Pregnant with the Alpha Best Actress's Child - Chapter 8

Sang Zhijiu usually ignores messages from strangers. However, she’s been so restless lately that she can’t even focus on movies by her favorite directors. Thinking she’d relax with some mindless short videos before bed, she found every platform flooded with news of her secondary differentiation.

Frustrated, she exited her apps. Bored out of her mind, she saw the stranger’s text and, after a thought, decided to chat.

 

[Who are you?]

 

Fan Wu expected that the other party wouldn’t have her number saved. She suddenly felt a playful urge to tease her; bullying Sang Zhijiu had become quite a natural habit over the years.

 

[Stranger: Jiujiu, I’m a “Sweet Wine” who silently cares for you. Because of work, I happened to get your number. You don’t know me.]

 

[Stranger: There’s been so much news about you lately. I was worried about how you’re doing and couldn’t help messaging. I hope you get well soon.]

 

“Jiujiu” is what most of her fans call her, and “Sweet Wine” is the name of her fandom. Seeing this, Sang Zhijiu knew the person hadn’t sent the message to the wrong number; they truly knew who she was.

 

As the saying goes, “one does not strike a smiling face.” Although she was a bit concerned about her information being accessed privately, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at such kind words.

 

[Thank you for the concern.]

 

[The doctor said secondary differentiation isn’t an illness. I’ll be better soon.]

 

Fan Wu rested her chin on her hand, thinking that Sang Zhijiu was far more polite to a complete stranger than to her. Then again, when the little one wasn’t baring her claws, she was actually quite well-behaved and cute.

 

[Stranger: That’s good.]

 

[Stranger: However, I’ve heard some news that might be bad for you. I’m not sure if I should tell you this early.]

 

Sang Zhijiu froze. She scrolled back up and noticed the person mentioned getting her number through “work.” It seemed this stranger was likely someone within the film industry—probably a behind-the-scenes staff member, given their desire to remain anonymous.

 

Of course, she wasn’t so naive as to believe them instantly. She replied tentatively.

 

[There’s a lot of news in the entertainment circle, but most are just rumors. Even if it’s true, things change rapidly. There’s no need to take it too seriously.]

 

Fan Wu raised an eyebrow.

 

[Stranger: Do you want to hear it then?]

 

[Stranger: Perhaps only you can judge its truth.]

 

Sang Zhijiu: [If you’re willing to say it.]

 

[Stranger: Because of the news of your differentiation, Director Guan Jin has already started preparing to terminate your contract.]

 

[Stranger: The info I have is that his team will coordinate with Nanlu Entertainment within the next two days.]

 

Seeing this, Sang Zhijiu practically “resurrected” from her bed in a shock. She began biting her nails instinctively, feeling at a loss. She could indeed judge for herself, and the reality was that this news was highly likely to be true.

 

Guan Jin is a famous director whose every film aims for awards. Before taking this project, Sang Zhijiu had rested for half a year, staying in contact with him while working on herself. The deadline for her agreement with her two mothers was approaching; this film was her last chance to grab a Best Actress trophy!

 

She and Lin Jiahe had been so overwhelmed by the differentiation news and the constant stream of visitors that they had completely forgotten this crucial matter. Now that she realized it, she was genuinely panicked.

 

More importantly, her role was originally a Beta. Now that she was an Omega, she truly had zero chance left to fight for it.

 

She opened her chat with Lin Jiahe, but after typing and deleting for a long time, she closed it in defeat. This was an “act of God”; there was nothing Lin Jiahe could do. Telling her now would just mean one more person losing sleep.

 

She’d rather keep it to herself. But the grievance was so strong she felt like she might burst! She scrolled through her contacts but couldn’t find anyone to vent to—until her eyes landed back on the SMS interface.

 

[This news is probably true…]

 

Seeing the little one reply again, Fan Wu’s lips curled into a smile. She didn’t even realize how eagerly she was responding.

 

[Stranger: Did I bring you trouble by telling you early?]

 

Sang Zhijiu felt gloomy. Wasn’t that obvious? But she couldn’t blame the person.

 

[…No.]

 

[I’m grateful you told me early. At least… at least I can prepare myself mentally.]

 

Mental preparation? Fan Wu was puzzled. Was the little one just going to lie down and accept fate without a fight?

 

[Stranger: You should prepare, but to minimize your losses.]

 

That sounded easy, as if she actually had any leverage. Sang Zhijiu clutched her phone, unable to stop herself from complaining.

 

[I’m an Omega now. How can I possibly ask them to accept me for a Beta role? Even if Director Guan doesn’t mind, I can’t risk causing trouble for the whole crew…]

 

[Should I go and fight for the lead Omega role in the script?]

 

[Stranger: The lead Omega is played by Guan Jin’s long-time partner, Lin Fan. You can’t compete with her.]

 

Even though it was the truth, seeing it written out spiked Sang Zhijiu’s strange competitive streak.

 

[You think I’m useless, don’t you?]

 

[That I can’t handle a new gender role after differentiation?]

 

Fan Wu laughed out loud. She had been exhausted after a long day, but chatting with the little one was making her feel rejuvenated. Having navigated the entertainment industry for years, she wondered how Sang Zhijiu managed to keep that blend of kindness, arrogance, and drive.

 

Is this why Fan Yu liked her so much? Fan Wu felt she was inadvertently discovering another charming side of the girl besides her looks.

 

Then she paused. Why was she trying to find charming things about Sang Zhijiu? There was no possibility left between the girl and her precious little sister. She shook her head to dismiss the thought and continued her “relaxation” by teasing the girl.

