The Five Heartless Scumbag Alphas Turned Against Each Other Because Of Me - Chapter 58

“When did it start?” Tan Hua narrowed her eyes, her tone sounding like an interrogation.

Sheng Yiheng was so startled by the sudden and random question that she couldn’t react in time. She instinctively asked back,
“When did what start?”

“Your crush on me,” Tan Hua replied confidently, as if it were obvious.
“So when was it? Was it when you first met me? When I was still involved with Tang Yanrou? Or was it after you found out I’d been married to Zheng Jinyu?”

Tan Hua leaned in closer, almost pressing Sheng Yiheng back against the wall.
“Sheng Yiheng, I know I’m charming. It makes sense that you’d fall for me…”

“What are you even talking about?! Why would I like you?!”
Sheng Yiheng’s mind finally cleared. She immediately reached out to push Tan Hua away.

Tan Hua stumbled slightly but didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned in even more—so close it seemed like she’d fall right into Sheng Yiheng’s arms.

The Omega’s scent was faint but pleasant—subtle, not overwhelming, yet somehow comforting. It carried a soft sweetness, paired with a hint of youth and elegance. Every part of her seemed carefully put together, fragrant and delicate, like she was made of soft light and perfume.

Being this close, Sheng Yiheng could even smell the scent of her shampoo. Beneath it was a trace of camellia—and something else, something oddly familiar.

She paused and tried to remember.

Yes—that same scent was on Zheng Jinyu.

They had shaken hands earlier, after finalizing their partnership, and she’d noticed it then. It was exactly the same.

And now, both Tan Hua and Zheng Jinyu showed up at the company together, and they carried the same scent…

It was hard not to think too much.

“Why wouldn’t you like me?” Tan Hua smiled, her eyes gleaming. She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing a dainty earring.
“Am I not good enough?”

“Do I not help you with your work or career?”

“Or is it because you think I’m too ugly to be seen with you in public?”

Three questions—one after another. Sheng Yiheng was stunned into silence. She opened her mouth but struggled to respond.
“I won’t deny that you’re beautiful and capable,” she said at last, “but liking someone isn’t just about those things—”

Before she could finish, Tan Hua gently raised a finger and pressed it to Sheng Yiheng’s lips, cutting her off.

“Shh,” she said playfully.

“I get it, President Sheng,” Tan Hua said in a low voice.
“There are too many people around. Maybe someone’s listening. It’s fine if you don’t want to admit it right now.”

What nonsense are you talking about?! Sheng Yiheng nearly swore out loud.

She slapped Tan Hua’s hand away and frowned in irritation.
“Are you done messing around? Is your workload too light lately, or are you just looking for trouble?”

Tan Hua paused for a second, then shamelessly said, “they say if someone scolds you, they care about you. If they hit you, it means they love you.”

She chuckled softly and finally backed away.

“I’ll wait for you,” she added mysteriously, then straightened her expression, smiled mischievously, and walked out of Sheng Yiheng’s office.

She left Sheng Yiheng sitting alone in her chair—stunned and speechless.

After a long while, Sheng Yiheng finally let out a deep breath.

She really is shameless.

Everything Tan Hua had said earlier was absurd—completely made up, twisted, and totally off the rails.

Her temples throbbed in frustration. Sheng Yiheng pressed her fingers to her aching head. Originally, she had just wanted to get some insight into what was really going on between Tan Hua and Zheng Jinyu. But thanks to that unexpected and ridiculous confrontation, the opportunity was ruined.

If she had actually asked, Tan Hua definitely would have misunderstood.

So annoying.

Sheng Yiheng ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. Why is she like this? Why can’t she just be quiet?

Meanwhile, Tan Hua—having successfully stirred up Sheng Yiheng’s mood—hummed a tune and sauntered back to her own small office.

As she passed by the room next door, she noticed several people inside casting unfriendly looks her way. She glanced over with indifference, then curved her lips into a faint, unreadable smile and kept walking.

