After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 33

“Yunxi-jie, so you’re here?”

A crisp, coquettish voice suddenly rang out in the bar.

“You came back to the country and didn’t even tell me?”

The woman’s arrival was like a stone cast into an already unsettled lake, sending ripples surging in all directions.

She wore a fitted black dress with an asymmetrical hemline that, with each step, revealed glimpses of her pale, slender calves. Her long hair was streaked with highlights, a few strands falling playfully across her cheeks.

Everyone’s gaze immediately shifted toward her, then instinctively flicked to Yan Qingruo—and in that instant, eyes widened in shock.

The two looked strikingly alike, as though carved from the same mold.

But on closer inspection, Yan Qingruo’s teardrop-shaped beauty mark beneath her left eye became the subtle finishing touch—lending her a unique allure that the newcomer lacked. Her entire bearing was more refined, her presence more luminous.

If flowers were the metaphor: Yan Qingruo was a living bloom, vivid and intoxicating in fragrance. This woman, though carefully groomed, seemed more like an imitation—pretty, but without vitality. To the unknowing eye, however, they might easily be mistaken as the same person.

Jin Yunxi’s gaze sank in an instant. “Yan Qingmei.”

Everyone instinctively hunched their shoulders—her look was sharp enough to kill.

Her eyes held the weight of a blade, as if she longed to hack into pieces whoever had tipped this woman off.

She had fled before their wedding. For all the days she had needed her, Yan Qingmei had vanished completely, as if evaporated from the world. And now, here she was—suddenly reappearing with an innocent expression, as though the past had been erased.

Louis raised his hands in mock surrender, silently declaring it wasn’t him. No one knew which meddler had stirred up trouble by inviting Jin Yunxi’s ex.

Yan Qingmei, for her part, showed not the slightest awareness of how an “ex” ought to behave.

Li Qing, ever sociable, hooked her arm through Yan Qingmei’s and chirped, “Well, if it isn’t Miss Yan, the so-called white moonlight of our Ah-Jin’s life.”

“What were you all just talking about?” Yan Qingmei slipped right in, even bolder than Li Qing. She turned toward Yan Qingruo. “Hi, jiejie. Long time no see.”

Yan Qingruo’s eyes sharpened, sweeping over the younger sister she had always been at odds with, then shifting to Jin Yunxi’s reaction—the scene before her playing like a reunion between old lovers.

She said nothing, sitting with graceful poise, but her aura was shadowed, heavy.

The earlier game’s answer—and the crowd’s response to the words “white moonlight”—stabbed into her heart like a thorn.

Yan Qingmei caught Jin Yunxi’s weighted stare. Thousands of unsaid words tangled in her chest, yet she slipped with practiced ease into the seat beside her, laying a hand on the Alpha’s shoulder.

“Yunxi-jie, don’t you miss me at all? You’ve barely reacted to seeing me.”

Jin Yunxi’s tone was ice. “Yan Qingmei, what on earth are you playing at?” She brushed the woman’s hand away. “Where have you been this past year?”

The onlookers perked up, glances darting slyly between the three women.

A proper shura field.

The moment the words left her lips, Jin Yunxi regretted them. Why did she sound so… invested? So inexplicably concerned? That wasn’t her intent at all.

Yan Qingmei only giggled. “I knew you’d still worry about me. You still care.” Then, with a smug tilt of her chin, she gestured toward Yan Qingruo. “Why not ask my dear sister?”

“What are you implying?” Yan Qingruo’s brows drew together.

Yan Qingmei feigned sudden realization. “Oh, that’s right—I forgot. You’ve lost your memory.” She lifted a hand to her mouth in false pity, sighing dramatically. “How unfortunate. Yunxi-jie will never know the whole of you.”

Her words, deliberately ambiguous, left Jin Yunxi utterly confused. Normally, she would have caught the undertones—but tonight, her whole mind was tangled with Yan Qingruo. The earlier game had nearly exposed their sham marriage.

What mattered most was: what would Yan Qingruo think of her now?

“Qingruo.” Jin Yunxi’s voice softened, coaxing. “Don’t overthink. Between me and Yan Qingmei, there’s nothing but—”

“Are we really married partners?” Yan Qingruo cut her off, her gaze burning into Jin Yunxi. “Or is it like Grandmother said—you and Yan Qingmei are the real ones?”

“Qingruo.” This time, Jin Yunxi’s tone was gentler still, searching for words. “Let me explain once we get home, alright?”

But Yan Qingruo’s chest was brimming with questions. Once, Yunxi had promised her—sworn—that she had nothing with Yan Qingmei, that everything between them was clean.

