The Unlucky Alpha and Her Hard-to-Please Omega - Chapter 11

Following the address provided by the journal editor, Tang Di wrote a long, sincere email to the corresponding author. She detailed Song Yi’s condition, attached all the test results, and pleaded for them to share their experience with the previous case of a malformed Omega. If possible, she even hoped to invite this expert to lead Song Yi’s surgery.

After sending it, Tang Di was anxious. She had been quite rude in her initial review; she wasn’t sure if the other party would buy her “act of humility” now.

They should, she thought. As long as they share the same medical ideals as I do.

Ding!

A notification sound for a new message popped up. Tang Di clicked it excitedly:

“We noticed you submitted to our journal six months ago. We sincerely invite you to share your latest research results. Our journal will provide you with the fastest and highest quality service…”

“Dammit, a call for papers.”

Tang Di’s inbox received countless such emails daily academic spam that she usually wouldn’t even click on.

Frustrated, she ruffled her hair and got up to pour a coffee. Outside the window, the moon was bright and the path was empty. Had the author gone to bed already? Did researchers actually sleep this early? How could they sleep?

Tang Di paced her office. The bitterness of the coffee traveled from her tongue to her cerebral cortex, making her alert and restless. On countless quiet nights, she had sat before her computer, fueled by coffee, organizing data. Night was the carnival of thought.

Ding!

Another notification. Tang Di rushed back to her desk. A subjectless email popped up. The body was concise:

“Yes. Let’s meet.”

In her excitement, Tang Di accidentally kicked the power cord loose. The screen went black instantly, reflecting her wide, shimmering eyes.

The next morning, after rounds, Tang Di swapped shifts with a colleague and boarded a plane out of the province. Two hours later, she landed. The biting chill of the North hit her, making her shiver.

She had arrived at the domain of the author, Zhang Zhiling. She had done her homework: this university’s medical school was world-renowned, and Zhang Zhiling was a chief attending physician in Obstetrics at the affiliated hospital, as well as a faculty member.

The autumn wind swept dead leaves across the ground. Up north, autumn was in full swing, and the scent of cedar drifted through the air. Zhang Zhiling had asked to meet her under the teaching building.

Tang Di stood there, arms crossed, waiting for Professor Zhang’s class to end. She had left in a hurry and hadn’t brought a coat; she was currently using the most primitive human method of warming up shaking.

Finally, the bell rang. The building erupted in noise as young faces streamed past. For a moment, Tang Di felt like she was back in her own years of sleepless, desperate studying.

“Chief Tang, hello.” A cool voice came from behind her.

Tang Di turned abruptly. Before her was a woman who looked even younger than herself. She wore a soft wool cardigan that carried the warmth of the indoors. Her gold-rimmed glasses gave her a scholarly, gentle look the kind of person who didn’t seem like they would hold a grudge.

“Chief Tang?” she confirmed.

“It’s me, it’s me,” Tang Di said, quickly reaching out to shake hands. “Don’t be so formal, just call me Xiao Tang.”

Zhang Zhiling’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Alright, Xiao Tang.”

Back on the film set, a scene had just ended. Song Yi sat by the sidelines, taking small sips of water. Wu Han was discussing the next storyboard with the assistant director, while Shen Yu gesticulated wildly, explaining her ideas to Wu Han.

Their scenes together were set to increase. In the drama, Ran Mo (Song Yi) encounters two very similar cases. She enters a criminal psychology classroom and stands in the back row, listening to the guest professor, Yu Rong (Shen Yu), explain the difference between serial killers and copycats. Later, through Ran Mo’s connection, Yu Rong becomes involved in the investigation as a psychological expert only for Ran Mo to discover Yu Rong’s increasingly severe mental issues.

Ran Mo and Yu Rong were supposed to grow closer until Ran Mo enters Yu Rong’s home for a psychological counseling session, falling asleep on the sofa while Yu Rong watches her intently…

Director Wu had granted Song Yi a huge favor: the filming schedule followed the script chronologically. Ran Mo and Yu Rong were becoming acquainted bit by bit a buffer Wu Han had intentionally left for Song Yi to mend her relationship with Shen Yu.

He thought they were like fire and water. In reality, Song Yi was currently carrying Shen Yu’s child.

This child would soon be gone. If she didn’t tell Shen Yu, the other woman would never know. Would Shen Yu even want a child? Song Yi looked over at her.

Sensing the gaze, Shen Yu winked arrogantly and shook a finger in front of her face, mouthing: “Don’t fall for me; there’s no future.”

Song Yi: “…”

Shen Yu herself is just a child.

But despite Shen Yu’s unreliability, Song Yi felt she couldn’t strip her of the right to know. Song Yi considered herself a mature adult, and adults had to consider both parties.

“Shen Yu, I need a word with you,” Song Yi said, walking over.

“Say it here. It took a lot of effort to get into character for the next scene,” Shen Yu grumbled.

“Your next scene is a lecture to a crowd. They aren’t even recording your audio. What ‘character’ do you need to be in?” Song Yi was almost amused by the sheer audacity.

“Just say it here. I’m not being alone with you, lest you go around telling everyone you’re allergic to me again.” Shen Yu turned back to Wu Han and flashed an exaggerated, brilliant smile.

