After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 43

“On that island, we once walked side by side, once embraced each other—

Now only my footsteps remain, echoing with lonely memories.

I stretch out my hands to touch the shape of the wind,

But I can no longer feel your warmth.

Tilting my head, I hear the starry whirlpool roaring in my ears.

Eyes lowered, I can hear the sound of my own tears falling.”[1]

The news that Jin Yunxi had flown across thousands of miles to an A-country airport, desperately trying to stop Yan Qingruo from leaving, spread like wildfire across Atlantis.

But as rumors traveled, they twisted—soon the story turned into Jin Yunxi had knelt in public to beg Yan Qingruo to stay!

The scandal erupted like a storm, shaking the entire nation.

Was this really the same Secretary-General? That aloof, untouchable woman, noble as a snow lotus blooming high on a cliff—could she really have done such a thing?

Lin Ruxi eyed her suspiciously: “Did you truly kneel to her? I refuse to believe it.”

Jin Yunhan stamped her foot in outrage: “Jie! How could you kneel to that vile woman?”

Liu Yuan looked ashamed: “Secretary-General, this is all my fault. Did I cause trouble for you again?”

Jin Yunxi gave no explanation. She shut the door, keeping all voices outside. Yet the words Qingyue Corp fell heavy in her heart—like the final straw crushing the camel’s back.

Whether she had knelt or not no longer mattered. She had never cared for outsiders’ opinions; her pride never came from others’ admiration. But her deepest sense of unworthiness came only from Yan Qingruo’s rejection.

The moment Yan Qingruo turned her down so decisively, Jin Yunxi’s self-esteem shattered into dust.

Insomnia returned. She relied on medication, even alcohol, while the Dark Fortress Prison echoed with the prisoners’ ghostly wails.

Something unsettled Jin Fan: the criminals Secretary-General interrogated lately all seemed to share a pattern—men who had stolen another man’s wife, who had murdered or caused the death of a spouse.

For nearly a month, Jin Yunxi sank into a mire of darkness. During this time, Su Yuening came to visit.

The Alpha reeked of alcohol as she stumbled out of bed. Su Yuening frowned at the sight.

She still remembered how they once pulled the Jin Corporation from the wreckage left by Jin Hua, building it step by step into its current empire. No one cherished the corporation more than Jin Yunxi.

Yet now, she neglected everything. The Queen could be understanding, but the Jin Corporation carried the unfulfilled hopes of Yunxi’s late mother. And still, she seemed not to care?

In Su Yuening’s mind, the image of an impossibly beautiful woman flashed by—her expression shifted strangely.

“Is it her again?” she asked softly, sitting by the bedside, fingers brushing over Jin Yunxi’s elegant brows and eyes.

Everything Jin Yunxi had ever wanted, Su Yuening had offered without hesitation.

She had been born into an ordinary Beta family, bullied during her school years. It was Jin Yunxi who had stood up for her, shielding her from the cruel heirs of nobility.

Later, Jin Yunxi noticed her gift for business. Together, they expanded Jin Corporation’s empire, side by side.

Now, half-conscious with drink, Jin Yunxi frowned and muttered, “Qingyue Corp. I hate it… Qingruo, Shu Xiyue…”

Su Yuening arched a brow. “Whose company could make you hate it this much?”

Like a seasoned hawk, once she fixed on what Yunxi despised, she would never let go.

In her haze, Jin Yunxi clutched Su Yuening’s hand. “Yuening, help me find them. I hate the founder of this company.”

Finding that company meant uncovering Yan Qingruo and Shu Xiyue.

To her, Qingyue Corp was proof of Yan Qingruo’s betrayal. Even hearing the name felt like a thorn lodged in her throat.

Resentment filled her heart. At times, she even wished she had never met Yan Qingruo at all.

Su Yuening held her hand tightly, promising with grave solemnity: “Don’t worry.”

Whatever Jin Yunxi loved, she welcomed.

Whatever Jin Yunxi desired, she delivered.

Whatever Jin Yunxi hated, she vowed to destroy.

Once, Yunxi had picked Su Yuening’s dignity out of the mud. Now, she would piece together Yunxi’s shattered pride.

She had always watched Yunxi from afar, revering her every word and action. She even wished she could become Jin Yunxi—but since she could not, she could only worship her as a god.

When Jin Yunxi awoke from her stupor, her head throbbed. In a blur she recalled Su Yuening’s visit, but she was already gone.

“Yuening, thank you.” She sent a text of gratitude. Thanks to Su Yuening managing Jin Corporation, she had bought herself this period of reckless idleness.

Collapsed on her bed, she had never felt so powerless.

The deeper the love, the deeper the hatred.

