A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Apex

 

What was Yan Wei thinking?

 

From the moment they met, this question had been churning in Jiang Mi’s heart.

 

In the spacious nanny van, the occasional sound of flipping script pages rustled beside her. The spring breeze was exceptionally gentle, and Jiang Mi’s hair was blown across her face. She couldn’t help but speak: “Teacher Yan—”

 

Yan Wei turned her head but said nothing. Jiang Mi had a hunch—Yan Wei knew what she was about to ask. Jiang Mi had never liked playing hide and seek, not since she was a child. That’s why she was always the first one to be found.

 

“Is there something you want to say to me?”

 

Yan Wei shook her head.

 

“…” Jiang Mi: “Then…”

 

“Didn’t you say you’d do anything I asked?”

 

Jiang Mi slowly nodded. That probably wasn’t meant for situations like this, but it still counted.

 

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

 

“Sit.”

 

Jiang Mi thought she had misheard: “What?”

 

Yan Wei lowered her gaze to continue reading the script, her voice softer than the breeze: “Just sit like this.”

 

Every cell in her body seemed to light up in that moment. Jiang Mi’s gaze lightly landed on Yan Wei’s profile.

 

Like a treasure hunt, she felt as if she had discovered something—not real, but full of illusion. Her heartbeat gradually quickened, then slowly steadied again.

 

Up until yesterday, Yan Wei still seemed distant. All those words that kept people at arm’s length, the cold-and-hot behavior—impossible to predict. Jiang Mi realized she could no longer calmly accept Yan Wei’s aloofness. She, like everyone else, had started wanting something in return for her efforts. She had even felt awkward and frustrated.

 

But all of that was wrong—abnormal.

 

She was willingly kind to Yan Wei. So why should Yan Wei owe her anything in return?

 

Her self-reflection had gone quite smoothly up to this point.

 

Even in the elevator just moments ago, she believed her thoughts were flawless.

 

The problem came now.

 

Just as she had convinced herself, Yan Wei casually shattered her internal defenses with a single sentence.

 

She was left with nothing but a broken emotional buffer.

 

She couldn’t help wondering—should she feel joy right now? Was she even capable of it? Would this joy be taken away again soon, just like last time?

 

But that wasn’t the most important thing.

 

What mattered was—what was Yan Wei thinking right now?

 

What truly mattered was the terrifying and inescapable thought that suddenly bloomed in her mind:

 

For the first time, she felt certain that she was special to Yan Wei.

 

At least in this moment, she was different from the others on the crew.

 

She was different.

 

She should have felt incredibly honored and excited.

 

But in reality, the joy and warmth faded faster than she expected. What replaced them was a panic and confusion born of the unknown.

 

Jiang Mi withdrew her gaze: “Okay.”

 

Petals of spring peach blossoms swirled with dust and settled at the lowest point on the ground.

 

She said, “As long as you say so.”

 

Yan Wei’s lashes fluttered slightly.

 

She hated her own loss of control. But somehow, this made her feel a little better. She couldn’t think of a better solution right now. For the time being, her mood had improved.

 

She had returned to normal.

 

The page of the script beneath her fingertips was filled with lines. It had clearly been agitated in some way—its corners were wrinkled and torn, with deep, irreparable creases. She quietly smoothed the edge, as if it wasn’t her who had done the damage.

 

“Jiang Mi.”

 

“Hm?”

 

It seemed like Yan Wei was about to say something, but after that call, nothing followed. Jiang Mi fell silent. Strangely, she didn’t feel the usual urge to break the silence as she normally would.

 

She still liked and admired Yan Wei as always, but she had a feeling: they needed a bit of distance now.

 

…

 

Life on set was monotonous, day in and day out.

 

In the last two days of the month, the temperature suddenly rose. Spring’s 30 degrees Celsius was gentler than summer, but still a challenge for the crew.

 

During break time, Shen Ruoxi brought over drinks and a protein platter and flopped under the parasol next to Jiang Mi. The sun made people drowsy. The two chatted lazily. Ever since their last meal together, they had gotten closer, and their conversations became more casual.

 

“I don’t want to drink this—it’s not as good as the juice you made.” Shen Ruoxi sighed. “Ever since you stopped making juice for me, my mom says I don’t even drink water anymore.”

 

Jiang Mi: “…”

 

Yawning, she said, “I cooked those eggs too, and you were pretty happy eating them.”

