After My Fiancée Failed to Pretend to Be an Alpha - Chapter 45

Lu Xinxue’s voice was so gentle that Tang Cheng’s tears fell like beads of blood from her finger—wipe one away, and another appeared.

Lu Xinxue had paved her path, prepared surprises and solace alike. This was her greatest expression of love, a devotion reserved only for Tang Cheng.

“How did you find all these? I hid them for so long.”

Tang Cheng’s voice trembled, tinged with grievance.

“I searched. I knew you kept them.”

“I was afraid you’d throw them away.”

Her gaze lingered on the old relics. If even these vanished, who but Lu Xinxue could prove she had existed these past twenty years?

Lu Xinxue disliked old things—their scent of decay, their useless melancholy. Yet she had resisted her instinct, leaving the room untouched, preserving its sorrow.

Tang Cheng looked around. The sight burned in her chest like fireworks, refusing to fade.

“They’ll never be lost.”

Still, she couldn’t reconcile it. Lu Xinxue cared for her, fought fiercely for the Lu Group, yet she both barred Tang Cheng from company affairs and invited her in. Contradictions that didn’t fit her nature.

“I went home the other day. In the workshop, I found a chip I’d researched long ago. A bio-energy chip.”

“I remember it.”

“It’s rare now. Yu Xia’an’s reaction was strange.”

Silence. Then: “Don’t worry. She must have her reasons.”

Tang Cheng sensed something off in her tone, but before she could press, Lu Xinxue cut her off: “I heard Tang Siyuan has returned.”

She didn’t want questions about Yu Xia’an. Tang Cheng saw the evasion in her eyes. There was something hidden, something only Yu Xia’an could reveal.

So, she followed her lead. “Tang Qinggu messaged me. The shareholders’ meeting is in two days.”

“Good. I’ll have my secretary accompany you. I have other matters.”

A meeting already under control, Lu Xinxue needn’t attend.

Tang Cheng agreed, but curiosity lingered. “Why did you choose Tang Qinggu?”

Lu Xinxue likely guessed she had spoken with her sister. Many questions weighed on Tang Cheng’s heart.

“Because she has a ruthless endurance.”

“Endurance?”

“She returned years ago, was slapped publicly by Tang Siyuan, forced to kneel and apologize. To endure such humiliation and rise to now, that takes grit.”

Her voice was cold, but admiration was clear.

At eighteen, Tang Qinggu had differentiated as a Beta, caring for her sixteen-year-old brother in a hostile family. As a child of a former wife, without maternal backing, and as a Beta, she had no leverage in marriage alliances. Her position was fragile.

Her ticket to Paris, her escape, was torn up by Liu Xiangqin. The piano world never saw her name again. At eighteen, she entered Tang Corporation from the bottom.

For five years, under Liu Xiangqin’s control, she clawed her way upward. To force Liu out, she used her subsidiary to inflate cooperation costs, slashing profits by half. Liu was ousted, and Tang Qinggu became acting CEO.

At the mid-year meeting, Liu exposed her tactics. Tang Siyuan struck her across the face before everyone.

The sound echoed, drawing every eye.

Before the crowd, the proud eldest daughter knelt, head bowed, whispering the weakest words:

“I was wrong, Father.”

With Tang Siyuan’s 31% of shares, he could topple her at any time. Her projects held only 20%.

Tang Cheng lowered her gaze. “She was alone?”

“Alone.”

Once, she too had been alone, but she had Lu Xinxue. Who did Tang Qinggu cling to in despair?

She remembered her saying someone important awaited her at home. Was it Zhong Rou?

She couldn’t guess, and Lu Xinxue didn’t know either. “After the meeting, we should speak with her properly.”

Tang Cheng agreed, though sadness lingered born of Wu Lan, and of Tang Qinggu.

They spoke a while longer, then went downstairs to eat the dinner Tang Cheng had prepared.

The night stretched long, time itself bending to make up for what was lost.

With the meeting ahead, Tang Cheng studied finance, determined not to falter.

She carried Lu Xinxue’s recommended books to the office, finding everyone unusually early.

“What are you working on?”

She peered closer. A black box, sealed. Yu Xia’an’s expression betrayed excitement.

“A chip repair device.”

Tang Cheng had heard of such concepts back at A University—using sonar waves to detect chips, even link and repair them without removal. It could save costs, preserve materials. The challenge lay in sonar detection—chips were tiny, interference complex.

If perfected, chips could be repaired in place, no extraction needed. But with advancing technology, chips rarely failed. It was an enhancement, not a revolution.

So, this was Yu Xia’an’s secret project? Tang Cheng felt a pang of disappointment.

“For now, it only detects. Here, test it.”

Yu Xia’an handed her a chip. Tang Cheng set down her book, took it silently, and followed instructions.

Yu Xia’an adjusted the range to five meters, directing her forward.

Step by step.

“Beep!”

“Success?”

