After My Fiancée Failed to Pretend to Be an Alpha - Chapter 21

When Lu Xinxue stepped out of the bathroom, the aroma of stir-fried dishes greeted her.

Tang Cheng’s cooking was exceptional. As a child, Lu Xinxue had been a picky eater, her diet irregular.

To care for her, Tang Cheng had learned to cook, eventually mastering the skill so well that Lu Xinxue became even more selective.

Later, when Tang Cheng entered the academy, they were separated. It became difficult to find anyone who could cook to her taste. With the wager signed with Grandmother and Lu Corporation entering its period of rapid growth, Lu Xinxue lived almost entirely at the office. Only on weekends, when Tang Cheng was free, did she cook for her, keeping her body functioning.

Thinking back on those days filled Lu Xinxue with nostalgia. Tang Cheng immersed herself in mechanics, while she devoted herself to the corporation. Though they met rarely, their bond was deep.

Downstairs, the clatter of dishes signaled the meal was nearly ready.

Her gaze flicked to the drawer where her neatly folded undergarments lay. She forced herself not to look again.

Descending the stairs, she caught the faint scent of vinegar. On the table sat tender lotus shoots, bright with red chilies—a rare delicacy.

Is she really a worm in my stomach?

“I went out to buy groceries today. I saw them and guessed you might want some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself with guesses.”

Still, Lu Xinxue sat down. Before her were brand-new bowls and chopsticks, purchased but never used. She disliked anyone entering her domain. The assistant had left them in the kitchen, but she herself had never stepped inside.

“At season’s end, lotus shoots can be tough. If you want more, I’ll go early tomorrow to buy fresh ones. There’s another dish coming.”

“I don’t like them anymore. People change.”

Tang Cheng only smiled. She wore a pink apron over her tall, mature frame, the sleeveless vest beneath barely covering her. Lu Xinxue lowered her head, ears warming beneath her hair.

Tang Cheng returned to the kitchen, sneaking glances at her. Even this isn’t allowed?

Lu Xinxue’s mouth watered—not for anything else, but for the lotus shoots.

The freshly stir-fried dish still steamed. She stared, dazed. The scene felt familiar, like something she had dreamed, or long awaited.

When Tang Cheng brought out golden chicken soup, Lu Xinxue’s stomach betrayed her with a growl.

She wasn’t sure if Tang Cheng heard. Hopefully not.

Tang Cheng placed a steaming bowl before her. “Try it. I haven’t lost my touch.”

“You’re just trying to please me for tomorrow’s interview.”

“I met the shop owner today. He promised to save me another pigeon for tomorrow.”

“Did you clean upstairs?”

“After the interview, we can pick it up together.”

Lu Xinxue fell silent. Tang Cheng always knew how to deflect, answering with unrelated chatter. Her questions never landed.

The hot soup spread warmth through her body, filling her with satisfaction.

When was the last time she had eaten a proper meal? Perhaps last month, at A University’s gate, when Tang Cheng had cooked simple home-style dishes.

Tang Cheng was relentless, piling her bowl with vegetables and chicken.

“I can’t eat this much.”

“I’m confident about the interview. I’ve been preparing intensively.”

“Eat it yourself.”

“I only tidied up. I didn’t touch your things.”

Lu Xinxue’s irritation eased, but shame returned at the thought of her undergarments.

Tang Cheng’s timing was always off—answering old questions only after moving on. Should she praise her for responding, or scold her for being slow?

Watching Lu Xinxue’s shifting expressions, Tang Cheng nearly laughed.

She knew Lu Xinxue couldn’t handle her. With someone so contradictory, surprise was the only tactic and it had always worked.

“From now on, don’t enter my room without permission.”

“Then you’ll clean it yourself?”

“Wasn’t it always you, all these years?”

“Axin, try this piece, it’s the most tender.”

Impossible to have a proper conversation.

Yet Lu Xinxue accepted the chicken breast, biting into its juicy tenderness.

“Don’t change the subject. Did you hear me?” she repeated.

Tang Cheng ignored her, offering lotus shoots instead. “See if my cooking has declined.”

Lu Xinxue: “….”

When Lu Xinxue finally gave up arguing, Tang Cheng leaned closer. “Remember back then? I used to wash your underwear by hand.”

Silence.

Lu Xinxue’s head snapped up, her face flushing from pale to crimson. She threw down her chopsticks. “I’m done. Eat it yourself.”

“Axin, Axin—sorry, I was wrong.” Tang Cheng grinned sheepishly.

In their most intimate years, they had been inseparable, sharing baths, cleaning each other’s clothes. It had been ordinary then.

But times had changed. At seventeen, they differentiated. Three years apart, six years separated again. Nearly a decade had passed. Ten years ago, Tang Cheng could touch her freely. Now, they were strangers.

