Becoming the Yandere Omega's Fluffy Pet - Chapter 51 

Chapter 51

She wasn’t sure if Ming Siyu’s “doting” on her was temporary; she worried that one day things might return to the way they were before.

Auntie Chen answered the call. Liu Ran asked about Bai Yu’s recent condition and wished them a Happy New Year.

Auntie Chen asked if she was coming over soon. Liu Ran thought about it and decided to find an opportunity to visit again in the next day or two.

Unknowingly, it had grown dark. After hanging up, she silenced her backup phone and put it in the partition of her backpack. A notice in the class group mentioned a New Year’s Eve gala at the school auditorium at 8:00 PM tonight, encouraging everyone to attend.

Liu Ran wasn’t interested in the gala; she walked around the campus for a while, preparing to go home. However, the counselor, seeing that enthusiasm was low perhaps because the school had issued a quota for attendance—changed the rule: “Checking in at the auditorium can earn ‘Second Classroom’ credit hours based on the actual duration of attendance.”

Liu Ran’s Second Classroom credits were still in the single digits. Such an easy activity to earn credits was rare, so she changed her plans on the spot. She told Qi Zhen she wouldn’t be back for dinner, bought some snacks at the campus food street, and went to the auditorium.

The auditorium was quite crowded. Initially, Liu Ran sat in the back, but just before the start, someone wanted to swap seats with her, moving her to the edge of the front row. Liu Ran took a photo and sent it to Ming Siyu, telling her she was at the school auditorium watching the gala.

The content of the gala was unexpectedly rich. A-University was full of talent, with experts in singing, dancing, and instrumental performance; the skits were original. Audiences who initially came for the credits were eventually fully immersed. The gala lasted two hours, yet it felt as if only a cup of tea’s time had passed before reaching the final program.

The dance club had specially invited professional ballet students from the neighboring Imperial Dance Academy to perform “Waltz of the Flowers,” a classic segment from The Nutcracker.

After the curtain call, the applause was thunderous.

Finally, the host came on stage for the closing remarks, and the gala ended successfully. The thousands of seats in the auditorium were full; being in the front row, Liu Ran waited several minutes before following the slow-moving crowd out.

Ming Siyu sent a message asking which auditorium she was in. As Liu Ran lowered her head to reply while walking down the stairs, a series of light footsteps caught up to her, and a sweet, clear voice called out: “Classmate, classmate, wait a second.”

Liu Ran paused and turned back, confirming the person was calling her. The girl was wrapped in an ankle-length down jacket, the stage makeup on her face still unwashed—she was the ballet dancer who had just performed The Nutcracker.

“Are you… Ranran? Shen, Liu, Ran? I didn’t get it wrong, did I? I shouldn’t have.”

Having not heard that name for so long, Liu Ran felt as if she had been struck by a heavy hammer; she was stunned for two seconds. Before undergoing the modification, she had changed her name, taking the last two characters of her original name. Later, everyone she knew called her Liu Ran, and she had accepted the name herself.

“I’m sorry, I’m not.” Liu Ran instinctively tightened her collar. That name represented her past, and she didn’t have the strength to face it. She wanted to avoid the people and things of the past at all costs. And indeed, she wasn’t that person anymore. “You have the wrong person.”

“My name is Zhu Xinghan, I just danced the Sugar Plum Fairy. Before going on stage, I saw you sitting in the front from backstage; you look exactly like a high school classmate of mine. That classmate suddenly lost contact during the summer after the college entrance exams. I tried several times but couldn’t reach her. I heard she went abroad. Seeing you just now, I thought it was her…” Zhu Xinghan smiled and took her phone out of her pocket. “Wrong person, my apologies. But can I add you on WeChat? I feel we have a lot of fate.”

Zhu Xinghan… a delicate and exquisite face popped into her mind. It was indeed her high school classmate, who often took leave to practice dance. She hadn’t recognized her because Zhu Xinghan’s stage makeup was currently too thick.

Liu Ran gave an apologetic smile: “I didn’t bring my phone with me.”

Zhu Xinghan seemed not to understand the rejection in her words. Or perhaps she understood but didn’t want to let her walk away, pretending she didn’t get it. “What is your phone number? I’ll note it down and add you first. Remember to accept it after you get back, okay? Otherwise, I’ll have to go to the school confession wall to track you down.”

Liu Ran remembered Zhu Xinghan as a very shy and introverted girl in high school; she had changed.

