The Heartless Alpha Just Wants to Follow the Plot - Chapter 69

“Of course I’m going to leave.”

Su Mo didn’t hide it. Since the Old Master possessed memories outside of the norm, it proved he wasn’t a native of this original world either; speaking freely with him wouldn’t hurt.

“Once I complete the mission, I’ll depart. As for what becomes of this world after I’m gone, I honestly don’t know.”

“Perhaps it will reset to its original state, waiting for the next soul to arrive. Or perhaps it will keep spinning, a world continuing on without me.”

The Old Master’s breathing grew heavy, hitching as if he couldn’t bear the weight of her words. He gripped his cane tightly, taking a long moment to steady his breath.

“Why not choose to stay?”

His voice was hoarse and grating, sounding like a piece of ancient machinery forced to run without oil after years of disuse.

Su Mo lowered her eyes. “Because I would die.”

Staying meant facing an endless cycle of death.

The Old Master’s breath hitched. “…”

After a long silence, he let go of his cane and covered his face with one hand. His voice came out muffled. “Go out for now.”

“Okay.”

Su Mo stood up. Just before closing the door, she added softly, “I hope no third person ever finds out about this.”

She simply wanted to complete her mission and survive.

“Mhm.”

The only response was the click of the lock as Su Mo stepped out.

The Old Master buried his face in his palms. It felt as if his entire world had lost its center of gravity; the blow was so heavy he couldn’t even straighten his back. Su Mo was leaving, and she wouldn’t be coming back.

The reality made it hard for him to breathe. But as Su Mo said, he couldn’t force her to stay because staying meant she would die. If he wanted his granddaughter to live, he had to let her go. Yet if he didn’t keep her here, he would never see her again. Their paths would never cross again.

Regardless of the outcome, it was unbearable.

“My dear,” he whispered to the empty air, “how am I supposed to choose?”

Despite the question, he had already made his choice. He couldn’t let Su Mo die. He would use everything he had to help her leave.

Leaning heavily on his cane, he limped into a hidden inner chamber. Facing the memorial tablet in the center, he spoke in a raspy, helpless voice filled with sorrow: “In the end, I couldn’t keep her. Will you hate me for it?”

“But this way, she lives. She escapes her fate, even if it’s in another world.”

“And you, are you in another world too?”

Is it possible that after death in this world, we can reunite in another?

He let out a long sigh. He couldn’t go to her yet. He had to hold on; he had to help Su Mo finish her mission.

When Su Mo came downstairs, everyone’s eyes were fixed on her. Even Raya, who usually ignored everything but her duties, stole a few glances.

Su Mo paused. “What’s going on?”

She looked at Pu Ying, confused. Why was everyone looking at her so strangely?

Pu Ying was worried that her previous slip of the tongue might have gotten Su Mo in trouble with the patriarch. After scanning Su Mo’s face, she asked tentatively, “The Old Master didn’t say anything, did he?”

Su Mo chuckled. “No. What could he say?”

“Let’s get back to the Spring Couplets. We’ll paste them all over the main gates later to liven things up.”

She picked up the brush to continue. Qiu Fu stood nearby, looking as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how to start. She wasn’t like Pu Ying, who could express her feelings naturally; in these matters, Qiu Fu was always passive.

Su Mo glanced at her, hesitated for a second, and asked, “Do you still want to learn?”

Qiu Fu hadn’t expected Su Mo to still be willing to teach her. “Is that okay?” she asked shyly.

“Of course. Come here.”

Su Mo set down her brush and beckoned her over with one hand. When Qiu Fu approached, Su Mo instinctively pulled her into a half-embrace. Su Mo’s eyes darkened; though she had spoken with such cold conviction to her grandfather about leaving, holding Qiu Fu made her realize she wasn’t nearly as indifferent as she pretended to be.

But staying meant death.

If she left, she might spend the rest of her life alone, but at least she would be alive. She could keep these memories without being dragged through the same plot over and over in an infinite loop.

Qiu Fu’s body stiffened at the embrace, but she quickly realized Su Mo was even more tense than she was. Maybe she’s more nervous than I am, Qiu Fu thought. The idea made her relax slightly. “Shall we start?”

Su Mo snapped back to reality. “Mhm. Let’s write one more couplet.”

While writing, Su Mo’s jaw tightened. She looked calm and serious, like a ruler with absolute control over every outcome. Watching them, Pu Ying gradually ignored Qiu Fu’s presence. In her eyes, there was only Su Mo. Some people shine so brightly they naturally eclipse everyone else around them.

Qiu Fu read the lines as they were written: “Flowers bloom first by the water, unknown; snow lingers late through the winter, unseen.”

“It’s beautiful. Is this what a couplet is like?” The more Qiu Fu looked, the more she loved it—the characters, the person, and the tradition itself.

“Mhm.”

