Reborn as the Heartless Alpha - Chapter 35

Song Yi didn’t claim to understand girls well, but she knew the general truth that most of them appreciated flowers and romance.

Even though she and Zhou Zhou shared no special romantic connection, she wanted her to be happy. When she saw the flowers, she felt Zhou Zhou would like them and bought them without a second thought.

Entering the house, she noticed Zhou Zhou hadn’t seen her, so she lightened her footsteps, hoping to surprise her. This was her first time actively trying to cheer a girl up, and every cell in her body seemed to be buzzing with excitement. With every step toward Zhou Zhou, her heartbeat quickened with nervous anticipation.

Finally, she called out Zhou Zhou’s name and presented the colorful, eclectic bouquet from behind her. She expected to see a sweet smile, a sign that the morning’s minor unpleasantness had been forgotten.

However, things did not go as she had hoped.

Zhou Zhou’s shoulders suddenly began to shake. A few seconds later, a soft sob escaped her.

She was crying.

Song Yi’s racing heart skipped a beat, and her hand gripping the bouquet stiffened. After a moment, she hurried forward and asked with concern, “What happened?”

Zhou Zhou didn’t speak; she only shook her head, looking utterly aggrieved.

Even without knowing the reason, Song Yi felt a pang of heartache. She must have had good intentions that led to a bad result again; perhaps the flowers, meant to bring joy, had triggered a painful memory instead. This was the most logical explanation Song Yi could find, yet she couldn’t recall anything in the original book about Zhou Zhou having a traumatic history related to flowers.

“I’m sorry, Zhou Zhou. I bought them just hoping to make you happy. I didn’t know you disliked flowers. I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

When it came to offering comfort, Song Yi realized she lacked the skill entirely. She was at a loss for words. No matter how decisive or authoritative she had been in her previous life’s career, she could only stand by helplessly now.

Zhou Zhou’s crying intensified, as if a long-suppressed reservoir of grievance and tears had finally burst. Song Yi hid the flowers behind her back and stayed by her side in silence, listening to her cries with a heavy heart.

Zhou Zhou hadn’t wanted to cry, but she couldn’t help it. She rarely cried because she had learned early on that it was useless. Growing up in an orphanage, she knew she wasn’t like children with parents; no one would comfort her. A first cry might get attention, but a second would likely bring annoyance. She had learned to be sensible and to never trouble others.

But hearing Ms. Song’s voice and seeing that bright, vibrant bouquet, her composure simply evaporated. When Ms. Song misunderstood and apologized for the flowers, her tears broke through the final dam.

Ms. Song was too kind to her.

Every day since meeting her felt like a dream. She loved the dream, but dreams eventually end, and she was terrified of the moment she would have to wake up. She cried as if to vent everything, hoping that by draining her tears, she could discard all her impossible fantasies and return to normal.

Normally, she would worry about her livelihood, about being a weak Omega harassed by Alphas, or about a bleak future. She shouldn’t be worrying about these luxurious emotions. She should only view Ms. Song as a benefactor, holding nothing but gratitude.

But she knew she was lying to herself. Though she hated to admit it, she had truly fallen for Ms. Song.

She liked her.

The only saving grace was that Ms. Song hadn’t noticed. They were worlds apart in social status; Ms. Song would never even consider such a possibility.

As her crying subsided, she felt a sense of release. Song Yi, hearing the sobs fade, felt relieved and tucked the offending flowers further behind her back. Just as she was wondering how to dispose of them, Zhou Zhou stood up. Her eyes, red from weeping, met Song Yi’s. She clearly had something to say.

Song Yi swallowed nervously, her grip tightening on the bouquet. She wished the bright flowers would simply vanish into thin air. They were the culprits behind Zhou Zhou’s sadness.

After a few seconds of silent eye contact, Zhou Zhou finally spoke, her voice slightly raspy.

“Ms. Song, may I give you a hug?”

Zhou Zhou looked up slightly, her request barely a whisper. Her eyes, nose, and cheeks were all flushed red.

This was something Song Yi had never anticipated. She stood frozen, thinking she had misheard. She wanted to ask Zhou Zhou to repeat it, but she felt it might make the girl even more embarrassed.

