PM Chapter 13

最佳契合 (Perfect Match) – 十九瑶

Chapter 13

　　All of the forms and surgical pamphlets were spread out on the floor.

After a few seconds of quiet, Lawyer Xia, who had been as calm as an iceberg, finally moved.

He got up, reached down, and picked up the papers in a neat stack, one at a time. He tapped them right along the bed’s edge and put them back in front of He An. His tone was relaxed, almost lenient, “Mr. He, you don’t need to be so shocked. PGRT is a minimally invasive procedure that has little side effects on the body. I advise that you study the materials first in order to understand the surgery. If you have any questions, we can talk to a doctor. After you’ve carefully read everything, I think you’ll be ready to sign the written consent form.”

He An, however, ignored him.

He said, “Take it back. I won’t sign.”

He sat there with his head down, his bangs covering his eyes and hiding the soft, gentle look that normally made him appear mild and friendly.

Lawyer Xia was paid to do his job. When he noticed that He An was being stubborn about not wanting to review the pamphlets alone, he collected himself and quietly took out a tablet from his briefcase. He opened a surgical introduction video that was already loaded, unfolded the stand, and carefully set it up next to the bed. Then he hit play.

The video started to play. A composed and scholarly female voice provided the English narration, with Chinese subtitles running along the bottom.

PGRT, which stands for Pheromone Gland Replacement Therapy, is also called replacement surgery or lifelong pheromone gland replacement transplant. This is a medical treatment that was developed in Country Z and is being supported by the global human rights group “Pheromones Are Not God.” Its purpose is to assist alphas and omegas who are desperate to break free from the clutches of their natural pheromones.

Of course, it’s mostly intended for omegas.

The surgeon will create a small incision on the back of the patient’s neck and insert a small artificial gland. Soon, this artificial gland will release a lot of artificial pheromones that will quickly flush out and replace the body’s natural pheromones in the bloodstream. Once the concentration of artificial pheromones reaches a certain level, the brain receives a false signal, indicating that the release of real pheromones is enough. It then blocks the gland that makes natural pheromones, which stops it from emitting more.

If the levels of artificial pheromones are kept stable, the natural gland will stay dormant.

Just like machines that aren’t used corrode and break down, organs that aren’t used for a long time also rot and deteriorate. Most natural pheromone glands last two to three years. At that point, the natural gland will have shrunk, stopped producing pheromones, and detached. After the patient’s pheromone type has been changed, they will continue to rely solely on the artificial gland for their survival.

Even though this surgery is said to be “minimally invasive,” it changes the body’s hormonal balance in a drastic manner. Not only is it risky, but it’s also expensive. Just two years ago, there was a successful case. No one knows if there will be long-term side effects or how bad they might be if there are.

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　　The video finished playing. The screen went pitch-black, a looping arrow slowly spinning in the center. In that jet-black mirror, He An saw his face—pale as snow.

His heart went cold, all the way through.

He had far too many questions about this surgery. Are replacement pheromones actually safe? Will there be rejection reactions? If the natural gland were to shed, what would become of it? How would he live if the artificial gland failed?

And yet, Zheng Feiluan was so desperate to cut himself free from pheromone ties that he was pushing He An straight onto the operating table for a surgery this risky—one whose long-term complications weren’t even fully understood.

He An closed the tablet, handed it back to Lawyer Xia, and reiterated, “I’m not signing.”

Lawyer Xia didn’t get angry. He took a blue pheromone compatibility chart out of the folder and placed it in He An’s hands.

“I understand your resistance to the surgery,” he said calmly. “From your perspective, changing pheromones seems like it only benefits Mr. Zheng. But in reality, he’s recommending this surgery because it benefits both parties. For him, once you replace your gland, your compatibility drops and sexual attraction disappears, and he’ll be freed from mate-seeking disorder. And for you—your original pheromone is extremely rare, and emotional isolation has always been severe. If you switch to a common type like Omega Type-3…”

His finger slid across a stretch of compatibility percentages on the chart, all consistently above sixty percent, “I believe it won’t take long before you meet an alpha you truly like, and finally have real love.”

He An remained unmoved, “Sorry. I don’t need that.”

Lawyer Xia hadn’t expected to be rejected three times in a row by an omega. At last, he cracked—an unmistakable trace of irritation splitting his icy expression.

Seeing how deeply He An cared about his daughter, an idea struck him. His tone turned solemn, “Mr. He An, I believe I have an obligation to remind you that Mr. Zheng, as your alpha, is entitled to apply to the court for child custody.”

He An shot upright, ignoring the pain ripping through his incision. He lunged forward and grabbed the bars of the crib.

