Mistakenly Marked – Chapter 25
by Little PandaExtra Care
“Didn’t refuse either.”
“A full day without answering your phone, and you didn’t even tell your assistant where you were going — who are you trying to worry to death?”
Fingertips finished in dark-green cat-eye polish tapped against the desktop as Manager Song shot to her feet, the wheeled chair behind her sent spinning.
Xiao Nan carefully reached out to steady the chair, then stepped to one side.
She sneaked a glance at the person across the room.
The woman wore a high-collar gown in qielan blue1, silver-white carved pankou closures fastened at her throat, a silk scarf in the same shade winding up her long hair to rest loosely over her shoulder.
The cool palette set off her porcelain skin — snow settling on pine boughs, jade water freezing into ice — flawless in its beauty.
A stark counterpoint to her manager’s eruption, she said mildly, “I’m back now, aren’t I?”
Her tone was soft and soothing, and when she lifted her eyes, she deployed the exact look most likely to melt a heart and defuse a temper.
“And that’s supposed to settle it?”
The manager’s mouth never stopped, though her tone smoothed out considerably.
“Do you know how much you’d owe in penalties for running all those red lights under this year’s new regulations? Right — not that money’s ever been an issue for you.”
Halfway through the scolding, Song Zhezhi simply laughed. “Though thank goodness you drove fast. None of the paparazzi tailing you could keep up, so nobody knows where you went.”
Then she caught it — the minute, involuntary easing of relief in the star at the news that the paparazzi hadn’t followed.
Song Zhezhi stopped, eyebrows rising in suspicion. “So where exactly did you go?”
“Family matter.”
“Don’t try to pressure me with President Bo. I don’t buy that.”
She gave Bo Suiqing a look. “Though President Bo did come back to the country last night.”
The composure on Bo Suiqing’s face froze for an instant. “Last night — what time?”
“Ten. She called me asking about your schedule today, to see whether you had any free time.”
Bo Suiqing’s brow furrowed, fingertips clenching without her noticing.
“Relax.” Song Zhezhi patted her shoulder. “I covered for you — never said I couldn’t find you. I told her that after this afternoon’s recording event, you’d be taken back to the estate in the southern suburbs to see her.”
Her fingers slowly uncurled. “…Thank you.”
Song Zhezhi’s gaze swept over Bo Suiqing, confirming she was in one piece, then said abruptly, “The new dress is gorgeous. Cafeni’s latest runway piece, isn’t it?”
Though perhaps because she was too slender, it hung slightly loose.
Fingertips smoothed over the dress’s soft satin, and the image of Xu Jialuo handing it to her flickered back. “It is.”
“Very pretty. We leave for the event venue shortly — and from now on, whatever happens, don’t just cut contact like that again.”
Bo Suiqing rose. “Mm. It won’t happen again.”
Seeing her a little absent, Song Zhezhi added a reminder,
“Lu Yan is among the artists at today’s event. You beat her out at the Magnolia Awards, and word is she’s still bitter about it.”
“She and her team don’t play clean. Be careful when you run into her. Contact me right away if anything happens.”
“Okay.”
Seeing Bo Suiqing head for the door, Xiao Nan immediately moved to follow — then turned back after one step to push the manager’s chair into place first.
On her way out, she couldn’t help whispering, “Manager Song.”
“What is it?”
“Why, when President Bo came back, didn’t anyone tell Suiqing-jiejie?”
Judging by her reaction just now, she’d clearly only just learned the news.
Song Zhezhi settled into the swivel chair. “President Bo did tell someone. Me.”
Xiao Nan: “…?”
That was exactly the strange part.
Not telling her own daughter — only her manager.
Reading the confusion on her face, Song Zhezhi smiled. “Because President Bo doesn’t have Suiqing’s contact information.”
“…Huh?” Xiao Nan was baffled. “How could that…?”
“I’m taking on several new artists soon, so I’ll be passing your contact information to President Bo. Anything after this, she’ll contact you directly.”
Xiao Nan was taken aback. “Me… me?”
“Being a good assistant means looking after your artist’s private life as well as her work. We made that clear when you were hired, didn’t we?”
“Mm… we did.”
“Then this is the part of looking after Suiqing that falls to you. Relaying messages from President Bo.”
