BTFB chapter 4

The phenomenon of differentiation emerged, defined as success, integrated into societal norms, all within a span of just 100 years.

The division of humanity into the first and second genders, where men and women could coexist with ABO, was established. The determinant of fertility was no longer the first gender but the second.

With the widespread occurrence of differentiation, related research began. Despite public observations and conclusions—Alphas being stronger, smarter, and possessing elite characteristics compared to Betas and Omegas—these judgments required rigorous and scientific verification through long-term observational experiments.

Nearly half a century later, the correlation between the second gender and population quality was sufficiently proven.

Beyond the scientific realm, discussions on gender topics began to broaden in society.

While society previously deemed heterosexuality as the most reasonable due to its ability to form families and produce new members for societal continuation, would this perspective remain logically consistent after the introduction of second gender rules?

Even in same-sex relationships involving Alphas and Omegas, new life could still be created. Would the public alter their perception of same-sex relationships? In countries where same-sex marriage was not allowed, would related laws need to change?

Similarly, even in a male-female pairing, if both were Alphas or both Omegas, there would be no chance of conception. Would such relationships be considered deviant? Should societal standards for same-sex relationships change?

Some also noted that in the aforementioned topics, the Beta group never appeared.

They were excluded by the pheromone rules.

These were grand issues at the societal and even civilizational levels. Yet, even at the level of a high school, changes occurred due to the emergence of the second gender.

After the confirmation of the innate superiority of Alphas, the majority of Beta individuals felt uneasy. If access to educational resources continued to follow the previous rules, what fairness could exist in society?

Whether a person could enter the elite class was determined at the moment of their differentiation. An Alpha who casually studied could easily grasp difficult concepts and achieve impressive scores, while a hardworking Beta struggled to keep up.

Although the probability of Alpha differentiation was less than 10%, from then on, all high-quality resources and government support would be in the hands of Alphas. While Omegas could still benefit through marriage, for Betas to enter the elite class became an almost impossible task.

The logic was clear, but the experimentation and adjustment of the new rules still took about a decade.

Lin Cang High School had always been the best in terms of teaching quality and student competence in Yancang City. If they continued to admit students based on grades and personal preferences, the entire school would be composed of Alphas.

To ensure that Betas and Omegas also had the opportunity to enjoy high-quality educational resources, the education department issued a directive: Alphas should not exceed 40% of the new students admitted to Lin Cang High School. Although this rule seemed to intensify competition for both Alphas and non-Alphas, it at least maintained a semblance of fairness.

So, in such a situation, with thousands of soldiers crossing an increasingly narrow single-log bridge, Zhao Yuan and Bian Liming, as Betas, successfully broke through—only to enter a larger and more fierce battlefield.

Perhaps this also explained why Lin Cang High School’s student organization established the “Responsibility Senior” system, and why there were many new students in the school struggling to adapt to the rules.

Similarly, this also explained why Bian Liming, in this relationship between seniors and juniors, fully acknowledged and trusted his senior, Zhao Yuan. From then on, the two were inseparable, going to school together in the morning and walking back home together in the evening.

Heading east in the morning, returning west in the evening. The two young men walking side by side, forever facing the sun.

Recalling that time in high school, Zhao Yuan always thought of Bian Liming, who was still in his first year.

When the teacher said boys couldn’t have long hair, he obediently cut a simple crew cut without any embellishments. As a result, the next day, he was the only one in the class with such a hairstyle.

On the way home that day, Bian Liming looked regretful, with a low-spirited demeanor. To console him, Zhao Yuan, for the first time, complimented his appearance:

“In fact, the crew cut looks good on you. I hadn’t noticed how perfect your facial features were before.”

Also, in the second semester of the first year, when Bian Liming couldn’t accept that his efforts weren’t reflected in an improvement in his academic ranking, he decided to pursue a piano major.

At that time, Zhao Yuan was both surprised and angry, thinking Bian Liming was being stubborn. After studying so hard for an entire semester, deciding to pursue a major like this seemed irrational.

However, when Zhao Yuan went to Bian Liming’s house, intending to question him about it, Bian Liming was practicing the piano.

He opened the door for Zhao Yuan and then returned to the piano stool to play a piece.

Zhao Yuan remembered that piece even more than ten years later—Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song.”

