Chapter 106#
Distant Star Reflection 14#
When Yu Feichen first began tasks in paradise, he felt unfamiliar with most worlds.
He had countless things to remember, many phenomena to observe. So he constantly learned. This continued until he handled unexpected situations in any environment instinctively. Later, even with novel occurrences, their underlying patterns held no novelty.
Yet today, he encountered heat cycle omega for the first time.
Also first time knowing those ice-clear distant eyes could transform into dewy water.
Especially—not someone else, but the deity dwelling at Twilight Peak’s apex.
Their fingertips curled into palms, seeking some clarity. Yet seemed lacking even that strength, failing to completely close after several attempts, finally drooping downward, gripping white bed sheets.
Despite this, maintaining composure on their face, gently pursing lips, brushing tangled curls from cheeks behind ears, letting surrounding heat dissipate slightly. This barely-sustained composure left Yu Feichen’s mind blank for an instant—he clearly recognized himself again.
He disliked untouched divine statues. He preferred moon reflections in water, shattering at slightest touch.
——Yet more preferred this shattering deity’s phantasm.
He extended his hand, fingertip brushing the deity’s cheek. The distant-yet-near touch increased the difficulty maintaining awareness. Yet eternal sleep flower pheromone made them both crave and fear, supreme deity raising head gazing at him, two emotions intertwining into desperate obsession.
Yet they still weren’t completely driven by instinct, not leaning toward Yu Feichen.
Yu Feichen instead retreated, slowly tidying his clothing, settling composedly on the bedside chair, simply watching.
Omega drawn into heat cycle besides instinctive craving experiences alternating hot-cold sensations, unfortunate both unrelievable through external means.
He watched the deity grip thin blanket, pulling it over themselves. Slender fingers tightened the collar tightly. Yet proving useless—fabric friction against skin only increased torment. Finally releasing, white silk cascaded downward, layering beside them like dispersed clouds.
Finally the deity looked at him.
“You haven’t come of age?” they said.
Yu Feichen: “I have.”
“Then what are you doing?” the deity coldly regarded him. Yet with eye corners still reddened, the gaze held little force.
Yu Feichen was bidding farewell to his past self, all thanks to the supreme deity.
Normally avoiding physical contact with people, let alone pursuing bodily pleasure.
He also knew such things could subtly change many relationships. Especially with deity, amounting to tremendous trouble.
Yet he didn’t want refusing.
From this world’s beginning, he’d never thought of refusing—only realizing upon the deity’s awakening. All his objections stemmed from not wanting guessing and fearing trouble.
Not because unwilling approaching them.
Many things past were similar.
Once understanding this, it felt like bidding farewell to long eras.
Yu Feichen: “Mourning my underage years.”
Finishing, he loosened his collar. With omega like this, him as alpha who’d halfway completed permanent marking naturally wouldn’t feel well.
Unfortunately, gods treat equally—he couldn’t cool himself through external means.
Yet this didn’t mean advancing.
“I’d really like helping you ease your current situation,” he told the deity, “but I’ve wanted asking you something forever.”
“You accept all my marking choices without ever expressing position,” he steadily watched the deity, “isn’t that also hesitation and evasion?”
After all, marking choice neither tested his ability nor verified morality.
Yet he couldn’t imagine what troubled the deity. They proved easier than everyone, even the seemingly most loyal Murphy would probably cry some during marking, reluctantly rubbing afterward.
Alpha’s instinct tore against rationality, seemingly gaining advantage. He spared little strength speaking—just deity nodding and he could do anything.
The deity, however, simply met his gaze.
“Yes,” they admitted candidly.
Yu Feichen: “I’m troublesome?”
He didn’t think himself troublesome. Considering his prophecy card—seemed rather troublesome actually.
Yet the deity didn’t answer. Instead did something Yu Feichen never imagined.
——The ragged trembling breath gently pressed down. They moved toward Yu Feichen, right hand supporting against bed surface, straightening. The bed high—at this angle they towered above Yu Feichen somewhat.
The deity reached, gently pressing Yu Feichen’s shoulder, another hand touching his cheek, then leaning to kiss his forehead.
The surrounding atmosphere was suggestive, yet this kiss was silent, holy.
——Bestowing divine favor upon him.
Like prairie fire suddenly blazing, eternal day’s sun burning his soul to ash.
When his back heavily struck the bed surface, the supreme deity softly exhaled—now even breathing sounded moist.
“Second time,” they said.
Yu Feichen’s mind had little processing capacity remaining, yet this he clearly remembered—the second time they’d been forcefully thrown to bed.