To the people inside, that little smile looked like smug arrogance—like she thought she was above them.

Someone was the first to scoff.
“What’s she acting so high and mighty for? She’s just a pretty face. Who does she think she is?”

“She’s not exactly useless though,” someone else said, trying to be fair.
“Didn’t she sign a new contract with President Sheng the other day? She’s not just a regular assistant anymore.”

“Yeah, I heard from the sales department that she’s landed several big deals recently—on her own. Just the commission she earned is more than all our annual salaries combined. Even that company President Sheng’s been trying to work with for years is finally open to a partnership after her negotiation. They’re just waiting to set a date.”

“Who knows how she got those deals,” another secretary sneered.
“She probably used her looks. That’s her specialty, isn’t it? Trading her body to get whatever she wants.”

“Huahua,” the most senior secretary in the room spoke up, her tone firm,
“You shouldn’t slander a coworker. Don’t dismiss someone’s hard work or try to drive a wedge between us.”

“What, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” Huahua snapped as she stood up and kicked her chair back hard.
“Don’t pretend you’re all innocent. I bet some of you have been spreading rumors behind her back even more than I have.”

The room fell silent for a moment before people began trying to comfort the secretary who’d spoken up.

She smiled and shook her head slightly, saying nothing more—but the way she looked at Huahua’s retreating figure gradually turned cold.

Meanwhile, thanks to the system’s real-time feed, Tan Hua had just finished enjoying the drama like a front-row spectator.

She already knew someone next door didn’t like her. She just hadn’t expected them to show their teeth so soon.
“I thought they’d hide it a little longer,” she said, leaning her chin on one hand as she opened a livestream on her phone.
“I’m just a worker. Why are they so focused on me?”

“If they have any anger or frustration, they should take it up with Sheng Yiheng.”

“Coming after me won’t get them anywhere.”

She shook her head.
“Kick me out, and there’ll be another Tan Hua right behind me. Probably a second, a third… too many to count. But if they manage to make Sheng Yiheng submit, then even the female lead herself would have to put up with them.”

“Wait,” the system interrupted, surprised,
“Host, how did you know that in the original story, the female lead suffered a lot because of them?”

Tan Hua: “…”
Thanks a lot. I didn’t know—until now.

The system started rambling.
“Actually, several of those secretaries liked Sheng Yiheng. They saw her as a potential marriage partner. They all come from decent families, and they’re attractive and capable. With Sheng Yiheng’s low salary, no rational person would agree to work for her long-term—unless they had other motives.”

“They’ve stayed at Shengyuan for years. Who’d believe there wasn’t something more to it?”

“And when the female lead came back and started spending more time with Sheng Yiheng, they couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t do anything to her directly—her background’s too strong—but they whispered in Sheng Yiheng’s ear, sowing doubt. Eventually, it made Sheng Yiheng start to misunderstand the female lead.”

“With how cliché old-school melodramas go, the female lead never knows how to speak up for herself,” the system continued. “So the misunderstandings between her and Sheng Yiheng just keep piling up. The more they grow, the more their relationship spirals—until everything completely falls apart. By then, everyone’s dancing dangerously on the edge of legality and morality.”

In other words, those secretaries next door were the true catalysts behind the breakdown between Sheng Yiheng and the female lead. They were the real reason she suffered both physically and emotionally in the original plot.

“So after saying all this, what exactly are you trying to get at?” Tan Hua asked, pretending not to understand.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the system laughed slyly.
“I want you to use your talents to drive away the very people who made the female lead’s life miserable. And once you help her avoid all that pain, you won’t have to worry about facing punishment either.”

Tan Hua went quiet.
“Thanks for the suggestion, but I actually like a good dose of painful romance.”

“If I’m getting dragged through the emotional mud, it’s somehow more thrilling to have someone suffer right along with me.”

System: “??” Are you serious?

What kind of messed-up logic is that?!

