picked for herself, Jiang Yi bought her clothes of every variety — bright colors, trendy cuts.
Haute couture, the hottest runway pieces of the season — all of it swept up wholesale and sent over.
And most of it ended up in the wardrobe as collector’s items.
…
Now they finally had a use.
Xu Jialuo touched the chiffon blouse with its ruched waist, then pinched the exquisite hand-embroidered neckline of a long dress.
They all seemed to suit Bo Suiqing.
SPACE LINE
Bo Suiqing leaned against the edge of the bathtub.
Just as drowsiness began to pull her under, Xu Jialuo pushed the door open and brought the clothes in.
She set them on the rack, then executed a swift in-and-out — so fast Bo Suiqing never caught the expression on her face.
The prepared clothes were piled into a small mountain of fabric, underwear to outerwear.
Bo Suiqing pushed herself up and poked the little mountain with a wet fingertip, going through the pieces one by one.
There were soft silk loungewear sets, and long-sleeved dresses she could wear outside.
Even a face mask, a hat, and sunglasses.
As if the choice had been placed in her hands. She could change into the full outfit and walk straight out, or put on the sleepwear and stay.
Picking up the topmost towel, Bo Suiqing braced against the tub’s rim and stood.
This time Xu Jialuo hadn’t forgotten her slippers.
A pair of cotton-linen disposables.
Bo Suiqing looked back toward the sink counter.
Everything sat in neat order — a few simple toiletries.
All of them singles.
…Did that mean there were no regular overnight guests in Xu Jialuo’s home?
She dried the water from her body, lowered her head to step into the slippers, and gave them a little stomp, her mood not bad at all.
The mirror above the sink reflected a woman’s skin like suet jade2. Shoulder bones delicate, her figure gracefully curved — fine porcelain pinched into shape by a god’s own hands.
Only now it bore flaws: irregular red marks running from her neck all the way down to her collarbone.
On that impeccable face, pale silver eyes shone clear as glazed glass, stripped of their habitual frost, still rippling with the aftermath of a spent spring tide.
Her gaze swept over the marks in the mirror. Bo Suiqing reached up to lift her dripping hair aside, turned her body, and looked at her own nape.
She extended a fingertip and lightly touched the bite mark that looked rather frightening.
She really had been marked.
She could still smell the faint thread of red wine scent wound about her body.
Xu Jialuo’s pheromones.
Only, the scent kept weakening.
Because it wasn’t a permanent mark.
Last night Xu Jialuo’s pheromones had been wildly unstable — she seemed to have no idea yet how to control them with any finesse.
Scent like that could never permanently mark an Apex Omega like her.
But it could be learned.
Her fingertip brushed the edge of the gland, and Bo Suiqing withdrew her hand and picked up the hair dryer.
In the gaps between the roar of hot air, she faintly heard the doorbell ring outside — Xu Jialuo seemed to have ordered some kind of delivery.
Then she heard Xu Jialuo carry something back into the living room.
So… she meant to eat with her, then?
Bo Suiqing lowered her eyes, flicked a pale fingertip, and turned the dryer up a notch. She dried her hair faster.
SPACE LINE
Listening to the hair dryer running in the bathroom, Xu Jialuo set the delivery on the table.
Then she went back to the bedroom for the other things.
By the time several items were laid out in readiness on the table, the bathroom door opened exactly on cue.
Bo Suiqing came out in a milk-blue, long-sleeved silk nightgown.
Another piece Jiang Yi had bought to Xu Jialuo’s measurements — worn on her, the oversized soft fabric fell along her figure in bright color, making her look all the more slender and frail.
But beneath the fabric, it wasn’t thinness alone—
Xu Jialuo turned her head away, brow furrowing, and chased the image out of her mind.
The next second she turned back.
Because Bo Suiqing had called her name. “Xu Jialuo.”
One shoulder propped against the doorframe, her porcelain-white face framed by cool-brown curls — like a fine length of velvet set with jewels.
Lips like red agate parted softly. “Come help me up.”
Less a coax than a command.
“…”
Xu Jialuo stood and walked over to her.
Bo Suiqing kept her leaning posture, but her spine tightened without her willing it.
As Xu Jialuo drew close, she raised her arm, intending to grip her shoulder for support.
But Xu Jialuo bent with her posture, arms circling behind her knees and back, and simply scooped her up sideways.
Bo Suiqing’s breath caught. It took a few seconds to register, and then she pressed her face against Xu Jialuo’s shoulder.
Xu Jialuo carried her to the living room and set her down on the sofa.
The setting-down was perfectly steady; the withdrawing of her hands was remarkably fast.
As if carrying her had simply been the faster, more efficient way to move her.
Feeling those hands retreat as if from a scalding hot potato, Bo Suiqing gave Xu Jialuo a look and said nothing.
If only because this person at least knew to order her food to fill her stomach.
Bo Suiqing had eaten nothing but a little fruit yesterday morning; nearly a full day had now passed without food.
