The Five Heartless Scumbag Alphas Turned Against Each Other Because Of Me - Chapter 34

Under Tan Hua’s curious gaze, Wen Chuan finally snapped back to reality—only to be met with the playful glint in Tan Hua’s eyes.

“…”

The phone buzzing persistently in her palm suddenly felt like a hot potato. For a moment, Wen Chuan wanted nothing more than to toss it away. Or better yet—hang up, turn it off, pretend it never rang.

Everything had been going so well just now.
The tension between her and Tan Hua had eased. Their misunderstandings were clearing up. Wen Chuan had felt that, maybe, just maybe, tonight their relationship could take a significant step forward.

And then—Cheng Yuan called.

Of all the times to appear, Cheng Yuan had chosen now.

Wen Chuan stood frozen, the ringtone “A Little Happiness” playing on loop. She used to love this song. But now, after hearing it too many times, it only made her irritable.

She wasn’t mad at Cheng Yuan. She didn’t dislike her. But… she just wished Cheng Yuan hadn’t chosen this moment to interrupt.

She’d finally cornered Tan Hua, finally forced her to waver. Now, that leverage was slipping through her fingers.

Wen Chuan’s expression darkened.

The Alpha stood motionless. Tan Hua tilted her head, glanced over curiously, and asked,
“You’re really not going to answer? It’s rare for her to call you.”

Those clear, inquisitive eyes blinked up at her, and Tan Hua added,
“If you don’t pick up soon, it’s going to disconnect again. What if she gets upset? Then you’ll have to explain things later.”

Her tone was genuinely helpful. But Wen Chuan didn’t appreciate it. She stared at Tan Hua, her expression unreadable.

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she felt about Cheng Yuan anymore.
When Tan Hua casually mentioned earlier that Cheng Yuan had reached out to Sheng Yiheng first—hours ago—something inside her had shifted.

If Cheng Yuan truly cared for her… wouldn’t she have reached out to her first?
Wouldn’t she have at least replied to her messages or congratulated her for the award?

Maybe Cheng Yuan didn’t care as much as she’d thought.

Maybe Wen Chuan was just some lonely little girl Cheng Yuan pitied. Maybe that was why she was always so nice—taking her out, treating her kindly, offering comfort.

Maybe Wen Chuan had misread it all.

Maybe she had fallen, quietly and deeply, for someone who had never seen her that way.
And she had never confessed, because deep down, she already knew:

If that feeling ever saw the light of day, it would vanish.
Melt like snow, gone without a trace.

Wen Chuan’s mind spiraled until the ringing abruptly stopped.
Silence settled once again.

Tan Hua stared at the screen, a little disappointed.
“You really didn’t pick up?” she asked. Her tone was curious, almost teasing.

Something didn’t add up.
Wen Chuan, in Tan Hua’s mind, should’ve been wagging her tail by now, skipping off to the nearest corner to whisper sweet nothings with her beloved Cheng Yuan.

But here she was—hesitating. Conflicted. Complex emotions playing out on her face.

It surprised Tan Hua more than she expected.

Wen Chuan, jolted back by Tan Hua’s voice, stared down at her phone. Then, after a pause, she held out her trophy.

“Hold this for me,” she said.

Tan Hua took it with both hands, watching her closely, amused by the strange seriousness in her expression.

Wen Chuan looked away quickly, almost embarrassed.
Her voice dropped: “Wait here. I’ll be back after I talk to her.”

Then she frowned slightly, adding sternly, “Don’t go anywhere. Especially don’t walk out of my line of sight.”

That bossy Alpha tone returned.

Tan Hua rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Go do your thing. I’ll sit and chill for a bit.”

She glanced around and pointed toward a bench nearby.
“There. I’ll wait for you there. Cool?”

Wen Chuan followed the direction of her finger. Tan Hua’s hand was slim, fair, and delicate—almost like a porcelain beauty’s in an old painting.

Beautiful enough to eat.

“…Okay.” Wen Chuan nodded and walked toward the plaza alone. Once there, she took a deep breath and hit the redial button.

Her feelings were a mess—nervous, but not exactly nervous. It was hard to describe.

In the past, she would’ve dropped everything to answer Cheng Yuan’s video call the second it came through. She’d be glowing, giddy, ecstatic.

But today… she didn’t feel that spark.

In fact, there was even a trace of… impatience.

It scared her a little.

As she spiraled into self-doubt, the call connected.

Cheng Yuan’s beautiful, familiar face filled the screen.