The manager lifted her coffee, red lips grazing the rim. “Don’t worry — it won’t be often.”
Once the assistant was in the car too, the driver checked the rearview mirror. “Miss, shall we set off now?”
The car sat in the shade of the trees, rear curtains drawn, very little light getting in.
The dimness pooled over her like drifting fog, laying a blurred weariness across her striking face.
“Miss?”
As if only then surfacing, Bo Suiqing answered, “Let’s go.”
She was visibly listless.
The driver started the car.
Pulling the curtain back a sliver at one corner, Bo Suiqing glanced out sideways.
Through that small pane of glass, scenery blurred into mosaic streaked past, discarded behind the car.
—”President Bo did come back to the country last night.”
Bo Suiqing reached out a finger, fingertip grinding against that little pane.
Cold. Hard.
Transparent to look at, yet it partitioned one shared space in two — never truly able to merge.
Until the fingertip pressed white, flesh squeezing in against nail, pain blooming.
When she tried to press harder, it tugged at the bandage on her palm.
The motion stalled. Bo Suiqing withdrew her hand and lowered her eyes to her palm.
Gently, she rubbed the bandage Xu Jialuo had taken such care to apply.
A few seconds later, Bo Suiqing took out her phone and typed out a message, head bowed.
The private room.
At the round table beyond the ink-wash landscape screen.
Dish after dish had already arrived, wafting tempting aromas.
Yet no one at the table had touched their chopsticks.
“Hold on…”
Zou Wan threw out a hand in a time-out gesture.
She picked up a cup of tea and held it before her face.
“So what you’re telling me is, Luoluo-baobei has now differentiated into an Alpha.”
Then she picked up the teacup in front of Liang Xiao and clinked it against the first. “And then also… accidentally marked an Omega?!”
Liang Xiao reached over and reclaimed her teacup, looking at Xu Jialuo.
“After completing the mark, is everything as the doctor said? Are your pheromones under control?”
“Mm. Under control.”
“Any other physical discomfort?”
“No.”
Liang Xiao nodded. “Good.”
The doctor’s-instinct questions done, she continued. “Who’s the Omega?”
Long lashes lowered over ink-dark pupils, and Xu Jialuo’s chopsticks paused mid-lift.
“Yeah.” Zou Wan piled on. “Who is she? Do I know her?”
Setting the food back in her bowl, Xu Jialuo listlessly picked the shredded ginger off the top, her tone seemingly calm.
“It was just an accident. There’s no need to ask in such detail.”
Yet her chopstick tips flicked a whole strip of meat out along with it.
“How could it not be necessary? This is our Luoluo-baobei’s first time establishing a mark with an Omega as an Alpha.”
Zou Wan sprawled across the table, batting her eyes at Xu Jialuo. “Just tell me, come on.”
Liang Xiao pushed the nut dish toward her. “Stop fluttering your lashes. Sit up and feed your brain2.”
Catching the nuts Zou Wan hurled back, Liang Xiao glanced at Xu Jialuo, head bowed, saying nothing.
She had already given her answer.
She wouldn’t answer because she didn’t want to lie to her friends.
Which meant it really was someone they knew.
“What’s the plan going forward?”
Liang Xiao steered the topic aside. “If that Omega wants the mark removed, I can recommend a surgeon.”
“…”
That impossibly beautiful face flashed through her mind — water-red lips parting, shaping the words “I didn’t resist.”
The knuckles gripping Xu Jialuo’s chopsticks tightened of their own accord. “…Not for now.”
Liang Xiao’s attention snagged, in turn, on “for now” and on “not.” “And how does she feel about it?”
The chopsticks slipped from her fingers and came to rest against the plate’s rim, pressed down with unbidden force.
Xu Jialuo said, “She said she wants a temporary-marking arrangement with me.”
“Well, well… sounds like she’s very satisfied.”
Zou Wan propped her chin on her hand, surveying Xu Jialuo from head to toe with open appreciation. “Fair enough. With a face and figure like our Luoluo’s, what Omega wouldn’t be satisfied?”
Even as a Beta, she’d been arresting enough.
Let alone now that she was an Alpha.
But.
Zou Wan’s eyes curved. “Luoluo-baobei, you turned her down, didn’t you?”
She knew her friend of many years well.