She usually wouldn’t reject someone bluntly, preferring to use various excuses as hints. Most people would leave tactfully after receiving the hint to avoid an awkward scene. But there were always those unwilling to accept the hint.

Liu Ran paused. “Sorry, classmate, it’s not very convenient for me to add you on WeChat.”

As she spoke, her gaze was slightly downcast, the brow bone casting a heavy shadow under her eyes. Exactly like the person in memory. Zhu Xinghan, being rejected repeatedly, was on the verge of crying from embarrassment, but she truly didn’t want to let this person who looked so much like her “White Moonlight” walk away.

“Can I ask why? Is it because you have a girlf—”

Before the sentence could be finished, it was interrupted by a clear, cool voice.

“Liu Ran.”

Liu Ran turned around abruptly. The large lights in front of the auditorium illuminated the road. Ming Siyu walked over step by step with her hands in her pockets. The other groups of people were automatically filtered out of view, as if Ming Siyu were the only person on the road—the auditorium lights were her runway lights.

Shouldn’t Ming Siyu be in Yuncheng for the annual meeting right now? How could she suddenly appear here?

So, asking her which specific auditorium she was in just now was…

Zhu Xinghan’s face turned pale. However, due to the makeup, the change in her complexion wasn’t visible.

Fearing Ming Siyu would misunderstand, Liu Ran didn’t ask why she had suddenly come but explained first: “This is a dancer who performed The Nutcracker. The lighting was dim, and she mistook me for her classmate.”

Zhu Xinghan reached out her hand to Ming Siyu: “Hello, my name is Zhu Xinghan. And you are?”

Ming Siyu did not shake her hand. “I am her company boss.”

Zhu Xinghan instantly breathed a sigh of relief. But was it just the boss? She observed the atmosphere between the two and felt it didn’t quite seem like it. However, as long as it wasn’t a girlfriend, it was fine. Lowering her hand, she said, “Classmate, can we continue the question from before? Why is it inconvenient?”

Ming Siyu had already guessed most of it. The way Zhu Xinghan looked at Liu Ran made her very uncomfortable.

Liu Ran had a striking appearance and a soft, non-aggressive personality; many people liked this type. In the past, if she found Liu Ran talking to someone, she would at most feel a bit offended or think the little wolf wasn’t being particularly good; she’d say a few words to satisfy her mouth and let it go. She knew in her heart that Liu Ran wouldn’t take things further with those people.

But this Zhu Xinghan gave her a different feeling than the others.

“She is a signed trainee waiting to debut from our company; we have to protect her privacy, you understand?” Before Liu Ran could speak, Ming Siyu started making things up. “Of course, not just anyone who wants her contact info can have it.”

“Really? So that means there’s no girlfriend?” Zhu Xinghan’s eyes lit up.

Ming Siyu gave a hollow laugh. “That’s right. You can wait for her to debut and then buy her merch to give me money.”

Liu Ran didn’t want to continue a conversation that made everyone awkward. She made an excuse that she had business and led Ming Siyu away.

Back in the car, as soon as she turned and closed the door, Ming Siyu leaned over and pinned her against the door, warning sternly: “That person just now—you are not allowed to see her again.”

Liu Ran supported her waist and said softly, “She’s from the dance academy next door; she only came to A-University for a performance. We won’t meet.”

Compared to Zhu Xinghan, she was more concerned about why Ming Siyu had suddenly appeared here.

“President Ming, why did you come back from Yuncheng early…”

Ming Siyu snorted and took off her glasses. It was cold outside but warm in the car; a layer of white mist had formed on the lenses as soon as she entered.

She casually hooked the glasses onto the top of Liu Ran’s head. “I had a premonition that you would meet that ‘Star’ person, so I came back early to prevent an affair.”

Liu Ran frowned; she didn’t like that word.

“There’s nothing between me and her, and I didn’t add her on WeChat. Besides, maybe she just wanted to get to know a friend. Don’t use such ugly words, okay?”

Ming Siyu didn’t want to start an argument over this. And Liu Ran looked very aggrieved.

She said indifferently, “She’d better just want to know a friend.”

She retreated to the passenger seat. Liu Ran’s hands felt empty.

Liu Ran turned down the heating a bit. “You still haven’t said why you came back early.”

“Someone put a wolf tail keychain in my suitcase. Wasn’t that just to make me come back?”