Wen Chuan instinctively held her breath—but something had changed.

She could no longer look at Cheng Yuan the same way.
Not with ease, not with comfort. And most of all, not without guilt.

Probably… because of Tan Hua.

Tan Hua was just a few steps away, waiting patiently.
Yet here she was, on the verge of sweet-talking the original of Tan Hua’s supposed stand-in—right in front of her.
That felt… cruel.

Wen Chuan suddenly couldn’t breathe properly.

Cheng Yuan immediately noticed Wen Chuan’s distraction but said nothing. She greeted her as usual, warmly and casually, “Why did it take you so long to answer? Were you busy just now?”

Wen Chuan paused. Then, shaking her head—only to nod again—she replied, “I was with some friends. Didn’t hear the phone ringing.”

And just like that, the first lie passed her lips. After breaking the dam, the rest came easier.

Cheng Yuan’s eyes sparkled, her smile bright and warm. “I heard about it! Xiao Chuan won first place in her basketball match today.”

Her voice was soft, soothing, and full of unmistakable praise. “You’re still just as amazing as ever.”

Wen Chuan forced a smile. “Not as amazing as you, Jie… You’re overseas studying, while I’m still struggling in school.”

But as she said it, she realized something in her heart had shifted.
She was tired—tired of always being treated like a child, coddled and patted on the head.

She wanted to be taken seriously. She wanted Cheng Yuan to see her as an equal. As someone who had grown up.

“That’s because you haven’t applied yourself yet,” Cheng Yuan laughed. “You’re so smart—if you really focused, you’d easily top the class.”

“To me, Xiao Chuan will always be the best.”

Wen Chuan didn’t know how to respond.
What Cheng Yuan said wasn’t wrong—she’d always known Wen Chuan wasn’t fond of studying. But still…

She couldn’t describe this feeling. It was like she was choking on sweet syrup.

Cheng Yuan must have sensed something off, because she suddenly changed the topic, “So, where are you hanging out with your friends tonight? Anyone I know?”

“Uh… res—restaurant.” Wen Chuan nearly blurted out bar before catching herself mid-word and changing course.
“I had my phone on silent in my bag. That’s why I didn’t hear it.”

“It’s just some teammates from the basketball team. You don’t know them,” she added.

“Oh, I see. Well, when I’m back, you’ll have to introduce us sometime.”

Wen Chuan nodded halfheartedly, suddenly losing interest in the conversation.
Her gaze wandered toward Tan Hua. The Omega was sitting obediently on the bench, exactly where she said she’d wait.

But her eyes… were anything but obedient.

Wen Chuan watched as Tan Hua’s gaze shamelessly followed one beautiful woman after another—those entering, exiting, or simply passing by the nearby bar.
Wen Chuan’s face darkened immediately.

She may have physically restrained Tan Hua from entering the bar, but she couldn’t control her eyes.

The Omega still looked around brazenly, eyes gleaming as if picking her next conquest. It was maddening!

Wen Chuan’s expression visibly soured. Cheng Yuan picked up on it quickly and asked, “What’s wrong, Xiao Chuan? Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” Wen Chuan answered stiffly. “Just… saw someone I really don’t like.”

She held up her phone, eyelashes casting soft shadows over her pale skin.
The glow from the screen lit up her face—refined, clean, still carrying the youthful sharpness of adolescence. It was this clean, cool temperament that had drawn Cheng Yuan in at the beginning.

It was the reason she’d always wanted to protect Wen Chuan.
That protectiveness had quickly turned into closeness.
And then… Wen Chuan had started clinging to her. Constantly.

But tonight, for the first time, Cheng Yuan could sense that something had changed.

Maybe it was something subtle. Maybe it happened while she was overseas. But whatever it was…
The look in Wen Chuan’s eyes no longer held that same affection. That same dependence.

Cheng Yuan furrowed her brows slightly but didn’t press. Instead, she smiled and said gently, “It’s getting late where you are. You must be tired after the game—go get some rest.”

“I’m about to head out for dinner with some friends too.”

She smiled, waved at the camera. “Bye, Xiao Chuan. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Wen Chuan looked up at her, dazed. She raised a hand and waved back reflexively.
“…Okay.”

She’s going to see her friends? Wen Chuan’s first instinct was to ask who.
But then… she stopped herself. They’re her friends, after all. There’s no need to worry, right?

So, she said nothing.

But deep down, her chest felt uncomfortably tight.

“See you back in China,” she said, tapping the screen to end the call.