 

Shen Ruoxi laughed heartily. “After tomorrow’s red carpet event, let’s go eat together. If you don’t go, it won’t be any fun.”

 

Jiang Mi: “You actually planned a dinner?”

 

“With who?” Shen Ruoxi whispered, “Can you tell me?”

 

“Apple.”

 

Just then, Zhao Jia walked over and handed Jiang Mi her phone, asking her to reply to a message from Jiang Youshu.

 

She also added, “You two better behave. Don’t start another scandal.”

 

Shen Ruoxi: “Oh~ Apple, huh? I really like her looks. Honestly, I thought you two were real back then. That photo—an A and an O, in the middle of the night—very romantic.”

 

Jiang Mi shrugged. “Everyone says that, but we really are just good friends.”

 

“That’s a shame.”

 

Jiang Mi glanced at her phone, something flickering in her eyes. She looked up and saw Yan Wei walking over from the monitors, Bai Qiu and another assistant carrying folding chairs behind her.

 

Shen Ruoxi: “Teacher Yan, come sit for a bit!”

 

No one expected it. Not even Shen Ruoxi, who had just casually asked—Yan Wei almost never participated in things like this.

 

Until the chair landed beside Jiang Mi, and Yan Wei sat down.

 

Shen Ruoxi: “…”

 

She exchanged a look with Jiang Mi and quickly typed a private message:
“What’s going on?”

 

Jiang Mi:
“You have a powerful aura.”

 

Shen Ruoxi:
“Could be true.”

 

Jiang Mi thought to herself: You’ve also got guts.

 

Zhao Jia set up another chair and looked between Yan Wei, Jiang Mi, and Shen Ruoxi, internally sighing: Can you please stop attracting attention?

 

Yan Wei opened her phone without a word.

 

Bai Qiu, knowing both Jiang Mi and Shen Ruoxi were easygoing, tried to break the ice. “What are you all chatting about?”

 

Shen Ruoxi: “Gossip. Not for kids.”

 

Bai Qiu: “Jiang Mi’s the youngest. She’s only 23—I’m two years older than her.”

 

Shen Ruoxi said casually, “Your Jiang Mi isn’t that young.”

 

Bai Qiu immediately caught the double meaning and didn’t dare look directly at Jiang Mi. Her face flushed red. Jiang Mi was used to Shen Ruoxi’s bluntness, but she shifted her gaze toward Yan Wei: “Shen Ruoxi, can you show a little restraint?”

 

Shen Ruoxi didn’t mind. “You know how I am.”

 

She used to maintain her public image, but now she didn’t even pretend in front of Jiang Mi anymore. She knew Jiang Mi didn’t care, so she acted naturally.

 

After speaking, she realized Yan Wei was right there too. She added, “I mean, 23 isn’t that young either.”

 

Jiang Mi thought to herself: Actually, I’m 24 this year.

 

Bai Qiu tried to say something else but glanced at Yan Wei. Despite the heat, her expression was icy, like a frozen cellar, making Bai Qiu lose the urge to speak.

 

Shen Ruoxi thought Bai Qiu was embarrassed and continued the conversation: “We were just talking about gossip. You’ve heard of the rumors between Jiang Mi and Teacher Apple, right?”

 

“I have, but that’s not real, right?”

 

“How do you know it’s not?”

 

“The photo and video just look like friendly comfort.”

 

“You can tell that?” Shen Ruoxi laughed.

 

Bai Qiu: “It’s different when you like someone.”

 

Jiang Mi wasn’t paying much attention. Her gaze drifted to Yan Wei, who hadn’t said a word but had an overwhelming presence. It was hard to ignore her.

 

And her expression didn’t look great either.

 

“Teacher Yan, are you tired?”

 

Yan Wei looked at her and replied, “I’m fine.”

 

Jiang Mi nodded. Shen Ruoxi resumed chatting with her, and she naturally turned to respond.

 

When she looked back again, Yan Wei was already standing.

 

Shen Ruoxi waved, “Bye-bye!”

 

Jiang Mi followed, “Talk later, Teacher Yan.”

 

“…”

 

Yan Wei’s steps paused. Suddenly, the sunlight felt blinding—more blinding than the face behind her.

 

She took a deep breath. This kind of anger that surged from within, one that needed physical pain to be soothed—she hadn’t felt it since the day she told Jiang Mi to get in the car.