For a long moment, the system was speechless. It sputtered, trying to form a retort—but in the end, it was so mentally exhausted it just rage-quit and went silent.

Satisfied with having made the system disappear in frustration, Tan Hua happily turned her attention back to a livestream. After all, there wasn’t much else to do during boring work hours.

Meanwhile, Sheng Yiheng was still fuming. Her temples pulsed with pain like a buzzing beehive.

Tan Hua’s nonsense is getting more and more outrageous.
She had practically exploded with anger but had no way to let it out. How could anyone possibly think I have a crush on her?!

Lies. All of it. Shameless lies.
Sheng Yiheng kept a straight face, but her thoughts were in complete chaos.

Tan Hua’s the type who flirts with anyone who breathes.

If this were the past, someone like her would’ve been thrown into a pig cage by superstitious villagers. With the way she carried herself—so bold and provocative—she would’ve been labeled a homewrecker long ago.

So, me, having a crush on her? No way.

Sheng Yiheng shook her head furiously in her mind. Impossible.

Even when Tan Hua had gotten close to Tang Yanrou, she’d only been worried that Tang might poach her. After all, Tan Hua was currently under a signed contract—as a stand-in for Cheng Yuan—with official terms and proper compensation. So legally speaking, she belonged to Sheng Yiheng.

And unless she gave permission, no one else was allowed to interfere.

Alphas had strong territorial instincts. That possessiveness often showed itself in the tiniest aspects of daily life.

Then, suddenly, Sheng Yiheng had a moment of clarity. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling so unsettled these past few days—first with Tang Yanrou, then with Zheng Jinyu.

Because deep down, she already considered Tan Hua as “hers.”

That would explain the occasional irrational reactions and confusing emotions.

Realizing this, she let out a long breath.
Okay. Maybe my behavior really has been confusing. No wonder Tan Hua thought I liked her.

Now that she had sorted through her thoughts, Sheng Yiheng picked up her phone and sent Tan Hua a message:

“You misunderstood. Because of our contract, I subconsciously saw you as someone who belonged to me.”

She reread the message and frowned slightly. Something about it didn’t sit right.

She hesitated for a moment, then added another:

“Aside from seeing you as her stand-in, I don’t have any other feelings for you. So please don’t overthink things.”

After sending it, she paused again.
Was that too harsh?

Would an Omega’s pride be hurt by that kind of blunt rejection?

Omegas were delicate by nature—like glass you had to handle with care. If she made Tan Hua cry and the girl ran off to work for someone else out of spite, it could damage the company’s entire performance.

She hesitated again, then typed up a softer follow-up:

“I just want to make it clear that I don’t have any romantic intentions toward you. I hope we can keep things professional and maintain a normal working relationship—no more of that talk that could lead to misunderstandings.”

Normal, she said.
But were things ever normal between them?

Sheng Yiheng froze. Weren’t things even more ambiguous back then?

Frustrated, she held her breath and slammed her thumb down on the message thread, recalling every message she had just sent.

The more I try to explain, the worse it sounds.

Better to say nothing at all than give Tan Hua more material to overanalyze and twist into some kind of “bashful confession.”

At this point, Sheng Yiheng felt like no matter what she did, even jumping into the Yellow River wouldn’t wash the guilt away.

Tan Hua, meanwhile, saw a WeChat notification pop up at the top of her phone screen. But since she had message previews hidden, she had no idea who it was from—or what it said.

There was no way it could be from Sheng Yiheng.

With such a short distance between their offices, if she really had something urgent to say, she would have just come straight to find Tan Hua in person—not bothered with texting.

So, unhurried and relaxed, Tan Hua waited for the livestream host to finish dancing. She casually sent a small gift to the streamer before finally switching over to WeChat.

Oh?
It was from Sheng Yiheng after all.

But what greeted her was not a message—just three notifications in a row that said: “The other person has recalled a message.”

Tan Hua blinked in confusion, full of question marks.

