The Stand-In Alpha Goes Viral on a Dating Show - Chapter 80.2

Eventually, the group grew impatient. They swarmed her, relying on numbers to tie her down.

But then Meng Lan began shrieking and laughing at the same time. Her laughter was sharp, chilling—enough to make one’s skin crawl.

“Maybe we should… send her to a mental hospital?”

The girls exchanged uneasy glances, silently acknowledging the same fear.

Mingyu was petrified, but forced herself to calm down. After all, she was now the Chi family’s acknowledged daughter—the Chi family’s heiress.

Losing her longtime admirers meant little. What truly mattered was not losing her standing within the Chi family.

She quickly made her way to the Chi estate, Lu Xin and the others trailing after her.

Hearing their footsteps behind her, Mingyu glanced back with disgust, but didn’t stop them. She needed witnesses.

She had suffered a great injustice—not only did she want Chi family’s sympathy, she needed them to take her side.

In her imagination, once Chi Feng heard what had happened, he would surely erupt in fury and immediately take action on her behalf.

But when she finally reached the Chi residence, she was stunned.

Chi Feng’s face was livid—not at her plight, but at the old Matriarch of the Chi family. She was furiously berating her mother, ordering the servants to pack all her belongings and throw them out.

The scene was one of total rupture.

For a wealthy family, reputation was everything. For her to cast aside appearances and throw her own mother out—it could only mean something of enormous consequence.

Mingyu’s heart pounded violently. A chilling thought struck her. She had heard rumors that the old Matriarch always favored sons over daughters. Could it be… she was the one who arranged her kidnapping?

The possibility made Mingyu dizzy. That her own grandmother would plot to have her kidnapped—such a truth was almost unbearable.

And yet, Chi Feng’s actions also proved her importance.

Her feelings were a tangle of dread and secret delight.

Taking a steadying breath, she forced a smile and approached gently: “Father, what are you doing? No matter what, Grandmother is still family…”

She wanted to say, I hope you can let go of past grievances and reconcile.

But before the words could leave her lips, Chi Feng’s dark gaze landed on her. The emotions she held back in her eyes made Mingyu’s heart jolt.

“Where is Wan’er? Where is she?”

The girls froze.

Chi Feng, suppressing her mounting anxiety, pressed again: “Where are Chi Wan and An Ran? Why haven’t I seen them?”

Mingyu’s lips parted in shock. What? Father, why are you worried about those two, instead of me—your own daughter?

She stepped closer, hoping she would truly look at her. But Chi Feng seemed soulless, trembling as she whispered:

“So… my Wan’er… still isn’t safe?”

By the end, her voice broke, sounding almost like a sob.

None of them had ever seen Director Chi so disheveled, so heartbroken. They could only stare in disbelief.

“I must find Wan’er.”

Chi Feng murmured as she strode forward, a dozen bodyguards hurrying after her.

Mingyu stood frozen, eyes following her back. But she never once looked at her, as if she was nothing—dispensable.

Why? A terrible premonition struck her. Am I not his daughter? Why does he ignore me so completely? Where did everything go wrong?

“Hahaha…”

Amid the suffocating tension, sudden laughter split the air, drawing everyone’s gaze.

But when they saw it came from the unstable Meng Lan, they quickly averted their eyes.

Mingyu looked toward the gates of the Chi estate, where the old Matriarch stood, cursing her son for being unfilial. She wanted to rush over, to demand why her grandmother would orchestrate her kidnapping.

But just as she took a step, Meng Lan’s mocking voice pierced her ears:

“Mingyu, you don’t understand, do you? All your scheming, and in the end it’s all for nothing! Do you know why? The truth is simple—you’re not Chi Feng’s daughter at all!”

The words left everyone stunned. “She’s not? Then who is?”

“Hahaha, take a guess!”

Meng Lan laughed until tears streamed down her face, but there was no joy in it—only unspeakable sorrow.

Seeing her state, and recalling the recent events, Lu Xin and the others felt their hearts sink. A thought flashed through their minds:

“Could it be Chi Wan…?”

No one else fit.

“Yes—it’s Chi Wan! And you all know what you did to her! Hahaha—you know better than anyone!”

Her words made their blood run cold.

In that dim, locked room… what they had done to Chi Wan—if that ever came to light, what would Director Chi do to them?

At that moment, Lu Xin and the others silently wished that Chi Wan and An Ran would either vanish forever—or never remember a thing.

Because for them, nothing outweighed their own survival.

“No! That’s not true! I don’t believe it!”

Mingyu shook her head violently, refusing to listen.

She rushed forward. She had to demand the truth herself.

Lu Xin and the others, startled into realization, hurried after her.

The harm was already done—but perhaps admitting their mistakes now was better than stubborn denial.

Not long after, as Mingyu and the group arrived, a man approached Chi Feng and reported: “We’ve found Miss An.”