She missed that woman—so much her heart ached and curled in on itself.

And she hated her too—that woman had abandoned her, choosing instead to soar with her so-called childhood sweetheart.

The betrayal gnawed at her, like her gland’s insatiable craving for night-blooming jasmine pheromones—her body’s hunger mocking her hatred for Yan Qingruo.

One night, she dreamed. That familiar jasmine scent surrounded her, and a soft body leaned into her arms.

“Qingruo…” she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks even in the dream. There, Yan Qingruo had re-added her on WeChat, speaking endlessly, swearing she had never fallen out of love, had always loved her deeply.

Overwhelmed with fragile happiness, Yunxi clung to her, pleading: “Don’t leave me.”

But dreams shatter.

When she woke, a timid face came into view. A young girl, fresh and delicate, shyly whispered: “Secretary-General…”

“Who are you?” Yunxi’s expression darkened instantly. “Who let you in?”

“Little Jin arranged for me to accompany you,” the girl stammered, wringing her hands nervously. She wore a revealing dress that looked awkward on her, like a child dressing up in adult clothes.

Yet she carried both innocence and allure—her youthful face already hinting at a future beauty no less striking than Yan Qingruo.

On closer look, her features faintly resembled Qingruo’s. And though only a Beta, she carried a natural body fragrance, uncannily close to night-blooming jasmine.

Repulsed, Yunxi ordered her out immediately.

The girl’s eyes welled with tears. She clung to Yunxi’s arm, pleading pitifully: “Please, don’t send me away. I want to stay with you.”

She came from a poor family on the outskirts of Yacheng, unable to afford tuition. At a high-end club, Jin Yunhan had noticed her. She knew full well—if she failed to stay, Yunhan would never let her go, and her family would suffer too.

And in truth, she admired Yunxi. She had grown up watching the SS-rank Alpha on the news, idolizing her in secret.

But thinking of the “task” Yunhan had given her, her face burned crimson.

“Get out.” Yunxi’s disgust peaked, her skin crawling. She wanted to shower immediately.

The girl, however, gathered her courage. She had overheard Yunxi’s dream-mutterings. “Secretary-General,” she whispered, “why do you tolerate someone else betraying you, but treat yourself so harshly? Isn’t the best revenge to repay in kind?”

Yunxi froze, her emotions tangled. “Who taught you to say that? What were you planning to do just now?”

The girl’s cheeks burned hotter. “Secretary-General… I just wanted to get close to you.”

She crawled toward Yunxi like a kitten, her fragrance a mix of untouched innocence and sweetness.

If she had to lose her first time to anyone, she hoped it would be Secretary-General.

But Yunxi shoved her away coldly. “Enough.”

There was no need to test further.

The moment the girl neared, her glands stayed numb. She knew her body responded only to Yan Qingruo.

How infuriating. How humiliating!

Yet the girl’s words struck a chord. Perhaps, with everyone trying to seduce her this past month, she did need a shield.

“You may stay—but not here. I’ll give you an internship at Jin Corporation,” Yunxi said flatly.

The girl’s eyes lit up with joy. “Yes, Secretary-General! Then… what should I call you?”

“Call me whatever you like.”

Her smile bloomed sweetly. “Alright then—Ah Yun.”

Jin Yunxi: …

________________________________________

For the past month, Mo Sisi appeared like warm winter sunlight, trying to thaw Yunxi’s cold shell with patience and tenderness.

From the countryside, Mo Sisi was a skilled cook. Every day at noon, she prepared elaborate meals, personally delivering them to Yunxi.

She even secretly asked Ivy about Yunxi’s food preferences, just to please her.

But Yunxi always kept her distance. The meals ended up in Jin Fan’s hands instead.

Facing her earnest efforts, Yunxi sighed softly.

Su Yuening, tasting one of the lunches, teased: “You never touch these, yet now you regret it?”

Yunxi frowned, muttering, “Why is the gap between people so wide? Even half of what she has would be enough.”

Su Yuening blinked, baffled by the cryptic remark.

Yunxi could not stop herself from thinking—if only Yan Qingruo had given her even half of Mo Sisi’s sincerity. Even a fraction would have been enough.

The thought was poison, keeping her awake at night.

When no one was watching, she dumped the meals out. But all she could think was—

If Qingruo had brought me food for just one week, would I have forgiven her?

She thought—she must truly be mad.

By day, she forced herself to look away from Qingruo’s photos, her gaze deliberately cold.

But at night, she writhed restlessly as those intimate memories clawed back: bodies entwined, sweat, gasps… and her voice—Yan Qingruo’s moans.

How damnable.

She changed the sheets and buried her face in the pillow. Annoyed.

