Top-Tier Omega: Chasing Alpha to the Crematorium – Chapter 27

Song Qingpei, I’m Not That Desperate!

In the middle of the night, Song Qingpei was startled awake by an overpowering wave of pheromones.

Her own pheromone response had always been muted, almost never affected by external stimuli, but this time, she felt an involuntary heat spread through her body. Her heart hammered, her breathing grew ragged, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead.

            

She shot upright in bed, understanding at once—Ming Yu’s heat period was back.

“What a hassle.”

Song Qingpei couldn’t help but mutter. With a sigh of resignation, she got up and took a syringe from the nightstand drawer.

            

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic rhythm the pheromones had forced upon her, then gritted her teeth, drew her own blood, and strode toward Ming Yu’s room.

Before she even reached the door, the rich scent of Omega pheromones washed over her.

Song Qingpei’s steps faltered for a second, her brows knitting tighter.

            

She felt her heart race again as heat flooded her body. It was as if an invisible force was tugging at her, trying to pull her into the pheromones’ vortex.

She clenched her jaw, fought to steady her mind, and pushed open Ming Yu’s door.

Inside, Ming Yu was lying on the bed, her face flushed and her forehead beaded with sweat.

            

Her breathing was rapid and chaotic. She gripped the sheets so tightly her knuckles had turned white, and her lip was bitten raw, a trace of blood welling on the broken skin.

She seemed completely unaware of Song Qingpei’s arrival, her eyes shut tight, her jaw clenched as if she were desperately suppressing something.

Song Qingpei approached the bed and looked down at Ming Yu, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes.

            

She raised her hand, ready to inject the blood from the syringe into Ming Yu’s gland. But just as her fingers were about to touch Ming Yu’s skin, Ming Yu’s eyes flew open. She struggled, violently shoving Song Qingpei’s hand away.

“I don’t need your help…”

Ming Yu’s voice was hoarse and weak, laced with a stubborn resistance.

            

Her gaze was unfocused, but she stared fixedly at Song Qingpei, as if trying to cling to her last shred of dignity.

Her reaction infuriated Song Qingpei, who let out a derisive scoff. “Admiral, now’s the time to drop that ridiculous pride of yours. In your state, how much longer do you think you can last?”

Ming Yu’s face went paler, a flash of shame and anger appearing in her eyes.

            

She tried to struggle again, but the torment of her heat period had left her weak and powerless. Her chest heaved, her breathing growing more frantic.

Seeing this, Song Qingpei didn’t hesitate. She reached out and pinned Ming Yu’s shoulders, holding her firmly against the bed.

The moment her palms touched Ming Yu’s scorching skin, Ming Yu’s body shuddered violently, followed by a stifled moan. Her reaction only intensified, as if Song Qingpei’s touch was making the pheromones inside her rage even more uncontrollably.

            

Ming Yu didn’t dare move again. She could only squeeze her eyes shut, trying to suppress the craving she felt for Song Qingpei.

Her fingernails dug deep into her palms, nearly breaking the skin, but she felt no pain. Her mind was a chaotic mess. The only clear thing was the faint, irresistible scent of Song Qingpei’s pheromones.

Song Qingpei said no more, quickly injecting the blood from the syringe into Ming Yu’s gland.

            

As the blood entered her system, Ming Yu’s body gradually calmed, and her breathing steadied.

Her eyes, however, remained vacant, as if she were utterly exhausted, body and soul, after a ferocious battle.

Song Qingpei stood up and glanced down at Ming Yu, that complicated look returning to her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but ultimately swallowed the words and turned to leave the room.

            

Ming Yu lay in bed, slowly regaining her composure. By the time she realized it, Song Qingpei was already at the door.

Listening to the footsteps fade away, she was overcome by an indescribable emptiness. She wanted to call out, to say something, but her throat felt blocked, unable to produce a sound.

She could only watch as Song Qingpei’s back disappeared through the doorway, her heart filling with endless disappointment.

