The Stand-In Alpha Goes Viral on a Dating Show - Chapter 79

At that moment, in the dead silence of the night, a harsh shout suddenly broke out, followed by the chaotic sound of hurried footsteps.

What’s happening?

Inside the house, everyone who had been jolted awake pricked up their ears, hearts pounding violently in their chests. A surge of hope rose unbidden within them.

Could it be—someone has come to save us?

Among them, Chi Wan was in the worst condition. After losing so much blood, her body was drained of all strength, her head swimming in waves of dizziness, as if her very soul was about to slip away.

“Chi Wan, hold on. I’ll get you out.”

Suddenly, a voice—An Ran’s voice—sounded right by her ear, so real yet almost dreamlike. Startled, Chi Wan forced her bleary eyes open.

To her shock, she saw An Ran crouching close behind her, busy with something.

At first, Chi Wan didn’t understand. It wasn’t until the ropes around her snapped apart that realization dawned.

“An Ran, you…” Her voice was faint and hoarse, her body too weak to speak clearly.

Before she could finish, a cool fingertip pressed gently against her lips.

“Shh.”

Don’t speak.

An Ran tore a strip of fabric from her skirt and quickly bound Chi Wan’s wound, careful to keep blood from dripping along the way.

Every move was cautious, calculated to avoid drawing the kidnappers’ attention.

In that moment, Chi Wan understood.

Those newcomers who had appeared… they might not be here to save them at all.

Perhaps, like the first group, they too wanted to abduct them.

For An Ran, escaping on their own was the only safe option. Neither group could be trusted.

Chi Wan caught her meaning. Quietly, she rose to her feet and followed behind. An Ran never let go of her wrist, holding it so tightly it seemed she feared even the slightest slack would cause Chi Wan to slip away.

An Ran… don’t you blame me anymore? Chi Wan looked at the slender figure moving swiftly ahead, lips trembling with the urge to ask aloud.

The night was misty and dim. They ran hard across the open fields, leaving the chaos and fighting far behind.

But Chi Wan’s body could no longer keep up. Deprived of blood and oxygen, her heart felt as though it was being torn apart.

I really can’t go on, she thought with despair.

Suddenly, her foot struck something on the ground. She stumbled, dragging An Ran down with her. They both hit the earth, struggling a moment before climbing back to their feet.

But that fall nearly shattered what little hope Chi Wan had left.

“Leave me. I don’t have the strength anymore.”

She no longer wanted to run. Her body had long surpassed its limits. In the thickening darkness, she stood with her head bowed, like a cold, lifeless statue.

An Ran’s heart clenched painfully. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Her voice trembled as she spoke, but she turned her face away, unwilling to let Chi Wan see her expression—unwilling to let her know just how much anguish she felt.

The shadows hid her features, but their hands remained tightly clasped. Feeling the tremors in An Ran’s grip, Chi Wan’s own heart softened. An unwillingness stirred within her—a rekindled will to live.

The words of surrender caught in her throat, unsaid. Seeing that Chi Wan no longer spoke of giving up, An Ran’s rigid body eased ever so slightly.

Still holding her tightly, she moved forward again, though her pace had slowed considerably.

But the road of escape stretched on endlessly, with no end in sight.

Chi Wan’s heart convulsed violently in her chest. Her body screamed for her to stop. Continuing only brought more agony. She closed her eyes, letting herself collapse—only to be caught by a pair of slender but unyielding arms.

“I won’t allow you to give up.”

An Ran’s jaw was clenched tight, lips pressed into a thin line, as if forcing herself to endure something unbearable.

“But I…” Chi Wan tried to speak, but her words were swallowed by the sight of An Ran’s reddened eyes.

An Ran gazed at her, eyes bloodshot and weary, stripped of their usual gentleness. Yet within them Chi Wan could see something unshakable—resolve laced with sorrow.

She could say nothing, only stare back in silence.

“You deceived me first,” An Ran whispered, leaning close to her ear, lips trembling, breath unsteady, her voice low and heavy, tinged with bitterness. “I haven’t even held you accountable yet. Don’t think you can just slip away like this.”

Chi Wan’s eyes grew damp. Pain pressed down in her chest, but looking into An Ran’s eyes, she suddenly found strength welling up inside her. Perhaps she didn’t want to leave An Ran to walk this lonely road alone.

An Ran tightened her grip on her hand, leading her onward. In the wild grass, only their ragged breathing could be heard.

At last, in the distance, faint points of light appeared—lamps, perhaps homes.

Where there were people, there was hope. If they could reach that place, if Chi Wan’s wounds could be treated, she might live.

Hope quickened their steps. But no one expected that, just ahead, the path would end.

A dead end.

An Ran, usually fearless, froze in place as though her very soul had left her. To see hope for life snuffed out before her eyes—it tore her apart.

Chi Wan could feel the stiffness in her body, as though some invisible weight pressed down so hard An Ran could no longer bear it.

“How could this be…” she murmured again and again, disbelief etched across her face, a sight that made Chi Wan’s heart ache.

“Forget it. Maybe this is fate.”

Chi Wan’s lips curved in a bitter smile. She reached out and clasped An Ran’s cold hand.

“Fate?”

In that instant, An Ran’s eyes burned even redder. She let out a broken laugh, heavy with sorrow and scorn.

“Then what—did I take the wrong path? Was it me…?”

Her body swayed unsteadily. The thought of Chi Wan’s death was unbearable, the guilt threatening to devour her whole.

“It’s not your fault. It has nothing to do with you.” Chi Wan’s heart ached terribly. She wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight. “Look around us—it’s all the same. Like an island of despair, no matter which way we turn, the end is always the same.”