She couldn’t help typing back:
“President Sheng, were you just confessing to me?”

Sheng Yiheng replied instantly:
“……”

Tan Hua continued, sounding mildly disappointed:
“But I didn’t even get to see it. Why’d you take it back? Come on, just send it again?”

Sheng Yiheng’s eyelid twitched violently. Then, just as she saw the “Typing…” indicator appear at the top of the chat window, another message popped up:

“Never mind. I already understand how you feel.”

“I just didn’t expect that someone who looks like a cold and ruthless femme fatale would actually be so shy and flustered.”

“But it’s fine. I won’t hold it against you.”
Then Tan Hua added a cheeky, greasy emoji.
“Actually, President Sheng… you being this way just makes me like you more.”

She tapped her foot, grinning. Wow, Sheng Yiheng is really good at this. Playing hard to get like a pro—she’s got me hooked.

A seductive queen like her? Eternal legend.

Just as Tan Hua was happily overanalyzing the situation for the hundredth time, she noticed that Sheng Yiheng still hadn’t replied.

So she sent another emoji—only to be hit with a system notification:

“Message sent but rejected by recipient.”

Tan Hua: “…”

But she quickly brushed it off and said breezily to the system,
“I get it. She’s embarrassed because I saw through her feelings.”

The system fell completely silent.
If I had even half your confidence, I’d have overthrown the main system and declared myself ruler of all AI.

Meanwhile, over in her office, Sheng Yiheng expressionlessly blocked Tan Hua—only then did she finally feel a little better.

Seriously, where did she learn all that ridiculous nonsense? It’s unbearable…

She couldn’t even find a word to describe how annoying it all was.

Shaking off the irritation, she refocused. She made a quick call and asked someone to finalize the contract details for her collaboration with Zheng Jinyu.

Then her thoughts looped right back to where they always seemed to land—Tan Hua.

Sheng Yiheng stared blankly at her phone screen for a while before finally dialing.

“When is Tang Yanrou’s schedule confirmed?” she asked.

Tan Hua glanced at her phone screen and smiled smugly.
“I knew she couldn’t resist reaching out.”
Then she answered, sounding casual,
“Not yet.”

“Follow up,” Sheng Yiheng instructed.
“Let me know once you have a firm answer.”

With that, she hung up without another word.

The system stared at Tan Hua, eager to see how she would twist this one.

Sure enough, Tan Hua flashed an arrogant, wicked smile and said confidently,
“She’s clearly shy.”

“She can’t even talk to me properly anymore—her heart must be racing just from hearing my voice.”

System: “…”
Please. Could you tone it down? You haven’t even been reading any CEO romance novels lately—so where is this delusion coming from? Why are you suddenly playing the overbearing president role yourself?!

Tan Hua eventually got back to work and reached out to Tang Yanrou’s team. Not long after, she received a confirmed schedule.

Once the business matters were settled, Tang Yanrou hesitated for a moment before asking,
“Miss Tan… have you made any progress looking into your background?”

She sounded unsure and quickly added,
“Would you like my help with it?”

Afraid Tan Hua might misunderstand her intentions, Tang Yanrou rushed to explain,
“I don’t mean anything else by it. I just want to help in any small way I can.”

A soft, low voice came through the phone.

“I want to help you,” said the Alpha.

Tang Yanrou couldn’t bear to see Tan Hua suffering like this—trapped in a cold, lonely world without light, without support, with no one offering her a shoulder or a sliver of warmth.

To her, Tan Hua was like a drenched kitten caught in a thunderstorm—struggling in rushing water at the edge of the road, trying desperately to climb up to safety.

Tang Yanrou had long understood how harsh the world could be. She’d seen all kinds of pain. But even so, she couldn’t bring herself to stand by and do nothing—not in the face of someone like Tan Hua, someone with dignity, kindness, and a strong spirit.

She didn’t have the kind of power to change the world. The most she could offer was to help reunite Tan Hua with her real family—to give her a chance to truly feel what warmth and belonging meant.