            

---

The next morning, Ming Yu rose early and went downstairs.

Her face was a little pale, and her eyes held a hint of fatigue.

She walked into the dining room, only to find that Song Qingpei was long gone. Songsong had already been taken to kindergarten.

            

Butler Su approached, holding two cryo-preserved vials of blood, and presented them to Ming Yu. “Admiral, Miss Song asked me to give these to you.”

Ming Yu took the two vials. Her fingers trembled slightly, an unspeakable bitterness welling in her heart.

Does Song Qingpei not even want to see me now? Doesn’t she even have the patience to hand me the blood herself?

            

She stood frozen on the spot, last night’s scene replaying in her mind.

Song Qingpei’s cold gaze, her mocking tone, and the back she’d shown her without a moment’s hesitation—they were like sharp thorns, stabbing deep into her heart.

She tried to calm herself, but the sour feeling refused to go away.

            

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Song Qingpei drove to the hospital first thing in the morning, still concerned about Murong Ruixue’s condition.

She walked into the hospital and went straight to Murong Ruixue’s hospital room, but found it empty. The bed was neatly made, clearly having been cleaned already.

She paused for a moment, then went to the nurse’s station to ask.

            

“Excuse me, has Miss Murong Ruixue been discharged?” Song Qingpei asked politely.

The nurse looked up at her and nodded. “Yes, Miss Murong completed the discharge procedures this morning.”

Song Qingpei frowned, confused.

            

Murong Ruixue’s condition hadn’t been stable. Why was she discharged so quickly?

She took out her phone and dialled Murong Ruixue’s number. The call connected almost immediately.

“Ruixue-jie, why are you out of the hospital? Are you feeling okay?”

            

On the other end, Murong Ruixue’s voice sounded perfectly relaxed. “Qingpei, I’m fine now. The doctor said I could be discharged. Don’t worry, I’m at the company.”

Song Qingpei breathed a sigh of relief and reminded her, “Then get some rest. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Murong Ruixue said with a laugh. “There are a few combat mechs here that need maintenance. You should come over too.”

            

Song Qingpei agreed. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

After hanging up, Song Qingpei drove to the company.

She entered the main doors and headed directly for the Mech Repair Workshop.

            

Inside the workshop, Murong Ruixue was standing before a towering combat mech, holding a diagnostic tool and intently examining its various components.

“Ruixue-jie,” Song Qingpei said softly, walking up to her.

Murong Ruixue turned. A smile spread across her face when she saw Song Qingpei. “Qingpei, you’re here.”

            

Song Qingpei came to her side, her gaze falling on the combat mech.

The machine was entirely silver-grey, with sleek, flowing lines. Though it showed signs of wear, it still radiated a sharp, imposing aura. She couldn’t resist reaching out to touch its armor plating; the cold sensation sent a small thrill through her.

“This mech was recently retired from the battlefield. It needs a full overhaul,” Murong Ruixue explained. “Qingpei, you’ve studied some of the basics of mech repair before. Today, you can try some hands-on work.”

            

Song Qingpei nodded, a flicker of excitement in her eyes.

She had always been interested in mech repair. Murong Ruixue had explained some basic theory to her, and she had studied a lot on her own. Today, she finally had a chance to work on one herself.

Murong Ruixue handed the diagnostic tool to Song Qingpei and pointed to an armor plate on the mech’s chest. “First, check the energy circuits here. See if there’s any damage.”

            

Song Qingpei took the instrument and began her inspection carefully. Her movements were a bit clumsy, but she performed each step with great concentration.

Murong Ruixue stood by, offering guidance from time to time.

“The energy circuits here are a bit old. They need to be replaced,” Song Qingpei said, pointing to the data on the instrument’s display.

            

Murong Ruixue nodded, giving her an appreciative look. “Not bad. You’re very observant. Next, we’ll remove this section of armor plating and replace the old energy circuits.”

The two worked together seamlessly, and soon had the armor plate removed.

Song Qingpei stared at the complex internal structure, feeling a little awed.

