After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Was Spoiled by a Sweet Omega - Chapter 83

“What the hell? I heard you went to accompany Ning Xuan on her film set, did you lose your mind making movies?”

Yu Jiayan’s first instinct was that Yu Yazhi had gone crazy. To him, her words were nothing more than alarmist nonsense.

How could Qu Ran have a split personality? Her personality seemed perfectly stable to him.

“If you don’t believe me, go ask her yourself,” Yu Yazhi replied.

“Ask my ass! You might be stupid, but I’m not!”

He had lived a life of peace and luxury, never having encountered true suffering or deep-seated trauma. To him, “Dissociative Identity Disorder” was a term that felt incredibly distant—a concept that existed only in textbooks or movies, far removed from his world. It was just a word.

“Is there anything else? If not, I’m hanging up.”

“Yu Jiayan, stop lying to yourself. I don’t want to see you sinking deeper into this or wasting your heart on something that can’t be.”

Her phrasing made it sound like he was just playing house.

A surge of anger rose in Yu Jiayan, feeling as though his sincerity was being belittled. He roared, “I’ve already given her my heart! You still don’t believe me? Am I really that bored? Would I stay in this godforsaken corner of the world for a woman I didn’t love?”

He was a pampered young master who had always had everything his way. If it weren’t out of genuine love, why would he suffer the hardships of staying here?

“I. I.”

For the first time in her life, Yu Yazhi was at a loss for words. Looking at it as an outsider and knowing his history, she had been prejudiced—assuming Yu Jiayan was incapable of true sincerity.

But how could someone without sincerity stay in a place like this? Even if he were just lusting after her beauty, he should have made a move by now. But he hadn’t. He simply stayed by her side, expressing his feelings over and over again.

“I’m hanging up.” Seeing her silence, Yu Jiayan ended the call.

His shin, where Qu Ran had kicked him, still throbbed.

Qu Ran has a split personality?

Despite his denial, the thought had taken root in the back of his mind. Should I go ask?

Yu Jiayan stood up indecisively. When he looked up, he met Ding Jie’s wide, blinking eyes. He stumbled back in fright. “Wh-what are you doing!”

Ding Jie crossed her arms. “Watching an idiot.”

It was obvious who the “idiot” was.

Yu Jiayan shot her a glare but wasn’t in the mood to argue. His mind was entirely occupied by the idea of Qu Ran’s condition. Should I ask? If I ask, doesn’t that mean I believe it?

“What’s on your mind?” Ding Jie asked, curious about his rapidly changing expressions.

Yu Jiayan ignored her and ran to Qu Ran’s door, knocking loudly. Thud, thud, thud.

“Ranran, I need to talk to you. Ranran, open up.”

No response.

He kept knocking and calling out, “Ranran, open the door. I have something to ask you. Really.”

The door opened. Qu Ran looked up, gazing at him quietly. She had clearly been about to sleep; she was wearing a simple white nightgown with wide ruffled hems and lantern sleeves. The loose fit made her thin frame look even more petite and delicate. Her thick, dark hair was draped over her shoulders, making her small face look even tinier and giving her an air of innocent vulnerability.

This is Qu Ran! The living, breathing, lovely Qu Ran!

Who cared about “Zhong Qiu”? Or a “sub-personality”? What a joke! How could a sub-personality be this wonderful?

Suddenly, Yu Jiayan didn’t want to ask anymore.

“Ranran, I know you like it here.” He came up with a better suggestion on the fly. “How about we take the helicopter tomorrow and get a bird’s-eye view of the scenery?”

Upon hearing this, Qu Ran actually looked interested. “Okay.”

She truly did want to see the landscape from above, as she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to stay.

Yu Jiayan had only said it on a whim. After all, having knocked on her door, he had to say something to avoid getting kicked again for the interruption. He hadn’t expected her to agree. Overjoyed, he hugged her on the spot. “Ranran, thank you! You’re so good to me! You’re the best!”

Qu Ran: “…”

She detested physical contact and immediately raised her voice. “Let go.”

Knowing when to quit, Yu Jiayan instantly released her and stepped back. Qu Ran had agreed to go sightseeing with him! That was enough to make him ecstatic.

“Then it’s a promise. Pinky swear?”

His only response was the bang of the door closing in his face. Even so, he shouted happily, “Ranran, you’re the best! I love you more and more every day! No matter who you are, I love you. Only you.”

Qu Ran did not respond. She lay back on the bed, picked up the notebook she had just set down, and continued writing:

Do not look forward, and do not look back. Stand firm in the present. What we call ‘time’ is simply our current breath, our current life. We should be wholehearted in every moment. That way, there are no regrets, and there is no pain.

After writing, she tucked the notebook under her pillow, turned off the light, and went to sleep.

But for the first time in a long while, she dreamed.

In the dream, there was a girl named Qu Ran. It felt as if someone was covering her mouth and pinning her down. She was screaming, crying.

Was it a nightmare?

She woke up with a start. Her face was wet. She reached up to wipe it, it was covered in tears.

At the same time, Shang Li also woke up.

An inexplicable sadness had washed over her. She sat up, grabbed her phone, and tapped on Zhong Qiu’s WeChat profile. She began typing:

I had a dream. You were crying in it. Sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing you cry made my heart ache so much that I woke up.

She hit send.

But a red exclamation mark appeared.

[You are not yet their friend. Please send a friend request first.]

She had forgotten. She had been deleted.

Shang Li couldn’t go back to sleep. After tossing and turning several times, she picked up her phone again and sent a friend request.

Even knowing her phone was off and the friend request might never be seen, Shang Li couldn’t help herself.

