The taxi ride home is a blur of neon lights and existential dread.
I'm sitting in the back seat, thighs aching, shirt buttoned wrong, smelling like sex and expensive cologne that isn't mine. The driver keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror like he knows 'exactly' what I've been doing.
He probably does.
I press my forehead against the cool glass and try to process.
I died, I transmigrated, I woke up getting knotted by a stranger, I just spent hours... 'god, how many hours?'... being fucked senseless in a luxury hotel room by an alpha whose name I don't even know.
And now I'm going... home?
I search the borrowed memories for an address, directions, anything useful. They come in fragments, a house in the Jade Garden district, an old money neighborhood now fading at the edges, a three-story traditional home with a garden that Mother tends obsessively to maintain appearances.
The Li family residence.
My family now, I guess.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
I have a family, parents, a sister, a whole life that isn't mine but somehow is now.
Original Runze's memories are patchy, like a movie I'm watching through frosted glass. I can see shapes and colors but the details are fuzzy, his childhood running through the garden, his parents' disappointed faces at every family dinner.
His sister's kindness, the family textile business that his grandfather built, that his father has been slowly losing ground to newer, more aggressive competitors. The declining profits, the pressure to modernize, the need for capital and connections that this marriage alliance will provide.
His hopeless crush on Wei Jian, who just got engaged to someone else.
Which is why Original Runze got blackout drunk and seduced a stranger.
Which is why I'm currently sitting in a taxi at seven in the morning, thoroughly wrecked, with cum still drying on my thighs.
Great life choices all around.
The taxi pulls up to a neighborhood that whispers "old money, quieter now." Wide streets lined with mature trees, traditional houses behind walls, most well-maintained, a few showing their age.
The Li house is somewhere in the middle. Still impressive with its curved roof tiles and traditional architecture, but you can see where they've had to make choices. The garden is smaller than it used to be, one section clearly sold off years ago, the gate needs a fresh coat of paint. Small things that wouldn't matter to most people, but in a neighborhood like this, people notice.
I pay the driver with cash I find in my pocket (at least Original Runze had the sense to bring money) and stumble out onto the sidewalk.
My legs nearly give out.
I grab the taxi door for support, breathing hard, and the driver gives me a look that's half judgment, half pity.
"You okay, kid?"
"Fine," I grit out. "Just... long night."
"I'll bet." He drives off, leaving me alone on the empty street.
I look up at the house. Three stories of traditional architecture, wooden shutters on the windows, a small balcony on the second floor, beautiful in a dignified way, like an old aristocracy that doesn't need to prove anything anymore.
Home.
I push through the gate (it creaks slightly, could use some oil) and walk up the stone path through the garden. Dawn light filters through the maple trees, and I can smell jasmine and earth.
My body is 'screaming'. Everything hurts in that deep, thorough way that suggests I've been used in ways my previous virgin body never imagined possible.
The knot, God, the 'knot'.
I can still feel the phantom stretch of it locked inside me, that overwhelming fullness, my body clenches reflexively and I have to bite down on a whimper.
No, absolutely not, we are not thinking about that right now.
I make it to the front door and stand there, key in hand, paralyzed.
What if they know? What if one look at me and they can tell? What if omegas in this world have some kind of mark, some sign that says 'freshly knotted'?
I'm being ridiculous.
I unlock the door and step inside.
The house is exactly as the memories suggested. Traditional wooden floors, family portraits lining the walls, antique furniture that's been passed down for generations. Everything is clean and well-maintained, though I notice the runner on the stairs is getting worn, and there are lighter patches on the walls where paintings used to hang. Not desperate, just... carefully managed.
It's quiet, maybe everyone's still asleep...
"RUNZE!"
I nearly jump out of my skin.
A woman appears from the direction of the kitchen, mid-thirties but looks older from stress, wearing an expensive silk robe that's probably five years out of style. Her hair is perfectly done despite the early hour, appearance is everything for Li Meifeng.
My mother.
The memories supply her name along with a lifetime of disappointment and desperately high expectations.
"Where have you 'been'?" She crosses toward me and I instinctively step back. "Do you have any idea what time it is? We've been calling you all night!"
"I..." I have to clear my throat twice before words come out. "My phone died."
Her eyes narrow, taking in my appearance. The wrinkled clothes, the wrong buttons, the marks I can feel blooming on my neck.
Oh god, the marks.
I slap a hand over my throat but it's too late, her expression shifts from fury to horror.
"What did you 'do'?"
"Nothing, I just..."
"Don't lie to me!" She grabs my arm, yanking me further into the house. "You smell like..." She inhales sharply, face going pale. "Alpha pheromones, you reek of them."
I yank my arm away. "It's none of your business."
"None of my..." She looks like I've slapped her. "Your sister's engagement party is in three days! 'Three days'! The most important social event this family has had in years, and you're out doing... 'this'?"
She gestures at me like I'm a crime scene.
"We have guests coming! Important guests! The engagement party is in three days!" Her voice rises to a shrill pitch that probably carries through the whole house. "Three days, Runze! And you choose now to start... whatever this is? What if word gets out? What if you've gotten yourself involved with someone who causes problems? What if this ruins everything?"
She's breathing hard, face flushed with anger and panic.
"Do you understand what this marriage means? The partnership with the Wuchen Group, the connections, the capital infusion our business needs. One scandal, one whisper of impropriety from this family right now, and they could walk away."
She gestures at me, at my wrecked appearance, the marks on my neck.
"You smell like you rolled out of some alpha's bed, what if someone sees you like this? What if rumors start before the party?" She makes a disgusted sound. "Go shower, now, scrub yourself until you smell normal again, and stay out of trouble until after the engagement party. Can you manage that?"
My hands curl into fists. "I'm not... I didn't..."
But what can I say? She's right. I 'do' smell like sex and alpha pheromones. I 'am' covered in marks.
"Save it," she snaps. "Just go shower, now."
"What's going on?" A new voice said.