“What do you mean?!”

Lawyer Xia let out a thin smile, “It means Mr. Zheng wouldn’t mind having a lovely daughter right now.”

He An’s eyes reddened with rage, “I gave birth to her—do you people have no shame?!”

A sudden thought struck him. He hurriedly dragged the crib closer, shielding it with his body like a mother hen guarding her chick, terrified that if he slipped up even once, Linglan would be wheeled away again like before.

Lawyer Xia remained perfectly composed, “I don’t quite understand what you find shameful about this. She is Mr. Zheng’s daughter. He’s willing to raise her, and he has the means to do so. The court wouldn’t be able to find a single reason to object. So how exactly is that ‘shameless’?”

He An clutched Linglan protectively and glared up at Lawyer Xia, hatred blazing in his eyes, as if ready to fight to the death. But once the fire burned through, reason flooded back in—and with it came suffocating fear.

What did he even have to fight Zheng Feiluan with?

He didn’t have a single chip.

If his relationship with Zheng Feiluan were a gamble, then the dealer, the banker, the rule-maker, the judge of wins and losses—and even the one who decided whether the game continued at all—was Zheng Feiluan. He was nothing but a player with no chips, dragged to the table against his will, powerless, yet forced to shoulder every debt.

He had already fallen this far. He couldn’t afford to lose Linglan too—his one and only. That chubby little face was something he planned to look at for a lifetime, to protect for a lifetime. How could he ever hand her over to someone else?

“Give me the pen. I’ll sign.”

He An surrendered. Each word was squeezed out hoarsely, one by one, through clenched teeth.

A surgical written consent form was placed in front of him, along with a pen whose cap had already been removed.

“Please.” Lawyer Xia said.

Like a puppet being manipulated, He An followed instructions and signed his name on the thick stack of documents—both the surgical consent form and the new agreement drafted by Zheng Feiluan. He knew every clause was stacked against him, yet he didn’t read a single word.

Lawyer Xia checked each page carefully to ensure nothing was missing, then filed them back into the folder and slipped it into his briefcase.

With his objective achieved, he stood up, briefcase in hand, once again donning that polite, respectful mask, “Please rest assured. Mr. Zheng has arranged for an expert team from Country Z. Your safety will be guaranteed.”

He An sat quietly, not saying a word.

Seeing this, Lawyer Xia didn’t press further. He gave He An a brief nod, turned, and left the room.

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　　January 25th—Linglan’s one-month birthday—was also the day He An was scheduled for surgery.

That day, the city was still covered in deep snow, but the sun was bright, and it was a little warmer. In the downtown inpatient ward of Yuanjiang First General Hospital, He An held Linglan and quietly soaked in the sunlight while standing by the floor-to-ceiling window.

A month had gone, and Linglan had grown considerably. She went from a wrinkled little bun to a delicate, lovely little bun. The round-faced omega couple next door gave her a bunny-ear cotton hat and a goose-yellow baby romper, which she wore for the entire month. After she finished feeding, she continued to smack her lips, staring at He An with wide eyes, and giggle boisterously; she was both adorable and a little silly.

He An gently smiled back at her.

A few minutes later, Linglan fell asleep peacefully. He An gave her to Cheng Xiu and said softly, “Take care of her for me.”

“What are you saying?” Cheng Xiu frowned, clearly not liking the way that was said, “This isn’t some brain-opening or limb-amputation surgery. You’ll be out in no time. You might even be done before Linglan wakes up.”

“Mm. In no time.” He An lightly touched the bunny ears on Linglan’s hat and said quietly, “Then… Daddy’s going now. Have a good sleep. Be a good girl.”

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　　It was ten in the morning when the red light outside the pheromone specialty surgery room switched on.

He An had a small patch of hair shaved off, revealing the smooth skin on the back of his neck. It was like perfect white porcelain: pale, smooth, and without a single flaw. The anesthesia slowly flowed into his veins. The shiny scalpel cut into the skin. Blood welled up, and a subtle lily of the valley scent wafted across the air—unexpectedly beautiful.

It was a mystery to everyone how such a nice smell had come to be called an “original sin.”

The sedative made the pain more bearable than expected. It felt like a ballpoint pen was drawing a line on his nape. A tiny stream of blood dripped from his neck and collected at his chin; the nurse used sterile gauze to wipe it away.

He An shut his eyes. His mind became heavier and heavier, his consciousness disappearing thread by thread, while his body felt like it floated lightly in midair.

Tap, tap, tap.

The faint sound of rain rang in his ears. It got heavier, raining down from sky to earth. He stepped off a bus holding a fresh, dewy bouquet of flowers, surrounded by countless passersby hiding their heads with clothes and flyers.

