After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 42

Ever since Jin Yunxi posted that photo, she had thrown herself into work. Whether deliberately or not, she hadn’t sent Yan Qingruo a single message for an entire week.

Usually, she treated Yan Qingruo’s inbox like a hollow tree in the forest—pouring into it endless confessions, every day with a different line of affection.

But whether those messages ever reached Qingruo, Jin Yunxi had no idea.

________________________________________

In Country A, Shu Xiyue looked across the desk at the absent-minded woman.

“Qingruo, what’s wrong? You seem distracted.”

Ever since moving abroad, Yan Qingruo’s mood had been far from bright. It didn’t mar her beauty in the least—in fact, the quiet melancholy gave her an even colder allure that made Shu Xiyue’s heart stir.

Country A was not like Yatran; here, same-sex love was openly accepted, with even advanced reproductive technologies available to same-sex couples.

Shu Xiyue herself was an Omega. When she learned that Yan Qingruo was also an Omega, her attraction didn’t fade one bit. On the contrary, she believed she was now a better match for her.

She was the illegitimate daughter of the Shu family, but had only recently been acknowledged by them.

The Shu family was one of the great conglomerates of Country A. Their only son had died young, leaving Shu Xiyue as the sole blood heir. Even as an illegitimate child, her lineage made her irreplaceable.

Her father had finally, albeit grudgingly, brought her into the family.

Yan Qingruo once thought Xiyue would resist such an arrangement, but she had accepted it with surprising ease.

Overnight, Shu Xiyue had leapt social classes.

Now that Qingruo had left Jin Yunxi, the feelings she had harbored since university began to stir once more.

“Is there an important partner you need to reach out to?” she asked curiously.

“No,” Qingruo replied lightly.

Sensing her mood, Shu Xiyue didn’t push further during office hours. After work, she tried again:

“Qingruo, there’s a new restaurant nearby. Shall we go together?”

“No need. My mother’s already made dinner at home.” Qingruo refused.

Xiyue hesitated, considering whether to suggest sending her home—and perhaps joining her and her mother for dinner. But before she could speak, Qingruo gave her a polite but distant smile, said goodbye, and drove off, as if something—someone—was waiting for her at home.

Shu Xiyue was left puzzled. Yan Qingruo’s behavior today was strange. No—since that meeting a few days ago, she had seemed like a soul that had slipped its tether.

________________________________________

From the kitchen, Song Mei came out carrying a tray. She eyed her daughter with mock suspicion.

“Ruoruo, what’s wrong with your phone? Waiting for someone important to message you? Or is there someone special?”

In Qingruo’s slender fingers, the newly replaced foldable phone flipped mechanically, the dim screen catching and fading under her touch.

At her mother’s teasing, she paused, slowly lifting her head. A flicker of panic crossed her gaze. She bit her lip, and after a brief silence, pressed the power button.

“No.”

Song Mei snorted. “As long as you’re not waiting for that Jin family girl. I can’t stand her—or her father. The whole Jin family is hateful.”

Qingruo set the phone aside.

“Mom, don’t bring her up again.”

“Fine by me. Talking about her only ruins our mood.”

Silence fell. Qingruo’s gaze drifted to the lavishly set dining table. Song Mei’s cooking was exquisite, every dish colorful and fragrant. Usually her favorites—but today, none of it sparked the slightest appetite.

Instead, her stomach churned violently. A wave of nausea rose to her throat.

“Mom, do we have any sour fruit?” Her voice was faint, carrying a strange undercurrent even she didn’t notice.

Song Mei froze, suspicion flashing in her eyes.

“This season? Where would we get sour fruit?”

Before she could finish, Qingruo suddenly clutched her stomach, her face draining of color as she staggered toward the bathroom.

Song Mei hurried after her, heart pounding. She watched her daughter retch helplessly over the toilet and, as a woman who had been there herself, a terrifying thought took root in her mind.

When Qingruo returned, pale and trembling, she sat heavily at the table. Song Mei grabbed her arm, voice shaking.

“Ruoruo, don’t tell me—you’re pregnant?!”

Her tone grew harsh, almost frantic. If this child belonged to Jin Yunxi, she would not tolerate it. She demanded Qingruo get rid of it.

Qingruo froze at the words, panic flashing across her eyes. But she quickly calmed herself, forcing a weary smile.

“Mom, you’re overthinking.”

