After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 13

The woman’s lips, slightly pursed with expectation, drew closer and closer. Jin Yunxi’s throat bobbed, and with a sharp scrape, her chair slid backward.

Jin Yunxi intercepted the warm breath between them, quickly speared a piece of steak with her fork, and pressed it against Yan Qingruo’s lips—those lips that had been waiting for a kiss.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jin Yunxi asked.

Her lips touched the steak instead. Yan Qingruo’s eyes flew open. Above her head, a row of ellipses full of shock and embarrassment seemed to float. Her breathing quickened, yet her elegance did not falter. She cast Jin Yunxi a meaningful glare, half annoyed, half coy:

“Ah Yun feeding me herself?”

“Mm.” Jin Yunxi’s voice was so soft it could drip water. So different from her usual aloof and cold image, it tugged at the steadiness Yan Qingruo had finally managed to gather, scattering it all over again.

Ah Yun… was this really unintentional? Or was she imagining too much?

But right now, Jin Yunxi was being far too attentive, just like the pages of her diary described. Yan Qingruo instinctively opened her mouth, accepting the piece of steak, though her eyes never left Jin Yunxi’s face.

She didn’t notice that, at the same time, Jin Yunxi’s other hand swiftly turned off the holoscreen. The blue projection vanished in an instant.

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The tender moment did not last long before Jin Yunxi’s phone buzzed.

【Secretary-General, it’s bad—media have surrounded the building downstairs!】

Not just the press—law enforcement, research institutes… anyone dissatisfied with how Jin Yunxi had handled the supermarket incident.

They accused her of abusing her power as Secretary-General, of taking away those involved under the pretext of being family—using her authority for personal gain. Even if it was her wife, that wasn’t allowed.

Jin Yunxi’s expression sharpened. She swiftly grabbed her coat, movements smooth and decisive.

“Yan Qingruo, keep eating. I have state matters to deal with.”

Yan Qingruo blinked. So no more calling me “jiejie,” no more “Ruoruo”?

And what about… the little goodbye kiss before they parted for work?

It almost felt like those ruthless post-indulgence stories she’d read—the lover dressing coolly and leaving without a glance back. Yan Qingruo pursed her lips, sulking.

By the time Jin Yunxi slipped on her coat, the cold, capable figure of the Secretary-General had returned. She was already on the phone with her assistant downstairs, while simultaneously instructing the butler:

“Draw all the curtains. Divert the reporters to the Queen’s press hall.”

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The Queen’s press hall blazed with the dazzling, icy light of crystal chandeliers, every corner illuminated with unforgiving clarity.

A scarlet carpet stretched from the grand entrance to the base of the dais. Along both sides stood royal guards in gold-trimmed uniforms, posture impeccable, faces blank, like statues.

The air was taut with pressure, each sound amplified to the extreme.

Queen Lin Ruxi sat atop the dais, clad in a sweeping palace gown whose hem shimmered like a river of stars. Countless crystals and threads of gold caught the light with her every subtle movement, casting dazzling reflections.

Her golden hair, like a waterfall, was loosely gathered, with a few wisps falling against her snow-white neck—highlighting features so exquisitely beautiful they bore an exotic, mixed-blood allure.

“Xiao Xi… the Secretary-General still hasn’t arrived?”

Her emerald eyes, deep as the ocean, fixed with interest on the hall’s entrance. Word had already reached her—Vice-Captain’s report of Jin Yunxi stopping the law enforcement team and taking away her wife in public.

Foreign council members had also lodged complaints: abuse of power.

And the research institute? They were particularly eager. Yan Qingruo, still under her sister’s identity, was an S-class Omega exposed to a ripening agent. To them, she was no different from a living specimen.

But Jin Yunxi had forbidden them from taking her.

So, the institute had submitted their own formal protest—to the Queen herself.

Lin Ruxi had blocked all of it. She knew Jin Yunxi’s wife was a beta. That knowledge alone gave her leverage—the sense of being the sole keeper of the Alpha’s secret. Shielding Jin Yunxi cost her nothing and bought her a debt of gratitude.

The Queen never struck a deal unless it was worthwhile.

But…

Had Jin Yunxi been spending too much time with Yan Qingruo? Too long away from her morning briefings and reports? As she sipped her coffee that morning, irritation had already tugged at her brows.

Now, with the media swarming, Lin Ruxi had graciously opened the door, directing them all to the press hall.

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The sharp tap-tap of a cane echoed against the marble. Jin Yunxi entered the hall, steps steady, cane crisp against the floor.

She wore a fitted black suit, the cut outlining her tall, commanding frame. Each stride radiated a natural, unshakable authority.

She halted before the dais, inclining her head slightly.

“You’re here, Xiao Xi,” Lin Ruxi said, lips curving with sly amusement. “I thought you’d lost yourself in a tender dreamland and forgotten your duties.”

She lifted a stack of complaints, long fingers teasingly brushing the buttons of Jin Yunxi’s suit.

The reporters held their breath, eyes wide. Before even a hint of scandalous speculation could ripple across their faces, Jin Yunxi had already stepped back, her expression severe. Straightening, she moved to the podium.

Her assistant leaned to whisper in the Queen’s ear—the instructions Jin Yunxi had given en route.