Wu Han gave a dry laugh. He hadn’t meant to leak Song Yi’s words to Shen Yu; it was just that when Song Yi took leave, Shen Yu had demanded an explanation, threatening to skip work herself if she didn’t get one. He’d had no choice.

“My dressing room. Get over there.” Song Yi dropped the line, ignored Shen Yu, and walked away.

“Go, go! The next scene will take a while to set up anyway. Don’t keep Teacher Song waiting,” Director Wu urged.

In Wu Han’s eyes, Song Yi’s retreating back looked almost heroic. He hadn’t expected his advice to actually work and make Song Yi lower herself to make peace. Song Yi has it hard, truly. And then there was Shen Yu, being difficult and stalling. She doesn’t realize how precious this olive branch is!

“So… I should go find her?” Shen Yu asked.

“Hurry up!” Wu Han gave her a shove.

Shen Yu strutted toward Song Yi’s dressing room with the pace of a victor. Has Song Yi finally realized how over the top her verbal abuse has been? Given a sincere apology, Shen Yu decided she could graciously accept.

Speaking of which, Song Yi was a great Omega in every way, except for that cold, stubborn attitude. Shen Yu couldn’t even imagine what Song Yi would look like giving in. Maybe I’ll make her call me ‘Sister’!

Pushing the door open, she found Song Yi sitting with her legs crossed, gesturing imperiously toward a small stool. “Sit.”

Tsk, typical Omega, thin-skinned. I shouldn’t take it personally at a time like this.

Shen Yu sat on the tiny stool with the grace of a queen on a throne.

“Go ahead, I’m listening,” Shen Yu said.

Song Yi took a deep breath. Shen Yu’s face was full of anticipation.

“Shen Yu,” Song Yi bit her lip. Saying this wasn’t easy. “I’m pregnant.”

The smile on Shen Yu’s face froze instantly, like a plaster mask drying too fast.

“Wh… what?” She leaned forward instinctively, her breathing quickening. “Are you joking?”

“It’s yours.” Song Yi dropped the bombshell into Shen Yu’s mind, obliterating whatever little logic she had left.

Two seconds passed.

“Impossible!”

Shen Yu jumped up from the stool. The impact sent the stool rolling three times across the floor. Song Yi closed her eyes; she had told Shen Yu to sit precisely because she didn’t want a scene. Now, she could already imagine what the people outside were thinking.

Song Yi called Shen Yu into the dressing room, they shut the door, and suddenly—a loud crash. Let’s see who comes out on a stretcher.

Shen Yu lunged toward Song Yi, shouting: “Impossible! I’m telling you, Song, it’s impossible!”

“Keep your voice down!” Song Yi hissed, glaring at her. She knew exactly what kind of nonsense was about to come out of Shen Yu’s mouth.

Shen Yu lowered her volume, but somehow managed to scream in a whisper:

“Did I ever sleep with you?!”

“Am I blind?!”

“I could sleep with Tang Di, I could sleep with Wu Han, but there is NO WAY I slept with you!”

“I could go out right now and sleep with anyone, but I would never sleep with—”

SMACK..

A crisp slap interrupted Shen Yu’s repetitive rant. Song Yi, having reached her limit, stood before her. She brushed her hair aside, shoving the beautiful cinnabar mole on the side of her neck right in front of Shen Yu’s eyes, poking it for emphasis.

“Look. Remember now?”

Shen Yu: “!”

Shen Yu’s gaze was glued to the cinnabar mole. Her expression went through a dozen changes in half a second before shifting to Song Yi’s face. The vibrant colors of her shock faded into a deathly paleness. The look in her eyes was pure terror.

She stumbled back several steps. Unfortunately, her only stool had been kicked away. Her legs gave out, and she landed on her backside with a heavy thump.

Yes. She remembered.

A blurred face, a cinnabar mole as red as a drop of blood, the green floral scent floating in the air, and her own lingering pheromones—the scent of withered roses in a cabin with a lit fireplace.

That night… her and Song Yi!

The handprint on Shen Yu’s face began to redden. Her “thick-skinned” exterior had been completely breached. The throbbing heat of the slap reminded her of the greedy, reckless way she had behaved against the glands of Song Yi’s neck. The metallic tang of blood in her mouth matched her memories of that night, leaving her utterly ashamed.

Song Yi walked up to her, looking down at her. Shen Yu cringed in the corner, hair disheveled, half her face swollen.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to end the pregnancy. I simply felt that as the mother, you had a right to be informed,” Song Yi said coldly.

“Mm… mm. End it.” Shen Yu nodded mechanically, though Song Yi wasn’t exactly asking for her opinion.

“So…” Shen Yu finally hit the main point. She looked up at Song Yi with difficulty. “You… you can conceive?”

Tang Di had said that while her body had undergone secondary development, it still wasn’t like a normal Omega’s. But the explanation was too complex, and thinking about it made Song Yi irritable. She gave a vague grunt, unwilling to explain further.

Shen Yu’s gaze fell on Song Yi’s still-flat stomach. She opened her mouth, but not a single word came out.

Song Yi pushed open the dressing room door. Outside, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was pretending to be busy while peeking out of the corners of their eyes to see who would emerge.

Oh. It was Song Yi. Just her.

As expected, Song Yi is the one person on this set you do not mess with.

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