An Yao’S Observation Diary Chapter 15

June 10th, Tuesday, Sunny

An Yao’s Mating Heat arrived.

Initially, I hadn’t considered this possibility at all, thinking it was just a slight fever due to the recent weather changes. I even had him take some instant cold medicine beforehand. What I didn’t expect was waking up this morning to find my arms full of heat, like holding a scorching little furnace.

My heart tightened, and I quickly picked up the person who had gone completely soft in my embrace. “Yaoyao?”

An Yao was covered in sweat, his skin flushed with an unnatural redness. His legs unconsciously wrapped around my waist, rubbing lightly. He was damp and clinging to me, his breathing rapid and hot. I cupped his face and called him several times before he managed to open his hazy, water-filled eyes, looking at me with a scattered gaze. “Qingyan…?”

“Your Mating Heat has started.” I pulled the blanket, wrapping him tightly. “Hold on, I’ll go get your Suppressant.”

He suddenly widened his eyes but didn’t say anything, just sat there in a daze, his hair a mess.

I didn’t notice anything unusual, assuming An Yao was just stunned by the sudden onset of the Mating Heat. I helped him lie down and carefully tucked him in. “I’ll be right back.”

With that, I got up and left the bedroom, heading straight for the living room.

When I decided to bring An Yao home, I stocked up on Suppressants and related drugs. Although An Yao’s Gland Damage meant his physiological cycle still existed, he couldn’t be Mark-ed like a normal omega, and his Pheromones couldn’t be released normally. The Mating Heat would only be harder to endure, requiring medication to suppress and smooth the transition.

I skillfully calculated the dosage and rushed back to the bedroom with the Suppressant. But as I grasped the doorknob, my heart sank—the door didn’t budge.

I tried again, turning the handle forcefully, but the door remained tightly shut.

The bedroom was locked from the inside.

“Yaoyao?” I knocked gently. “Why did you lock the door? Can you open it, please?”

An Yao’s muffled voice came from inside. “Qingyan… you, you should go to work first… I’ll endure it, it will pass.”

“How can I possibly go to work when you’re like this?” I coaxed patiently. “Yaoyao, be good. You’ll feel much better after Doctor Lin gives you the Suppressant.”

It suddenly went quiet inside. No matter how many times I called, there was no response.

Why is he silent? My heart clenched. Is he too uncomfortable to speak, or has he fainted?

All sorts of bad thoughts instantly flooded my mind. “Yaoyao? Can you hear me?”

“Don’t scare me…” I raised my voice while reaching for the spare key. “Yaoyao, please answer me, okay?”

My hand was shaking violently, causing the bunch of keys in my palm to jingle. I finally found the correct key, but my trembling fingers made me fumble several times before succeeding. The moment the lock sprang open, I practically slammed the door open and rushed in, ignoring the pain of my arm hitting the door frame, focused only on checking An Yao’s condition.

The room was eerily quiet, with only the tightly wrapped bundle of blankets in the center gently trembling—An Yao had buried himself under the covers.

Perhaps because of his Gland Damage, the room smelled as usual, only carrying the scent of my Pheromones. I held my breath, walked closer, and gently lifted a corner of the blanket. I faintly caught a very light, clean fragrance, as if someone had hidden a blanket full of magnolia flowers in An Yao’s arms.

An Yao’s scattered long hair slowly slid out of the blanket with my movement. His hair had grown much longer than when he first arrived, gradually forming a continuous, pale gray waterfall. I still remember teasing him that he would look beautiful with braided pigtails. To my surprise, he took it to heart, and every time I helped him comb his hair, he would lower his head shyly.

“I, I want pigtails…” An Yao turned his face away, his ears, hidden by his hair, turning redder. “Please, Qingyan.”

But truthfully, An Yao really suited pigtails. A thick, long braid rested obediently on his shoulder, adorned with a small white flower, making him look gentle and soft.

But now, that soft, pale gray long hair was scattered everywhere, damply clinging to the side of his neck, the hot, humid air spreading across the bed, creating an unsettling, ambiguous atmosphere.

An Yao had already kicked his pajama bottoms to the foot of the bed, wearing only a thin white sleep shirt. It was now transparent with sweat, clinging tightly to his flushed skin, subtly highlighting two small peaks. I looked down and saw An Yao’s two bare legs unconsciously twisting and rubbing against the sheet in discomfort, his insteps taut, his whole body radiating a faint red glow.

“Qing, Qingyan,” he hastily covered his face with his hands, his voice thick with a heavy sob. “Don’t… don’t look at me…”

His eyes were misty, seemingly about to rain again.

“I, I am right now…” He tried to say something more, but a difficult gasp escaped his lips, making the tears in his eyes shine brighter.

“I beg you,” An Yao whimpered, “This appearance of mine is truly… truly…”

“Too disgusting.”

I didn’t speak, just gently pulled him into my embrace. An Yao was mortified, his face flushed, and his eyelashes fluttered, letting tears roll down one after another. He struggled in my arms, his fingers frantically scratching at the Gland area on the back of his neck.

