After My Fiancée Failed to Pretend to Be an Alpha - Chapter 11

Tang Cheng didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and entered the password—smooth, unhindered.

320909. The day of their engagement. A date neither of them had ever forgotten.

She stared at the lock clicking open. If not for Lu Xinxue’s permission, Zhong Rou would never have given her the code.

The moment the door swung wide, the scent of thyme rushed out, stronger than before, overwhelming.

“Come upstairs.”

The voice was weak, drifting down from above. Lu Xinxue.

Tang Cheng quickened her pace, not even bothering to change her shoes.

Sweet basil spilled uncontrollably from the back of her neck, mingling freely in the air. Soon, the two pheromones intertwined, wrapping around her, impossible to escape.

It was like returning to that first time they had differentiated—two young girls locked in a room, pheromones weaving together, cheeks flushed, breaths tangled, almost becoming one.

“Axin, are you alright?”

The memories stretched long, dreamlike, with no proof they had ever truly loved.

Lu Xinxue opened her bedroom door. She wore the same coat from yesterday, freshly washed, her long hair draped down her back. Her face showed exhaustion, but her expression was calm. Without a word, she turned and walked toward the study.

She clearly had something to discuss.

Tang Cheng followed. The study was unchanged from her memories. The shelves were lined mostly with books on finance; mechanical texts were tucked away in the lower right corner, inconspicuous but carefully preserved.

The ones she used to read were still there, untouched.

Lu Xinxue sat at her desk, drew out a contract, and handed it to Tang Cheng.

She took it. An agreement.

During the engagement period, Party B would provide Party A with a measured amount of pheromones to ensure Party A could endure her heats. When necessary, Party A would mark Party B.

Party A: Lu Xinxue.

Party B: Tang Cheng.

Tang Cheng marked by Lu Xinxue. An Alpha marked in reverse by an Omega.

It was a solution to Lu Xinxue’s heat—but for Tang Cheng, it was far from healthy.

An Alpha marked by an Omega meant losing the instinct to dominate, pheromones thrown into disarray, glands damaged. In severe cases, the Alpha could lose the ability to mark altogether.

Tang Cheng studied the contract, then looked up. Lu Xinxue was already seated, signing her own copy.

“During the engagement, I’ll mark you. Any objections?”

“No.”

Tang Cheng bent over the desk, left hand steady, and signed her name without hesitation. Unlike the awkward scrawl she had made at the police station a month ago, her signature now was firm, resolute.

What did it matter if it harmed her as an Alpha? This identity had always been stolen from Lu Xinxue. She was never meant to be one.

The agreement was signed in silence, exactly as expected.

They exchanged documents. Lu Xinxue’s handwriting was sharp, fluid, carrying the edge of the business world. No hesitation. This was a deal she intended to win.

Tang Cheng admired her for it. She adored everything about her—from her actions to her thoughts. Always braver than she was.

The contract complete, Lu Xinxue tucked it away.

“For now, I won’t dissolve the engagement. You’ll come whenever I call.”

For now. Which meant someday, inevitably, they would sever all ties.

The heat was fading. Lu Xinxue’s voice was cool, detached, stripped of warmth.

Tang Cheng nodded. “My home was trashed. I may need to stay here for a while.”

Lu Xinxue already knew. She inclined her head. “You’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Why? Don’t I have my own room?”

Her cold stare silenced Tang Cheng. She remembered waking before, the study and bedroom locked tight. Lu Xinxue guarded herself carefully.

And yet, she still kept Tang Cheng here. Why?

Even with pheromones as the excuse, something deeper was hidden beneath.

Lu Xinxue never took shortcuts. Unless this was the only path.

“Was it Zhang He or Zhou Yidong?” she asked.

Tang Cheng smiled faintly. “Zhang He.”

Suddenly, Zhang He’s red hair didn’t seem so offensive.

If Lu Xinxue didn’t care, how would she know so many details? How would she bother to intervene?

“Then handle it yourself. I don’t have time for your messes.”

The bluntness caught Tang Cheng off guard. Solve it herself? That would be troublesome.

“But I heard the Tang family and the Zhangs are working together.”

Lu Xinxue had left her a path.

It was like the childhood game of striking through the mountain—using Tang Cheng to plead with her grandmother, achieving her own ends.

Tang Cheng thought for a moment, then lifted her head, smiling. “Alright.”

Their eyes met briefly, then parted in tacit understanding.

Lu Xinxue’s gaze was the same as in their youth—distant, layered with meanings she couldn’t decipher.

“I bought tulips yesterday,” Tang Cheng said softly. “Is that square vase still here?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned to leave. She already knew where it was.

Her car, dismissed when she saw Zhong Rou, was parked safely outside. She carried her belongings in. Soon, her scattered things filled the sofa.

