The Fallen Film Queen’s Possessive Alpha - Chapter 19

The relationship between the Zuo family and Song Haoyin was fraught with undercurrents. As Song Haoyin had suspected, the Zuo family hadn’t resorted to extreme measures against her not because they didn’t want to, but because they couldn’t.

With Zhou Qiwei stepping in, she had the financial backing to support Song Haoyin in a prolonged battle against the Zuo family. At a time when the Zuo family was undergoing a transition, they had no desire to stir up unnecessary trouble by provoking an enemy like Zhou Qiwei.

Speaking with intelligent people required little effort. Song Haoyin immediately understood that if Zhou Qiwei mentioned the possibility of the Zuo family coming to beg her, then she must have something major planned. However, since Zhou Qiwei wasn’t willing to elaborate, Song Haoyin didn’t press further. It was like acting some scenes required “genuine emotion,” and “not knowing” was sometimes a necessary condition for the performance.

Only by remaining unaware could one deliver the most authentic reaction, convincing the audience of the performance.

“How did you find this private restaurant?” Song Haoyin glanced around the surroundings. It seemed they were the only guests being served, with young attendants both men and women, all above average in looks bringing tea and snacks before quickly retreating from the courtyard. If anything was needed, a simple press of the bell at hand would summon them back immediately.

“It’s newly opened. The owner is an acquaintance of Du Xin’s, I heard about it from her.”

Hearing this, Song Haoyin recalled something: “On the premiere day of The Fuse , Du Xin brought Principal Du to the screening, though we didn’t get to meet. It’s a shame. I haven’t had the chance to thank her yet. Are they related? I never heard her mention it back in school.”

“Oh, no need to thank her.”

Zhou Qiwei smirked, her tone still light and teasing: “She might not have even wanted to. You know how it is sometimes you just have to grit your teeth and take annoying relatives to a free movie.”

Song Haoyin nearly dropped her teacup from laughter: “How could that be? That’s Principal Du we’re talking about. When she was our principal, she was practically the idol of the entire school. I heard she has two daughters. Later, when I became the spokesperson for Continental Airlines, I found out the CEO was her daughter Zhou Mu. Just from the name, you can tell she must have a great relationship with her wife.”

Zhou Qiwei burst into laughter at this, startling Song Haoyin, who watched as the woman nearly collapsed onto the table in amusement. Confused, Song Haoyin wondered was there something funny about what she’d just said?

“Ahem.” Zhou Qiwei coughed, still catching her breath, her face slightly flushed but her complexion looking better for it. “You’re underestimating your dear Principal Du. Her ambitions are far grander than that. When naming her daughter, she wasn’t just hoping for harmony with her wife.”

Song Haoyin didn’t believe her. This woman, with her background in biology, couldn’t possibly be an expert in linguistics too. “Oh? Then what does ‘Mu’ mean reconciliation?”

“When the nine clans are in harmony, the people are governed with fairness.”

Zhou Qiwei smirked, glancing up at the sky as if telling a joke: “One of Principal Du’s lifelong regrets is that she was too lovestruck in her youth, getting tied down early, only for her career to suffer because of her wife’s family. So when she had daughters, she spent her days dreaming of them ruling over the nine provinces and ten thousand states, hoping they’d become the one and only sun in the sky.”

“Her career didn’t go well?”

Faced with Song Haoyin’s surprise, Zhou Qiwei countered: “Why don’t you switch to producing? Just based on The Fuse’s performance, you’ve already got your ticket in.”

When this topic was brought up, Song Haoyin looked serious, but more than anything, she seemed resigned. “If I switch careers now, people will just see me as a deserter, confirming that ‘water queen’ label.”

The notion that Song Haoyin’s Best Actress awards lacked prestige didn’t start when the Zuo family began targeting her. Public opinion had long held that her first award for Wild Cat was practically tailor-made by her mother Song Yu it would’ve been strange if she hadn’t won.

Her second Best Actress trophy came from the Sanctuary Film Festival, a niche and obscure event. While film enthusiasts might recognize its merit, to the general public, it barely registered. “Song Haoyin has a second Best Actress award? From which festival? What even is ‘Sanctuary’? Never heard of it.”

Whether it was being branded as “only successful because of her mother” or dismissed as a “washed-up actress who lost her spark,” Song Haoyin refused to accept either narrative. In the past, it was pride; now, it was pride, defending her mother’s reputation, and refusing to let certain people look down on her.

For all these reasons, until she reached the pinnacle of acting and earned genuine recognition, she would never consider switching careers.

Zhou Qiwei’s question made Song Haoyin reflect on herself, and she began to understand Principal Du Ning’s frustration being unable to advance in the career you’re passionate about must be deeply disheartening. Still, she couldn’t help but ask, “What’s her other daughter’s name? Surely it’s not also”

“The people are enlightened, and all nations live in harmony. Her eldest is named Zhou Zhao.”

As a top student well-versed in both literature and the arts, Song Haoyin had taken classical Chinese courses. Given the reference to the Book of Documents, Zhou Qiwei’s words might not be entirely baseless.

“What else could she possibly want? From my perspective, the principal’s career has already been rich and illustrious enough.” Song Haoyin was genuinely curious, after Xu Su’s explanation, she couldn’t fathom what else Principal Du aspired to.

