After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Was Spoiled by a Sweet Omega - Chapter 52

Qu Ran heard the commotion and strolled over at her usual languid pace. She found Yu Jiayan sitting on the grass, bruised and battered, looking pitiful—like a big dog begging for affection.

Anyone else would have softened.

But Qu Ran remained indifferent, her expression detached and world-weary. She uttered four flat words:

“I faint at blood.”

Yu Jiayan: “Huh? Faint at blood?”

He immediately covered his injured face and said quickly:
“Then don’t come near. Stay back. I’m fine.”

Without another word, Qu Ran turned and walked away.

She returned to the shade of the tree.

Above her, dense leaves rustled.

Beside her, a sheep bleated softly as it grazed.

She simply watched, finding even the sight of sheep eating grass oddly entertaining.

Meanwhile, Ning Xuan had dealt with Zhu Shanshan, changed clothes, and gone to the training hall.

As usual, Shang Li instructed her in new moves.

By the afternoon, Zhu Shanshan had had enough. After three days, she and Liu Zi left the martial arts hall.

Her arrival had been dramatic, but her departure was quiet.

Ning Xuan only realized she was gone when she returned to her room that evening and found it empty.

With the nuisance gone and Yu Yazhi no longer disturbing her sleep, Ning Xuan finally slept soundly.

The next day, she studied with renewed vigor.

Fueled by determination, she trained like she was on adrenaline. In just four days, despite eating plenty, she slimmed down—lean and toned.

Seven days later, it was time for Ning Xuan to return to Shenzhen.

Shang Li and Ding Jie organized a farewell party for her at a bar.

The night was lively.

After a few drinks, Ning Xuan couldn’t resist her curiosity.

“Master Shang, why haven’t I ever seen your partner?”

Shang Li’s expression shifted, but she quickly recovered.

“Don’t listen to President Yu’s nonsense.”

“Hehe, Master Shang, you’re hiding something.”

“I think you and President Yu are hiding something too.”

Shang Li deftly changed the subject.

“Has President Yu contacted you these days?”

Ning Xuan fell silent.

Yu Yazhi had reached out—morning greetings, evening goodnights but nothing more.

It was exactly the safe, comfortable distance Ning Xuan wanted, though sometimes it left her feeling strangely empty.

Seeing her troubled, Shang Li said:
“President Yu is a good person. Don’t miss the one right in front of you.”

Ning Xuan didn’t want to dwell on it. She redirected.

“Master Shang, what about you? At your age, shouldn’t you be dating?”

Shang Li acted as if she hadn’t heard, turning to the bartender instead.

She ordered a whiskey, downed it in a few gulps.

The bar’s dim lights glowed, but her eyes shimmered with moisture, almost tearful.

Ning Xuan dared not press further. She sipped her drink quietly.

Ding Jie pulled her onto the dance floor.

This bar in Hengzhuang was popular among celebrities seeking relaxation, with strict privacy, no paparazzi to worry about.

Ning Xuan, under pressure, joined the crowd, raising her arms and dancing.

Gradually, the music shifted:
“Head over heels,
Obsessed with you, head over heels,
You crushed my antidote beneath your feet,
It doesn’t matter,
Please just give a kiss.”

The song made people want to fall in love instantly.

Couples embraced and kissed.

The crowd was wild with passion.

But amid the frenzy, Ning Xuan felt a crushing loneliness.

She slipped off the stage, returned to the bar, and ordered a cocktail, sitting beside Shang Li.

Shang Li had drunk heavily; her eyes were glazed.

Suddenly, she stood and shouted toward the singer in the dark:
“Change the song! Change it!”

Of course, the music didn’t change.

Her voice was drowned in the noise, though some people glanced over—curious, annoyed.

Ning Xuan quickly covered her mouth.

“Master Shang, you’re drunk.”

Shang Li regained a bit of clarity, brushed her hand away, and rubbed her forehead.

“Mm. Maybe a little. Let’s call it a night.”

She pulled out her wallet, took out a bank card to pay.

Thud.

The wallet fell to the floor.

Ning Xuan picked it up. By chance, she glimpsed a photo inside.

It was a candid shot of a woman’s profile. Though partially obscured, her delicate features were clear—small face, straight bangs, eyes dark as ink, a mix of fragility and determination.

So, this is Master Shang’s beloved?

So gentle. So beautiful.

Before she could look closer, Shang Li snatched the wallet, shoved the card back in, and strode out without a word.

Ning Xuan hurried after her, whispering:
“Sorry, Master Shang, I didn’t mean to look.”

Shang Li paused, glanced back, but said nothing.

It was all in the past.

Perhaps the woman had moved on, begun a new life.

And Shang Li was still stuck, unable to let go.

“Ning Xuan.”

She looked into Ning Xuan’s concerned eyes. For a moment, she wanted to share her story. But instead, she asked:
“Where’s Ding Jie?”

Ding Jie was still dancing.

Young, beautiful, brimming with energy, she moved like a blazing sun.

Her vitality drew more and more people to join her.

But among them, some men took advantage. Pretty girls were groped—chests grabbed, hips touched.

Faces flushed with shame and anger, they tried to leave, but the men blocked their way, pressing closer under cover of the crowd.

“Damn it! Trash! Bastards!”

Ding Jie saw it. Unable to hold back, she kicked one of them off the stage.

Bang!

The man, overweight with garish dyed hair, had a face covered in red and black pimples. As his muscles twitched in rage, the blemishes seemed to crawl grotesquely across his skin.

It was horrifying.

“You bitch!”