In every dream of desire, time froze before Yan Qingruo recovered her memories—before the wound she inflicted ever existed. In those dreams, Jin Yunxi, too, had forgotten it all. She surrendered herself, lost in passion, clinging desperately, pressing Yan beneath her in fervent kisses—or letting the woman straddle her waist. In that dreamlike haze, they lingered, entwined, riding a drifting boat from day into night, one encounter after another.

But every morning, when she woke to cold reality, her craving for Yan Qingruo left her disgusted with herself. Her body refused to forget.

The body remembers. It presses against her nerves, shakes her mind, roars inside her—

Yes, you need Yan Qingruo!

Like a dog wearing its master’s collar—one smile, one glance from that wicked woman, and you’d be wagging your tail, rushing to her!

Jin Yunxi, where is your dignity? You’re human—you are not her dog!

Damn it! Only a dog would need her! She would never go to her, never reach out—

But she did need her. In heat, she needed her.

Only in heat? The thought slapped her in the face. A few times, that was all, and yet she couldn’t forget. Every night she tossed and turned, skin to marrow set ablaze, flipping in bed like a seared pancake, restless and feverish.

The very grain of her skin, every pore etched with memory, replayed each touch—fluttering, aching, begging for more.

And every morning she faced the mute despair of changing sheets again.

Months passed, her hatred and helplessness toward Yan Qingruo smoldering, spreading like wildfire without end. By the time winter solstice came, it quieted for a moment, giving Jin Yunxi a brief, false reprieve.

But then, another lapse. She sent a text—and instantly regretted it.

That winter solstice night, maybe it was the biting cold, maybe it was the memory of her legs—whole again—of that woman’s gentle massages.

Snow drifted outside her window. On impulse, Jin Yunxi typed a message to the number she had long since blocked: Happy Winter Solstice.

Perhaps because they had once shared this day together, the memory tugged like an invisible string, pulling at her heart.

The second it sent, regret gnawed her to the bone. She remembered Yan Qingruo had already blocked her. Relief washed over her—followed by a sharp, wordless ache, a hollowness like the winter wind driving straight into her chest.

Winter Solstice—equal to New Year.

Meanwhile, in Country F, though the holiday lacked the fervor of home, Song Mei’s deeply rooted traditions made her pay it special heed. She busied herself making dumplings. Yan Qingruo, belly already showing, offered to help, but Song Mei waved her off.

Her world was now filled with the child soon to arrive. The dumplings, really, were an excuse—to invite Shu Xiyue to a family dinner.

In Country F, single parenthood wasn’t forbidden, same-sex love was accepted—but school registrations and countless formalities still tied to marital status. Song Mei burned with worry. She couldn’t let the baby be born into a household with a missing mother on the registry.

Yet every time she pressed for marriage, Yan Qingruo evaded, and Shu Xiyue shied away like a frightened rabbit.

Whenever asked, Yan Qingruo would excuse it with company matters. But Song Mei’s suspicions grew. Too busy to care for her pregnant partner?

So, gritting her teeth, Song Mei handed over the Song family’s prized patent—her own parents’ life’s work—to Shu Xiyue’s company. As good as a dowry.

To Song Mei, Shu Xiyue was family already, and Qingyue Corp was an extension of her own. All her hopes rested on Yan Qingruo and Shu Xiyue.

___

That solstice night, Mo Sisi stood outside the Jin residence for hours, refusing to leave.

Jin Yunxi frowned, standing at the window. Memories of a month’s worth of meals swayed her. In the end, she let the girl in.

Mo Sisi entered, rubbing her frozen hands. Jin Yunxi stood tall and cold-eyed in her sweater, slender and aloof.

“Ah Yun, aren’t you cold?” Though shivering herself, she wound a scarf around Jin Yunxi’s neck.

Jin Yunxi, a head taller, twenty-eight now—more mature, steadier, strikingly beautiful.

“Mo Sisi, don’t you feel the cold?” She signaled Ivy to take the dumplings, turn on the heater, and fetch gloves.

Mo Sisi’s cheeks flushed. It was the first time Jin Yunxi had shown her such concern. The gloves weren’t even Yunxi’s—just a spare Ivy had bought—but she treasured them as if they were.

She knew she could never claim Yunxi for herself. Yet the Secretary-General was so lonely—lonely enough to break her heart.

Jin Yunxi ate in silence. Steam rose from the dumplings.

That solitary Happy Winter Solstice never lit up her phone again.

She thought she could forget Yan Qingruo. But that night, the familiar dream returned, dragging her back into the old, tender trap.

Jin Yunxi could only scoff at herself.

________________________________________

The next morning, still steeped in regret, Mo Sisi knocked on her door, asking her to travel together.