Cheng Yuan’s face, the one Wen Chuan had been dreaming of day and night, vanished from the screen in an instant. Wen Chuan stood frozen, unable to react.

The call had ended abruptly. Cheng Yuan stared at the now-dark screen that no longer showed Wen Chuan’s face, her expression unreadable. The warmth in her eyes slowly faded.

This wasn’t the Wen Chuan she knew. The Wen Chuan she knew would always be the first to object with frustration whenever she said she was going out with friends.

And she would cling on relentlessly, begging her not to go and to spend more time with her instead.

With a blank expression, Cheng Yuan flipped through the calendar beside her, thinking it was probably time to return to China for a visit. Her sharp female intuition told her that something was going on back home—something she didn’t know, something that especially couldn’t be known by her.

Wen Chuan let out a sudden sigh of relief.

During that conversation, she had felt a faint, almost imperceptible burden. Now that it was over, she felt unexpectedly light, almost free.

As she began to walk away, wanting a moment alone to sort through her thoughts, she looked up—only to see Tan Hua cheerfully chatting with another woman, pulling out her phone as if they were exchanging contact information.

Wen Chuan exploded like a lit firecracker. She stormed over.
“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Tan Hua replied innocently, saving the contact in her phone. She looked up at Wen Chuan with wide eyes. “Just making a new friend, that’s all.”

“You have to make friends in a place like this?” Wen Chuan said coldly. “I’ve barely been gone, and you’re already openly flirting with other women behind my back!”

“Oh, come on,” Tan Hua said indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. “You told me to wait here, didn’t you? Haven’t I been sitting here obediently just like you said?”

She emphasized, “I didn’t even take a single step away.”

What more do you want from me? This is too much.

“Yes, you did sit here and didn’t leave. But your eyes were wandering, your mouth was chatting people up, and your fingers were busy saving someone else’s number!” Wen Chuan glared, her voice rising in anger.
“Tell me—what part of you was actually behaving?”

Tan Hua rubbed her nose, a flicker of guilt flashing in her eyes. She quickly changed the subject.
“Are you done now? Let’s go.”
She reached out and tugged at Wen Chuan’s arm. “There are too many bars here. The smell of alcohol is overwhelming.”

It was unpleasant. Really unpleasant. If she had to smell it any longer, she might storm in and argue with every last drunkard inside.

The fire in Wen Chuan’s chest was instantly doused by Tan Hua’s soft, almost accidental touch. She stared blankly down at the spot where Tan Hua had touched her. A pleasant, tingling sensation spread across her skin, leaving her momentarily stunned.

It was strange—subtle, but oddly delightful. Her lips curled upward before she could stop them.

After a long pause, she finally looked away from her hand and hurried to catch up.
“Where are we going now?” she asked, hopeful.

“I don’t know,” Tan Hua said honestly. She had no destination in mind—she just wanted to go back to the bar.

She’d made a big score tonight. If she didn’t go spend a little freely, it would feel like a waste.

You don’t know? Wen Chuan paused, then asked tentatively,
“Then… want to come to my place?”
She added in a quieter voice, “It’s just me at home. I feel lonely. I want you to stay with me.”

During the earlier conversation, Wen Chuan had felt an almost imperceptible weight pressing down on her. But now that it was over, she suddenly felt lighter, as if a burden had been lifted.

She took a step forward, intending to find a quiet place to be alone for a while and sort through her thoughts. But just as she lifted her gaze, she saw Tan Hua enthusiastically chatting with another woman. She even pulled out her phone—it looked like they were exchanging contact information.

Wen Chuan instantly flared up like a firecracker that had just been lit. She stormed over.
“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Tan Hua finished saving the contact, then looked up at her innocently.
“Just making a friend.”

“Do you have to make friends in a place like this?” Wen Chuan’s expression turned icy.
“I was barely gone, and you’re already openly flirting with other women behind my back?”

“Listen to yourself,” Tan Hua said, hands on her hips, clearly displeased.
“You told me to sit here and wait, and that’s exactly what I did—sat here, waiting like a good girl.”

She emphasized,
“I didn’t even move an inch.”

Isn’t that enough for you? You’re being ridiculous.

“Sure, you sat still and didn’t leave,” Wen Chuan snapped, “but your eyes wandered, your mouth chatted, and your fingers were busy adding someone else’s contact!”
“Tell me, what part of you was actually behaving?”
Her eyes were blazing—she looked like she was about to explode.

