Chapter Text
“Chin up, boy! Pull your shoulders back. Now, step forward with grace. Grace, I said. GRACE.” The Matchmaker sighs and throws her hands up, exasperated. Zhang Hao has been here for over two hours now, being poked and prodded and moved around like a doll while she judged him, getting increasingly annoyed at his constant failures. She stares at him now, scowling, “He has to be the worst Omega I’ve ever been presented with.”
Hao only blinks, not surprised in the slightest. He’s only been an Omega for a total of eight days now, and it came as a complete shock to everyone. His ancestors did not have many children, but the few that they did have were always Alpha’s. As such, everyone expected Hao to be an Alpha too, including himself. It was inconceivable to imagine any different.
Alpha’s usually presented later than Beta’s and Omega’s, between seventeen and eighteen years old, but when Hao’s birthdays passed and he remained unpresented, no one really worried. He was just a late bloomer. It was rare, but it did happen. When he turned nineteen people began to whisper, his status –or lack thereof– becoming a hot topic among the nobles in his parent's circle.
Then he was twenty, and still nothing. It was beyond unusual, and he became a common subject in many conversations, even amongst those who were below his status. “Did you hear about the Zhang’s only child? I heard there’s something wrong with him” they said. It didn’t bother Hao, he was an Alpha after all, even if he hadn’t presented yet. That’s what he’s been told he was all his life, what he’d spent years training to be. Surely, if everyone says that’s what he’ll be, it must be true.
It did, however, bother his parents. His Alpha father and Beta mother were both from highly respected noble families, and Hao has shamed them.
They searched all of China for the best Fortune Tellers, Doctors, and Shamans. They spent a fortune on fees, and Hao was subjected to all sorts of disgusting concoctions and remedies that they swore would cause him to present soon. That ‘Soon’ turned out to be only a few months after his twenty-second birthday, two years after the first doctor was called in, and an entire five years later than expected. More, if you consider that Omega’s usually presented the youngest of all subgenders, at only fifteen.
Hao doesn’t remember much of the days after he finally presented, when he was in the throes of his first heat. He does remember the way his parents reacted when they realised that he was presenting. He remembers his father's relief, and his mother's joy, that was quickly replaced by horror when they realised just what he was presenting as. He remembers the way his mother begged the Shaman to undo whatever he did to him, that she would rather him be unpresented forever than be an Omega. He remembers his father's anger, and the way he walked away without saying anything. He remembers crying out, begging them not to leave him, before he was drowning in the seemingly endless heat-fire-pain-fear of his first heat.
He remembers waking up alone three days later, starving, covered in slick and sweat, and having to force himself to stand –despite his lack of energy– to call someone, only to find his door locked. Hours passed before a servant finally came to check on him, to bring him food and water, and when they left they locked the door behind them again. The same servant came back twice a day after that, but would not speak to him, or let him out of his room, no matter how much he begged or cried. No one else was allowed to see him. His parents could not risk anyone finding out that the Zhang’s centuries long legacy of Alpha’s had finally ended.
He didn’t see his mother again until earlier that very morning, when she came to take him to the Matchmaker, already planning how she can mitigate the damage to their family's reputation. He doubts that he’ll see his father any time soon.
“He has no training yet, I’m sure he’ll learn.” His mother says to the Matchmaker, almost desperately, only to be met with a scoff.
“There’s no helping him. It will take years before he’s even slightly passable, and he’s already too old for a good match.” She pauses, pursing her lips in thought, “I might be able to find a Beta from the lower ranking nobility willing to take him, they’re usually less picky about Omega’s. They have to be. Omega’s usually match with those above their station, not below, but I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice with yours.”
“We’ll hire tutors, the best of the best. They’ll make sure he learns fast. Please, we need to restore our families honour, this is the only way. He needs a good match.”
The Matchmaker frowns at his mother's begging and looks at Hao, who quickly lowers his eyes to the floor. He wasn’t supposed to be looking, and he knows she caught him, but she doesn’t say anything about it.
“He’ll never find a good match in China,” she says eventually, after a long silence, “So I am unable to help you. But teach him how to brew proper tea and how to use a needle and he might be salvageable enough for a foreigner. Avoid any who speak English, you’ll want one he can’t communicate with. By the time he learns a new language, he might have learned how to hold his tongue and not speak without permission. And maybe, if there’s a miracle, how to act like a proper Omega.” He hears footsteps come towards him and he doesn’t dare glance up as she circles him.
