After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 47

Yan Qingruo never expected that just one week later, Shu Xiyue would actually beg her to sleep with Jin Yunxi. She hadn’t said the words outright, but by pushing her toward Jin Yunxi’s bed—what difference did it make?

Who was it that once nearly lost her mind from jealousy, all because Jin Yunxi and she had been too close?

Her thoughts spun back to that day. Shu Xiyue’s face, usually adorned with a gentle, elegant smile, had been shrouded in storm clouds, her expression dark and heavy.

At the corners of her eyes shimmered tiny, wet flecks of light. To an outsider, it might have looked as if she was a pitiful Omega, freshly bullied by Yan Qingruo.

She had studied medicine, and for Yan Qingruo’s sake she had stepped into the business world these past few years. Yet her artistic temperament never faded—her shoulder-length waves quivered lightly with emotion.

She was, in truth, a bundle of contradictions. On the surface, placid and yielding, yet deep within her eyes raged a tidal wave, brimming with suppressed violence, ready to break free at the slightest trigger.

Yan Qingruo stood opposite her, taking in this unfamiliar side.

“Yan Qingruo, I like you! I’ve always liked you! Don’t tell me you didn’t know?!” Shu Xiyue’s voice trembled. She no longer cared about dignity or consequences.

Today, she would let Yan Qingruo know—even if it ruined their friendship, so be it!

Now that they were bound under the same household registration, her delusions, her greedy longing, her feverish obsession had long since grown into a giant beast inside her.

Yan Qingruo’s body went rigid. Her lowered gaze shot upward, eyes widening in disbelief. Her lips parted, but for a long moment no words would come.

She remembered the day Shu Xiyue had suggested a fake marriage. Her tone had been calm, expression unreadable:

“The Shu family is pressing hard. I don’t want to marry. And aren’t you worried about your child’s registration? If we pair up, it works out for both of us.”

Yan Qingruo hadn’t thought too deeply, accepting it as a convenient, mutually beneficial arrangement.

But now the truth struck her like a pail of icy water. It had never been just about convenience—this had always been Shu Xiyue’s excuse to get close.

Her lashes trembled. A cocktail of emotions flooded her chest. If she had known Shu Xiyue harbored such feelings, she would never have agreed to the arrangement.

And yet, she had even let her baby call Shu Xiyue “Shu Mommy”—as casually as naming a beloved auntie as godmother. But now, nothing felt simple anymore.

“Xiyue, I…” She wanted to gently refuse. She had never once thought of Shu Xiyue in that way.

She thought she was breaking Shu Xiyue’s heart. The honest, kind Shu Xiyue she once knew… perhaps this was where their bond ended.

But not long after, Shu Xiyue stunned her again—asking her to approach Jin Yunxi, to draw her in, to beg her.

Only seven days had passed.

The words Shu Xiyue had spat—calling her cheap, calling her shameless—still echoed in her ears. Yan Qingruo stared at her former dearest friend, now cloaked in a darker aura after her trip back to Country A. Shu Xiyue lowered her head, hair falling forward to shadow her face.

Only darkness remained.

“Shu Xiyue, what’s wrong with you?”

A week ago, Shu Xiyue had been wild with fury, nearly unhinged, glaring at Jin Yunxi as if her eyes could spit fire. She had wished Yan Qingruo and Jin Yunxi a thousand miles apart, never to meet again.

But now, her voice choked with tears:

“Qingruo, Jin Yunxi has gone too far!

But only if you beg her—only then will our Qingyue Corp survive. Don’t forget, it’s your mother’s life’s work.”

She tilted her chin, fighting to keep tears from spilling, her posture steeped in grievance and martyrdom.

Yan Qingruo had always been her goddess. A goddess was sacred, untouchable. She had watched her, worshipped her, longed to become her.

Yan Qingruo had always been brilliant—daughter of the Song family, the campus belle.

She remembered a day in school when her bicycle had broken. She had struggled, hauling it along by hand, while Yan Qingruo sat quietly beneath a tree, reading.

Noticing her plight, Yan Qingruo had set down her book, smiled warmly, and said softly, “Shu Xiyue, you’re so strong.”

That single glance had etched itself into Shu Xiyue’s memory.

Like a beam of light piercing her dim world, Yan Qingruo’s presence had burned into her heart, indelible ever since.

