The Fallen Film Queen’s Possessive Alpha - Chapter 41

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the Pheromone Research Committee, colleagues from the Pheromone Research Association:

First, allow me to express my gratitude to the organizing committee of this conference for granting me the honor of speaking at the opening ceremony. This grand gathering brings together distinguished experts, scholars, and industry elites from around the world, where we will collectively explore the significant impact of pheromones in human society.

As miraculous substances within our bodies, pheromones are closely related to both our physiology and psychology. They not only influence individual behavior and social interactions but also profoundly affect the structure and functioning of entire societies. In this era of rapid transformation, we need deeper understanding of pheromones’ role to actively respond to increasingly complex environments.

I deeply appreciate the importance of maintaining an open mindset when exploring this field. I believe that through our collective efforts and research, we can propel pheromone studies to new heights.

Finally, I sincerely hope this conference becomes a platform for scholars to exchange ideas and discuss challenges, and that we may forge new partnerships and discover collaborative opportunities here. Wishing this conference complete success.”

The World Pheromone Research Conference, though not as widely followed as the World Cup, could still be viewed live on public television by interested parties like Song Haoyin at this moment.

This was Zhou Qiwei’s brief speech on stage, ending as crisply as her personality.

The film crew had reaped substantial rewards here. Their movie was scheduled for the first day of competition and received excellent reviews. Several film distribution companies had already signed agreements covering distribution and screening rights. Copyright licensing was routine business for film companies—once buyers emerged, the subsequent legal paperwork was handled with practiced ease.

After greeting some filmmaker acquaintances, Qu Yuanzhi returned to their meeting room to find Song Haoyin watching TV with an inexplicable smile. She soon understood why—the figure on screen was all too familiar: her mischievous friend Ms. Zhou Qiwei, now fielding press questions.

“Dr. Zhou, Alpha worship particularly male Alpha worship—persists worldwide. As both an Alpha and pheromone researcher, what’s your perspective on this social issue? Additionally, are the physiological differences between Alphas, Omegas and Betas truly significant enough to warrant biological classification?”

Wow, Qu Yuanzhi thought, that’s quite the loaded question. Song Haoyin also straightened slightly, awaiting Zhou Qiwei’s response.

“For generations, Omegas and Betas have shouldered reproductive burdens, creating genuine distinctions among ABO genders in many aspects.

Take hormones, for instance. Hormonal differences lead to variations in muscle mass, bone density, and skeletal structure among the three genders. These indicators do surpass median thresholds. However, this doesn’t justify the myriad forms of Alpha worship. As we’ve all heard: the differences between individual Alphas exceed those between humans and monkeys.”

Laughter filled the venue, and Qu Yuanzhi joined in with a hearty chuckle. It was then that Song Haoyin noticed Director Yuanbao standing behind them.

“Alphas have higher muscle mass, greater bone density, and comparatively stronger skeletal structures. But these traits evolved to adapt to prolonged warfare. Without scientific and technological advancements, many Alphas here today myself included would be cannon fodder on the battlefield. The enhanced capacity for violence and greater destructive potential is actually quite tragic.”

“If anyone uses their gender’s advantages to indiscriminately harm others through violence, I can only say their evolution seems stuck in primitive society. For such archaic humans, my suggestion is to send them to research institutes as test subjects they might even contribute to breakthroughs in pheromone studies.”

“While differences exist, they merely reflect biological diversity and richness, which form the foundation of biological research.”

“As for so-called Alpha worship, I personally view it as violence worship. To address this, we must deepen research, foster broad collaboration, increase investment, enhance public security, reduce destructive tendencies in some Alphas, and strengthen Omega and Beta capabilities.”

This slippery character. Qu Yuanzhi didn’t bother hiding her sarcastic remark, drawing Song Haoyin’s attention. Yuanzhi shrugged: “Her conclusion about win-win cooperation still harks back to York’s anti-magic cube protests.”

“But she stayed on topic,” Song Haoyin fairly assessed. “We can’t dump social issues on scientists unless we want them developing mind control? Actually, that would make great material.”