Ming Siyu arrived in Yuncheng at noon. Opening her suitcase, inside were not only the clothes she was to wear but also a stick of aromatherapy incense used to aid sleep, one of the plush dolls from her bed, and a furry wolf tail keychain that looked almost real. A note was attached: If you can’t sleep, pretend this is my tail.

The hotel room was also exceptionally comfortable. Ming Siyu observed for a while and realized the reason for the comfort came from the scent in the air, the texture of the bedding, and the overall lighting atmosphere. It was very similar to her bedroom at home.

After asking the front desk, she learned that someone had instructed them to make these changes when booking the room.

Breathing the warm, fresh air of Yuncheng, Ming Siyu suddenly began to miss the cold air of A-City.

No matter how bone-chilling the air was, the body in her embrace was always warm. For a moment, Ming Siyu felt that her life, which had been at a low point since her illness, had reached a peak: a successful career, and a little wolf so good she couldn’t put her down.

She immediately had someone book a ticket back to A-City. She gave her speech at the annual meeting ahead of time, arrived at the airport on the dot, and the flight wasn’t delayed. The cold of A-City hitting her face upon landing made Ming Siyu shiver.

In such a cold winter day, a tiny sprout grew in Ming Siyu’s heart: she wanted to live well with Liu Ran. For the remaining months, she wanted to be warm and cozy with Liu Ran.

She had money and didn’t need to worry about a living. If she wanted to, she could sell the company at any time, drop her duties at the conglomerate, and take Liu Ran to travel the world. She didn’t care about the past, and she didn’t want to think about the future—as He Qiange often told her, live in the moment.

This thought rolled around in her heart, but when the wind of A-City blew over it, it cooled. Ming Siyu knew she couldn’t just walk away.

Liu Ran took the glasses off her head, found a tissue to wipe away the mist, and returned them to Ming Siyu.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be able to sleep. Back in Country B, couldn’t you fall asleep by holding my tail? That toy is similar to the tail; maybe you would have fallen asleep holding it.”

“Then I misunderstood your meaning.” Ming Siyu took the glasses and put them on, saying with a bit of regret: “I thought you were catering to my tastes, hinting for me to come back and spend New Year’s Eve with you.”

Liu Ran rubbed her nose. She tended to rub her nose subconsciously whenever she was nervous.

She hummed softly, “It wasn’t a complete misunderstanding…”

Putting a wolf tail in Ming Siyu’s suitcase—was there truly no other meaning? Was it truly just to help Ming Siyu sleep?

Liu Ran admitted she wasn’t that kind-hearted.

She wanted Ming Siyu to see the tail and think of her.

But she hadn’t expected Ming Siyu to fly back from Yuncheng without a word.

The moment Ming Siyu appeared on the road in front of the auditorium, the whole world seemed to stand still, and a BGM started playing automatically in her ears.

“Hm?” Ming Siyu squinted at her. “Finish your sentence, Liu Ran.”

Whenever Ming Siyu used her full name, she felt the sheepishness of being disciplined by a superior; her body was out of her control, only able to obey commands.

Liu Ran’s hand holding the steering wheel began to tremble.

Why had this car suddenly become so difficult to drive?

“Being able to spend New Year’s Eve with you—”

Interrupted.

“There are only the two of us now. What is our relationship?”

Sticky sweat seeped from Liu Ran’s palms.

“It’s Master… and little wolf.”

Ming Siyu: “When the little wolf speaks to the Master, you should use ‘You’ (formal) and ‘Please’.”

Liu Ran bit her lip. So shameful… and also a little… exciting.

“To be able to spend New Year’s Eve with You… is my honor… Master.”

The more she spoke, the lower her voice became.

After saying the last word, her entire body suddenly felt light.

Actually, a title like “Master”—after saying it many times, it wasn’t as hard to utter as at the beginning. It gradually turned into a kind of flirtation. Liu Ran found that whenever she called her “Master,” her body would be more excited, and Ming Siyu would give a more obvious reaction. Then, like a truly magnanimous Master, she would allow her to indulge a little.

Ming Siyu unfastened the seatbelt she had just buckled.

In the darkness, Ming Siyu licked her lips. “We haven’t tried it in a car yet, have we?”

Hearing this, Liu Ran’s breathing became uneven.

“We’re in the school.”

“Yes, people could pass by at any time. So keep your movements small; don’t let passersby find out.”

Ming Siyu rummaged through the car and found a pack of disinfectant wipes, tossing the whole pack onto Liu Ran.