She was a bastard child from the slums, invisible to most. But Yan Qingruo remembered her name. Yan Qingruo had praised her.

Her grades were poor, her personality withdrawn. She was used to teachers and classmates ignoring her.

Until one day at cram school, Yan Qingruo had placed a bright red apple on her desk with a tender smile:

“Shu Xiyue, are you thirsty? I don’t have water, but I can share this apple.”

Shu Xiyue had treated that apple as treasure, carrying it home with care. Even as it shriveled and rotted, she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.

When it finally decayed beyond saving, she had solemnly pried out the core, preserving the seeds as if they were priceless jewels—Yan Qingruo’s kindness, immortalized.

From then on, she revered her as a goddess. Yan Qingruo had indeed become her friend, just as she had wished.

But gradually, friendship was no longer enough. Desire grew unchecked. She wanted more.

When she differentiated as an Omega, she knew she and Yan Qingruo could never be more than friends.

In college, she had read novels about women loving women. She couldn’t dare imagine the lovers in those intimate scenes replaced with herself and Yan Qingruo.

Only once, in a dream, had she dared go further—rising quietly at dawn, brushing her lips against the corner of Yan Qingruo’s mouth.

Even then, she hadn’t dared desecrate her goddess.

In real life, she couldn’t even imagine such intimacy. And yet, deep inside, she harbored a crazed longing—to bear Yan Qingruo’s child.

Sometimes she would touch her own abdomen, fantasizing about giving her a baby—one who looked just like Yan Qingruo. That child would be their eternal bond. If she could give her that, her life would be complete.

Even without it, Xining was already so adorable—like their shared child in every way.

But she had dreamed this dream too long. She had almost begun to believe it was real.

And then, in her delusion of passion, she had cursed Yan Qingruo, calling her cheap, calling her wanton. Years of silent yearning and admiration shattered in an instant.

Would this be the end of them? No—it couldn’t be!

To her, Yan Qingruo had always been a snow goddess, pure and untouchable, now sullied by Jin Yunxi’s touch. How could she not burn with hate?

But in the face of reality—and her own ambition—Shu Xiyue had bowed her head.

She had hoped Qingyue’s showcase would draw swarms of investors. Instead, rejection after rejection battered her down.

Finally, she realized it was all Jin Yunxi’s doing. Fury consumed her—she even shouted about rallying the Shu family to crush the Jin Corporation.

But she had overestimated herself.

Back in Country A, she discovered her world overturned. Her father had found an illegitimate son, scheming to pit them against each other for the heir’s seat.

Their weapons were their companies.

For three years, Shu Xiyue had basked in glory as the Shu family’s eldest daughter. How could she accept falling into obscurity overnight?

Once you’ve tasted power, you can never return to ordinariness.

And losing power meant losing her chance with Yan Qingruo too. Without it, she wasn’t even worthy to face Song Mei.

So she agreed to the cruel struggle.

By the time she returned to Country F, she was a different person. She sought Yan Qingruo out immediately, lashing at Jin Yunxi, venting her venom.

But then, just as abruptly, her tone shifted.

“Qingruo, you must beg Jin Yunxi.”

Yan Qingruo’s brows furrowed instantly. Surprise flashed in her eyes before she shook her head firmly. “No.”

Shu Xiyue’s face darkened. She bit her lip and left in haste.

Yan Qingruo stared at her retreating back, doubt gnawing at her. She hadn’t expected Shu Xiyue would then go straight to Song Mei.

Song Mei, upon hearing, grew agitated. The mental illness she had only just recovered from threatened relapse. Her eyes bulged with disbelief.

“Ruoruo, tell me—was this Jin Yunxi again?”

Yan Qingruo lowered her head, fingers twisting nervously in her clothes. “Mom, I…” But before she could finish, Song Mei cut her off.

“Lingxi’s patent is gathering dust, the company’s performance has plummeted—what on earth are you doing? Do you even want revenge anymore?”

Song Mei’s voice rose higher and higher, her eyes rimmed red as she fixed her gaze on Yan Qingruo, as if determined to see straight through her.

In Song Mei’s heart, Qingyue Corp carried the lifelong effort of her parents—Yan Qingruo’s grandparents. It was also the hope of vengeance. Now that the company was in crisis, how could she not break down?

