After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 17

Just as their lips were about to meet, Jin Yunxi’s phone rang, shattering the intimate atmosphere.

She had never picked up a call so hastily.

Balancing the phone against her ear, she couldn’t help glancing sideways at Yan Qingruo’s face—like a little cat sulking because she hadn’t gotten her favorite treat.

And while Jin Yunxi was answering, Yan Qingruo wasn’t exactly being well-behaved either; she leaned in to press a soft kiss on the fingers Jin Yunxi held the phone with.

“Alright, that’s settled then.” Jin Yunxi quickly ended the call, eyes flicking to her watch. “Qingruo, I have to go.”

Yan Qingruo: …

________________________________________

When work ended, her assistant asked cautiously, “The car’s ready. Will you be heading home, ma’am?”

Then, after a pause, she added in a low voice, “Madam went home three hours ago. She said she’d wait for you there.”

Three hours earlier, Jin Yunxi had used work as an excuse to send Yan Qingruo home. She truly did have matters to handle—but by the time she finished, night had already fallen.

Jin Yunxi hesitated. “Wait a little longer.”

Her fingers brushed the back of her neck, as if she could still feel the warmth from Yan Qingruo’s hand earlier. A mix of restlessness and loss welled up.

What was she even grieving over? Hadn’t she wanted Yan Qingruo not to recover her memories too quickly? Of course she did.

Yet at her desk, the only thing flashing through her mind wasn’t the project file but Yan Qingruo’s face.

Her assistant waited another hour. Feeling guilty, Jin Yunxi finally dismissed her: “You can go ahead. I’ll work late.”

The assistant left nervously, and with her gone, no one else in the company dared to clock out either. Exasperated, Jin Yunxi left the building and sat in her car, frowning slightly. She didn’t know how to face Yan Qingruo.

Half an hour ago, she had received a message:

“Ah Yun, when will you be home tonight? I cooked all your favorites.”

Her reply had been: “There’s a family gathering tonight. Don’t wait, eat first.”

It was a lie.

By the time she dragged herself home, it was already eleven.

The household robot tilted its head, greeting cheerfully, “Welcome home, Master.”

“Shh,” Jin Yunxi hushed it immediately. “Don’t wake her.”

She knew exactly who “her” was. Yet when it was just the two of them, she still couldn’t bring herself to say the word wife.

Pressing her lips together, she admitted to herself that she had deliberately ignored Yan Qingruo’s texts for hours. Down to the exact minutes. She remembered because she cared—too much.

She knew she was neglecting her.

It was deliberate. A reminder to herself not to sink too deeply into Yan Qingruo’s closeness.

At the dining table, dishes she loved were laid out, reheated more than once, still covered to keep warm. Untouched.

Yan Qingruo had clearly waited long, until disappointment finally drove her upstairs.

Jin Yunxi picked up the chopsticks and tasted a bite. The familiar flavor stunned her.

Every dish was one she had mentioned only in passing.

Once, before a banquet, Yan Qingruo had asked what she usually ate at such occasions. She had sent her a few casual pictures. Some of the dishes were complicated, others were intricate pastries—skills that took real effort to learn.

The proud Jin Yunxi felt a sharp dissonance inside.

Yan Qingruo had no reason to go to such lengths. Before her memory loss, her attitude had been nothing like this. That had been her true feelings.

Her steps grew heavy as she opened the bedroom door. Empty. She exhaled in relief, assuming Yan Qingruo must have gone to her own room.

But the pillow belonging to Yan Qingruo was still on their shared bed. If she hadn’t taken it, where was she sleeping?

A sudden chill gripped her chest. Had Yan Qingruo sensed her coldness and left?

Panicked, she hurried upstairs, her uneven steps echoing like her frantic heartbeat.

In the study, a warm amber light glowed. Yan Qingruo was asleep at the desk again, her delicate shoulders uncovered, brown curls spilling softly down, beautiful even in disarray.

The desk was piled high with medical texts and research materials about her leg condition.

As if sensing her presence, Yan Qingruo stirred and murmured:

“Ah Yun, don’t worry… you’ll get better.”

“No matter what, it’s alright. I’ll stay with you, take care of you.”

“Don’t be sad.”

“Ah Yun, don’t leave me. Don’t ignore my messages.”

Her words pierced Jin Yunxi like blades. She smoothed a hand over the woman’s soft hair, heart aching.

She had always been a cold, lonely moon, illuminating only herself. From her illness, from her mother’s departure, her life had always been incomplete. Broken. She found fleeting solace only in chanting scriptures, burning incense.

Now her ambition—the Jin family corporation, her bid for Secretary-General, even her arranged marriage with someone she barely knew—all of it had been her way to endure.

She could stomach rejection, pain, disability, even abandonment.

But she couldn’t stomach Yan Qingruo’s kindness.

Because that kindness, that love, was never meant for her.