Tan Hua rubbed her nose, clearly a little guilty. She quickly changed the subject.
“You’re done now, right? Let’s go.”
She tugged gently on Wen Chuan’s arm.
“There are so many bars around here, and the smell of alcohol is awful.”

Unpleasant. Really unpleasant. If she had to smell it any longer, she might just storm in and argue with every drunk in the building all night long.

Wen Chuan’s raging fire was instantly extinguished the moment Tan Hua touched her hand—subtly, almost imperceptibly. She lowered her head, dazed, staring at the spot on her skin where Tan Hua had touched her. A tingling warmth spread across her hand, making her slightly lose her senses.

It was subtle, but strangely pleasurable. Her lips began to curl upward before she even realized it.

After quite a while, she finally pulled her gaze away from the back of her hand and quickly caught up to Tan Hua.
“So… where are we going now?” she asked with anticipation.

“I don’t know,” Tan Hua said plainly. She had no destination in mind—she just wanted to go back to the bar.

She’d made a big haul tonight. If she didn’t splurge a little to enjoy herself, it would feel wrong.

Don’t know? Wen Chuan paused, then couldn’t help suggesting,
“Then… want to come to my place?”
She added in a soft, uncertain voice,
“It’s just me at home. I feel lonely. I want you to keep me company.”

Tan Hua hadn’t responded yet, but her internal system was already screaming in excitement:
“Yes! Say yes! Host, this is a golden opportunity to level up your Wen Chuan romance route!”

Tan Hua’s ears buzzed from the noise.
“Got it, got it,” she muttered.

“Alright,” she said aloud, nodding under Wen Chuan’s intense gaze. But just as Wen Chuan was about to break into a smile, Tan Hua added:
“Anyway, your place is pretty close to the bar I stay at.”

Wen Chuan’s smile froze mid-lip.
“…”
She couldn’t even smile anymore.

Wen Chuan’s apartment was a mess. The moment she opened the door, regret hit her like a truck. Under Tan Hua’s suspicious gaze, Wen Chuan nervously curled her fingers.

“I just moved in. Haven’t had time to tidy up yet.”

Though she was tall and usually carried a strong, commanding presence, in front of Tan Hua right now, she looked like a sheepish little lamb.

Tan Hua’s eyelid twitched. She muttered to the system,
“Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.”

System:
“…Wait, what? Not that kind of work… right?”

As it was still in a daze, Tan Hua had already stepped into the apartment, changing into Wen Chuan’s house slippers. She scanned the room with a quick glance and then chose a spot on the couch to sit down.

Wen Chuan immediately set down her backpack and trophy, then poured a glass of hot water for Tan Hua.
“I’ll start tidying up right away.”

Tan Hua nodded as she accepted the water.
“Great, then I’ll just sit here and supervise. I won’t lift a finger to help.”

Under Wen Chuan’s conflicted expression, Tan Hua smiled calmly, completely self-assured.
“I’m not feeling well.”

Not feeling well? Wen Chuan frowned.
If you’re not feeling well, why were you practically charging into the bar earlier?

You seemed lively enough at the bar—bouncing around and full of energy. But now that you’re in my house, suddenly you’re unwell?

Wen Chuan stared at her, clearly annoyed. But Tan Hua remained unmoved, slowly sipping from her glass, clearly with no intention of helping.

Realizing this, Wen Chuan was a bit unhappy, but thinking about how rare it was for Tan Hua to even agree to come over and keep her company, she let it go with a sigh.

She found a Bluetooth speaker and casually played her favorite playlist.

The apartment wasn’t spacious or luxurious, but the lighting was soft and cozy, the music gentle and calming—the atmosphere felt just right. Wen Chuan sat on the carpet, sorting through her books. For a moment, she found herself thinking that this kind of life wasn’t bad at all.

She was busy with her own things, while Tan Hua sat nearby, doing hers. They didn’t disturb each other, but there was a quiet, comforting presence between them that made her heart feel inexplicably full.

At one point, she even began to feel a longing for this fleeting peace and the soft intimacy of the moment.

It felt different from how it was with Cheng Yuan. The atmosphere now stirred something in her chest—a subtle rush, as if a long-lost emotion she had yearned for was slowly beginning to bloom.

“My parents divorced when I was three,” Wen Chuan said suddenly.
“I didn’t really understand it at the time, and I don’t remember much. I just wondered why neither of them seemed to spend much time with me.”

“I was raised by a nanny. She took care of me with great care, and honestly, my emotional bond with her might have been deeper than the one I had with my parents.”

