After I Picked Up the Movie Queen Who Was Pretending to Be an Alpha - Chapter 9

Pei Suyuan fled almost at a dead run. By the time she returned to the South District and sat inside her little Polo, her hands were still trembling slightly.

After taking a good while to steady herself, she finally drove off. She left the complex and found the nearest gas station to fill up. While waiting, she sent a WeChat message to Yan Xin, saying she was heading back to Lin City for a while and wasn’t sure when she’d return.

Pushing the pedal to the floor, Pei Suyuan drove south. West Beijing wasn’t that far from Lin City—about a two-hour drive—but she was in too much of a hurry. She felt desperate to get there this very second. She even considered taking the high-speed rail when she passed the station; the train only took thirty minutes compared to the three-hour drive, but by the time she dealt with transfers at both ends, it wouldn’t make much difference. So, she dismissed the idea and continued her dash toward Lin City.

She arrived in Lin City near midnight. Pei Suyuan parked and entered the Lin City Stability Hospital. In front of the ward, a male Alpha in his fifties was waiting for her. Seeing her, he hurried over to meet her.

Drenched in sweat from anxiety, Pei Suyuan grabbed his arm and asked, “Director Zheng, Uncle, my mom… how is she?”

Zheng Xuncheng’s face was grim. He turned his head away, unable to look at her, and said, “She… fell back asleep.”

A few hours ago, Pei Suyuan’s mother, Pei Jing, had regained lucidity. The hospital immediately contacted Zheng Xuncheng. When he arrived, Pei Jing had held onto him, desperately asking for Pei Suyuan. He knew she drifted in and out of clarity and thought this was just another brief window, but her plea was so urgent that he called Pei Suyuan.

However, an hour ago—while Pei Suyuan was still on the road—Pei Jing had “fallen back asleep.” This didn’t mean literal sleep; it meant she was no longer lucid.

With a heavy thud, Pei Suyuan practically collapsed against the wall, gasping for air. Her body wasn’t physically exhausted, but two hours of intense mental focus and desperate hope had left her drained. She stared at the ward door, her eyes brimming with tears.

Zheng Xuncheng felt a pang of pity and took her hand. Words felt hollow. Pei Suyuan hadn’t spoken to her mother in years. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but that her mother was unable to talk to her. Each year, the condition worsened. When she was a child, her mother would be lucid for a few days every month; later, it became every few months; and now, it had been years.

How do you cure schizophrenia? Pei Suyuan didn’t know; she only felt an overwhelming weariness.

Zheng Xuncheng patted her head and asked, “Do you want to go home? Tomorrow, we’ll come together to pick up your mother.”

Pei Jing didn’t live in the psychiatric hospital permanently, but she had to return for regular medication and treatment. Without the hospital’s structure to keep her in check, she wouldn’t follow her regimen, and her symptoms would relapse—getting worse each time.

She doesn’t want to get better. The thought surfaced again. Her mother didn’t want to be cured; she wanted to stay in her own world. Every time she was lucid, she did nothing but apologize, apologize, and apologize to Pei Suyuan.

Feeling powerless, Pei Suyuan leaned her head on Zheng Xuncheng’s shoulder—the shoulder that had provided her with infinite support since she was a child. She sobbed, “Let’s go home. We’ll go home and bring Mom back.”

Pei Suyuan and Pei Jing’s “home” was the welfare home (orphanage). Zheng Xuncheng was the director there. But Pei Suyuan had a mother; she wasn’t an orphan. The true orphan was Pei Jing.

After giving birth to Pei Suyuan, Pei Jing’s mental state deteriorated. She returned from Yunzhou to Lin City. No one knew what had happened to her; she simply handed Pei Suyuan over to Zheng Xuncheng, who had grown up with her, and locked herself away in a dilapidated old building on the welfare home’s grounds.

At that time, Zheng Xuncheng wasn’t the director yet. He was a child adopted by the previous director—an orphan himself. In a strict sense, Pei Jing was an orphan too, which was why Pei Suyuan called Zheng Xuncheng “Uncle.”

Until she was four or five, Pei Suyuan was cared for by the welfare home’s nannies and the old director. The only thing that distinguished her from the other orphans was that Zheng Xuncheng would occasionally take her to his house on weekends. Back then, she didn’t know Pei Jing was her mother; she only knew there was a “crazy woman” in the old building.

It wasn’t until the “crazy woman” had an episode, rushed into a group of children, and hugged Pei Suyuan tightly, affectionately calling her “Xiao Yuan, Mama’s baby,” that Pei Suyuan realized she actually had a mother.

None of the other kids in the home had mothers, but she did. She cherished every moment spent with Pei Jing, despite her being “crazy” and only occasionally lucid.

On the drive back, Zheng Xuncheng took the wheel while Pei Suyuan sat in the passenger seat, watching the night of Lin City pass by. It was much dimmer than West Beijing, but it was comforting. After shifting in her seat a few times, she finally asked, “How is Auntie doing…?”

