After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Refuse to Get Divorced - Chapter 21.1

Inside the clothing store, Du Shiyu and Fang Ziyan finally sensed something was off. Just as they picked up the garments, Fang Ziyan grabbed Shiyu’s arm and pulled her back behind a rack. In that split second, a lens flare flashed before their eyes.

Shielded by Ziyan, Du Shiyu was completely hidden behind the potted plants and clothes hangers, leaving her out of the frame. Realizing they had been spotted, the photographer beat a hasty retreat.

Fang Ziyan smirked as she led Shiyu back out, handing the clothes to the shop staff to deliver to the school.

“That was the same high-end lens used to snap me last time. That guy really has money to burn!” Ziyan joked. “Madam Zhu, thank you for letting me bask in the glow of your high net worth.”

Shiyu could only manage a helpless, wry smile. She knew the paparazzi were getting bold; if they returned to school now, they were asking for trouble. These people never worked alone; a whole team was likely waiting further down the road to spring a trap.

So, when Fang Ziyan suggested a trip to the mall, Shiyu didn’t refuse. The mall was crowded and familiar—a perfect place to lose a tail.

As they walked, Ziyan chatted away. “To be honest, after making so much money off CEO Zhu last time, I’ve been feeling a bit guilty. I thought I’d visit one of her stores to ‘return’ some of that cash. Teacher Du, since you’re free, why don’t you help me choose? CEO Zhu has so many businesses; I’m not sure where to start.”

Shiyu smiled and made a “suit yourself” gesture. Just then, her eyes caught the scrolling LED screen in the mall, displaying a promotional poster for an event featuring He Yimo.

The little cousin is in the mall right now.

Ziyan was also staring at the ad—her gaze lingering with an intensity that suggested her interest wasn’t entirely “pure.” At that moment, Shiyu realized that Ziyan’s “whim” to go shopping might have been motivated by a specific person.

Shiyu was surprised that someone like Fang Ziyan would follow a celebrity. However, there was no denying He Yimo’s popularity. Shiyu had taught many students who spoke highly of her. After a few interactions with the girl, Shiyu’s own opinion of the “little cousin” had softened.

It wasn’t just because the “permanent lover” label had been stripped away. It was because she knew the girl shared a deep bond with Zhu Qingran; they had taken care of each other during those lonely years before Shiyu arrived. For a fleeting second, Shiyu felt a wave of gratitude toward the girl for providing Qingran with love and companionship during her own absence.

“Teacher Du? You don’t like the big star, Miss He?” Ziyan stopped, noticing Shiyu had lagged behind.

Shiyu smiled brightly. “No, I like her very much. Do you like Miss He too, Teacher Fang?”

Shiyu redirected the topic smoothly. Knowing Qingran wasn’t a gossip, Shiyu assumed she hadn’t told anyone about Ziyan’s previous admission of admiring the celebrity.

Ziyan nodded noncommittally. “Yes. I’ve never met her, but I have a very good impression of her.” She laughed self-deprecatingly, as if worried Shiyu would mistake her for a crazed fan. “Don’t misunderstand. I just feel the gap between our worlds is too large. I’ve only seen her on screen, but I find her quite captivating.”

“Is that so? Then how about I return the favor? I’ll take you to meet her.”

Shiyu stepped into the lead. She didn’t like being in someone’s debt. More importantly, she was worried about Qingran’s reaction to the paparazzi. If those photos were already circulating, was Qingran angry? If she could explain that she was simply taking a “sensible fan” to meet an idol, it might smooth things over.

Besides, the photographer had been following them for a long time. A sudden confrontation could result in injury. Shiyu didn’t want to bother Qingran with these trifles; she knew how hard the woman worked. Even after their intimate moments, Qingran would snap back into “work mode” to address product issues before gently coaxing Shiyu to sleep.

Shiyu had heard her working late several times, but she was always too exhausted to keep her eyes open. She didn’t want to be a distraction. I’m the ‘Older Sister’ here; next time, it’ll be my turn to coax her to sleep.

“Teacher Fang, to repay your kindness earlier—if you want to see Momo, keep close.”

Meanwhile, the target in question—Momo was standing in a roped-off area on the second floor, peering down at the lobby.

“Holy crap! Who is that? WHO IS THAT?”

The big star He Yimo completely abandoned her facial expressions. Her jaw nearly dropped from the second floor straight to the ground. Her eyes were glued to the “Little Wife” and the person walking beside her.

Why is my sister-in-law smiling so beautifully at that person? Look at those eyes! She’s in a great mood! AND that person is whispering in her ear! Why are they so close?

Although Yimo knew Shiyu wasn’t the type to “cheat,” her sister-in-law’s unwavering loyalty was something her “idiot cousin” could never hope to emulate in a short time. Shiyu was direct—yes was yes, no was no. She didn’t play games or stage dramas to get attention.

Only Zhu Qingran enjoyed those “CEO games.” Shiyu found them beneath her. But right now, as Qingran’s loyal cousin—the “grasshopper” sharing the same fate—Yimo felt like she was wearing a sympathetic green hat on her cousin’s behalf.

