After the Divorce, My Wife Is Impossible to Coax - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

“Captain, it’s so strange. They haven’t given us any missions for two weeks. Is the world really this peaceful lately?”

Wen Yuncheng and a few teammates sat under a tree to rest after finishing their basic flight drills. Since An Zhaoyu returned from maternity leave, District 2 hadn’t received a single rescue mission. Every day was just routine flight training. Everyone was getting restless, feeling that their skills were going to waste. Usually, there were missions every day, whether involving animals or people.

“When Captain Wen Su was subbing, we still had plenty,” one Alpha muttered nearby, glancing at An Zhaoyu before trailing off.

Everyone knew what he meant. They blamed An Zhaoyu for taking leave, and now that she was back, they suddenly had no work.

“Wen Su was just a temp. If you want to go to District 1 so bad, go apply for a transfer. Who’s stopping you?” Wen Yuncheng snapped. Most Alphas who joined this team had ulterior motives; few truly respected An Zhaoyu, most having joined simply because she was an Omega.

“I didn’t say I wanted to go to District 1,” the Alpha said, turning his head away. “Maybe heaven is just looking out for the Captain, wanting her to rest a few more days. She is an Omega, after all.”

“Everyone, let’s drop it. That matter is in the past,” Jiang Qizheng said, opening a bottle of mineral water to offer to An Zhaoyu.

An Zhaoyu didn’t take it. She stood by the tree with her arms crossed, listening to their veiled complaints.

“I wonder if the Captain and Dr. Lu will have more kids later?” another Alpha sighed, seemingly preoccupied. “One maternity leave takes four or five months.”

The atmosphere suddenly went silent. Due to a sharp decline in population, the world was currently encouraging childbirth. An Omega’s expected contribution was three to five children. While the reality fell far short, people still used it as a benchmark. Alphas were even proposing that Omegas who hadn’t met their “quota” should be banned from using suppressants.

“Does my maternity leave have anything to do with you?” An Zhaoyu sneered. “Did I drag you along on my leave, or did I make you serve me like cattle?”

“If you’re so capable, you should have passed the Captain’s exam while I was gone and led your own team.”

The Captain’s certification involved dozens of rigorous tests. Very few members of the rescue team had passed. Many Alphas who failed were bitter toward an Omega who had passed with ease.

“If you can’t get a mission, go ask the dispatchers, don’t ask me how many kids I’m going to have. The problem is that missions aren’t being assigned to District 2, not that I can’t do the work.”

With that, she headed toward the dispatch center in the office building.

“I’ve been too busy to see Jiang Ling lately. Please tell her I’ll explain everything as soon as I have a free moment,” Wen Su said with an apologetic smile to Lu Shen.

“Mhm, but she might not listen,” Lu Shen replied. They had just stepped off a District 1 helicopter. A fire had broken out nearby, and the center had paired them up to assist injured firefighters.

“It’s fine,” Wen Su said, knowing Jiang Ling’s temperament. “By the way, I’m going to stop by the office building. I already gave the badge back to your Captain An, but it feels like I’m still working two jobs.”

“Is it that busy?” Lu Shen was confused. She felt like An Zhaoyu had been quite idle lately. An Zhaoyu was the type who couldn’t stay still; if she was too idle during the day, she tossed and turned at night.

“Yeah, haven’t you noticed? You’ve been paired with me for the last two missions,” Wen Su pointed to Lu Shen’s bag. “If you weren’t so buried in your research papers, you’d know how many rescue calls we’ve had lately.”

Lu Shen also found it strange. The whole center knew she was married to An Zhaoyu. When An Zhaoyu was pregnant, the dispatchers always tried to pair them together. Logically, they should be favoring that pairing even more now.

“I’ll go with you to take a look.”

As they reached the door of the dispatch room, they heard a conversation inside.

“I passed all the Captain’s exams. Why am I not qualified to take missions?” An Zhaoyu’s voice was distinct—usually carrying a hint of nonchalance even when suppressing anger.