Her mechanical arm was carefully placed on the tea table. She opened her thick notebook, pages filled with new notes. The Lu Corporation interview was only days away, she needed to study hard.

Last night, the car had been warm, the tulips blooming in full. Tang Cheng cleaned the dust from the square vase and arranged the flowers neatly.

That vase had been bought by Lu Xinxue the first time Tang Cheng ever gave her tulips.

Since then, it had always sat on the coffee table. Flowers bloomed, withered, and were replaced, but the vase had never been empty.

Restoring its former vibrancy, Tang Cheng stepped into the kitchen. The refrigerator was still bare, save for a single bag of dumplings.

They would expire in a month. She boiled water and dropped them in.

When she carried the bowl upstairs to Lu Xinxue, the latter was still at her desk, fingers tapping across the keyboard. It was later than usual, she likely wasn’t going to the company today.

“Don’t you have something better to do?”

Her tone carried no pleasure at Tang Cheng’s gesture only irritation.

Tang Cheng caught it in her eyes: genuine anger, tinged with a helpless disappointment.

Unable to ignore it, she bent closer and asked softly, “What did I do wrong?”

Her gaze was clear, unguarded. Sweet basil spilled freely from her glands, saturating the air, wrapping around Lu Xinxue like a marinade. The heat of it pressed close. She spoke with youthful earnestness, yet her mature features made the moment feel strangely discordant.

Lu Xinxue couldn’t bear being stared at like that. She pushed her chair back sharply, widening the distance.

“Leave.”

The warmth had barely begun to spread before Tang Cheng was shut out.

But the breakfast remained on her desk. That, at least, was progress.

Downstairs, Tang Cheng threw herself into repairing the mechanical arm. She also placed an order for a new chip. Over the past month, she had stumbled upon a curious idea: what if a chip could replace human thought?

Early artificial intelligence had relied on networked chips connected to massive computers. Every answer was stored in a database, output through permutations. Without the network, without the computation, it was nothing but an empty shell.

But new machines could transmit thought through brainwaves—no network, no computer required. Activity itself became output. Without power, they became vessels. The concept could overturn the entire mechanical network.

Yet technology had stagnated for decades. Few dared to pursue such research.

For now, it was only a concept. Even after studying the WF734, Tang Cheng knew it was just a crude prototype, still dependent on computer simulation. To truly realize the idea, she needed more tests, more experiments.

And that meant money. She couldn’t rely on meager part-time wages. She needed stable funding. Lu Corporation was her best option.

Setting aside their personal ties, in all of A City, only Lu Corporation had the resources to support such an ambitious, almost impossible project.

The mechanical arm was soon repaired. Tang Cheng removed her lenses. No sound came from upstairs.

She rolled her stiff shoulders, but her mind kept circling back to Lu Xinxue’s words.

Her feelings toward Tang Cheng were complicated. What had happened in those six years? She avoided her, yet not entirely.

It was hatred, mixed with pity.

The shadows of six years would not vanish easily. Time was needed.

Tang Cheng steadied herself, ready to inspect the house for changes.

“What are you doing?”

The sharp voice came from above. Tang Cheng withdrew her hand from the storage room door and looked up at Lu Xinxue on the stairs. “I thought I’d help tidy up.”

Lu Xinxue’s cleanliness bordered on obsession. She hated her space being invaded. The house was regularly cleaned by hired staff, and over time she had developed a fierce possessiveness over every item. Even as a girl, she wouldn’t let anyone touch so much as a sugar cube.

“No need. Your place is the living room.”

Rejected, Tang Cheng quietly tucked away her thoughts and returned to the sofa.

Lu Xinxue had fully recovered. The redness at her eyes was gone. Her voice was cool, clear, her footsteps firm against the floor.

As she approached, the thyme scent was coated with an acrid plastic tang.

“How many suppressants did you take?” Tang Cheng asked.

Ordinary suppressants never worked on her. Only high-dose injections did and their plastic stench was unmistakable.

“Three,” Lu Xinxue answered plainly.

Tang Cheng rushed forward, gripping her arm, anger flaring at her disregard for her own health. “Why didn’t you call me? I told you, I was right downstairs.”

Three injections. A normal Omega needed only one per heat cycle.

“You’re the last resort.”

The words drained Tang Cheng’s strength.

Lu Xinxue pulled her arm free, her gaze falling on the mechanical arm on the table.

She changed the subject. “What’s it for?”

“To help me avoid mistakes with my left hand,” Tang Cheng replied.

Lu Xinxue’s eyes lingered on her left hand. The scars from her fight with Zhang He were still visible, scabbed over, raw flesh beneath. Pitiful.

“Uncle Sun will be here soon,” she said, withdrawing her gaze. After a pause, she added, “Tonight, nothing can go wrong.”