Pregnant with the Empress’s Alpha Heir - Chapter 13

“Of course it’s me.” Ah Jiu removed the hand from her face. “Who else were you expecting to see?”

Yu Zhitao stared blankly for a moment before looking around in confusion.

“I woke up?”

Beside her, Ah Jiu extracted her long hair from under Yu Zhitao ‘s arm while giving her a puzzled look as she combed through it.

Realizing her embarrassing state, Yu Zhitao stuck out her tongue and burrowed back under the covers.

Hiding her head beneath the blanket, she felt frantic: “Why do I always wake up at the crucial moment? Did I finally see the demon girl’s face or not?”

As her emotional regret gradually faded, rationality slowly returned.

“Was that dream just a coincidence? When was the last time I had it?”

As Yu Zhitao tried to recall, her face suddenly began to flush.

“The first time I had this dream was right after Ah Jiu and I, you know. So, does sleeping with Ah Jiu trigger that dream?

“Is this some kind of hidden perk? Because adult Ah Jiu is too intimidating, so I get to see a cute, miniature version of her in my dreams?”

At this thought, she couldn’t help but let out a foolish, lovesick giggle.

The next moment, Ah Jiu pulled back the covers, capturing this scene in full view.

Yu Zhitao knew she should feel ashamed, but right now, the image of little Wu from her dream still lingered in her mind.

Temporarily treating this as a bonus, she boldly sat up and hugged Ah Jiu tightly.

Nuzzling against the smooth skin of adult Ah Jiu, she shamelessly demanded: “Ah Jiu, give me a kiss!”

Ah Jiu calmly peeled her off.

“I was going to ask for breakfast nutrients, do you want original flavor or cherry?”

Still groggy from sleep, Yu Zhitao played coy: “Kiss me first, then I’ll tell you.”

Ah Jiu stared straight at her as if assessing whether something was seriously wrong.

Finding nothing conclusive, she turned to leave.

Yu Zhitao quickly grabbed her from behind: “Wait wait, no kiss then, fine.”

Thinking she’d calmed down, Ah Jiu turned back to repeat her question, only for Yu Zhitao to pucker up and plant a sloppy kiss right on her face.

She even justified it: “If you won’t kiss me, then I’ll kiss you instead!”

With little Wu in the dream being so young, she hadn’t dared to behave improperly. But grown-up Ah Jiu was different, they’d done far more intimate things multiple times already.

Ah Jiu stiffened momentarily before breaking free from Yu Zhitao ‘s grasp.

This time she was wiser, walking all the way to the door before turning back to calmly say, “I’ll get you cherry flavor,” then leaving without another glance.

After she left, Yu Zhitao buried her flushed face back under the covers, slowly processing her bold actions.

The lingering scents on the sheets, sweet cherry cream and woody fragrance—reminded her incessantly of their passionate night together.

Whether it was her imagination or not, Yu Zhitao felt Ah Jiu’s pheromones weren’t as pungent as when they first met.

Though the woody scent still carried that earthy decay, it was like after a rainstorm—beyond the rot, there were faint hints of fresh greenery.

Several minutes later, she finally calmed down.

“Why should I be embarrassed? Ah Jiu was way more outrageous than me last night.

“Ahem. The real question is about that dream.”

Tilting her head in thought, she decided to be more methodical: “I’ll need to wait until next time to confirm!”

“Three strikes and you’re out. If I get marked by Ah Jiu again and have this dream. I’ll tell Ah Jiu everything.”

Having resolved the dream issue, she felt relieved and finally got out of bed to freshen up.

When she left the bedroom, Ah Jiu had already prepared breakfast.

The greedy little cat Xiao Jiu happily lapped up the special pet milk from its bowl, its bottom sticking up in the air. Infected by its enthusiasm, Yu Zhiyi’s appetite improved too, and she finished the nutritional drink she usually disliked.

Putting down her bowl, she burped: “I wish we could eat natural food every day.”

Then she looked at Ah Jiu, who was already clearing the dishes: “Ah Jiu, don’t you ever get tired of this?”

In this world, nutritional drinks were very cheap while natural food was expensive. With tuition fees coming up, Yu Zhiyi didn’t dare spend recklessly.

But for a foodie from Earth like her, nutritional drinks were pure torture. It was like trying to lose weight in modern society by drinking nothing but diet shakes—not exactly unpalatable, but impossible to stick to without tremendous willpower.

Hearing this, Ah Jiu casually took away her bowl too.

Her tone was flat: “I’m used to it.”

Yu Zhiyi immediately fell silent.

In her mind, Ah Jiu was a homeless wanderer. Only the truly poor could develop a “habit” for nutritional drinks.

With lingering fear, Yu Zhiyi patted her chest and added: “Well, it’s actually not bad—lots of flavors.”

Ah Jiu gave her a puzzled look before deliberately averting her gaze—

Not understanding this young girl Yu Zhiyi was nothing new for her.

After breakfast, Yu Zhiyi began practicing the guqin.

Previously, she’d learned the instrument as a hobby, but now it had become her livelihood, so she practiced with utmost dedication. She wanted to do right by the audience who appreciated her at the bar.

But she didn’t know that online, discussions about her were heating up.

Earlier, Shu Da had posted a video of her guqin performance at the bar to the Star Network with her permission.

