After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Was Spoiled by a Sweet Omega - Chapter 65

Qu Ran reclined in a bamboo rocking chair, reading.

She wore a simple white dress, her long hair loose and tousled by the wind, strands clinging to her cheeks—an image of fragile, disheveled beauty.

“I’m hungry.”

Her voice was carried away by the breeze.

No reply came.

Only then did she remember, he had left.

Gone. And perhaps that was for the best.

Everyone leaves eventually.

Tired, she closed her eyes, covering her face with the book.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the willow branches.

“Baa, baa.”

A sheep had escaped the pen, circling around her.

She opened her eyes, stood, and placed the book back on the chair.

Its title: My Shepherd’s Diary.

On the cover band, a line of bold red text read: It is not I who shepherd alone, but the sheep who heal my solitude.

The wind rustled the pages.

Qu Ran opened the gate, letting the flock spill out joyfully.

They already knew where to graze.

She simply followed behind.

The mountains were lush, the world serene.

Yu Yazhi’s taxi wound its way toward Dafu Village.

By the time she arrived, it was past four in the afternoon.

The mountain road twisted sharply. At the village signpost, the car could go no further.

She paid the fare, got out, and continued on foot.

There were only a handful of households scattered across the hills.

After asking directions along the way, she finally reached Qu Ran’s home.

It was beautiful—encircled by willows, their branches swaying like dancers, as if welcoming her.

Beyond the curtain of green was a small fence gate. Around it bloomed nameless flowers—red, yellow, white, pink—bursting from the leaves in vibrant life.

Butterflies hovered in the blossoms, forming, from a distance, the shape of a heart.

Astonished, Yu Yazhi stepped closer and realized it was a clever arrangement of flowers that guided the butterflies into that pattern.

Such artistry!

The house itself was modest, a red-brick cottage, its walls covered in climbing ivy.

It looked like something out of a fairytale forest.

No wonder Yu Jiayan had been so enchanted.

Even the atmosphere of this life spoke volumes, the girl clearly had something special.

“Baa, baa.”

The bleating of sheep drew her gaze.

She turned to see a flock of white sheep, and at the rear, a small, delicate figure.

Yu Yazhi froze.

That face, it was Zhong Qiu!

What was she doing here?

Wait, could this be the “Qu Ran” Jiayan spoke of?

“Who are you looking for?”

Qu Ran regarded the stranger at her gate.

The woman wore a long white shirt over slim black pants, white sneakers on her feet. Her aura was clean, elegant—an urban sophisticate.

But Qu Ran didn’t know her.

Yu Yazhi studied her in return: a tiny face, pale yet exquisitely delicate even without makeup, dressed in a simple white dress, long hair cascading down, fragile as if a breath could topple her.

Her eyes weren’t cold or aloof, but calm, like a still spring.

Strange.

Was this Zhong Qiu’s split persona?

Yu Yazhi asked aloud:
“Hello, I’m Yu Yazhi. Are you Qu Ran?”

Qu Ran nodded silently, herding the sheep back toward the pen.

Yu Yazhi followed, speaking as they walked:
“I’m Yu Jiayan’s sister. Do you know him?”

Qu Ran nodded again, but said nothing.

Compared to Zhong Qiu, this Qu Ran was far more reserved.

Yu Yazhi pressed:
“Don’t you wonder why I came to find you?”

Qu Ran finally spoke.

“I’m hungry.”

She hadn’t eaten all day.

Too lazy to cook, she only made food when hunger forced her.

Since Jiayan had arrived, he had taken over the cooking. Even if his plain boiled noodles were terrible, she never complained.

Food didn’t interest her, she only ate to fill her stomach.

After being fed by Jiayan for several days, she had grown even lazier, unwilling to cook at all.

Yu Yazhi, unaware of this, was baffled. Hungry? What does that have to do with me? Does she expect me to cook?

As she wondered, Qu Ran asked earnestly:
“Can you cook for me? Or did Jiayan send you to cook for me?”

Her eyes and tone were utterly serious.

Yu Yazhi: “…”

She hadn’t come here to cook!

But after a day of travel, she was hungry too.

“Fine,” she conceded.

“I’ll cook for you.”

Better to eat first, then talk.

Qu Ran led her inside, opening the gate and guiding her to the kitchen.

Inside, there was only rice, flour, and salt.

Yu Yazhi was stunned.

“Are you serious? Just these?”

Qu Ran nodded.

“It’s simple. Boil water, add noodles. Sprinkle some salt.”

Yu Yazhi: “…”

So, this was the life Jiayan had been living?

Love makes water taste sweet.

Had he really found true love here?

“I’m hungry,” Qu Ran reminded, rubbing her stomach.

“Can you hurry?”

Resigned, Yu Yazhi scrubbed the pot, boiled water, cooked noodles, and added salt.

She served a bowl to Qu Ran, who immediately began eating.

Though she claimed hunger, she ate slowly, savoring each bite as if it was a delicacy.

Yu Yazhi, skeptical, served herself a bowl. After one mouthful, she lost all appetite.

Raised in comfort, she couldn’t stomach such plain fare.

Qu Ran noticed her disdainful look. In her usual sparse words, she commented:
“Delicacies are born of hunger.”