“Wipe your hands clean.”

As usual, marking was not allowed.

Liu Ran held Ming Siyu, their breaths intertwining, casting a layer of ambiguous mist over the car window.

Blinking her wet eyelashes, she called out in a muddled voice, “President Ming… Master…”

Ming Siyu sobbed softly in the aftermath. Hearing Liu Ran’s voice, she knew she was crying again. She reached back and touched Liu Ran’s wet little face. “Crying from exhaustion? Next time I’ll buy an electric one to replace you.”

Slightly damp ears rubbed against the neck, itchy.

“No. I’m not tired,” Liu Ran said in a muffled voice. She tended to cry when her emotions were overflowing.

Ming Siyu couldn’t understand. “You’re not a mermaid; your tears won’t turn into pearls.”

Liu Ran recounted the “Clam and Pearl” theory Bai Yu used to comfort her when she was a child. Of course, she didn’t mention Bai Yu’s name, replacing “Mom said” with “Someone said.”

After hearing it, Ming Siyu understood even less. “I just don’t get why you’d rather be a clam than a puppy. A clam is a mollusk, a puppy is a mammal; a puppy is much more advanced than a clam.”

On second thought, Liu Ran seemed to be doing well as a puppy lately, so she added: “I mean before.”

Liu Ran sighed: “It’s not the same thing.”

At this moment, thousands of drones suddenly rose in the distant sky, starting a countdown in the pitch-black night: 10, 9, 8…

She hurriedly looked down at the time; there were indeed only a few seconds left until the New Year. Liu Ran quickly sat up properly, her eyes gazing at the night sky with longing.

The countdown ended, and fireworks began.

Bright fireworks bloomed in the night sky. Liu Ran reflexively hid behind the seat back. She was immediately pulled out by Ming Siyu. “They’re so far from you.”

Liu Ran looked at the fireworks, then turned to look at Ming Siyu’s profile. Complex and surging emotions filled her chest, overflowing like moonlight and tides.

Her entire back was tingling with tension.

She carefully issued an invitation: “President Ming, let’s spend New Year’s Eve together again next year, okay?”

The answer was a passionate kiss.

Liu Ran didn’t expect to encounter Zhu Xinghan so frequently at school.

To be precise, Zhu Xinghan seemed to be waiting for her.

Somehow Zhu Xinghan found out she was a freshman in the Business School, and for several days in a row, she appeared frequently at the entrance of her exam room. Zhu Xinghan was the kind of Omega with a very sweet appearance; she hadn’t changed much compared to high school. She wore shiny lip gloss and smiled like a honey peach.

Liu Ran didn’t know how to face Zhu Xinghan. To her, Zhu Xinghan was not just a high school classmate she once got along with; she was also her entire messy, buried past. she could never turn back into Shen Liuran; the identity of Liu Ran was easier for her to accept now.

But Zhu Xinghan was her classmate for three years after all, and she was particularly sincere, with innocent deer-like eyes, chasing after her and saying she only wanted to be her friend and would absolutely not affect her debut. Liu Ran couldn’t say harsh words like “I hate you” or “Get lost.”

Later, even Jian Huaici knew about this and teased that President Ming shouldn’t allow her secretary to be distracted during work.

Fortunately, the finals month ended quickly, and the school started the winter break. Liu Ran threw her whole heart into the company’s work.

Ming Siyu’s attitude toward Ming Siwei had improved, allowing her to participate in some of the conglomerate’s decisions. Ming Siwei appeared at the conglomerate more and more frequently, even though during occasional encounters, Ming Siyu still didn’t give her a good look.

This day, Ming Siyu called Liu Ran to the conglomerate. Ming Siyu’s “fluff-hunger” had flared up; she grabbed her and gave her a messy stroking, kissing her for a while before letting her go.

Liu Ran tidied her appearance and waited for the elevator. The doors opened, and Secretary Wen rushed out holding a pile of documents. Seeing Liu Ran, she looked like she had seen a savior and placed the top stack of files into Liu Ran’s hands.

“The audit needs these. When you go downstairs in a bit, help me deliver them to Conference Room 1 on the 17th floor.”

Since she was going downstairs anyway, delivering the materials wasn’t a problem. Liu Ran stopped at the floor Secretary Wen mentioned, handed the folder to the audit project team, and encountered Ming Siwei in the corridor.

