The Heartless Alpha Just Wants to Follow the Plot - Chapter 73

Qiu Fu clicked the box open. Inside sat a brand new light-computer—the latest flagship model, valued at over a million credits.

Qiu Fu’s eyes widened in disbelief. “…”

Was her luck today simply too good?

“Someone help me pick my jaw up off the floor.”

“Honestly, if I pulled this set, I could die happy right now.”

“My mom just asked me why I’m watching a livestream on my knees.”

“A literal God of Luck walked among us.”

Qiu Fu’s cheeks flushed a faint pink. It was the first time she’d realized just how favored by fortune she could be. She cleared her throat softly. “I already have a light-computer,” she told the camera. “And since this was won in a lucky draw, it wouldn’t feel right to just keep it or sell it. I’ve decided to donate it.”

“As for this necklace.”

She truly liked the piece; besides, it was a limited non-retail edition, making it difficult to simply give away. After a moment of deliberation, she continued, “I will donate an equivalent amount in Star Credits to help children on the impoverished Fringe Planets. I want to give them a bit of hope, and I hope my good luck can bring happiness to everyone else, too.”

“Thank you, everyone. I won’t be opening the rest of the boxes tonight. I need to head home. Goodnight.”

Amidst a sea of reluctant farewells, Qiu Fu ended the stream.

She was a woman of her word. She immediately made a verified donation of 1.5 million credits, and Raya handled the logistics of donating the light-computer to a public welfare organization.

As Raya stowed the device and started the flyer, she glanced at Qiu Fu. “You’re still carrying debt, you know. You finally saved up a bit of a cushion, and now you’ve given it all away for the sake of a necklace. Was it worth it?”

“It’s not about whether it’s ‘worth it’,” Qiu Fu replied simply. “As long as it makes me happy.”

Seeing that Qiu Fu truly harbored no regrets, Raya fell silent. After dropping her off at the hotel, Raya checked into the room next door. They had booked the rooms in advance as a precaution, though they hadn’t expected to actually need them. And then.

“What a coincidence.”

Seeing Pu Ying appear in the hotel hallway, Qiu Fu found herself at a loss for words. An awkward silence stretched between them. Logically, as her manager, they should have been close, but Qiu Fu always felt a certain tension around Pu Ying—a sense of restraint that made it hard to strike up a conversation.

“I was looking for you,” Pu Ying said. “Since we’ve run into each other, let’s talk.”

“Oh. Okay,” Qiu Fu managed.

Qiu Fu opened her door. Raya, seeing it was Pu Ying, didn’t pry and headed to her own room. Pu Ying stepped into her own suite briefly, returning with two glasses and a bottle of red wine.

Qiu Fu blinked. “?”

She’s in a festive mood? “I don’t really drink. I’m not very good at it.”

Pu Ying rinsed the glasses and poured the already-decanted wine. “It’s New Year’s; you can have a little. You’re heading back to the set in a few days, and after that, you won’t have any freedom for a long time.”

It was the first time Qiu Fu had seen Pu Ying so approachable in private. Flattered and slightly overwhelmed, she took the glass. Soon, a waiter arrived with two plates of dumplings.

“You can’t have wine without a proper meal,” Pu Ying noted. “Eating steak feels wrong tonight, so dumplings it is.”

Qiu Fu felt a sense of vertigo. Was Pu Ying really this down-to-earth? She had always imagined the woman as someone who wouldn’t touch something as “common” as a plate of dumplings.

“Is it strange?”

Pu Ying expertly picked up a plump, white dumpling with her chopsticks and bit off half of it in one go. Then, she sat down unceremoniously on the carpet by the window, discarding her polished image entirely.

Qiu Fu followed suit, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She nodded. “It is different.” She lowered her voice. “I never imagined sitting on the floor eating dumplings with you. Every scenario I imagined for us involved some exquisite, understated restaurant.”

Pu Ying brushed back her ear-length hair, her expression neutral. “It’s an act.”

“Su Mo has no use for useless people,” Pu Ying said tonelessly. “To stand by her side, I had to turn myself into a machine—emotionless, driven only by profit.”

Only then did Qiu Fu realize how much Pu Ying had sacrificed for Su Mo, and how hard she had worked. Yet, even a Pu Ying like this had never truly captured Su Mo’s heart.

“You gave up your true self for her, was it worth it?” Qiu Fu toyed with a dumpling with her chopsticks, her voice tinged with confusion.

“It was.”

Qiu Fu: “?”

Pu Ying’s expression remained calm. Even in front of a romantic rival, she was the formidable Pu Ying—unshakeable.

“If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. People say I gave up myself for her, but it’s more accurate to say I moved forward, step by step, just to chase her shadow.”

“She is the streetlight that stands forever at the front of my life. She illuminates the path ahead and clarifies my goals. She makes me realize that no matter how many traps lie ahead or how rugged the road becomes, she will always be walking ahead of me. I just have to look up at her.”

Seeing the bewilderment in Qiu Fu’s eyes, Pu Ying pursed her lips. “You might not understand, but I have never felt that what I did was in vain.”

“Because of her, I exist. Because of her, I became the person I am.”

Even if Su Mo had used her, even if Su Mo had kept her at arm’s length, Pu Ying felt no resentment. She was willing. She had volunteered to become the sharpest blade in Su Mo’s arsenal.