“There’s a lot you won’t be able to fix that will hinder his chances of finding a mate,” she continues, adjusting his posture as she speaks, forcing him to stand straighter, “He’s thin enough to pass as delicate, but he’s too tall, and his voice too deep. His face will pass as pretty if you fix those,” she says as she gestures to his eyebrows, “just make sure he never wears red, or he will appear too masculine. It’s fortunate that he can play an instrument already, or he’d be even more worthless as an Omega.”
She turns back to his mother, and Hao listens to her thank the Matchmaker profusely before tuning their conversation out, not wanting to hear them speak about him as if he’s an object any longer.
He’s used to being judged and found lacking, but usually for completely opposite reasons. All his life he’s been told he was too thin for an Alpha, to bulk up more, even though he was trying, it just wasn’t working. That Alpha’s don’t play instruments, no matter how much they love them –they have Omega’s play for them instead, so they can focus on more important things. That he’s too gentle, and acts too cute, and is oddly calm for an Alpha. All those things, now that he thinks about it, were probably signs that his subgender wasn’t what they were expecting that went ignored, his parents refusing to consider that he was anything but an Alpha.
He pulls himself out of his thoughts when he notices his mother gesturing at him to join her in paying respect to the Matchmaker. It bothers him to show such respect to someone who has shown him none, but it’s not worth the lecture he’d get from his mother if he didn’t, so he forces himself to be polite and bow alongside his mother to the Matchmaker before they leave.
Just before they close the door behind them, he hears the Matchmaker call after them, “And fix how he walks! An Omega should be graceful, like a swan, not bumbling about like a baboon!”
His mother doesn’t speak to him on the journey back to their estate, and Hao suspects she wouldn’t look at him either, but with the windows of their carriage covered by thick curtains, she has no choice.
He knew his parents cared about their reputation, but he’s only just realising how far they’d go to protect it. They always said they loved him, that he would make them proud. But now they won’t even acknowledge his existence unless it was absolutely necessary, and he was unprepared for how much it would hurt.
His mother wasted no time finding him tutors after their visit to the Matchmaker, and Hao spent the following weeks learning the basics of all the arts Omega’s were expected to know. Every tutor despaired at how hopeless he was, saying that most of the time, it’s obvious when your subgender is Omega, and they start training young. That he’d never be able to be anything but average at a few of the expected Omega pastimes, and that he’d had a lifetime of Alpha conditioning that they’d never be able to fully erase.
Hao learned how to do many things he had never even spared a thought about before. He never knew there were so many different variations of needle crafts, but now his fingers were constantly sore from all the times he had stabbed them. It was mind-numbingly boring, and he was constantly being scolded for his mistakes, of which there were many. Needlework was something he definitely did not excel at, despite the tutors attempts to find at least one style that he could at least obtain passable proficiency at. Hao wishes they would write it off as a lost cause already, it was not something he ever planned to do voluntarily.
He has lessons on etiquette, which he did try to follow. It’s not his fault that they were opposite of how he had been trained to act!
His art lessons went just as poorly, though if he had a choice –which he suspects he doesn’t– he would take those over any form of needlework. At least they were enjoyable. It was a shame his mother refused to hire a cooking tutor, he might have enjoyed that too. But it was beneath their family to do servants work, so it was the only common Omega duty that he was not expected to learn.
His favourite lessons by far were the music related ones. They came easily to him, and were often over too quickly for his taste, seeming to end mere minutes after they had begun, even though he was told that hours had passed. He was, unfortunately, not allowed to play his violin. Instead, he spent those lessons learning about other instruments that Omega’s were expected to play, like the piano or the harp. But he didn’t complain. It was music, even if it was unfamiliar. Hao allowed himself to be immersed completely in those lessons, and that tutor was the only one whoever praised him.
His least favourite lesson, by far, was one that he never expected his mother to actually find a tutor for. When the Noble Lady first swept into the room, Hao was unsure what she was supposed to teach him. But then she told him to walk so she could see what she was dealing with, and he could do nothing but stare at her in shock. He was really expected to have walking lessons? He knew how to walk, he had been doing it since he was a child!
Needless to say, the first lesson was a complete disaster. The ones following weren’t much better, but at least he’d learned his lesson about questioning this particular tutor. She had a nasty temper and for every mistake he made she would make him walk another lap of his room. Hao was so tired of walking. The nasty headache he always had after the lesson ended from the books he had to balance on his head was almost worth it because it meant that the two hours of hell he was put through was finally over.