Worn through from before nightfall all the way to dawn, she had no strength left to spare for anything else.
Even drying her hair had become labor. Holding the dryer for a while had tired her out — which was why her damp ends were still dripping slightly.
So what had Xu Jialuo ordered?
Belatedly, Bo Suiqing noticed there seemed to be no aroma of food anywhere in the living room.
Xu Jialuo picked up Bo Suiqing’s phone from the table and handed it over.
Bo Suiqing reached out to take it — and only then noticed the things laid out on the table.
She looked down, taking them in one by one.
A tube of ointment. Her car keys. And… a bank card.
The bank card was not hers.
Bo Suiqing looked up at Xu Jialuo. “What is this supposed to mean?”
“I did something wrong.”
Xu Jialuo’s voice was low, as melodious as ever in that heart-captivating way of hers. “You can use your phone to call the police, or you can…”
It only sounded more and more grating to Bo Suiqing.
“Or take the compensation you’re offering?”
Her gaze fell on the bank card, and its not-even-sharp edge seemed to slice a cut open in her.
Before anger took over, Bo Suiqing asked: “What did you order?”
Xu Jialuo couldn’t tell why she was asking. She nudged the bag at the table’s edge toward the middle. “Pheromone neutralizer spray.”
A female star, a public figure — of course she wouldn’t want to walk out the door wearing her pheromone scent.
She simply didn’t have any at home, so she’d ordered from a pharmacy.
Xu Jialuo took out the spray and held it out to Bo Suiqing.
No hand came to take it.
Bo Suiqing kept her eyes down, thick lashes veiling the broken feeling in their depths, and asked abruptly: “Xu Jialuo, what do you take me for?”
So even after something that intimate, it was only allowed to exist in delirium.
Awake, she wouldn’t spare even the length of one breakfast — nothing left but the pressing urge to make the problem go away.
“Xu Jialuo.”
Bo Suiqing raised her head. Pale silver eyes had frozen over with a layer of crushed ice, and a cold, crystalline smile spilled from the corner of her lips.
“Do you think I sell myself? Or do you think that little money of yours could buy my night?”
The words were too sharp — as always, striking the other person and wounding herself just as badly.
Xu Jialuo’s brow snapped into a frown.
But she didn’t argue.
Not out of agreement — only because she didn’t want to make her angrier.
Bo Suiqing seemed to grow angrier anyway.
Bare-faced, the flush of rage on her cheeks was fully exposed.
Anger meant dissatisfaction with the proposed solution.
“There’s three hundred thousand in it. The surgery fee for removing the mark.”
Xu Jialuo held out the bank card and explained, “I’ll be with you through the whole process. All related costs are on me.”
“Should I be thanking you, then?”
Bo Suiqing shot to her feet. “Xu Jialuo, is this your idea of taking responsibility for me?”
“…”
“If that’s not enough, I can give more.”
Her knuckles clenched as she spoke. “Whatever I have.”
She looked up at Bo Suiqing. “Or if you’d rather call the police, I’ll accept—”
The words cut off.
She watched Bo Suiqing turn and walk toward the door.
The scene wasn’t an unfamiliar one.
Xu Jialuo had seen it too many times.
Eldest Miss or great star — countless times they’d turned a cold face on her and walked straight out.
Nothing rare about it at all.
And Xu Jialuo never asked anyone to stay.
Between people who loathed each other, out of sight was best.
But—
Moving in haste, Bo Suiqing — still in disposable slippers and a nightgown — went into the bathroom, grabbed the face mask and sunglasses, threw them on haphazardly, and headed for the door.
Water dripping from her hair soaked through the thin nightgown and clung to the small of her back. What should have been only a slight chill now felt like cold from head to toe — every step sinking her deeper into an ice pit.
Her vision blurred with water again. Bo Suiqing reached out and pressed her hand to the door handle; just as she began to twist it, her arm was seized.
Xu Jialuo gripped her shoulders and turned her around.
She reached up and pulled off the sunglasses.
Seeing the eyes beneath them, Xu Jialuo’s brow knitted, then smoothed. “Why are you crying?”
She hadn’t cried when she woke this morning — she’d still been calmly giving orders.
“…”
No answer. Bo Suiqing’s eyes went wide; beneath the mask, her teeth bit down hard on her lip.
Another tear rolled down.
The fingers gripping her shoulder tightened, then immediately eased.
Softening her tone as much as she could, Xu Jialuo asked again: “Why are you crying?”
Because she felt despised again. Pushed away again.
“…”
But honest words like those couldn’t be spoken aloud.
“It hurts.” Bo Suiqing turned her head aside and offered the first excuse at hand. “The wound hurts.”
SPACE LINE
She was back on the sofa.
Xu Jialuo unscrewed the ointment, touched a cotton swab to it, swept Bo Suiqing’s hair aside with one hand, and applied it with care to the red, swollen gland.
The swab’s medicated tip pressed down, and Bo Suiqing flinched hard.