If it were herself, Zou Wan — who played around freely — would have agreed without a second thought.
But looking at her friend’s striking, coolly distant face, Zou Wan thought:
For someone whose boundaries were drawn so crisply they read as aloofness, accidentally marking an Omega was already a serious breach.
Maintaining any kind of temporary-marking arrangement was out of the question.
“…”
Xu Jialuo didn’t answer.
The private room went abruptly quiet.
In that quiet, Zou Wan’s eyes slowly widened. “…No way…”
At first, she really had meant to refuse Bo Suiqing.
She’d been braced for the young heiress’s fury.
But unexpectedly, after her silence, Bo Suiqing hadn’t pressed further — she’d only risen quietly and gathered her things.
Before leaving, she’d even obediently changed into the dress Jialuo had found for her.
Only, at the door on her way out, tears had tracked down that delicate chin and soaked the collar at her collarbone.
A great star with consummate acting skill always knows exactly which image softens a heart.
Xu Jialuo closed her eyes briefly, then said quietly, head bowed, “I didn’t agree.”
But she hadn’t refused either.
Catching the subtext faintly, Zou Wan’s eyes went fully round, as if she’d seen a ghost.
“That Omega,” Zou Wan asked, “is she stunningly beautiful?”
Beautiful enough to bewitch Xu Jialuo senseless.
“…”
“Or is it her pheromones? Do they just go straight to your head?”
Enough to hijack Xu Jialuo’s better judgment.
“…”
“You still haven’t said—”
Liang Xiao cut in, steering the topic away. “What do your pheromones smell like?”
Zou Wan’s interest pivoted instantly. “Oh, right! Let me smell!”
“Still can’t control them.”
Xu Jialuo brushed off the hand Zou Wan sent toward her barrier patch. “Red wine.”
Zou Wan blinked in surprise. “Brilliant.”
“I thought for sure you’d be the light, delicate type…”
Something like orchid, or cedarwood.
But a contrast like this was even more maddeningly enticing.
Zou Wan wouldn’t give up. “Just one tiny little whiff—”
She never got her whiff — a call came through first.
Zou Wan pulled her hand back and answered; a few sentences in, her expression crumpled.
Xu Jialuo watched her set the phone down, face full of gloom. “What’s wrong?”
Zou Wan spat a curse. “I’m about to get chewed out again.”
Since returning to the country, Zou Wan had taken over the family company, but she was still finding her footing.
A few veteran shareholders, leaning on seniority and nursing their resentment, deliberately tripped her up — then went over her head to complain to Chairman Zou.
Which meant Zou Wan was periodically summoned home to be “educated.”
The last time she’d stood them up out of nowhere, it had been the same kind of trouble.
“I already settled the bill.”
Flame-bright hair above a crisp, formal suit, Zou Wan stood in one brisk motion. “You two keep eating. I’ve got to head back.”
Zou Wan swept out of the private room in a whirlwind.
Liang Xiao withdrew her gaze, looked at Xu Jialuo, and asked without any warning, “What, is she someone you happen to like?”
Chopstick tips knocked against the dish — a sharp clink.
Xu Jialuo: “No.”
The answer came swift and clean. Liang Xiao paused a beat, then pressed on. “Then what kind of person is she?”
“…”
Before Xu Jialuo could answer, the phone on the table buzzed.
A new message.
Xu Jialuo glanced down.
—”Approve my WeChat request.”
“…”
Xu Jialuo swiped the screen open and tapped into WeChat.
The first thing she saw was the message she’d sent Jiang Yi an hour ago, briefly explaining that she’d differentiated into an Alpha.
But Jiang Yi was traveling abroad lately, her days and nights flipped by the time difference — she probably hadn’t seen it yet. Hence no reply.
Only then did she tap into the new message.
A sun avatar. A blank nickname.
A familiar friend request.
Her fingertip paused for a second, then pressed Approve.
A new message popped up almost instantly.
—”Tomorrow night, 10 PM. I’ll come to your place to return the clothes.”
Pure and simple, a notification of fact.
She set the phone face-down on the table and finally answered, “A very troublesome person.”
“Oh.” Liang Xiao’s eyes flicked to the face-down phone.
“If she’s a troublesome person, that’ll take some extra care on your part.”
