After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 54

The woman in the photo bore a striking resemblance to Jin Yunxi in looks, yet her aura and demeanor were worlds apart.

She was tall and lean, dressed in the rough clothes of a blue-collar worker—something like a mechanic’s or a construction laborer’s uniform. Her skin was sun-browned, her posture suggesting a life spent hauling bricks beneath the blazing sun.

But her features… they were exactly the same.

It was Ah Yun.

Yan Qingruo’s fingers trembled as she held the photo. How could it not be her?

Lifting her gaze toward Jin Fan, she pressed, “When did she suddenly appear in Fonden? Did she have any family or friends with her?”

Jin Fan rubbed at his nose. “She did. This person may look just like President Jin, but her name is Ah Lai. She grew up by the sea, raised only by her grandmother, a fisherwoman.”

She hesitated, then added, “And her personality is nothing like President Jin’s. Strong limbs, simple mind—like one of those tanned athletes who hate studying and come from a poor family. The kind that ends up doing hard labor at a construction site.”

That was what his investigation in Fonden had revealed.

Seeing Yan Qingruo’s relentless curiosity, Jin Fan could only report everything he knew. At last, he dropped a heavy bombshell: “According to our informants, at night… her mind sometimes doesn’t function quite right.”

Almost like a child with cognitive impairment.

Yan Qingruo didn’t take the words to heart. Jin Yunxi was brilliant. Even if she had lost her memory, how far could she really fall?

________________________________________

In Ah Lai’s memory, her grandmother had told her she had been called Ah Lai since birth.

“Grandma, why did you give me that name?”

“Because ‘Ah Lai’ was the first sound you ever spoke.”

Her grandmother had found her by the water, badly injured, barely conscious, mumbling over and over: She’s waiting for me to come back. I have to go back…

So, her grandmother had named her Ah Lai.

Someone who never forgets where they came from can’t truly be bad, her grandmother thought. That was part of why she chose to save the girl.

But Ah Lai was left bewildered. Go back? Back where? She had no idea. According to her grandmother, her mother had abandoned her at birth.

“Women shouldn’t be too beautiful. If they are, their hearts grow wild, and they always want to run away. Your mother was like that.”

Her grandmother looked at her fair, delicate face, then took her to the shore, teaching her how to catch fish, haul nets, and even dive for shellfish—roughening her up bit by bit.

Her grandmother had once been a haenyeo—a sea-woman—who dived alone to harvest lobsters, scallops, abalone, and conch. Though too old now, she had wanted to pass the craft on, and fate had brought her Ah Lai.

Training Ah Lai as a sea-woman both lightened her own burdens and gave the girl a livelihood.

Among the divers, ranks were divided into upper, middle, and lower tiers. Before long, Ah Lai rose to the top tier—able to hold her breath the longest, gather the most, and dive with the greatest skill.

Her grandmother brimmed with pride at her achievement. It made it all the harder to one day confess the truth of how she had been found.

Soon, Ah Lai’s skin turned dark and sun-browned, giving her a healthy, striking beauty. The seaside girls couldn’t help but steal glances at her.

Her grandmother carefully counted the seafood Ah Lai brought in. After selling it, she handed nearly all the earnings to her.

“Ah Lai, this money’s called feng coins here. The more you save, the more you can do—buy good food, drink nice things.”

“Can I use it to go somewhere far away?” Ah Lai’s phoenix-shaped eyes sparkled with hope.

The sun had darkened her skin, but it hadn’t dimmed her luminous gaze.

When she received her grandmother’s nod, she became even more determined to save every coin.

Listening to the roar of the waves, staring out at the endless sea, she longed to travel far. But where? To meet whom? She didn’t know.

In her dreams, a woman would embrace her from behind, whispering a blurred name she couldn’t make out, murmuring tenderly: I’m waiting for you to come back.

Tears slid from the woman’s eyes, falling onto Ah Lai’s neck, searing her heart wet.

She woke trembling, more resolved than ever: she had to save money, lots of it.

Her grandmother warned her to come home each night after working during the day, lest “someone discover” her. Discover what? She never explained. Ah Lai only obeyed.

“Ah Lai, the world is full of bad people, especially beautiful women. Don’t talk to them.” Her grandmother warned again and again, terrified she might be lured away.