As Wen Chuan spoke, Tan Hua put down her phone and looked at her quietly, listening without interruption.

Wen Chuan paused for a moment, then continued.
“I can’t even remember the last time both of them were present—reading with me, helping me study, or just listening to me talk about the ups and downs of growing up.”

“A few years ago? Or maybe it’s been more than a decade?”

“Honestly, I don’t think that kind of memory even exists for me.”

Her voice was soft, and the air around her felt heavy. She lowered her head, the strands of hair falling over her forehead hiding her delicate eyebrows, leaving only her high-bridged nose and tightly pressed lips visible.

The mood grew somber. After a moment of thought, Tan Hua asked,
“So this is why you asked me to be your mother?”

“Because you see in me the warmth of the maternal love you never had?” she asked earnestly, though she couldn’t help but mutter inwardly—

What kind of aura did the original host have, anyway?

To think she could make an eighteen-year-old girl deprived of affection feel motherly warmth from her…

Wen Chuan’s somber mood was abruptly interrupted. She looked up, and upon seeing the puzzled frown on Tan Hua’s face, she suddenly found herself at a loss for words.

“It’s not like that,” she said awkwardly. “You were the one who came to me first, offering to be a stand-in. And at the time, I… I wasn’t in a good place emotionally, so I just…”

“So you treated me like your mother,” Tan Hua said, picking up the thread without hesitation.
“You wanted me to care for you, look after you like a real mother would.”

And to heal you.

Wen Chuan fell silent. After a long pause, she finally said,
“I’m sorry. I was wrong before.”

She shouldn’t have projected her feelings onto Tan Hua as a substitute for Sister Cheng Yuan—because they were completely different people. Sister Cheng Yuan was gentle and kind, while this Omega in front of her…

Wen Chuan looked at her, eyes full of mixed emotions. There were things she wasn’t sure she should even be thinking.

The girl’s expression was odd, but Tan Hua didn’t seem to care. She casually replied,
“Whatever. You’re paying me anyway. As long as the money’s good, I don’t care if you want me to be your mom, your grandma, or even your great-grandmother.”

“…” Wen Chuan’s temple throbbed.
Could she please stop ruining the moment like this?

“You’re not like the others,” Wen Chuan continued, still lost in her own thoughts.
“They try to break into my heart, to form a bond with me. They want a close or even intimate relationship.”

“But you don’t.”

That caught Tan Hua’s interest. She raised a brow, amused.
“You mean you know I’m only here for your money?”

Wen Chuan’s face flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. She glared at her.
Of course she knew. She wasn’t blind. She could clearly tell who genuinely cared for her and who was only after her money or something else.

Did Tan Hua really think she’d been subtle all this time?

Wen Chuan’s flustered reaction thoroughly amused Tan Hua. She burst out laughing and couldn’t stop for quite a while. After finally collecting herself, she said with a smug grin,
“Not bad.”

“At least you’re not stupid.”

Wen Chuan took a deep breath and decided to take that as a compliment.

Frustrated, she shoved a stack of books into a nearby box and finally asked the question that had been on her mind for a long time:
“Do you like Lu Huaixu?”

“You know what I mean.”

The question came out of nowhere. Tan Hua thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“No, I don’t.”

“What about Sheng Yiheng?” Wen Chuan asked again, her heartbeat speeding up. She held her breath.

“Also no.” Tan Hua leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she inched closer to Wen Chuan.
“What exactly are you trying to find out?”

“Nothing,” Wen Chuan said, pressing her lips together, though they couldn’t help curling up at the corners. Her pale face revealed a hint of nervousness, and her lips looked dry and slightly trembling.
“I’m just really happy to hear that.”

“Happy about what?” Tan Hua asked, genuinely confused.
“That I don’t like them? That I treat them the same as you—just walking ATMs I’m after for their money?”

Wen Chuan genuinely wanted to tape her mouth shut.
Couldn’t she just stay quiet and let her finish what she was trying to say?

Wen Chuan glared at her, struggling to calm herself down.

Tan Hua rubbed her nose, growing a little impatient.
“Seriously, after all that buildup, what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say…” Wen Chuan hesitated, then lifted her gaze. Her dark, luminous eyes locked onto Tan Hua’s, filled with all the vulnerability and awkwardness of a teenage girl.

“I think… I might kind of like you.”

Tan Hua, in her mind: Is this… a ghost story?

Wen Chuan, in her heart: [Nervous deer-heart beating.gif]