After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 25

The café.

Yan Qingruo sipped her coffee, and through the rippling surface of the porcelain cup, her mind involuntarily replayed the scene from yesterday—the moment inside the car when Jin Yunxi had leaned in and kissed her of her own accord.

How long had they lingered there? Fifteen minutes, perhaps.

Her cheeks flushed, a rosy glow spreading like a sunset across the horizon—bright and breathtaking.

Sitting across from her, Lu Ge caught the look of absentmindedness on her friend’s face. She instantly understood, lips curving into a teasing smile.

“Well, well, Qingruo—what are you thinking about that’s got your cheeks this red? Something good, I bet?”

Startled by the teasing, Yan Qingruo grew even more flustered. Her eyes darted away, and she forced a calm tone.

“Mm… maybe the coffee’s too hot.”

She waved her hand lightly as though to fan away the heat on her face.

“Please, don’t pretend. This has to do with Secretary-General Jin, doesn’t it? Did she do something that made you shy?” Lu Ge pressed, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Her head was already full of eighteen-plus scenarios, all suggestive poses and daring ideas.

Yan Qingruo could only give a helpless smile. Knowing there was no fooling her, she lowered her gaze and admitted in a voice barely above a mosquito’s hum:

“She… she kissed me in the car.”

And only then did the embarrassment truly wash over her—forgetting entirely that she had been the one to provoke Jin Yunxi first.

“That’s it?!” Lu Ge practically shouted, drawing glances from nearby tables. She didn’t care in the least and went on, “You’ve been married for a year, and that’s all you’ve got?”

Something’s off. Why is Yan Qingruo acting like a college girl in her very first crush?

She’s practically a different person.

The steam rising from her cup blurred her vision. Although she had shared a bed with Jin Yunxi last night, the boldness she’d shown in the car—the teasing words, the little act of seduction—had already drained her courage. Shame now flooded in belatedly.

She’d curled herself tightly into the blankets. She’d tried to tempt, only to end up being kissed instead. Yet even the kiss hadn’t been enough—it had only left her more restless, more painfully aware of her own body’s response.

Damp. Heated.

And the instigator? Completely unfazed. After sparking the fire, she didn’t bother putting it out. Instead, she glanced at her once in mild confusion, then turned over, finished reading a few documents in bed, and fell fast asleep—peaceful as a well-fed cat.

Yan Qingruo bit her lip, a faint ache in her chest. Could it be… the seven-year itch, arriving years ahead of schedule?

Lu Ge was stunned.

“What! You mean ever since you lost your memory, she hasn’t touched you?”

Her brows knit.

“But she’s an SS-ranked Alpha. She should have stamina to spare. Don’t tell me… she’s impotent?”

Yan Qingruo shook her head. She’d read Jin Yunxi’s medical report—her glands were half-damaged, making her incapable of marking. But otherwise, that ability shouldn’t have been affected.

She wasn’t an Omega, she didn’t need marking. Yet somehow, Jin Yunxi really didn’t seem to feel anything for her.

For once, the great beauty looked a little dejected.

Lu Ge gnawed her lip, deeply worried for her friend. Finally, she slapped her thigh in determination.

“Ruoruo, I’m going to share some resources with you. Make sure you study these carefully!”

Dazed, Yan Qingruo blinked at the flood of links—“P-site,” “Bubble-18,” shady shop recommendations. She was about to click when Lu Ge caught her hand.

“No, no! Not here, not now!”

Lu Ge sighed. Truly, love makes fools of the wisest. The Yan Qingruo she remembered from university had never been this ditzy. One bout of amnesia, and she was like those jokes about pregnancy making women silly for three years.

Back then, she had been the campus belle of Qingya University, the untouchable flower on the highest peak—except…

A shadow surfaced in Lu Ge’s mind.

“Time flies. We’ve been out of university for so many years. Do you still remember our classmates?”

“Mm, I remember.”

“Right,” Lu Ge suddenly recalled, “do you remember Shu Xiyue? That top student—beautiful, brilliant. She was the dream girl of so many Omegas and Betas. But I heard she later differentiated as an S-ranked Omega, and after that, she wasn’t so high-profile anymore. Supposedly, she even went abroad.”