“But her condition… isn’t good.”

Chi Feng’s heart sank. Her fists clenched as she quickly strode toward An Ran. She was already lying inside an ambulance.

The stark white sheets only highlighted her misery—her tear-streaked face, her frailty, her broken spirit.

Her lips parted in a faint whisper, murmuring the same two syllables again and again: Chi Wan.

“Miss An has been unconscious for some time. We discovered her…”

The subordinate hesitated. He wanted to report everything honestly—that there were also chaotic footprints leading away. But if he did, it would imply that Miss Chi Wan had likely met with grave misfortune.

Even without words, Chi Feng read his expression. Dread clenched her chest. After pressing for the truth, she finally learned it.

Her body buckled. She collapsed on the spot, tears leaking from her eyes.

Wan’er… my Wan’er…

Lu Xin and the others felt the world go dark. They could already foresee the doom awaiting them.

“Chi Wan! Chi Wan! You look so tired—you must’ve stayed up all night again.”

In a haze, she thought she heard someone calling her name. The voice was familiar, yet she couldn’t place it.

Her heavy eyelids fluttered open, and she saw a face—delicately made up, smiling down at her.

“…Who are you?”

Chi Wan blurted out instinctively,

“What? You don’t recognize me anymore?” The girl immediately raised her voice in mock outrage, as if forgetting her was the most absurd thing in the world.

“Chi Wan, are you half-asleep? Or just too happy to think straight? Don’t tell me you drank so much last night you blacked out?”

She rattled on quickly, even waving her hand in front of Chi Wan’s face. Annoyed, Chi Wan pushed herself upright and swatted her hand away.

Yet deep inside, a hollow feeling lingered, as though she had forgotten something important.

“What’s with the attitude? Taking it out on me because you just woke up? We’ve known each other for years—don’t treat me like that!” The girl pouted, cradling the back of her hand where Chi Wan had slapped it red.

Chi Wan noticed the mark as well. She hadn’t used much force; perhaps it was just that her friend’s skin was pale and overly sensitive.

When Chi Wan didn’t respond, the girl’s expression shifted. “Wait… you really didn’t lose your memory, did you?”

“No…” Chi Wan muttered impatiently. The exchange jogged her memory—this was Qin, her childhood friend and longtime classmate. Except for university, they had always studied in the same schools.

“Aha! I knew it. But you really had me going—I almost believed it…” Qin waggled her brows dramatically, still shaken. Then she brightened. “By the way, you’re staying on at the university to teach, right? Congratulations, I haven’t even said it yet!”

At her words, Chi Wan belatedly remembered. She had finished her doctorate in medicine and was about to remain at the university as a lecturer, with an annual salary in the hundreds of thousands.

By all accounts, her future was limitless.

So why did she feel so empty, as if she had lost something far more important?

Her hand pressed unconsciously to her chest, brows furrowing.

“You don’t look happy… Is it because the university isn’t paying enough? If you really want to jump ship, how about giving me the job instead?”

Qin teased, expecting her friend to roll her eyes and refuse.

But instead, Chi Wan murmured, “Sure… as long as I can see her one more time.”

Both of them froze. Qin almost thought she’d misheard. After some hesitation, she asked carefully, “Who is she? Did you… get a girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? Not boyfriend—girlfriend,” Chi Wan replied without thinking.

The moment the words left her mouth, she froze, clapping a hand over her lips. Why had she said that?

Lifting her eyes, she saw Qin’s wide, shocked stare. Only one thought crashed through her mind: I’m finished.

“Wait—are you coming out to me right now?”

Qin’s jaw dropped, then she suddenly wrapped her arms protectively around herself, blurting out, “Don’t tell me… you like me?”

“As if!” Chi Wan waved it off with feigned nonchalance. “I was joking.”

“I thought so. We’ve been classmates for years—I never noticed that kind of vibe from you.”

Still, Qin’s voice trembled. That one casual “girlfriend” had rattled her. She was usually the type to joke about anything, but this time she was uneasy.

Chi Wan chuckled along, but deep inside, a weight settled over her.

Something about her today felt off.

It had to be that dream. She had dreamt of someone—she couldn’t recall the face, but the yearning was so strong it lingered even now. She almost wanted to go back to sleep, just to see if she could find that person again.

But reality demanded her focus. She had important research to complete; she couldn’t indulge herself.

When she finally wrapped up her work and returned home, the moment she saw her parents, tears welled up without warning.

The rush of emotion startled even her.

“Wan’er, why are you crying all of a sudden? Did something happen?”

“No… I just missed you both,” she muttered awkwardly, wiping her eyes.

Her parents exchanged a look, amused at this rare display of vulnerability from their daughter.

“Wan’er,” her mother said gently, “you’re not young anymore. You’ve never even been in a relationship. That won’t do.”

Caught off guard, Chi Wan blinked under her mother’s smiling gaze. She didn’t even know how the topic had jumped to romance, but her first instinct was resistance.

