After Becoming the Live-in Scummy Alpha, I Pamper Her with Real Strength - Chapter 36

“Take your clothes off?”
So sudden?

He Song froze for a moment, unable to process it right away.

But to Mo Qingran, that hesitation looked like guilt—like she had something to hide.

“What’s wrong? Afraid I’ll see something I shouldn’t?” Mo Qingran stepped closer, pinning He Song, who was half a head taller, against the door.

“Don’t want to undress? I’ll help you, then.”

He Song stared at the breathtaking face so close to hers, her throat tightening, heart pounding like a drum. The other woman’s light, sweet scent filled the space between them, and every spot where their skin touched seemed to burn.

“Okay, okay! I’ll do it myself!”

She unzipped the front of her jacket, revealing a soft yellow tank top. The sleeves slipped from her shoulders—but just before the fabric could fall further, Mo Qingran reached out and stopped her.

He Song: ???

“This is enough,” Mo Qingran murmured in a low voice, brushing a delicate finger over He Song’s collarbone, then slowly trailing downward.

Wherever that finger touched, He Song felt hypersensitive. She couldn’t stop a shiver, her lips quirking into a nervous smile.

The minimalist gray-white room now seemed filled with pink, sugary bubbles. Time slowed between them, and the air itself felt warm on He Song’s cheeks.

Mo Qingran leaned in, her voice soft as breath against her ear.
“What? Ticklish?”

He Song felt her heart skip a beat. Lips pressed tight, she nodded slightly.
“A little… What are you touching me for?”

Mo Qingran withdrew her hand and stepped back just enough to cross her arms, her tone suddenly sharp and accusatory:
“Miss He, I didn’t realize you were this popular. Even an old flame who’s been overseas for years managed to show up on a dating show just to confess to you?”

Damn it. She knew it. Bai Wei had clearly gone and stirred up trouble.

He Song tugged her sleeves up, trying to explain, “It’s all in the past. She did confess that day, but I turned her down.”

“Turned her down? Really? What, playing hard to get?” Mo Qingran scoffed.
“She was your long-time white moonlight, wasn’t she? Didn’t you have a white rose tattooed right here, under your collarbone? I saw it clearly that night.”

He Song knew exactly which night she meant. She quickly opened her jacket and declared her loyalty:
“It’s gone. Look. I had it removed right after that night. I might have really liked her once, but I don’t anymore.”

“I like you now, Mo Qingran. It’s not about anyone else. I mean it. I like you in the kind of way that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Mo Qingran huffed and looked away proudly,
“Good. At least you’re self-aware. That temporary mark we did—it’s probably worn off by now, hasn’t it?”

He Song picked up on the hidden implication immediately. She wrapped her arms around Mo Qingran, gently kissed her neck, and led her toward the bed.

They slept deeply, dreamlessly.

When He Song awoke, the first thing she felt was the warm softness in her arms. Peeking one eye open, she saw Mo Qingran sleeping peacefully, her cheeks flushed.

She had tucked herself into He Song’s embrace, half her face nestled into a very flattering curve. She looked blissfully content.

The temporary mark had lasted late into the night. By the end, Mo Qingran was completely limp from exhaustion. He Song had bathed her and tucked her into bed.

Though the bed was only 1.5 meters wide, the two of them curled up together comfortably, like a pair of newlyweds.

Feeling refreshed, He Song reached for her phone. Last night, after she’d sent Mo Qingran a text saying “I like you,” she hadn’t checked her messages again.

Now, two unread texts popped up:

“Let’s see how you behave.”
“You said I was your forever first love—the one who never fades.”

He Song sighed and rubbed her temples. Bai Wei really needed to be dealt with. She was a pro at playing innocent while stirring the pot—a walking time bomb.

Today was a filming day with reality show coverage. She had to report to He Yan’s movie set.

Thankfully, she’d already communicated with He Yan. He welcomed the reality show cameras as long as they avoided scenes that would spoil the film. Today’s shoot was safe to follow.

Still, He Song lingered, reluctant to part. She kissed Mo Qingran’s forehead gently. It was still barely dawn—gray mist shrouded the sky outside the window.

The movie’s first half would be filmed in just this kind of dreary, damp weather. The female lead, a domestic abuse survivor, often sprinted down the seaside path in the early morning.

Running and feeling the wind—only then did she feel truly free.

She wanted to leave her home, her small town, and start over somewhere no one knew her.

But her alcoholic, gambling father and her neurotic, unhinged mother turned her already bleak life into a bottomless pit. After each beating, her mother would hold her while crying, apologizing, then blaming poverty.

Still in high school, she lived in constant fear—of dropping out, of never waking up after the next assault.

Life’s bitterness crushed An Tian until she could barely breathe.

He Song wasn’t playing An Tian—but her mother. A character who flipped unpredictably between tenderness and mania.

Though her screen time was limited, every appearance was high-impact. She came with her own horror-movie BGM—gentle one moment, then deranged the next.

She once got so deep into character that even after the director yelled cut, she stayed in that headspace—and frightened the young actress playing the daughter to tears.

Director He Yan had only laughed in delight.
“That twisted realism is exactly what I want. With your performance, the film’s oppressive tone really shines through.”

He Song scratched her head and double-checked,
“Will it pass censorship?”

He Yan adjusted the camera and looked at the set.
“Why not? It’s not gory or violent. The abuse is shown indirectly—mostly from your facial expressions. Okay, they’re a little intense, but that’s the point, isn’t it?”