“I don’t quite understand that kind of love,” Qiu Fu admitted.

“Because you’ve never been through what I have,” Pu Ying replied. “Actually, I used to be just like you.”

Sometimes, Pu Ying couldn’t help but wonder: if she had been just a little more careful back then, or if she had gone to find Su Mo immediately, perhaps Su Mo, out of pity for their years of companionship would have chosen to save her.

But in the end, everything was a hollow wish.

Qiu Fu didn’t know what Pu Ying meant by being “just like her,” but her intuition told her that the woman had a story, one buried so deep it had likely calcified into a scar.

Perhaps it was because Pu Ying had finally given up hope this year, or perhaps the wine tonight was too intoxicating. Or maybe, after standing guard for so many years, she was simply exhausted and needed someone to listen.

Finally, the past she had kept sealed away for so long began to unfold slowly through her words.

“I was young when I first started as a manager in the entertainment industry. I knew nothing,” Pu Ying’s voice carried a trace of melancholy. “Even though I had talent and the Old Master was backing me, I still didn’t know how to navigate the social minefields.”

“I was only sixteen then. Under the Old Master’s support, I worked harder than anyone. At eighteen, I presented as an Omega.”

Qiu Fu, who had been feeling a bit lightheaded from the wine, was suddenly jolted awake. “?”

An Omega?

But hadn’t Pu Ying always claimed to be a Beta? She never emitted the scent of pheromones, and she never seemed to experience a heat cycle. How was that possible?

“But you.” Qiu Fu gripped her glass, wanting to ask but fearing the answer.

Pu Ying gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You want to ask why I don’t have heat cycles, right?”

Qiu Fu hesitated, then nodded honestly. “Yes.”

“Because I am a ‘broken’ Omega. I no longer possess the biological requirements for a heat.”

At the mention of this, Pu Ying’s entire body trembled. She set down her chopsticks, the corners of her eyes flushing red. “The year I presented, a rival drugged me.”

Qiu Fu’s breath hitched, her mind going blank as the blood rushed to her head. A terrifying thought flashed through her mind: “Was it Trefoil?”

“Exactly. I, too, was poisoned by Trefoil.”

Pu Ying’s smile was bitter. As an Omega, being dosed with the Trefoil agent meant facing a horrific ultimatum: either become a disabled Omega or find a random Alpha to mark her permanently.

Back then, she wasn’t the powerful woman she was now. The Old Master had been away investigating an incident at a mining planet. Su Mo was still a student and wasn’t allowed to touch family business, so she hadn’t been told.

Pu Ying had been left helpless, dumped by her rivals in a slum teeming with low-level Alphas. She would never forget the way they looked at her like starving wolves finally spotting a choice piece of lamb. They didn’t see her as a human being.

Before they could swarm her, she felt around and found a jagged piece of scrap metal. After calling the police with the last of her strength, she chose to destroy her own gland.

An Omega’s gland is incredibly sensitive; even being marked is an experience that makes them tremble. Her strike was violent and desperate; she nearly died on the spot.

Despite the damage, the pheromones released by her heat still drove the Alphas into a frenzy. They tore at her clothes like madmen. Between the blood, the agony of her ruptured gland, and the searing fever of the heat, she had no strength left to resist.

Fortunately, the mechanical police patrol arrived quickly. At the final moment, they rushed her to the hospital and activated a pheromone shield.

“I was saved, but my gland was beyond repair. Combined with the side effects of Trefoil, I had to have the gland surgically removed. I had held out for too long; the drug ravaged my body, causing irreversible damage to my internal organs. Without a gland, I can no longer have heats, nor can I provide the soothing comfort Alphas need. And because of the damage to my reproductive system, I can never get pregnant.”

Even years later, Pu Ying could not let go. She remembered every detail. It was why she forced herself to become powerful, so powerful that no one would ever be able to lay a hand on her again.

When the Old Master returned and learned the truth, he had been livid. However, Pu Ying begged the hospital to hide the fact that she was an Omega. They reported only that she had been drugged, resulting in permanent, irreversible physical damage.

The Old Master struck back ruthlessly, punishing everyone who had bullied Pu Ying in his absence. He utterly crushed the rival company, leaving them buried in debt and destined for a life of squalor. In their darkest hour, he made them taste the horror of Trefoil themselves, stripping them of every ounce of dignity.

But even that couldn’t erase the shadow in Pu Ying’s heart.

During that time, Pu Ying was terrified of any Alpha. The Old Master took her back to the family estate to recover under proper care. And that was when she met Su Mo.

A person as proud and radiant as the sun.

Pu Ying had always hated the sunlight, yet she found Su Mo incredibly warm.

Su Mo was arrogant beyond measure, possessing a confidence that was second to none. Yet, that same Su Mo, upon learning what had happened, would silently bring her milk and snacks after school. Every night, when Pu Ying was in so much pain from her damaged gland that she couldn’t breathe, Su Mo would quietly prepare warm water and clumsily learn how to wipe away her cold sweat.

When Pu Ying bit her own lip until it bled from the pain, Su Mo would reach out, pinch her jaw open, and shove her own hand in for Pu Ying to bite instead. She even learned songs just for her, standing outside Pu Ying’s door in the middle of the night to sing when she knew she was too sad to sleep.

In that clumsy, high-handed attempt at comfort, Su Mo had given her an infinite sense of solace during her darkest days.