It was for the shadow of someone else.

Compared to her fleeting romance with Yan Qingmei, which had felt like child’s play, this… this was dangerous.

What if one day, Yan Qingruo regained her memory—only to despise her, to regret every intimacy they’d shared?

That possibility terrified her more than anything.

Yet she couldn’t help it. Like a moth craving warmth, she still sought the fragile light outside her cold monastery walls.

So why couldn’t she be selfish—just for tonight?

Why couldn’t she accept Yan Qingruo’s kiss, respond, indulge just once?

Every day since her change, Yan Qingruo had been a revelation—like opening a book of treasures, each page revealing something new.

Quietly, Jin Yunxi fetched a blanket and planned to sleep beside her.

After all, the doctor had said pseudo-Omega symptoms required Alpha closeness. A perfect excuse.

Opening the wardrobe, she spotted a familiar book. The cover was her favorite title. But inside—it wasn’t a novel at all.

It was Yan Qingruo’s diary.

On the latest page, little hearts covered the margins: “Tonight, Ah Yun picked fish bones out for me. Her lashes are so long—I wanted to kiss her.”

Her lips curved faintly.

But further back, one year ago, the entry was cold: “Day 17 of the substitute marriage. Jin Yunxi smashed a teacup. The shards cut my ankle. She didn’t look back.”

The blanket in her hands slipped soundlessly to the floor.

The night felt colder.

Later, alone in her room, she spread out Yan Qingruo’s medical reports. Tomorrow, she would hand them over.

Tomorrow, she would also transfer fifty million to Yan Qingruo’s account.

And then—divorce. No more pointless entanglements.

She would heal her. But she would never let her close again.

Yet despite those words, she left the bedroom door ajar, harboring an unconscious, secret hope.

________________________________________

She dreamed of Yan Qingruo sneering, stabbing her, calling her a liar.

Startled awake, she felt a soft body clinging tightly to her. The faint scent of tuberose. She knew instantly who it was. Yan Qingruo must have been sleepwalking.

“Ah Yun… do you hate me?”

Her voice was choked, fragile in the midnight quiet.

Her hand stroked Jin Yunxi’s cheek, hot tears falling onto her skin like fire.

“Do you hate my clinginess? Or… have you fallen for someone else?”

Each word hooked directly into her heart.

Moonlight carved out Yan Qingruo’s delicate features, luminous yet wounded, vulnerability dimming her usual brightness.

Jin Yunxi opened her mouth to explain, but Yan Qingruo cut her off.

In the study, Yan Qingruo had found a specimen: a dried rose. Beside it, a note: “For the one I love, M. Book title: YX.”

A torch thrown into gasoline, igniting jealous fury.

“You can only answer yes or no.”

No evasions.

When she asked about her first kiss, Jin Yunxi blinked, then shook her head slightly.

That tiny gesture detonated everything.

Yan Qingruo took it to mean—her first kiss had not been with her.

“Oh? Was she that good? So unforgettable that Ah Yun still yearns for her?” Her gaze turned sharp, dangerous.

Jin Yunxi recalled Yan Qingruo’s own clumsy, damp kisses, and almost involuntarily, she nodded.

A mistake.

Yan Qingruo’s eyes flooded with mist. So that was why she had avoided kissing her lately—because she was thinking of another.

“Ah Yun, I’m angry. And jealous.”

Her tear-damp eyes gleamed, shadowed and mesmerizing. She clutched Jin Yunxi’s back through her shirt, nails biting into skin.

Jin Yunxi tilted her head, trying to explain, but Yan Qingruo silenced her with a trembling, stubborn kiss.

Like a wounded kitten, she bit down clumsily, lips wet, desperate.

Then her hand pressed down against Jin Yunxi’s injured leg, pinning her.

And still, it wasn’t enough—she bit harder.

Pain shot through her.

A tug—and Jin Yunxi’s blouse slipped off her shoulders.

Her eyes widened. Secrets she had hidden for so long were suddenly laid bare. Yan Qingruo’s fingers brushed the inhibitor patch on her nape—and tore it away.

Not just the patch.

Confusion flickered in Yan Qingruo’s eyes. She had no experience with other Alphas, only shallow impressions.

But in her mind, it twisted into something else—her grievance swelling. “Ah Yun… do you really feel nothing for me anymore?”

An Alpha in null phase had no pheromones, no heat.

She had kissed her so intensely, and still—nothing?

Her hand caressed Jin Yunxi’s cheek, desperate for a response.

To Jin Yunxi, it felt like mockery.

Fury surged. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Yan Qingruo, enough!”

She was done. Done with all of it.

Their marriage had been a contract—nothing more.

Why had she let herself grow soft? Why had she almost believed this charade?

She stood abruptly, rifling through the piles of documents with shaking hands. Finally, she yanked out the medical report and flung it at Yan Qingruo.

This game of make-believe—was over.