Zheng Xuncheng’s wife had been his college classmate, and they were once an enviable couple. However, a few years ago, his Omega wife, Wang Qian, was in a car accident that resulted in the amputation of both her legs. She now lived in the newly built nursing home next to the welfare center.

Zheng Xuncheng turned the steering wheel and smiled. “She’s doing well. She’s been thinking about you, always asking when you’d be back.”

Pei Suyuan blinked, looking down. “After we pick up Mom, I want to see Auntie. Is it convenient?”

“Of course! It’s always convenient!” Zheng Xuncheng knew his niece’s personality better than anyone. Though he had tried his best to care for her, he was young and busy with his career back then. It was only after his father, the old director, passed away that he took over the home. He spent twenty years striving in business and the next twenty giving back to the place that raised him.

He used to be in the construction materials business and was quite well-known in Lin City. His wife took over the business until the accident, after which they both retired and handed the business to their son.

His son, Zheng Yi, didn’t actually like Pei Suyuan very much. When Pei Suyuan asked if it was “convenient,” she was really asking if Zheng Yi would be there. If he was, she wouldn’t go.

Receiving the answer, she nodded silently and turned her gaze back to the window. When they reached the welfare home, she got out and thanked Zheng Xuncheng. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.

Pei Suyuan waited for a moment. Seeing he wasn’t speaking, she said, “Uncle, I’m going to sleep. You should rest too.”

He nodded, but before she stepped inside, he called out, “Xiao Yuan.”

She turned back, confused. Zheng Xuncheng sighed, walked over, and smoothed her hair—a gesture he had done since she was a child. The tension she’d carried since the phone call finally began to dissolve.

“Your cousin has matured now,” Zheng Xuncheng said as he pulled his hand back. “He’s going to West Beijing for business soon, and he even asked me about you.”

Zheng Yi was also an Alpha, a few years older than Pei Suyuan. They had never gotten along. Zheng Yi hadn’t even invited her to his wedding last year; she had prepared a gift but never found the chance to send it. She knew Zheng Xuncheng was likely just being polite—he had spent years trying to fix the relationship between them.

But Pei Suyuan didn’t force these things. Having lacked many emotions since birth, she didn’t harbor resentment; she was simply very detached from it all. However, she remembered and cherished the kindness of Zheng Xuncheng and Wang Qian. But Zheng Yi…

“Xiao Yuan, Uncle is a grandfather now. Your sister-in-law gave birth to a daughter a few months ago. She’s very cute. Your cousin even said he should find a chance for her to meet her aunt.”

Pei Suyuan’s eyes widened, but before she could speak, Zheng Xuncheng continued, “Xiao Yi… he was spoiled by me and your aunt growing up. Marriage and fatherhood have changed him. Don’t hold it against him. Also, he knows you donated the funds for the nursing home, and he’s very grateful. He was just too thin-skinned to say it, but he’s found some courage this time.”

The nursing home had been built a few years ago. Back when Pei Suyuan first came into some money, she used a small portion for her apartment and the vast majority to build the nursing home. Her original intent was to let Pei Jing move out of the old building and live more comfortably. But as fate would have it, Wang Qian moved in as well.

Zheng Xuncheng had thanked her many times. She would always say she just wanted her mother to be comfortable, and he would always reply, “Your aunt is comfortable too, and she’s close to me, so I can see her every day.”

A sense of relief washed over Pei Suyuan. Being recognized felt good. She smiled shyly and said to Zheng Xuncheng with an affectionate, complaining tone, “Uncle, you didn’t even tell me my niece was born. I should have prepared a gift. And the wedding gift for my cousin, I still haven’t given it…”

Zheng Xuncheng laughed. “Then should I have your cousin come over tomorrow too?”

“No, no… Cousin is busy with business. Another day.” Pei Suyuan waved her hands hurriedly. Although she felt the olive branch through her uncle’s words, she wasn’t ready to face Zheng Yi yet. She was nervous.

Walking upstairs, her steps felt much lighter. The usual suffocating oppression she felt when returning to Lin City was suppressed by this newfound sense of peace.

She returned to her room and did a quick wash before lying down. This room was her first independent space, given to her when she was fifteen. It was tiny, with just a bathroom and a bed—it had actually been Pei Jing’s room when she was young. During those years, a lucid Pei Jing would come here to stay with her. To Pei Suyuan, this was her true “home.”

It should have been comfortable, but she couldn’t fall asleep. Feeling restless, she pulled out her phone to check the time and saw two WeChat notifications.

The first was from Yan Xin: [Okay, remember to let me know if anything happens.]

The second was a friend request. The avatar was a Corgi, and the name was simple: W.

It took her exactly one second to realize who it was. But she didn’t do anything. She didn’t even exit WeChat; she simply locked the screen and went to sleep.