The Reborn Scummy A and the Sickly O Got Together - Chapter 41

Reflecting on the small gathering hosted by the Zhang family afterward, Luo Mingyue realized that while the younger generation, like the Third Miss Lu, seemed to be in high spirits, and Madam Zhang appeared to be in a good mood, Zhang Zhuoran would likely face a scolding from his father when he returned home.

She thought to herself that Zhang Zhuoran was already twenty-three. At that age in her past life, she had been chastised by her grandmother for not being self-sufficient, forced to remain in the Lu family’s business as an accountant.

Luo Mingyue had taken those words to heart. By nature, she wasn’t an innovator deep down, she yearned for a simple life of three meals a day and pastoral poetry. But her desperate desire for her family’s approval had pushed her to seek alternative paths, and by sheer luck, she eventually managed to build her own career.

The first year had been grueling. Though she was a daughter of the Lu family, dressed and housed luxuriously, she had no substantial liquid funds to start a project.

So Luo Mingyue ruled out manufacturing, the risks were too high, and she lacked the initial capital. Instead, she hired a few foreign language majors and registered a small trading company, picking up minor orders that the Lu family’s main business didn’t bother with, scraping by on thin profit margins.

Barely breaking even, after months of exhausting effort, she realized she was essentially working just to pay the landlord. Her grandmother, aware of her little venture, mocked her, saying her temperament was ill-suited for business.

With the condescension of experience, her grandmother had told her, “To succeed in business, you need thick skin and cunning. You’re too meek, too honest, just stay in the family company as an accountant. At least you won’t starve, and you’ll always have food on the table.”

She had also brought up Luo Mingyue’s marriage prospects: “Don’t aim too high. Find a dependable omega who can take care of the household and children, then settle down quickly. When you go on blind dates, stop nitpicking over trivialities. If the conditions match, just agree to the engagement. You’re an adult, stop being so naive.”

Luo Mingyue had nearly given up. But then, that very month, a turning point arrived, all thanks to an order she had accepted two months prior from a company across the ocean. From the bottom up, even their finance department had failed to notice a misplaced symbol on the invoice.

A small order of 1.2 million had been mistakenly paid as 12 million. While her employees were tempted, Luo Mingyue never once considered keeping the money.

There were precedents in the industry, companies that pocketed such windfalls, declared bankruptcy, then reincorporated under a new name. With overseas transactions spanning the Pacific, lawsuits and disputes were often more trouble than they were worth, and most victims simply swallowed the loss.

But Luo Mingyue was honest. She personally contacted the other party’s manager, explained the situation, and arranged for a corrected payment and refund. She assumed that would be the end of it.

Just as she was about to shut down her unprofitable trading company, a multimillion-dollar order unexpectedly came her way. The client was a reputable firm with stable financials and stock performance, hardly the type to swindle a small business like hers. It felt more like they were handing her a golden opportunity.

She took the order with meticulous care, and that single deal ensured her company’s survival for half a year, enough to sustain them for three years without another major contract. From then on, her business flourished, riding the wave of the foreign trade boom. Only later did she learn that the CEO of the company she had refunded had spoken highly of her integrity, personally referring her for that pivotal deal.

Looking back later, she had to thank the fortunate timing. Had it been just a few days later, she would have already dismissed her employees and rented out those offices as a sub-landlord.

If the timeline began when Feng Baiming moved into the Lu family, then in the blink of an eye, half the summer had passed. Time flew like an arrow, and nearly a month had gone by, moving from June to late July.

The capital was now scorching hot, as if fire rained from the sky. The young ladies of the household had no interest in tanning, always opting for the lightest shade of foundation when buying makeup.

With summer vacation in full swing and no school to attend, they all slept in shamelessly until noon without a care.

Luo Mingyue, having lived through this once before, had learned not to torment herself. Things she didn’t want to do, people she didn’t care for, she simply wouldn’t bother with them anymore, nor would she humor those she disliked just to spare their feelings.

