A Short-Lived Cannon Fodder Alpha Just Wants to Be a Salted Fish - Chapter 3

As soon as the friend request was accepted, the top of the screen displayed: The other party is typing…

Wen Yuan waited for a while, but no message came through. Bored, she began browsing Chu Yihan’s profile.

Chu Yihan’s profile picture was a solid patch of black, a stark contrast to her “blank sheet of paper” aura. It felt strange. Her nickname was also odd: “125.” What the heck did that mean? It didn’t look like a weight measurement; Chu Yihan looked very thin. It couldn’t be her height, surely…

Wen Yuan was amused by her own nonsensical thoughts. Maybe it’s her lowest exam score, used as a username to remind herself?

How strictly self-disciplined (and insane). Wen Yuan gave a soft click of her tongue and clicked into Chu Yihan’s Moments. It was completely empty.

Wen Yuan suddenly remembered Shi Ran’s description of Chu Yihan—no worldly desires.

She exited the Moments window. The top of the screen still read “The other party is typing.” Originally, she hadn’t cared much, but now her curiosity was piqued. Wen Yuan really wanted to see what kind of “essay” Chu Yihan was drafting for her.

During the wait, Wen Yuan pondered over a nickname for her. With one hand touching the back of her neck and the other typing, she muttered to herself, “Looks so sweet, but bites so hard.”

With a hint of petty revenge, Wen Yuan added a small puppy emoji after the name “Chu Yihan.”

Just as she finished setting the contact name, Chu Yihan’s message finally arrived. It was only three words: “I am sorry.”

Perhaps because Chu Yihan had spent so long typing, Wen Yuan could sense the genuine guilt behind such a simple apology without any excuses.

Preserved Egg Solo Congee: “It’s okay. I know the heat cycle is miserable. I understand.”

Chu Yihan: “Has your manifestation finished then? Are you adjusting well?”

Preserved Egg Solo Congee: “It’s done. Not quite adjusted yet, but overall it’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

Wen Yuan glimpsed the “is typing…” at the top of the screen again. This time, she wasn’t curious about what Chu Yihan might send, so she hopped into a game instead.

When the match ended, Wen Yuan saw a new message from Chu Yihan:

[This matter is at least half my responsibility. I will take responsibility and compensate you.]

Startled by this statement, Wen Yuan paused before replying: “No need for compensation. I should thank you for giving me the suppressor and taking me to the infirmary.”

Thinking about it, she added her doubt: “By the way, where did the extra suppressor come from? Didn’t you use the one I borrowed for yourself?”

While waiting for a reply, Wen Yuan impulsively looked up online whether Omega suppressors worked on newly manifested Alphas.

The opinions were mixed. Some said that newly manifested Alphas have hormone levels too high for Omega suppressors to have any effect. Others said they have a 10% inhibitory effect on Alphas at any stage. Others said it depended on the Alpha’s specific constitution.

It was essentially an unsolved mystery. Wen Yuan curled her lip and closed the browser.

Chu Yihan had replied three minutes ago: “I just went to shower. Taking you to the infirmary was what I should have done. The suppressor belonged to someone else.”

Why bother explaining that she went to take a shower? Wen Yuan found it odd but couldn’t put her finger on why. She ruffled her hair, decided not to obsess over the suppressor, and replied: “Okay.”

When Han Yu entered the room, she happened to see Chu Yihan staring at her phone with her shoulders relaxed, looking as if she had just breathed a sigh of relief.

“Did something happen?” Han Yu handed over a glass. “Drink your milk.”

Chu Yihan put down her phone and took the glass without answering.

Han Yu didn’t push: “Your Uncle Duan and I have to go to Shanghai tomorrow. Yan’yan isn’t coming home, so take care of yourself.”

Chu Yihan drank her milk and gave an expressionless “Mm.”

“Find some time to visit your grandfather at the hospital,” Han Yu relayed the old man’s words. “He says he misses you.”

Chu Yihan: “I’ll go on Saturday.”

Han Yu’s frown didn’t relax. Four years ago, an accident took Chu Yihan’s father. At that time, seeing Chu Yihan made Han Yu think of her husband, so she was reluctant to see the child. She had gone traveling to clear her mind, leaving Chu Yihan with her grandparents.

Two years later, when Han Yu brought her back, she realized how wrong she had been. Chu Yihan had lost a father, which was no easier for her, yet Han Yu had selfishly let a teenager “lose” a mother’s love as well.

Chu Yihan was smart and sensible; she never caused worry and expressed full support for Han Yu’s remarriage without any tantrums. But the more compliant she was, the more Han Yu felt heartache and guilt, not knowing how to make it up to her.

“Go to sleep early.” Han Yu took the empty glass. After a few steps, she turned back to remind her, “Remember to keep your suppressors and patches ready.”

Chu Yihan’s long eyelashes flickered slightly. “Mm.”

After Han Yu left, Chu Yihan looked at the closed door and sighed. The faint sound in the empty room carried a trace of helplessness and loneliness.

Perhaps due to the manifestation and the awakening of certain memories, Wen Yuan tossed and turned that night. When she finally fell asleep, it wasn’t peaceful.

The next morning, it took three shouts from Fang Jingbai to get her out of bed for her online classes. Since she had started liking Jiang Huaiyu, Wen Yuan hadn’t been paying attention in class. She had fallen far behind, and the online lectures felt like listening to a foreign language.

