A Stand-in Alpha Awakens - Chapter 11

When she was very young, Cheng Yu had told her that Alphas didn’t necessarily have to exhaust themselves by taking the initiative to protect every Omega based on their status, but they must absolutely, absolutely never harm one at will.

Jiang Lu sat at the cafeteria table. Her eyes were fixed on the pineapple beef cubes on her tray, but it was as if she were looking through time and space at her younger self and her Alpha mother, who had always kept herself looking refined and capable.

“Promise me, Lulu: study hard, shoulder the responsibilities that belong to you, and take care of your mother. Don’t let her work too hard, okay?”

The weak voice lingered in Jiang Lu’s ears. She suddenly felt the urge to call Jiang Wen.

Sitting opposite her, Liang Shuang watched Jiang Lu wolf down her rice. Just as she was about to ask what was wrong, she noticed that many people seemed to be looking their way. She turned to scan the room and found quite a few sophomores and seniors peering in their direction, leaving her feeling utterly bewildered.

“Eat slowly, I’m going out to make a call first.” Jiang Lu stood up with her empty tray, giving Liang Shuang no chance to speak.

The school’s main gates had been locked when the bell rang, and since it was dinner time, the areas that were usually crowded were exceptionally quiet. Jiang Lu walked along the small path in front of the cafeteria, pulled out her phone, and tapped the top contact in her address book.

Jiang Wen, who had just left the company, heard her phone ring. Seeing her daughter’s name flashing on the screen, she first checked the notification bar to confirm it was indeed Sunday before answering.

“Hello, Lulu. Is something the matter?”

Hearing that voice—which showed no fatigue but was clearly still in “work mode”—Jiang Lu consciously raised her own pitch: “Nothing. It’s Sunday, so I wanted to remind you to go home early. Don’t stay at the office too late.”

Jiang Wen leaned back into her car. Her nerves, which had been tense all day, gradually relaxed at those words. “Mm, I’ve already left. I’m heading back now.”

“Good. Then drive carefully and stay safe.” Jiang Lu looked back at the cafeteria, where the lights were bright even though the sky hadn’t fully darkened.

“I will,” Jiang Wen replied. “Don’t overwork yourself either. If you need anything, remember to tell me.”

Jiang Lu stared at the pattern of the floor tiles. The floating, detached feeling she’d had subsided a little. She nodded firmly, though her tone remained as light as before: “I know, Mom. I’ll hang up now then.”

“Okay.”

As the call ended, Liang Shuang’s figure appeared behind the cafeteria’s glass doors. Jiang Lu waved and stood waiting. Seeing some stone benches nearby, she walked over to sit and tapped an icon on her screen to open her QQ Zone, which she hadn’t logged into for ages.

There weren’t many people on her account, but she followed several popular “Wall” accounts. Skipping over the junk messages accumulated from her long absence, Jiang Lu tapped the red dot in the corner. To her surprise, the first post on the refreshed page was an update from the No. 1 High Confession Wall.

She didn’t look closely at the caption, but the people in the photo were unmistakably her and Liang Shuang from earlier that afternoon, wearing their sunglasses. The update was from half an hour ago—right when she and Liang Shuang were playing badminton.

Even more surprising was that in just half an hour, the post already had over six hundred likes, and the comment section was so long she couldn’t reach the bottom.

Estimating the time it would take for Liang Shuang to walk over, Jiang Lu patiently scrolled down. Sure enough, after a few swipes, she found a photo of herself and Su Mengrui standing together. It was a bit blurry, suggesting the photographer was quite far away.

Far away… then they definitely didn’t hear our conversation.

Regretfully, Jiang Lu tapped the “Wall” admin’s avatar and quickly edited a message to send.

From a distance, Liang Shuang saw Jiang Lu typing away on her phone. Remembering the return time Old Yan had set for the phones, she suddenly realized she had a dozen or so unanswered WeChat messages. She pulled out her own phone to reply.

The messages in the group chat with her mothers were less about concern and more about showing off their affection for each other. Liang Shuang stood there and found a “perfunctory-yet-not-too-perfunctory” emoji to send back, before carefully composing replies to her grandparents’ inquiries.

Seeing Liang Shuang stop halfway, Jiang Lu paused her plan to log out. She continued typing rapidly, and after receiving a reply from the admin, she sent six random red envelopes in one go.

Then, she exited the chat and re-opened the update. After a successful refresh, the likes had jumped by nearly two hundred, and the comments had changed. Unlike the internet slang and emojis from before, the new comments were flooded with photos of her outside the school that afternoon. One small image, forcibly pinned to the top, was the most atmospheric and meaningful:

It was a snapshot taken just as she had been intercepted by Su Mengrui on her motorcycle.