And yet, here at this reunion, everyone clearly took Yan Qingmei as Yunxi’s true white moonlight. As if she, Yan Qingruo, had never even existed in Yunxi’s life.

The game just now had struck her like a heavy blow. She had believed—naively—that before her amnesia, she and Yunxi must have shared countless nights of intimacy.

She had even comforted herself with excuses—that Yunxi was too busy, or too insecure about her disability, which was why this Alpha had always kept their marriage bed untouched.

But reality now mocked her cruelly. Since the day they married, they had never once consummated their bond. And all this time, she had foolishly, shamelessly tried to seduce her.

If not with her—then was it with her sister, Yan Qingmei?

The thought suffocated her. She could no longer stay here. Grabbing her bag, she rose to leave.

“Qingruo!” Yunxi’s reflexes were sharp; she seized her wrist. “Just give me one minute.”

Ignoring Yan Qingmei’s presence, she tightened her grip and pulled Yan Qingruo toward a private room next door.

“This one’s mine. No interruptions.”

“Yunxi-jie!” Yan Qingmei called after her. “I’ve been worried about you. Are you healthy now?”

Jin Yunxi’s reply was cold. “There’s nothing left for us to say.”

But Yan Qingmei, eyes tender, stepped forward and knelt before her. “Your legs… they’re healed? That’s wonderful.”

Her hand brushed over Yunxi’s knee. “Do you remember when we first met? You were in a wheelchair, and I sat at your side, comforting you?”

Jin Yunxi’s expression darkened. Late concern was worth less than weeds.

“Yan Qingmei, I owe you nothing. The day you vanished, our past ended as well.”

Fury burned across Yan Qingmei’s face. She leaned in close, whispering, “Yunxi-jie, Yan Qingruo is dangerous. You need to keep away from her. Be careful.”

To the onlookers, her murmuring appeared like intimate whispers—an image dripping with ambiguity.

Yan Qingruo cast them a frosty glance.

Yunxi’s brows knitted. She yanked herself free from Yan Qingmei’s grasp. “I don’t want to hear any more of your petty slander.”

Still determined to take Yan Qingruo away from this mess, she murmured a few words to Louis. He nodded knowingly.

“Don’t worry. Use the medical exam as an excuse to bring Miss Yan to the hospital. The medication will arrive by the time you’re back.”

Yunxi gave a bitter smile. Right now, though, with storm clouds written across Yan Qingruo’s face—she’d need to win her over first, before anything else.

Seeing she couldn’t sway Yunxi, Yan Qingmei shifted tactics, turning her gaze on her sister.

“Jiejie, I have something to tell you too.”

“Aren’t you curious how I knew your spare phone number? That backup phone of yours only has a handful of contacts stored. I’d wager not even Yunxi-jie has that privilege.”

Spare phone? The words jolted Yunxi—Qingruo had another phone?

“Sorry. I’m not interested.” Yan Qingruo’s tone was icy.

Yan Qingmei leaned closer, voice low, probing. “Don’t you want to know where your mother stands?”

Yan Qingruo’s gaze faltered slightly. “I know.”

Yan Qingmei smiled slyly. “But what if I told you… Mother is still alive?”

Yan Qingruo froze in her tracks, her expression trembling with emotion. “Where is she?”

Feigning mystery, Yan Qingmei crooned, “Come closer.”

Leaning toward her sister’s ear, she whispered a few words. “If you go now, you might still make it. Any later, I can’t promise you’ll ever see her again.”

“Qingruo, wait for me,” Jin Yunxi called out.

Louis handed over his car keys. “Janice, take my car.”

Jin Yunxi shot him a grateful look, then quickly caught up with Yan Qingruo. “We’ll drive. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

On the road, she confessed with uncharacteristic honesty. She admitted she was wrong to lie, admitted she had indeed dated Yan Qingmei once, but stressed there had been nothing substantial between them.

“For starters—there’s nothing else you’ve kept from me, is there?” After a long silence, Yan Qingruo suddenly asked, her voice sharp.

Jin Yunxi’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Her throat went dry. “Yan Qingruo, I was wrong to lie before. I was just afraid—afraid that if you knew I once dated your sister, you’d be upset… that you’d ignore me.”

Yan Qingruo asked quietly, “Did I know about this before I lost my memory?”

“…Mm,” Jin Yunxi murmured.

The tightness in Yan Qingruo’s chest loosened, the suffocating weight lifting slightly. Especially when she saw the pale, bloodless look on Jin Yunxi’s face—she realized, with a pang, that Jin Yunxi cared for her far more than she’d imagined.

That thought satisfied her, though her tone remained teasing and relentless. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. There’s still a debt to settle.”

“What debt?”

Yan Qingruo raised her hand and deliberately brushed her fingers over the back of her nape, right where her gland was. The meaning was unmistakable. Jin Yunxi nearly lost control of the wheel.