 

That same cheerful and beautiful face still smiled at her in public, but never appeared in private anymore.

 

Jiang Mi was definitely pulling away.

 

Of course something was wrong.

 

As for what, she needed time to figure it out. For now, it would have to be like this.

 

Yan Wei left, and Bai Qiu quickly followed.

 

Shen Ruoxi patted her chest: “What level is she, anyway? Apex? I’m an S-class, but whenever I’m near her, I feel mentally suppressed. It’s scary.”

 

Jiang Mi looked away from Yan Wei’s back and agreed, “Same here.”

 

“You get nervous too?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

A mischievous smile crept onto Shen Ruoxi’s face. She joked, “You’d better be careful. I think Yan Wei’s an apex-level Omega, at least S+. You’re just a little Alpha. Her pheromones and mental power might crush you.”

 

Jiang Mi rubbed her sun-dazzled eyes and said, “You think you know everything…”

 

In truth, because of their compatibility, every time she got close, Yan Wei’s pheromones felt like a trap. Jiang Mi could control her mind—but not her body’s reactions.

 

If it were heat season, the scent of a top-level Omega could turn any Alpha into a starving slave.

 

She pressed her dry lips together—then quickly drank a mouthful of lemon water.

 

Shen Ruoxi continued chatting beside her: “Oh, by the way. DK’s culture has been kinda sketchy these past two years. At tomorrow’s event, don’t be too easygoing—people will try to take advantage of you.”

 

“Thank you,” Jiang Mi said seriously.

 

“Am I that easy to talk to?”

 

“Do you know what’s written on your face?”

 

“What?”

 

“‘Come bully me.'”

 

…

 

The next afternoon.

 

The annual red carpet event hosted by DK Magazine is a major platform where celebrities compete to make an appearance. Of course, the truly big shots invited personally by the organizers don’t count among them.

 

Jiang Mi, a veteran newcomer in the industry, would normally walk the red carpet early on, mostly just to test the sound system and warm up the venue. But this time, likely thanks to the Springtime drama team, the organizers bumped her up to a prime-time slot and even gave her a private dressing room.

 

The event was scheduled for 5 PM.

 

It wasn’t even 3 yet. After confirming her makeup and styling, all that was left was to wait.

 

In this industry, waiting was everyone’s greatest skill.

 

Zhao Jia went ahead to find the dressing room. Jiang Mi strolled leisurely down the corridor and only noticed as she neared the room that two or three high-profile influencers were nearby. One of them was livestreaming backstage under a staff member’s coordination. When she saw Jiang Mi, she greeted her warmly.

 

Jiang Mi smiled perfectly and stepped forward. As the influencer lowered her camera, Jiang Mi held the equipment steady and said, “It’s alright, if you don’t mind, I’d love to say hi to your fans too.”

 

The comment section exploded. Many people suddenly remembered—wasn’t this the unknown supporting actress who had trended for being cast opposite Yan Wei?

 

“??? She’s actually this gentle?”
“Help, her eyelashes are sparkling”
“Ahhhh she’s so sweet, looks nothing like her online pics!”

 

Jiang Mi casually ignored the hate comments and happily chatted a bit with the fans. “Thank you, thank you~ Sending hearts, peace signs~ Now that you’ve praised me, no more mean comments, okay?”

 

Her voice was sweet and playful, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Zhao Jia arguing with a staff member.

 

Jiang Mi slightly tilted the phone and continued chatting with the streamer. “Livestreaming seems kinda fun.”

 

“It is! Super fun. You should try it sometime,” the influencer replied.

 

Just then, a loud voice interrupted them.

 

“What do you mean, Teacher Qin Yao is using the room?” Zhao Jia stood not far down the hall, gripping the schedule tightly, her knuckles white. “Isn’t Jiang Mi’s name posted right on the door?”

 

“It was a mistake on our part,” the staff member said awkwardly. They thought Jiang Mi wasn’t a big enough name to care, but clearly, she wasn’t easily brushed off.

 

“Mistake? Answer my question properly.”

 

The creak of the door interrupted them.

 

Qin Yao leaned on the doorway in a silk gown, the stylist still tending to her hair with oil treatments behind her. “Sister Zhao? So sorry for occupying your room. I used this room at the last event too, I’m just used to it, so…”

 

“I just don’t get it,” Zhao Jia said. “You already landed the role in Twilight. With your current popularity, why do you keep making trouble for Jiang Mi?”

