After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Was Spoiled by a Sweet Omega - Chapter 66

“Not going to answer?”

Yu Yazhi studied Qu Ran’s face, analyzing the subtle shifts in her expression.

Qu Ran calmly hung up the phone.

“People Zhong Qiu knew, there’s no need to keep in touch.”

Yu Yazhi thought for a moment, then said:
“She’s worried about you—no, about Zhong Qiu. She’s been searching for her. I think you should at least let her know you’re safe.”

Qu Ran remained unmoved.

“You’ll tell her, won’t you?”

She was perceptive, quick to see that Yu Yazhi and this Shang Li shared a close bond.

Privately, Yu Yazhi had no desire to pass along Zhong Qiu’s situation to Shang Li.

Resting her forehead against her hand, she murmured:
“It’s complicated right now.”

Qu Ran gave a faint smile, said nothing more, and rose from her seat.

The phone on the table rang again—Shang Li calling once more.

Yu Yazhi glanced at the glowing screen, ignored it, and walked outside.

In the courtyard, Qu Ran drew water from the well, washed up simply, then returned to her bedroom.

Yu Yazhi followed quietly. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a weak bulb that flickered faintly.

“Qu Ran, you’re still young. Do you really want to waste away here like a salted fish?”

She couldn’t stand it. Ambitious as she was, she couldn’t accept such a life philosophy—Qu Ran lived too aimlessly, like an old tree rotting away. Life shouldn’t be like this.

Qu Ran didn’t respond. Her breathing was shallow, as if she had already fallen asleep.

Yu Yazhi knew she was refusing to engage, so she let it go.

She stepped back out, saw the phone still ringing, hesitated, then picked it up and answered.

“Zhong Qiu, is that you?”

Shang Li’s voice burst through, excited and joyful.

“It’s me.”

Yu Yazhi spoke plainly:
“I’m in Nanshan, Dafu Village. I’ve seen Zhong Qiu. She’s living in seclusion here.”

She knew Jiayan lacked the ability to change Qu Ran, and as Zhong Qiu’s friend, she couldn’t bear to watch her live like this.

Qu Ran was ill.

Alone in this mountain village, just as Jiayan had said, this wasn’t sustainable.

“Come. I’ll send you the location.”

Using Zhong Qiu’s phone, Yu Yazhi sent the address.

Shang Li thanked her profusely, reluctant to hang up, asking again and again:
“How is she? Why won’t she answer?”

Yu Yazhi didn’t reply directly.

“You’ll see when you arrive.”

“Alright. Thank you. Truly, thank you.”

“Mm.”

She ended the call, set the phone down, and went to wash up.

The well water was cool and sweet, but she didn’t dare drink it, afraid of parasites.

After a simple wash, she found Jiayan’s lodging and lay down to rest.

Thinking of Jiayan, his call came through.

He had been calling all day, but she had ignored them. Now, with nothing else pressing, she answered.

His voice was breathless with excitement:
“Jie, my good sister, you finally picked up!”

Yu Yazhi’s head throbbed at his chatter. She cut him off coldly:
“Spare me the nonsense.”

Chastened, he rushed to the point:
“Jie, you’ve seen my Ranran, right? Isn’t she an ethereal fairy untouched by the mortal world? Don’t scare her with that frosty face of yours!”

Yu Yazhi found it all drivel.

“Get to the point.”

Frightened she might hang up again, Jiayan blurted:
“Okay, okay! How is Ranran? Did she agree to come back with you?”

Yu Yazhi answered flatly:
“No. Give it up. She’s not interested in you.”

Jiayan had expected this, but wasn’t crushed.

“I know. But persistence wins the maiden’s heart! She’s just a lonely girl, fragile and delicate, and you’re so, uh, strong.”

Yu Yazhi frowned.

“Strong? You mean brutish?”

Jiayan panicked.

“No, no! Wrong phrase. You’re heroic, dazzling! You could conquer her with one hand. So just use a little force, bring her back. Once she’s here, I’ll coax her. Ranran’s temper is so gentle, she’ll understand.”

Yu Yazhi was appalled.

“You realize you’re inciting a crime?”

For that alone, she would never indulge him.

Better to let Shang Li handle this.

Her brother was hopeless.

With that thought, she hung up.

He called again, she hung up.

Finally, fed up, she blocked his number.

Peace at last.

But the room was stifling. Sweat clung to her, her mood restless.

♪ Spellbound, enchanted by you, spellbound. ♪

It was Ning Xuan’s call.

She had set a special ringtone for her.

At the sound, the heat seemed to fade, her heart settling.

“Mm. It’s me. You finally remembered to check in. Busy all this time?”

“Yes.”

Ning Xuan’s voice was warm as she reported her day:

“Arrived at the set at nine-thirty, settled in, opening ceremony at ten. Spent the rest of the day studying the script. Just finished. Filming starts tomorrow. Expected to last three months.”

Yu Yazhi listened intently.

“Can you handle it?”

Ning Xuan laughed.

“Why does everyone ask that? I’ve been asked so many times today I’m numb. Do I really look that delicate?”

Film queen Jin Min, superstar Xin Lie, director He Sheng, screenwriter Xu Ci—even Xu Ke, a junior—all had asked.

