My Childhood Friend, Who Is An Omega, Has Become My Personal Secretary - Chapter 42

The notebook was thick, with a hard gray cover.

No one expected that while the trending topic “Jixia Group’s Prince and the Showgirl Switch” still hung stubbornly at the top of the charts, Ji Zeyuan would actually be able to report to work as usual without changing her expression.

This level of audacity was astounding, but it simultaneously sent a signal to everyone: Ji Zeyuan’s status remained rock-solid. Zhang Linen was truly a piece of “worthless mud” that couldn’t be helped up the wall—a sacrificial “fake heiress.” Otherwise, why would Ji Cheng, despite having a biological daughter, choose to adopt and raise a foster daughter as his successor?

Zhang Linen’s resignation only solidified this mainstream theory. There were even widespread rumors claiming that her words at the press conference had been coerced.

In short, opinions varied, but the outcome remained the same: the sky hadn’t fallen. Aside from firing a secretary, life at Jixia continued as usual.

Just as Ji Zeyuan sat down in her office, a message from Zhang Linen appeared on her phone: “I have some things to take care of; I’m leaving first.”

The events of today were so bizarre and surreal that Ji Zeyuan was still in a daze. Recalling the words Ji Cheng had said in the early hours of the morning—when he had laid out the entire truth without giving her any preparation—it felt like a dream.

Someone knocked on the office door. Ji Zeyuan quickly composed her expression and said steadily, “Come in.”

The person opened the door just a crack and poked their head in. Ji Zeyuan looked up to see Hua Jianjiu acting in a sneaky, hesitant manner. She asked, “What is it?”

Hua Jianjiu entered cautiously. After closing the door, she scouted Ji Zeyuan’s reaction with her eyes. Seeing that Ji Zeyuan appeared relatively calm, she finally spoke: “I came to see if you were okay. Such a huge thing… I don’t know how to comfort you, just…”

Watching the tongue-tied Hua Jianjiu, Ji Zeyuan showed mercy and interrupted her fragmented attempts at consolation, saying, “Am I not perfectly fine? Don’t overthink it.”

Hua Jianjiu pursed her lips and nodded. She hesitated, her eyes darting around, before asking again, “Then… what about Zhang Linen? Where will she go after resigning? Will she be sent to manage a subsidiary or something?”

Hearing this, Ji Zeyuan’s expression changed instantly. Her brow furrowed tightly: “Resigning?”

The violent storm gradually subsided, leaving behind a persistent, drizzling rain. Zhang Linen shook the rainwater off the hem of her clothes and raised her hand to knock on the door of the psychological counseling room in front of her.

The glass door opened from the inside a moment later. The woman who opened it was a Beta with crane-white hair, wearing a white lab coat. Her face was etched with deep wrinkles, and her clouded eyes blinked in surprise.

“Xiao Zhang, you haven’t been here in a long time. Oh… what happened to your face?”

Without a word, Zhang Linen pushed past her and walked straight into the consulting room to sit on the sofa. “Dr. Liang, I kissed her today.”

Dr. Liang sat down opposite Zhang Linen and looked at her with a smile. “Are you happy?”

Zhang Linen’s eyes were vacant as she traced her lips with the pad of her right index finger, murmuring, “It wasn’t just happiness, there was also…”

Dr. Liang maintained her smile. Zhang Linen lifted her watery eyes, her lips trembled, and two trails of clear tears rolled down her thin cheeks.

The flowers had quietly withered, and the rain outside the window “pitter-pattered” incessantly.

“I’m afraid she might want to leave and never come back.”

Dr. Liang pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and handed it to Zhang Linen. Zhang Linen took the tissue and wiped away her tears.

“Why do you think that?” Dr. Liang asked softly, as if afraid of startling her.

The corners of Zhang Linen’s eyes were red. The light and shadow falling on her face formed a distinct dividing line.

“Dr. Liang, do you watch the news trends?” Zhang Linen asked. Dr. Liang gave a calm smile: “Are you asking if I know you are the daughter of the Chairman of Jixia?”

Zhang Linen nodded slightly and continued, “The person I’ve always talked to you about… she is the switched child/fake one.”

A microscopic flash of surprise crossed Dr. Liang’s eyes. She clasped her hands over her lap and said, “After all this time, I finally know who the protagonist of your stories is.”

Zhang Linen lowered her eyes, her voice raspy: “Everything happened so fast, it doesn’t feel real. I don’t know why she would suddenly do this.”

A kind light appeared in Dr. Liang’s eyes. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zhang Linen’s eyes flickered. After a moment of silence, she said, “There are things more important than this. Once everything has stabilized, I will ask her.”

After the rain had washed the world, the temperature dropped sharply. Ji Zeyuan returned home, but the vacant rooms were missing the presence that usually occupied them.

Ji Zeyuan checked the time; it was 8:07 PM. At 7:00 PM, she had received a message from Zhang Linen: Tonight I’m going back to my own home.

She called Zhang Linen, but the call disconnected automatically with no answer. Ji Zeyuan felt a chill at the tip of her heart, and a nameless fear surged within her.

Next, she called Zhang Qian. The ringtone sounded only once before it was picked up. On the other end, Zhang Qian’s voice was brimming with joy: “Xiao Yuan, you actually took the initiative to call me.”

Zhang Qian was very excited and moved. Ji Zeyuan paused, then still asked: “Zhang…” After thinking about it, she couldn’t bring herself to say that title and simply said, “Do you know where Xiao En’s residence is?”