Fonden was a seaside city filled mostly with betas. Female omegas were common, but female alphas were rare.

Her grandmother, a beta who had never married or borne children, saw Ah Lai as a gift from heaven. Secretly, she relied on Ah Lai as her future support, her way of repaying a life debt.

To save faster, Ah Lai not only dived for seafood but also worked construction, delivered parcels, and carried loads.

Three jobs at once.

At the site, she ate two boxed meals provided by the foreman, sometimes splurging on delivery as a treat.

With her long legs and slim waist, she stood out among the laborers. She moved swiftly among building materials, stacking heavy bricks in neat piles. Calluses thickened on her hands, but she didn’t mind.

When scaffolding needed assembling, she climbed up and down to pass tools, nimble enough to avoid most accidents.

One day, she sat with her coworkers in a makeshift shed, devouring rice and pickles. The food wasn’t great, but it was fuel for her exhausted body.

Her grandmother’s health was failing, and Ah Lai wanted to set aside money for her as well. Yet with only a thousand yuan saved, she couldn’t even afford a plane ticket.

After lunch, she went back to work, the veins standing out on her slender arms as she hefted bricks.

Suddenly, a commotion rippled through the site.

“Hey, a beauty! Where’d that beauty come from?”

Ah Lai instinctively looked up. At the entrance stood a woman in a red dress, sunlight tracing her graceful curves, her long curls dancing in the breeze. Her bright peach-blossom eyes swept the crowd.

Then they locked onto her.

Ah Lai’s heart skipped a beat.

“Wow, she’s gorgeous! Who’s she looking at?”

“Let’s find out!” some of the workers abandoned their jobs to gawk.

But Ah Lai couldn’t shake the feeling the beauty’s gaze was fixed on her. The heat of it burned at her back, making her slim waist twitch uneasily.

Ugh, I’m being narcissistic. A woman like that would never look at a laborer like me.

Mortified by her own thoughts, she avoided eye contact, hurriedly finished her tasks, and fled the scene.

Yan Qingruo blinked—where did she go?

________________________________________

The next day, the site was noisy as ever. Ah Lai was bent over, hauling bricks, when whistles and rowdy laughter erupted.

She straightened, and there she was again—the woman in red. Her steps were light, her figure out of place amid the dust and clamor, instantly drawing every eye.

“Look at her! Maybe she’s here for me,” one worker jeered.

“Idiot, she’s obviously here for me.”

Their banter grated on Ah Lai’s nerves. Scowling, she slammed a pile of bricks down. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“Yes, ma’am, group leader!” They quickly quieted.

Ah Lai had earned their respect; she worked hard and was strong, soon chosen as their leader. Normally, she focused on the job. But today, she was struggling to restrain her gaze.

Because the beauty was walking straight toward her.

Her coworkers followed the woman’s eyes, which shimmered like peach blossoms—and landed squarely on their leader.

Ah Lai froze mid-bite, her lunchbox nearly falling from her hands.

That day she’d splurged with coupons, buying a deluxe meal with three meats and four vegetables for just 9.9 feng coins.

The woman’s every step was graceful, utterly out of place, yet she came closer.

Ah Lai shrank back, her thumb rubbing the web of her hand.

It was a familiar tic—one only Jin Yunxi had. Yan Qingruo’s eyes welled up, and she rushed forward to embrace her.

Startled, Ah Lai raised her lunchbox high. “Wait—you’re not here to steal my feast, are you?”

Yan Qingruo: …

Realizing how absurd she sounded, Ah Lai gave an awkward laugh, scratching her head. “Just kidding. Miss, do you need something from me?”

“Can I eat with you? I’m a little hungry.” Yan Qingruo quickly steadied her emotions, softening her tone.

She remembered Yaqi’s warning: if Jin Yunxi had lost her memory, she mustn’t be startled. The best chance was letting her recall things gradually—her brain had been damaged from trying too hard at first.

“Uh… may I ask your name? Why are you here?” Ah Lai asked warily.

Her grandmother had warned her against beautiful women. Yet with just one glance at this one, her heart was pounding uncontrollably. Something had to be wrong with her body—her heart had always been strong, honed as a top-ranked diver.