Yet his “second time” was threat; their “second time” was barely said.
“Turn around,” he restrained them at the waist, pulling them from position, positioning them back-facing him. The robe lacked many buttons—one pull and it slipped from their shoulders.
He buried his face at the deity’s neck, like burying himself in eternal sleep flower fields.
Only after considerable time raising his head.
Golden hair cascaded messily across divine shoulders, beautiful collarbone like artwork.
He’d only recently realized: since his eyes proved insensitive to people’s appearances, then the deity’s incarnations he’d always seen weren’t their outer shell but their true form.
“What should I call you?” he murmured at their ear.
“Anything.”
“Anphiel,” he considered, then hoarsely whispered again: “Commander.”
“Commander” brought stronger reaction than “Anphiel.” He felt satisfied, yet the name he most desired remained unseen.
Yet he received a kiss today, so didn’t wish dwelling on it.
The deity’s fingers gently gripped his wrist, guiding his hand toward themselves.
So the search for that name temporarily receded. Yu Feichen afforded the deity little initiative—had that forehead kiss not pleased him, he wouldn’t have even granted them self-touching rights.
As reciprocation, kissing the fluffy curl at the deity’s hair ends momentarily distracted him.
The deity’s unknown name wasn’t alone. They possessed countless destiny epochs, even retroactively tracing would form endless roads impossible completing in lifetime. Perhaps the deity needed him only this moment; perhaps his pursuit was too.
He suddenly felt this ephemeral thought quite romantic, sufficient for poetry.
Afterward, no further distraction occurred. Alpha-omega worlds proved too chaotic; some physiological traits became meaningless. When knotting, omega first fled, then escaped nowhere—biting his shoulder struggling, finally went motionless, back drawn taut like tightened bowstring. Had they not shuddered several times afterward, Yu Feichen feared they’d truly died. Omegas should undergo surgical gland removal, he thought.
Though he’d fared no better. Midway the deity lost consciousness several times; he seemed losing all time and external awareness. When pheromone lessened, heat cycle apparently safely passing, he checked time, deliberated “how long without sleep humans die,” intending telling the deity “I’m sleeping”—discovering after emerging from the bathroom they’d lost consciousness completely sometime. Until he slept and woke, they showed no awakening signs.
The room had ventilation, yet the atmosphere remained indescribably absurd and suggestive. Yu Feichen found calm thinking impossible. Leaving the room, locking the door, visiting the terrace to experience normal living.
When Bai Song carefully climbed onto the terrace, he witnessed this scene.
Yu Feichen wearing someone’s overcoat—actually, couldn’t say wearing since his head remained inside.
——Yu Feichen sat on the terrace’s elevated viewing stairs, upper body shrouded in someone’s overcoat, utterly motionless.
“He… what’s wrong?” Bai Song asked.
“What’s wrong?” Windsor asked.
Secretary: “The duke’s gone into seclusion.”
Driver: “The duke’s been playing mushroom here half the day.”
“Then… why?”
“Foolish betas, how’d you understand alpha troubles,” the secretary covered his face, weeping. “You all seem unable helping—you’re also beta.”
Windsor thoughtfully circled Yu Feichen several times: “If memory serves, that’s Bishop Tan Per’s overcoat. He’s surrounded himself with his omega’s pheromone for peace.”
“Then why isn’t he peaceful?” Bai Song said.
Windsor checked the time, sighing.
“Some people think they control everything perfectly, discovering reality differs—they fall into deep self-doubt, reconsidering their relationship with this world,” Windsor said. “Disperse. The sanatorium no longer welcomes him.”
Finishing, he sighed long: “Alphas always awaken after events, regretting their impulsiveness and excess, dwelling forever in remorse. They rarely admit being irrational creatures—don’t look at me like that. I’m omega rights protection organization member, so I understand alpha enemies well.”
Yu Feichen flatly said: “Nobody asked you speaking.”
The secretary joyfully exclaimed: “The duke lives!”
Bai Song: “Yu-ge! My Yu-ge!”
“Bishop Kayan, who are you calling?”
“Regional dialect, respectful address for the duke.”
Yu Feichen faced his most dreaded scenario—these four simultaneously appearing, inevitably forced listening to group comedy performance today.
Yet he wasn’t actually in seclusion.
He was carefully reading Triggered and Frenzied: Two Extremes of Fear’s alpha section.
Before opening this, he’d finished Understanding Your Alpha, An Alpha’s Inner World, and several similar books.
His only current thought: perhaps he genuinely shouldn’t have come here.