He Song: Did you have to say ‘venomous’ expression though?

In truth, she didn’t rely much on exaggerated expressions. She was just eerily blank—cold to the point of numbness. Her eyes, detached. But when filming the abuse scenes, she added clenched jaws and bulging temple veins.

“Why are you always trying to run away? Just like your deadbeat father—rotting in that mahjong parlor every day and only coming home to ask me for money!”

“Who was that girl who walked you home the other day? You went to the beach last weekend with her, didn’t you? Why didn’t you drown in the ocean and save us all the trouble?!”

“Waaah, An Ran, you’re all I have left. Don’t be like your father. Mommy loves you the most. I only hit you because I care. Why do you keep making me angry, An Ran? An Ran!”

Completely hysterical—a textbook madwoman.

To get into character, He Song would pace the dressing room, muttering lines while biting her fingers, burning them into muscle memory.

Even the cameraman covering the behind-the-scenes footage was visibly unsettled—but still dutifully livestreamed everything.

【Holy crap, who’s this lunatic? Does He Song have a screw loose?】

【Relax, it’s acting—this is He Yan’s new film Seaside Time.】

【So He Song’s playing the crazy mom?】

【Terrifying. I’m out—I don’t want nightmares.】

【Already fully immersed…】

【Looking forward to Director He Yan’s Seaside Time! It’s his directorial debut, everyone support it!】

【I can’t believe I’m kinda… moved by He Song’s performance. I’ll definitely go see it in theaters.】

【Her acting’s skyrocketing. Which method acting class did she attend?!】

【LOL, so when does this movie come out?】

【Wraps by end of year, probably hits theaters in February. Marketing will follow.】

【Scaredy-cats, go watch Fenghua Chronicle instead—another side of He Song, another side of Lu Li. Watch the tragic heroine’s revenge arc unfold!】

【My girl He Song can do it all. No more calling her a pretty face. Let’s see who dares throw shade now.】

After a long shoot, He Song returned to the villa just in time for dinner.

But in the garden behind the house, she stumbled upon something strange.

Under the gazebo, Mo Qingran and Ji Jingyan sat facing each other with intense expressions. Mo Qingran was speaking seriously; Ji Jingyan frowned deeply, lost in thought.

Not far off, Bai Wei sat on a swing in a pale yellow dress, staring at them with a wounded, forlorn expression.

He Song raised an eyebrow. What is this drama?

She paused, watching from a distance—only to suddenly lock eyes with Mo Qingran.

Mo Qingran raised her hand and beckoned… like she was calling a dog.

He Song immediately trotted over and even remembered to remove her mic and place it by the door.

No cameraman, no live stream—whatever Mo Qingran and Ji Jingyan were discussing, it was serious, and private.

As she approached, she noticed a sheet of A4 paper between them, covered in scribbles—names and project titles she didn’t recognize.

“What’s going on?”

Mo Qingran: “Sit. Ji and I were discussing business—you might want to hear this.”

He Song tilted her head. Business? What business? She was terrible at economics. What could she possibly contribute?

Ji Jingyan gave her a long look.
“You’re legally married to Mo Qingran? Holding nearly 6% of Mo Corporation’s shares?”

He didn’t mince words. If Mo Qingran had no value, he wouldn’t waste time here.

He Song glanced at Mo Qingran, who nodded. She gave a quiet “yes.”

Mo Qingran clasped her hands on the table, that familiar confident glint in her eye.
“If you don’t believe it, I’ll have my assistant send over the official certificate.”

Ji Jingyan paused to think.
“Merging with a bankrupt company is one thing. Swallowing the entire Mo Corporation? That might be a bit much for Miss Mo to digest.”

No more “President Mo”—after all, she no longer controlled the company.

“How I plan to take Mo Corp is my business. If you agree to my terms, I’ll bring you in on these projects. And as you know, the profits are…”

Ji Jingyan tapped his fingers restlessly on the stone table.
“Helping you means going up against Mo Corp. I’m not afraid, but I don’t want loose ends.”

Help—or stay out?

Mo Qingran had clearly anticipated his hesitation.
“I’ve shown you my trump card. The rest is up to you. If you’re willing, we’ll talk again tomorrow at Shengming Group.”

Ji Jingyan’s face was unreadable.
“I’ll think about it. You’ll have my answer tonight.”

After he left, He Song turned to Mo Qingran, curious.
“You want Ji Jingyan to help you take over Mo Corp?”

Mo Qingran leaned on her palm, staring at the lavender in the garden.
“The Ji family is powerful—even the Mo family at its peak had to defer. His help would be a guarantee.”

“And Shengming Group?”

“It was a subsidiary my father founded. It’s still under the radar since the legal rep is Uncle Li, my father’s old subordinate.”

“I didn’t even know about it until I came of age. It’s my ace.”

Now He Song finally understood how Mo Qingran managed to rise from the ashes so quickly in the novel. Everything had been carefully laid out.

“Will Ji Jingyan agree?”

“Hard to say. Getting tangled in Mo family drama isn’t in his interest—but gaining a reliable long-term partner? That’s rare. It’s his call.”

He Song looked at Mo Qingran’s confident, glowing expression.

President Mo… truly a boss.

________________________________________

Author’s Note:

Another day, another moment of being completely swept off my feet by my badass wife.