My Wife Is a Delicate Omega and I’ve Forgotten Her After Amnesia - Chapter 3

On the evening of the 7th, Shu Yu was dragged out by Bai Ruoliu to walk through the pedestrian street in the West District, hoping to trigger some memories.

It was mid-summer, and the evening breeze was humid and stifling. The pedestrian street was packed with crowds, the air thick with a chaotic mix of smells. Shu Yu disliked both the uncomfortable temperature and the overwhelming, messy outdoor environment. She wore a displeased expression, but knowing Bai Ruoliu had her best interests at heart, she kept her complaints to herself.

Bai Ruoliu was drinking a cup of milk tea as they walked, chatting away, “How have you been resting these past two days? Have you been sleeping well at night? Any strange or bizarre dreams? It seems like people with amnesia often have restless sleep and vivid dreams.”

Shu Yu was silent for a moment before saying softly, “A red dress.”

“What?”

Shu Yu stopped in front of a giant sculpture. Her body was cast in its shadow as she frowned, carefully recalling the scene from her dream. A flash of a red dress kept appearing and disappearing in her peripheral vision, vanishing like the wind.

She turned to reach for it, again and again, but her hands grasped only empty air, leaving her with just a lingering trace of scent on her skin.

What kind of scent was it? She couldn’t name it, but she knew it was incredibly fragrant.

When she woke up, she would stare at the empty room, devoid of that unforgettable shade of red, devoid of that haunting, beautiful fragrance. A sense of sorrow and loss would wash over her.

Shu Yu stepped out of the sculpture’s shadow and asked, “Does anyone like to wear red dresses?”

Bai Ruoliu immediately thought of Jiang Zhijiu.

Other than that glamorous older sister of Jiang Zhijiu, who owned every imaginable style of red dress, who else would wear one in front of Shu Yu?

No one.

There was only that charming, beautiful vixen of a sister, Jiang Zhijiu.

Bai Ruoliu deflected with a joke, “Did you go shopping in your dreams or something? You usually only like to wear light-colored clothes, and you prefer them loose. What’s wrong? Did you hit your head and decide to change your style? Fine, I’ll go with you to buy a red dress. Although it might look a bit strange on you, you’re beautiful, so I’m sure the effect would be cool and stunning.”

Shu Yu glared at Bai Ruoliu, annoyed.

Feeling the chaotic pheromones radiating from Shu Yu’s irritation, Bai Ruoliu quickly said, “Control yourself, there are too many people here. If you keep this up, I’ll have to start carrying suppressants with me.”

Shu Yu took a deep breath, lowering her gaze as she struggled to pull her emotions back in.

Every time she thought of the elements from her dream, whether it was the red dress or the scent, her heart became a tangled mess.

“Oh, right,” Bai Ruoliu asked tentatively, “Did you develop a crush on the owner of ‘He Lai’ bar? I think she’s the only one who’s been wearing red dresses lately.”

Shu Yu’s gaze turned icy, and she denied it firmly, “No.”

She marched ahead.

They passed many people recording livestreams or filming on the side of the road. There had been video bloggers doing this three years ago, but there were far fewer of them. It felt like she had taken a time machine and suddenly jumped three years into the future. Shu Yu felt a bit uncomfortable, even experiencing a sense of secondhand embarrassment for them, so she avoided looking and tried to walk around them.

“Ah, I forgot to mention something major,” Bai Ruoliu said, “Shu Yu, you’re a video blogger too. You have a lot of followers and you occasionally livestream.”

Shu Yu stopped in her tracks, “Who did you say?”

“You, it’s you. But before the incident, you uninstalled the app, so you probably didn’t see it in your phone history. When we go back tonight, reinstall it and log into your homepage to see if you can remember anything. I won’t tell you what kind of videos you make, see for yourself.”

Shu Yu rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. She turned her gaze to the side and saw a male video blogger dressed in women’s clothing, standing on his hands while holding down his skirt. She frowned in disgust, unable to imagine if she had ever done something so bizarre herself. Her irritation flared up again.

As they walked to the next intersection, Shu Yu suddenly stopped. All her annoyance vanished in an instant.

On the large screen in front of them, several large, bold characters flashed. The most striking six were “Bartender Performance Competition.”

On a stage two meters high, there were several tables, and the contestants were waving enthusiastically to the audience below.

It was an outdoor creative cocktail performance competition. The red and green lights created a bar-like atmosphere, and behind the screen, a full, bright moon hung in the black-blue sky, casting moonlight down like water.

Under that watery moonlight, Shu Yu saw a flash of a glamorous red dress on stage.

The woman had flowing curly hair, wore a red dress, and had bright red lips. Among all the contestants, she was the one who drew the most attention, the one people couldn’t look away from. She was like the most beautiful, most vibrant red rose in the garden, gorgeous and dazzling.

Thirty meters away, the woman suddenly turned her eyes toward her. At the moment their gazes met, the woman smiled, as if a blooming rose had unfolded its petals even more vividly.

The woman waved at her, “Hi.”

Her crimson lips formed two more words, “Little sister.”

Shu Yu’s ankles twitched. An inexplicable urge to walk quickly toward the woman surged within her, an urge even to hold her.

Shu Yu was suddenly bumped by Bai Ruoliu, who said, “Wow, the pretty lady seems to be calling you ‘baby’~”

Baby, Little sister—they had the same lip shape.

Did Jiang Zhijiu call every girl she met once “little sister” or “baby”?

Shu Yu remained silent.

On stage, the host began introducing which bar each bartender came from. When they reached Jiang Zhijiu, they listed over a dozen bar names and titles. Shu Yu asked Bai Ruoliu thoughtfully, “‘He Lai’ is just one of her shops? There are over ten—can she even manage that?”