Perhaps the conversation with her grandfather had stirred up too many emotions; Su Mo’s response was a bit distracted and perfunctory. Qiu Fu was too happy to notice, but Pu Ying, whose eyes never left Su Mo, caught it immediately.

She sensed a shift in Su Mo’s attitude the moment she came back downstairs.

While Qiu Fu was admiring the scrolls, Pu Ying pulled Su Mo aside. Her brow furrowed, sensing something was wrong.

“The Old Master really didn’t say anything to you?”

Su Mo was feeling restless and didn’t really want to talk about it. To stop Pu Ying from overthinking, she simply gave a distracted nod. “Really.”

Pu Ying still looked skeptical. “You’re sure you’re not lying to me?”

Su Mo: “Truly.”

Pu Ying: “Then why do you look so somber? You’re wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

She was genuinely worried. She wanted to know what had happened to Su Mo to make her look this way.

Su Mo knew that if she didn’t come up with a legitimate excuse, she wouldn’t hear the end of it today. She let out a soft sigh and improvised a reason. “Don’t overthink it. I’ve just written too many characters today, and my wrist is a bit sore. I’m just not in the mood to talk for a moment.”

Pu Ying stood up immediately. “Fine. I’ll go get the medical regenerator.”

Even though she suspected it was an excuse, she couldn’t bear the thought of Su Mo being in pain.

Su Mo quickly pulled her back. “I just need a little rest. There’s no need for the regenerator.”

Pu Ying: “The regenerator is faster.”

Su Mo insisted: “Don’t waste the resources.”

Pu Ying looked into Su Mo’s adamant eyes and noticed the fleeting trace of guilt deep within them. She hesitated, then let go. “Alright then.”

Su Mo felt a twinge of guilt for deceiving Pu Ying, but since she couldn’t tell her the truth, she could only sit there and eat fruit.

Holding the couplets, Qiu Fu felt a surge of worry. Was she tired because I dragged her into writing with me? She suddenly felt too timid to approach.

Su Mo beckoned to her. “Come over, have some fruit and rest.”

Qiu Fu set the paper down and sat beside Su Mo, taking a bite of a peach.

“What are your thoughts on what’s next?” Su Mo asked.

“I don’t have many,” Qiu Fu admitted honestly. “My contract is with Feimu anyway. If there’s anything you want me to do, just say the word.”

Su Mo: “Actually, I do have a plan.”

Qiu Fu blinked. “What is it?”

“Earlier, Si Yu had you help snatch a role from Liu Shan. Based on your current standing, while that role is very striking, it’s still a villain. It’s easy to get typecast, which wouldn’t be good for the scripts you’ll be offered in the future.”

Su Mo was giving Qiu Fu genuine career advice regarding her future, and Qiu Fu listened with a serious expression.

“That’s true,” Qiu Fu agreed, “but I can’t just drop the role now that I’ve already promised Si Yu.”

Su Mo: “So, after playing this villain, you need to immediately take on two positive roles to neutralize the ‘villain filter’ in the audience’s mind. We need to secure these in advance. Otherwise, once the villainous role airs, directors will only consider you for similar parts.”

Qiu Fu: “Have you found the scripts?”

“Mhm.”

Su Mo produced two scripts. One featured a character as gentle as water who silently supported her lover’s career; the other was a high-spirited female general galloping across the battlefield.

“I’ve accepted the one called Remedy for you. It starts filming in mid-October next year, which should give you plenty of time to finish the project with Si Yu.”

The show Si Yu had introduced was a simple, “sweet-but-dim” wartime romance. The female supporting character, the role Qiu Fu was taking is a woman who, out of love for the Marshal, becomes jealous of the Omega who is his 100% genetic match (Si Yu’s character). Eventually, her love turns to hatred, and she attempts to use her mecha to take Si Yu down with her, only to be stopped by the Marshal and die at his hands.

It was a standard “CEO-loves-me” trope in an interstellar setting, with Qiu Fu playing the second female lead/villain.

“That there should be enough time, right?”

The movie they were currently filming would likely wrap in three months. Si Yu’s project would take four, maybe five months at most. The timing was perfect.

“As long as nothing goes wrong, everything is manageable.”

Qiu Fu asked curiously, “But what about this one, War Banner? What is it about?”

“This one.”

Su Mo handed it over, and Qiu Fu began to read.

“This was originally offered to me. But since I’m not acting much these days, I was debating whether or not to take it.”

Su Mo’s tone was casual. This script had been sent by the director she worked with on the project with Si Yu. To dare send her a script of this quality, that director was certainly a bold person. It seemed their previous collaboration had left a very good impression.

Qiu Fu read the script word for word. In her mind, an image of a character never before seen in the Interstellar Era began to take shape, a role that felt like something from the Ancient Earth Era.

She was deeply entranced by the character. She loved it.