Zhou Qiwei, unusually talkative today, replied, “She wanted to shape an entire generation’s thinking. When she realized that was impossible, she settled for becoming a principal.”

“She did well at that.”

If political ambitions failed, being a great principal wasn’t a bad alternative. Song Haoyin agreed wholeheartedly. “During her tenure, students adored her. First University’s traditions were so archaic, some were downright toxic like how Betas and Omegas weren’t allowed to enter through the main gate during the anniversary ceremony or walk across the central lawn to the grand hall. Somehow, Principal Du found out and scrapped that rule.”

Zhou Qiwei stayed silent. She knew this story, Zhou Qing had been publicly humiliated by the rule and reportedly cried in fury, swearing to upend every unreasonable tradition at First University out of sheer spite.

Petty, vindictive, scheming, opportunistic these were all traits inherited from her two mothers. Of the three Zhou siblings, the other two only got fragments of those qualities. Zhou Qiwei alone had them all.

The service here was excellent, the food delicious, and the atmosphere between the two women was harmonious. Song Haoyin had originally intended to apologize, but whenever she brought it up, Zhou Qiwei would change the subject, as if hoping their argument had never happened. That was fine keeping the mood light and avoiding unpleasant topics. Besides, Zhou Qiwei was such a great conversationalist that Song Haoyin realized no matter what they discussed, the other woman never let the conversation falter.

“Since you don’t plan to be a producer, are you eyeing any good projects now?” Zhou Qiwei was genuinely interested in Song Haoyin’s career plans. “Just asking casually. If you have concrete plans, I can adjust my schedule in advance to match yours.” The moment the words left her mouth, Zhou Qiwei realized she shouldn’t have phrased it that way.

It made it sound as if the only reason they met was because of pheromones or her rut as if that was all there was between them. But that wasn’t true at all

Song Haoyin noticed that Zhou Qiwei had a real talent for digging her own grave. Did she have some kind of self-sabotaging streak? Her expression always gave her away she only realized her words were off after she’d already said them. Adjusting schedules? What exactly between them required schedule coordination?

Nothing but pheromones and ruts, as if their meetings could only be tied to those things. So what were they doing now? Waiting to finish dinner and head straight to a hotel?

Song Haoyin sighed. She had planned to let it go, but the irritation lingered. “I owe you an apology. That incident you were just trying to help, and I overreacted. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

Zhou Qiwei fidgeted with her chopsticks, circling them restlessly as if suddenly unsure where to place them.

She was skilled in negotiations, adept at handling hostility but utterly inept at dealing with apologies. Especially one as sincere as Song Haoyin’s. It left Zhou Qiwei flustered. Deep down, she knew she sometimes felt wronged too, but voicing it felt shameful. She was used to swallowing it down.

“I really didn’t mean any harm.”

Finally, Zhou Qiwei settled on a spot for her chopsticks, arranging them neatly across her bowl. She kept her head down, avoiding Song Haoyin’s gaze. “That day, when you, when you hugged me, I just lost my head. If I really wanted to interfere with your career, I wouldn’t have been so obvious about it. You don’t have to trust my character, but at least don’t doubt my intelligence.”

What did she mean, hugging her made her lose her head? Did she even hear herself?

Song Haoyin’s cheeks burned. She propped her chin in her hand, refusing to look at Zhou Qiwei to hide her expression. She didn’t doubt Zhou Qiwei’s intelligence, which only made her suspect the woman was playing dumb. Absolutely playing dumb!

In this quiet courtyard, beneath the blooming trees, two women who looked perfectly matched sat together yet refused to meet each other’s eyes. After a long silence, the older one finally spoke. “I planned to apologize during dinner today, but every time I tried, you changed the subject. I thought you didn’t want me to bring it up.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Zhou Qiwei muttered, squirming as if searching for an escape route. “I didn’t explain myself well either. You weren’t entirely wrong I’m not exactly a saint either.” Song Haoyin had called her own reaction excessive, but Zhou Qiwei had been just as guilty.

“That’s not the right way to put it.” Song Haoyin smiled gently as she poured Zhou Qiwei a cup of tea herself: “Even if we both made mistakes, mine were still greater. Just because you think you’re at fault doesn’t mean I should consider myself blameless.”

The soft-spoken sugar-coated bombardment left Zhou Qiwei utterly disoriented. The CEO’s entire demeanor changed,when leaving the restaurant, she barely contained her buoyant steps as she walked happily beside Song Haoyin. An ordinary person might think she was easy to handle, but Miss Song, being emotionally healthy and kindhearted, felt a pang of sadness instead. What kind of upbringing would make someone so easily comforted?

The private dining establishment had separate entrance and exit routes. Zhou Qiwei led Song Haoyin out through the southern gate after leaving the courtyard. As the waiter politely held the door open, wishing them a pleasant departure, they had barely stepped outside when someone called out: “Haoyin-jie!”

The caller was a delicate-featured woman reeking of heavily mixed Alpha and Omega pheromones. Zhou Qiwei’s brows furrowed instinctively as she recoiled ever since returning from Vold, she couldn’t stand overwhelming pheromone concentrations.

“What’s wrong?” Song Haoyin noticed her companion’s pained expression. Zhou Qiwei gripped her hand tightly: “That stench is killing me!”

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