“My surname is Yan. I’m a writer. I came here for inspiration—and to interview you. I can pay you for an hour of your time.” Yan Qingruo spoke gently, watching the alpha’s every reaction.

“Alright.” Ah Lai popped the last bite into her mouth, then pulled a tissue from the disposable chopstick sleeve of Fengchao delivery. She wiped her greasy hands, then rubbed them off on her blue overalls without a care.

“Go ahead. Interview me.”

If it paid, why not?

Yan Qingruo’s brow twitched slightly at the sight before her. In her memory, Jin Yunxi had been a notorious clean freak—yet this person…

“Then let’s begin the interview with your childhood,” she steadied herself, forcing a faint smile to her lips.

But as Ah Lai spoke, the light in Yan Qingruo’s eyes gradually dimmed.

Her descriptions of local life were vivid and precise, her recounting of childhood experiences fluent, as if she had truly spent her entire life here. Could it be… that she had really mistaken her for someone else? A wave of disappointment welled up in her chest.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions in private.”

“Sure.”

“Could we go to where you live?”

Yan Qingruo reached out, taking Ah Lai’s arm, and guided her toward a building marked as workers’ quarters on the construction site.

The living conditions were extremely simple. Ah Lai’s steps unconsciously slowed, embarrassment flashing across her face as she tried to shake off Yan Qingruo’s hand. But Yan held her firmly, refusing to let go.

As the interview went on, Ah Lai could sense the woman’s mood sinking lower and lower.

With quiet tact, she suggested, “Perhaps we should end the interview here for today.”

“Ah Lai?” The woman gazed at her intently. “Just now, you asked me to call you ‘Master Lai’?”

“Yes. Why?”

“But I don’t want to.”

Her knees bent, one leg kneeling on the bed as she leaned forward, her whole body pressing down. Her lips brushed dangerously close to Ah Lai’s ear as she whispered, “Ah Yun… do you really not remember me?”

Ah Lai’s heartbeat thundered against her chest. The woman’s fingertips traced upward from the back of her hand, gliding along her forearm, brushing over her shoulder.

Ah Lai’s eyes widened. She recoiled in panic, slamming against the headboard with a loud thud.

There was nowhere left to escape. The other woman’s soft, boneless body pressed close.

“Miss Yan, please… show some restraint!” Ah Lai’s voice trembled, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she instinctively clutched at her clothes.

But the woman’s purpose clearly lay elsewhere.

With a sharp rip, Yan Qingruo tore away her inhibitor patch, narrowing her eyes. Not SS-class… but an A-class Alpha?

Could it really be that she wasn’t Jin Yunxi?

Her heart plummeted. And after all that physical closeness just now…

This Alpha’s every reaction was rejection—nothing but rejection.

Even when Jin Yunxi had lost her memory, she had never resisted her like this.

If it was Jin Yunxi, the moment she was teased, she would have already pulled her into a kiss, pressed her down, turned her over again and again.

A flicker of grievance, and a hollow sadness, welled inside Yan Qingruo.

The emptiness in her chest grew unbearably vast.

If Ah Lai wasn’t Jin Yunxi, then where was the real Jin Yunxi?

That was her last hope—and now, it too was about to shatter.

Once she had reached her conclusion, her warmth toward Ah Lai faded instantly. Her beautiful features returned to their usual composure as she climbed down from the bed, smoothing her clothes with calm precision. “My apologies, Master Lai.”

The address was proper and polite. But her eyes, once bright with anticipation, were now veiled by a thin, frosty film, like a misted window.

Ah Lai’s chest tightened. Why was it that after one glance at her neck, the woman’s face had changed entirely?

“I’m an A-class Alpha,” she said awkwardly, rubbing her hands together. “Was this also part of your interview? To confirm my rank?”

Her voice was plain and sincere. “You gave me so much money. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have resisted like that.”

Because she had been paid so generously, Ah Lai felt guilty and said she wanted to give Yan Qingruo a gift.

“Anything at all?” Yan Qingruo rose, circling her like a fox, fingertips grazing her earlobe.

She wasn’t ready to give up.

Even if only for this moment—couldn’t she just pretend this was Jin Yunxi?

No matter what she had become, no matter if she had forgotten her, Yan Qingruo wanted to take her home and hide her away.