To reassure her, she forced down a bite of spicy food, though her stomach protested violently. She chased it with water.

“See? It’s nothing.”

But inside, her heart raced.

That night—their first—when Jin Yunxi had given her contraceptives, she hadn’t taken them.

By the time she tried later, it was far past the effective window.

Her brows knit as panic rose anew.

Her phone lay silent. In her mind’s eye, however, flashed the image of Jin Yunxi flirting with another Omega.

She hadn’t eaten anything sour, yet bitterness filled her chest. Could Yunxi really have moved on so quickly?

Biting her lip, she recalled Yunxi’s once-passionate confessions. Were those words already meaningless, tossed aside for someone else’s embrace?

And now, this troublesome woman’s seed was quietly taking root inside her.

Pressing a hand to her stomach, she whispered bitterly,

“Is your mother really such a fickle heart?”

________________________________________

A week slipped by.

Jin Yunxi had sent nothing. On Qingruo’s end, it was utter silence.

At last, Yunxi began to believe the truth—that Qingruo’s phone simply wasn’t receiving her messages.

Finding one person in a sea of millions was like searching for a needle in the ocean.

Yaqi had to increase Yunxi’s prescription for sleeping pills. Watching her decline again after a brief period of stability left her worried sick.

Liu Yuan fed her girlfriend a piece of pineapple and winked.

“Don’t worry, babe. Leave this to me.”

She kissed Yaqi’s cheek, teasing,

“Just don’t get jealous later.”

Yaqi blinked blankly. “Jealous? Of what?”

Liu Yuan chuckled, hair brushing Yaqi’s face.

“Not you, silly. We need someone else to get jealous.”

________________________________________

Meanwhile, at Yalan TV’s meteorology division, news arrived: Secretary-General Jin Yunxi herself was coming to inspect.

Excitement erupted. Their numerical forecast computer was built with the latest Jin Group technology. To have the Secretary-General visit in person was an honor beyond measure.

Their weather balloons, too, had been deployed not only across Yatran but globally. If Yunxi chose to publicize them, their prestige would soar.

The anchors prepared feverishly. Dresses, makeup, hairstyles—all meticulously chosen.

Among them, one new anchor stood out: crimson lips, skirt skimming her knees, radiating sensuality with every move.

Assistant Jin Fan scanned the room, then pointed directly at her to handle the reception.

When Yunxi arrived, she shook hands with each anchor, the scene broadcast live worldwide like a fan meeting.

As the designated hostess, Liu Yuan stepped forward, mischief glinting in her eyes.

She leaned close, slipped her arm around Yunxi’s, and said sweetly,

“Secretary-General, this way, please.”

Yunxi raised a brow, momentarily surprised, then let it pass without protest.

The cameras caught everything. The live chat exploded.

“Who is that gorgeous anchor? She looks perfect with the Secretary-General!”

“They’re stunning together. I’m shipping them already!”

At home, Yan Qingruo sat on the sofa, eating sour fruit. Her gaze flicked coldly to the television. At the sight of Liu Yuan clinging to Yunxi, her expression darkened further.

Moments later, the broadcast showed Yunxi exiting a side room with the woman. Her white shirt was missing a button. Sharp-eyed viewers spotted a lipstick mark on her pale neck. The comments went wild:

“No way! Secretary-General’s really doing this live?!”

“Look at that lipstick stain—what were they doing in there?!”

Yunxi only smiled faintly, exchanging a knowing glance with the woman who clung even tighter to her arm.

What should have been a professional inspection had turned into the set of a romance variety show.

The sharp crack of a remote hitting the table broke the silence in Qingruo’s living room.

Her pale fingers clenched, knuckles whitening. Frost gathered in her eyes. She recognized that woman in the red dress—she was the same one caught on camera at the club with Yunxi.

So it had started back then. Right under her nose.

The divorce papers were pulled out from the drawer. Her movements were calm and unhurried, yet the sound of turning pages crackled sharply in the silence.

She picked up a pen and signed her name in another blank space. The handwriting was still neat and beautiful, but faint traces of force pressed too hard were visible in every stroke.

Right after, she tapped the “reply” button on her phone. Her slender fingers moved lightly over the screen, typing:

[Jin Yunxi, let’s get a divorce. I’ll have the agreement mailed to you.]