When Yu Feichen first started working in paradise, he felt unfamiliar with most worlds.
He had much to remember, many things to observe. Thus constantly learning. This behavior continued until he could deftly handle any environment’s emergencies. Later, even when new things appeared, underlying patterns held no novelty for him.
Yet today marked his first time witnessing omega heat.
Also first time knowing those cold, distant eyes could transform into glistening water.
Especially—it was no one else, but the deity dwelling upon Twilight Peak.
It pressed fingertips into palms, wanting some clarity restored, yet seemingly lacked even that strength. Trying several times without complete closure, finally dropping, grasping white bedsheets.
Despite this, maintaining composure on Its face, lightly pursed lips, brushing disheveled curls behind ears, letting surrounding heat dissipate slightly. This barely-sustained calm made Yu Feichen’s mind suddenly blank for a moment. He recognized himself again.
He didn’t like untouched divine statues. He loved the moon in water—fragile as glass.
—Yet more loved this shattering divine phantom’s vision.
He extended his hand. Fingertips brushed the deity’s cheek. Fleeting, barely-there touches made maintaining clarity increasingly difficult. Yet eternal sleep flower pheromone left it both yearning and fearful. The supreme deity looked up at him, two emotions intertwining into desperate obsession.
Yet it still wasn’t fully driven by instinct, never approaching Yu Feichen.
Rather, Yu Feichen withdrew slightly, leisurely arranging his clothes, sitting composedly in the bedside armchair, simply watching.
Omega pulled into heat, beyond instinctive craving, experiences alternating hot and cold. Yet neither could be soothed through external means.
He watched as the deity grasped thin blankets, pulling them over shoulders, long fingers securing the fabric at the neckline. This proved entirely useless. Cloth surface friction against skin intensified the torment. Finally releasing, white satin scattered downward, draping the body like scattered drifting clouds.
Finally the supreme deity looked toward him.
“You haven’t come of age?” It said.
Yu Feichen: “I have.”
“Then what are you doing?” The deity regarded him coldly, yet with eye corners still reddened, the gaze lacked force.
Yu Feichen was farewell to his past self, entirely due to the supreme deity’s grace.
Normally he’d avoid even bodily contact with people, let alone pursue flesh’s pleasures.
He knew this would make many relationships subtly deteriorate. Especially when the other party was the supreme deity—essentially a massive problem.
Yet he didn’t want refusing.
Even from this world’s beginning, he never considered refusing. Only upon awakening through the deity did this become clear.
All his—objections stemmed from not wanting guessing, fearing trouble.
Not from unwillingness approaching It.
Many past matters proved similar.
Once understanding this, it felt like bidding farewell to lengthy epochs.
Yu Feichen: “Mourning my youth.”
He loosened his collar. With omega in this state, he as alpha having completed half of permanent marking, certainly wasn’t comfortable either.
Regrettably, deity treated all impartially. He couldn’t cool himself through external means.
But this didn’t mean he’d advance.
“I truly want helping relieve your current situation,” he told the deity, “but I’ve wanted asking you something for a long time.”
“In this marking matter, you accept all my choices yet never indicate stance,” he watched the deity steadily. “Isn’t that also a form of hesitation and evasion?”
After all, whether marking could verify neither his ability nor morality.
Yet he truly couldn’t imagine what troubled the deity. It proved easier than everyone, even probably-most-loyal Murphy—if marking here, might cry a few times, then reluctantly cling afterward.
Alpha instinct and reason tore at each other, slight advantage to instinct. He lacked energy for speech. Given the deity’s slightest nod, he could do anything.
Yet the deity maintained quiet mutual gaze.
“Yes,” It admitted openly.
Yu Feichen: “I’m troublesome?”
He felt himself not troublesome. Reconsidering his prophecy card, it seemed rather troublesome indeed.
Yet the deity didn’t answer. Instead did something Yu Feichen never anticipated.
—Chaotic, trembling breaths gently pressed down. It moved toward Yu Feichen, right hand supporting on the bed, rising up. The bed was high; at this angle, It was slightly higher than Yu Feichen.
The deity reached gently placing hands on Yu Feichen’s shoulders. Another hand touched his cheek, then leaning forward, kissing his forehead.
The atmosphere proved ambiguous indescribable, yet this kiss silent and sacred.
—Receiving divine favor fallen upon him.
Like prairie fire suddenly igniting, eternal day’s sun burned his soul completely.
When shoulders struck the bed, the deity lightly gasped—even breathing now dripped dampness.
“Second time,” It said.