“I’m sorry, Captain An. That was before your pregnancy. You’ve been on leave for four months. We cannot confirm if your physical condition and piloting skills are still at their original level.”

An Omega dispatcher sat in a leather chair, headphones around his neck and a fresh iced coffee in hand. He answered An Zhaoyu with practiced ease, his polished shoes gleaming as he crossed his legs.

“So you’re saying I need to pass the exams again?” An Zhaoyu laughed at the absurdity. “Is this a center requirement, or just your personal opinion?”

It had only been four months—the standard maternity leave period. She wasn’t an outlier.

Outside, Wen Su looked at Lu Shen. Lu Shen was looking down, deep in thought. The situation was obvious.

“Not necessarily,” the dispatcher didn’t answer her second question. He tapped his coffee cup. “The requirements for regular crew members aren’t that high.”

“You want me to step down as Captain?” An Zhaoyu understood. “What do you gain from me stepping down?”

The dispatcher looked away, appearing slightly guilty. He was a newcomer. The previous dispatcher for Districts 1 and 2 had been direct and efficient. No one knew why they had been suddenly transferred.

“You’re an Omega yourself. Won’t you need maternity leave someday?”

At times like this, An Zhaoyu felt a profound mental exhaustion. It was one thing for Alphas to make things difficult, but the ones who often hindered her progress were Omegas of her own gender. They seemed indoctrinated to serve Alphas and ruthlessly exclude other Omegas—especially those who married Alphas.

“I don’t steal Alpha’s work! Answering phones doesn’t require me to show my face in public,” he replied righteously.

“Hmph.” An Zhaoyu didn’t bother arguing. She turned to leave.

She was surprised to run into Lu Shen and Wen Su at the door, both in their uniforms. Her eyes met Lu Shen’s. They had barely spoken lately. Lu Shen was naturally quiet, and An Zhaoyu simply didn’t want to talk—not after Lu Shen had pushed her away.

Seeing them together now, looking like they had just completed a mission, made An Zhaoyu’s discomfort double. She didn’t say a word to Lu Shen, walking right past them and out of the building.

Lu Shen knew she was hurting. An Zhaoyu was a person of great pride; she hated showing weakness. If she faced a setback, she would isolate herself and process it alone until she overcame it.

By the time Lu Shen thought to tell Wen Su to stay back, the dispatcher had already come out.

“Do you need my help?” Wen Su asked, noticing Lu Shen’s distraction. If District 1 refused some missions, the dispatcher would have to give them to District 2. It was a reasonable solution, but if An Zhaoyu found out, it would only make her feel worse—like an Alpha’s charity.

“No, she doesn’t need it,” Lu Shen refused.

“Then I won’t interfere,” Wen Su smiled. “You seem to trust her a lot.”

On the drive home, An Zhaoyu remained silent.

“Let’s go buy some things for Xiao Zhou,” Lu Shen suggested as they approached the city center mall. They were running low on diapers and bibs.

“Okay.” An Zhaoyu opened the map on her phone. She didn’t pay much attention to baby supplies; her mother prepared many, and Lu Shen handled the rest.

At the baby store, Lu Shen quickly named the brand of diapers she wanted.

“We have several other popular brands you could try,” the Beta salesperson suggested.

“Thank you, but she gets heat rashes easily with those,” Lu Shen replied. She knew every detail of what the baby used.

“Understood. I’ll pack these for you then.”

An Zhaoyu watched them, knowing nothing about the brands they were discussing.

“By the way, do you experience any engorgement? Do you need a breast pump? It makes nursing much easier and helps measure the baby’s intake,” the salesperson said, assuming Lu Shen was the mother. After all, who else but the birth mother would be so attentive to these details?

“No need,” Lu Shen said, turning away as she felt An Zhaoyu’s gaze.

“Are you out with the baby’s mother? You two have such a great sisterly bond,” the salesperson said to An Zhaoyu, not wanting to leave her out.