“Doudou, cover for me. My stomach feels a bit off. I think I need to ‘relieve’ myself. I’ll be right back!”

Shoving her vanity mirror into the hands of her assistant, Huang Doudou, Yimo pulled up her mask and prepared for an ambush. She wove through the crowd, hunched over to play “Random Passerby A,” stalking her sister-in-law.

The two ahead were leisurely discussing musical theory? Four-four time? Whole notes? If Yimo hadn’t graduated from an arts academy, she wouldn’t have understood a word—let alone a tech-bro like Zhu Qingran, who only knew how to hammer at a keyboard.

President Zhu was a genius at making money, but she lacked an artistic bone in her body. During family talent shows, Qingran’s performances were enough to make a rainforest turn into a glacier. While Yimo’s singing cost money, Qingran’s singing cost lives.

Thinking back on those years performing with the CEO brought Yimo nothing but pain. But that was no excuse for her sister-in-law to go looking for “artistic fulfillment” elsewhere!

Zhu Qingran might not do art, but she does feelings! She does sincerity! Little Wife, what are you up to now?

Yimo followed closely, terrified of missing a single detail. But as the distance widened, she lost the thread of the conversation.

“Sunflowers make great models for painting and photography, good color, beautiful lines.”

Yimo’s heart skipped a beat. She was practically weeping for her cousin. The Little Wife really is a cultured girl; she likes artsy Alphas, not Big Idiot Zhu.

Yimo stopped at a corner, rubbing her aching lower back from all the crouching. “I can’t take it, it hurts! Zhu Qingran, I’m sacrificing everything for your happy future! You better buy me the best pain patches money can buy!”

She muttered to herself but still didn’t message Qingran. She knew her cousin was likely pounding away at her keyboard. Her cousin was a workplace titan but a complete novice when it came to romance. Yimo, on the other hand, had read countless scripts and acted in every romantic trope imaginable. She refused to believe she couldn’t save her cousin’s marriage.

“He Yimo, charge! Take down every Alpha that might become a rival! Your little nieces are waiting for you!”

Yimo hunched over like a little shrimp and prepared to resume her tail. But when she looked up, where did they go?

The “villain dies because they talk too much” trope is real! I just mumbled a few lines and I lost them?

She stood up, looking left and right frantically. “I really lost them!”

There were dozens of cafes, restaurants, and even a hotel in this mall. Even if their hobbies were “compatible,” there was no need for such “deep communication,” surely?

Yimo felt a wave of regret. She shouldn’t have introduced that family doctor to Qingran, even for 500,000, well, okay, she could have thought about it. But now, she regretted the outcome. If the Little Wife was sore and weak from too much “sleep” with Qingran, she should be at home resting and softening her heart! Instead, the doctor had “tuned up” her sister-in-law so well that she was now running around playing hide-and-seek.

Panic set in. Yimo hurried toward the spot where they had last stood. She was too embarrassed to ask around, fearing she’d be recognized and mobbed.

The poor little cousin, her bitterness was hers alone to swallow.

Slap!

An arm landed on Yimo’s shoulder. Her entire body stiffened. Her back muscles knotted instantly, and her hands balled into fists. Was she being—?

“Mph—!”

Before she could react, she was dragged into a shadowy alcove beside a storefront. As a figure loomed over her, Yimo threw a punch out of sheer instinct.

The person in front of her clearly could have blocked the shaky blow, but Yimo felt that they looked even more terrified than she was. Her fist connected with something soft just as she recognized the face. It was too late to pull back.

BAM!

The punch wasn’t at full strength, but it was a solid seven or eight. She had thrown it with the intent of teaching a “bad guy” a lesson.

Minutes later, the trio was sitting in a consultation room at the nearest hospital.

“What’s this? Couples’ foreplay involving the face?” The doctor gave them a long, weary look.

He Yimo was currently showering the victim with a sugary-sweet, high-pitched “aegyo” voice. “Honey, are you okay? Darling, does it hurt? Sweetie, say something, don’t scare me!”

Since entering the hospital, Yimo had been clinging to the victim’s arm, looking ready to carry them upstairs for the check-up. Inside the room, she stayed glued to the victim’s side, terrified they might faint from a dizzy spell. Her cloying, “baby-talk” voice had echoed through the halls the entire way.

Unfortunately, she received no response. Like a busy little bee, she circled the victim, her goal clear: use the “apology” as an excuse to prevent her sister-in-law from having a single moment alone with the “rival.”

Yes, behind her stood Du Shiyu, her sister-in-law. And the victim in front of her was.

The “Teacher Fang” she had never met but just punched in the eye.

Yimo didn’t know her full name, only that Shiyu called her Teacher Fang. Square teacher, round teacher—it didn’t matter. Anyone trying to get close to her sister-in-law was dead meat. Yimo had already decided: once this was over, she would go to Zhu Qingran in tears and demand a massive payout. She might not have “merit” today, but she certainly had “hardship.” She had heroically fended off the CEO’s rival with a single blow.

She examined her fist, wondering if she should insure it. And if she did, Qingran was definitely paying the premium!

“Hey! Family member! Can you hear me?” The middle-aged female doctor in black-rimmed glasses raised her voice at Yimo.