            

She had only ever seen diagrams of a mech’s inner workings. Seeing it in person, she realized it was far more intricate than she could have imagined.

“Qingpei, try using your mental strength to sense the energy flow here,” Murong Ruixue said, pointing to the energy core deep inside the mech.

Song Qingpei nodded, took a deep breath, and placed her hand on the energy core’s sensor.

            

She closed her eyes, focused her mind, and tried to sense the flow of energy.

However, the moment she released her mental strength, a powerful wave of dizziness hit her, and her body swayed.

“Qingpei!” Murong Ruixue noticed something was wrong and quickly steadied her.

            

Song Qingpei’s face had turned deathly pale, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead. She tried to stand firm, but her legs felt like jelly, unable to support her weight.

“I… I’m fine…” Song Qingpei managed to say, her voice so weak it was barely a whisper.

Murong Ruixue’s brow furrowed. She touched Song Qingpei’s forehead and found her temperature abnormally low. That, combined with the overexertion of her mental strength, had led to her collapse.

            

“Don’t pretend you’re fine. I’m taking you to the hospital,” Murong Ruixue said, not taking no for an answer, and helped Song Qingpei toward the workshop exit.

Song Qingpei wanted to refuse, but her body wouldn’t obey. She could only let Murong Ruixue support her.

Her consciousness began to fade. The world blurred, and all she could hear was Murong Ruixue’s anxious voice.

            

“Qingpei, hold on. We’re almost at the hospital.”

Song Qingpei wanted to reply, but found she didn’t even have the strength to speak.

Murong Ruixue helped Song Qingpei into the car and quickly started the engine.

            

She drove while glancing at Song Qingpei from time to time, her eyes filled with worry.

“Qingpei, don’t fall asleep. We’re almost there,” Murong Ruixue said, her voice strained with urgency.

Song Qingpei forced her eyes open and looked at Murong Ruixue’s worried profile. She wanted to say something but found she couldn’t even lift a hand.

            

The car arrived at the hospital quickly. Murong Ruixue jumped out and helped Song Qingpei into the emergency room.

A doctor immediately examined her and found that she had fainted due to excessive blood loss, compounded by overtaxing her mental strength, leaving her body extremely weak.

“She needs an IV drip right away to replenish her energy,” the doctor said as he set up the drip for Song Qingpei.

            

Murong Ruixue stood by, looking at Song Qingpei’s pale face, her heart filled with self-reproach. She’d had no idea Song Qingpei’s physical condition was so poor. If she had known, she never would have let her work on the mech.

“Qingpei, I’m sorry. It was my oversight.”

Song Qingpei shook her head, forcing a weak smile. “It’s not your fault, Ruixue-jie. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention.”

            

Murong Ruixue sighed and said comfortingly, “Just get some rest. Don’t think too much.”

Song Qingpei nodded and closed her eyes, exhausted.

She really had been tired lately.

            

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Ming Yu sat in her office at Military Headquarters, her pen flying across documents, signing approvals.

Her brows were knitted in concentration, as if she was trying to focus all her attention on her work to suppress the tide of heat constantly churning within her.

Her heat period was here again.

            

Though she was used to this cyclical torment, each episode was still unbearable.

Ming Yu’s body trembled slightly, her forehead was damp with sweat, and the pen in her hand shook from the force of her grip. She took a deep breath, trying to even out her breathing, then pulled a blood preparation from her drawer and unhesitatingly plunged the needle into her gland.

As the blood flowed in, the burning sensation gradually receded, and her breathing calmed.

            

Ming Yu closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, feeling the turmoil inside her slowly subside.

She knew this was only temporary relief. The agony of her heat period would last for several more days, but she had no time to deal with it.

The establishment of the advanced military academy was imminent, and work at headquarters was piling up. She had to deal with these matters as quickly as possible.

            

Ming Yu sat up straight again, tossed the used blood preparation aside, and threw herself back into her work.

Around noon, there was a soft knock on her office door.