“If only I wasn’t an omega…” he choked out repeatedly. “If only I wasn’t an omega…”

“It’s too disgusting…” An Yao cried, trembling all over. “It’s truly too disgusting… like an animal that can’t control itself…”

“How could this happen…”

“I clearly don’t want to be like this…”

I gently grasped his wrist, stopping his self-harming movements. An Yao’s neck was already red from his scratching; several thin streaks of blood overlapped the damaged Gland, standing out sharply against his fair skin. I took An Yao’s hand and noticed faint traces of blood on his fingertips.

He was punishing himself. I thought.

“Yaoyao, don’t do this.” I softened my voice. “Stop scratching.”

“I don’t want to either…” An Yao’s tears fell. “I don’t want to become like this, an animal only capable of reproduction, but what else can I do? It seems my only value is reproduction…”

“I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I should do… I didn’t want to cry, I really didn’t want to cry, but now I seem to have become a useless person who only sheds tears, unable to do anything…”

“Qingyan…” He looked up. “What should I do? Please tell me, what should I do?”

I didn’t know.

I could only hold him in my arms, silently smoothing back his sweat-dampened hair, aiming the Suppressant in my hand, and injecting it.

The moment the needle pierced his skin, An Yao flinched in pain, a muffled groan escaping his throat. But as the medicine took effect, I clearly felt the tense body in my arms gradually relax, melting softly into my embrace.

The heat radiating from him slowly receded, eventually returning to a normal warmth.

“Yaoyao,” I lightly kissed the top of his head. “Do you feel better now?”

He was buried in my neck, shaking his head very slightly.

“The Suppressant needs to be injected every three days,” I said softly. “If injections are uncomfortable, taking the pills is fine too.”

“Yaoyao, the Mating Heat is a very normal physiological phenomenon, just like eating and sleeping.” I rubbed his head. “If we take the medication on time, it won’t bother you. There’s absolutely no need to feel ashamed about it.”

I paused. “Crying, too.”

“Whether it’s the Mating Heat or the Rut, hormone levels increase during this period. You’ll feel very emotional, which is why you might cry or lose your temper for no reason.”

I cupped An Yao’s face, carefully wiping away his tears. “So Yaoyao isn’t weak. Yaoyao is only losing control of his tears because this is a special time.”

An Yao stared at me blankly. “…Is that true?”

“Of course,” I said. “And crying doesn’t mean weakness, nor is it something to be ashamed of… Tears are just a way for people to express things when they can’t articulate their sadness.”

“And it also shows that Yaoyao’s heart remains soft and rich, not dulled by life.”

“That’s a good thing.”

He snuggled further into my arms, and after a long while, he spoke in a muffled voice. “Doctor Lin… am I really a good person?”

“Yes, you are,” I said with a smile. “Yaoyao has always been a very, very good person.”

He buried his face in my neck, silent for a long time. “…Thank you, Qingyan.”

This time, he didn’t use the formal “you” (您).

I smiled, rubbing his head. “You’re welcome.”

We held each other quietly for a long time until An Yao shifted uncomfortably in my arms.

“Qingyan, I, I…” he stammered. “Maybe let go now.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Am I holding you too tight, or are you feeling hot?”

I was about to move when I suddenly realized something was wrong—An Yao’s two long legs were wrapped around my waist. Even though he was wearing shorts, the viscous fluid that had leaked out was already rampant, soaking the thin fabric and staining my waist area with stickiness.

We were connected in an intimate, sticky way, the cloying, sweet smell almost overpowering the Pheromones in the room.

I immediately understood most of it. “It’s okay, this is normal.”

An Yao’s ears turned even redder. He lowered his eyes, not daring to look at me, only unconsciously tugging at the corner of my shirt.

I chuckled and rubbed his head, pulling the blanket to wrap him up carefully. “Can you walk by yourself now?”

An Yao pursed his lips and tried to prop himself up, but whether it was due to weak legs or some other reason, he swayed and fell straight back into my arms. If I hadn’t caught him in time, he would have hit my chest with a dull thud.

I sighed slightly, easily lifting him into a bridal carry. “I’ll do it.”

An Yao buried his entire face in my shoulder, flushed from cheek to neck, looking like a strawberry-filled spring roll about to steam. I carried him into the bathroom, only then remembering that we had only installed a shower during the renovation for convenience. I had to bring in a small wooden stool for him to sit on and handed him the showerhead.

I knelt on one knee, carefully adjusted the water temperature, and gently placed the showerhead in his palm. “Can you manage by yourself? If you need help, just say so.”

“I’m fine.”

An Yao nodded, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, like a small animal caught in the rain.

“Then call me when you’re done.” I rubbed his still-flushed ear tip and quietly closed the door. As the door narrowed, through the closing gap, I saw him looking down, fiddling with the showerhead, and the misty steam began to fill the small space.

I stood there for a moment, hearing the sound of water starting, before turning and entering the room, closing the door.