Yan Qingruo felt a sour ache in her chest. She opened her mouth but found no words. Seeing her silence, Song Mei grew even more agitated, waving her hands in the air. “You’ve disappointed me too much. Look at the state of the company, and yet you stand there indifferent!”

Under such fierce pressure, Yan Qingruo’s shoulders drooped slightly, her eyes filled with helplessness.

She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever. After a long silence, she let out a quiet sigh and nodded. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”

She would go to Jin Yunxi.

________________________________________

Evening in F Country. The sunset was veiled and faint, the city’s bustle dimmed behind a sheer curtain of twilight—half-light, half-shadow.

Just like Yan Qingruo and Jin Yunxi’s relationship.

Yan Qingruo stood at the foot of the skyscraper that housed Jin Yunxi’s branch office, took in a deep breath, and steadied herself.

The receptionist, spotting the stunning woman at the door, brightened immediately. Her cheeks flushed, though she kept her tone professional.

“Do you have an appointment with President Jin?”

Yan Qingruo hesitated, bit her lip. “No, but it’s urgent. Could you please make an exception?”

The receptionist, patient and polite, murmured a few words into the phone before sighing. “President Jin is in a meeting. Could you wait a while?”

It sounded like an excuse. Yan Qingruo’s heart sank, but she didn’t give up. Skirting past the desk, she headed straight for the elevator.

The receptionist didn’t stop her. She had done all she could. Maybe this beauty was another admirer of President Jin?

But President Jin was famously cold to such advances. A pity, really. Someone this beautiful, and yet even she would be turned away.

As the elevator doors closed, Yan Qingruo leaned against the wall, shut her eyes, and saw again Song Mei’s look of disappointment and Shu Xiyue’s false expression.

She had asked Shu Xiyue then: “Aren’t you afraid that if I beg Jin Yunxi, I’ll end up in her bed again?”

Shu Xiyue had lowered her head. “I know. But even so, it would be because she forced you.”

As if it hadn’t been her, just a week ago, mocking Yan Qingruo for being promiscuous.

Now she condoned it? Didn’t ridicule her anymore?

Yan Qingruo let out a cold, bitter laugh. So this was Shu Xiyue’s sincerity?

She laughed at herself, at the guilt she had felt for refusing her a week ago.

“Ding.” The top floor.

Outside the president’s office, Jin Fan was waiting. He had been the one who answered the call from the front desk. “Miss Yan, coming up here without permission really isn’t appropriate.”

His words said no, but his body shifted aside, as though he had been waiting to welcome her for a long time.

Jin Fan could hardly say it aloud, but he knew well—President Jin had been waiting for this day endlessly, practically peeking out every afternoon to ask, “Has Miss Yan come looking for me?”

Still, he played his role well, his expression proper, his tone crisp. “I’ll inform President Jin. Whether she’ll see you is her decision.”

“Thank you,” Yan Qingruo murmured.

Seconds later, the door opened.

Yan Qingruo blinked. So soon?

Behind the desk, Jin Yunxi sat in a pristine white suit. The instant her eyes landed on Yan Qingruo, her posture straightened sharply.

The absurd image struck Yan Qingruo at once: she was a teacher entering at the ring of the bell, and Jin Yunxi was the mischievous student in the front row, waiting anxiously for her.

The corner of her lips curved faintly, but she pushed the ridiculous thought aside.

On the desk, Jin Yunxi’s tea sat pale and lukewarm, cup after cup refilled by herself. She hadn’t gone to any meeting—she had been waiting.

Waiting for who?

When Yan Qingruo looked up again, Jin Yunxi’s expression had already cooled, her chin lifted, her glance faint.

Yan Qingruo had dressed deliberately today: a tailored suit dress, fabric light but opaque, cuffs buttoned all the way, concealing her slender wrists. Her chestnut waves, usually cascading loose, were tied high in a neat bun, the image of a frosty university professor—untouchable, distant.

She had wrapped herself in armor. No flimsy “Lingxi dress” today that could be torn apart by Jin Yunxi with a careless tug. She even wore specially made undergarments, troublesome to remove.

Today, she swore, Jin Yunxi would not touch her. No accidental kisses, no careless brushes, no slipping into entanglement.