Bai Ruoliu said, “She probably has friends helping out. She doesn’t seem to be at the bars all the time, she must have other businesses. I heard she’s the heiress of the Jiang Group, so no one dares to mess with her. Otherwise, it would be dangerous for someone as beautiful as her to run a bar.”

Probably, seems, should, heard—everything was ambiguous.

Shu Yu didn’t ask further.

Soon, the host introduced the theme of the performance: creative cocktails based on the concept of “Searching.” The timer started, and all the bartenders began mixing. Shu Yu’s eyes were uncontrollably fixed on the woman in the red dress.

While other bartenders shook their shakers with brute force, Jiang Zhijiu’s movements were incredibly graceful and languid. It was as if she were shaking dice in a bar game—elegant and composed. At the same time, Shu Yu noticed that Jiang Zhijiu was actually applying strength to her hands; she just made it look effortless.

Jiang Zhijiu smiled confidently, as if she didn’t care about the competition at all. She was just casually immersed in her own languid world, doing as she pleased. She mixed in pink rose syrup, vintage brandy, heavy cream, and honey water. After shaking the drink, she poured it into a vintage glass, garnished it with a rose petal and a chili slice, and finally used a smoke gun to create a smoky effect. As it ended, Jiang Zhijiu curtsied, her hands swirling in front of her to perform an elegant, beautiful final bow.

Shu Yu was so captivated she forgot to breathe, almost forgetting the world around her. After Jiang Zhijiu straightened up, she smiled brightly, as if all the brilliant stars in the night sky had fallen into her eyes.

The host interviewed each bartender about their creative concept. When the microphone reached Jiang Zhijiu, her beautiful voice rang out like a nightingale, “This drink is called ‘Memories.’ Every person’s life is filled with countless memories, in our past relationships, in our past loves. I hope our feelings and our love will always bloom like roses, and always be as sweet as honey. True love is in the past, and it is in the future.”

Applause erupted, but Shu Yu forgot to clap.

Deep inside her, some emotion had been touched. Her heart pounded violently, beating so hard she felt like it might burst out of her body.

The large screen began playing footage captured by the various cameras. The audience voted in real-time, and soon the screen flashed to a bar graph of the results. Jiang Zhijiu’s votes were far in the lead, rising the fastest. She won decisively, almost without suspense.

A bell rang on stage, and the host announced that the winner of the night’s performance competition was—Jiu Jiu.

Shu Yu lowered her eyes and gave a small smile.

She couldn’t tell if it was because Jiang Zhijiu’s victory was expected, or if it was because seeing the name “Jiu Jiu” on the screen made her realize it was Jiang Zhijiu’s nickname.

“Ahhh, little sister Shu Yu—”

Suddenly, a joyful voice came from beside her.

Shu Yu looked up to see that splash of red running toward her in the evening breeze, her silky curls hitting her rounded shoulders. She ran all the way to her and hugged her.

Shu Yu was pushed back two steps by the momentum, and at the same time, she subconsciously opened her arms and wrapped them around the woman’s waist.

The waist was incredibly slim. A scent of roses and liquor washed over her. She didn’t know why, but even though she knew in her heart that she should push the woman away, she unconsciously held her tighter, as if she wanted to press the woman into her own body.

Suddenly, she heard a soft whimper from the person in her arms. Shu Yu snapped out of her trance and hurriedly pushed her away.

Jiang Zhijiu was slightly stunned by the push, but she immediately realized that Shu Yu’s reflexive hug was because she had mistaken her for that other friend she resembled.

She pushed her away because Shu Yu had realized that she wasn’t her.

Jiang Zhijiu felt a sharp, painful stab in her heart. When she looked up, her expression was indifferent. She raised an eyebrow and asked with a smile, “Did you come specifically to watch my competition, little sister?”

Shu Yu said coldly, “No, I just happened to pass by.”

“Oh”

Jiang Zhijiu drew out the word, showing obvious disappointment, “I thought you came just to see me.”

Shu Yu’s expression faltered. She turned around and said, “I’m going over there to buy some water.”

Bai Ruoliu quickly gave Jiang Zhijiu a look, trying to comfort her, and then hurried after Shu Yu, “Where are you going to buy water? The stores are so far away.”

Suddenly, as if Shu Yu had heard something or sensed something acutely, she stopped and turned to look at Jiang Zhijiu.

She saw a greasy, overweight man walking toward Jiang Zhijiu from behind. The man raised his hand toward his companion, his expression smug, as if he were about to touch Jiang Zhijiu.

In almost an instant, Shu Yu ran over. Just as the man’s right hand was about to touch Jiang Zhijiu’s lower back, Shu Yu pulled the oblivious Jiang Zhijiu behind her, staring coldly at the man.

Then, she saw the man’s expression begin to twist horribly. He clutched his head, losing his strength, and bent over. He couldn’t even speak, and finally, with a loud thud, he collapsed to his knees in front of Shu Yu.

“Shu Yu,” Bai Ruoliu came over quickly to stop her, “We’re in public, that’s enough.”

Shu Yu continued to release her top-tier, powerful pheromones. The man was suppressed so heavily his forehead was almost touching the ground. Still, Shu Yu didn’t stop, staring at him calmly and deeply, as if she intended to make him suffer until he broke.

Jiang Zhijiu stood behind Shu Yu, watching the familiar lover who would always protect her first. Tears suddenly streamed down her face without warning.

At the same time, the man on the ground slammed his forehead against the floor, a heavy, resounding thwack echoing through the air.

“I was wrong,” the man apologized in a weak, breathless voice. He couldn’t even tell who he was apologizing to; he just kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I was wrong.”

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