Out of politeness, she gave Ming Siwei a smile. Ming Siwei was on the phone, her expression showing obvious anxiety. She spoke briefly into the phone, then hurried to catch up with Liu Ran, saying she was in a rush to go to the Legal Department and asked Liu Ran to help photocopy several documents and deliver them to Ming Siyu.

“They’re quite important, um, confidential documents,” Ming Siwei said vaguely. “Given your relationship with Sister Ayu, I trust you. Photocopy them personally; don’t give them to anyone else. After copying, leave the originals in my office; my office is on the 32nd floor.”

Ming Siwei stuffed a stack of paper materials into Liu Ran’s embrace and hurried away, looking truly busy beyond measure.

It’s the beginning of the year, after all; being busy is normal.

Liu Ran gave the things Ming Siwei gave her a rough scan; the pages were yellowed and looked like they were from some years ago. She borrowed a printer in the printing room to copy them, organizing them into two sets. Looking at the title, it seemed to be a contract related to a movie investment from five or six years ago.

She returned to Ming Siyu’s office. Ming Siyu was listening to Secretary Wen report work item by item, her expression serious. Seeing Liu Ran enter, her features relaxed, and her tone went up a few notches: “Why are you back? Waiting to leave with me?”

Liu Ran handed over the photocopies and said truthfully, “I ran into Miss Siwei. She asked me to photocopy these and bring them over.”

Ming Siyu didn’t like people calling Ming Siwei “Little President Ming,” so she had carefully avoided that title.

Upon hearing Ming Siwei’s name, Ming Siyu’s face immediately darkened. She picked up the document and gave it a rough scan. When she spoke again, her voice carried a spark of anger, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on: “Don’t bother me with this matter.”

She slammed the document onto the desk.

Liu Ran had grown used to Ming Siyu’s sudden, explosive temper. She silently took the photocopies, preparing to find a shredder to destroy them. To avoid paper jams, a label was pasted on the shredder: Do not shred more than three sheets at a time.

Liu Ran counted three sheets and put them in.

The shredder started up. Amidst the humming, Liu Ran’s eyes scanned the content of the document. The movie was titled The Glass Sea Has No Echo. Just by the name, one could tell it was an art house film.

The movies produced by the Ming Group always had a good reputation. And this film’s name sounded familiar, as if she had heard it somewhere—possibly a hit movie from some years ago. If I have time, I’ll find it and watch it, Liu Ran thought.

She just didn’t understand what about this movie contract was worth Ming Siwei being so secretive, or what was worth Ming Siyu’s face changing at a single glance.

By some freak coincidence, Liu Ran picked up the few sheets she hadn’t had time to shred yet and began reading. It was a very ordinary movie investment contract, including the distribution of rights, risk clauses…

Liu Ran truly couldn’t see anything special from the few pages of paper and shredded them all.

On her way downstairs, she stopped by the Legal Department to find Ming Siwei and tactfully relayed Ming Siyu’s message to her.

Ming Siwei’s smile was stiff: “Okay, I understand. Thank you, A-Ran.”

That night, Liu Ran inexplicably dreamed of her deceased mother. Her mother didn’t say a word, just stood silently at the door of the room watching her. Liu Ran was terrified, but in the dream, she couldn’t move at all, as if her entire body were pressed down by a giant boulder. After struggling for a long time, a breath of air finally entered her lungs, and her body could move again.

It turned out to be sleep paralysis. Liu Ran sat up, feeling unsettled, when there was a knock on the door.

“Liu Ran, are you asleep? Open the door.” It was Ming Siyu.

It had just passed twelve o’clock. She hadn’t been asleep for long. It felt like a long time in the dream, but in reality, only a few minutes had passed.

She got out of bed to open the door for Ming Siyu. Seeing her looking soul-less, Ming Siyu asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare.”

Ming Siyu embraced her. The warm, soft body was reassuring. “What did you dream about?” A token question; she didn’t truly want Liu Ran to answer the content of the dream. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

Liu Ran nodded. When she hugged Ming Siyu, she smelled a faint, lingering scent of smoke on her.

Having just dreamed of her mother, Liu Ran was sensitive to the smell of smoke.

“Did you smoke?”

“What a sharp dog nose.” Ming Siyu laughed and patted her bottom. “I forgot, you really do have a dog nose. I’ll change my pajamas.”

the new pajamas were fragrant.

The two embraced and slept in Ming Siyu’s bedroom.

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