At the mention of Shu Xiyue, something flickered across Yan Qingruo’s eyes. She frowned slightly, searching her memories.

“…I have some impression, but it’s been so long. I don’t recall the details. Why bring her up now?”

Lu Ge leaned closer, her expression conspiratorial.

“I only heard recently—she’s back in Yacheng. And she has achieved quite a lot in the medical field. Back then, everyone used to say you two were together. Were you?”

Yan Qingruo instinctively bit her lip and whispered, “No.”

But flashes of memory danced in her mind: clear eyes, a face like moonlight and spring breeze.

“Ruoruo, promise me you won’t forget me,” the graceful girl had said, hugging her. “In the future, whenever you need me, I’ll come. I’ll stand by you.”

“And… I hope all your wishes come true.”

It sounded just like the earnest vows of a second female lead in a drama. But they had only been friends… hadn’t they?

Yan Qingruo pressed a hand to her forehead, a dull ache throbbing. She didn’t want to dig further with Lu Ge, but her thoughts had already drifted. She remembered Jin Yunxi’s strange reaction whenever Shu Xiyue’s name came up.

On WeChat, Shu Xiyue had already told her she’d returned to the country, even expressed a wish to meet. Yan Qingruo still hadn’t replied.

________________________________________

Meanwhile, in the Secretary-General’s office at the Royal Palace of Yatran.

Jin Yunxi rubbed her temples, a faint headache brewing.

The Queen really was petty.

She couldn’t tell if it was coincidence or punishment, but Lin Ruxi’s words still echoed in her mind: If you ever mark another Omega, or fall in love with another Omega, I’ll kill you.

What did that even mean? If she liked Omegas, she could only like her? No sleeping with others, no marking, no children—or else, death?

Lin Ruxi was obsessed with this point.

It was as if the only reason she could tolerate losing to Yan Qingruo was because Yan was a Beta.

Absurd. Ridiculous. As if she’d ever go around marking another Omega.

Now that she knew the Queen’s greatest secret—that Lin Ruxi herself was an Omega—she could be certain of one thing: she’d never fall for her.

And yet, was the Queen still holding a grudge?

Why else would her Intelligence Department suddenly be stripped from her, reassigned to Prime Minister Wei Ailun?

Without it, information flow would be cut off. Rubbing her brow again, she turned her gaze to the ever-reliable Yalan Television News.

“Secretary-General, madam is running for Chief Anchor at the station,” her assistant Jin Fan reported.

A giant question mark hovered above Jin Yunxi’s head. Yan Qingruo had always stayed behind the scenes—why the sudden desire to be on camera?

All the station directors had once started as anchors. Was she aiming for the director’s seat?

Inside the competition hall of Yalan TV, the atmosphere was tense. Under the blinding lights, candidates wore taut expressions, nerves hanging thick in the air.

All except one.

One breathtaking beauty stood out, poised and serene.

When the others’ eyes landed on her, a wave of unease surged through them. Why bother competing at all, with her in the running?

Yan Qingruo wore a fitted white suit-dress, her long hair styled in soft waves. Her skin was luminous under the stage lights, her light amber-brown eyes sparkling with quiet confidence. The dignified makeup only accentuated her allure. No wonder people called her Yacheng’s number one beauty.

But her candidacy wasn’t without challenge.

“Hmph. The only reason she’s here is her background. She has been behind the camera for years—her anchor skills must be rusty. You can’t just get by on looks.”

“Secretary-General’s wife, the Yan family’s eldest daughter—who can compete with that?” one candidate sneered.

“Exactly. There’s got to be an inside deal. No way she got this far on talent alone,” another added, jealousy thick in their tone.

Every scathing word reached Yan Qingruo’s ears. She only raised a brow, expression unbothered, though her fingers tightened slightly around her script.

She had stepped into the spotlight not only for her career, but to ease Jin Yunxi’s burdens—to stay closer to her, to stand just a little nearer.

Even if she couldn’t yet reach the same height, she wanted, when lifting her gaze, to be where Jin Yunxi could see her.

The station director rubbed his hands nervously.

“Miss Yan, your participation is an honor for us, but the positions are full. Perhaps you could consider other opportunities? We’d be happy to offer you an N+24 package.”

On the surface, he was flattering her. In reality, he was trying to push her out—bribery wrapped in politeness.