She recalled seeing people on foreign streets standing blindfolded with signs that read, “Stranger, can I have an encouraging hug?” It was said that a hug was the warmest, most healing gesture. Zhou Zhou likely just needed that kind of comfort.

Once she rationalized it, Song Yi relaxed. A gentle smile spread across her strong yet soft features. She decided to give Zhou Zhou the hug. However, her hands were still occupied with the flowers behind her back. She was trying to figure out how to embrace her without the bouquet coming back into view.

Suddenly, a warm, soft body crashed into her. Small hands wrapped around her waist as Zhou Zhou took the initiative. When they collided, Song Yi felt her own heart tremble.

Zhou Zhou’s heart was racing even faster, pounding so hard she feared it might burst through her throat and confess her secret, wishful love. She pulled back slightly, afraid that staying too close would expose her feelings.

“Thank you, Ms. Song,” Zhou Zhou whispered. She felt Ms. Song’s warmth and was filled with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. Ms. Song was such a good person, always willing to help her and even granting a request as intimate as a hug.

Zhou Zhou released her waist, fully stepped out of the embrace, and fled upstairs.

Song Yi stood there for a long time, unable to recover her senses. Eventually, her arms grew tired, and she brought the flowers back to the front. Among the dozens of blooms, the Strelitzia remained upright and bright, but the lilies beside them looked a bit wilted, their white petals drooping like the weeping Zhou Zhou.

Song Yi paced the living room, wondering what to do with them. Then, she noticed the six cardboard boxes in the corner. She crouched down and found the handicraft materials she had ordered the night before.

She tossed the “unlucky” flowers aside and took a box to the sofa. Slicing through the tape with her keys, she found eight different colors of long star-folding papers and a set of instructions.

She studied the paper carefully, then took out a strip of blue paper with fine glitter. Folding stars was much easier than weaving grasshoppers. She soon completed one; it was round, three-dimensional, and according to the description, it would glow in the dark.

She covered her eyes with her hands to test it. In the darkness, the star emitted a faint glow. Encouraged, she kept folding. Before long, a pile of stars had grown on the sofa.

Her back grew sore from leaning over, so she stood up to stretch. She went back to the boxes, opened the rest, and found four beautiful glass jars, perfect for the stars. She chose one with an elegant pattern and filled it with her creations. Feeling it wasn’t enough, she folded more until the jar was full.

She found a black pen and pink sticky notes. Leaning against the sofa arm, she wrote: “I’m sorry, Zhou Zhou.”

She stuck the note onto the jar and carried the container of eight-colored glowing stars upstairs. She placed it in front of Zhou Zhou’s door, glanced at the closed entrance, and then walked to her own room.

Standing by the window, she saw the sun disappearing behind the distant mountains. It was getting dark. She had spent the entire afternoon folding stars; no wonder her neck and shoulders ached and her eyes felt dry. She decided to take a nap and quickly fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from waking up so early.

In the next room, Zhou Zhou had been in a state of turmoil all afternoon. She regretted her bold hug and felt ashamed of her feelings, fearing she was falling too deep. She decided to resign early.

She had even written a formal resignation letter and packed her few belongings into a travel bag. She took off the beautiful white dress that didn’t belong to her and changed back into her own faded T-shirt, trousers, and canvas shoes.

As she opened her door to leave, she hesitated. Ms. Song had just changed the locks for her safety, and now she was leaving. A wave of reluctance washed over her. As she stepped out and turned, her foot hit something with a soft clink.

The hallway lights were off, and the area was dim. Zhou Zhou followed the sound and saw a faint glow. She pressed the light switch and found a round glass jar by her feet.

She crouched down. The jar was intricately patterned and beautiful, but the contents were even more surprising—it was filled with stars that glowed in the dark. A sticky note was attached. Ms. Song had written: “Zhou Zhou, I’m sorry.”

Her heart began to throb uncontrollably, and a lingering attachment took hold. Zhou Zhou held the beautiful jar in both hands, staring at it. Inside, the stars seemed to be blinking at her.

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