“I’m the mother of her child,” An Zhaoyu said tonelessly.

The salesperson took a few seconds to process the relationship, offering an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I rarely see couples like you.”

“It’s fine,” An Zhaoyu said dismissively. She didn’t care if they were “rare” or if she seemed like an irresponsible mother.

After picking up the baby from He Nanchun, An Zhaoyu drove them home.

“I’m going out for a bit, I’ll be back late,” An Zhaoyu said outside the elevator in the garage, twirling her keys. “I’ll bring the stuff from the car up when I get back.”

“Okay,” Lu Shen didn’t ask where she was going and took the baby into the elevator.

An Zhaoyu got back into the driver’s seat and started the engine. As the elevator doors closed, Lu Shen heard the chord-like roar of a high-cylinder engine. She was driving the sports car.

An Zhaoyu cranked up the rock music she used to love and drove at the city’s maximum speed limit. A bone-deep sense of loneliness washed over her. Since choosing the path of a pilot, it felt like she was fighting the whole world alone.

Her parents had been worried; her mother thought the job was too hard for an Omega, and her father thought the Alpha-dominated environment was unsuitable. But the eighteen-year-old An Zhaoyu didn’t care. She pursued her dream and graduated at the top of her class.

Yet, when applying for jobs, her top scores and awards meant nothing against the gender of an Alpha. She was cut after the first round, while Alphas who had barely passed their exams were hired. Her Omega friends couldn’t understand her frustration, suggesting she just take a desk job at her family’s company.

Coming to the medical center had eased those feelings, but now she was being blocked by another Omega—someone of her own gender demanding she hand her status to an Alpha.

She pulled the steering wheel and headed away from the city toward the mountains on the border of S City and Z City. The winding terrain was a natural racetrack.

An Zhaoyu had her F1 Super License. Only 100 drivers in the world were qualified to drive F1 cars each year. An Zhaoyu had started karting at eight and earned her F1 license in eight years. She was the youngest F1 driver and the only Omega with a license.

The track owner was a male Alpha with a limp, known as “The Captain” because he had broken his leg during a flight competition. He had nearly won the International Golden Eagle Flight Competition—the same one Wen Yuncheng and the others had discussed. After the accident, he opened this track, featuring everything from F3 to F1 cars.

“Captain An, it’s been a long time,” the Captain said, leaning against the railing with a cigarette.

“I want a run,” An Zhaoyu said, sliding her license and black gold card toward him.

The Captain took the card. He had been a man of pride, but now his eyes were filled with the shrewdness of a businessman. He picked out a red car with a newly assembled F3 engine for her.

“Having trouble?” he asked.

“Small stuff,” An Zhaoyu said, checking the engine. “Call them in.”

She wasn’t driving F1 because no one else there had an F1 license. To race others, she had to drop down to F3. The Captain waved a checkered flag, and soon twenty drivers in racing suits appeared—all Alphas.

“Captain, is this our prize for winning today? An SSS-rank… where did you find her?” one Alpha said, looking An Zhaoyu up and down.

“Wow, I’m motivated today,” a female Alpha in a white suit whistled.

An Zhaoyu placed her helmet on the hood. “If I win, all your licenses are voluntarily revoked, and you can’t touch a car for three years.”

“What if you lose? How about serving each of us for a day?”

“I want the first day! It’s no fun after she’s broken.”

“Revoke my license if I lose,” An Zhaoyu said, her voice unchanged. “The stakes should be equal. I have no interest in your glands; cutting them off and hanging them on the mountain isn’t environmentally friendly.”

“Just use the licenses. I run a legal business here,” the Captain smiled. He knew the Alphas who raced An Zhaoyu never came back a second time.

Before starting, An Zhaoyu’s phone buzzed. It was a message in the family group. It was from Lu Shen. Lu Shen rarely posted, so An Zhaoyu checked it.

It was a video of An Zhou on the bed, practicing lifting her head. A long, slender hand patted her back rhythmically.

—Two months and five days. Xiao Zhou is practicing lifting her head. Great progress.