The moment the message was sent, the churning in her stomach became unbearable. Yan Qingruo stumbled to the bathroom and vomited violently. Unease swelled inside her chest, until at last her trembling hands pulled out the pregnancy test she had bought earlier that day.

Two glaring red lines.

Leaning over the sink, she took several deep breaths, trying to calm the storm in her stomach. In the mirror, her face looked pale. She turned on the tap, splashing cold water over her face. Droplets slid down her cheeks—whether water or tears, she could no longer tell.

At that same moment, inside the Intelligence Bureau, an officer shouted excitedly, “We’ve located her! She’s in Sturt City, Country A!”

The dullness in Jin Yunxi’s eyes vanished at once, replaced by light. She strode forward urgently, her voice tight: “Exact location—tell me, quickly!”

________________________________________

“What! You’re pregnant?” Shu Xiyue’s pupils widened. “Is it… that bastard Jin Yunxi’s?”

The words slipped out before she realized her mistake. But seeing Yan Qingruo’s silence, her heart soured further. She muttered under her breath, “Auntie will never let you keep this child.”

“I know.” Yan Qingruo rose slowly, brushing her hair back with a calm expression. “I never planned to keep it.”

Her tone was as indifferent as if she was merely saying she wouldn’t be having a certain dish for dinner.

…

The weather in Sturt City was nothing like Yatran—chaotic and unpredictable. Lying in the operating room, feeling the icy instruments brush against her stomach, Yan Qingruo suddenly remembered a text message Jin Yunxi had once sent her.

“Ruoruo, you once asked me if I wanted children. Back then I said I didn’t like babies. But if it was our child, I couldn’t stop thinking… how wonderful it would be. I’d want the baby to look just like you.”

That earnest confession still rang in her ears, yet the images of Jin Yunxi’s recent entanglements with other women flashed clearer before her eyes.

Yan Qingruo’s lashes quivered, but she quickly regained her composure.

Suddenly, Shu Xiyue’s urgent voice came from outside the door:

“Qingruo, something’s wrong—Jin Yunxi’s arrival in Country A just hit the headlines!”

“She wouldn’t come for no reason. She may have already found us!”

“Do we still go through with the operation?” Shu Xiyue was pacing in panic. “Qingruo, maybe we should stop—right now!”

Jin Yunxi’s arrival had been anything but quiet. The Foreign Affairs Minister of Country A personally received her, even mobilizing military protection.

At that moment, Song Mei arrived at the hospital. Grabbing a passing nurse, she asked urgently, “Why is my daughter here?”

A gynecologist happened to walk past, glanced at Song Mei, and asked, “Is your daughter the inpatient named Yan Qingruo?”

Song Mei nodded quickly.

“She’s pregnant, she’s—” The doctor stopped halfway at Song Mei’s darkened expression, then left hurriedly.

Shu Xiyue, who had overheard, felt her heart tighten.

Song Mei’s gaze turned on her, cold and probing. Panicking, Shu Xiyue blurted out, “The child is mine! Qingruo only came for a prenatal checkup.”

Relief washed over Song Mei. She patted her chest, then Shu Xiyue’s shoulder. “I knew something was off between you two. Xiao Yue, I don’t mean to pry but—”

Her weak heart could hardly take such shocks. She had almost thought her daughter was in real danger—or worse, the kind of pregnancy she dreaded most.

Just then, Yan Qingruo stepped out of the operating room. Hearing their words, she paused, casting a complicated glance at the two of them.

The Shu family’s private jet rumbled on the tarmac. Yan Qingruo’s face looked faintly pale, lost in thought.

Shu Xiyue handed her a cup of hot water, whispering by her ear: “Did you… get rid of it?”

Song Mei’s sharp eyes flicked between them. “What on earth is going on?”

Shu Xiyue fidgeted, unable to answer.

Yan Qingruo looked at her excitable mother and sighed. “Mom, I am pregnant. But it was through IVF.”

“It’s Xiao Yue’s, isn’t it?” Only between Omegas would IVF be necessary. Yet Song Mei was still unsettled.

Yan Qingruo frowned and said nothing.

To Song Mei, that silence looked like a shy admission. She let out a small sigh of relief.

But relief was short-lived. A motorcade streamed into the airport. From the cars emerged a familiar tall figure—slender and unyielding as pine.

Jin Yunxi looked thinner than before.

