After Becoming the Live-in Scummy Alpha, I Pamper Her with Real Strength - Chapter 37

Lying in bed, He Song scrolled through recent online discussions about Someday and noticed a surprising trend: a growing number of CP (couple pairing) fans shipping her with Mo Qingran. The buzz was picking up momentum—and fast.

More unexpectedly, her public image had begun to improve. Viewers were increasingly convinced by how thoroughly Mo Qingran had her wrapped around her finger on the show.

The way her eyes overflowed with affection, the involuntary glances, the constant physical closeness—He Song’s shameless pursuit had audiences smirking with glee.

Meanwhile, her Weibo follower count had skyrocketed. Some were fans of her drama Fenghua Chronicle, drawn by her visuals or acting, while others were haters from the reality show—there to mock and stir the pot.

All things considered, it was a positive development.

He Song finally breathed a sigh of relief. The internet-wide backlash she had feared never came. Coming on this show had been the right move after all.

Then she got a message from He Yan:
“I watched the livestream. That was some A+ promo for the movie.”

“I’m thinking of releasing a short teaser. Make sure to repost it.”

“I pulled every string I had to secure a Spring Festival release. It’s a risky slot, but if we hit, we hit big.”

He Song replied, “You’re really gambling here. Wouldn’t it be safer to aim for a less competitive window? The Spring Festival is a bloodbath. If reviews are bad and we get used as a punching bag for comparisons, it could ruin your future directing prospects.”

A weak debut could cast a long shadow, narrowing opportunities and leaving a trail of doubt and ridicule—even if future works were good, skeptics would never let it go.

“I believe in the film,” she added. “If we were targeting a normal holiday slot, this would be the dark horse of the season. But for Spring Festival? Are you aiming for awards?”

She watched He Yan’s typing bubble flicker on and off repeatedly. She could sense his nerves.

He Yan: “I’ve invested everything into this. I even bragged about it to people in the industry. If this flops, I’ll be the biggest joke in town.”

Dropping a solid acting career to direct? Many already accused him of trying to cash in. He wasn’t formally trained either. Just a few years of study—did he really think that was enough to make great films?

Everyone said this kind of amateurish ambition was what made the industry so shallow.

He Song: “Alright. I’ll support you. I’ll help however I can.”

Just then—click—the bathroom door opened. Mo Qingran stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy white towel and trailed by a cloud of warm mist. She was towel-drying her dripping hair, eyes half-lidded from the steam as she glanced over at He Song.

“Your turn,” she said, settling on the bed.

She picked up her phone, lips curling into a smug smile.
“Ji Jingyan agreed.”

The screen showed a message with just three words: “See you tomorrow.”

It was anonymous, but both she and He Song knew exactly who had sent it.

________________________________________

That night, sharing the same bed again, He Song and Mo Qingran had the same dream.

The setting was the Mo estate. He Song’s consciousness floated, watching from above as Mo Qingran stood trembling outside a dark hallway, overwhelmed by the effects of pheromones. The cedar scent in the room was so intense it seeped from under the door.

But what made He Song’s heart sink was a third scent—one unfamiliar, yet unmistakable.

White rose.

From inside came unrestrained moans and heavy panting. It wasn’t hard to guess what was happening.

“If it’s too much for you, come in and join us.” Jiang Weiran’s voice filtered through the door, making Mo Qingran’s entire body tremble with rage.

“What the hell is this?!” Bai Wei’s voice snapped. “Why haven’t you gotten rid of her yet?”

Jiang Weiran chuckled, “I want her to hear. Let her hear how much fun we’re having. She walks around like some Auntouchable saint, always keeping me at arm’s length. Now look at her—can’t even move from pheromone overload.”

Time dragged on in excruciating slow motion. Eventually, the sounds inside subsided, and Jiang Weiran—wearing nothing but a nightgown—walked out.

She looked down at Mo Qingran slumped on the floor.

“Pathetic. Want me to help you?”

Mo Qingran weakly rasped, “Get… away… from me.”

Jiang Weiran raised an eyebrow—her usual prelude to anger—but this time, surprisingly, she didn’t lash out. Instead, she carried Mo Qingran into a room.

This rare display of tenderness set off alarms in Mo Qingran’s head.

It wasn’t until Jiang Weiran handed her a piece of paper that she understood.

“Divorce Agreement” was written at the top in bold.