Ming Yu looked up to see Song Xihan enter.

            

She was dressed in a sharp military uniform, a faint smile on her face, and carried a meal box in her hand.

“Admiral Ming, you still have to eat, no matter how busy you are.” Song Xihan walked to Ming Yu’s desk and placed the meal box on it. Her eyes swept over the carelessly discarded blood preparation on the desk, a flicker of surprise in her gaze.

“You’ve started using blood to suppress your heat period?” Song Xihan’s tone was incredulous, but it quickly melted into a knowing smile. “It seems your relationship with Song Qingpei… is truly something else.”

            

Ming Yu frowned and didn’t reply.

She had no desire to discuss her affairs with Song Qingpei. She casually swept the blood preparation into a drawer.

Song Xihan raised an eyebrow, pulled over a chair, and sat across from Ming Yu, laying out the dishes from the meal box.

            

As she ate, she remarked nonchalantly, “But I should remind you, drawing too much blood can seriously affect an Alpha’s mental strength. And Song Qingpei’s job requires a high degree of concentration. You’d better be careful not to squeeze her dry.”

Ming Yu’s hand paused, a complicated emotion flashing in her eyes.

She had never considered that. Song Qingpei’s profession was a mech repair technician; she needed extremely high mental strength to control and sense a mech’s energy flow.

            

If her mental strength was damaged from frequent blood draws, the consequences would be dire.

A wave of guilt washed over her, but she quickly suppressed it.

She lowered her head and continued with her paperwork, her tone cool. “I know.”

            

Seeing this, Song Xihan dropped the subject.

She picked up a piece of braised pork, chewed it for a few moments, and then suddenly sighed. “Speaking of which, the Zhan family’s influence has been growing stronger these years. With Zhan Nansheng’s father as the President, their prestige in the Federation is at its peak. You’ll need to be careful in your rivalry with Zhan Nansheng.”

Ming Yu’s brow furrowed, and her pen stopped moving. Her gaze was chilling. “No matter how powerful the Zhan family is, they can’t shake the foundations of the military. I will restore the Ming family’s honor. I won’t let them continue to suppress our clan.”

            

Hearing this, Song Xihan gave a bitter smile. “You certainly have ambition. Meanwhile, I’m getting an earful from my family every day, saying that if I don’t work harder, the Song family is going to fall into complete ruin.”

Ming Yu didn’t respond.

Her thoughts had already flown to Song Qingpei. Song Xihan’s words echoed in her mind—drawing too much blood can affect mental strength. Could Song Qingpei’s body already be in trouble?

            

A faint unease stirred in her heart, but she maintained a calm facade.

Seeing her silence, Song Xihan continued on her own. “You know, what happened to President Rong Cen back then is such a tragedy. If the Zhan family hadn’t interfered, President Rong wouldn’t have died, and our Song family wouldn’t have been pushed out of the military…”

“Watch your words,” Ming Yu cut her off abruptly, her tone icy.

            

Song Xihan froze, realizing her slip of the tongue, and quickly shut her mouth.

The matter of President Rong Cen from twenty years ago was a taboo topic in the military, and indeed across the entire Federation. Anyone who brought it up risked attracting unnecessary trouble.

The atmosphere between them grew heavy, and neither spoke again.

            

After a quick meal, Ming Yu made the excuse of having more work to do and sent Song Xihan away.

Once she was gone, Ming Yu immediately picked up her phone and dialed Song Qingpei.

The phone rang a few times before it was answered, but the person on the other end wasn’t Song Qingpei. It was Murong Ruixue.

            

“Admiral Ming?” Murong Ruixue’s voice came through, tinged with exhaustion.

Ming Yu’s heart plummeted. Forcing down her anger, she asked coldly, “Where is Qingpei?”

Murong Ruixue was silent for a moment before explaining in a low voice, “Qingpei fainted earlier. She just fell asleep. She’s very weak and needs to rest.”

            

Ming Yu’s mind went blank. “Which hospital is she in?” she demanded.