Upon hearing this, Zhang Qian fell silent. It was a long moment before she reported an address in a dejected, low voice, and then asked, “Xiao Yuan, do you have nothing else to say?”

Ji Zeyuan clenched her fist. After a moment of solemn silence, she said, “In the future, if you ever hit Xiao En again, I definitely won’t let it go as lightly as I did this time.”

With those words, she hung up before Zhang Qian could react.

Then, Ji Zeyuan put her shoes back on, grabbed her car keys, went downstairs, and drove toward the address Zhang Qian had provided.

This address was very close to the Ji family home; it was almost within walking distance.

Ji Zeyuan parked her car on the side of the road. This residential complex was quite old. The security guard at the gate didn’t check strictly, letting Ji Zeyuan in without even looking up.

Following the layout of the buildings, she systematically found the unit where Zhang Linen lived. Fortunately, there was no access code at the bottom of the building, so she reached the door easily.

The motion-sensor light in the stairwell flickered on and off. Ji Zeyuan knocked on the door, but no one answered. Looking through the gap in the door, there seemed to be no lights on inside; no one was home.

The door had a keypad lock. Ji Zeyuan tried Zhang Linen’s birthday, but the lock failed to open.

Next, she tried her own birthday, but it failed again.

After that, Ji Zeyuan entered a series of dates she thought might be important to Zhang Linen.

Ji Zeyuan let her hand drop and took a moment to think deeply. She carefully entered both her and Zhang Linen’s birthdays together, then quickly pressed the pound key.

The door lock emitted a cheerful “di-li-li” sound of success. Holding her breath, Ji Zeyuan opened the door.

It was dark, and the interior was very dim. Ji Zeyuan fumbled to turn on the entryway light, then closed the door behind her.

Her eyes met an open-plan kitchen and a cramped living room connected to a balcony. Ji Zeyuan opened the shoe cabinet; there was only one pair of slippers inside. She took them out and changed out of her outdoor shoes.

The living room was very simple, containing only a glass coffee table and a two-seater sofa. There wasn’t even a television.

Ji Zeyuan walked further inside. To the right of the sofa was a door. She turned the handle and pushed it open. After turning on the light in the darkness, the scene before her left her stunned.

It was a bedroom—small and cramped, filled with miscellaneous items, but everything was arranged very neatly.

Ji Zeyuan’s gaze swept over the items one by one. The objects on the desk were all things she had once given to Zhang Linen: a scarf from Christmas, birthday cards, a watch, and Legos given during New Year back in kindergarten.

The walls were covered densely with photos of Ji Zeyuan. Some were solo shots, some were photos of the two of them together, but in the joint photos, Zhang Linen’s face had been scratched out and ruined.

It was a shocking sight—a testament to her longing.

Ji Zeyuan touched the photos as she walked to the bed and slowly sat down. As she sat, she felt something pressed beneath her. She immediately stood up and lifted the bedsheet to reveal an old notebook.

The notebook was thick, with a hard gray cover. Ji Zeyuan flipped to the first page, which held a tucked-in photo of herself from high school. In the photo, she was wearing her summer school uniform, sitting under a tree to cool off, holding a bottle of water with a look of misery on her face.

Flipping further down, she found the main text of the diary.

The psychologist says that writing down what has happened one by one can help clarify thoughts more objectively and find the root of the problem.

If everything is to be told from the beginning, it probably goes back thirteen years.

The first time I met her was in kindergarten.

At that time, I thought she was overbearing and incredibly stupid. If it weren’t for the fact that I didn’t want to make things difficult for my mother, I wouldn’t have wanted to deal with her at all.

How strange, why did I think that back then?

Anyway, there was a brief, awkward period between us, but we quickly resolved our prejudices and misunderstandings.

After we officially became best friends, she loved to cling to me. Her speech became direct and casual. She would only reveal her true self in front of me. To outsiders, she was the noble and arrogant young miss, but in my eyes, she was just Xiao Yuan.

When we moved from kindergarten to elementary school, because she liked me so much, the Chairman arranged for us to be in the same class at the same school.

I don’t remember what grade it was, but a boy was spreading rumors about me at school, calling me “the rich girl’s lackey.” She was unhappy and had a big fight with that boy. After that, I never heard any negative comments about myself in school again.

Around the sixth grade, people in the class began to present (as Alpha, Beta, or Omega) one after another. I asked her if she hoped to be an Alpha, Beta, or Omega. She didn’t answer; she just looked at me and smiled.

At that time, a hazy feeling arose within me. I didn’t understand what it was. It felt as if there were a vast ocean inside me, and within that ocean lurked a sea beast capable of turning the world upside down. There was only me and that sea beast in the world; I wanted to get close to it, yet I was afraid of it. I was afraid, yet I couldn’t control my desire to be near it.

Later, that sea beast became a frequent visitor in my dreams. I could often find its silhouette in my dreamscapes, but I never confronted it head-on.

In middle school, someone in class was publicly criticized for being in a relationship. She asked me if I had a crush on anyone. I said no. I asked her too, and she also said no.

That night, I had a dream. I dreamt I was sinking into the ocean, and that sea beast, which had always kept its distance, swam toward me and rescued me, bringing me to shore. I was freed from suffocation; my vision cleared from a blur. The sea beast turned into her.

I had my first erotic dream. It was only then that I understood: I loved her.

I don’t remember the specific thoughts I had then, but I was probably wondering: Does she like me? She treats me so specially; I should have a chance, right?

Looking at it now, I was truly a fool who loved to indulge in wishful thinking.