After I Picked Up the Movie Queen Who Was Pretending to Be an Alpha - Chapter 22

Wei Jinzhi looked coldly at the male Alpha in front of her—decked out in a tailored suit, arrogant and insufferable. She sneered inwardly.

The male Alpha crossed his arms, his face dark as he asked, “Do you want to talk here?”

Although the complex wasn’t exactly bustling, there were still occasional passersby. Wei Jinzhi naturally didn’t want to be seen, so she lowered her eyes and said, “Let’s go inside.”

The two maintained a distance of about three or four meters, walking in one after the other. In the elevator, Wei Jinzhi stood in front with her back to the man, clearly feeling his simmering rage.

Once inside the apartment, the man let out a cold laugh. He scanned the surroundings and asked with a contemptuous smile, “What? Is the villa in Huaqing County really that uncomfortable to live in?”

“You just had to come to this dump.”

Standing in front of him, Wei Jinzhi frowned with displeasure at his words. She ignored him, took off her coat, and hung it up. She reached into the shoe cabinet for two pairs of slippers, changed into her own, and handed a pair to the male Alpha: “Change your shoes.”

She didn’t wait to see if he complied. She walked straight to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and then sat on the sofa. She beckoned to her Corgi in the corner, acting as if the person at the door didn’t exist.

Song Haoyuan’s anger surged. He stared at her, neither changing his shoes nor making a move to enter.

“Wei Jinzhi, how long are you going to keep acting out?”

“Who was that Alpha from a few days ago? Why were you fooling around with her?!”

“Do you have any idea—”

“I know. So, what are you going to do about it, President Song?”

The male Alpha, addressed as President Song, froze. He was clearly dissatisfied with the formal title. He yanked at his tie and roared at her, “President Song? Is that what you’re calling me now?”

“What else? Song Haoyuan?” Wei Jinzhi’s voice carried a trace of anger now. She looked back at him, her gaze as cold as a blade.

Song Haoyuan’s intended step forward halted. His chest heaved with fury, his eyes filled with disappointment toward her. Wei Jinzhi stared back. After a long standoff, a smile touched her lips—a smile that grew wider and colder, making the air turn frigid. “Song Haoyuan, can you please get out?”

Song Haoyuan was stunned. He looked at her in disbelief, incensed, but his voice softened slightly: “Next quarter’s investment from Yuefeng… do you not want it anymore?”

“Do as you wish.” Wei Jinzhi turned away, unwilling to even look at him. She picked up a piece of dried chicken from the coffee table and began teasing the little Corgi.

Song Haoyuan finally lost his temper completely. He growled, “Wei Jinzhi, you’ve really grown some wings. Have you forgotten that I can make you a top Movie Queen in this industry, but I can also make you leave?”

“Yes, I forgot long ago. I’ve forgotten everything.”

“If you want to kick me out of the industry, then go ahead and try,” Wei Jinzhi said slowly, wiping her hands with a wet wipe after feeding the dog.

Wei Jinzhi was not the same person she was ten years ago, and Song Haoyuan knew that. But seeing her like this made his blood boil. He let out a huff and slammed the door as he left.

The sound was so loud it made Wei Jinzhi flinch. The composure she had been forcing collapsed instantly. Her eyes turned red. She got up from the sofa and almost ran into the bathroom.

After locking the door, she slid down against it and curled up, hugging herself tight. Outside, the little Corgi didn’t understand its owner’s mood and followed her to the door, scratching lightly with its paws. Wei Jinzhi let out a frustrated thud against the door; once the scratching stopped, she let the tears fall freely.

The overwhelming sense of grievance felt like it would drown her. Later, she filled the bathtub with warm water, stripped off her clothes, and submerged herself completely. Warm water and tears became indistinguishable. It wasn’t until she couldn’t cry anymore that she poked her head out. Her soft curls were soaking wet, clinging to a face flushed from a lack of oxygen.

The grievance was gone, replaced by a silent, hollow laugh. She stepped out of the tub and stood naked before the mirror, taking herself in from top to bottom before donning a bathrobe and leaving the bathroom.

Her apartment was about 150 square meters—not small, but certainly no match for the villas in Huaqing County. But what could she do? Living in that villa made her feel oppressed and miserable; it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as here.

