Transmigrated into an Omega to Date a Female Alpha - Chapter 3

Sheng Mian had enjoyed a few leisurely days—no need to get up early for work, no worrying about money. She almost felt as if she had grown younger.

One of the clearest changes during this time was the improved family atmosphere. Sheng Guangwen thought perhaps this was the balance between misfortune and blessing. On one hand, he wished his daughter could recover quickly; on the other, he feared this rare peace might vanish in an instant.

Sheng Mian discovered that her aunt was someone who loved to smile—shy smiles when thanked, content smiles when she finished all her cooking, and even gentle, sunlit smiles when she simply sat quietly on her own.

Gently resting his hand on Zhao Manwen’s shoulder, Sheng Guangwen looked at his wife’s reflection in the mirror—her face still untouched by time and spoke in a tone laced with unspoken relief:

“These past few days, you’ve smiled more than in the last two years combined.”

Zhao Manwen paused in applying her skincare, teasing back,

“Isn’t that you? You look so happy, you’ve got more wrinkles than before.”

Seated at the foot of the bed, Sheng Guangwen let out a deep sigh, his brow clouded with both sorrow and worry.

Of course, Zhao Manwen who shared his bed knew exactly what troubled him. She carried the same worry herself.

Removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, he said in quiet self-reproach,

“I’ve let Panchun down, and I’ve let Mianmian down. I’m not a good father.”

The mattress dipped beside him as Zhao Manwen clasped his hand, her voice filled with tenderness.

“Don’t say that, Guangwen.”

“Mianmian is sick right now, but in my heart, I’m ashamed to admit that I feel relieved. It’s been so long since our home felt this relaxed. The last two years—this place wasn’t a home, it was a battlefield, with tension and smoke in the air every single day.”

He tightened his grip on her hand, the red veins in his eyes stark against the whites, his lips trembling.

“I’ve let you down too, Manwen.”

Drawing a deep breath, he tried to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to break loose.

Zhao Manwen felt his hand squeezing hers more tightly. She looked at this Alpha who had set down his armor with nothing but kindness and forbearance.

“I’ve been regretting these past two years, maybe I shouldn’t have brought you and Yichen back, shouldn’t have made you endure so much grievance.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head.

“No, Guangwen. Have you forgotten what Panchun once said? If you’ve already missed your chance, don’t let regret keep growing.”

“Mianmian just doesn’t understand yet. It’s normal for her to resent me, even hate me.” She lifted her hand to his cheek. “Don’t blame yourself for feeling relieved. Everyone craves happiness.”

Sheng Guangwen pressed a soft kiss into her palm.

The next morning, Sheng Mian didn’t wake until almost noon. The Zhao Manwen had left food for her; only she and Sheng Yichen were at home.

With messy hair, she padded downstairs and found Sheng Yichen curled up on the couch gaming.

“Where’s Auntie?” she asked.

He turned to look at her oddly. “Mom went out.”

After eating, Sheng Mian flopped onto the couch. She noticed him inching away and said sincerely,
“Thanks for that day.”

His long fingers froze mid-tap, the game’s “character death” sound effect chiming from the phone. Setting it down, he looked at her with unreadable depth.

“No need to thank me. You only fell in because of me in the first place.”

She wasn’t stupid, his dislike was practically glowing in neon lights.

A chilling thought crossed her mind.

“You wanted to kill me?”

He gave her a searching look, then said in a strange tone,

“Actually, you wanted to kill me.”

Her heart lurched. The original Sheng Mian had tried to kill her own younger brother?

“You can’t swim?” His tone was almost casual, as if making small talk. But the question had been turning over in his mind for days. Could it really be a coincidence that she suddenly couldn’t swim that day and then conveniently got diagnosed with amnesia?

He suspected it was all an act, maybe she just wanted to create a false sense of family warmth before stabbing at their mother again. After all, making the whole house tense and miserable might please her.

Sheng Mian stayed silent a moment, unsure if he was asking or accusing.

“No, I can’t swim,” she admitted. Lying would be too risky if she were later found out.

He narrowed his eyes. Her big, blinking gaze practically screamed “foolish” in the right eye and “naïve” in the left. If this was a lie, her acting was Oscar-worthy. Maybe she really had lost her memory.

The silence stretched until he stood to leave.

“Why?” she called after him. He stopped, listening as she continued,

“I know you hate me, but why? I don’t remember anything.”

He turned, dark hair falling over his brow, a humorless smile tugging at his lips.

“To be exact, you hate both me and my mother. Every day it was ‘homewrecker’ this and ‘bastard’ that.”

Her eyes widened at the ugly, venom-laced words.

She wasn’t in a position to judge the original Sheng Mian’s actions, but if she wanted a happy ending, she had to do something about it.

At dinner, Sheng Guangwen asked,
“Mianmian, there’s still some time before school starts. Do you want to go somewhere to relax?”

She shook her head. She’d rather spend the time familiarizing herself with this world.

