After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 2

After the intermission, the press conference quickly moved into its second half. A fresh wave of reporters filled the hall, and the questions resumed.

Yan Qingruo had come in place of a friend who couldn’t make it. To avoid being harassed by Jin Yunxi’s relentless calls, she’d switched her phone to silent the moment she entered.

Standing at the entrance, she cautiously swept her gaze around the venue. Only when she confirmed that there was no familiar figure in sight did she allow herself a small breath of relief.

Since their marriage, bound by contract and for other reasons she preferred not to name, she had rarely refused Jin Yunxi. But now, with only one month left until their divorce, her time was running out.

A flicker of curiosity crossed her mind—what would Jin Yunxi’s face look like at this moment? Would she be scowling in shock, lips parted? More likely, utterly expressionless.

Yan Qingruo adjusted the small metal microphone clipped to her collar. Outside the confines of the Jin residence, her mood felt lighter, unshackled. Yet she had barely stepped inside when a throng of reporters surged forward, squeezing her into the rear of the hall.

Such a spectacle—was the queen herself about to appear?

“Regarding Her Majesty’s decision to initiate diplomatic talks with Country C, there are several key reasons… Of course, I will also assist in drafting follow-up proposals on her behalf.”

From the back, the voice sounded strangely familiar. When the speaker began announcing new welfare policies, the reporters around her broke into applause.

“Secretary Jin is truly remarkable!”

“Yes, aside from her leg injury, she’s practically flawless. To achieve so much at just twenty-seven—it makes one envy her wife.”

“I heard her wife is only twenty-six, and an S-class Omega. She and the Secretary make the perfect match!”

“Ugh, those women over thirty still daring to covet the Secretary—publishing public confessions, stuffing love letters into the palace like it’s a giant message board!”

Yan Qingruo’s lips twitched. At thirty herself, she felt thoroughly insulted.

Someone else chimed in: “So what if she has trouble walking? It only adds to her allure. Like the broken beauty of Venus de Milo—Secretary Jin leaning on a cane has its own kind of devastating charm.”

The clear, cool voice struck Yan Qingruo’s ears with force. She froze—she hadn’t expected Jin Yunxi to be here. Immediately, she lowered her head.

The golden chandeliers reflected a cold gleam off Jin Yunxi’s glasses.

Just as Yan Qingruo was shrinking back into the shadows, sudden applause from the front startled her into retreating a step.

Jin Yunxi narrowed her eyes. “The lady in the chiffon blouse, third row.”

Her slender fingers tapped the microphone stand, the pale-blue Buddhist beads brushing against the metal with a crisp sound.

Every gaze in the hall turned to pierce Yan Qingruo like a spotlight.

Her fingers twitched at the frame of her disguise glasses. Behind the lenses, her amber eyes flickered with panic.

She was too beautiful. Even beneath her disguise, the ripple of unease in her gaze shimmered like water, drawing every eye to her.

“Wow, which outlet is she from? She’s stunning!”

“Those eyes… didn’t we see them at the Jin family’s year-end gala? Unforgettable.”

“She’s so slim… doesn’t she look a bit like Yan Qingmei?”

The rising voices pushed her forward a half-step, and suddenly—the second button of her silk blouse popped loose.

Jin Yunxi’s gaze lingered on the rogue button that rolled to the edge of the podium. With the tip of her cane, she nudged it lightly.

“Hold on.” She stopped Yan Qingruo just as she was about to slip away. “This lady reporter—why don’t you ask the next question?”

Caught off guard, Yan Qingruo blinked innocently. The tiny red mole beneath her lower lashline shifted with her blink, exuding an unconscious allure.

In an instant, the cameras and envious stares of the press locked onto her.

Yan Qingruo managed a faint smile, raising her hand to her brow in mock fatigue, trying to shield herself. “The Secretary’s answers are flawless. I have nothing to ask.”

A gossip columnist grew impatient and seized the chance: “Secretary Jin, will your wife be attending tonight’s banquet? We haven’t seen her.”

They were referring to the so-called ‘Rose of the Yan Family,’ the second daughter, Yan Qingmei.

Yes—why hadn’t she appeared? Before marriage, she was always eager to show her face.