Gradually, she also abandoned her strict early-to-bed, early-to-rise routine. She indulged in sleeping in, staying up late into the night reading books her grandmother deemed useless.

She even tried her hand at writing, a few lines here, a short poem there, or some meaningless, melodramatic passages.

She was still waiting, biding her time, knowing that in the days to come, Lu Jia would inevitably slip up again, giving her the fatal blow she needed to ensure the woman could never recover.

Sometimes, Luo Mingyue felt she had let herself off the hook yet not entirely.

Last night, she had stayed up reading until two in the morning, the book slipping from her hand and landing on her face without her even noticing. When she opened her eyes again, it was nearly eight. Someone knocked at the door, but she was too exhausted to care, rolling over as the book tumbled off her face and onto the floor.

It was Feng Baiming, who had made it a habit to visit her daily for reading sessions. At first, Luo Mingyue had been puzzled by the young lady’s actions, but the consistency in the material Feng chose soon made her intentions clear.

Frankly, being urged not to “harm others” was almost laughable. If persuading someone to do good were that easy, the world wouldn’t be filled with so many wicked people.

So Luo Mingyue mused, how long had Feng Baiming deliberated before settling on this method, hoping to “open her closed heart” through reading?

That book, The Wisdom of the Soul, was truly ridiculous. But once she grasped the other’s well-meaning efforts, such kindness and thoughtful persistence, she wondered, what had she done to deserve such careful treatment?

Feng Baiming woke at her usual half past six. Her younger sister had once joked though quite seriously that:

“Sis, you might as well be a robot. Eleven at night to six-thirty in the morning, a half-hour nap, ten years of the same rigid eight hours of sleep. Rain or shine, no matter what, even if you stay up late occasionally, you’re still up by six-thirty sharp.”

“It’s like there’s some program inside you.” Feng Shaoyang made an exaggerated gesture. “You operate like a machine, with none of the unpredictability of a real person.”

Being called a robot by her sister, Feng Baiming now knocked on Luo Mingyue’s door, wondering why she hadn’t shown up with milk and bread as usual.

She thought to herself at least now she didn’t seem much like a robot. What machine would go to such lengths to consider human feelings, so earnestly hoping for someone’s redemption?

If Feng Shaoyang knew, he might ask if she had feelings for Luo Mingyue.

Feng Baiming thought this was one of the downsides of being an Alpha and Omega, any slightly close relationship would inevitably be questioned for ulterior motives.

But Luo Mingyue was still just a kid, Feng Baiming reminded herself sternly. She was simply unable to let go, that was all. How could any decent adult stand by and watch a young person stray down the wrong path without intervening?

Of course, if Luo Mingyue knew what she was thinking, she’d probably retort: Then why doesn’t Miss Feng show the same concern for Lu Jia?

People were like that, once they developed a personal bias, they often failed to recognize it, convincing themselves they treated everyone the same.

A faint thud came from the room. Feng Baiming could tell it wasn’t the long-legged girl tumbling out of bed more likely a book or tablet falling to the floor. After a brief hesitation, she called out, “Luo Mingyue, are you alright?”

The sound of her name jolted Luo Mingyue awake, though drowsiness still clung to her. Sunlight streamed in, bright enough that even with her eyes closed, golden spots danced behind her eyelids.

For a fleeting moment, the Feng Baiming of this life seemed to overlap with the Miss Feng from her past yet they didn’t quite align.

Everything had started the same way, she had addressed her politely as Miss Feng, and in return, the other woman had maintained a cool, distant formality, calling her Miss Luo.

Even in death, in her past life, she had still been addressed that way.

This life should have followed the same script. But now, Feng Baiming only used Miss Luo on rare occasions, usually when displeased, enunciating crisply: “Miss Luo, don’t stay up late. Playing on your phone at night is bad for your eyes.”

The rest of the time, she simply called her by name.

“Luo Mingyue.”

When those three syllables left Feng Baiming’s lips, clear and deliberate, even such an ordinary name seemed to take on a tender, almost saccharine softness, like delicate petals unfurling.

