After Dating the President O, I Turned Into a Puppy-Like Lover - Chapter 50

After breakfast, the team leaders in their little red caps began calling out names.

Jiang He’s group was assigned to change into uniforms.

The backstage dressing area, hastily set up, was crowded. Some students weren’t shy at all, changing together in the same tent.

Jiang He lingered at the entrance, hesitant, torn between stepping in or staying out.

It was mortifying.

She would rather sweep floors or guide visitors outside the venue. If she had known she’d be this unlucky, she would have gladly given up the so-called city-level certificate.

But she had no time left to hesitate. Her turn was next, with a long line behind her. If she backed out now and regretted it later, she’d have to rejoin at the end. She was practically forced into making a choice.

The girl ahead rushed out of the tent, dressed in a short, tight blue skirt—the same one Jiang He held in her hands.

Jiang He’s heart sank.

Just as she resigned herself to going in, a girl behind her said, “Hey, let’s go together. I’m an Alpha too, it’ll save time.”

“No.” Jiang He refused curtly, her tone flat.

As she entered, she overheard two girls whispering, “Forget it, she doesn’t want to. We’re all Alphas, what’s there to be embarrassed about?”

She ignored them, quietly changing into the outfit.

To be fair, the organizers weren’t entirely careless. The uniforms were disposable but made of decent fabric—not cheap enough to offend someone used to designer clothes.

The skirt was simple in design. She slipped it on quickly.

But she lingered inside, reluctant to step out.

It wasn’t just shyness. The skirt was clearly designed for Omegas, with a built-in lining that felt restrictive and uncomfortable. She fussed with it, trying to adjust, but found no solution.

Outside, complaints grew louder. Finally, she gave up and pushed the door open.

At 1.72 meters tall, the fitted skirt hugged her figure, showing off her flawless proportions.

She wasn’t used to wearing skirts—but to others, she looked stunning.

Her high ponytail, cool and refined features, and the sleek lines of the skirt gave her a sharp, striking presence. Not an ounce of excess flesh, she looked every bit the ideal image of a campus beauty.

The crowd outside, ready to glare at the one who had kept them waiting, fell silent. Then came gasps of admiration, eyes glued to her, unable to look away.

Jiang He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, hurrying off like a bashful Omega.

Afraid of their stares, she lowered her head and rushed toward the exit only to bump into someone.

A familiar scent.

The dressing room was full of smells, overwhelming and indistinct. But this one—she recognized instantly, imprinted deep in her memory.

She looked up.

Oh no.

She wanted to run, to escape before Dan Sirou saw her like this.

But it was too late. Just as she tried to turn away, Dan Sirou spoke. “Jiang He?”

Jiang He: “…”

“Why are you dressed like, oh, I see. You were assigned to the cheer squad?”

Today was the women’s basketball match. Since it was only the group stage, the cheer squad was made up of volunteers. Dan Sirou hadn’t expected Jiang He to be assigned there.

No wonder she hadn’t answered earlier.

“Mm.” Jiang He replied reluctantly.

Dan Sirou’s eyes swept over her, up and down, lingering with quiet amusement. Finally, she couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Jiang He pouted, more embarrassed than she had ever been.

“Jiang He, your face is so red,” Dan Sirou teased, her eyes curved like crescent moons.

“It’s your fault,” Jiang He muttered under her breath, sulking.

“What was that?” Dan Sirou asked, smiling, pretending not to hear.

Jiang He turned away, refusing to repeat herself.

If not for Dan Sirou inviting her, she would never have ended up in this humiliating skirt. She had never worn one in her life, it felt unbearably awkward.

But she couldn’t say it aloud. She could only grumble silently, blaming herself, blaming Dan Sirou, blaming fate.

“Jiang He, isn’t your skirt a little small?” Dan Sirou asked, studying her. Something seemed off.

“Hm?” Jiang He touched her nose, uneasy. “Maybe a little.”

Was she fat?

She glanced down at herself. No, she looked fine.

Dan Sirou smiled softly. “If we get the chance later, I’ll take a picture for you.”

“No!” Jiang He blurted, face burning.

“Why not?” Dan Sirou narrowed her eyes playfully. “Are you shy?”

Jiang He: “…”

“Don’t be.” Dan Sirou’s gaze lingered on her profile, casual yet tender. “You look good like this.”

Jiang He swallowed nervously. “Really?” she asked, cautious.

Dan Sirou nodded lightly. “Mm.”

Jiang He turned away again, still uneasy but her embarrassment eased.

With Dan Sirou’s reassurance, she began to accept the outfit, no longer feeling so mortified.

Then she noticed the bag in Dan Sirou’s hand. “Are you changing too? Don’t tell me you’re in the cheer squad?”

“No,” Dan Sirou said. “I’m assigned to greeting guests at the entrance.”

Jiang He nodded thoughtfully.

Of course. With her looks and presence, she was perfect for the role.

“Are you changing now?” Jiang He asked, then her eyes lit up. “Someone just came out, there’s no one inside. Go quickly.”

Dan Sirou glanced over, then nodded. “Alright.”

