The Reborn Scummy A and the Sickly O Got Together - Chapter 38

The five-star Dingmao Hotel, with its thirty-seven floors, only used about a dozen for guest accommodations. The majority of the space was leased out to various high-end restaurants.

Since this was a small gathering hosted by the Zhang family to celebrate their eldest son’s return to the country, they had chosen this pricey, Michelin-level Chinese restaurant with a view.

The head chef boasted that his ancestors had once served as imperial chefs for Empress Dowager Cixi. However, when the waiter brought out the cold appetizers, Luo Mingyue couldn’t help but think they looked like pre-packaged, mass-produced dishes, indistinguishable from the standard fare at ordinary wedding banquets.

Zhang Zhuoran had just walked over to her, which had already surprised her. Out of politeness, she suppressed her critical thoughts: setting aside his family background, the young master Zhang’s looks were merely average. And that self-satisfied expression as he basked in everyone’s compliments made him seem like someone who wore his emotions on his sleeve.

It was hard not to find him shallow. Still, she tried to suppress her disdain, reminding herself that Zhang Zhuoran had studied abroad for years, wasn’t this just the typical cheerful, straightforward demeanor of white Americans?

Chinese culture valued restraint and humility, the Confucian ideals of moderation and self-discipline. But in today’s society, perhaps the American way being eager to showcase oneself, brimming with confidence whether capable or not was more in line with the current social climate.

So, forcing down her hostile contempt, Luo Mingyue greeted him politely: “Welcome back to the country, Mr. Zhang.”

Zhang Zhuoran, however, froze. He scrutinized her from head to toe before finally breaking into an amused grin, laughing heartily. “I know who you are. Someone introduced you to me before I came, saying Luo Mingyue is easy to recognize, she’s exceptionally beautiful.”

Luo Mingyue found both his words and tone rather foolish. She couldn’t fathom why such a remark was worth voicing.

Zhang Zhuoran added meaningfully, “Seeing you in person, I realize that wasn’t an exaggeration. But the way you speak is even more interesting. How old are you?”

Luo Mingyue replied courteously, “I just turned eighteen in April.”

Zhang Zhuoran chuckled. “This is one thing I don’t like about being back. You’re so young, yet you talk like someone from my parents’ generation.”

If he meant being polite and speaking in a measured tone without excessive emotion, Luo Mingyue thought, then sounding like his parents was still better than sounding like him.

She sighed inwardly, realizing her judgment of Zhang Zhuoran was indeed overly harsh. Yet, she couldn’t help but nitpick every little thing about him.

Fortunately, Song’an and Chuan Ping soon came running over. The siblings were practically inseparable most of the time. Earlier, they had tried mingling with their mother, but Third Miss Lu’s sharp tongue dominated the conversation, leaving Song’an and Chuan Ping, still inexperienced in social graces helplessly trailing in her wake.

Having figured out that they were no match for the duplicity of adults, Song’an grew wary when she noticed her eldest brother chatting with Luo Mingyue.

She had no idea what they were discussing, but Zhang Zhuoran seemed in high spirits, laughing boisterously, while Luo Mingyue’s smile remained flawless, as if they were having a delightful conversation.

Ever the extrovert, Song’an immediately latched onto Luo Mingyue’s arm and grinned at Zhang Zhuoran. “Big brother, what are you and Mingyue-jie talking about? You look so happy, share it with us!”

Chuan Ping and his sister stood on either side of Luo Mingyue. He glanced at her empty right arm but ultimately couldn’t bring himself to link arms with her like his sister did.

Zhang Zhuoran completely ignored his younger brother, directing an affectionate yet patronizing look at his sister, the kind one might give a pet.

His tone toward Song’an was intimate yet utterly disrespectful, dripping with condescension: “This Miss Luo seems quite pleasant. Miss Luo, what do you think of my sister?”

Luo Mingyue was momentarily stunned by Zhang Zhuoran’s blatant rudeness. It wasn’t that she couldn’t answer, she was simply taken aback by his.

The sheer undisguised stupidity made her understand what it meant to be foolish without self-awareness.

Though upon reflection, if someone could conceal their foolishness, they wouldn’t truly be a fool to begin with.

Song’an sneered internally, looking down on her elder brother while replying with playful coquetry: “How am I? Naturally I’m wonderful, right, Mingyue-jie?”