Compared to her usual gentleness or allure, this look was starkly different. Jin Yunxi’s eyes paused, struck by the sight of an ice lotus blooming on a mountain peak, exuding a cold, ascetic beauty that filled the office.

An urge surged within her—to pluck that lotus, peel back the petals, and taste it. Was it truly as cold as it appeared, or burning hot within?

Jin Yunxi caught herself again entertaining filthy thoughts—thoughts she never had with any other woman, only with Yan Qingruo.

Even though Yan Qingruo treated her so ruthlessly, she still imagined her. The self-loathing stifled her chest.

She bit her lip hard, forcing herself clear. Quickly, she looked away, not wanting Yan Qingruo to see.

Feigning ease, she lounged on the sofa, legs crossed with lazy poise. “So, Yan Qingruo, what brings you here? Don’t tell me it’s about… what happened in the dressing room?” Her tone deliberately teased, the tail note drawn out.

“Jin Yunxi!” Yan Qingruo cut her short, eyes blazing. “You know that’s not why I’m here. And don’t fool yourself—I don’t want anything like that with you. I won’t let you touch me again.”

Jin Yunxi sneered. “Of course. You’re married now—Madam Shu. Got to keep yourself pure for Shu Xiyue, isn’t that right?”

Yan Qingruo: …

Her lashes lowered, hiding the flicker of hurt. “Then why are you here today?”

She knew. She had known all along. She had hoped for it, dreaded it. Day after day, she’d refilled her tea, delayed her queen’s order to return home—waiting.

Yan Qingruo clutched her bag tighter, at a loss for words. Finally, she tossed a silk scarf onto the desk. “This was yours. I’m just returning it.”

Jin Yunxi touched her bare neck, frowning. “Impossible. My scarf was a gift from Mo Sisi.”

Yan Qingruo laughed softly, fingers rubbing the fabric. “This one smells of jasmine perfume. Are you sure you didn’t mistake it?”

Jin Yunxi’s heart jolted. Indeed—she had worn Yan Qingruo’s scarf by mistake.

A pang of bitterness hit Yan Qingruo. With one line, she had forced Jin Yunxi’s little lover into the open. She had come here for something else, not this.

Lowering her gaze, she forced the words out. “Jin Yunxi, I know what you’ve been doing lately. But whatever happens between us, don’t drag Qingyue Corp into it.”

Jin Yunxi’s lips curved in a faint, mocking smile. “And why should I agree?”

Yan Qingruo steadied herself, met her eyes. “For the sake… of the past.”

Her gaze darkened. She stepped forward until only a breath separated them. “The past? You remember it now? Why didn’t you think of it when you walked away back then?”

Yan Qingruo trembled, eyes dropping. “I was wrong. But Qingyue really can’t hold on anymore. The company means everything to me…”

Mentioning the company only fanned Jin Yunxi’s anger.

To her, Qingyue meant Shu Xiyue. That was why Yan Qingruo clung to it so desperately.

A cold laugh. She turned to the window, voice muffled. “So, for the company—for Shu Xiyue—you came to beg me. Shu Xiyue matters that much? I matter that little?”

Yan Qingruo’s throat tightened. She had no answer.

At last, Jin Yunxi turned back, eyes blazing. “If you want my help, it’s not impossible. The question is—are you willing?”

She still didn’t believe Yan Qingruo would go that far for Shu Xiyue.

Hope flickered in Yan Qingruo’s eyes. “What condition?”

Jin Yunxi leaned back on the sofa, legs crossed, fingers drumming idly on the armrest, feigning nonchalance.

Yan Qingruo’s suit was buttoned to the throat, black skirt pressed smooth along her legs, every inch of her voluptuous figure wrapped tight.

Forcing herself, Jin Yunxi locked eyes with her. Keep calm. Don’t let her see. This time she was the one begging, not Jin Yunxi on her knees at the airport.

She should feel triumph. She should feel the joy of revenge.

But no—she only felt hollow, crushed.

That “ice lotus,” the dream she had climbed years of storms to reach, stood before her—untouchable, her eyes shimmering like water as she looked at her.

Don’t look at me like that!

Her nails dug into the sofa. She tore her gaze away, lips parting to release the words that made both their hearts jolt.

“Take it off.”