She walked barefoot to the kitchen and scanned the fridge. She hadn’t eaten anything all day except for half a bowl of wontons in the morning. She was starving, yet nothing looked appetizing. She closed the door and went to the wine cabinet. It was well-stocked with beautiful bottles—Vodka, Brandy… but the majority were fruit wines. Those were her choice. Yet today, after looking them over, she didn’t want to drink either.

Finally, she went back to the bedroom and lay under the covers with an empty stomach. Her phone sat by the pillow, lighting up occasionally in the dark. She didn’t look at it. She just closed her eyes. She was so tired.

Pei Suyuan met with Zheng Yi a few days later in a café at the base of the Zhongquan Building. It wasn’t far from Chi Real Estate; Zheng Yi had come to West Beijing to discuss a partnership with them.

Zheng Yi arrived first and ordered an Iced Americano for himself and a Latte for Pei Suyuan. He remembered she liked milk, so a Latte seemed like a safe bet. They arrived almost back-to-back.

It had been seven or eight years since they last saw each other, and Pei Suyuan felt uneasy. Zheng Yi wasn’t much better. Once she sat down, he said stiffly, “I remembered you liked milk. A Latte should be fine, right?”

Pei Suyuan nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Toward Zheng Yi, she felt nothing but an awkward lack of familiarity. Zheng Yi, however, was a mix of guilt, self-reproach, and unease. He looked much like his father—thick brows, large eyes, tall and sturdy—but he was young and dressed in sharp, elite attire. He had graduated from West Beijing University with a degree in architecture; the company was now transitioning under his lead from construction materials to real estate. He was here to discuss developing Lin City with Chi Real Estate.

They sat in silence for a long time before Zheng Yi spoke again: “My dad told me you signed with a new company?”

“Yes, Yuefeng. I’ll have more work from now on.”

Another silence. Zheng Yi took a sip of coffee, pulled out his phone, and showed her a photo of his daughter. “This is Qiqi, my daughter…”

The little girl was tiny, sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms. Pei Suyuan instinctively smiled. She loved children, especially girls. The topic finally broke the ice, and they chatted for a while. Zheng Yi sent her a few photos and invited her to visit the family next time she was in Lin City.

Once the mood lightened, Zheng Yi finally found the courage to speak of the past. “Xiao Yuan, the things in the past were all my fault. You…” He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say “don’t take it to heart.”

Pei Suyuan looked out the window. A few seconds later, she said softly, “It’s okay. It’s all in the past.”

“All in the past”—it was a simple phrase, but it couldn’t erase the damage Zheng Yi had caused her. Zheng Yi felt a deep sense of shame. He was only three years older than her; they had played well together when they were very small. When did he start hating her? Probably around age ten. He became cold, viewing her as a “wild child” coming to steal his parents’ love. Because he was older and a boy, his parents always asked him to yield to her.

The breaking point was middle school—rebellious and ignorant years. He had discovered the existence of Pei Jing. He saw how beautiful she was and how much she relied on his father, and he mistakenly assumed there was a scandalous secret between them. Later, at the amusement park, his father bought a cotton candy for the younger Pei Suyuan. He used that as a vent for his rage.

“You’re just like your mother, always stealing things from others.”

“Your mom stole my dad, and now you want to steal everything else? You’re just a bastard child!”

He hadn’t seen her for years after that, until he was forced to see her off at the train station when she went to university. That was when he realized the impact of his words. While his parents were away, a red-eyed Pei Suyuan told him: “I admired you growing up, but I never wanted to steal your parents. I have my own mother, and I am her treasure.”

Since then, it wasn’t that he disliked her, but rather that he avoided her out of guilt. Now, as a father, that guilt had only grown heavier.

“Suyuan, I’m sorry.” The man in his late twenties teared up, apologizing repeatedly.

Pei Suyuan understood. She had been an intruder in his family, taking the affection that “should” have been his. “It’s okay, really. It’s over… Cousin.”

At the word “Cousin,” Zheng Yi finally broke down and cried openly.

Before leaving, Pei Suyuan gave him the wedding gift she had prepared and a gift for the baby. Zheng Yi took the wedding gift but pushed the baby’s gift back. “Next time you’re in Lin City, give it to your niece yourself.”

He had left local specialties in the car and gave them to her when he dropped her off. “It’s all your favorites—ham, braised beef… They have a long shelf life. Share them with Yan Xin.”

Pei Suyuan invited him up, but he had a business dinner. They promised to meet again. She watched his car leave the complex before turning back.