That was why, after so much internal struggle, she finally gathered the courage to ask that question.

The sudden mention of her background caught Tan Hua off guard. She was stunned for a moment and didn’t react right away.

Then she came back to herself and gave a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“There’s no need for that.”

Tang Yanrou’s heart sank. A quiet sadness welled up inside her.

She turned me down… but why?
Was I too abrupt? Or maybe… she doesn’t care about me as much as I thought?
Or perhaps their relationship simply hasn’t reached a point where she can comfortably accept help from me?

Her thoughts were a tangled mess.

“The world’s a big place,” Tan Hua said with a bitter smile.
“How could I possibly find my real parents in this endless sea of people?”

“Besides, all this about my background… it’s just a guess. A hunch. I don’t even know if I’m really not my current parents’ biological child.”

She let out a faint, hollow laugh.
“What if it turns out I really am their daughter? Then I’m still just the child of a gambler and a drunk.”

“What’s the point in digging all that up?”

“If the truth is ugly, then chasing it down just throws me back into that same, dark, hopeless place I’ve been trying to escape.”

Tang Yanrou immediately realized what she meant. She pressed her lips together and forced a smile.

“Alright,” she said gently.
“If you really don’t want my help, I won’t interfere.”

“But no matter what the truth is, Miss Tan, please don’t stop believing in yourself. You’ve always deserved something better.”

Someone like Sheng Yiheng—so cold and fickle—doesn’t deserve you, she thought silently.
Someone who carries another woman in her heart will never be able to give you all of hers.

All her affection, her attention—they’ve only ever leaned toward Cheng Yuan.

Cheng Yuan might still be gone for now. And Sheng Yiheng might be gentle and obedient with Tan Hua right now.

But once Cheng Yuan returns… will Sheng Yiheng even remember Tan Hua at all?

Tang Yanrou felt a weight in her chest. She wanted to help. She wanted to do something—but she could only watch from the sidelines, powerless.

In the end, all she could say was:

“You’re incredibly capable. My door is always open to you.”

“If one day you’re unhappy, hurt, or just have nowhere else to go… you’ll always be welcome here.”

Tan Hua chuckled softly.
“Miss Tang, you’re being a little too good to me,” she said teasingly.
“Why? Do you like me that much?”

Those two words—“like me”—were so bold and direct that Tang Yanrou’s heart skipped a beat. Her throat went dry.

She hesitated for a long moment, torn between denying it and admitting it… before finally whispering:

“…Yes.”

“You’re different from them,” she said, barely audible.
“You’re special. Pure. Good. And I like you for it.”

“Someone like you shouldn’t have to lower herself and be toyed with by Sheng Yiheng.”

Once the words started, she couldn’t stop. Her courage slowly grew, and her voice grew warmer, more intense.

“She’s nothing but a cold, dishonest woman.”

“Your love… to her, it’s no more valuable than a weed by the roadside.”

But before she could finish that thought, she heard another voice—one that instantly made her fall silent.

“Who’re you on the phone with? It’s been forever.”
It was Sheng Yiheng.

Then the sound of the phone being muffled—someone covering the receiver—and a faint voice in the background:
“Miss Tang, we’re confirming the schedule.”

Sheng Yiheng wasn’t convinced.
“Does it really take half an hour to confirm something?”
She squinted and stretched her neck to peek at Tan Hua’s screen.
“Let me see.”

“No,” Tan Hua replied without hesitation.

Immediately, the call was filled with the sounds of scuffling—playful fighting, with bursts of laughter in the mix.

Tang Yanrou clenched her fingers. Her expression, usually so calm and courteous, turned quietly cold.

She stared down at Cheng Yuan’s file for a long moment.

Then, calmly but firmly, she dropped the real bomb:

“Hua Hua, Cheng Yuan’s coming back. She bought a return ticket for next week.”

Love-struck brain: Jealousy.jpg, Envy.png.