“School starts for twelfth grade?” she asked.

“Yes, senior year.”

Her face went slack. Senior year—the 5 a.m. wake-ups, midnight lights-out. Worse than working. High school was for nostalgia, not reliving.

Seeing her wilt, Zhao Manwen asked,
“What’s wrong, Mianmian? Feeling unwell?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, leaning back in defeat. “Just thinking about the five a.m. to midnight schedule. Makes me want to cry.”

Puzzled, Zhao Manwen said,
“What five a.m. to midnight? Don’t you start at nine and finish at five?”

Sheng Mian bolted upright, eyes bright.

“Nine to five? No early reading at six-something, no evening classes until ten?”

“Of course not. Who’d run a school like that? It’d ruin your health,” Zhao Manwen chuckled.

Her mood did a complete 180. This was even shorter hours than a job! If she was going to be home doing nothing, why not enjoy a light, carefree school life? She was suddenly looking forward to it.

The night before term began, she was too excited to sleep.

Zhao Manwen had already prepared new backpacks and stationery for both children. All Sheng Mian had to do was grab hers and get in the car.

Just before she left, Zhao Manwen stopped her. Puzzled, she stood still and felt something pressed against the back of her neck, looked like a bandage from the corner of her eye.

She was about to ask when Sheng Guangwen’s voice called from outside,

“Time to go, Mianmian.”

She waved goodbye and ran out to the car.

“First day of senior year,” he reminded her. “They’ll probably reshuffle classes, so get along with your new classmates.”

“Got it, Dad. But you don’t need to drive me today.”

“Of course I do, it won’t take long. I’ll head to the office right after.”

Before she got out, he repeated his instructions several more times, then watched her disappear into the crowd at the school gates.

Following the signs, Sheng Mian found Class 3 of Senior Year. The seating chart was taped to the blackboard: desk mates were paired by rank—1 with 30, 2 with 29, and so on.

She was number 26; her desk mate, number 5, was named Shen Zhilin. Their seats were in the last row by the back door.

Glancing over, she saw someone already sitting there—a pale figure with shoulder-length hair, head bent over a phone. The washed-white T-shirt hung loose at the collar, revealing elegant collarbones and a broad frame. The whole vibe was cool and aloof.

Wow. Even without seeing her face, she was clearly gorgeous.

As Sheng Mian approached, the girl looked up. Shen Zhilin had long, narrow eyes, dark brows, a straight nose, and fringe that cast her gaze in a soft blur.

“Hi, I’m Sheng Mian.”

“Hello. Shen Zhilin,” came the reply, with a polite nod.

They didn’t speak again. Sheng Mian was shy, but her seatmate was even quieter.

A tall, long-haired beauty in heels entered, their homeroom teacher.

“Hello, everyone. From today on, we’ll be spending our senior year together. The seating is based on your class exam rankings. If you want to change, talk to me privately. We’ll be working in discussion groups—three rows per group for the front, two rows per group in the back, six groups total. Get to know each other.”

The class gradually filled with chatter. The boy in front turned and beamed.

“I’m Qin Heng.”

His partner, a pretty but shy girl whose cheeks flushed when she spoke, followed with,
“I’m Yi Chi.”

Qin Heng carried most of the conversation, bouncing from introductions to future dreams, to complaining about eccentric teachers in their old classes.

After about fifteen minutes, the noise died down; most were flipping through books or scrolling their phones.

Sheng Mian checked her messages—her father had sent, “How’s the first day?”

“All good!” she replied.

She leafed through her textbooks; the content was similar to what she’d studied before. But as a liberal arts graduate, it all felt fresh enough.

Her seatmate, meanwhile, hadn’t spoken since her name. She scrolled on an older-model phone with a yellowing clear case.

Sheng Mian labeled each new book with her name, then opened her Chinese reader to browse essays and stories.

Sitting next to such a stunning “ice queen” was unsettling—Shen Zhilin was probably the most beautiful person she’d ever seen, and she carried a faint, addictive scent. Pity it was so subtle she couldn’t place it.

Shen Zhilin, for her part, was skimming part-time job listings while enduring the constant prickle of her neighbor’s gaze, so blatant it was almost tangible. Every time she peeked, Sheng Mian would hurriedly look
away and pretend to be reading.

When math class began, the lecture went over Sheng Mian’s head. She took notes mechanically, her eyelids drooping.

The moment the bell rang, she surrendered, laying her head down.

In the haze of half-sleep, she heard the scrape of a chair being moved, near yet far but her seat stayed steady.

Opening her eyes, she found herself staring at Shen Zhilin’s side profile: fine features, silky black hair, high nose, lips faintly pressed together. She drifted in a daze.

How could anyone look this good?

A long, elegant hand waved in her field of vision. Propping her head on her left hand, Shen Zhilin seemed to be trying to block the intensity of her gaze.

Still foggy, Sheng Mian’s eyes instinctively followed the motion until they landed on the back of her head.