Eyes shining, she said it was with her very first paycheck—and she wanted to invite Ah Yun.

Later, Jin Yunxi sat in a hot spring inn beside a shrine in Country R, mist blurring her vision. She closed her eyes, seeking a moment’s peace for her weary soul. When she rose, towel wrapped around her, droplets tracing her skin, she caught sight of Mo Sisi skipping toward her.

“Ah Yun, you’re in this pool too?” she feigned surprise, a flicker of joy betraying her eyes.

Jin Yunxi merely hummed. “Don’t come in. I’ve already used it.”

“I don’t mind.”

Her brows furrowed. “Sorry. I would.”

Mo Sisi, barely eighteen, yet quick to understand.

Raised in the countryside, she was deft with local foods and flavors. Now she offered a plate of regional snacks, saying they eased the aftereffects of hot springs.

At dusk, she trailed obediently beside Yunxi. All the way, Yunxi kept her silence.

They passed a small izakaya. Jin Yunxi walked in, drank several cups of sake. Her cheeks flushed, steps unsteady. The owner, noticing, recommended a temple nearby—still open at night, with a lantern-lighting ritual that evening.

She swayed into the temple. Tall trees bore countless wooden plaques etched with wishes. The breeze rattled them together, filling the air with soft, ringing notes.

She traced the words with unsteady fingers, and on impulse, picked up a pen. She wrote a name. Again and again, crossing out, rewriting. Then—another impulse—she snapped a photo and sent it to the hollow void that never replied, the inbox she had once used as her confessional.

Leaving the temple, fireworks suddenly lit the night sky. Colors burst overhead, dazzling brilliance flooding the darkness. Yunxi looked up, eyes stinging.

Shall we watch the fireworks together? Watch how blossoms give birth to blossoms?

Above dreams, let dreams be reborn,

Let us walk side by side by the desolate riverbank, gaze at the heavens,

The ecstasy and ache of life,

All burning, fleeting—like fireworks…

Crowds bustled around her in masks and kimonos, lanterns in hand. Yunxi drifted, drunk, dazed.

And then—she thought she saw her. A familiar silhouette, wavering between dream and reality.

Her chest seized, breath faltering.

“Qingruo.” She whispered the name, nails biting into her palm to anchor herself.

Pain. She bolted after the figure.

“Ah Yun.” A sweet voice called from behind.

There, under the lanterns, stood a girl in a pink kimono. She removed her mask, smiling brightly.

No tear mole, none of Yan Qingruo’s sultry allure. Only a dimple—sweet, girlish, innocent.

Jin Yunxi lowered her hand. “…It’s you.”

Mo Sisi, thinking she’d been chased after, blushed shyly and clung to her arm.

Yunxi instantly pulled away, face unreadable.

The rejection made the girl stiffen, but she recovered quickly, smile unwavering. Her dimples glowed warm as she asked softly, “Dizzy? Let me take you back, Ah Yun.”

Half-sober now, Yunxi’s brow tightened. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

In a hidden corner, a reporter’s camera clicked furiously, fireworks masking the sound, catching the moment of arms entwined.

Meanwhile, across the ocean in a hospital in Country F, the atmosphere was wholly different.

A newborn’s cry pierced the air.

On the bed, pale but radiant, Yan Qingruo cradled her daughter, her features softened in rare, tender beauty.

A wish: peace and joy.

A photo of the wishing tree, with those words, appeared on her phone.

Afterward, drunken scribbles crossed out, leaving only that restrained blessing. No name, no signature.

But Yan Qingruo knew—it was from Jin Yunxi.

Holding her daughter in one arm, she stroked the screen with the other. Those few words, like a stone dropped into still water, rippled through her long-quiet heart.

Baby, this is from your mother, she whispered, pressing her forehead to the infant’s soft skin.

“What should we name her?” Shu Xiyue asked. Song Mei glanced at her. “You’re her mother too—why not choose?”

Shu Xiyue scratched her head, hesitating, then looked at Yan Qingruo, eyes alight with hope.

Yan Qingruo turned only to her mother. “Mom, I’ve decided. Her name will be Yan Xining.”

Xining. Xining.

If they were never to meet again, then let Jin Yunxi at least live in peace and joy.

But—had Yunxi stopped hating her? To send such a blessing, so calmly, as if letting go?

When love runs deepest, resentment comes easily. Yet when feelings are severed, what remains is mere indifference.

A storm of emotions swelled in her chest. Uneasy, she instinctively opened the news from Atlans—

BREAKING: Secretary Jin spotted hand-in-hand with new flame in Country R!

CEO Jin’s romantic trip with 18-year-old sweetheart—fireworks, hot springs, sweeter than a honeymoon!