Murong Ruixue gave her the address. Ming Yu hung up immediately, grabbed her coat, and bolted from the office. There was only one thought in her mind—get to Song Qingpei’s side. Now.

She drove to the hospital, her mind a tangled mess.

            

She had never imagined that Song Qingpei would faint from giving too much blood. A powerful wave of self-blame and guilt washed over her, the emotions so intertwined that she could barely think straight.

Ming Yu rushed to the hospital. The moment she pushed open the door to the hospital room, the first thing she saw was Song Qingpei, pale-faced, propped up against the headboard with an IV needle in the back of her hand.

Murong Ruixue was sitting by the bed, holding a glass of warm water, carefully helping Song Qingpei drink.

            

Her eyes were full of concern. The atmosphere between them was warm and intimate, as if no one else could possibly intrude.

Ming Yu’s heart sank. It felt as if something had seized her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She stopped at the doorway, her fingers digging into the frame. Her eyes were fixed on Murong Ruixue’s hands, watching her bring the glass to Song Qingpei’s lips, watching her speak gently to her.

            

In that instant, something in Ming Yu’s mind exploded. Jealousy surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her.

She took a deep breath, fighting down the rage, and strode inside.

Her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet room. Murong Ruixue and Song Qingpei both looked up at her at the same time.

            

Song Qingpei’s eyes showed a hint of surprise, while Murong Ruixue simply raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on her lips, as if she had expected Ming Yu all along.

“Admiral Ming, what brings you here?” Murong Ruixue’s tone held a subtle, provocative edge.

Ming Yu ignored her. She walked straight to the bedside, took the glass of water from Murong Ruixue’s hand, and said coolly, “I’ll take care of her. You can go.”

            

Murong Ruixue didn’t let go immediately. Instead, she gave Ming Yu a meaningful look and chuckled softly. “Admiral, Qingpei is still very weak. She needs someone to look after her. You’re so busy with work. I doubt you have the time, do you?”

Ming Yu’s gaze turned frigid, her tone hard and unquestionable. “That’s my business. You needn’t worry yourself.”

Sensing the sparks flying between them, Song Qingpei frowned and said quietly, “Ming Yu, I can manage on my own. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

            

Her voice was weak but carried a note of detachment, as if she were deliberately putting distance between them.

Ming Yu’s heart sank. Her hand tightened on the glass. “You’re this weak. How can you manage on your own?”

Song Qingpei looked up at her, her eyes filled with weariness and resignation. “I’m really fine. You don’t need to trouble yourself.”

            

Her words cut Ming Yu off, stoking the fire in her heart.

She didn’t understand why Song Qingpei was always so cold to her, yet so close to Murong Ruixue.

Her gaze swept over to Murong Ruixue, seeing that faint, knowing smile on her lips, and the jealousy nearly drove her mad.

            

“Miss Murong, Qingpei has me to look after her. You can leave,” Ming Yu said, her voice like ice, her gaze as sharp as a knife, aimed straight at Murong Ruixue.

Murong Ruixue chuckled softly and stood up. “Qingpei,” she said gently, “you get some rest. I’ll come see you again later.”

Song Qingpei nodded and said softly, “Thank you, Ruixue-jie.”

            

Hearing what she called Murong Ruixue, Ming Yu’s jealousy spiked.

She gripped the glass so hard her knuckles turned white, as if she might shatter it in the next second.

As Murong Ruixue turned to leave, she deliberately leaned in and whispered in Ming Yu’s ear, “Admiral, Qingpei’s body can’t take much more. You’d better be gentle with her.”

            

Ming Yu’s face turned ashen, the rage in her heart threatening to erupt.

She took a deep breath, forced down her emotions, and turned back to the bed. She sat down and held the glass to Song Qingpei’s lips, her tone forceful. “Drink.”

Song Qingpei frowned and reached for the glass. “I can do it myself.”

            

Ming Yu’s hand paused, her voice thick with suppressed anger. “Are you that unwilling to let me take care of you?”