Adjusting her silver-rimmed glasses, Liang Xiao reminded her with a smile,
“After all, once an Omega’s been marked, she’ll instinctively depend on the Alpha who marked her.”
Delivering the full lecture: “If the marking Alpha refuses to soothe her, or shows any aversion, the Omega loses her sense of security.
In serious cases, both her emotions and her pheromones spiral out of control.”
“…”
A few seconds later, Xu Jialuo frowned, flipped the phone back over, and replied:
—Understood.
After a brief pause, she kept typing.
—In three hours, peel the bandage off and change it.
Turning the manager’s words over in her mind, Xiao Nan in the passenger seat sneaked a few worried glances at the rearview mirror.
She saw Bo Suiqing head bowed, seemingly having just sent someone a message.
And then she went still — curled lashes lowered, staring blankly at the phone screen.
All the way to a red light, the car stopped and settled — and she still hadn’t moved.
Loose strands of hair veiled her brows and eyes; the expression at the bottom of those pale silver eyes was unreadable — only a rare, faint crease showed at her fair brow.
The phone screen was on the verge of going dark.
The deeply empathetic little assistant suddenly felt a pang of sadness. Just as she opened her mouth, a message chime sounded.
—Understood.
The screen in those lustrous white fingers lit up at once.
And it lit up her beautiful eyes, gone slightly wide.
Then another chime.
Reading the longer message word by word, ripples like shattered starlight welled up in those pale silver eyes.
A moment later, the phone — screen locked — was set down beside her on the seat.
Bo Suiqing closed her eyes, gently touched the bandage on her palm, and slowly let out a breath.
The weariness was still there — but the crease between her brows had smoothed away completely.
…She wanted it—
Wanted so badly for tomorrow night to hurry here.
Out of the private room, Liang Xiao asked, “What’s the plan this afternoon?”
Xu Jialuo hooked her face mask over one ear with a single hand. “Recording at the studio.”
“Don’t overdo it. You’ve only just differentiated — rest properly and let your body adjust.”
“Mm. I’ll wrap up early.”
And she truly wouldn’t be out late.
She was only polishing and revising a segment recorded last time.
Xu Jialuo savored the process.
The sealed room was like a small universe.
A universe that belonged to her alone.
In that universe, every act of creation, every change made, bent to her will.
Music collided inside the room, birthed something new, flowed ever smoother.
Two hours later, Xu Jialuo took out her phone, recorded a segment as usual, opened the Whale Fall app, and shared it out.
This time, no swift reply came as it had before.
After another two or three minutes, the little ghost avatar still showed Unread.
Probably busy.
Fingers swiping, Xu Jialuo exited the app.
The second she locked the screen, the just-darkened phone lit up again.
A number with no saved name.
Bo Suiqing’s number.
She’d said she’d come tomorrow night — why call now?
The ring sounded twice before Xu Jialuo answered. “What is i—”
Before she could finish, an anxious young voice cut her off. “Miss Xu? Please, you have to come help Suiqing-jiejie…”
The author has something to say:
Xiao Xu and Xiao Bo haven’t fully wised up yet, but darlings, please don’t fatten the story3 — it’s having everyone following along that gives me the energy to turn into an octopus and keep writing (octopus wipes away tears and bows).
Tomorrow I’ll push myself to write more, because the book is going up on the clamp4, so tomorrow night’s update will drop at midnight.
Good night, mwah.
Footnotes
- 窃蓝 | Qie Lan | A classical Chinese color name recorded in the ancient lexicon 'Erya', where 窃 means 'pale' rather than 'steal'; it describes the soft, gray-tinged blue of an autumn bird's plumage.
- 补脑 | Bu Nao | 'Nourish the brain' — a Chinese folk-medicine belief, reinforced by walnuts resembling brains, that eating nuts builds brainpower; a stock teasing retort toward anyone acting scatterbrained.
- 养肥 | Yang Fei | Webnovel reader slang, literally 'fattening the story' — letting chapters pile up unread to binge later; authors dread it because it saps update motivation and hurts a book's ranking metrics.
- 上夹子 | Shang Jiazi | Jinjiang Literature City slang for a novel entering the site's promotional 'clamp' slot, a coveted traffic-driving feature; authors typically post extra chapters to make the most of the exposure window.
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