It was as if Zhao Yuan could see the mountains and forests of spring, the brook sliding over the stones at the bottom of the river, making a “gurgling” sound, cheerfully carrying sunlight away. A gentle breeze swayed the hanging branches, and the newly sprouted green buds looked like a thin mist from a distance, reflecting the light on the water’s surface.

Bian Liming played so earnestly, his eyes focused on the piano keys, and his thick eyelashes lowered. The morning sun was still gentle, streaming through the French windows, uniformly and warmly illuminating Bian Liming. It added a soft golden glow to his already exquisite and three-dimensional facial features.

The grand piano had excellent dynamic tones, and with the lid open, the sound spread throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, creating a sacred reverberation.

As the piece concluded, Bian Liming turned around at the piano. Like a small dog, he leaned on the piano stool with his arms in front of him, his bright eyes eagerly asking Zhao Yuan, “How was it? Did you like it?”

Zhao Yuan was caught off guard, and all the words he had prepared to scold someone were suddenly useless. It felt like swallowing a sweet-tasting soft nail.

Reluctantly, he avoided Bian Liming’s gaze and nodded slowly.

Contrary to Zhao Yuan’s initial expectations, Bian Liming made his professional direction in a calm and rational state. In the field of arts, sensitivity and talent were the real deal; even as a Beta, there were no particularly challenging shortcomings compared to Alphas.

It was Zhao Yuan himself who acted irrationally. On the eve of graduation, due to an unexpected incident, he made a choice he had never considered before.

During the winter break of their senior year, Bian Liming stayed overnight at Zhao Yuan’s house for one night and went back the next day.

However, the next morning, Zhao Yuan’s grandmother caught a cold, coughed, and had a fever. After taking fever-reducing medicine for two or three days with no improvement and an inability to eat, Zhao Yuan’s father, who was responsible for a lot of program-related work, took leave to accompany his grandmother to the hospital. After the examination, Zhao Yuan’s grandmother completed the hospital admission procedures. As her organs were unable to function properly due to the fever, and with a pre-existing chronic illness, the situation worsened. The high fever refused to subside, and her condition could only deteriorate further.

With more and more symptoms appearing, doctors could only prescribe medication tailored to each symptom; however, the complex medication triggered an immune storm in Zhao Yuan’s grandmother’s body. The situation took a drastic turn one night, and she was directly sent to the ICU and couldn’t come out.

During that week, the program Zhao Yuan’s parents were responsible for, for the first time, broadcast a replay of a previous episode due to the overwhelming circumstances.

Zhao Yuan’s grandfather suffered a sudden heart attack outside the ICU, and after two days of strenuous treatment, he eventually passed away.

Zhao Yuan had always been told that his grandmother’s illness was just a common cold. Due to the stress of the senior class workload, he had only visited the hospital once during his grandmother’s hospitalization.

No one expected that by the second visit, Zhao Yuan had lost two family members.

During the preparations for the funeral ceremony, Bian Liming came to find Zhao Yuan several times. Due to the chaos at home, Zhao Yuan didn’t let him in.

On one occasion, the two walked along a deserted sidewalk and stopped at an intersection, leaning against the wall, watching the passing cars. The winter in Yancang City was damp and cold, and the cold seeped into the bones through the collar.

Zhao Yuan, leaning against the wall of someone else’s yard, didn’t speak. Bian Liming also didn’t know what to say, just silently stood beside him, accompanying him.

Zhao Yuan took out half a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, lit it with a lighter, and exhaled a shallow puff of smoke.

Bian Liming looked at him sideways, stunned, forgetting to speak.

Zhao Yuan met Bian Liming’s gaze, lifted the corner of his mouth, and smiled a little, “Do you want one?”

Bian Liming’s gaze trembled a bit. He looked at the pack of cigarettes offered by Zhao Yuan, then looked at Zhao Yuan’s face, and asked somewhat hesitantly, “You… Why did you start smoking?”

Zhao Yuan didn’t answer, just extended the half pack of cigarettes toward Bian Liming. With a cigarette between his teeth, he raised his chin slightly, and with slightly slurred words, he said, “So, do you want it or not?”

Bian Liming’s eyelashes trembled slightly, and with a somewhat complex expression, he reached into the cigarette pack and took one, putting it in his mouth.

Zhao Yuan then took out a lighter to help him light the cigarette, using his hand to shield against the wind. However, after trying for a while, he still couldn’t light it.

