After Becoming the Live-in Scummy Alpha, I Pamper Her with Real Strength - Chapter 42.1 (END)

In the later stages of her pregnancy, Mo Qingran experienced severe morning sickness—everything she ate came right back up. Her lower back constantly ached, and the little one in her belly wouldn’t stop squirming.

Watching her suffer broke He Song’s heart. She crouched down beside her and gently traced circles on her belly with her hand.

“Don’t give your mama such a hard time, little Tuan Tuan.”

“Be good now, Mommy needs to sleep.”

“Tuan Tuan” was the baby’s nickname, given by He Song because of how round and full Mo Qingran’s belly had become during pregnancy.

Hearing the gentle lilt in He Song’s voice, Mo Qingran couldn’t help but laugh, her tightly furrowed brows finally relaxing. She smiled softly and said, “Looks like we’ve got two kids in the house—and one’s not even born yet.”

She was teasing her for speaking in baby talk.

He Song scratched her head sheepishly and sat down beside her. Mo Qingran never found lying flat comfortable in her condition. So whenever she needed rest, He Song would let her lean on her shoulder until she drifted off, then gently carry her to bed.

“I can’t help it when I talk to the baby,” He Song said, draping a shawl over Mo Qingran’s shoulders.

The baby wasn’t planned, but their joy was real. As first-time moms, they spent their days reading childcare guides while eagerly preparing to welcome their new family member.

He Song cleared her entire schedule early on and stayed by Mo Qingran’s side, accompanying her to and from work. She even put together a personalized meal plan for pregnant mothers and cooked every day.

“You really don’t have to be this anxious. The doctor said everything looks great during the check-ups,” Mo Qingran said, sipping her bowl of pork rib soup in small spoonful.

But not sooner had the warmth of the soup hit her stomach than the familiar wave of nausea surged up again. She tried to fight it down, but within seconds, she was clutching her mouth and lurching toward the trash bin to vomit.

He Song gently patted her shoulder to help her feel better. This routine had become all too familiar ever since the pregnancy nausea kicked in.

“How can I not worry?” He Song muttered, her brows pinched in distress. “You barely eat, and every time you do, it comes right back up. Childbirth shouldn’t have to be this brutal… After you deliver, I’m spoiling you rotten.”

But what He Song didn’t expect was that once the misery of pregnancy ended, the real nightmare would just be beginning.

The moment she held their baby—soft, warm, and ridiculously cute—her heart completely melted. With long, fluttery lashes, rosy cheeks, and tender skin that seemed to glisten with moisture, their baby girl’s big, teary eyes were like glistening grapes.

“Ah—AHHH!”

She had the face of an angel, but the voice of a banshee. Every time Tuan Tuan let out a wail, He Song swore the house shook.

The baby cried like her little heart was breaking. He Song would rush to soothe her, wondering, She just ate, so… is it her diaper?
But when she peeked inside, the diaper was dry.

So why was the baby crying? He Song was on the verge of tears herself.

The noise woke Mo Qingran, who sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes. “Is the baby crying again?”

“Yeah,” He Song nodded. “You sleep. I’ll take her out for a walk. A lap around the house usually calms her down.”

Whenever Tuan Tuan had one of her unexplained meltdowns, He Song would carry her through the house, pacing room to room. Eventually, the baby would stop crying, look around with curious eyes, and even giggle now and then.

“She’s definitely going to be a handful when she grows up,” Mo Qingran said once.

And she was absolutely right.

In the following years, their little Mo Zile (Tuan Tuan’s full name) became a full-blown household tyrant—bouncing off the walls and giving neither mom a moment’s peace.

They thought once she started kindergarten and had to adjust to group life, she’d calm down a bit. But her nature remained stubbornly unchanged.

One time, during naptime, she sneakily pulled a boy’s hair into a tiny bun, and the poor kid got laughed at all day.
Another time, she picked a huge bouquet of wildflowers for a classmate—only for a fat, wriggling caterpillar to crawl out from the center. She giggled from the sidelines while the other girl screamed, and the two ended up in a full-blown brawl that resulted in both moms being called in.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. There were so many stories, it would take all night to list them. But with elementary school just around the corner, they knew something had to change.

“I thought you were against me joining Mommy and Me Diaries? Why the sudden change of heart?” He Song asked.

She had just returned from an awards gala, wearing a figure-hugging pale pink gown dotted with pearls. Elegant and regal.
Now, sprawled out on the couch with no regard for posture, her beautiful bare feet rested on the plush white carpet.
The shimmering dolphin-shaped trophy she’d won was casually discarded on the floor nearby.

Mo Qingran walked over, picked up the trophy carefully, and placed it on the display shelf in the living room.

The shelf held all kinds of trophies, and this wasn’t even He Song’s first dolphin award—she already had two others.