Rumors had it that Yan Qingmei also had an elder Beta sister—reclusive, born neither of the main wife nor the official concubine. Aside from her looks, she paled in comparison to her glamorous younger sister.

Jin Yunxi did not answer the reporter. Instead, she cast a meaningful look at Yan Qingruo, amusement flashing in her eyes. “She will.”

Gasps of surprise rippled across the room. And then, slowly, Jin Yunxi added, unleashing a tidal wave of speculation:

“Within ten minutes, my wife will be here. When she arrives, I ask all of you not to crowd her. She’s shy, and easily frightened.”

The reporters burst into laughter. So much for professionalism—this was a live display of Jin Yunxi’s indulgent devotion. Since the wedding, her wife had rarely appeared in public, hidden away like a treasure.

Rumors had begun to swirl—divorce, affairs, political scandal. Rivals made hay of it.

Yan Qingruo: …

Her fingers tightened. Had she been discovered? Or… could it be that her sister Yan Qingmei had returned? Impossible.

Her lips curved into a faint, mocking smile, recalling how Jin Yunxi had once idly remarked in private: “The elder sister isn’t worth a single strand of the younger’s hair.”

Tonight, however, the woman at the podium was nothing like the fragile figure at home. Leaning on her cane yet standing tall, eloquent, razor-sharp—she dismantled the most aggressive reporters with calm precision.

Velvet words with a blade beneath them. Frailty weaponized into lethal elegance.

Only Yan Qingruo knew how venomous that tongue could be. The thought of it whispering sweet nothings was unimaginable—more like fuel for nightmares.

She remembered once, after their marriage, a friend visiting Jin Manor had complimented her in the garden: “Miss Yan is truly beautiful.”

Jin Yunxi hadn’t replied. Instead, she lifted a porcelain vase and, with polite indifference, remarked, “Mm, suitable for display in the house.”

Yan Qingruo had overheard. When Jin Yunxi turned, she caught her smiling sweetly, as if nothing had happened. “Shall we invite our guest to stay for dinner? Would you like me to cook?”

________________________________________

Back at the press conference, the microphone eventually made its way to Yan Qingruo’s hands.

She raised the recorder to her lips, deliberately lowering her voice. “Secretary Jin, how do you balance royal duties with—”

Her words were drowned out by the flurry of camera shutters. One lens zoomed in on the tiny beauty mark at her collarbone.

Jin Yunxi’s brows knitted. Her gaze cut toward the offending outlet. “Does X Magazine have a question?”

Thrilled at being named, the tabloid reporter turned his lens. “Rather than your political ambitions, we’re more curious—why do you wear both your prayer beads and your ring on your right hand? And the ‘Q’ engraved on that ring—does it stand for your wife, or your lover?”

They had long noticed the subtle undercurrent between Secretary Jin and the mysterious reporter, eager to spin gossip from it.

The hall erupted in uproar. Jin Yunxi, unhurried, turned the silver ring on her finger, brushing over the engraved Q. She remained silent, lost in thought.

On the projector, her enlarged face revealed nothing—until suddenly, she unclipped the microphone from her collar.

“Because… my left hand is meant to hold the one who matters.”

With that, she straightened and descended the stage.

“Good evening, Miss Yan Qingmei,” she murmured, enunciating each syllable at Yan Qingruo’s ear.

Who was the ‘Q’? Who was this woman? The speculation spread like wildfire. Reporters held their breath.

Jin Yunxi bent down, unclasping the lanyard of Yan Qingruo’s press badge. Her microphone clip fastened neatly over the gaping seam of Yan Qingruo’s blouse.

Click. The improvised fastening concealed her accidental exposure with effortless grace.

Her long fingers ghosted across Yan Qingruo’s collarbone—never quite touching, yet sending a cool shiver across her skin. Her breath hitched under the Alpha’s quiet focus.

Once the button was secured, Jin Yunxi’s expression remained calm. “The ten minutes are up.” She extended her left hand, lacing their fingers together. Turning to the crowd, she declared:

“Everyone, this is Miss Yan. My wife.”

In an instant, the hall exploded in a storm of flashing lights.