With a “tsk” sound, Zhao Yuan said to Bian Liming,

“When I light it, you need to take a puff.”

Bian Liming seemed to have some talent for smoking. In just a few tries, he confidently began to blow smoke rings, not getting choked at all.

The two stood at the street corner, leaning against the wall behind them, quietly taking deep breaths with the assistance of the smoke.

Bian Liming didn’t ask Zhao Yuan why he started smoking, whether he was in a bad mood, or if there was anything he needed to do.

He just quietly stood there, accompanying him. In front of the passing traffic that didn’t stop for them, in the winter wind that didn’t warm them up, in the white smoke dispersing before their eyes.

Zhao Yuan smoked faster than Bian Liming. After extinguishing the cigarette in his hand, he half-closed his fist, covering his nose and mouth with the back of his hand, lowering his head to look at the ground.

Bian Liming’s cigarette was also finished. He looked at Zhao Yuan with a mix of concern and pity, gently patting his back.

Zhao Yuan straightened his neck, turned to look at Bian Liming, and pointed the back of his right hand to Bian Liming’s nose:

“This cigarette belonged to my grandfather. From childhood to now, his hands always had this smell.”

From that moment on, Zhao Yuan had an unwavering professional goal – he wanted to study medicine.

Zhao Yuan had speculated countless times. If someone in his family had medical knowledge and questioned the medications used by multiple departments and doctors—even if there was no need for questioning, just a reminder—would the doctors have paid attention to the possible butterfly effects of the drugs? Would they have been more cautious, and would the immune storm not have occurred?

Clearly, it started with just a fever. In modern society, how could someone really die from a common cold?

He didn’t read the book “News: The Illusion of Politics” again. The bookmark stayed on page 30, and the book was faithfully returned to the bookshelf in Zhao Yuan’s parents’ bedroom.

In the remaining time of his senior year, Zhao Yuan did his best and successfully entered the medical department of Yancang University, a five-year undergraduate program. Becoming a clinical doctor required at least 8 years of study, so as he didn’t enter the “5+3” program, he could only apply for a (probably less competitive) master’s program after graduation.

Although it wasn’t the best result, Zhao Yuan was satisfied. He knew he had done his best within his capabilities. After all, in higher education without the so-called “constraints of fairness,” the number of Betas in the entire medical department at Yancang University didn’t even exceed 10.

The following year, Bian Liming’s school exam went smoothly. In the final exam, he encountered a teacher who admired him a lot, and his ranking in the qualification certificate was quite high. The subsequent written exams were also smooth, and he effortlessly entered the Art College of Yancang University.

A year later, Bian Liming and Zhao Yuan once again became senior and junior. However, unlike the first meeting, Bian Liming no longer addressed Zhao Yuan as senior, just directly calling him Zhao Yuan. When he wanted to be more intimate, he would call him “Ah Yuan.”

Zhao Yuan remained unchanged, always calling Bian Liming by his full name. However, when Bian Liming called him by his nickname, he didn’t stop him.

There were two coffee shops on the campus of Yancang University. One was a small shop in the living area, and the other was on the basement level of the library. The distance and style were quite different, but their coffee quality was equally unimpressive.

Bian Liming and Zhao Yuan were used to the freshly ground coffee made from high-quality beans at home. Therefore, every time they bought coffee, they had to leave the campus and go to the coffee shop at the east gate of the school.

“Want to grab coffee?” “Sure, what time?”

With just two short messages, the two could easily arrange to meet.

Sometimes, if Zhao Yuan arrived before Bian Liming, he would stand at the entrance and smoke a cigarette.

Bian Liming wouldn’t take too long. Usually, before Zhao Yuan finished his cigarette, Bian Liming would appear in his sight—

The white smoke dispersed, and in the haze, a figure quickly walked toward him.

Even from a distance, Zhao Yuan could recognize Bian Liming’s walking posture.

Zhao Yuan would then turn to walk in Bian Liming’s direction, holding a cigarette between his fingers, tilting his head slightly, and staring straight at the figure approaching him. He would keep staring until Bian Liming walked right in front of him, within a meter.

Bian Liming looked at the remaining smoke that hadn’t dissipated yet, then looked at Zhao Yuan:

“Studying medicine now, and still smoking every day?”

Zhao Yuan chuckled lightly, flicked off the cigarette ash, pressed the cigarette against the wall behind him, and said:

“Habit. Can’t quit.”