That day, the pet shop was unusually empty. He wanted to make some extra money, so he helped the “Fragrant Flowers” shop next door bring a bouquet to a young woman staying in a Jiusheng VIP suite.

On the marble stairs outside the hotel, there was a tall alpha man. An all-black outfit. Stylish long cashmere coat. He was holding a wooden umbrella with a long handle, and the tip was on the ground. Eyebrows like blades, deep eyes, and a cold stare fixed on the sculpture in the square. His posture was as straight as a sword.

It was him.

From a distance, He An stared at him. His vision became very clear, like a slow-motion video with a ten-thousand-times zoom.

He had no idea he could see someone so clearly.

The rain fell in erratic patterns caused by the wind. A lot of shiny drops flew to the man and landed on his fancy cashmere coat. He An heard his heart singing to him, urging him to become a grain of dust or a drop of water so that he could happily fly over, cling to this alpha, hide in the cashmere’s warmth, breathe in his smell, and follow him home.

A sudden light broke through the more than twenty years of darkness in He An’s life. It made him happy—and also made him weak, willing to sacrifice both his love and his soul.

About forty days later, this alpha broke into He An’s house and violently shoved his penis into He An’s body.

Pinned under the man, He An found shreds of pleasure in the pain that was tearing him apart. He firmly thought that there was at least some love in the alpha’s violent desire. He An couldn’t stay angry at the man because every time he was done, he would hug him with his sweaty arms, look at him with soft eyes, kiss him gently, and press his lips against the blushing mole on his chest.

You’re sick. You’re not thinking clearly. You need comfort like a child. How could I bring myself to blame you?

He An would kiss his forehead and say: It’s okay. Feiluan, it’s okay.

No matter how fleeting the intimacy, no matter how different we were when we were sober—I don’t hate you.

But Zheng Feiluan, why did I have to suffer all that pain just to have you hate me in the end?

Why?

You blame me because I took your reason, your love, and your money, even though you know full well that I never got anything out of you ever since we met. Maybe… except for Linglan. You never wanted to come down and talk to me as an equal; you always stood on that high place. Because of love and tolerance, I lost my home, my education, my job, my natural pheromones, and even the heart that once begged for love.

This isn’t love. I don’t want to go any deeper.

When the blade cut into his neck, the icy touch felt like a powerful hand pulling He An from the harmful waters.

Zheng Feiluan, thank you for this gift. Thank you for flicking the whip and steering me off course when I couldn’t bring myself to let it go.

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　　The surgery took four hours. In the family waiting area, Cheng Xiu held Linglan the whole time.

It was two thirty in the afternoon when He An was wheeled out of the operating room.

He seemed mentally fine. The cut on the back of his neck was only two centimeters long and was stitched together neatly. At first glance, it looked like someone had drawn a line with a red pen. After the hair grew back, the scar from the procedure was almost invisible. After the numbness wore off, He An ate half an orange, drank a bowl of porridge, and played with Linglan while holding her. Linglan, like a little kitten, sniffed all over, making a big effort to breathe in the last faint traces of He An’s lily of the valley scent. She was confused, and her little eyebrows were creased.

But late that night, He An unexpectedly pressed the call button.

He started throwing up. He was very sensitive to cold, shaking even with many blankets on him. He was still cold, even with the air conditioner set to thirty degrees. The chill felt like it was coming from his blood and bones. At six in the morning, an intense headache hit. He became sensitive to light and sound. Even a tiny ray of morning light coming through the window or a single bird chirping would make him cry out in pain. The only option left to Cheng Xiu was to pull the curtains, resulting in total darkness and silence in the room.

For days, he couldn’t eat a single grain of rice or drink a drop of water. To keep his body going, tube after tube of nutrient solution poured into his veins. He couldn’t even turn over—any movement, no matter how minor, caused horrific pain.

The worst part of gland replacement surgery was not the surgery itself, but the long period of pheromone instability that came after.

The Omega Type-3 pheromones that he had never smelled before filled his blood and wiped out every bit of the lily of the valley scent. All of the organs showed strong resistance. He An’s body was like a ruined city, with death and war all over the place. His temperature skyrocketed to 40°C. For a while, he couldn’t taste or smell anything. For a few days, he even felt like he was alone in the world—his soul curled up inside his body, which was hot, in a constant fight, with the familiar past self being slowly destroyed and then repaired.

A week after that, his condition started to improve considerably as the artificial pheromones finally balanced out.

He looked tired and had lost a lot of weight. He told Cheng Xiu that he wanted to see Linglan, so Cheng Xiu brought her to him. But when Linglan saw him, she started crying and wouldn’t let him hold her.