“Ming Yu, you don’t have to be like this. I’m really fine.”

With that, Song Qingpei gently pushed Ming Yu’s hand away, took the glass herself, and took a sip. Her movements were light and distant, as if she were intentionally creating a gap between them.

            

Ming Yu’s heart sank, feeling as if a hand had closed around it, squeezing until she could barely breathe.

She took a deep breath and said in a low voice, “Song Qingpei, I won’t use your blood anymore.”

Song Qingpei’s movements paused. She looked up at Ming Yu, a hint of surprise in her eyes. “Then what will you do about your heat period?”

            

Her question left Ming Yu speechless. In a fit of pique, she snapped, “Song Qingpei, do you hate me that much?”

Hate her so much… that even now, she still refused to touch her. Marking her seemed harder than taking her life, and it left Ming Yu feeling utterly defeated.

Song Qingpei was silent for a long time.

            

Her evasiveness was torture for Ming Yu. Casting aside almost all of her pride, she said, mortified, “Song Qingpei, what do you want me to do to make you accept me? To be willing to mark me?”

Song Qingpei remained silent, a complex look in her eyes.

Her gaze rested on Ming Yu’s face, as if scrutinizing her, or perhaps suppressing the turmoil in her own heart.

            

Her stare made Ming Yu uneasy. A mixture of shame and anxiety churned inside her, forcing her to speak again. “Song Qingpei, what will it take for you to mark me? I’ll agree to anything.”

Still, Song Qingpei didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flickered, as if she were weighing something.

After a moment, she finally spoke, her voice low and steady. “Anything?”

            

Ming Yu’s heart leaped, as if seeing a glimmer of hope. She nodded without hesitation. “Yes, anything.”

Song Qingpei’s gaze hardened. She spoke slowly, her voice probing. “What about Songsong?”

Ming Yu’s expression changed. “No,” she refused. “Songsong is off-limits. That… is my only bottom line.”

            

Song Qingpei shook her head slightly, a trace of disappointment in her voice. “Ming Yu, you still don’t understand. To me, Songsong is also my only bottom line.”

Hearing this, Ming Yu grew tense. Unwilling to give up, she said, “I can give you anything else but Songsong.”

Song Qingpei’s eyes stayed on Ming Yu’s face, silently studying her, scrutinizing her every expression.

            

After a long while, she finally spoke, her voice low and calm. “Ming Yu, I can agree to help you until you find a way to suppress your pheromones. But you must promise that, no matter who Songsong chooses to live with after two years, you will let me visit her on schedule.”

At her condition, Ming Yu’s heart jolted. She hadn’t expected Song Qingpei to already be thinking about their two-year agreement, to have already prepared for the possibility of Songsong living with her.

In that moment, a powerful unease gripped her, a fear that Song Qingpei was drifting further and further away.

            

She didn’t want to agree. She wanted to tell Song Qingpei that they wouldn’t separate. But considering Song Qingpei’s current attitude, she no longer dared to say such things.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ming Yu could only grit her teeth and nod. “Fine. I promise.”

With a temporary agreement reached, the thought of having to maintain a loveless, physical relationship made Song Qingpei unable to even look at Ming Yu anymore. She silently averted her gaze.

            

The blatant disgust in that action stung Ming Yu. She stared at Song Qingpei, her voice tight with suppressed fury. “Song Qingpei, can you still come home today?”

To Song Qingpei’s ears, that sounded like a veiled way of asking: Can you still satisfy me today?

Since she had already agreed, she wouldn’t try to evade it. She adopted a casual tone. “Don’t worry. I can go back as soon as this IV is done. I won’t be late to soothe you through your heat period tonight.”

            

To have her concern so misunderstood infuriated Ming Yu. “Song Qingpei,” she said, seething, “I’m not that desperate.”

Song Qingpei couldn’t help but retort, “You’re not very convincing.”

Ming Yu flushed with shame and anger, the tips of her ears burning.

            

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