 

Qin Yao’s expression cooled. She wasn’t dumb—this wasn’t the time to start a real fight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Then her gaze landed sharply on Jiang Mi—and the phone in her hand.

 

Jiang Mi acted like she’d forgotten the phone was still livestreaming. She walked over, holding it up. “It’s alright. If Teacher Qin likes it, we can switch rooms.”

 

The livestream exploded again.

 

“Wait, Qin Yao stole the role in Twilight?”
“Weren’t her PR posts just dissing Jiang Mi’s figure yesterday? Looks like we have our answer.”
“Pan right! I want to see the camera!”

 

Qin Yao, realizing Jiang Mi might be livestreaming, instantly grabbed her wrist. “Just a joke! You’re really taking it seriously?”

 

She caught a glimpse of the phone screen, her perfectly made-up face twitching. Jiang Mi dared to set her up like this? Her nails nearly dug into Jiang Mi’s arm. “Mimi, I was just joking with Sister Zhao. I heard you didn’t have a makeup artist today, so I brought mine over to help you out.”

 

“Of course it was a joke. I mean, Teacher Qin wouldn’t actually fight me over a dressing room, right? But this room is closer to the stage… why don’t we switch?”

 

Qin Yao had been in the industry long enough to know that playing innocent too hard would look fake.

 

Just then, Jiang Mi suddenly “remembered” the livestream. “Oh! I totally forgot—I got so excited seeing Teacher Qin. I was just playing around with this girl’s livestream. Want to say hi to her fans?”

 

Qin Yao forced a smile and said to the comments, “Hello everyone, I’m Qin Yao.”

 

Jiang Mi added sweetly, “Don’t forget to watch Teacher Qin’s new drama Twilight, okay?”

 

Qin Yao barely held it together. “Thanks. I was just sitting in here earlier, maybe the staff thought I had switched rooms. Just don’t misunderstand me.”

 

“I won’t, Teacher Qin. You always think of me when you get good roles or opportunities. How could I possibly misunderstand you?”

 

Qin Yao’s smile froze. She turned and slammed the door behind her.

 

Everyone, including the staff, felt the awkwardness in the air. How could someone as careful as Qin Yao forget whether the room was soundproof?

 

Jiang Mi pretended not to hear the noise and smiled at the comments. “No sound? Oh, in Twilight, Teacher Qin plays a fencer. She’s really dedicated—just now she was practicing with her prop sword and accidentally knocked something over.”

 

The comment section burst into laughter.

 

“Why would she bring a sword to a red carpet event??”
“Didn’t she shut the door? How did you see that?”
“So she did steal the room, huh.”

 

Jiang Mi said seriously, “Why don’t you believe me? I’m telling the truth. Teacher Qin is very professional. She always brings her props with her. You’ll see when the drama airs.”

 

Inside the room, Qin Yao nearly cracked her rhinestone nails. Practicing fencing had exhausted her these past few days, and she had hoped to ask the director for a stunt double. Now Jiang Mi had completely sabotaged that.

 

Trying to trap me on a livestream? Fine.

 

“I won’t let her off.”

 

Her agent was working damage control while whispering, “Please, I told you, we shouldn’t have messed with her today if she’s getting this kind of placement. Let it go.”

 

“Let it go? After this? She’s got the same red carpet slot as me? A better room than mine? And DK—what the hell are they doing?”

 

“Let’s be honest. DK arranges things based on status. If her slot changed, either she’s gained market value, or she has a big backer. Either way, it’s not worth it to fight her anymore.”

 

“Oh, so we just let this slide?”

 

The agent saw how cold her face had turned and grew alarmed. “What are you planning? Please, don’t start anything today.”

 

…

 

After Qin Yao stormed off, Jiang Mi returned the phone to the stunned streamer, thanked her, and exchanged contact info.

 

Even though Qin Yao had composed herself quickly, her first few comments were already clipped and circulated. On real-time trending:
#QinYaoStealsRole
#ActressExposedMidLivestream
#TwilightDrama
#JiangMiLivestream
—these hashtags were climbing fast.

 

“Feel good?” Zhao Jia handed her a drink.

 

Jiang Mi remembered Shen Ruoxi’s earlier message:
“Qin Yao switched into your dressing room.”