Xu Jialuo’s hand went rigid. “Sorry. I’ll be gentler.”
She said it, and she tried.
A musician who had played every kind of instrument — fingers whose force was always precise, that had never shaken once in front of thousands at a music festival — were now strung tight enough to tremble.
Bo Suiqing kept her head down. She couldn’t see Xu Jialuo’s face behind her, but she could feel the careful, almost timid touch.
Like a feather, slowly smoothing the ache at the bottom of her heart flat.
But it still hurt.
Her most fragile place ground gently under the swab; the broken skin stung sharpest of all.
A feeling completely unlike any other injury.
Cold sweat layer upon layer, breathing spiraling out of control. Eyes rimmed red, Bo Suiqing gradually couldn’t sit still, her body shrinking forward without her willing it.
It wasn’t until Xu Jialuo’s arm circled her waist that she realized she’d nearly slid off the sofa.
Drawn back onto the sofa by that arm, half of her body resting against the sofa back, Bo Suiqing reached out and gripped the arm Xu Jialuo kept around her waist.
An instinctive gesture of pure dependence.
Xu Jialuo paused. A few seconds of deadlock — and in the end she didn’t pull her arm away.
She followed Bo Suiqing’s lead instead, tightening slightly, holding her waist.
In this posture she’d all but gathered the other woman fully into her arms; every small tremor came through to her with absolute clarity.
The living room was very quiet.
Only the sound of an Omega’s breathing, laced with soft whimpers, suppressed with everything she had.
As if she wanted to cry out, and was fighting it with all her strength.
Head lowered, Bo Suiqing asked after another flinch: “Xu Jialuo, are you laughing at me in your head?”
“No.”
“Calling me a nuisance?”
Xu Jialuo’s lashes lowered, gaze on the scattered red marks across Bo Suiqing’s fine white neck. “…No.”
To distract herself, to blunt the sting of the medicine, Bo Suiqing kept grasping for small talk, voice low. “Then why are your hands shaking?”
This time no answer came promptly.
The silence stretched so long she’d stopped expecting one — when she faintly heard Xu Jialuo say: “Afraid you’d feel pain.”
Bo Suiqing froze.
The voice was too soft; she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t misheard. Before she could replay it, Xu Jialuo asked from behind her: “Are you still crying?”
Head pressed to the sofa back, Bo Suiqing said in a muffled voice: “I’m not that weak.”
As if she were someone to be underestimated.
The medicated swab pressed down again right then; Bo Suiqing’s whole body jerked, and before she could stop it — “Ngh…”
“…”
Her face buried into the sofa back, red climbing to the tips of her ears.
Bo Suiqing closed her eyes and wished the sound hadn’t been hers.
“I’m not laughing at you.”
Xu Jialuo’s voice came again, unprompted.
She reached out and smoothed Bo Suiqing’s fallen hair back into place. “You can cry. You can make noise, too.”
“…”
Bo Suiqing didn’t answer. A few seconds of stillness.
Then, hoarsely: “Xu Jialuo, don’t you know how to soothe an Omega?”
“No.”
The conversation died again.
Bo Suiqing closed her eyes, regretting every wasted word on this unenlightened new Alpha.
Then she felt the person behind her shift, drawing closer.
Xu Jialuo’s voice sounded at her ear: “What should I do?”
Warm breath fanned the edge of her ear. Bo Suiqing shivered and whipped her head around.
Her nose nearly grazed Xu Jialuo’s cheek.
So close.
Xu Jialuo had only meant to check whether she was still crying.
She hadn’t expected the sudden movement.
At this distance she could see the Omega’s wet, red, beautiful eyes — and the feeling in them that hadn’t had time to hide.
Like grievance.
Xu Jialuo paused, and for a moment she didn’t pull back.
Bo Suiqing looked at Xu Jialuo and saw that she wasn’t retreating.
It felt like a silent encouragement.
A few seconds later, Bo Suiqing gave her answer: “Kiss me.”
Holding Xu Jialuo’s slightly widened gaze, Bo Suiqing delivered it with the cool detachment of a science lecture: “A marked Omega can be soothed just by being kissed by the Alpha who marked her.
“So kiss me, and it won’t hurt so much.”
“…”
Xu Jialuo didn’t move a muscle.
As expected.
Pretending she’d never said it, Bo Suiqing lowered her eyes and pressed her head back against the sofa back.
Just as she was about to close them, a hand reached over and gently swept the hair from her shoulder.
A warm kiss landed on the side of her neck.
Footnotes
- 赶海 | Gan Hai | Literally 'chasing the sea' — the coastal practice of foraging the seabed exposed at low tide to gather shellfish, crabs, and seaweed; a beloved pastime in China's fishing villages, now widely popularized by livestreamers.
- 脂玉 | Zhi Yu | 'Suet jade' — the finest grade of white nephrite, named for its waxy luster resembling congealed mutton fat; the classical Chinese gold standard for jade, long borrowed as a metaphor for flawless, luminous skin.
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