By the afternoon, she was exceptionally drowsy. She didn’t even make it through two classes before her head began nodding like a pecking chicken.

During this time, Fang Jingbai called Wen Ming—who was resting at home—to check on her. Wen Ming, a total “daughter-slave,” saw Wen Yuan sleeping in front of the computer and couldn’t bear to wake her. He lied through his teeth to his wife: “She’s studying very hard!”

With no one to disturb her, Wen Yuan slept until the classes ended. When she woke up, the screen only showed the homework left by the teachers.

She was just wondering if her “special circumstances” excused her from homework when her homeroom teacher, He Xun, sent a voice note: “Wen Yuan, once you finish the homework, take a photo and upload it to the online center. The teachers will grade it for you.”

This left Wen Yuan stunned. Previously, no one cared if she did her homework; now, she was the teacher’s top priority.

Ridiculous…

Chinese and English she could barely manage, but the long-form questions on the math paper were completely beyond her. After staring at the paper for half an hour, she poked Shi Ran.

Yuxiang Rose: [Image]

Yuxiang Rose: “I don’t know how to do questions 15, 17, and 18 either.”

Wen Yuan started copying the answers from the photo. Typing was inconvenient, so she just called: “Did you discuss this with Wang Sanjin?”

“He said he doesn’t know.” Shi Ran huffed. “But when I checked answers with Zhang Lili just now, she said Wang Xin gave her the answer to question 17 and specifically told her not to tell me.”

At the start of the semester, Wang Xin always hung around Wen Yuan and Shi Ran, but ever since he was elected Study Representative, he had stopped being friendly.

Wen Yuan clicked her tongue. “Such a petty mindset?”

Shi Ran chimed in, “He deserves to be the eternal runner-up.”

Wen Yuan’s heart stirred. “Don’t you have a ‘Number One’ in your contact list?”

“You mean the little Study God? I wanted to ask her,” Shi Ran sighed, “but I don’t dare.”

Wen Yuan was shocked. “You’re an Alpha, yet you’re afraid to ask an Omega a question?”

Shi Ran explained: “Honestly, from the two sentences we’ve exchanged online, I feel her aura is comparable to an Alpha. Very cold and aloof.”

Wen Yuan was amused. She really couldn’t associate Chu Yihan’s “sweet girl” face with the word “aloof.”

“Let me try.”

Shi Ran urged her excitedly, “Go, go! I’ll wait for the good news.”

After ending the call, Wen Yuan switched to her chat with Chu Yihan and saw she had sent a greeting: “How are you today?”

Wen Yuan took the chance to reply: “I’m okay, it’s just that I can’t solve these math problems [Frustrated].”

Only after sending it did she realize Chu Yihan had messaged her 40 minutes ago. She glanced at the time in the corner: 23:16.

It’s so late, is she asleep…?

After five minutes of silence, just as Wen Yuan was about to tell Shi Ran to give up, a message popped up.

Chu Yihan: “I’ll teach you.”

Wen Yuan was stunned for two seconds before quickly snapping a photo of the problems and sending them over. This time, Chu Yihan replied almost instantly: “Wait a moment.”

Ten minutes later, Chu Yihan sent a photo. On the scratch paper, the handwriting was elegant. Wen Yuan looked—it contained the formulas and logic for questions 15 and 17, but no specific steps or final answers.

Following Chu Yihan’s hints, Wen Yuan calculated the answer and sent it back: “Is this right?”

Chu Yihan: “Correct.”

Wen Yuan forwarded the answer to Shi Ran. Then she saw another message from Chu Yihan:

[The last question is a bit complex. Is it convenient for a voice call?]

Wen Yuan proved it was extremely convenient by acting immediately.

The ringtone chimed seven or eight times before Chu Yihan picked up. Wen Yuan spoke tentatively: “Hello?”

There was a silence for about half a minute before Chu Yihan replied: “Hello, Wen Yuan.”

Perhaps because it was late, Chu Yihan had lowered her voice. Her sweet, airy tone calling her name was incredibly catchy. Wen Yuan’s throat tightened, and she suddenly didn’t know what to say.

Fortunately, Chu Yihan cut straight to the point and began explaining the problem. She explained it in great detail—much easier to understand than the math teacher’s jumpy logic. Wen Yuan confidently did the calculation.

The result was wildly wrong.

“The third step is wrong; you substitute for X, not Y.” Chu Yihan caught the mistake and patiently walked her through it again.

Wen Yuan’s ears were burning. She kept her head down and wrote furiously. Even though Chu Yihan didn’t sound even slightly mocking, Wen Yuan felt her “shame nerve” had been plucked hard. She just wanted to end this call quickly.

Meanwhile, Shi Ran was still egging her on via text.

Yuxiang Rose: “What’s there to be ashamed of? Everyone makes mistakes!”

Yuxiang Rose: “Don’t hang up! Ask the Study God if you can consult her on problems you don’t know in the future!”

Hounded by Shi Ran, Wen Yuan bit the bullet and asked. The other side went silent.

Did she think I’m too stupid and doesn’t want to teach me? Wen Yuan grumbled under her breath, “And she said she’d take responsibility for me.”

Just as she said that, she heard the sound of a water glass being placed on a table, followed by Chu Yihan’s smiling voice through the headphones.

“I will take responsibility for you.”