Ah Lai tilted her head, baffled by this woman’s constant touches. Her earlobes grew inexplicably warm. Turning aside, she avoided those restless, bewitching hands.

Yan Qingruo’s lips curved. “If you really want to give me something, then how about—”
—“yourself.”

“The gift is… treating you to a good meal!” Ah Lai blurted in a fluster, cutting her off. “Miss Yan, I know a restaurant that’s really delicious. Let me take you there!”

But when they arrived at the high-end restaurant, the owner took one look at Ah Lai’s blue-collar work clothes and barred her entry.

Ah Lai froze, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt, her face burning with shame. At a loss, she stood stiffly—until a cool, commanding female voice rang out behind her:

“She’s with me.”

Ah Lai’s heart lurched. She turned to see Yan Qingruo, standing tall at her back.

The boss’s eyes lit up, his manner instantly obsequious as he gestured them inside. “Of course, miss. As you say.”

“Forget it. We won’t eat here.” Yan Qingruo spared Ah Lai’s pride.

“It’s fine,” Ah Lai mumbled nervously, wiping her hands. They were dirty, and she didn’t dare use the table’s wet towel.

The restaurant was spotless and ornate, completely at odds with her work clothes.

Sitting ramrod straight like a schoolchild, she clumsily offered the menu. “Miss Yan, you should order first.”

“My foreman once said this place has a dish that’s really good,” she scratched her head, unable to recall the name.

“Oh? Is that so?” Yan Qingruo, her expression unreadable, pointed at a mushroom dish. “Then I’ll have this.”

“Alright.” Ah Lai’s eyes lit up. The dish was cheap—Miss Yan was so thoughtful. Warmth bloomed in her chest. Still, her cheeks burned with shame. She was simply too poor. A rare pang of inferiority washed over her.

She straightened her back, adding a few more dishes. It came to half her monthly wages, but she didn’t mind.

As long as Miss Yan was happy.

She even wanted to order more.

She had never eaten at such places before, but treating Miss Yan—it felt worth it.

After all, with how refined and elegant she looked, Miss Yan must always eat like this.

The dishes arrived quickly. Yet Yan Qingruo never touched the mushrooms she’d ordered. Instead, she gently pushed the plate across the table.

“If it’s that delicious, Master Lai should try it first.”

“Sure.”

Yan Qingruo’s breath caught as she watched Ah Lai eat. Her heart sank like a stone.

Jin Yunxi was allergic to mushrooms.

Ah Lai could not be her.

“Sorry, I’m full. I have something to attend to.” She rose gracefully, her departure like a sudden gust of wind.

“Miss Yan!” Ah Lai leapt up, fumbling for her. Glancing at her dirty hand, she snatched a towel and scrubbed furiously.

But in that moment of delay, the woman was already nearing the door.

She scratched at her neck, puzzled. “Weird… why is it so itchy?”

Yan Qingruo froze mid-step, carefully turning back, afraid this was just another cruel illusion.

After all, plenty of people were allergic to mushrooms. Perhaps it was only coincidence, she thought bitterly.

With a soft thud, something slipped from the hidden pocket of Ah Lai’s worn clothing.

It was a watch—luxury, custom-made. Only three existed in the world.

Ah Lai scrambled in panic, clutching it to her chest as though it was her lifeblood. But Yan Qingruo had already seen.

It was Jin Yunxi’s watch.

Her heart flared like dry grass catching fire—after so long in darkness, a sudden blaze of hope.

Ah Lai’s frantic attempt to conceal it, her furtive glances, her fear of being recognized…

If not for hiding her identity, what other reason could there be?

Only Jin Yunxi would treasure this watch so much.

And now that Yan Qingruo had found her, she still tried to deny it? Hmph.

Yan Qingruo’s gaze darkened. So Jin Yunxi was pretending to have lost her memory? Why wouldn’t she meet her eyes?

“Master Lai, that watch looks awfully familiar,” she sneered, lips curling.

Ah Lai’s eyes darted nervously. “There’s no watch. You must’ve imagined it, Miss Yan.”

Yan Qingruo let out a cold laugh. “Your acting is impressive, Master Lai. Ah Lai? Or should I call you… by another name?”