Wei Ailun gave him a look: pay her off, give the anchor seat to someone else.

With the director’s statement, the whispers grew louder, more brazen.

“Madam Jin, wouldn’t it be better to just go back and help the Secretary-General with paperwork? This place is too small for you.”

The words dripped with mockery.

“Yeah, with Miss Yan here like some high and mighty Buddha, competing with us for the anchor position… she might as well just go home and have the Secretary-General’s baby.”

A sour voice muttered deliberately loud enough for Yan Qingruo to hear.

——Bang! The main doors burst open.

Jin Yunxi was wheeled in by her assistant Jin Fan, followed by a column of secretariat auditors in dark suits and glasses, exuding an intimidating air more like bodyguards than clerks.

The station director’s knees nearly buckled at the sight. These weren’t ordinary staff—they were government auditors, specialists in tax reviews. Cold sweat beaded his forehead, dripping straight down.

Jin Yunxi carried a razor-sharp aura, long hair tied back loosely, a few stray strands brushing against her pale face. Her phoenix eyes were fathomless, sweeping the room with a chilling glance.

Those who had just been mocking and sneering froze mid-smile, faces stiffening in alarm.

The director forced out two dry chuckles, spine instinctively bowing.

“Secretary-General Jin, what a surprise… About Miss Yan’s candidacy—everyone just had… differing opinions…”

Jin Yunxi’s lips parted, her voice soft but heavy with authority:

“Differing opinions? What I see is deliberate obstruction.”

Her gaze was sharp as a blade, stabbing straight into the hearts of those who had voiced doubts moments earlier. Their faces drained of color, eyes darting away as their bodies shrank back.

When her eyes shifted to Yan Qingruo, however, her expression softened. She lifted her chin toward her, voice low and steady:

“Qingruo, draw one piece of international news. Show them.”

Meeting her gaze, Yan Qingruo gave a small nod, drew a breath, and walked confidently toward the ballot box.

She unfolded a slip of paper, fingertips grazing its edge, then stepped into the center of the stage. The spotlight fell across her figure.

She began speaking. Her voice was crisp and precise, the broadcast and analysis seamless. Switching fluently across three languages, she wove facts and interpretation together, her remarkable memory carrying the flow without pause.

At first, whispers rippled through the audience. But as her analysis deepened, silence took over. Only her clear, resonant voice filled the hall.

Leaning back in her wheelchair, Jin Yunxi tapped the armrest rhythmically, her eyes unconsciously softened with appreciation. The restlessness gnawing at her since morning seemed to wash away, soothed by the cadence of Qingruo’s voice.

When the broadcast ended, there was a heartbeat of silence—then thunderous applause. The director led the clapping, striding forward with a broad smile:

“It was our mistake, not recognizing true talent. With this level of skill, Madam Jin is unquestionably worthy of being our chief anchor!”

Jin Yunxi’s brows drew together.

“Call her Miss Yan. Before she is my wife, she is first and foremost Miss Yan.”

Qingruo’s eyes sparkled. From the moment Yunxi had entered, her gaze had never strayed, not even during the broadcast.

Jin Yunxi turned back to the crowd, raising a brow:

“Now—does anyone still object?”

Heads shook furiously. No one dared utter a word.

Her voice rang clear:

“You accuse her of relying on connections? Fine. She is relying on mine. But even if you had the same connections—would you have her ability?”

The hall fell utterly silent.

“Respectfully sending off the Secretary-General.”

“Respectfully sending off Miss Yan.”

The auditors lingered.

“Director, the Secretary-General has instructed us to review your station’s accounts for the past three years.”

The director’s legs went weak. He had skimmed off seconds from countless ad slots—seconds that were all money. Darkness closed in, and he collapsed in a faint.

________________________________________

On the way home, Jin Yunxi hardly spoke. That biting aura of hers lingered, frost clinging close to her form.

In the car, the two sat side by side in the back seat. Yan Qingruo’s faint, elegant fragrance seeped into Yunxi’s senses, slowly grounding her thoughts.

But Qingruo’s heart fluttered uneasily like a caged rabbit. Would Ah Yun blame her for competing for the anchor position? Lu Ge had once told her that Jin Yunxi didn’t like her being in the public eye.