 

If they hadn’t known in advance, they’d have just swallowed the insult. Sure, a 10k-view livestream wouldn’t rock the industry. PR teams would clean it up quickly, and Qin Yao would walk away fine.

 

But next time she’d think twice.

 

Jiang Mi drank the lemon water in one go, the cold sliding down her throat. “Yeah. Felt good. Also exhausting.”

 

She’d rather be on set than dealing with this kind of drama.

 

Zhao Jia was relieved. In the past, Jiang Mi wouldn’t have bothered with this. But today, something had changed.

 

“Get ready. The calls will start coming in.”

 

The company would surely respond soon.

 

Jiang Mi shrugged. “It’s fine. If anyone gives you trouble, use me as leverage. At least this time, they’ll have to talk to you respectfully. Tell them I’m in a bad mood and hard to handle. If they want my cooperation, they better respect you first.”

 

Zhao Jia’s nose tingled. She nodded.

 

She was used to playing politics for Jiang Mi’s sake.

 

Then Jiang Mi asked, “Do I still have ‘come bully me’ written on my face?”

 

Zhao Jia chuckled. “Why are you still hung up on what Shen Ruoxi said?”

 

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

 

“She doesn’t know you. That’s why she said it.”

 

Someone who could use one livestream to perfectly turn the tables, all based on a single tip-off? That wasn’t someone to mess with.

 

As the event neared, Zhao Jia joked to lift the mood. “Anyway, who could bully an alpha like you?”

 

Jiang Mi paused for a few seconds.

 

“I just didn’t want to be stepped on today.”

 

If she had stayed silent, everyone would think Jiang Mi was a pushover. She used to not care—but now she did.

 

She wasn’t weak. She had pride. She could fight back.

 

“Zhao Jia, I know you’ve endured a lot for me these past years. I’ll do better from now on. We’ll do better.”

 

Zhao Jia turned away, wiping her eyes. “We really owe Ruoxi this time.”

 

Jiang Mi: “Yeah. For sure.”

 

“Got your suppressant patch on?” Zhao Jia asked, brushing aside her hair and checking behind her ear. “I forgot your dress sash at the hotel. I’ll go get it and be back before the red carpet. Just remember to switch patches—stick it tight. No surprises today.”

 

“Of course. I always do.”

 

Before her heat cycles, one patch per day was enough. On the day it started, she’d take a suppressant injection. No issues—ever.

 

…

 

“That supporting actress of yours is pretty interesting. Event hasn’t even started, and she’s already trending.”

 

Yan Wei looked up from her phone. Surui sat across from her.

 

“Some influencer livestreamed her and Qin Yao fighting over a dressing room. It’s blowing up right now.”

 

A few seconds of Jiang Mi’s voice echoed from the phone.

 

Yan Wei could already picture her soft, harmless smile, the way her voice dripped like honeyed milk.

 

She idly rubbed her fingers. She’d never seen Jiang Mi lose her temper. But now she wondered—what did she look like when she snapped?

 

She’d sort of seen it.

 

That night Jiang Mi followed her drunk into her room, the alpha’s aggression had flared—but she’d still been too soft, too obedient. She hadn’t even dared finish a fake kissing scene.

 

But Yan Wei kept thinking about that night.

 

She could usually visualize any character in her mind with perfect clarity. But when it came to imagining how Jiang Mi would react to learning her idol wasn’t what she seemed… she couldn’t picture it.

 

Would she feel afraid, remembering she followed a stranger into her room?

 

Would she show fear when she saw her idol’s true nature?

 

The phone screen dimmed after too long without input.

 

Yan Wei felt unsettled—but curious.

 

Bai Qiu added, “I heard Qin Yao’s always picking on Mi-mi.”

 

Surui glanced at her—Yan Wei didn’t usually like people speaking out of turn. But Yan Wei didn’t seem annoyed.

 

She checked the time and said, “PR will handle it. We arranged that dressing room as a favor. It won’t affect you.”

 

Yan Wei didn’t respond. She just stood up.

 

Surui checked her watch again. They still had plenty of time—red carpet arrivals hadn’t peaked yet.

 

Celebrities, actors, businesspeople—by the time you reached Yan Wei’s level, you didn’t need to accommodate anyone.

 

But as she looked again at the time…

 

Was it just coincidence? That they’d be arriving right when that girl hit the red carpet?