It seemed there were more photos than she had imagined… this was perfect.

Jiang Lu tapped the Confession Wall account again and sent a direct transfer to pay for an extended “pinned” status.

If she had been hesitating about when to take action before this afternoon, her goal was now crystal clear after seeing Su Mengrui again: she wanted Chu Ziyan to see and know about this as quickly as possible. And she wanted more people to see and know it, too.

Jiang Lu’s understanding of Su Mengrui came entirely from the novel. In the book, as the protagonist, Su Mengrui had things far too easy, no matter how villainous her actions were. Now that the development of events had changed, Jiang Lu wasn’t sure what an undeterred and “lucky” Su Mengrui might do.

But whatever she planned, Jiang Lu felt she had to bring everything out into the open. She could not allow herself to be dragged into hell by a hidden hand from the shadows like in the book. Even if Su Mengrui was the protagonist, she wouldn’t be allowed to erase Jiang Lu silently like that.

The smartwatch on her pale wrist lit up. On the personalized theme, the slender minute hand pointed directly at the number 9.

At this point, the sun facing the watch finally moved to the far west. The light, turning golden, pierced straight through the west-facing floor-to-ceiling windows, through the balcony, and into the living room, completely enveloping Su Mengrui, who was curled up on the sofa, sobbing and clutching her head in pain.

The letter she had held so dearly had been torn into countless fragments scattered around her. On the clean coffee table, only a perfectly removed red wax seal remained. Under the sunset, the seal’s color looked dark—at first glance, it was hard to recognize its original hue.

Much like the current Su Mengrui, who could no longer remember how she felt before opening that letter. Her head was filled with the sharp, fierce handwriting on the pages.

Jiang Wanxin said she would never write again. She asked Su Mengrui to give up the idea of finding her; they would never meet again.

She also said she was living very well now and did not wish to be disturbed by the people and events of her past. She asked for Su Mengrui’s “fulfillment” and wished for her not to “yearn.”

Fulfillment? Not yearning?

Su Mengrui couldn’t believe those were words a mother could say. People said the bond between mother and daughter was connected by blood. Haha, it’s all a lie! I’m just a fool still craving that illusory maternal love!

Su Mengrui loosened her clenched fists. Her eyes were hollow as she stared at the light on the wall. It felt as if a part of her heart had been suddenly emptied, then filled with something else that made her ache with bitterness and pain.

…If we don’t meet, we don’t meet. Just an Alpha mother. Just an Alpha!

Thinking numbly, she wiped her reddened eyes with the back of her hand, stood up abruptly, found her bent phone, and slammed the door as she left.

Meanwhile, by a park two streets away from No. 1 High, Bai Yue sat in a business van eating pineapple beef while listening to her driver’s report.

She didn’t usually eat much, but today she finished every single cube of beef in the square bowl. Meeting the little Alpha had been an accident, but it didn’t feel bad. If Su Mengrui hadn’t set her sights on the girl, Bai Yue would have been quite happy to befriend her.

Bai Yue shook her head with regret. Her stainless steel fork hit the glass with a sharp clink. The driver’s report finished with the last sentence: “Miss Su has left.”

Bai Yue nodded. “Follow her. No matter where she goes, who she sees, or what she does, report it all truthfully to the Old Matron.”

“Understood.”

The car door opened. Bai Yue instantly blocked out her messy thoughts, lifted her skirt, and stepped out of the van into a nearby white sedan. Through the tinted black windows, she changed her shoes, started the car, and headed to the dessert shop she’d visited earlier to pick up the custom blueberry cake she’d ordered.

Su Mengrui left her apartment and hailed a cab at the gate, heading straight for a club under the Su family name. She didn’t stay long; shortly after it turned pitch black, she emerged smelling of alcohol and got into a flaming red sports car.

Back at No. 1 High, the bell ending the first period of evening self-study had just rung.

Liang Shuang, her hand aching from solving problems, leaned against her chair and asked Jiang Lu: “Hey, want to make a bet?”

“On what?” Jiang Lu was stretching her fingers. She turned toward her.

Liang Shuang arched an eyebrow. “Bet on whether any freshmen are trying to ‘scout’ you on the Confession Wall. Bet on whether your photo has become the new ‘Hot Topic’?”

Jiang Lu: “‘New’?”

“Mm-hm. The last hot topic was that Omega instructor from the freshman military training,” Liang Shuang said. “Want to bet?”

Jiang Lu smiled. “You’re on!”

Liang Shuang held out her palm, and Jiang Lu high-fived it immediately. “Name your terms.”

“One week of breakfast. I bet ‘Yes’.” Liang Shuang didn’t hesitate.