Mo Qingran’s heart lurched. The paper she had dreamed of for years was finally here—and yet she couldn’t believe it.

It had to be a trap.

Why would the greedy, controlling Jiang Weiran give up the wealth and status of being married into the Mo family?

Reading Mo Qingran’s doubt, Jiang Weiran said coolly, “It’s real. I’m willing to divorce you—on one condition. I want sixty percent of your assets.”

Mo Qingran stared at her in disgust.
“Sixty percent? Are you insane? You think you can walk in and out of the Mo family whenever you please? If you want to split assets, we’ll do it in court.”

“This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” Jiang Weiran replied, waving the paper in her hand. “Pay me off and I’ll disappear. I swear you’ll never see me again.”

Mo Qingran sneered, “I’ll give you twenty percent. That’s more than enough to let you live in luxury for the rest of your life. You can have a dozen lovers and do whatever the hell you want.”

She expected Jiang Weiran to haggle, but the woman was strangely agreeable tonight.

“Twenty-five. I already signed. You sign, and we’ll finalize it tomorrow.”

She glanced at the scar on the back of Mo Qingran’s neck—jagged, grotesque. She knew what it meant. An Omega without glands couldn’t be marked again. Couldn’t have children.

“I don’t love you. I can’t take responsibility for you.”

“So the woman in there is your true love?” Mo Qingran’s voice was pure venom.

“Bai Wei was always the one I couldn’t have. I agreed to marry you back then only because you looked a little like her. But you’re not her. Never were.”

“I’m divorcing you for her. We’re going abroad together. Meeting me was your misfortune. But after this, we’re even.”

Even?

Betrayed, disfigured, sterilized—this was “even”?

Hatred bloomed violently in her chest. Thorned vines of resentment wrapped around her heart.

She smiled, picked up the pen, and signed.

Jiang Weiran, I swear—I’ll make the rest of your life a living hell.

________________________________________

Morning light slipped through the curtain cracks. Two women shared the narrow single bed.

Mo Qingran, curled up in He Song’s arms, clung tightly to the fabric at her waist, breath quick and uneven. Her face was pale.

He Song awoke under this pressure and saw the pain etched on Mo Qingran’s face. Alarmed, she gently shook her awake.

Mo Qingran’s eyelids fluttered open—and suddenly—smack.

A crisp slap rang out in the stillness.

He Song, holding her now-red cheek, blinked in stunned confusion. “You had a nightmare? It’s me—He Song.”

“He Song?” Mo Qingran mumbled, disoriented. She looked around. This wasn’t the Mo estate. Where was she?

Which one was the dream?

From morning till afternoon, tension hung in the air. No matter how He Song tried to talk to her, Mo Qingran remained aloof, cold, guarded.

She looked at her like she was the enemy.

Everyone in the house noticed the sudden shift. The couple who had been inseparable the day before now seemed to be on the verge of breaking up.

Even the meals He Song cooked tasted bland to everyone—except Bai Wei, who smirked secretly. She assumed this rift was thanks to what she’d told Mo Qingran that night.

Having successfully sown discord, it was time to move in.

So when the next “heartthrob pick” segment came, Bai Wei once again invited He Song.

Everyone turned to look at Mo Qingran—only to be stunned when she invited Ji Jingyan instead.

And Ji Jingyan actually agreed.

【What is this chaotic love geometry? Everyone just swapping partners now?】

【Did I miss a few episodes? How did Mo Qingran and Ji Jingyan become a thing?】

【Back to the beginning to catch the plot twist—this is WILD.】

【Actually, if you’ve been watching closely, Ji Jingyan was eyeing Mo Qingran from day one.】

【No need to pit them—Bai Wei and Mo Qingran have very different styles.】

【Still, Bai Wei’s been flirting with everyone since day one… I wouldn’t be surprised if she is playing them all.】

【She’s just friendly! It’s always been He Song she wanted to invite.】

He Song wasn’t too bothered by the pairing—she knew Mo Qingran and Ji Jingyan were likely discussing business.

When Bai Wei invited her again, she almost declined but held back. Bai Wei was a walking time bomb, and He Song needed to figure out exactly what she’d said to Mo Qingran that night.

She agreed.
“Alright, Miss Bai.”

She turned to explain to Mo Qingran—only to meet a cold, distant gaze.

Pain squeezed her chest. That look, so familiar, so bitter—it reminded her of the earlier dream. The look of betrayal.

Would they really end up like they had in the original novel?