So don’t blame yourself. No matter which road we chose, it would still lead here.

She held An Ran’s breaking heart tightly. “Remember, this is my fate. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Fate? What kind of thing is fate—that it can toy with us like this?”

An Ran’s voice dripped with hatred. Her fists clenched so hard they trembled. It was as though she was speaking to herself:

“Then what was the point of me coming back? Just to be alone in the end… Is this what they call retribution?”

Chi Wan listened quietly to An Ran’s whispered words. For a fleeting moment, a thought surged into her mind—fragmented, incomplete, and never certain enough to grasp.

She even began to worry that An Ran had lost her grip on reason. Gently, her fingertips brushed against the veins bulging on the back of An Ran’s hand.

“Even if it’s fate, then it should be mine to bear. Don’t overthink.”

An Ran’s eyes were red, the tip of her nose flushed, her expression heartbreakingly pitiful.

“How could I not overthink?” Tears welled up deep within her gaze, as if silently saying: You’re going to leave me. How could I not?

A wave of sorrow rose within Chi Wan as well. Never had she imagined that their story would reach such a tragic conclusion.

Perhaps sensing the heaviness shrouding Chi Wan, An Ran suddenly shed her grief and let a strange smile bloom on her lips.

“It’s all right. I’ll stay with you.”

That was what she said.

An Ran thought to herself: she had already died once. She did not fear death. If it came again, then so be it.

She had made up her mind. Her expression carried no pretense, as though she was truly ready to walk hand in hand into the underworld.

Chi Wan desperately wished she was wrong, yet no matter how she looked at her, An Ran’s eyes conveyed only that single message.

Only at this moment did Chi Wan finally realize the depth of An Ran’s feelings—

A love so deep that without her, An Ran could no longer go on living.

The realization shook her to the core. And yet, a bold thought flickered across her heart: Could it be… that An Ran has been reborn?

All those inconsistencies she had overlooked before rose one by one in her mind, each more chilling than the last.

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask, but before the words could leave her lips, the system confirmed her suspicion.

【Ding! Host, you’ve guessed correctly. This is An Ran’s greatest secret. Do you remember the mission I gave you about uncovering the villain’s secret?】

If she revealed An Ran’s secret, she could return to her original world.

Now, the progress bar appeared before Chi Wan’s eyes, merging with the completion of all her previous tasks. Only a little more remained.

One more secret—and she could go back. She wouldn’t have to truly die in this world.

The sudden knowledge that she could live filled Chi Wan with relief. Yet the thought of never seeing An Ran again made her chest unbearably heavy, almost suffocating.

She loved An Ran. It was a love so profound it could never be severed, never be replaced.

【Host, as long as you live, no matter how difficult, there will always be hope.】

Bound by certain restrictions, the system could say no more. But it trusted that Chi Wan would understand.

An Ran, leaning against Chi Wan’s embrace, seemed to have cast aside all hesitation, quietly waiting for the end.

Then came a gentle touch and a whisper by her ear.

“I won’t die…”

Chi Wan’s voice was hoarse. She had rehearsed countless words in her heart, yet in the end, all she could say was this one line.

She wanted to explain more—how could An Ran possibly understand such a fragment? But before life and death, perhaps words were powerless.

Though Chi Wan was never clumsy with speech, she found herself unable to explain further.

After long hesitation, she chose instead to tell a story:

“Once, there was a medical student. She fell asleep and woke up in another world. In that world, she had become someone else…”

There were metaphors hidden within, her words slow and deliberate.

As she spoke, she quietly watched An Ran’s reactions. At first calm, as though merely listening to a tale. But as the story went on, An Ran’s breathing quickened—she understood.

“Then… can she ever come back?”

After a long silence, An Ran finally asked. What Chi Wan said was incredible, but An Ran herself had been reborn. To her, it wasn’t impossible to believe.

Yet doubt lingered. Two worlds separated by a chasm like the heavens and the abyss—perhaps once parted, they would never meet again.

Still, she chose belief. Anything was better than Chi Wan truly dying.

“She will fight to return. Because she knows… someone is waiting for her there.”

Chi Wan kissed An Ran’s forehead, passing on all her determination, all her worry.

“Can you tell me… did you ever love me?”

Even now, An Ran could not let go of her doubts—about Chi Wan being hurt in Mingyu’s stead, about Chi Wan once striking at her.

Love? How could it not be love… But Chi Wan’s lips trembled, and not a single word could escape. The unseen restraints still clung to her, binding her from within.

An Ran waited a long time. No answer came. Her heart sank half a beat lower. And yet, she saw the remorse and struggle in Chi Wan’s eyes—perhaps there truly was something unspeakable.

Her lashes lowered as she thought quietly.

Forget it. As long as she’s alive, everything else can wait.

A soft relief spread through her heart.

“Just remember—whatever debt lies between us, we’ll settle it once you survive.”

Her tone was fierce, like a little beast baring its fangs. But it wasn’t frightening—only endearing.

Chi Wan knew what she meant—the kidnapping, and all that had happened then. Even if she had been under control, the scar still lingered in her heart.

Especially the wounds An Ran suffered because of her—every trace of blood carved itself into her soul.

“I can tell you my secret. But in exchange, you must promise me one thing.”

By now, dawn was breaking, the horizon pale with first light.

An Ran’s eyes, shining against the glow, carried astonishing resolve. That single look made Chi Wan’s heart pound wildly—

As if foreseeing what was about to come.

For a moment, she dared not speak, only waiting for An Ran’s request.

An Ran held her gaze, then wrapped her arms around her, leaning close to whisper in her ear.