Yu Yazhi, unaware of the context, pressed:
“Who exactly asked you?”

Ning Xuan didn’t think it mattered.

“Just the crew. Director, screenwriter, some actors.”

Yu Yazhi wasn’t satisfied.

“Which actors?”

She worried about dangerous rivals, like Jin Min.

Ning Xuan, oblivious to her jealousy, answered honestly, even praising:
“Film queen Jin Min. She’s wonderful—beautiful, gentle, and incredibly skilled.”

During script study, Jin Min had improvised scenes, sparking insights for the director and writer.

Her performance was so natural, every gesture alive with character.

Ning Xuan admired her deeply.

Yu Yazhi, however, was jealous.

“You’re good at compliments. Funny, I’ve never heard you praise me.”

She voiced her envy directly.

Ning Xuan caught on quickly, showering her with flattery:
“Do I need to? Your excellence, your talent, your brilliance—it’s all obvious. You’re perfect. You are perfection itself.”

Yu Yazhi blushed, embarrassed.

“Where did you learn such sweet talk?”

Ning Xuan said sincerely:
“Do I need to learn this? It comes straight from the heart.”

Yu Yazhi was delighted.

“Then give me a few more heartfelt lines.”

She was hooked.

Ning Xuan obliged, whispering sweet words for half an hour before finally hanging up.

The next morning, before dawn, Yu Yazhi was jolted awake by her phone.

The caller ID showed Shang Li. It was only a little past four in the morning. Irritated, she answered:

“Don’t tell me you’ve already arrived.”

She had no desire to fetch anyone at this hour.

But Shang Li had indeed arrived.

Standing at the entrance to Dafu Village, by the village signpost, she stared at the endless mountains, unsure where to go, and so she called Yu Yazhi.

Recognizing her urgency, Yu Yazhi forced down her temper.

“Wait there. By the way, did you drive or take a taxi?”

She disliked the rustic inconvenience of the village and was already thinking of hitching a ride out.

“I drove,” Shang Li replied.

Yu Yazhi switched on the light, packing her things as she said:
“The road doesn’t allow cars in. Lend me yours, I’ll drive it back to the martial arts hall.”

Coincidentally, Ning Xuan was filming nearby in Hengzhuang. She could see her too.

Shang Li agreed without hesitation.

“Alright.”

Yu Yazhi hung up, finished packing, and knocked on Qu Ran’s bedroom door.

“Hey, Qu Ran, wake up. I need to leave urgently. It’s too dark, can you walk me out?”

It was a harmless lie. She wanted them to meet sooner. Shang Li would surely be grateful.

Qu Ran, roused from sleep, opened the door and said flatly:
“Do you know that 4:48 a.m. is the time when suicides are most likely to occur? And you woke me at that exact moment.”

“Believe me, I woke you for anything but suicide.”

Seeing her drowsy face, Yu Yazhi pushed her into the courtyard, splashed cold water, and washed her face.

Qu Ran was fully awake now.

She changed clothes, picked up a flashlight, and lit the path ahead.

The mountain trail was rugged, insects chirping in the night.

They walked beneath the stars in silence.

Yu Yazhi, unused to the quiet, tried to make conversation.

“You really like it here?”

Everything was inconvenient—remote, backward, shabby—as if civilization had skipped this place entirely. How could she have adapted to it?

Qu Ran didn’t answer. She was always reticent, and to her, the question was meaningless.

Yu Yazhi pressed on.

“Zhong Qiu has plenty of money. Didn’t she tell you? You could live differently.”

With wealth, leisure, and her beauty, love would come easily—especially with Shang Li, loyal as a hound.

She could live brilliantly, happily, fulfilled.

Qu Ran listened to the chatter, finding her no different from Yu Jiayan. Truly siblings, neither could keep quiet.

To silence her, she finally spoke:
“I believe there’s only one kind of success, living life the way you want.”

Yu Yazhi: “…”

That philosophy, that breadth of mind, left her speechless.

After a long pause, she managed:
“And your chosen way is to rot in this mountain hollow like a salted fish?”

Qu Ran countered:
“Why not?”

She recalled a line from My Shepherd’s Diary:
“I have my sheep, I ask for nothing else. Whatever happens in the world, but really, is anything happening at all?”

There was nothing new under the sun.

Here, she had found life and freedom.

Yu Yazhi realized she couldn’t win this argument.

This woman had perfected the art of being a salted fish.

They walked on in silence.

The dawn slowly tore apart the darkness.

Light spread across the sky.

A breeze stirred the leaves, a bird flapped upward into the air.

“Chirp, chirp.”

Birds sang in the forest.

“Rustle, rustle.”

A few gray rabbits darted through the grass.

Everything was free, alive, and lovely.

Qu Ran brushed her hand against the leaves, closed her eyes, and breathed in the scent of nature.

The wind tangled her hair.

She bent to sniff a flower, her features pure, almost like a woodland fairy.

But fairies must descend to the mortal world.

When she saw Shang Li, it was as if a heavy blow struck her mind. Pain furrowed her brow, bent her body slightly.

“Zhong Qiu!”

Shang Li spotted her from afar, joy flooding her eyes as she ran forward.

Qu Ran clutched her aching head, stepped back, and her gaze turned sharp with rejection.

“Don’t come closer.”