The Heartless Alpha Just Wants to Follow the Plot - Chapter 15

Although Su Mo performed remarkably well later on—an unexpected surprise—it was only that one time. The director couldn’t tell whether she had simply exceeded her own limits in a burst of inspiration, or if it had been a fluke.

He didn’t dare gamble on it. All he could do was pray she would be self-aware enough to just show her face on camera and let someone else handle everything else.

Thinking back to the earlier chaos surrounding this production, the director’s head throbbed. Why, why had he lost his mind and chosen Su Mo as one of the female leads just because of the investment backing?

But now that things had come this far, he couldn’t replace her—even if he wanted to—and he didn’t dare to. All he could do was grit his teeth and push through.

Unfortunately, Su Mo didn’t understand the director’s painstaking efforts at all. Instead, she insisted with complete confidence that she could do it.

The director forced a dry laugh. “Hah, haha. Good. As long as you’re feeling well.”

“Just relax—perform like you usually do.”

Su Mo, who was secretly trying to adjust her image: “Okay.”

The rest of her scenes turned out passable. Nothing like her disastrous early performances, but nowhere near the explosive brilliance of that one moment either. Even so, the director was so relieved he nearly cried.

She was normal again. Truly, blessedly normal.

During the final wrap-up scene, Ye Vet stood before Mavis, golden hair fluttering in the wind. Her expression was strained and conflicted.

“Mavis, I can’t leave with you.”

Mavis, played by Si Yu, looked at her with a sorrow she couldn’t suppress. “So, in the end, you still choose the Empire?”

“Even though this Empire has brought you no joy—only pain?”

Ye Vet’s hand tightened around the sword at her waist, fingers brushing the hilt with resolute calm. “Yes.”

“I was born in this nation. I will defend this nation. Even if it costs my life, I will stay. I will give everything to her, without regret.”

Yet despite her conviction, the way she looked at Mavis carried a lingering tenderness—love and reluctance she could not sever. But between personal affection and her devotion to her homeland, she chose the Empire she had vowed her life to.

“I’m sorry, Mavis.”

Three simple words—and Mavis fully understood her resolve. She drew in a deep breath, forcing back the tears brimming in her eyes.

With a gesture, one of her subordinates stepped forward carrying a child.

Mavis lowered her gaze, looking at the child with gentle affection. This was their child—the living proof of her and Ye Vet’s love.

She pressed a soft kiss to the child’s forehead, then handed her to Ye Vet.

The child would be better off with Ye Vet —she had the power to protect her, the strength to raise her, and the Empire would acknowledge her identity.

If Mavis took the child, she couldn’t offer a stable home or proper education. Wandering through an endless universe was far too dangerous for a newborn.

Ye Vet took the child stiffly, at a loss, staring at Mavis in silence.

Mavis stroked the baby’s cheek one last time. Her voice grew solemn and unwavering:

“You must protect her with everything you have. If you fail, I will return, kill you, and take her back.”

She herself could wander. Her child could not. She wanted her daughter to grow up safe, ordinary, joyful—just like any other child in the Empire.

The final shot closed on Ye Vet holding the child as she watched Mavis and her men depart aboard a spacecraft. Ye Vet stared for a long, long time. In her arms, the baby began to wail, sensing her mother’s departure.

“Good, cut!”

The director practically vibrated with excitement. Perfect. It was over. Filming had ended safely. Next time, no matter how much investment Su Mo came with, he would never take another project involving her. She was pure torture.

Thank goodness Su Mo finally got into the right mindset toward the end—otherwise he would have cried his eyes out editing her scenes.

Thinking of this, he collapsed onto the assistant director’s shoulder, bawling uncontrollably. The assistant director completely understood. He wanted to cry too.

It had been so hard. Too hard.

Su Mo watched them, the corner of her mouth twitching. Yes, the directors had truly suffered.

At the wrap party, the director got so drunk he was clinging to a bottle, sobbing and wailing. Even drunk, he still had enough sense not to drunkenly spill any forbidden secrets. He just kept clinging to the assistant director, snotty and teary, pitiful like a child.

The assistant director was sweating bullets watching him, but thankfully nothing dangerous slipped from his mouth. He only complained about suffering, hardship, exhaustion—over and over.

To prevent him from eventually blurting something catastrophic, the assistant director dragged him out early. The bill had already been paid—painfully—while the director lamented his thinning wallet.

Everyone knew this drama was bound to flop. The director wasn’t making much profit at all.

The assistant director didn’t care. He paid, hauled the man away, and left.

Only the cast remained. They exchanged awkward smiles and each toasted Su Mo. No one dared encourage her to drink—they feared she might cause chaos if she got drunk.

Only Si Yu, seated beside her, lifted her glass toward Su Mo. She had already had several, her cheeks tinged with rosy drunken color, her gaze on Su Mo carrying a subtle, unreadable emotion. Her voice was softer and gentler than it ever was on set.

“I never got the chance to properly thank you before. So, I’ll use this wrap party to do it now.”