And then after all his lessons were over, he was given books about the subjects to read that he would be quizzed on the next day. Even if he was allowed to leave his room, by the time he was done with everything he was too mentally exhausted to want to do anything but sleep.
One night, almost six weeks after his presentation, his routine changes. It was late at night and Hao was just finishing the book he was given that day, ‘Omegan Etiquette Volume 7: Table Manners’, when he heard something rustling, followed by a loud thump.
He startles, almost dropping his book, and turns to stare at the sole window of his room. It’s not long before there’s a soft tapping on the window, and he hears a voice whispering his name.
“Hao,” it hisses, “Let me in. Hurry!”
Hao doesn’t hesitate, knowing only one person is insane enough to climb up to his room on the third floor. Sure enough, when he opens the window, he’s faced with none other than Chen Kuanjui, his best friend.
“Jui, What are you doing?” he exclaims, a bit too loudly, “It’s the middle of the night!”
“Shh! Do you want someone to hear you? Let me in and I’ll explain!”
Hao huffs and grips his friend's arm, helping pull him inside. Once the window is closed again, so the chill winter air doesn’t get in and their voices don’t get out, Hao repeats his question at a more normal volume.
“What else was I supposed to do? No one would let me see you! They keep saying you’re sick, but that’s clearly not the case.” Kuanjui says, eyeing him. “And when I passed the parlour earlier, I heard your parents talking. They said something about finding you a mate in Hánguó of all places.”
“Hánguó?” Hao gasps in shock, focusing on that one word and disregarding the rest, “Are you certain?”
Hánguó was one of the last places he would have guessed his parents would look, with both their countries only recently having established a tentative peace after centuries of tension. He knows nothing about Hánguó.
“Yeah, I’m certain. They said it pretty clearly. I wanted to avoid getting caught so I didn’t stay to listen some more, but now I’m- Hey, nonono why are you crying, stop it, that’s gross.”
Hao didn’t even realise he was crying, but now that he’s started, he can’t seem to stop. And when Kuanjui, contrary to his words, embraces him, he stops trying. It’s been so long since someone has touched him. Since someone has cared. He buries his nose in the junction between Kuanjui’s neck and shoulders, close to his scent glands, inhaling the muted caramel scent that marks Kuanjui as a Beta. He’s always liked Kuanjui’s scent, one that would be a bit too close to a typical Omegan scent, if only it were a bit sweeter and more potent.
Hao has his own scent now, one that marks him as Omega, but he’s not sure if he wants to find out what it is. He knows he’s an Omega, but apart from during his one heat, he doesn’t feel any different. Finding out what his scent is would somehow make it feel more real, the fact that others would instantly be able to tell his subgender and would treat him differently terrifies him.
He’s not sure how long he stands there in Kuanjui’s arms, but when his tears slow and he reluctantly pulls away –interrupting Kuanjui’s soothing murmurs and removing the hand that was stroking through his hair– he feels a lot better.
“Is it really that terrible?” Kuanjui asks worriedly, “To have a foreign Omega?”
His words startle a laugh out of Hao. “No, it wouldn’t be. If only it was that simple…”
“I don’t understand.”
Hao looks at him in disbelief and sees the deep furrow of his brows, the slight pout on his lips, and the visible confusion in his eyes. Kuanjui really doesn’t know. Hao doesn’t know how he could miss the fact that his new scent has saturated the room to a sickening degree. Probably. Hao wouldn’t know for sure, no one can smell their own scent after all, but it’s what he would expect after being here for so long.
“Jui..” He says softly, “I’m not getting an Omega. I am an Omega. Can’t you tell?”
It was almost funny, watching Kuanjui’s face shift through various stages of shock. His friend was yet another person who expected him to be an Alpha, and was probably more shocked than Hao himself was (though Hao was kind of distracted at the time, being in heat and all, so maybe that’s not a good comparison).
“I thought you were wearing perfume or something!” Kuanjui eventually exclaims, “Like those months you spent wearing that awful fake Alpha scent when we were teenagers.”
“Yeah… it’s definitely not fake.” Hao says, grimacing at the memory. He really doesn’t like to remember that time, it was embarrassing.
“Huh.. Okay. Your scent is definitely nicer than the fake one you used, almost li-”
“Stop!” Hao interrupts, voice breaking as he speaks in desperation, “Please don’t say it.”
Kuanjui pauses and exhales slowly, studying him. He must have looked pathetic because Kuanjui coos at him understandingly and takes his hand, gently leading him over to the settee and making him sit. When he settles next to him, he turns to Hao and says, leaving no room for argument, “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what’s happened since I last saw you.”