Suddenly, five unread WeChat messages from Ding Jie flashed onto her screen:

[9:20 PM]: Master Shang, I just heard Miss Qu say she’s going to take Yu Jiayan’s private helicopter to see the view of Dafu Mountain.

[9:22 PM]: What should we do? Quick, give me a plan. Otherwise, Miss Qu is going to be snatched away by him.

[9:30 PM]: Hello? Anyone there?

[9:33 PM]: Are you asleep?

[9:40 PM]: Guess we’ll talk tomorrow, then.

It was now 11:00 PM.

Looking at the message about the helicopter tour, Shang Li felt a sharp pang of jealousy. Does she really prefer Yu Jiayan after all? No, no. Yu Yazhi had said it herself: Qu Ran follows the path of least resistance. Perhaps she was simply interested in the view of the village from above. Regardless, the priority was getting back as soon as possible.

Shang Li climbed out of bed, changed her clothes, and headed to the martial arts studio to continue designing the choreography. Of the four major fight scenes, this was the third. She decided to use video tutorials for the rest; Ning Xuan was sharp enough that she would surely be able to learn from them.

The next morning, Ning Xuan witnessed the full extent of Shang Li’s “love brain.”

Very early on, Shang Li handed her a flash drive. “All the video tutorials are in here. If you have questions, call me but preferably, don’t. I have to leave now. If I don’t, my wife is going to be gone for good.”

Ning Xuan: “…”

What could she say? There was an old saying: Better to tear down ten temples than to destroy one marriage. “Alright. Thank you for your hard work, Master Shang. I wish you a victorious return and hope you win your lady’s heart soon.”

“Thanks. I’ll take all the luck I can get,” Shang Li said, before rushing off.

When Director He Sheng found out, he was clearly a bit annoyed, though he didn’t say it to Shang Li’s face. Instead, he just sighed. “I really couldn’t tell that woman was such a hopeless romantic.”

Xin Lie, who was also present and privy to some of the gossip, joked, “Can you tell that I’m a hopeless romantic, too?”

He Sheng rubbed his temples. “My set is a ‘No Romance’ zone. No dating on the company dime.”

He said it, but on a closed set where people saw each other every day, “workplace romance” was inevitable. You couldn’t stop it if you tried especially when Alphas and Omegas were mixed together. When pheromones got involved, things tended to escalate quickly.

Thinking of this, he glanced at Jin Min, who was resting with her eyes closed nearby. To accommodate her heat cycle, they had been filming indoor scenes for the past few days. He wasn’t sure how much longer it would take for her to fully recover.

Wait, what is that red mark under her ear?

“Hahaha, Director He, if there really is a romance on the company dime, just let the fans ‘ship’ the real couple. It’s great publicity,” Xin Lie said, laughing as she tried to pull Ning Xuan into the conversation. “Ning Xuan, don’t you agree?”

Ning Xuan nodded. “As long as it doesn’t affect the filming, Director He couldn’t care less about our private lives.”

The keyword was not affecting the filming.

Xin Lie caught the hint immediately. “Exactly. As a capable adult, one must learn to balance love and career.”

She was practically making a pledge of loyalty, assuring the director that her feelings wouldn’t interfere with her work.

Jin Min, who had been resting, opened her eyes and shot Xin Lie a look of pure skepticism.

Xin Lie added quickly, “I mean it, Jin Min. You don’t need to worry about that at all. I can take responsibility for my actions.”

Jin Min closed her eyes again without a word. She was in the middle of her heat; even with suppressants, she was lethargic, moody, and in no mood for talk. At a time like this, she needed a powerful Alpha to soothe her. Yet, even after Xin Lie had bitten her ear, the Alpha had rejected her at the critical moment.

The reason? Xin Lie insisted on giving her a proper title: partner and lover, not a secret, “under-the-table” bed partner.

How infuriating!

Jin Min gritted her teeth, stood up, and went to the restroom. She replaced her scent patch and administered another dose of suppressants. When she emerged, her face was still flushed like she was drunk, but her gaze was cold and sharp.

Xin Lie was waiting for her by the door. Seeing her like this made her heart ache. “Is it really so hard to admit I’m your lover?”

Jin Min brushed back her bangs. Her red lips curled into a flirtatious, multifaceted smile, perfectly channeling her character, Chen Xiangying. “Yes. It’s very hard. Miss Xin, your window of opportunity has closed.”

With that, she swept past her.

Frustrated, Xin Lie grabbed her and pushed her back into the restroom. No one knew what happened inside, but when Jin Min finally came out, she was Chen Xiangying—her eyes shimmering with a lingering passion, every movement a calculated seduction.

“Heh, love?”

As Chen Xiangying, she laughed with a mix of disdain and enchantment. “The mortal world is a joke; devotion is the ultimate boredom. A woman who falls for ‘true love’ is a woman with one foot in the grave.”

As she spoke, she leaned against the banister while heading upstairs, glancing back at a newly arrived dancer. The dancer was young and fresh-faced, asking with innocent, beautiful eyes: “Sister, is your heart dead?”

A single tear suddenly rolled down Chen Xiangying’s cheek. She was wearing a crimson qipao, her hair pinned high in an elegant bun. The backless design of her dress revealed a large expanse of snowy skin, upon which a peony flower seemed to bloom. That single glance back, tear-streaked and vibrant, was both gaudy and heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Cut!”

The frame froze. The morning’s filming was over.

Director He signaled for the crew to wrap up, then called Ning Xuan over. He told her there was a major explosion scene scheduled for the afternoon and that she needed to be well-prepared.

Ning Xuan knew that explosion scenes were dangerous; she immediately began taking notes. Back at the hotel, she didn’t relax for a second, mentally rehearsing the sequence for the afternoon over and over again.