Lu Shen recorded the milestone like a diary entry. Her family members were all praising the baby in the chat. An Zhaoyu said nothing, but she watched the video twice and saved it. A strange feeling washed over her; at the moment the baby lifted her head, she suddenly felt less alone.

The race wasn’t a formal championship; it was five laps around a five-kilometer track. F3 cars have less horsepower than F1, and everyone used the same engine. It was purely about skill.

In the past, An Zhaoyu had been intentionally hindered by Alphas working together to block her. But the Captain, though greedy, was a fair referee with a deep respect for competition. And An Zhaoyu was no longer a novice.

By the time An Zhaoyu crossed the finish line, no one could even see her tailpipe.

“All licenses revoked,” she said as the Captain returned her F1 license. He dumped the twenty licenses into a water tank.

An Zhaoyu went to the second-floor teahouse to rest. The Captain’s young daughter was there doing her homework.

“Feeling better?” the Captain asked, preparing tea. He rarely invited customers for tea, but An Zhaoyu was different. She had talent and had once studied his training methods.

“Golden Eagle is coming up in six months. Think about it,” the Captain said, handing her a cup. “If you win, no one will ever doubt your strength again.”

The Golden Eagle was the pinnacle for pilots, but it was incredibly dangerous. Many dropped out, and some, like the Captain, had accidents. It was like gambling with your life.

“You can’t do it, so you’re pushing me?” An Zhaoyu smelled the tea.

“You have the skill and the desire to prove yourself. Why not try?”

An Zhaoyu went silent. This had been her dream at eighteen.

“My daughter,” she said, showing him a photo of An Zhou.

The Captain was shocked. “Yours?”

“Doesn’t she look like me?”

“Exactly like you,” the Captain sighed. “Is that why they’re discriminating against you?”

“They say my skills will drop because I had a kid. They want me to step down.”

“Only if they’re capable of taking your place. You’re being envied. People with talent always face this.”

“But you aren’t marked,” the Captain noted.

“My wife is a Beta.”

“I see. Interesting.”

Knowing she had a child, the Captain stopped pushing her to race. He looked at her as if seeing his younger self.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not like you. I won’t be tied down by these things. I just need time to think.”

On her way home, An Zhaoyu ran into Wei Jinlin. He had likely been tipped off by one of the Alphas from the race.

“Xiaoyu, why didn’t you tell me you were coming here? I would have made sure you had a good time,” Wei Jinlin said, approaching her with his bodyguards.

He had already dealt with the Alphas from the race who were looking for her. They were now lying on the ground like dying dogs.

“Was it you harassing Lu Shen?” An Zhaoyu asked.

“She complained to you?” Wei Jinlin’s smile vanished. “What a bitch!”

An Zhaoyu’s eyes turned cold.

“You don’t know. Her mother was an Omega marked by countless Alphas. She’s filthy,” Wei Jinlin hissed. “And Lu Shen is the same. She had a thing with my father, and the Wen family—”

An Zhaoyu didn’t let him finish, slamming her elbow into his mouth.

“Ow! Why did you hit me!” Wei Jinlin clutched his bleeding mouth. A tooth felt loose.

“You ask why I hit you?” An Zhaoyu rubbed her wrist.

“She tricked you!” Wei Jinlin screamed. “She’s not clean!”

An Zhaoyu raised her hand again, and he ducked. The bodyguards didn’t interfere; they knew she was SSS-rank and He Linghan’s granddaughter.

“If you harass Lu Shen again, I’ll hit you every time I see you,” An Zhaoyu said. “Next time it won’t be this light.”

“She must have drugged you,” Wei Jinlin muttered, both fearing her and wanting to be near her. “She’s not as pure as she looks.”

An Zhaoyu ignored him and got into her car.

“Let me see you home, Xiaoyu, it’s late,” Wei Jinlin called out from a safe distance.

“Get lost,” An Zhaoyu said, leaving him in a cloud of exhaust.

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