And Hao does. He tells Kuanjui everything, even the parts that his parents would be scandalised that he mentioned. Kuanjui is safe, a constant presence all through his life that Hao trusts unequivocally. He doesn’t need to hide anything from him.
Kuanjui is also the only person who could understand how he feels. When they were younger, while Hao was expected to be an Alpha, Kuanjui was similarly expected to be an Omega. His soft voice and features, and gentle personality, all taken to be signs of his subgender. Unlike Hao though, his parents weren’t traditional or of high rank, and they loved Kuanjui more than they loved their status, so they never forced any lessons upon him and determined that he would only marry a mate of his choice. A very unusual decision in their society, and one Hao has always envied. Then Kuanjui presented, and while everyone was surprised, it wasn’t a big deal like Hao’s own presentation would be if word of it ever spread.
When Hao finishes speaking, Kuanjui is gripping his hand tightly. “Oh Hao...” he says sadly, “That’s so cruel of them. How could they just decide to send you away like that? Especially when you don’t even speak Hánguóyu. No,” he corrects himself, “because you don’t speak it! There must be something we can do.”
“It’s okay, Jui,” he says, gripping Kuanjui’s hands just as tightly, “I’ve always known they would arrange a marriage for me, this is just a little different. It will be fine.” If he says it enough, maybe it will be true.
“You can always run away. My parents will take you in, you know how much they love you!”
It’s a nice thought, and if Hao thought it was possible, or was any less of a dutiful son, then he wouldn’t hesitate to take Kuanjui up on his offer.
“You know that will be the first place they look for me. And Omega’s are basically property,” he says, “you would get in so much trouble when caught. I won’t put you or your parents through that.”
They fall silent after that, becoming lost in thought. Kuanjui shifts closer and presses up against Hao’s side, the contact comforting to both of them.
“You really won’t fight them, will you?” Kuanjui whispers almost inaudibly some time later, “you’re just going to accept this.”
Hao sighs softly, nodding. “I have to. I’m the reason my family’s reputation was ruined, so if this restores any of my family’s honour, then it’s the right thing to do.”
Kuanjui’s clearly disagrees, judging by the way his face pinches and the sharp glare he shoots Hao, but he says nothing, not wanting to get into that argument again. It’s probably the only thing they ever really fight about, Hao’s blind obedience to his parents. But it was the way Hao was raised and what has always been expected of him, and despite recent events, he does love his parents. Kuanjui has learned to accept how Hao feels, though he will never understand; his own parents having raised him with conflicting values to Hao’s own. Sometimes, Hao wonders how they became such close friends when they come from entirely different backgrounds. It seems almost impossible, almost like fate.
“Then you’ll just have to learn as much of the language as you can before they send you away.” Kuanjui says decisively, “It makes no sense that they want you to not communicate.”
“It’s what the Matchmaker suggested, and my mother will do whatever she says.” Hao sighs, wrinkling his nose in annoyance.
Kuanjui rolls his eyes so hard Hao is surprised they don’t fall out of his skull. “The Matchmaker is a miserable old bat who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She still thinks Omega’s can’t think for themselves! Forget what she says. I’ll bring you some books tomorrow.”
“What- You can’t!” Hao sputters, “You’ll get caught!”
Kuanjui is unconcerned. “Then you’ll just have to let me in sooner.” he says, shrugging, like he’s not risking his reputation if he’s caught, and his neck if he slips, just to bring Hao some books.
Hao stares at him, exasperated. He knows by the stubborn set of his friend's jaw that he won’t be changing his mind.
“I have no idea how to even start learning Hánguóyu though, “Kuanjui suddenly continues, “I’ll have to go to the library.” He glances at the clock, “And I’ll need to sleep if I have to stare at books all day, so I should go.” He stands and shoves his hand in front of Hao’s face, pointing at him. “I will be back tomorrow! The same time as tonight, so be ready!”
Hao meets his eyes and laughs softly. “I love you, Jui. You know that, right?”
Kuanjui’s eyes widen, before his face melts into an impossibly fond expression, “Of course.” he coos, “I love you too, A-Hao. …Platonically”
“Platonically.” Hao agrees, as is tradition, lips quirking. After one embarrassing misunderstanding when Kuanjui’s mother overheard them saying that to each other, Kuanjui has always emphasised that, yes, they consider themselves soulmates, but there is nothing romantic between them.