Yu Yazhi: “…”

This woman’s shift into another persona wasn’t particularly endearing.

Yu Yazhi set down her chopsticks, watching her eat noodles while her mind raced. Clearly, Zhong Qiu had splintered into another personality, hiding away in this mountain village and Shang Li had no idea.

Should she tell her?

But if she did, Shang Li would surely come. And then what about Yu Jiayan?

She had come to see Qu Ran. If the girl proved decent, she might even bring her back to Shenzhen.

Considering Qu Ran’s other identity—Zhong Qiu’s status, their father would have no objection to the marriage.

But Shang Li? Shang Li was still searching for Zhong Qiu.

Caught between a friend and her foolish younger brother, Yu Yazhi was torn.

Qu Ran finished her noodles.

Setting down her chopsticks, she asked sincerely:
“Can you wash the bowls? Maybe the pot too.”

Yu Yazhi: “…”

Was this persona naturally bossy? How did she order people around so casually?

She couldn’t help asking:
“Does Yu Jiayan do this too?”

Qu Ran nodded.

“He’s very eager. Seems like someone who takes care of others. Though, he doesn’t look very bright.”

Yu Yazhi found the latter comment accurate enough. As for the former? Well, tastes differ.

“Do you like Yu Jiayan?”

That was the real question.

Qu Ran thought for a moment.

“If he wasn’t so noisy, maybe he wouldn’t be unpleasant.”

Yu Yazhi: “…”

That wasn’t even close to liking him.

Her brother was pitifully humble. No wonder he’d spoken of “snatching her back.” It was all one-sided.

“I think you have a little fondness for him.”

Yu Yazhi decided to reveal her purpose.

“He went home, shouting about marrying you, even wanted our parents to propose. They refused and locked him up. He’s worried about you, says your health is poor, so he asked me to check on you. Do you want to see him? I can take you.”

Qu Ran had already guessed her intent. She shook her head.

“He’s mistaken. I don’t feel romantic love for him. If I did, I wouldn’t have let him leave. And even if I did love him, I wouldn’t leave here.”

Yu Yazhi had expected this answer. Inwardly, she lit a candle for her brother and changed the subject.

“Do you know Zhong Qiu?”

It was said that in severe cases of dissociative identity disorder, personalities could sense one another.

Sure enough, at the name Zhong Qiu, Qu Ran’s expression shifted.

But she said:
“I don’t know her.”

“You do.”

Yu Yazhi’s tone was firm.

“You know she exists. You must also know you’re the secondary persona. Did you seize her body?”

She knew personalities could battle. Sometimes the primary was too weak and the secondary took over permanently.

But Qu Ran didn’t seem aggressive or domineering.

Yu Yazhi wondered aloud:
“A peaceful handover?”

Qu Ran stayed silent.

After a pause, she said instead:
“Could you wash the dishes first?”

Yu Yazhi: “…”

She realized Qu Ran wouldn’t answer unless she did.

“Fine.”

She washed the bowls and pot, glancing back at Qu Ran, who sat at the table, head bowed, lost in thought.

Two bowls, one pot—easy enough.

Soon she sat across from her again.

Qu Ran kept her head down, silent.

Her slender fingers traced patterns on the table, as if writing Zhong Qiu’s name.

Yu Yazhi watched, waiting patiently.

Dusk fell.

Finally, Qu Ran spoke.

“She’s a coward.”

Her voice carried emotion now—part mockery, part pity.

Yu Yazhi asked:
“Why do you say that?”

Qu Ran fell silent again.

Unable to explain, she rose, went to the bedroom, and returned with a phone.

She powered it on, opened the messages, and handed it over.

[Qu Ran, when I closed my eyes, it felt like I saw you standing there, bathed in the dawn’s light.]

A short line, dated six months ago.

Yu Yazhi pondered its meaning. She realized: this was Zhong Qiu’s choice. She had treated Qu Ran as her rebirth.

Which meant—Zhong Qiu had abandoned herself.

“What happened to her?”

Yu Yazhi couldn’t understand. Once so desperate for success, willing to risk suicide to force investment, how could she give up on herself after achieving it?

Qu Ran remained silent.

She didn’t want to speak of Zhong Qiu, because it reminded her she was only a construct, created to escape reality.

“It’s dark.”

Qu Ran looked outside. The mountains lay in endless black.

“Woof! Woof! Woof.”

Dogs barking shattered the silence.

Yu Yazhi, lost in thought, snapped back.

She held the phone, scrolling through contacts, torn—should she tell Shang Li? Zhong Qiu was gone. The Qu Ran before her might not even remember her. Even Zhong Qiu might not have liked her. And now she was entangled with Yu Jiayan.

Perhaps Shang Li should never know.

Just then—

♪ Folding all the springs into one morning,
Turning all the endless words into secrets, closing the door. ♪

Zhong Qiu’s ringtone rang out.

Yu Yazhi glanced at the caller ID. Heaven help her—of course, it was Shang Li.

Qu Ran, who had always kept Zhong Qiu’s phone off, was startled. She had just powered it on, and immediately a call came.

She looked bewildered.

“Who is this? Just now, why did my heart seem to skip?”