She then smiled expectantly at Luo Mingyue. Caught between the siblings’ verbal sparring, Luo Mingyue deftly deflected: “Both Brother Zhang and Song’an-mei are outstanding people. Who here wouldn’t like them?”

The overly diplomatic response that avoided personal opinion made both Zhang siblings perceive Luo Mingyue as beautiful yet devoid of personality.

Her flawless politeness crossed into excessive perfection, she seemed no different from these dull, hypocritical adults.

As the adults took their seats, Madam Zhang called her children with scolding words but affectionate tone: “Song’an, Chuan Ping, you naughty children still pestering your elders? The appetizers are served, come sit down immediately.”

Zhang Zhuoran was reduced to a nameless “older brother.” Luo Mingyue glanced at him, but he appeared unbothered. Playing the patriarch, he rescued her arm by pulling Song’an away, the siblings walking off arm-in-arm in apparent harmony.

Left walking beside Chuan Ping, he quietly asked: “You get along well with my elder brother?”

What false accusation. Luo Mingyue replied: “Your elder brother simply enjoys laughing.”

Chuan Ping asked no further, equally disdainful of both siblings. His feelings toward them were complicated.

He knew he wasn’t inferior to either, yet as an alpha and omega, they held inherent advantages.

Even if his brother wore shallowness on his sleeve and his sister was merely clever without wisdom, their secondary genders outweighed everything. As a beta, his greatest wisdom was not expecting anything from family.

The family dinner, a Chinese tradition where elders grill the younger generation became an ordeal for all present.

Even the flattered Zhang Zhuoran nearly lost composure when every young person was interrogated about academic performance like clockwork.

This revealed Feng Baiming as truly exceptional. While Zhang Zhuoran’s Ivy League credentials should have shone brightest, Feng’s admission to prestigious University A through China’s grueling Gaokao exam outshone Zhang’s well-known purchased Ivy League spot, making Zhang reluctant to discuss his own academic history.

Secondly, he didn’t think much of Luo Mingyue, considering her a conventional little alpha who, if smart, would rely on her looks to secure a wealthy omega in the future. Yet, her academic performance was surprisingly excellent.

As summer passed, she was about to become Feng Baiming’s junior. Although her college entrance exam scores weren’t as outstanding as Feng Baiming’s, they were still within the top 100 in Shangjing.

Song An added fuel to the fire, afraid that her elder brother would be overlooked. Chinese people genuinely admire studious children, though they might privately say, “So what if they’re college students? They’ll still end up working for us.”

But when someone in their own circle excels academically, they can’t help but sing their praises.

Song An said, “I remember big brother also took the college entrance exam back then. He didn’t want to at first because his overseas study applications had already been approved, with recommendation letters from several professors. Getting into G University was practically a done deal.”

Zhang Zhuoran knew Song An had more unpleasant remarks to follow and quickly interjected, “Song An barely scraped past the first-tier cutoff, it was a close call. She almost had to settle for a private university.”

Song An continued without missing a beat, “But Dad insisted he take the exam to see how much he’d learned in three years of high school.”

The crowd, eager to curry favor with the Zhang family and equally keen on watching the drama unfold, chimed in. Zhang Zhuoran’s own uncle asked, “Come to think of it, I don’t recall Zhuoran mentioning it, what score did he get that year?”

Song An would remember Zhang Zhuoran’s score for the rest of her life, but seeing her father’s displeased expression, she spared some dignity: “Big brother’s score was enough for an ordinary undergraduate program.”

With Feng Baiming and Luo Mingyue’s achievements as benchmarks, Zhang Zhuoran’s mediocre results paled in comparison. The compliments from the guests grew half-hearted, the insincerity so palpable it made Zhang Zhuoran squirm in discomfort.

Only then did he realize he might have walked into a trap. Even Luo Mingyue had her mother present, while he, unable to swallow his pride, found himself seated directly across from Feng Baiming, a deliberate arrangement, much like how Song An was placed opposite Luo Mingyue.

What infuriated him even more was the clear view he had of Luo Mingyue sitting beside Feng Baiming, acting exceedingly attentive.

Luo Mingyue hadn’t expected to be seated next to Feng Baiming either. Once seated, the hot dishes began arriving, including a signature shrimp casserole with exactly one shrimp per person.