“If we agree to do this show, there’s no backing out,” Mo Qingran reminded her as she placed a pair of slippers at He Song’s feet, then sat down beside her. “Has Tuan Tuan ever gone back on something once she’s made up her mind?”

He Song glanced up at the stairs, slipped on the slippers, and started heading up—only to let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Ah—!”

“What’s wrong?” Mo Qingran quickly bent down to check.

He Song instinctively tried to pull her foot back, but Mo Qingran was faster and caught sight of three swollen red toes on her right foot.

“I accidentally kicked something backstage…” He Song muttered, scratching her head.

Mo Qingran narrowed her eyes and asked with loaded curiosity, “Accidentally, huh? What kind of ‘accident’ are we talking about?”

Avoiding her gaze, He Song looked away guiltily. She knew her Omega wife could get jealous over the smallest things.

“I saw a prop shelf falling, so I rushed forward… and accidentally kicked it.”

“You saw it falling, and still rushed toward it?”

Mo Qingran crossed her arms and waited, clearly not buying it. She wanted to hear what else He Song could come up with.

Caught red-handed, He Song lowered her head. “…You already know, don’t you?”

Mo Qingran let out a cold snort, retrieved a bottle of bruise ointment from under the coffee table, and gently began rubbing it on He Song’s foot.

“How could I not know?” she said flatly. “That actress Li Ying had her assistant ask Lili for your WeChat—said she wanted to thank you for your ‘heroic rescue’.”

The entertainment industry was a mixed bag. Ever since He Song started acting more regularly, her reputation and fame had been rising fast. Naturally, it attracted all kinds of admirers hoping to get close.

Lili had always kept a close watch, guarding against anyone with ulterior motives. But He Song just had a magnetic energy that attracted attention—every drama she filmed sparked CP rumors, and even variety shows earned her a few fangirl crushes.

It was a never-ending web of entanglements. Mo Qingran couldn’t understand it. He Song had long gone public about having a wife and daughter. So what were these shameless people still trying to do?

He Song clearly hadn’t expected that a simple, instinctive act of help would be turned into a “favor owed.”

“I just saw that the rack was about to fall on the person in front of me, so I kicked it out of the way. No physical contact, no eye contact, not even a single word exchanged. I don’t even know what her name is.”

Mo Qingran’s words were laced with sarcasm, but her hands—rubbing ointment on He Song’s bruised toes—were gentle and precise. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just upset. You’re a taken woman.

Maybe next time you should wear a collar out with a tag that reads ‘Happily Married.’”

He Song burst into laughter. Just imagining the scene was hilarious. She leaned in and kissed the corner of Mo Qingran’s mouth. “Good thing we’re doing Mommy & Me Diaries—a perfect chance to show the world how blissful my family life is. You better come visit us on set.”

Mo Qingran held back a smile. “We’ll see. If things at the company aren’t too busy, I’ll drop by.”

________________________________________

“Tuan Tuan, once we get to the Forest Cabin, you have to be on your best behavior, okay? The crew is going to assign us tasks. If you do yours well, you’ll get to be on TV.”

At four years old, Tuan Tuan had soft, chubby cheeks and big, sparkling eyes that darted around curiously, taking in all the new sights. She carried a milk bottle printed with strawberries, wore a tiny strawberry-shaped crossbody purse, and had two round buns tied on top of her head that bounced with every step—absolutely adorable.

The crew members standing by the van couldn’t help breaking into fond smiles.

So cute! No wonder—He Song and Mo Qingran’s child was bound to be a stunner. No matter which parent she resembled, she was destined to be a beauty.

Tuan Tuan looked up at her mom and gave herself a pep talk in her milky voice: “I’m gonna be on TV! I’m gonna do my task!”

He Song chuckled to herself. Any challenge that could light a fire under Tuan Tuan’s competitive spirit would instantly become her mission in life. Who knew what sort of promise she’d made with Xiao Yu this time?

Xiao Yu was a girl who often got into fights with Tuan Tuan. She was a few months older, petite in size, but in terms of strength and fighting? Tuan Tuan lost every time.

The little bully Mo Zile had finally met her match.

He Song couldn’t help feeling a little smug that someone was capable of keeping her daughter in check.

Still, repeated losses didn’t dampen Tuan Tuan’s drive to win. She found other ways to compete—who got more gold stars, who painted the prettier picture…

This time, the TV challenge started the previous week when a local station came to the kindergarten to film a promotional clip. They needed a girl to lead the opening and closing segments—and Xiao Yu was chosen.

“Mo Zile, I’m gonna be on TV. I’ve beaten you again,” Xiao Yu said smugly, sticking out her tongue and pulling a face.

Tuan Tuan’s face turned red with frustration. But then she remembered what her mom had mentioned about a variety show and snapped back, “So what? I’ll be on TV too, and I’ll be on way longer than you!”