 

[Stranger: I didn’t mean that.]

 

Being a Best Actress herself, Fan Wu recalled some fanatical fan comments she’d seen and mimicked their bold tone.

 

[Stranger: Jiujiu, you are the best! In my heart, you can master any role perfectly!]

 

[Stranger: Director Guan’s decision is his biggest mistake. I’m sure he’ll regret it!]

 

Sang Zhijiu was soothed. After the surge of narcissism, a bit of long-forgotten humility finally surfaced.

 

[Not really, I still have a lot to learn.]

 

Imagining the little one’s tail wagging from the praise, Fan Wu’s mischievous side was satisfied. She decided to offer a reward.

 

[Stranger: Guan Jin is stuck in a dead end; you won’t get much more out of him.]

 

[Stranger: But that doesn’t mean you have to just accept the loss.]

 

Sang Zhijiu didn’t expect this “little fan” to start teaching her. Confused, she replied: [Hm?]

 

Drawing from her years of experience, Fan Wu gave her advice.

 

[Stranger: This is an act of God that no one expected. Guan Jin won’t want to fall out with Nanlu, especially if word gets out that you were treated unfairly—the bad PR wouldn’t help anyone.]

 

[Stranger: This is your opportunity.]

 

Sang Zhijiu turned serious: [What should I do?]

 

[Stranger: Use the chips in your hand for a resource exchange with Guan Jin and Nanlu.]

 

[Stranger: You can’t get a good role from Guan Jin anymore, but out of personal favor and compensation, he won’t refuse to prioritize a replacement actor you recommend. In exchange for this—or rather, as leverage—you might be able to squeeze a good Omega role out of Nanlu.]

 

Fan Wu remembered that this Beta role was something Sang Zhijiu had fought for herself, declining other jobs; Nanlu hadn’t helped much. That “chip” carried significant weight. If Jiang Mengzhi handled it alone, she might have a 40-50% success rate, but with Sang Zhijiu’s active help, those odds would skyrocket.

 

However, Sang Zhijiu’s logic was often a bit strange.

 

She asked: […Isn’t it my duty to give the role back to the company? Nanlu has helped me a lot in some ways.]

 

[Using this as an exchange… wouldn’t that create bad blood with the company?]

 

Fan Wu couldn’t quite see through the girl. Why was someone with such a haughty temper so simple-minded in their thoughts?

 

[Stranger: In business, there’s no such thing as “bad blood.”]

 

[Stranger: As long as the benefits are sufficient, everyone’s choices are voluntary.]

 

After sending the text, Fan Wu dazed for a moment. By this point, she had learned Sang Zhijiu’s true intent: Sang Zhijiu was willing to help for free to keep the role at Nanlu.

 

In that case, shouldn’t she just go with the flow and let Nanlu take the advantage? After all—though the public didn’t know—the person with the most power behind Nanlu was herself.

 

On the other side, Sang Zhijiu was enlightened.

 

[I get it! I’ll give it a try!]

 

Having stated her stance, she felt a surge of genuine liking and gratitude toward this stranger.

 

[Wahhh, thank you so much!]

 

[Even though I don’t know who you are… cough, don’t worry, I understand! I won’t try to find out your identity and make things hard for you!]

 

[Thank you, thank you, you’re such a good person! Whether it works out or not, I’ll remember the round hand (yuan shou) you extended!]

 

Round hand? That typo (intended to be yuan zhu – helping hand) instantly broke the serious atmosphere of gratitude. Fan Wu stared at her own slender fingers and burst out laughing.

 

[Stranger: No need to be so polite.]

 

[Stranger: But how should I put this… I’m not Doraemon; I don’t have “round hands.”]

 

Sang Zhijiu realized her mistake, her whole face turning red.

 

[Sorry! I made a typo!]

 

[I’m truly grateful… so, is there anything I can do for you? As long as it’s within my power, I’m willing to try.]

 

Although teaching Sang Zhijiu this was technically “pitfalling” herself, Fan Wu didn’t care about such a minor loss. Similarly, Sang Zhijiu’s gratitude meant nothing practical to her.

 

She was about to decline politely when a thought struck her. She opened a familiar shopping app—there were several new books she had just ordered…

 

Fan Wu narrowed her eyes.

 

[Stranger: Since I like you so much, if possible… could you give me an address? I’ll send a few books over. Could you sign them and write a few words of encouragement?]

 

Seeing the word “books,” Sang Zhijiu shivered. She silently cursed Fan Wu in her heart—that “dog thing” had almost given her PTSD. Fortunately, she quickly adjusted her mood for her high-quality fan.

 

[Of course, no problem!]

 

[I’m honored to be liked by you. If you can send them within a week, send them to the front desk of the Qingjue Hotel in Y-City. For the name, put “He,” and the number is XXXXX.]

 

She had no idea that the “high-quality fan” who had just reached the top of her list and that “dog thing” in her heart were the exact same person.

 

The “high-quality fan” gave a smug smile that only a “dog thing” would have. She swiftly changed the recipient info on her shopping app to the address Sang Zhijiu gave. Only then did she reply happily.

 

[Stranger: Okay.]

 

[Stranger: Thank you, Jiujiu! You’re the best! I love you so much!]

 

Although the tone of the last two messages felt a bit disjointed and the confession seemed slightly forced, Sang Zhijiu didn’t notice the detail.

 

[It’s what I should do.]

 

[It’s late, goodnight.]

 

She let out a long breath, sent the final reply, and happily drifted off to sleep. It had been a very productive night.