She tried to call Yan Xin to tell her she had her share of the food, but remembered it was stream time and hung up. She went home, put her portion away, ordered delivery, and messaged Yan Xin that she was coming over. She brought fried chicken and beef rice.

When she entered, Yan Xin was finishing her stream. Smelling the food, Yan Xin ended early. Over drinks and Coke, Yan Xin leaned in mysteriously: “An influencer from another game wants to co-found a media company with me. I’m considering it.”

“With that smile on your face? Are you really ‘considering’ it?” Pei teased.

“Hehe, can’t hide anything from you! I was considering it, but today it’s settled!”

Yan Xin went on about the future of the company while Pei smiled along. It was good that both were moving forward. Then the topic drifted to the Lunar New Year. Knowing Yan Xin’s relationship with her parents was terrible, Pei asked if she was going home.

“That place is a home? No. I’ll stay in West Beijing and play games with my fans.”

Yan Xin’s parents were her adoptive parents in name, but her biological parents in reality. She was abandoned at the welfare home at age three and lived there until age twelve, when they “adopted” her. Years later, Yan Xin found out her mother had been a mistress who only brought her back once she had successfully replaced the original wife. It was like a soap opera.

Pei Suyuan never knew how to comfort her about it. She valued any time with her own mother, so she was conflicted. “Well, if you don’t go, let’s spend New Year together.”

“You? You aren’t going to Lin City?”

Remembering Pei Jing’s state, Yan Xin rested her chin on her hand. “You do what you have to do too.”

As Yan Xin drank more, she became more emotional. She started rambling about her college first love, and then suddenly started scolding Pei.

“Pei Suyuan, do you know how stupid you are? I’ve seen that ‘Sister Moon.’ I never thought she was as great as you said. You’ve been obsessed for fifteen years!”

They weren’t sisters, but their bond was deep. Back at the home, Zheng Xuncheng couldn’t show favoritism, so Pei and Yan had to fight for food among the other kids. Pei, though younger, developed faster and would always share her food with the smaller Yan Xin. Yan Xin had always relied on her, and Pei liked being someone she could rely on.

Yan Xin’s scolding was born of heartache. She leaned on Pei’s shoulder, her voice choking up. Pei was used to this. She could even predict the next sentence.

“Xiao Yuan-er, I’ve never met a better person than you. If I were an Omega, I’d stay with you forever.”

If I were a Beta, I’d stay with you too, Pei thought for her. Sure enough, Yan Xin hugged her and sobbed: “If I were a Beta, I’d stay with you too!!!”

“Who wants to be with you? I’d rather be alone for life,” Pei joked, pushing her away.

“Waaa, I want you…”

“Get lost!” Pei laughed.

Yan Xin pinched her face. “Xiao Yuan, smile more. It looks good on you. You’ll be happy. Many people will love you.”

“Xiao Xin, you’ll be happy too. Many people will love you.”

These were the words they used to encourage each other since they were kids. Pei had been feeling gloomy after seeing Zheng Yi, but Yan Xin’s rambling made her feel better. She realized she had come here just to be near someone.

As Yan Xin grew more drunk, she sat up suddenly. “Actually… the person in the game… I know who it is.”

“In the game? Xin Baby Carry Me?”

Yan Xin nodded piteously, then hugged Pei. “She’s a scumbag! A scumbag Omega! Xiao Yuan… she’s He Qinmian!”

She began listing He Qinmian’s “crimes.” Pei Suyuan found it familiar. This was the story of Yan Xin’s college first love—a girl she met through online gaming. At the time, Yan Xin described her as pure, cute, and sweet. They met in person, but broke up when Yan Xin found out the girl had a fiancé. Yan Xin had been devastated and never spoke of it again until now.

Pei Suyuan sighed. Yan Xin always advised her to move on, yet she was the one who couldn’t let go.

Pei thought about “Sister Moon.” Was she going to spend her life holding onto a vague dream? Maybe not. It was just a feeling she was used to—a source of warmth and security when she was lonely. But Yan Xin was right; she couldn’t even remember the person’s face.

“Sister Moon” was just a nickname; she didn’t even know her real name. It was just an emotional anchor. But that feeling was changing now. It was becoming clearer. It wasn’t a desperate longing anymore, just a familiar warmth.

She realized she was already starting to move on.