Feng Baiming whispered to her, “You can have mine,” and transferred the shrimp from her plate to Luo Mingyue’s.

Remembering that Feng Baiming wasn’t allergic to seafood, Luo Mingyue leaned in and asked softly, “Don’t you like shrimp?”

Feng Baiming replied, “I don’t like peeling them.”

Luo Mingyue promptly put on disposable gloves. She peeled the shrimp swiftly and skillfully, presenting a perfectly intact shrimp meat in no time, then placed it back on Feng Baiming’s plate.

Feng Baiming felt awkward, but Luo Mingyue murmured, “If we keep going back and forth, we’ll draw their attention, and who knows what they’ll say next.”

Imagining the gossipy adults’ remarks, Feng Baiming silently accepted the peeled shrimp. Luo Mingyue smiled.

Her smile was tender and shy, as if she were the most out-of-place person at the gathering, simply because it was too captivating.

Watching the subtle exchange between the two across the table, Zhang Zhuoran inexplicably felt a tinge of green creeping over his head.

Having studied in America rather than learning British aristocratic manners, he immediately responded with a sarcastic tone: “Speaking of Miss Luo Mingyue being a child of the Lu family, I was wondering, why doesn’t she share the Lu surname but goes by Luo instead? Which of the Lu gentlemen is Miss Luo’s father?”

Feng Baiming frowned instantly, shooting him a glance.

Zhang Zhuoran also looked at her. Regarding her initial impression of him, Feng Baiming thought he was a stereotypical alpha so typical that everything from his height and build to his demeanor loudly proclaimed:

“I’m an alpha, and I’m proud of it.”

Consequently, her opinion of him couldn’t be high. From the moment they met, his appraising gaze flickered with brief admiration before his eagerness to please solely based on her appearance made his superficial intentions glaringly obvious.

Even his attempts at flattery carried an alpha’s arrogance. After a few compliments about her looks, he immediately assumed the role of a mentor, adopting a “listen to me, I know best” attitude.

He boldly told her, “You should be more cheerful and lively. Omegas ought to speak in a softer, cuter tone that’s how you make people like you.”

Though his manners were lacking, she maintained her composure. Yet her politeness only fueled his misunderstanding, making him oblivious to how inappropriate his lecturing was toward someone he’d just met.

Eventually, his arrogance escalated to the point where he declared:

“Miss Feng, if you were gentler, you’d undoubtedly be the most sought-after omega, adored by everyone around you.”

“Alphas are natural-born leaders, destined to guide omegas and betas.”

She could hardly tolerate it any longer, baffled by how being an alpha gave him the audacity to spout such laughable nonsense so effortlessly.

So, she retorted bluntly, “I couldn’t care less what others like.”

Later, in the crowd, she spotted Luo Mingyue, who was wearing a champagne-colored square-neck velvet dress that day. Her mood suddenly lifted, as if a haze had cleared, restoring clarity to her vision.

She thought to herself, perhaps it had been too long since she’d encountered such foolish alphas, she’d nearly forgotten how rare and precious someone like Luo Mingyue was.

Most were like Zhang Zhuoran. Even if many didn’t wear their arrogance as openly as he did, you could still catch it in their occasional glances, that ridiculous belief that being an alpha entitled them to look down on the world.

When Zhang Zhuoran suddenly brought up Luo Mingyue’s background, Feng Baiming was furious. Anger surged through her, an unfamiliar feeling, given that even when offended by him earlier, she’d only felt disdain.

She nearly sneered and said: Young Master Zhang, you should be ashamed that the only thing worth mentioning about you is your family background and even that isn’t your own merit. After all, it’s rare to meet someone like you, utterly devoid of any redeeming human qualities.

But the Third Miss Lu was quicker. Covering her mouth in exaggerated surprise, she shot him a glance and said, “Why bring up my ex-husband? Oh, he was just a wandering artist, chasing his dreams. Who knows where he is now?”

“Speaking of which, Mrs. Zhang must be so fortunate to have such a fine son, just think of all the blessings she’ll enjoy in the future!” Lu San gave Mrs. Zhang a meaningful glance.

Mrs. Zhang then asked with a smile, “Zhuoran, will you take care of me when you grow up?”

Zhang Zhuoran shot her a look. “Of course, I’ll take care of my own mother.”

Poor little Zhang, too naive to realize he’s being played like a fiddle

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