Jiang Lu played along: “I bet ‘No’.”

Just as the words left her mouth, a person who didn’t belong to Class 1 suddenly appeared at their desk.

“Shao Shuyi?” Liang Shuang looked at her in surprise. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t step a foot in here until you got in through your own merit?”

Shao Shuyi leaned half-over the table, waving her hand. “Oh, this is a special circumstance.”

“What special circumstance?” Liang Shuang asked.

Shao Shuyi tapped frantically at her square smartwatch and then turned it toward the two of them. “Look! You two are on the Confession Wall! The likes have passed fifteen hundred!”

“Fifteen hundred?” Liang Shuang squinted to get closer. Seeing 1,608 likes at the bottom of the tiny screen, she forgot to react.

Shao Shuyi looked more excited than the subjects themselves. “We only have three thousand students in the whole school!”

Jiang Lu waved it off. “Lots of alumni and seniors follow it too. That number doesn’t mean much.”

“Regardless, the Wall hasn’t seen this many likes in a long time,” Shao Shuyi pouted.

No. 1 High was different from other schools; most students were buried in their studies, and only a small portion paid attention to such things. Gaining that many likes in just two hours was truly remarkable.

For instance, in Class 1 right now, except for Jiang Lu—who was fully aware and had even given things a nudge—no one else reacted. Even Liang Shuang, who had initiated the bet, was a step behind.

But suffice it to say, she had won very quickly.

Jiang Lu accepted her loss: “Alright, starting tomorrow, I’ll buy your breakfast.”

Liang Shuang grabbed Shao Shuyi’s hand to look closer. The screen was too small to enlarge the photos, but by scrolling patiently, she could see everything that needed to be seen.

“I won so suddenly, I’m not used to it.”

“What?” Shao Shuyi didn’t understand what Liang Shuang meant. She was happy yet regretful. “I should have gone out with you guys this afternoon. I missed out on showing off this beautiful face of mine.”

“Then hurry back and get to work on your practice problems,” Liang Shuang said, letting go of her hand.

Shao Shuyi huffed and stood up. “Fine, I’m going.”

The bell rang. Jiang Lu looked at the schedule on the side of the blackboard and searched for the corresponding exercise book. The night deepened amidst the sounds of pens scratching. When the final bell of the night rang, the sound of dragging chairs finally filled the quiet Zhaixing Building.

Chu Ziyan had finished several practice papers. her eyes were so sore she had to rub them with one hand while leaning on her deskmate’s shoulder to walk out. The freshmen and sophomores had returned to their dorms half an hour ago; as the bell ended, the lit windows of the dorm buildings went dark one by one.

After descending two floors, Chu Ziyan’s eyes felt slightly better, and her pace quickened. Before school started, Su Mengrui—who grew up with her—had given her a lot of eye care products. She had picked a small bottle of eye drops to keep in her pocket, but it had run out at noon. She’d intended to open a new one in the afternoon, but her younger sister had interrupted her, and she’d forgotten.

Anxious to get back, she didn’t pay attention to what the surrounding students were discussing—until she heard the name “Su Mengrui.”

Chu Ziyan froze. She reached out to grab a student hurrying past. “What did you just say?”

“Whoa, hey—” The student, nearly knocked off balance, started to complain but stopped as their expression changed. “Chu… Class Monitor?”

Chu Ziyan gripped the student’s sleeve. “What did you just say about Su Mengrui?”

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything happened to her,” the student said, confused.

Chu Ziyan said: “I heard you mention her name.”

The student realized. “Oh! I was talking about the Confession Wall. Haven’t you seen it? Someone posted photos of her and an Alpha in the comments.”

“Wait… aren’t you guys really close? You didn’t know?”

Chu Ziyan let go. Inside her, something felt like a snapped rubber band.

Her deskmate, Gu Wenjing, felt her shoulder go light and looked back in confusion. Seeing Ziyan still standing on the landing, she fought her way back through the crowd. “What are you dazing out for? Let’s go.”

Chu Ziyan didn’t speak. Gu Wenjing huffed and grabbed her wrist to pull her forward. “Did the practice problems turn your brain to mush? Let’s get to the dorm.”

Chu Ziyan walked out of the Zhaixing Building woodenly, as if just reacting. She grabbed her deskmate’s hand. “Wenjing, have you seen the school’s Confession Wall?”

Gu Wenjing paused. She took a quick look at Ziyan’s expression, then turned toward the dorms. “No. Why?”

“You know. You’ve seen it,” Chu Ziyan said. She let go, raised her wrist to unlock her phone, exited power-saving mode, and found the QQ Zone.

After seeing the photo pinned to the very top of the comments, she backed out, found her “Starred” contact, and hit the call button.