“Beep-beep-beep!”

The box shrieked. Yu Xia’an frowned. “Looks like failure.”

She shut it down, connected it to her computer, searching for the fault.

“Again.”

Tang Cheng tried once more. Same result—unstable.

“It’s the core. Needs more work.”

She carried the box into the lab. Xie Chensong took the chip from Tang Cheng’s hand.

“This is what she’s been working on?”

“Yes.”

In truth, the chip repair device held little significance. For mechanics, it was merely ornamental—an embellishment rather than a breakthrough. Tang Cheng remained unconvinced that Yu Xia’an’s research offered any real advancement.

She reached for her book, preparing for tomorrow’s shareholders’ meeting.

“Tang Cheng, what do you think?”

Yu Xia’an emerged from the lab, removing her goggles, testing her tone.

“It’s stabilizing. There’s room for improvement.”

She brushed aside Tang Cheng’s book, eyes locking onto hers. “That’s very official.”

“I think it’s meaningless. If a chip can no longer run, why force repairs?”

“Meaningless?” Yu Xia’an repeated sharply, her gaze hardening. “You think our research is meaningless?”

Realizing her seriousness, Tang Cheng set the book down, replying calmly: “Repeating old results, moving forward one step at a time?”

“You’re reckless.”

“Better to blaze a new trail than stand still.”

Yu Xia’an gave a short laugh, hands on her hips. “Then tell me, why did you study mechanics?”

Tang Cheng hesitated. For Lu Xinxue. But she couldn’t say the name aloud. She glanced at Yu Xia’an, knowing no other reason.

“You have talent,” Yu Xia’an said with a smile, “but beyond that, nothing. You’ve been here a month, where’s your new path? That outdated failure of a chip is all you’ve shown. Xie Chensong has completed two reports, published in Mechanical Weekly. Yuan Jie rebuilt the building’s systems, enhancing security. Even Yu Fan, with less talent, can manage an entire team’s work. Do you think anyone here isn’t working for the president?”

Tang Cheng faltered. She realized Lu Xinxue was her only reason, but she was not Lu Xinxue’s only reason.

“You don’t understand creation. You don’t love mechanics. Without that, you’ll never sustain output. What you make has no life, it’s bitter. That’s why you chase new paths.”

Tang Cheng: “?”

“As a mechanic, you should know—no one ascends in a single step. Only steady progress achieves the goal.”

Tang Cheng: “?”

“You’ll burn out your talent, and end as nothing.”

Tang Cheng lowered her gaze. She had to admit Yu Xia’an was right. Without Lu Xinxue, she was nothing more than a drifting repairer, like a month ago. Only Lu Xinxue’s stern gaze revived her, restored her brilliance.

She had lost six years. She couldn’t afford slow steps. To reclaim her place as a genius, she had to forge a path that could change the field itself.

Without Lu Xinxue, she was a toy without a spring—useless. Forcing the gears would only consume her faster.

Yu Xia’an’s words pierced her hidden fear.

Tang Cheng sighed. “I don’t care.”

The argument ended unresolved. Yu Xia’an shook her head, returning to her lab. Tang Cheng sat, mind unsettled.

She knew Yu Xia’an was right—she was burning her gift, chasing the phantom of bio-energy chips. Without steady accumulation, she risked collapse. Like an athlete ignoring training to chase world records—wasting time.

But she didn’t care about being genius or failure. She only knew Lu Xinxue’s partner could not be a failure. She refused to sink. Exhaling, she opened her finance book, forcing herself back into focus.

The office air remained tense, strange.

Tang Cheng would not change her mind. She had no time for slow growth. She had to finish the research quickly, identify her flaws, and ensure no one could harm Lu Xinxue.

It was difficult, but it was her only path.

She hadn’t thought about the future. Even if it consumed her talent, even if she became nothing, even if she lost Lu Xinxue—she would keep her safe.

Yu Xia’an didn’t know her circumstances, so she had no right to lecture. In truth, Tang Cheng and Lu Xinxue were alike—unyielding, unchangeable.

At dusk, Tang Cheng was the first to leave, escaping the eerie quiet.

The next day, she took leave, preparing at home for the shareholders’ meeting. Borrowing one of Lu Xinxue’s suits, she arranged with Tang Qinggu at noon, then drove with Lu Xinxue’s secretary to Tang Corporation.

The Tang building wasn’t as grand as Lu Group’s, but as an internet giant, it was formidable.

Tang Qinggu herself came down to meet her, with her younger brother Tang Han in tow.

He looked surprised to see Tang Cheng, Alpha scent faint on him. She subtly stepped aside to avoid contact.

Tang Han was tasked with entertaining the secretary. Tang Cheng went with Tang Qinggu alone.

“He doesn’t know your plan?”

“I haven’t told anyone.”

In the elevator, Tang Cheng asked quietly, “Your brother, dating someone?”

Tang Qinggu replied, “Not yet.”