A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Door Lock

“You’re back, Teacher Yan?”

If one is sensitive enough, they can detect a shift in someone’s demeanor—even when everything appears outwardly the same. Jiang Mi’s face wore a smile, her eyes bright despite the night, and her tone remained cheerful as always, yet Yan Wei could sense something had changed.

What was it exactly? A sense of distance, retreat… sadness?

Yan Wei approached. Before she could speak, Jiang Mi smiled and said, “Auntie and Mo Xi will definitely be happy to know you’re back. I’m really sorry for causing trouble at your home today. I won’t bother you anymore. Goodbye, Teacher Yan.”

Jiang Mi smiled as she walked past Yan Wei.

“They said that?”

Jiang Mi turned back. “What?”

Yan Wei: “That they’d be happy I’m back.”

Jiang Mi hesitated, recalling what Mo Xi had said. She didn’t mention Mo Yun: “Mo Xi misses you a lot.”

Silence fell between them.

After a moment, Yan Wei’s lips curled into a quiet, cold smile. Her voice, as always, was chilly as she said, “Go home.”

Jiang Mi pressed her lips together. “Teacher Yan.”

Then, she asked the question that had been on her mind for a long time:

“Do you really hate me?”

Under her mask, Yan Wei’s cold and indifferent expression wavered slightly. After a pause, she replied, “Not really.”

Just not really.

Not I don’t hate you.

Jiang Mi felt a sting, like onion skin brushing the tip of her nose—subtle but unpleasant. Still, her expression didn’t change. She smiled slightly and nodded. “It’s cold out here. You should head in, Teacher Yan.”

This time, she made a little farewell gesture.

She left more quickly than she’d arrived—faster than any of her previous departures.

Yan Wei stood where she was, watching Jiang Mi’s figure fade into the dim evening. Her eyes darkened. A strange, unfamiliar emotion stirred inside her—it wasn’t satisfying. Did she want to say something more? Or hope Jiang Mi would?

She wasn’t sure.

…

Jiang Mi hailed a cab and headed straight back to the hotel.

The night wind outside the car was chilly, but she couldn’t bear to close the window. The stale, smoke-filled air inside was even more suffocating.

Messages from the group chat kept popping up.

Zhou Shanshan had tagged her several times, saying a friend had gotten their hands on fresh Australian lobsters and sent some to everyone. Jiang Mi’s share had been shipped to Jin City, under the name of her mother, Jiang Youshu.

Jiang Mi: “Thanks, rich lady.”

Shanshan: “Anytime, love ya.”

Jiang Mi: “Scram.”

Shanshan: “Okay~”

Shanshan: “What’s Jiang-jie been up to? Haven’t heard from her in a while. Did she move?”

Jiang Mi: “She has too many homes. Who knows?”

Jiang Hu: “…”

Shanshan: “Are you kidding me? I’ve been messaging all day and you ignore me—but Jiang Mi sends one message and you reply?!”

Two seconds later, Jiang Hu replied: “Just saw it.”

Shanshan was even more pissed: “You’ve used that excuse 800 times! Literally 800!”

Watching the two bicker like a comedy duo, Jiang Mi’s heavy heart felt a little lighter.

Jiang Hu was adopted by Jiang Youshu when Jiang Mi was ten—three years older than her. Since they’d met when they weren’t all that young, and Jiang Hu had always been bold and unruly (she’d basically fought her way through every neighborhood kid), their relationship was… rocky. At 15, Jiang Hu differentiated as an Omega, and her temper worsened. Only Jiang Youshu could really control her.

Jiang Mi had never called her “sister.”

Still, they’d grown up together. Despite all the fights, they were bonded through the same mom. It was… tolerable.

She watched the group chat scroll up, the conversation vivid like her friends were speaking beside her. Jiang Mi found herself missing them. Missing Jiang Youshu. Even Jiang Hu.

Switching from the group chat, she sent Jiang Youshu a message. Then, recalling Apple hadn’t spoken much lately either, she sent her a private message as well:

“Busy lately?”

But her message felt like a stone dropped into a well—no response for a long time.

She turned her eyes back to the window. The brief moment of ease she’d felt quietly slipped away. Her head leaned against the glass, hat pulled down low over her face, revealing only her tightly pressed lips.

She’d told herself she didn’t need anything in return—but why did it hurt so much?

…

After 10 p.m.

Mo Xi’s advisor had been keeping her busy with research, but she’d managed to get a rare day off. Now she was begging Yan Wei to stay and chat with her in the living room.

Mo Yun had already returned to the villa, so only the two of them remained.

“Jie, you really don’t want dinner? Aren’t you hungry?”

Yan Wei replied with a quiet “Mm.” Her eyes fell on the table by the wall. A vase held fresh lilies and calla lilies—flowers that neither Mo Yun nor Mo Xi would ever buy.

She drifted into thought. Mo Xi’s chatter barely registered.

“What do you think of Sister Jiang Mi? It must be fun filming with her, right? She has such a great personality.”

Yan Wei had heard this question too many times.

“She’s okay.”

Mo Xi said, “She told me she really enjoys working with you.”

Yan Wei didn’t respond.

“I even asked if you had a kissing scene,” Mo Xi giggled. “Her reaction was so cute.”

Yan Wei raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What kind of reaction?”

“She got all shy, ears turned red, worried Mom would hear. Don’t you think she’s really pure? Like… you just feel comfortable around her. It’s hard not to be drawn in. Do you ever feel that way?”

Yan Wei locked her phone and bent down to pick up a glass of red wine. “No.”

Mo Xi shrugged. “She even fixed your study door lock. I wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t said anything. I think she’s genuinely a good person.”

Yan Wei’s hand paused on the wineglass, as if a wave of scalding seawater had crashed against her feet, heat prickling her skin.

She glanced down the hallway, then finished the wine in one gulp.

The slight bitterness of the red wine burst across her tongue. The corners of her lips curled with a faint, sardonic smile.

She thought of the expression on Jiang Mi’s face when she left. The irritation she felt because of her wasn’t even new anymore.

Yan Wei stood up and said, “Go to sleep.”

“Jie,” Mo Xi sat cross-legged on the sofa, tilting her head up. “Mom and I both really like Jiang Mi-jie. Can we invite her over again next time?”

Yan Wei froze.

Her expression suddenly shifted—subtle but stormy. She narrowed her eyes. “You really think Mom likes Jiang Mi?”

Mo Xi immediately grew nervous. This was the version of Yan Wei she feared most. Her smile faltered, and she sat up straight, voice cautious: “Jie…”

Yan Wei fell silent. After a long pause, the heavy tension dispersed.

She laughed softly. “What are you afraid of?”

The door to the study soon shut behind her.

Yan Wei stood at the entrance. Her fingertips brushed along the door lock, pausing at the deadbolt. She could almost picture Jiang Mi rolling up her sleeves, bending over the mechanism with focused concentration.

She licked her dry lips and looked toward the script on her desk. Wind from the window rustled its pages, echoing faintly like the night a few days ago—

Scene 3: Fitting room. Qin Shui kisses Liang Yongping’s neck. Yongping is restrained, resisting… Yongping grabs Qin Shui’s waist firmly. (Close-up)

The word “firmly” in the last line had been circled in red pen by the Alpha.

Underneath, she’d written: Don’t be too rough.

Then later, she’d carefully crossed it out.

Yan Wei closed her eyes, curling her fingers. Her index finger pressed into the center of her palm, sometimes lightly, sometimes hard.

But truthfully, she liked it more when Jiang Mi was rough.