Su Mo raised her glass toward her. Si Yu’s cheeks were flushed, her smile as fresh and bright as a blooming lily—pure, delicate, tinged with girlish sweetness.

She leaned in, letting their glasses meet with a clear, crisp chime.

Si Yu swept her long hair aside, her voice airy with the warmth of alcohol.

“The earlier misunderstandings—I stopped caring about them a long time ago. It was wrong of me to suppress your performance during filming. I was petty—don’t take it to heart. I just couldn’t stand watching you waste your talent and a good script. But you did well later. Barely acceptable, at least.”

Su Mo responded softly. She understood Si Yu well. Si Yu was the type to sacrifice anything for a good script, even if it meant taking a minor role with only a few lines. Watching someone squander talent and material—she couldn’t help feeling frustrated.

Though she definitely held some vindictive feelings early on, later she genuinely wanted to knock some sense into the original Su Mo, who had been stuck in her own delusions.

“Su Mo.”

Si Yu’s eyes were bright, and something different flickered quietly in their depths. Yet the moment Su Mo turned her head toward her, Si Yu quickly hid it away. No one noticed—except Si Yu herself.

Su Mo downed the last of her drink in one go, slightly puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

Si Yu pressed her slightly dry lips together. “Do you think we might get to work together again someday?”

The artists sitting at the same table all fell silent. Their jaws nearly hit the floor. No one could believe Si Yu was the one who initiated this question.

It was more shocking than seeing a ghost.

Su Mo stared at her in surprise. She never expected Si Yu would want to collaborate with her again. Strange—other actors and directors practically sprinted away the moment they saw her, yet Si Yu wanted more opportunities to work with her.

She paused, unsure how to answer.

If she said no—who could be certain? The future was unpredictable.

But if she said yes—that sounded too definite. Her schedule was open; she had no fixed plans. And if she ever grew tired of acting, she could always go home and inherit the family business. Plenty of paths lay ahead for the sake of the storyline.

Truthfully, the moment Si Yu uttered the question, she regretted it. Why would she say something like that to Su Mo? Wasn’t she just making things awkward for both of them?

Su Mo lowered her gaze, looking thoughtful but not responding. Si Yu’s heart sank. The alcohol in her system seemed to fade with her disappointment. She hastily tried to fix things. “I just mean, you saved me. And if we ever get the chance to work together again, I’m sure your acting will continue to surprise me.”

Su Mo understood what she meant—Si Yu had clearly noticed how quickly her acting had improved.

After thinking for a moment, Su Mo said, “Maybe there will be a chance in the future.”

It wasn’t a firm promise, but coming from Su Mo, it meant she was at least willing to consider it.

Si Yu quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, Su Mo didn’t misunderstand. If she had, that almost-confession-like moment earlier would’ve been disastrous.

“I hope you go far, rise higher, and find smooth sailing ahead.”

Si Yu lifted her glass to her, then drained it in one gulp.

Su Mo: “…”

“Same to you.”

Someone had already refilled Su Mo’s glass. Meeting Si Yu’s sparkling eyes, she also downed her drink. Though it wasn’t strong—only ten percent fruit wine, sweet and gentle—drinking too quickly or having a low tolerance would still get someone drunk.

Seeing Su Mo drink as well, Si Yu’s eyes curved into a soft smile. She stared at Su Mo, dazed, her gaze filled only with Su Mo’s reflection.

Su Mo saw her expression and remembered that, in the original plot, Si Yu was supposed to be one of her lovers. She cleared her throat and turned her gaze away.

Si Yu’s fingers hovered loosely over the table as she reached to pour herself another drink. She sipped slowly, unhurriedly.

Watching the blush spread across Si Yu’s cheeks—already creeping down her neck—Su Mo frowned and snatched the glass from her. Her voice lowered. “You’re drunk.”

Si Yu shook her head, words surprisingly clear. “No, I can still drink.”

“And besides.”

Her voice softened into a mumble. “Aren’t you here?”

Su Mo: “…”

A tingling numbness spread through Su Mo’s limbs—the wine she’d just had was beginning to hit.

Her vision grew slightly unfocused. “You really shouldn’t trust me that much.”

Si Yu chuckled. The faint scent of alcohol and her gently flushed face gave her voice a weightless, teasing lilt. “What, are you saying you’d do something to me?”

Su Mo shook her head immediately. “No.”

Si Yu lowered her gaze and emptied her glass in one go. “Then what’s there to worry about?”

“Uh.”

Sure, but wasn’t this a bit too bold—counting on her goodwill like this?

Feeling annoyed, Su Mo leaned closer and tried to scare her. “And what if I suddenly stop wanting to be a good person?”

Si Yu’s eyes turned languidly seductive. “Then what is it you want to do to me?”

Su Mo’s heart skipped—she was certain Si Yu was saying something absolutely indecent.

“Ding-dong.”

The sudden ringtone shattered the fragile, rising tension. Su Mo immediately straightened up and forced herself to look proper.

The people around them, deprived of their show, were visibly disappointed. Their eyes lingered on Si Yu—everyone had assumed she was the passive type, but apparently she could be very, very proactive.