“You know-” Kuanjui starts before hesitating. Hao quirks an eyebrow at him and he continues, haltingly, “Just because you’re an Omega, doesn’t mean anything changes. About you, I mean. You’re still the same Hao you’ve always been to me. Alpha or Omega, you’re still you at your core. Don’t-” Kuanjui’s voice cracks and he clears his throat, “Don’t forget that, A-Hao. I don’t want to lose my best friend because they’ve tried to force you to be someone else.”
Hao feels his eyes water and pouts, trying not to cry again. He really has the best friend ever.
“Noo, don’t cry…” Kuanjui says, seeing his struggle and drawing him into a quick hug, before continuing, “I really do have to leave now though, or I’ll be here all night.”
“Mm, okay.” Hao sniffs, “be careful.”
“I’m always careful.” He responds while climbing out the window, which is the biggest lie Hao has ever heard.
Kuanjui does return the next night, with several books on basic Hánguóyu, which Hao studies diligently, hiding them at the bottom of his closet during the day. He stays awake for longer, and wakes up earlier, and even mentally reviews what he’s learned about the language during his needle craft lessons, much to the anger of his tutor who now spends the entire lesson scolding him for not paying attention.
Not long after, Kuanjui surprises him by speaking Hánguóyu himself. He had found a tutor and was learning it so he could help Hao, and because he “needs to learn the language so he can visit”. Hao cries, again. He was so so lucky to have Kuanjui.
His second heat comes and goes. It was better than the first, but not by much. Hao wasn’t given anything to help him through it, and Omegan biology was one area he had no tutors or books for. He’s not sure whether that’s intentional or not. Kuanjui comes on the second night, but when Hao fails to open the window, he realises what’s happening and leaves again.
By the time his mother finally comes to see him again, almost two months later, Hao thinks he’s learned enough Hánguóyu for simple conversation. He still has a lot more to learn, of course, but hopefully he won’t be completely unable to communicate. She finally tells him that they’ve found a match for him, and that he leaves in three days. She gives him no other details. Once again, he’s so lucky to have Kuanjui.
When he tells Kuanjui they only have three days, his friend makes a point to come every night, and stays until the sun is just cresting the horizon and the early morning birdsong begins. Hao tries to make him leave earlier, it’s extremely risky to leave that late, but Kuanjui is stubborn and just wants to spend as much time with Hao as he can. They don’t know when, or even if, they would see each other again after all.
On the final morning, the knocking on his door comes early, and Kuanjui has to slip out the window hurriedly to avoid being seen. His mother and the servant who has been attending him recently both enter, dragging a trunk behind them. His mother looks around his room and tells him to gather any personal items he wishes to bring, and Hao is surprised. He had thought that she would let him take nothing.
He doesn’t have much he can take anyway, only a few knickknacks that he had accumulated over the years and some books –among which he hides the ones Kuanjui had given him, hoping his mother wouldn’t look too closely. He wishes he still had his violin, but his mother had taken that way before he started any of his lessons, claiming that he would spend all his time with it instead of focusing on learning. When he asks about it now, she says almost the same thing. “You’ll never focus on your Alpha if I give it back. Maybe, if you’re good, he might buy you a new one.”
He’s not allowed to take any of his clothes. His mother has acquired new ones that are more suitable for Omega’s, not Alpha’s. The only reason he was allowed to wear his old ones still was because he would not be leaving his room.
“The servant will be travelling with you on the ship, but will be returning to us as soon as you land,” She tells him as she watches him board the carriage, the same one she used to hide him when they visited the Matchmaker, “Your new mate will provide you with a new one, I’m certain. And I expect you to act appropriately at all times. Do not shame us further.” She finishes, closing the carriage doors firmly as she does so.
Hao lets out a slow breath. He guesses that was the best goodbye he was going to get from his parents, not that he expected any different. He still hasn’t seen his father since he presented.
Later, when he’s standing on the deck of the small ship that would take him across the ocean, to the country he would call home for the rest of his life, he spots Kuanjui waving to him from the dock. He looks around surreptitiously for the servant, and when he’s sure they’re not looking, waves back.
He remains on the deck, watching Kuanjui and his homeland get further and further away, until they disappear completely.
He can’t imagine life without his best friend, already misses him, and he hopes his future mate will be kind enough to permit them to see each other again. It’s dangerous to hope, he knows what a lot of noble Alpha’s are like when it comes to Omega’s, but he does so anyway. It’s the only thing he can do.