He scrambled up, shouting furiously.

“How dare you hit me?”

Ding Jie stood tall on stage, glaring down coldly.

“You know exactly what disgusting thing you did.”

But the man felt no shame, only spewed filth.

“They dress like sluts, begging for it, now they act all high and mighty!”

Ding Jie: “…”

She was stunned by such twisted logic. What kind of scum is this?

Too infuriating!

She leapt off the stage and kicked him.

“What they wear is no excuse for your filthy hands!”

The man had just stood up when her foot struck his knee, sending him clutching his leg in pain.

“Damn it! Never seen anyone this wild—boys, grab her!”

He had swaggered around this bar for years, but being humiliated by a young girl tonight was something he couldn’t swallow.

A few of his cronies immediately closed in.

Ding Jie had some martial arts training and was agile. Unable to overpower them, she darted through the crowd, weaving in and out.

Suddenly, her hair was yanked.

Shang Li had grabbed her, dragging her out of the bar.

“Bold of you, causing trouble alone in a bar?”

Ding Jie didn’t argue, quickly admitting fault.

“Master Shang, I was wrong. I won’t dare again!”

She glanced at Ning Xuan beside them, eyes pleading: Ning Bao, say something for me.

Ning Xuan received the silent plea but sided with Shang Li.

“Ding Jie, you really were impulsive this time. There were so many of them, and you’re just one girl.”

If something had gone wrong, regret would have been too late.

Ding Jie was confident she could have escaped unharmed, but Shang Li’s authority was absolute. She dared not protest further, only repeated:

“I was wrong. Master Shang, I’ll think twice next time.”

Though in truth, even after thinking twice, she would still act.

Shang Li knew her hot-blooded nature well and could guess her thoughts. She said coldly:
“Tomorrow, two extra hours of training. With that little skill, you dare play the hero?”

Ding Jie: “…”

In reality, martial arts had little to do with heroics. Heroism was about character.

But she kept her thoughts to herself.

The three took a taxi back to Dali Martial Arts Hall.

After a week together, they had become both teacher and friends, forging a deep bond.

Knowing they would part tomorrow, they gathered in Ning Xuan’s room for a late-night chat.

The conversation turned to love.

At night, hearts opened more easily.

Shang Li said:

“Don’t listen to President Yu. What does she know? In her eyes, there’s only money. Well, not quite. Now she has you in her eyes too.”

Ning Xuan sat on the carpet, elbow propped on the coffee table, chin resting in her hand, quietly listening.

Ding Jie lay nearby, half-asleep.

Three wine glasses sat on the table, two already empty.

Shang Li poured herself another, drained it in a few gulps, and continued:
“As for me and Zhong Qiu, really, it’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

But in truth, it was one-sided affection—she had loved, and been rejected.

Listening, Ning Xuan felt she wasn’t being honest. Nothing? This was clearly unforgettable, carved into her heart.

Suddenly, she remembered Yu Yazhi saying Zhong Qiu had dissociative identity disorder and was still in treatment. She guessed:

“Yu Yazhi said Zhong Qiu was ill. Did she reject you because of that?”

Shang Li: “…”

Her hand paused mid-pour. She looked up.

“Who told you I was rejected?”

Ning Xuan’s innocent eyes blinked.

“Weren’t you?”

Shang Li: “…”

Caught.

She said nothing, just gulped down more wine, as if it was water.

Ning Xuan didn’t stop her. She even hoped Shang Li would get drunk, then maybe she’d spill more secrets.

So, she pressed:

“If not because of illness, then why? You’re wonderful, why wouldn’t she like you?”

Shang Li’s confidence faltered. She asked quickly:
“Am I really wonderful? Do you like me?”

Ning Xuan: “…”

Oh god, how do I answer that?

Her silence wounded Shang Li.

“See? You don’t like me either.”

Ning Xuan whispered:

“Of course I like you. But not romantically, like a friend.”

Shang Li nodded, melancholy.

“Liking someone is hard. At my age, it’s nearly impossible to give your whole heart again.”

She felt that after Zhong Qiu, she had lost the ability to love.

Ning Xuan, unaware of their past, tried to comfort her.

“Master Shang, if she isn’t married, you still have a chance. Persistence wins, just keep pursuing her.”

“Right, right! Pursue, pursue, pursue!”

Ding Jie suddenly mumbled in her sleep.

The two glanced at her, saw she was still sprawled out, and assumed it was just dream talk.

Ning Xuan continued earnestly:
“I mean it. If you love her, don’t give up. Especially now, when she’s sick—she needs you.”

Shang Li sighed heavily.

“You don’t understand.”

She had tried caring for Zhong Qiu during her illness, but it only worsened things. Zhong Qiu rejected her, recoiled as if she carried contagion.

Ning Xuan, frustrated by her vague words, grew impatient.

“How do I not understand? If I don’t, then explain! Stop beating around the bush!”

She hadn’t expected the usually decisive Shang Li to be so hesitant in love.

It made her bristle. Her tone sharpened.

“Forgive me for being blunt, Master Shang, but aside from death, all separations in love come from not loving enough. Maybe you don’t love Miss Zhong as much as you think.”

“Exactly!”

Ding Jie suddenly raised her head, drunken eyes squinting, finger pointing at Shang Li. Slurring, she said:

“You don’t love her enough. If you did, you’d chase her! If chasing failed, you’d drug her! If drugs failed, you’d force her! Worst case, you’d go to jail. If you won’t even risk prison, don’t talk about love!”

Ning Xuan: “!!!”

What the hell?

What kind of twisted worldview is that?