Great material indeed, but without a script, Yuanzhi shrugged.

Undeterred, Song Haoyin enthusiastically launched into creative brainstorming: “Forget the script if it’s mind control, what theme works best? Societal crisis from human mind control? Or dark humor like how the propertied class becomes neo-humans via neural interfaces, only to face global blackout where neo-humans break down like machines?”

“What would happen to them?” Following this logic gave Yuanzhi chills: “Conventionally, the old humans would eliminate them, right? Absolutely!”

“The old humans already believe neo-humans are smarter, faster successfully evolved and thus superior. So they desperately ‘save’ the blackout victims. Upon succeeding, the neo-humans immediately spot the flaw: if any key old human decides to replace them, they’re doomed. Thus, they resolve to exterminate all old humans.”

Yuanzhi’s laugh turned grim Song Haoyin’s angelic face spun terrifying tales. Yet such a story, ending with old humans being lured to their deaths at a victory banquet under the pretense of “neural upgrades,” would make for dark humor indeed.

“But isn’t this too cruel to the old humans?”

Later that evening, Qu Yuanyuan, Xiang Zi, the Song sisters Haoyin and An’ge, along with Zhou Qiwei who had brought An’ge along, gathered for dinner. During the meal, when the story was mentioned, Song An’ge expressed confusion: “Would audiences really enjoy this kind of story where good people don’t get their just rewards?”

Zhou Qiwei set down her fork, pondered carefully, and declared: “If it were me, I’d like this film. The foolish deeds of fools must be punished stupidity is evil in itself.”

Xiang Zi realized this type of film had a clear target audience. If executed well, it could at least garner good reviews within that demographic. After some thought, she asked: “Is there already a draft script?”

“…No.” Qu Yuanyuan had never written science fiction before and wasn’t particularly interested. If such a script really existed, she wouldn’t dare direct it.

“Why don’t you write it yourself?” Zhou Qiwei looked at Song Haoyin and made her suggestion: “You already have the creative concept you could try writing the script yourself.”

“That’s right!” Xiang Zi immediately voiced her agreement. “Haoyin could give it a try, even just a draft. If it really doesn’t work out, we can always hold a writers’ meeting.”

With friends and family encouraging her to write the script, Song Haoyin felt quite tempted. She had written some sketches during college perhaps she could try her hand at screenwriting now. If she couldn’t manage it, there were always other options. After dinner, Haoyin returned to the villa and pulled out her laptop, leaving Zhou Qiwei to sit mournfully at the other end of the sofa.

An’ge was also there the sisters were planning a late-night talk. Blocking An’ge’s view at the doorway, Song Haoyin lifted Zhou Qiwei’s chin and teased: “President Zhou will just have to sleep alone tonight.”

Tossing and turning in bed, Zhou Qiwei found herself unable to sleep. She had grown accustomed to having her beloved beside her, drifting off to the warmth of another’s body. Now, forced to sleep alone again, she felt utterly desolate. The sleepless CEO rolled over repeatedly before her guilty hand reached for her phone, initiating the most dreaded act for any employee a sudden late-night work demand from the boss.

“About having you return the auction items and reorganize them according to my plan is it done yet?”

“Anyway, I expect the renovations to be completed by the time I return. How can such a small project take you so long? It’s been months!”

“Hurry up!”

After playing the role of the heartless boss, the room seemed slightly warmer. Zhou Qiwei wrapped herself tightly in the silk sheets so cold she resolved to switch to cotton bedding.

As her mind began losing clarity, Zhou Qiwei was finally drifting off to sleep when, at some point, the bedroom door opened. Struggling to wake up, she felt someone gently stroke her hair and whisper in her ear like a siren luring sailors: “Sleep, sleep.”

She slept soundly through the night, with a warm body pressed close against her. Without even needing to turn and look, Zhou Qiwei knew from the faint fragrance the person lying beside her was Song Haoyin.