Jiang He watched her slip behind the curtain. Anticipation stirred in her chest. She licked her lips unconsciously, her heart restless.

She stood at the doorway, eyes fixed on the closed curtain.

Not a sound came from within.

The dressing room bustled with people coming and going.

Finally, the curtain shifted. A slender, pale hand pushed the fabric aside, and a graceful figure emerged. The girl blinked, and in that instant, she seemed to radiate all the beauty of the world.

She wore a long, elegant gown. White tassels shimmered under the lights, like a fairy descending into the mortal realm. Standing there, she transformed the noisy dressing room into something resembling a grand banquet hall, elevating the atmosphere single-handedly.

Jiang He found herself moving closer without thinking.

Dan Sirou blinked in surprise. “You’re still here?”

“I was waiting for you,” Jiang He said.

The girl before her had smooth, flowing shoulders and perfect proportions. The gown revealed her delicate collarbones, her slender waist barely a handful, and the fitted skirt hugged her figure flawlessly, leaving no trace of imperfection.

Every curve was accentuated, graceful and mesmerizing.

Dan Sirou hadn’t yet processed Jiang He’s sudden directness when she noticed her gaze—unblinking, fixed downward.

She narrowed her eyes. “Where exactly are you staring?”

Jiang He snapped out of it, embarrassed.

Their eyes met for a moment, Jiang He visibly uneasy.

“Dan Sirou,” she murmured.

“Hm?” Dan Sirou looked at her, puzzled.

“You, today,” Jiang He paused, then said with quiet emotion, “You look beautiful.”

If it had been anyone else, someone talkative and used to giving compliments, Dan Sirou would have brushed it off politely. But Jiang He, who rarely spoke more than a few words, had said it. Dan Sirou was momentarily at a loss.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her heart unsettled. “Thank you. You’re beautiful too.”

Jiang He: “…”

Jiang He wasn’t used to hearing the word beautiful applied to herself.

As a child, she had been dark-skinned, her features not yet developed. No one had ever said such things. Later, as she grew fairer and her features sharpened, even those who confessed to her only called her “cool,” never “pretty.”

The dressing room grew warmer. The faint floral scent surrounding Dan Sirou overwhelmed Jiang He, like a perfume bottle spilled inside her chest. Her heart raced, a restless fire rising within. She forced herself to calm down, muttering darkly, “I, I’ll go.”

Before Dan Sirou could respond, she hurried away.

Because of her height and aloof aura, Jiang He was chosen by the lead Omega dancer to stand in the front rows of the cheer squad, right where the cameras would capture her most easily.

Though the hastily formed cheer squad’s dance was far from polished, their collective energy and presence carried the performance. Uploaded online, the video quickly went viral, propelling the group of amateurs into sudden popularity.

Among them, Jiang He’s striking looks drew the most attention. Comments flooded in, praising her appearance.

She herself remained completely unaware.

By evening, during dinner time, Marina—part of the Liguo delegation slipped over to the Huaguo side to find Dan Sirou. Carefree and mischievous, she had mastered the art of persuasion: a wink, a playful pout, and a mention of diplomatic ties was enough to charm the guards into letting her through.

Brimming with excitement, she showed Dan Sirou the cheer squad video, unleashing her teasing. “Hahaha, this is killing me. Jiang’s movements are so awkward, like a swan at a disco!”

Dan Sirou had been watching seriously, but Marina’s metaphor made her laugh.

Yet unlike Marina, whose eyes held only playful mockery, Dan Sirou’s smile carried warmth, her gaze soft with affection.

At that moment, light footsteps approached. The air shifted as someone stopped beside Marina.

Dan Sirou looked up at Jiang He, her laughter fading.

Jiang He glanced at her, then quickly lowered her head, speaking only to Marina.

“Why are you secretly watching me?” Marina teased, narrowing her eyes in mock displeasure.

“Can’t I?” Jiang He retorted. “Everyone’s watching. I’m trending now.”

Jiang He fell silent, replaying the video from start to finish.

She wanted to disappear. Wearing that awful blue mini-skirt, now seen by everyone, it was suffocating.

Marina giggled, then pulled Jiang He aside when Dan Sirou was approached by others. She tried to cheer up the sulking girl.

“Jiang, remember what I said this morning? I thought chasing Dan would be tough for you.”

Jiang He nodded, unsure where she was going.

“But now I’ve changed my mind. I think Dan likes you,” Marina said.

Jiang He’s lips twitched, her voice skeptical. “What nonsense. She’d never like me.”

“It’s true,” Marina insisted, studying her. “You’re clueless, you don’t even realize she has feelings for you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Jiang He muttered, still unwilling to believe.

“Eyes don’t lie. I’m certain,” Marina said, though Jiang He’s barrage of doubt left her less confident. “Fine. If she doesn’t, then just keep chasing her.”

Jiang He: “…”

It felt like nothing had been said at all.

Her brief spark of joy dimmed, her gaze cooling like fading starlight.

She lifted her head and met Dan Sirou’s eyes.

The girl paused, then tucked her hair back, a faint smile curving at the corner of her lips.