The baby knows her parent by smell, not by sight. He An’s hormones had changed, so Linglan naturally treated him like a stranger. She cried until she hiccuped, with snot and warm tears all over her face. The more He An tried to comfort her, the more she cried. He tried to feed her like before, but Linglan pursed her lips shut, refusing to touch it—she’d rather suck on an empty, cold bottle.

During the worst days of unstable pheromones, He An was in a lot of pain but didn’t cry once. Now, when Linglan displayed unfamiliar anxiety, He An’s eyes turned red with panic.

When the chief surgeon heard what was going on, he gave him a deep red glass perfume bottle.

It was an extract of his natural pheromones.

Before the surgery, the surgeon looked over He An’s file and saw that he had just had a baby. He collected one milliliter of highly concentrated pheromones from the original gland, diluted it with saline, and stored it as a backup, thinking it might impact the parent-child relationship. Thanks to this tiny bottle—less than thirty milliliters in total—He An was able to spray a little on himself each day and endure through the change, allowing Linglan to start getting familiar with his new scent.

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　　The day He An was discharged, Cheng Xiu arrived with bags upon bags—four suitcases in total. Their next destination wasn’t home, but Yuanjiang Airport.

According to the agreement, He An only had one chance to hide. He’d have to leave Yuanjiang once Zheng Feiluan found him.

That cramped apartment—he could never return to it.

As for Cheng Xiu, he’d lost his job the day after Linglan was born and became a gloriously unemployed man. Personally fired by the Jiusheng boss, he knew surviving in Yuanjiang would be difficult. So he simply bought a ticket south to Luotan Mountain and decided to roll out together with He An and Linglan.

He An stepped out of the hospital wearing a wool coat and a fluffy scarf. Linglan slept soundly in his arms, her cheeks rosy and plump, like a perfectly ripe peach.

The Spring Festival had only just passed. The streets were still drenched in red. Valentine’s Day was quietly approaching—gorgeous roses began decorating shopfronts, with blooming baskets of rambling blooms hanging from wooden racks. Crowds surged below, the atmosphere unusually lively.

He An stared at the endless flow of people, his expression dazed.

Cheng Xiu asked him, “What’s wrong?”

“I…”

He An trailed off.

He seemed to have… smelled life.

Sweet, bitter, intense, gentle—pheromones of every kind, wrapped thickly in emotion, flowed through the air. It felt like standing inside a bakery, where freshly baked pastries filled the space with intoxicating aromas. If you focused, you could even pick out caramel, cheese, milk, and strawberry.

For the first time in over twenty years, he felt a real pheromone exchange.

Every passerby’s features looked more vivid than before, their expressions more animated—like a faded old painting suddenly recolored, revealing its true form.

A handsome alpha passed by and offered him a friendly smile. He An tensed and returned an awkward one.

He thought he looked ridiculous—but the alpha’s eyes curved as he said, “You’re really pretty.”

He An blushed instantly.

Before today, he’d never dared imagine something like this happening to him. His rare pheromones had isolated him from emotional connection—others couldn’t sense him, and he couldn’t sense others. He lived in a withered world, where love was like a tender sprout wrapped in plastic wrap: never rotting, never dying, yet never allowed to grow.

That was why Zheng Feiluan had become his light.

A one-hundred-percent match focused all the world’s brightness on Zheng Feiluan alone. He was the only vivid color in a black-and-white photograph. He An couldn’t tear his eyes away from him, nor could he imagine what the world would look like without him.

But now, that beam of light was spreading outward, dispelling the accumulated darkness.

In the brightness, countless beautiful emotions appeared.

Only then did He An understand—Zheng Feiluan wasn’t unique at all. He was just an alpha with a successful career and a slightly better-than-average face. One among the masses, nothing more. He didn’t even need to consciously “let go” of Zheng Feiluan, because this man who had once bound his heart and soul was gradually fading under the impact of the wider world.

Wasn’t life supposed to be like this?

To be an ordinary omega. Not reaching too high, not settling too low. Like the round-faced omega who ran a small restaurant—meeting an equally ordinary alpha within his own everyday circle, living an ordinary but joyful life together, raising children side by side.

“It’s nothing. I’m doing pretty well… surprised, but really happy.”

He An raised his brows and smiled brightly at Cheng Xiu.

Cheng Xiu flagged down a taxi, stacked the suitcases neatly inside, then opened the back door and efficiently installed the child safety seat. He An glanced back at the towering hospital building, kissed Linglan’s chubby cheek, bent down, and got into the car—setting off on the journey toward Luotan Mountain.

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Translated and edited by janemoyu (09/27/25)