Miss Song’s future sci-fi masterpiece had barely begun when the scriptwriting had to be temporarily paused. On the final day of the film festival, Qu Yuanyuan brought good news: the script they had previously considered couldn’t be filmed because actress Liu Shiyu’s schedule wouldn’t permit it. The original author had sold the script to Ferris Wheel Productions, with Qu Yuanyuan set to direct personally and she wanted Song Haoyin as the female lead!

December marked the Luocheng Film Festival. Considering the year-end workload, filming was scheduled to begin the following April. From this moment on, Zhou Qiwei truly witnessed Song Haoyin’s work ethic. She began collaborating with Qu Yuanzhi to scout locations, sketching scene layouts from the script, deciding which film studio would host most scenes and where special sequences would be shot along with negotiating property rights.

As for Song Haoyin herself, she followed a strict protein-rich diet, consulted professionals to optimize her physique and enhance muscle definition. Beyond this, she even cut her hair short to better embody the character.

After a cocktail reception with the bio-information research lobby group, a slightly tipsy Zhou Qiwei returned to their hotel villa. At the garden gate, she spotted a familiar silhouette though the short hair gave her pause. Hesitating a few steps away, she tentatively called out, “Hello?”

It was Song Haoyin!

Gone was the glamorous allure of her long-haired version. The short-haired, makeup-free Song Haoyin now exuded a striking, powerful beauty especially in her gaze. For some reason today, she carried a faintly intimidating aura.

Miss Song, however, seemed dissatisfied with Zhou’s reaction. Was she displeased with the short hair? Some kind of long-hair fetishist?

“Well?” The seasoned actress flipped her hair with practiced confidence.

Zhou Qiwei’s eyes had already turned starry. She closed the distance, studying the short-haired version of Miss Song before abandoning words altogether sliding a hand around Haoyin’s waist and kissing her directly.

“Yikes!”

The startled yelp separated them. Song Haoyin glared at her younger sister, though Song An’ge looked more aggrieved she’d only come to open the door. Who expected to find her senior kissing her own sister. Do you know what this does to a vibrant young singleton’s psyche?!

“So I cut it short. Fits the retired agent image better, right?”

Hands on hips in the living room, Song Haoyin sought opinions from both sister and girlfriend. Her sister nodded enthusiastically, but her partner had reservations.

After careful scrutiny, Zhou Qiwei delivered her verdict: “Not quite. For full authenticity, your hair should be messier, skin texture less flawless, with overall more dissipated energy.”

“Actually, if your character’s a washed-up ex agent, she wouldn’t consciously maintain combat readiness muscle tone, reflexes, etc. Realistically, skills deteriorate post-retirement. If she were actively maintaining capabilities, mentally she wouldn’t be so dejected she’d need clearer purpose.”

This gave Song Haoyin pause. She sat down, seriously considering Zhou’s input. Though the CEO claimed limited film knowledge, her sharp observations often pinpointed industry blind spots. As the only veteran among Haoyin’s circle, her perspective carried professional weight despite Zhou’s self-deprecating disclaimers.

“I served as military police, not special forces. If you want true realism, you’ll need proper consultants though I can connect you with the right people.”

This matter wasn’t urgent and could wait until returning home. When Zhou Qiwei mentioned the issue of military service, Song Haoyin suddenly thought of her younger sister, Ange was also an Alpha.

“Can someone in Ange’s situation apply for exemption?”

Unlike her worried sister, Song Ange herself was indifferent. She neither yearned for the uniform nor resisted it, immediately raising her hand to indicate she could serve normally if required.

“Ange doesn’t need to go.” Under the sisters’ gazes, Zhou Qiwei patiently explained: “If Ange completes her PhD normally, she’ll automatically qualify for exemption. Moreover, as someone with hormone dysregulation syndrome, she could directly submit an exemption application.”

Zhou Qiwei concluded: “Avoid it if possible. Personally, I disliked military life and its cultural environment. I only enlisted early due to special circumstances. If you’re simply interested in military equipment, you’d be better off joining an in-depth military tourism program.”

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