“Yan Qingruo!”
________________________________________

Song Mei’s location turned out to be at a multi-functional senior care facility. To their surprise, there was a cemetery within its grounds. At the innermost row of headstones, a photo of Song Mei stared back at them—the very same one that had been sent anonymously to Yan Qingruo’s spare phone.

So… Song Mei really was dead? Had Yan Qingmei deceived her? Yan Qingruo’s hand trembled as she stroked the photo on the tombstone, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Auntie wouldn’t want you to be so sad,” Jin Yunxi said softly, passing her a tissue.

“Ruo… Ruo?”

A wavering, elderly voice sounded from behind, calling her name in a strange, almost broken intonation.

Yan Qingruo spun around. Mother? Her eyes instantly brimmed with tears, certain she must be dreaming.

Song Mei stood there with flowers in her hands, hair almost completely white. She raised a trembling hand to touch her daughter’s face. “My child.”

“You’re alive?!” Yan Qingruo choked, flinging herself into her mother’s arms.

Song Mei stroked her daughter’s hair with gentle affection. At first glance, she looked no different from any ordinary, kindhearted mother.

“Hello, Auntie, I’m Qingruo’s—” Jin Yunxi began.

But Song Mei suddenly yanked Yan Qingruo behind her, shielding her. “You—! Get away! Get away from her!”

Her face twisted into hysteria, her earlier composure vanishing like smoke.

“Mother, this is Yunxi. She’s my wife, the current CEO of the Jin Group—the daughter of Uncle Jin Hua, whom you knew.” Yan Qingruo tried patiently to explain.

“Out! I said get out!” Song Mei shrieked, her madness triggered at the sight of Jin Yunxi.

Jin Yunxi frowned, unease prickling through her. Why did Yan’s mother reject her so violently? And how could Song Mei possibly know her father, Jin Hua?

After much effort, Yan Qingruo managed to calm Song Mei and coax her to sleep. “I’m sorry, Yunxi. I didn’t know she would react like this.”

She wrapped her arms around Jin Yunxi’s waist, holding her softly. “You’re not angry, are you?”

“…A little,” Jin Yunxi admitted.

“Don’t be angry, Yunxi, please?” Yan Qingruo’s coaxing tone was tender enough to stir any mother’s ire if she had seen it.

Jin Yunxi gazed at her fair, luminous face, at her sparkling eyes and delicate features, and felt her heart instantly melt.

Still, she feigned a troubled sigh. “I’m not angry—just… a little depressed. Our mother doesn’t approve of me.”

She had already referred to Song Mei as “our mother.” That small acknowledgment warmed Yan Qingruo’s heart, soothing some of the grievances she had felt at the party earlier.

Shyness and embarrassment tinged with sweetness bloomed inside her.

She rose on tiptoe and brushed a light kiss against the Alpha’s cheek. “Mother will come around to us.”

Leaning close to her ear, she whispered, “She really likes children.”

Jin Yunxi looked puzzled. “But I’m not a child.”

“Dummy~ I’m not talking about that.” Yan Qingruo pinched her earlobe, hint clear.

After all, since their marriage, someone had yet to actually do anything. How could there be children?

Jin Yunxi froze, blank for a moment. What did Song Mei’s fondness for children have to do with them?

Turning it over in her mind, she slowly caught the deeper implication. Still, she pretended not to understand, gently shaking Yan Qingruo’s wrist. “But what if I don’t like children? What then?”

Yan Qingruo’s heart sank with sudden disappointment. “Really? If Yunxi doesn’t like them, then we’ll just…”

“Not have them?” Jin Yunxi tilted her head innocently. “Is that what you mean, Qingruo-jie?”

A smile tugged at her lips as she lowered her head to kiss the woman’s eyelashes. In a soft murmur, she added, “Unless the child looks like you. Then I’ll love them.”

Then, teasingly: “But if they look like me, you’d probably dislike them even more.”

“How could I ever dislike them?” Yan Qingruo immediately retorted. How could she possibly hate a child that was hers and Yunxi’s? And hearing Yunxi soften her voice to call her “jie,” Yan Qingruo felt her brain go fuzzy, her mind no longer as sharp as usual.

Jin Yunxi raised an eyebrow. “So it’s true—you do want to have a child with me.”

Yan Qingruo realized she had walked straight into her trap. She bit her lip, eyes glistening, lashes lowered in a shy flutter.

“I’m not talking to you anymore.” Her cheeks flushed hot as she turned her back, though the faint upward curl at her lips betrayed her joy.

Neither of them could have imagined that those casual words, spoken half in jest, would one day carry the weight of prophecy.