“Huh? Family? Oh, she is my family, my sister-in-law! Not this one!” Yimo quickly clarified, pointing at Shiyu. My sister-in-law is my family; what does this rival have to do with me? Nothing!

“If she’s not your family, aren’t you her family? Was this an attempted divorce brawl? Or are you already divorced and—anyway, regardless of your relationship, fighting is wrong. How could you hit her in the face?”

The doctor slammed the diagnosis report on the desk, staring at Yimo. Meanwhile, Teacher Fang also looked over, her bruised, purplish eye socket aimed directly at Yimo.

“Oh Doctor, how long will it take for the mark to fade? Are there any medical restrictions? Does she need to be hospitalized? What about her brain.”

Yimo finally set aside her wild thoughts and focused on Fang Ziyan’s injury. She hadn’t realized her punch carried such power.

“Hospitalization isn’t necessary, but she needs rest and should avoid heavy mental strain. There’s a very mild concussion, but it’s nothing serious. The bruising on her face will take two or three days to fade.”

The doctor’s assessment was frank and grounded. Hearing the medical advice, Yimo fanned herself with her hand and let out a massive sigh of relief. She had been genuinely terrified; her palms were dry, but her back was soaked in cold sweat.

Through it all, she refused to take off her mask. Even though she was clearly stifling, she wouldn’t budge.

“We usually just treat the sick; we don’t resolve domestic disputes or pry into secrets,” the doctor added. “Ma’am, if you’re hot, take off the mask. We won’t call the police to report you for domestic violence.”

In the doctor’s eyes, Yimo was the classic “hit them, felt great, got to the hospital, got scared” type. Despite the lecture, Yimo kept up the “Careful, darling,” and “Honey, let me hold you,” routine, refusing to unmask.

Ziyan could see that Yimo was suffocating. Several times, she reached out, wanting to help her take the mask off—but considering Yimo’s status as a public figure, she decided against it.

“I’m fine. If Miss He has things to do, please go ahead. I don’t have many classes for the next few days, and even then, they’re mostly outdoor shoots, so I’ll be able to rest and recover properly. You don’t need to worry too much.”

After a long silence, the victim finally spoke.

Even He Yimo had to admit that Fang Ziyan had a beautiful voice. Yimo had heard countless voices in her line of work, each with its own charm, but Fang Ziyan’s was uniquely recognizable. While she had the face of a gentle “girl-next-door,” her voice was a mature, androgynous alto—steady, light, and composed. She didn’t sound like someone who had just been punched; she sounded like a wise older sister comforting a distressed child.

If Yimo hadn’t been the one at fault, she might have actually convinced herself that she was the one being bullied.

“No, no, no! I was impulsive and nearly caused a disaster. Medical bills, recovery costs, nursing fees—I’ll handle everything! I just hope you get well soon, Teacher Fang. I’m so sorry!”

With a grand wave of her hand, Yimo grabbed the bill, ready to settle up. Before leaving, she gave a deep, ninety-degree bow, her apology radiating sincerity. However, as she reached for her side, she realized her hip was suspiciously light.

“Holy crap, I forgot my bag!”

When she had first set off to stalk her sister-in-law and the “rival,” she was only thinking of a quick resolution. Who would have guessed she’d end up in a hospital needing to shell out cash?

She was penniless!

As Yimo turned a pitiful, pleading gaze toward Du Shiyu, her sister-in-law understood instantly.

“Use—”

“Use mine.”

Fang Ziyan beat them to it, holding out her wallet.

But there was no way He Yimo was using the “rival’s” money. She would rather perform street busking in the hospital lobby than take a dime from her. What if this woman turned out to be like a sticky plaster—once you let her help, you could never shake her off? If that happened, her heroic “financial sacrifice” to save her sister-in-law would be for nothing.

Absolutely not!

“My wallet is on its way, don’t panic! I’m paying for this!”

In her time, Yimo had treated plenty of people; she was famously generous with film crews. But here in a hospital, she was acting like she was at a restaurant: This round is on me, you get the next one.

Shiyu couldn’t help it; she turned away to hide her laughter. Even the victim, Fang Ziyan, was stunned. Since Yimo was so insistent on paying, she stopped trying to fight for the bill.

After badgering her assistant, Huang Doudou, over the phone, Yimo finally got a call back.

“Doudou! Where are you? Quick, I need you! Go to the payment window and wait for me.”

“HE YIMO! Where are you? Is my wife hurt? How did it happen? Where did you find her? Where is she injured? Get her to the ER immediately! You cannot let anything happen to her!”

Zhu Qingran’s frantic voice exploded through the receiver, nearly shattering Yimo’s eardrum.

The Great Idiot Cousin has arrived.

“Zhu Qingran, calm down! CALM DOWN! Listen to me, you need to do exactly as I say!” Yimo cleared her throat, a plan forming in her mind. She decided right then and there to let her cousin foot the bill.

“Okay, speak. No matter what happens, I can take it! As long as she’s alive, I believe in miracles! I’ve mentally prepared myself. Tell me!” Qingran’s voice trembled with a forced, tragic strength.