Once home, Qingruo deliberately sat a little farther away. Only then did Yunxi’s taut composure finally ease, her mind having raced nonstop with state and corporate affairs all day.

“Why did you decide to compete for chief anchor?” Yunxi finally asked, her tone still tinged with work’s severity.

“I wanted to try something new… and also, to help Ah Yun.” Qingruo’s eyes were sincere, her voice earnest.

At that, Yunxi’s heart gave a sharp tremor. The pressure weighing on her since morning dissipated in an instant.

She had been fighting alone for so long. Winters had grown colder; the higher she climbed, the lonelier it became. Even family required vigilance—never someone to lean on.

Qingruo’s intent felt like snow melting into spring water, soft and warming.

Yunxi lifted her hand, curling a finger in invitation.

“Come here.”

Qingruo didn’t move. Younger by three years, yet Yunxi still wore that stern, prematurely mature mask. It amused her—yet she found it endearing.

She thought to herself: My Alpha—calculating and steady in her work, yet still so unpracticed and raw in love. The contradiction is irresistible.

“Really not coming?” Yunxi’s lips curved slyly. Her long fingers brushed slowly across her own thigh.

“You asked me once where the Queen had touched me. I left something out.”

She paused, drawing out the suspense.

“When you video-called me, she wasn’t just holding my hand—she was sitting on my lap.”

The moment the words landed, Qingruo’s delicate brows furrowed, her eyes flashing with irritation. How could this Alpha speak of such things so shamelessly?

Yunxi patted her thigh lightly, her voice soft as velvet.

“Come here.” Then added with a teasing lilt: “Wife, sit with me, won’t you?”

The single word—wife—melted Qingruo’s resolve. She obeyed, settling onto Yunxi’s lap.

“Sorry she touched me.” Yunxi wrapped her gently in her arms, breathing in the woman’s intoxicating scent.

“So… will Miss Anchor let your fragrance cover over hers?”

She learned quickly. After so long with Qingruo, she had picked up her playful banter. Not as skilled, perhaps, but effective enough.

Especially since Qingruo had seemed a little wary of her ever since leaving the station—this was the only way to coax her back.

Feigning displeasure, Qingruo asked, “And just what scent do you think I carry?”

“Fragrance,” Yunxi replied instantly.

“Oh? And whose fragrance?” she pressed.

“You, Yan Qingruo.” No hesitation.

Qingruo huffed, “And who is Yan Qingruo?”

Yunxi arched a brow. “Ruoruo.”

Qingruo leaned close, teeth nipping at her Alpha’s ear, tongue flicking wickedly across the lobe.

“And who is Ruoruo? I don’t know her. Tell me—what is she to the mighty Secretary-General Jin, hmm?”

Her voice curled at the edges, whispering against Yunxi’s ear.

Yunxi surrendered, steadying Qingruo’s waist as she answered hoarsely,

“She’s my wife.”

“But your wife is very angry right now.” Qingruo’s fingers pinched softly at Yunxi’s waist. “So, Secretary Jin, how do you plan to make it up to me?”

She thought of last night, when no amount of teasing had cracked Yunxi’s composure. Yet now, here she was, shamelessly admitting another woman had sat on her lap. Qingruo’s heart tightened with jealousy.

“How should I make it up to you?” Yunxi asked, then inspiration struck. She leaned in and brushed a feather-light kiss against Qingruo’s forehead.

Qingruo’s fingers curled, dissatisfied. She tugged at Yunxi’s lips, fingertips rubbing against them lingeringly.

“Just a kiss? That’s not nearly enough.”

The curtains were drawn… Shouldn’t there be more? She thought of the “18+” resources Lu Ge had sent her, words dripping with suggestion bubbling shyly in her mind. Maybe… try it?

Yunxi feigned innocence, though her heartbeat thundered.

“And what else should we do?”

Qingruo’s peach blossom eyes narrowed slightly, shimmering with allure.

She leaned in, arms twining around Yunxi’s neck, warm breath ghosting over her ear, making her tremble.

Her slender fingers traced from Yunxi’s shoulder, trailing slowly down her spine, brushing each vertebra. The practiced poise of a professional anchor now carried a sultry, intoxicating note—

“I want to make Ah Yun smell sweet… but even more, I want Ah Yun to make me dirty.”