“Don’t bring up the past!”

“Alright.”

Tang Cheng smiled, her eyes full of appeasement.

Starting over, what did it matter? As long as it was with Lu Xinxue, Tang Cheng would do it a thousand times without ever tiring.

Perhaps angered by Tang Cheng’s teasing, Lu Xinxue quickly finished her meal. Much food was left, but every dish Tang Cheng had placed in her bowl was eaten.

Today’s progress: one percent. At least Lu Xinxue now felt something toward her beyond mere dislike.

Tang Cheng returned to the coffee table, tidying her mechanical chip. She reconnected it to the computer for testing. This chip was far more complex than it appeared.

Traditional chips had limited storage—barely enough for emergency data beyond operating codes. But this one could replace a hard drive, store vast amounts of data, even function as a host with its own display.

No wonder such a small piece commanded such a high price.

For deeper testing, Tang Cheng would need a professional lab. With only her eyes and a computer, she couldn’t probe its intricacies.

And this was only what circulated publicly. Who knew how many generations internal tech companies had already advanced? What reached society was merely the downgraded version.

Tang Cheng leaned back on the sofa, applying eye drops. Her swollen eyes finally eased, and she exhaled in relief.

“What are you doing?”

Lu Xinxue appeared without warning, holding a mug, glancing sideways at her.

“Axin, the sofa’s too soft. My back hurts when I sleep here.”

Tang Cheng seized the moment, rising from the sofa. Her eyes glistened from the drops, her voice deliberately plaintive, making her look pitiful.

Tonight, Lu Xinxue hadn’t raised her thorns. Tang Cheng pressed her luck.

“You could move back to your own home.”

Lu Xinxue turned, pouring water, her words sharp again.

Tang Cheng had fought hard to stay, she wasn’t leaving.

She sprawled lazily on the sofa. Lu Xinxue’s figure was striking: when held, she felt all bone, yet her loose sleepwear revealed curves in all the right places. Tang Cheng’s thoughts wandered. Even like this, she was beautiful—so long as she didn’t speak those cruel words.

“No. It’s too dangerous. I don’t have a home anymore.”

Lu Xinxue turned back. Tang Cheng’s bright eyes shimmered with sorrow.

The summer heat pressed down. Tang Cheng’s sleeveless vest swayed before her, impossible to ignore.

The air grew stifling. One spark could set the room ablaze.

Their gazes met, then broke. Tang Cheng rose, approaching slowly.

Not fast, not slow—three breaths, and she stood beside Lu Xinxue.

Lu Xinxue leaned against the table, her spine rigid. They were nearly the same height, though Tang Cheng was slightly taller.

Tang Cheng stopped half a step away.

She reached out.

Lu Xinxue tightened her grip on the mug, her heartbeat quickening.

Tang Cheng’s hand brushed past, taking another cup. “Summer’s dry.”

Lu Xinxue raised her mug, pretending to drink. “Mm.”

“Axin, your face is burning.”

“No air conditioning.”

“The house has central climate control.”

Tang Cheng leaned closer, whispering.

The distance was too intimate. Lu Xinxue could see the fine pores on her skin. She pushed Tang Cheng away, her touch leaving a tingling trace.

“Keep your distance.”

She tried to change the subject, but when she glanced down, she caught sight of Tang Cheng’s vest—its cut revealing faint outlines beneath. Her ears flushed instantly. She forced herself to look up, only to meet Tang Cheng’s innocent gaze. She swallowed her words, feigning composure.

Until she could bear it no longer.

She turned to go upstairs.

“Axin, your ears are so red.”

Tang Cheng reached for her hand. Lu Xinxue yanked free, teeth clenched. “Tang Cheng, you’re doing this on purpose.”

“On purpose? What do you mean?”

She wanted to accuse her of dressing like that, but the words stuck. To say it felt indecent. To strike her would only invite Tang Cheng’s shameless grin. Nothing felt right.

Feigning innocence again, Lu Xinxue refused to argue.

She walked upstairs without looking back, hiding her blush.

“Axin!”

“What now?” she snapped.

“Good night.”

Lu Xinxue went upstairs. Tang Cheng leaned against the spot she had just occupied, glancing at the sofa she had left. From here, she should have seen me. Why no reaction? Or did she not notice?

Tang Cheng thought of last night’s candy, of Lu Xinxue’s flushed face, and her mood lifted.

She wasn’t good at harsh words. But teasing Lu Xinxue? That she could do.

After twenty years together, she knew exactly what worked on her. The only risk was whether she could handle the consequences later.

Tang Cheng raised her cup, drinking deeply. She glanced down. Couple’s mugs.

Perfect. In a few days, she would replace everything in the house with couple’s sets.