“Don’t refuse just yet. At least look at the photos.”

Her mother clearly had her methods. Before Chi Wan could object, she pressed a stack of photographs into her hands.

Stunned, Chi Wan took them and began flipping absentmindedly—until her eyes fell on one photo among several men. A woman.

“This must be a mistake!” she gasped aloud.

“Surprised?” Her mother smiled knowingly. “It’s not a mistake. When I heard from your classmate today, I wasn’t shocked at all. So what if it’s a girlfriend? I’m open-minded. I can accept it.”

“What?” Chi Wan’s eyes widened in disbelief.

She hadn’t expected her classmate to blab, even as a joke, and even less that her parents would believe it.

“I’m your mother. I know you better than anyone. To me, it didn’t sound like a joke at all. And if it’s true, then all the more reason—if you want a girlfriend, go ahead. Don’t be afraid.”

Her heart thudded wildly at her mother’s words. For a fleeting moment, a thought burst into her mind—

Wonderful! If that’s the case, I can bring her home and introduce her to them.

But then she froze. Her?

Who exactly did she want to bring home?

Chu Wan probed her memory, but it was as though a heavy mist blocked her view.

“Look at this girl in the photo,” her mother pressed. “She’s in the same field as you. You’ll have plenty in common. Just meet her once.”

Under her mother’s gentle insistence, Chu Wan agreed.

They met at a café. The woman was straightforward—she liked Chi Wan and wanted to pursue her.

But Chi Wan felt no spark. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready for a relationship right now.”

The woman’s disappointment was plain. “Is there something wrong with me?”

Chi Wan wanted to say no, but the way the woman looked at her, demanding an answer, made her hesitate. And then, out of nowhere, she heard herself asking:

“If one day I disappeared, would you wait for me?”

The question had leapt from her lips before she could stop it, startling even herself.

The woman blinked, then chuckled, winking. “Asking something like that on a first meeting? If I said I’d wait forever, would you even believe me?”

To her, the question felt like a trap.

Chi Wan realized her mistake and gave a rueful smile.

Seeing this, the woman sighed. She knew it wasn’t going anywhere. Before leaving, she said lightly, “If it’s a few years, I could wait. But if it’s longer…”

She left the rest unsaid, but they both understood.

They walked out of the café together—one turned left, the other right. A failed meeting.

Even so, Chi Wan kept replaying the woman’s answer in her mind. It wasn’t wrong. But what kind of answer had she truly been hoping for?

Life slipped back into its quiet routine.

Before she knew it, a year had passed.

During that time, countless people confessed to her—men and women alike, many of them outstanding. But something always felt missing.

She turned them all down. Gradually, her reputation spread: Lecturer Chu of the Medical School had impossibly high standards.

Even the students gossiped, threads popping up on the school forum, speculating when their “ice goddess” would finally be taken.

Only Chi Wan knew the truth. It wasn’t that she didn’t want love—her heart already belonged to a shadow. There was no room for anyone else.

Yet after all this time, she still didn’t know whose shadow it was.

One evening, on her way home, she stopped at a crosswalk. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a graceful figure.

Normally, no matter how striking someone was, her gaze would drift away after a second. But this time, she found herself staring, transfixed.

Even after the woman walked toward a tall building and was about to disappear inside, Chi Wan remained rooted to the spot—until she jolted back to her senses and sprinted after her.

She crossed the street and spotted the woman again, standing by the glass doors. Loose hair fell across her face, obscuring her features.

But Chi Wan knew. It was her. The one from her dreams.

When she was only ten meters away, the woman slipped inside the building, vanishing from sight.

Panic surged, but then Chi Wan steadied herself. As long as she was still in the building, all she had to do was wait.

But when she asked at the front desk, the receptionist swore she had never seen such a lady. Even after checking the surveillance footage, there was no trace of her at all.

At that moment, Chi Wan was dumbfounded. Could it be… she had just experienced a supernatural encounter?

The receptionist’s gaze toward Chi Wan had already turned a little strange, though she still put on a polite smile and said, “Perhaps you were mistaken, miss.”

With no choice, Chi Wan left the building in a daze, her steps heavy as she wandered back home.

For several days afterward, she was listless. Seeing this, her friend Qin grew increasingly anxious.

“What on earth is wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost in broad daylight.”

“I didn’t see a ghost,” Chi Wan muttered, rubbing her face. “I saw true love.”

She had no idea how much of a shock those words delivered to her friend.

“What? Are you serious?!” Qin’s expression instantly mirrored that of someone who had seen a ghost.

Something was definitely wrong. Chi Wan had always been single since birth, and Qin used to think someone like her would only ever be married to her career. Yet not long ago, Chi Wan had suddenly blurted out that she had a girlfriend—fine, Qin had barely managed to accept that. But now, she was claiming she had found her true love?