Yu Feichen’s mind had little processing left, yet remembered this clearly. This was the second time being forcefully thrown onto the bed.
Yet his “second time” was genuine threat. The deity’s “second time” equivalent to unspoken.
“Turn around,” He pulled the person from the waist, repositioning them facing away. The nightrobe barely had buttons; one pull and it slid from shoulders.
He buried his face in the deity’s neck, burying himself in eternal sleep flower fields.
Only much later raising his head.
Golden hair cascaded messily across divine shoulders, beautifully-lined shoulders like artwork.
He’d only recently realized—since his eyes felt insensitive to everyone’s appearances, then all the deity’s incarnations he’d witnessed weren’t their shell but the divine true form.
“What should I call you?” he whispered at Its ear.
“Anything works.”
“Anphiel,” he considered, then hoarsely whispered “Superior Officer.”
“Superior Officer” brought greater reaction than “Anphiel.” He felt satisfied, though the name he most desired remained unseen even in shadow.
Yet today he received a kiss. He didn’t care about this.
The deity’s fingers gently grasped his wrist, drawing his hand toward its body.
So searching for that name temporarily faded. Yu Feichen gave the deity scarce opportunity taking initiative. Had that forehead kiss not pleased him, he wouldn’t even grant the omega rights touching itself.
Yet as return gift, kissing the fluffy curl at the deity’s hair tip, he momentarily lost focus.
Unknown to him, the deity held not only that name. It possessed countless destiny-pasts. Even backtracking from now meant infinite roads—impossible traversing across one lifetime. Perhaps the deity only needed him this moment, he only wanted tracing perhaps equally.
Suddenly he found this ephemeral thought rather romantic, worthy of poetry.
After that, no more wandering thoughts. Alpha-omega world too chaotic. Some biological characteristics utterly meaningless. When bonding formed, omega first fled, then trapped, biting his shoulders struggling, finally still—shoulders rigid like drawn bowstrings. Had they not trembled afterward, Yu Feichen feared true death. Omega should undergo surgery removing reproductive cavities, he thought.
Yet he wasn’t in better state. The deity fainted several times. He felt losing all time and external perception. When pheromone weakened, heat seemingly safely passed, checking time and considering “how long humans survive without sleep before death,” wanting telling the deity “I’m sleeping,” discovering instead the person exiting the bathroom long unconscious, sleeping through his rest and waking—no signs of regaining consciousness.
The room had ventilation systems, but atmosphere remained unspeakably absurd and ambiguous. Yu Feichen found calm thinking impossible. Leaving and locking the door, heading to the terrace for normal living.
When Bai Song carefully climbed onto the terrace, seeing such a sight:
His Yu-ge wearing—no, that couldn’t be called wearing—his Yu-ge’s upper body covered by an unknown overcoat, completely still.
“He… what happened?” Bai Song asked.
“What happened?” Windsor asked.
Secretary: “Duke’s having a mental breakdown.”
Driver: “Duke’s been standing as mushroom for half a day.”
“So… why?”
“Stupid betas couldn’t understand alpha troubles,” the secretary covered his face in grief. “Seems you can’t help either—you’re all betas.”
Windsor circled Yu Feichen observing: “If memory serves, this is Bishop Tan Per’s overcoat. He’s surrounded himself in his own omega pheromone, seeking peace.”
“So why isn’t he peaceful?” Bai Song asked.
Windsor checked the time, sighing.
“Some people believe themselves very self-controlled, everything within grasp. Upon discovering otherwise, they fall into deep self-doubt, requiring rethinking their relationship with the world,” Windsor said. “Disperse. The sanatorium no longer welcomes him.”
Finishing with long sigh: “Alphas always awaken too late to their impulsiveness and excess, deeply regretting. They often refuse admitting they’re unreasoning—don’t look at me like that. I’m omega-rights protection organization member, thus deeply understanding alpha enemies.”
Yu Feichen flatly: “Nobody asked you to speak.”
Secretary delighted: “Duke’s alive!”
Bai Song: “Yu-ge! My Yu-ge!”
“Bishop Kayan, who’re you calling?”
“This is my hometown dialect—respectful address for duke.”
Yu Feichen’s most-dreaded scene occurred: four people appearing simultaneously. Today’s forced listen to cross-talk comedy was inevitable.
Yet he wasn’t actually having a mental breakdown.
He was carefully reading Triggered and Frenzied: Two Extremes of Fear, alpha chapter.
Before opening this, he’d finished Understanding Your Alpha, Alpha’s Inner World and several others.
His sole current thought: perhaps he fundamentally shouldn’t have come here.