Luo Mingyue never missed the subtlest shifts in Miss Feng’s expression. When she called her name, those perfectly shaped brows would knit ever so slightly, and the calm lake of her eyes would ripple with something.

Perhaps it was the same indulgent amusement one might show a puppy, a kitten, or a child.

But because it wasn’t dislike, there was also a trace of fondness, something Luo Mingyue had never seen in the Feng Baiming of her past life.

She didn’t understand. Was this affection? She had always believed love to be something solemn, silent, a quiet, enduring presence.

To her, love was weighty, carrying warmth and substance.

But maybe that was just an excuse. She had resolved to keep her distance from Miss Feng in this life, yet every time she tried to pull away, this version of Feng Baiming would draw closer.

And her own self-control was lacking, she always wanted just one more glance.

So their lives had veered onto a path entirely different from before. If she had to describe it, the future of her relationship with Miss Feng had become so unpredictable that even she occasionally found it baffling.

Were they good friends now? Did Miss Feng,  actually have feelings for her?

At the very least, hearing Feng Baiming call her name was more effective than ten alarm clocks.

Rolling out of bed, she stepped on the fallen book before catching herself. Picking it up, she raised her voice slightly in apology. “I stayed up too late reading last night and overslept.”

Rushing to open the door for Miss Feng, she caught sight of her own reflection in the full-length mirror, her hair sticking out in all directions like a bird’s nest. She hastily grabbed a comb to smooth it down.

After frantically making herself somewhat presentable, she opened the door to find Miss Feng standing before her. Due to their height difference Miss Feng only reaching her shoulders, she always had to look up at her.

Meeting Miss Feng’s clear, dark eyes, Luo Mingyue’s heartbeat quickened by two beats. This time, however, Miss Feng glanced down, enunciating each word with emphasis as she called out, “Miss Luo.”

While Luo Mingyue’s thoughts wandered, she also shivered slightly, wondering if Miss Feng was about to scold her for oversleeping.

Then she heard Feng Baiming say, “Why aren’t you wearing shoes again?”

Only then did she look down and realize she was barefoot. Flustered, she instinctively replied, “I was in such a hurry to see you that I forgot.”

Before she could even register how familiar those words sounded, Feng Baiming cracked a smile, as if suddenly transported back to their first meeting in this lifetime, when Luo Mingyue had also rushed out barefoot from her room, eager to see her.

Just like that, the matter of oversleeping this morning and staying up reading until dawn the night before was gently brushed aside.

Feng Baiming asked what book she had been reading. After a moment’s thought, Luo Mingyue explained it was a novel written by a beta, offering perspectives entirely outside the alpha-omega framework.

Feng Baiming suggested she read some passages aloud, so Luo Mingyue selected a conversation between the beta protagonist and her friend:

“Controlling the narrative is crucial, perhaps the most important thing of all. Alphas hold power, so they define the rules of the game: when an alpha pursues wealth and power by any means necessary, it’s called ambition and drive. History praises them as formidable figures, even if they abandoned wives and children along the way.”

“But if the protagonist were an omega, displaying the same hunger for money and influence, resorting to ruthless methods, they wouldn’t be praised. Instead, they’d be labeled as scheming, gold-digging. Tell me, why is the same pursuit judged so differently based on gender?”

“Because whoever holds societal power gets to define morality, right and wrong, even truth itself. They can paint kindness as stupidity and dress cruelty as heroism.”

“I pity omegas, so rigidly defined by alphas. Sometimes I’m even grateful to be an overlooked beta, at least I’m spared the lifelong labels forced upon omegas.”

After finishing these passages, Luo Mingyue grew slightly uneasy. “But this is an 18th-century novel,” she added quickly. “Things are much better now. Back then, omegas and betas could barely even access education.”

Feng Baiming listened intently, then laughed softly. “You’re unlike any other alpha. I rarely see you categorize people by gender to you, everyone’s just human, regardless of designation.”

“Yet sometimes, the way you tiptoe around me makes it clear you still see me as a fragile omega needing careful handling.”

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