Xiao Yu smirked. “My mom says people who brag too much will blow their own horns to pieces.”

Tuan Tuan: “It’s not bragging! Just wait and see—I’ll be on TV, too!”

Xiao Yu: “Fine. Let’s pinky promise. But if you don’t get on TV, then what?”

Tuan Tuan: “If I don’t, I’ll be your assistant for the whole semester—get you water, carry your books, everything!”

She’d learned that line from a TV drama—seemed like every time the male lead lost a fight, he became someone’s little minion.

Xiao Yu found the condition a bit strange. “I don’t want an assistant. If you lose, just buy me strawberry milk every day for a whole semester. If I lose, I’ll buy yours.”

Deal struck—their strawberry milk showdown was on.
________________________________________

But the moment Mo Zile arrived at the Forest Cabin, she burst into tears at the sight of a large German shepherd that charged out from behind the doghouse.

She hadn’t even stepped inside yet, and her wail was already loud enough to shake the trees. Inside and out, every guest turned to witness her dramatic entrance.

The dog barked. She cried louder. One human, one dog—their voices echoing off each other in perfect chaos.

The guests all came out of the cabin, staring in shock.

He Song: “…”

She crouched down beside her daughter, gently stroking her head. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. The dog is on a leash. It won’t bite.”

After crying for a bit longer, Tuan Tuan seemed to realize the dog wasn’t actually dangerous. Embarrassed, she sniffled and ducked behind her mom, clutching He Song’s pants and peeking shyly at the laughing adults and kids.

“I’m not scared. It’s just… the dog is too ugly…”

At that moment, one of the other moms stepped forward—a gentle-looking woman in a purple dress. She crouched beside Tuan Tuan and said warmly, “I know, right? Wang Wang must’ve startled you when he suddenly jumped out. But he’s here to protect us. He’s our cabin’s guardian. How about we befriend him, okay?”

Tuan Tuan, cheeks still red, gave a shy nod. “Okay.”

The woman stood up with a kind smile and greeted He Song. “Hello, Ms. He. I’m Lin Miao. Looking forward to working with you. That’s my son, Fang Li.”

And just like that, all four families at the Forest Cabin completed their cheerful introductions.

But before they could even get comfortable, the production team started causing trouble.

On an old wooden table sat four task cards. The “hunter,” acting as the cabin host, gestured for each family to pick one.

“Each card has a dish written on it. Your job is to cook that dish, and together we’ll make dinner.”

“What if we can’t complete it?” one mom asked hesitantly. The cabin didn’t exactly look fully stocked.

The hunter replied calmly, “Then your dinner will be missing a dish.”

All the moms exchanged looks—challenge accepted. No way were they letting their kids go hungry.

________________________________________

Once the cards were handed out, everyone’s expressions varied.

He Song looked down at their card—“Chicken Stew with Mushrooms”—and breathed a sigh of relief.

That didn’t sound too hard.

Cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck—

But when she stood face-to-face with a flock of loudly clucking roosters at the chicken coop, her breath hitched. She turned to the hunter, dazed. “You mean I have to… catch one? Myself? They don’t look very… approachable.”

The hunter smiled politely, opened the cage, let one rooster out, and made a “be my guest” gesture before walking off to the next group.

He Song looked like she might cry.

Meanwhile, Mo Zile was pumped. She clenched her fists and bounced on her toes, chanting, “Go, Mommy! Catch that chicken!”

Facing her daughter’s sparkling, eager eyes, He Song gulped. She widened her stance, stretched out her arms, and struck a dramatic pose—though her expression said she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Stay back, baby. Watch Mommy show you how it’s done!”

Mo Zile giggled excitedly as she watched her mom launch forward like an arrow—right toward a red-and-gold speckled rooster.

The rooster, nicknamed “Big Flower,” flapped its wings and sidestepped with ease, then casually strutted away like nothing happened.

He Song & Mo Zile: “…”

Mo Zile: “Mommy, you’re no good. We’re not gonna have chicken stew tonight.”

He Song: “I can do it! That was just a warm-up. Watch this next one!”

So Mo Zile sat by the chicken coop, chin in hand, yawning, as she watched her mother go three hundred rounds with the rooster—feathers flying, but still no chicken in hand.

Just as she was about to step in herself, a tiny, chubby hand tugged on her sleeve.

She turned and saw Yaya—a little girl in a fluffy pink dress.

“Big sis… egg. I egg. Find egg.”

Yaya was the youngest of the four children, just over two years old. Her speech was still babyish, and she wobbled when she walked. Chubby and cheerful, her bright blue eyes gleamed—she was a little mixed-race sweetheart.

Mo Zile blinked. “You’re looking for eggs? Is that your and your mom’s task?”