Lin Ruxi’s eyes narrowed. A clever bargain. But why hadn’t Xiao Xi spoken it aloud herself? Afraid of her?

Her lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile. She nodded, waved a graceful hand—granting Jin Yunxi absolute authority.

Jin Yunxi turned, mounting the dais with measured steps. Her cold gaze swept across the sea of reporters. In that instant, the hall fell silent.

“My spouse has always been Yan Qingruo.” Jin Yunxi’s voice was low and firm, reverberating against the marble walls, every word carrying the weight of steel. “I have only ever said that my wife is Miss Yan—but I never specified whether it was the elder or the younger daughter.”

“As for the one you assumed, Yan Qingmei—that was your assumption. From today forward, I will not allow any media outlet to peddle falsehoods.”

Her hawk-like gaze swept across the crowd, forcing them to avert their eyes.

The reporters froze, stunned. Then whispers rippled, swelling into a wave of astonishment.

What a sharp counter! No one had expected Jin Yunxi’s stance to be this unyielding—especially with the Queen’s tacit approval.

But hadn’t the wedding invitation carried Yan Qingmei’s name?

How could it suddenly become Yan Qingruo within a year? And Jin Yunxi dared to insist nothing had changed, claiming it was simply a misprint.

While they were still reeling, Jin Yunxi was already directing operations with calm precision. Her lifted hand signaled the Queen’s aides. Orders spread instantly.

Broadcasts, newspapers, online platforms, even national surveillance departments—all moved like pieces in a grand machine, stirred by an invisible hand. A storm of information surged outward, yet remained under her tight control. The truth was buried, sealed away.

For one reason only—one she kept hidden.

To protect the amnesiac Yan Qingruo from any shock.

Lin Ruxi noticed. Her brows furrowed. A one-year contract marriage—yet Xiao Xi seems far too invested.

All because Yan Qingruo was a beta? Was being a beta really so precious?

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Meanwhile, back at the Yan residence, the air felt suffocating.

Butler Ivy paced anxiously in the living room, casting wary glances as though guarding against something unseen. Yan Qingruo’s unease sharpened; her instincts told her something was wrong.

“Ah Yun left in such a hurry. What really happened?” she pressed, eyes fixed on Ivy.

“No… it’s really nothing, Madam,” Ivy stammered, her eyes shifting evasively, never daring to meet Yan Qingruo’s gaze. Jin Yunxi had told her to close the curtains, but the reporters should have long since dispersed.

Yan Qingruo’s suspicion deepened. Taking advantage of Ivy’s distraction, she quickly moved to the desk—only to discover that both the laptop and the desktop were gone, and the curtains had been pulled tightly shut. A wave of unease rose in her chest.

Could something have happened to Ah Yun?

Then her eyes caught the television in the corner. She rushed over and switched it on before Ivy could stop her. The screen lit up—revealing the Queen’s press hall.

There stood Lin Ruxi, eyes gleaming like a hunting leopard’s, fixed on Jin Yunxi as though she was the most precious prey.

Yan Qingruo’s chest tightened. She knew that look—ambition, desire, hunger.

But wasn’t the Queen an Alpha? Rumors of Lin Ruxi’s indiscriminate tastes—Alpha, Omega, it didn’t matter—resurfaced in her mind.

On screen, the Queen’s hand landed on Jin Yunxi’s shoulder, fingers lingering, stroking lightly.

Jin Yunxi’s expression flickered, subtly shifting her stance. Lin Ruxi leaned close, voice low:

“Xiao Xi, shouldn’t you be thanking me properly this time? You know the promise you made—I haven’t forgotten.”

“Or… do you want me to revoke the gag order I just granted?” Her long nails grazed the back of Jin Yunxi’s neck, deliberately brushing the gland beneath the suppressant patch.

Her hand lingered there, both a mark of possession and an almost intimate embrace. Their figures overlapped in the camera’s eye.

Yan Qingruo arched a cold brow, a frosted mist forming in her peach blossom eyes.

She bit her lip until a faint crimson mark appeared. Then, with a slow flick of her tongue, she tasted the metallic tang.

“So what if she’s the Queen?”

Yan Qingruo lifted her gaze to Jin Yunxi, who was simultaneously handling the reporters and the Queen’s presence on the screen. Slowly, her pale fingers reached for the gauze at the nape of her neck. With a quiet but unyielding resolve, she tore it open. Crimson welled up instantly, sliding down her fair skin, yet she appeared utterly unaware.

Next, she picked up her phone and dialed Jin Yunxi.

The call connected. Her voice softened, sweet and languid, yet edged with hidden steel:

“Wife… the wound from earlier really hurts. Can you come home now?”

Yan Qingruo’s voice carried crisply through the receiver, reaching Queen Lin Ruxi, who now stood beside Jin Yunxi.

Afterward, Yan Qingruo reclined languidly on the sofa, her posture alluring, fingers idly playing with her phone as her gaze remained locked on the television. Lin Ruxi’s eyes, sharp and frigid like a hunting eagle in the winter night, flicked toward the camera.

But Yan Qingruo, staring straight at the queen on the screen, showed not the slightest trace of fear. Instead, she curved her lips into a smile, crossed her legs, and lifted her brows in silent provocation.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. Ah Yun is my Alpha.” She is my wife.