Her eyes locked instantly on the woman aboard the plane. “Yan Qingruo, come down. I have so much to say to you.”

But just as the woman’s long fingers were about to shut the window coldly, she replied, “President Jin, whatever you need to say, say it here.”

“I was wrong,” Jin Yunxi said, voice breaking. “I never should’ve lied to you. Can’t you forgive me, just this once?”

“No.”

Jin Yunxi’s lips parted helplessly. “Qingruo, aside from that one mistake, tell me—what else have I done so wrong? Enough for you to leave Yatran, disappear without a word, abandon even your work and family?”

For a moment she had almost believed Qingruo must have had some unbearable hardship.

But now, the woman wouldn’t even give her the chance for a private conversation.

“Are you finished, President Jin?” Yan Qingruo’s cold gaze cut down at her.

Panic clawed at Jin Yunxi’s chest. She took a desperate step forward, but the plane’s boarding stairs had already been pulled away.

Yan Qingruo’s voice, colder than the wind sweeping the tarmac, fell: “Yes. It’s your fault. All of it is your fault.”

Her words pierced Jin Yunxi’s heart. Gathering courage, she asked, “Did you ever care for me? Yan Qingruo—even after your memory returned—was there truly not a single moment your heart wavered? Couldn’t you care for me, even a little?”

Even now, she dared not utter the word love.

“No.” The woman’s answer was as icy as midwinter frost.

Still unwilling to give up, Jin Yunxi, pride worn down to dust, pleaded: “Then give me one chance to make it right. I swear, I will never deceive you again.”

The words, humiliating for someone once so proud, only made the rejection sharper.

Yan Qingruo’s eyes flickered briefly. Her gaze fell on the open collar of Jin Yunxi’s shirt, where faint traces of lipstick still lingered. Any trace of softness vanished. “No.”

“You’re jealous, aren’t you? Those women meant nothing. I only did it to lure you out.” Jin Yunxi hurried to explain.

A ripple stirred in Qingruo’s heart, but she bit her lip hard. Staring deeply at Jin Yunxi’s gaunt face, she etched every line into memory—then steeled herself.

Her eyes were a stormy sea, turbulent and fathomless, enough to leave Jin Yunxi shaken.

“Ruoruo, what are you hesitating for?” Song Mei gripped her daughter. “Have you forgotten? She ruined our family! Why are you still soft on her?”

The window slammed shut with a bang.

A single sheet of paper drifted down, like a dead leaf—discarded without pity.

Jin Yunxi staggered, nearly unable to stand. The divorce papers lay at her feet.

Onlookers gaped, as though the Secretary-General was about to kneel, while the woman on the plane remained merciless, cold as stone.

Jin Yunxi’s lips trembled. She wanted to speak, but her throat was choked, no sound would come. She could only watch as the plane taxied away, growing smaller and smaller.

Memories of past tenderness flashed before her eyes, yet Qingruo’s words cut like blades, leaving her heart in tatters.

At last she saw Shu Xiyue at Qingruo’s side, lips curved in a smile, brows lifted in triumph, waving goodbye like a victor.

A wave of dizziness struck. The sun shone warmly overhead, yet Jin Yunxi felt only a bone-deep cold, as though she had fallen back into the frozen lake of her youth. She held back the tears burning her eyes, bent down to pick up the divorce papers, and with them tried to salvage what little dignity she had left.

“Secretary-General, should we keep pursuing?” Jin Fan asked cautiously.

Jin Yunxi closed her eyes slowly, drew in a deep breath, and said hoarsely, “No need.”

Turning away, her figure looked desolate. Each step was heavy, the crumpled divorce papers clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Was this really the end? Jin Fan could hardly believe it. This wasn’t the Jin Yunxi he knew.

Yet as Jin Yunxi’s gaze fell on Qingruo’s elegant signature, she remembered—Qingruo had insisted she sign the papers even before her memory loss. Had she been waiting for this day all along? So she could leave, unburdened?

Yan Qingruo. Heh.

And Shu Xiyue—you’ll pay, too.

Her mind, sharp as a camera, captured the jet’s tail number. In a cold voice she ordered, “Investigate this private plane. Turn the earth upside down if you have to—I want the people behind it.”

Later, when the investigation revealed the company Qingyue Corp. and the names of two all-too-familiar shareholders, Jin Yunxi laughed—furiously, bitterly, broken.