The novelty of guqin playing quickly drew widespread attention, and after two or three days of circulation, it had exploded in popularity.

Ordinary viewers marveled at the performance and praised the beautiful music, asking Shu Da where they could hear it live.

But some doubted the video’s authenticity.

[Archaeology student here—this video is definitely suspicious! While the guqin has been reconstructed, its musical notation hasn’t been deciphered. If she claimed these were random improvisations, fine, but passing them off as ancient compositions? That’s straight-up fraud.]

[Seconded. It’s not just the notation—there’s no academic consensus on whether ancient instruments can even be played. The uploader shouldn’t pass off this dimly lit video as genuine guqin performance.]

[Leave ancient instruments in museums where they belong. Stop trying to ride their coattails.]

[The audio is clearly synthesized. Check my profile for the original version.]

The sudden controversy pushed the video’s popularity to new heights, even landing “guqin performance” as a trending search term.

More and more people saw the video, and influenced by the skeptical comments, many joined the criticism.

The occasional words of praise were drowned out by waves of skepticism.

Shu Da was nearly frantic with worry.

Having personally witnessed Yu Zhi Tao’s performance, she knew the video was genuine. At first, when dissenting voices appeared in the comments, she paid them no mind, assuming those people simply lacked discernment.

But now the situation had escalated. Despite posting countless explanations, things had spiraled beyond her control.

Without Yu Zhi Tao’s contact information, she could only hope for night to fall quickly so she could find her at the bar.

As evening approached, before heading out, Shu Da posted one final message online:

[“The guqin performance is at the Fan & Dream Bar in the Upper District of Capital Star—this isn’t some secret, it’s advertised on the bar’s homepage. Tonight I’ll record another video or, with the performer’s permission, stream it live. If you still don’t believe me, you’re welcome to come see for yourselves.”]

Coincidentally, this message was seen by Yu Zhi Huai, who happened to be browsing online.

After watching the video, he immediately sought confirmation from Yu Zhi Qiao.

“Second Sister, look—isn’t this Eldest Sister?”

Yu Zhi Qiao was startled after viewing the video.

Frowning, she said, “Since when did Eldest Sister know how to play ancient instruments?”

Like Yu Zhi Tao, Yu Zhi Qiao was an Omega. Having grown up together, their aristocratic education had been nearly identical.

Yu Zhi Qiao knew exactly what Yu Zhi Tao was capable of—and ancient instruments were definitely not part of their curriculum.

Hearing this, Yu Zhi Huai curled his lips in a mocking smile: “So even Second Sister doesn’t know about this.”

“Then I can confirm this video must be fake.”

Yu Zhi Qiao was puzzled: “Why would Eldest Sister do such a thing?”

Yu Zhi Huai said disdainfully: “After Father kicked her out, she had to find some way to survive.”

“Who would’ve thought she’d resort to deception for attention.”

Unable to sit still, he added: “No! I have to bring her back!”

Yu Zhi Qiao quickly stopped him: “Don’t be impulsive. Let’s discuss this with Father and Mother first.”

Without turning back, Yu Zhi Huai replied: “Father can’t be bothered with her anymore. I won’t let Eldest Sister disgrace our family again.”

As an Alpha, he was tall and long-legged—Yu Zhi Qiao couldn’t stop him and could only watch helplessly as he stormed out.

Seeing she couldn’t prevent it, Yu Zhi Qiao frowned in thought for a moment before also getting up to find their mother.

Meanwhile, Yu Zhi Tao and A Jiu were also heading out with the guqin.

This time, they didn’t go straight to the bar. Yu Zhi Tao took A Jiu to a shopping mall to buy her a smartband.

Like modern fitness trackers, the compact device was small but packed with features.

Receiving the gift, A Jiu was momentarily stunned.

“Why did you think to get me this?” she asked.

Yu Zhi Tao stuck out her tongue playfully: “Should’ve done it sooner. Not having a smartband is so inconvenient these days. Ugh, why wouldn’t you let me get the new model? This one’s practically outdated.”

“You shouldn’t spend money on me,” Ah Jiu said calmly.

Outdated meant cheaper.

Seeing Yu Zhi Tao about to pout, she added: “The functions are basically the same anyway.”

Only then did Yu Zhi Tao relent, nodding: “When we have more money later, we’ll upgrade to the newest models together.”

With that, she skipped cheerfully toward the mall exit.

Getting back into the rental car, Yu Zhitao leaned against Ah Jiu’s shoulder to rest with her eyes closed, while Ah Jiu took the opportunity to adjust the smart brain.

She wasn’t used to this civilian model, having never used one before.

But after spending some time, she managed to log in using a fake identity account she had registered long ago for convenience.

Her real identity account couldn’t be used—otherwise, it would cause chaos.

Not many people knew about this fake account, and the few contacts in the address book were all her trusted aides.

As soon as she logged in, Ah Jiu saw several unread messages in her inbox.

Her deputy, Wan Qing, knowing she would use this account if she logged in, had sent all the updates here.

Skipping past a few inquiries about her where abouts, Ah Jiu focused on the last two critical messages.

[After you left, the Empress Dowager violated protocol and visited the Forbidden Palace again.]

[The Council of Elders is discussing the possibility of using embryo or cloning technology to secure a new heir for the Empire, in case your condition cannot be treated.]

A rare frown creased Ah Jiu’s brow.

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