A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Sandpaper

 

The blue glow of the weather forecast faded from the phone screen. Jiang Mi leaned against the car window. Wisps of cloud shadows fell on the windshield, but the sky didn’t look particularly gloomy.

 

Traffic curved along the main road bend. The scenery looked just like when she first arrived in Huaicheng. The difference was that in just over a month, the greenery had matured and no longer bore the tender colors of early growth.

 

Jiang Mi bit her straw, not really drinking her soy milk, just stirring the bottom playfully. Zhao Jia teased her: “I’ve noticed every time you’re about to shoot a kiss scene with Yan Wei, you start acting all weird.”

 

Jiang Mi: “……”

 

It was strange—she hadn’t been consciously thinking about her, but somehow, Yan Wei always managed to slip into her mind.

 

Jiang Mi shot Zhao Jia a mock-annoyed look, scolding her for overthinking: “Actually, I’m more worried about Apple. She was really out of it last night.”

 

Zhao Jia turned to her. “What happened?”

 

She’d held the iced water bottle so long condensation had fogged it up. When she wiped the droplets away, Jiang Mi couldn’t help but think of Apple crying at the dinner table last night.

 

“It’s personal, so I won’t go into it. But I wanted to ask—if she wants to terminate her contract with Chen Qiao, is that even possible?”

 

“That depends on the contract.”

 

Zhao Jia recalled Chen Qiao’s reputation. Just like actors had their own circles, managers did too. To be honest, Chen Qiao’s name wasn’t spoken of highly. Her work ethic was messy, opportunistic even. But what really made people wary was her lack of scruples.

 

“She’s been in this industry for years and knows contracts inside out. To put it bluntly… Mi Mi, if Apple really wants to leave, it’s practically impossible.”

 

Jiang Mi sighed deeply, staring out the window. The wind blowing in gently rustled her hair.

 

“Well, we still have to try.”

 

“This involves two people. Are you sure Apple really wants to leave?”

 

Zhao Jia warned, “I suggest you observe her a bit longer. What if it’s just a fight and they patch things up in a few days? Then you’ll end up in an awkward position.”

 

Jiang Mi nodded. She wasn’t trying to meddle, and she knew Zhao Jia was right. She just wanted to plan ahead for Apple’s sake.

 

She said, “I’ve never seen Apple like that before.”

 

“If—and I mean if—she really wants to terminate her contract and is willing to face the consequences, then when the time comes, if you want to help her, we’ll figure something out. I won’t hold back.”

 

Zhao Jia placed a comforting hand on Jiang Mi’s arm. “We’re almost at the set. What you need to do now is focus on your work. You know how important today’s scene is.”

 

Jiang Mi nodded. The damp wind carried a hint of iron, that pre-rain smell that filled her lungs.

 

Yes, nothing could go wrong in today’s scene.

 

Because she had failed this scene many, many times before.

 

And today, she couldn’t lose to Yan Wei again.

 

She glanced at the time and sent a message to Apple:

 

“Good morning~ Get up and have a warm breakfast! The weather’s amazing today—I’m so happy!”

 

Not long after, Apple replied:

 

“Good morning, Mi Mi.”

 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.”

 

“You take care too. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

 

…

 

It was only a little past 7 when they arrived at the set.

 

The early morning chill lingered, but the air was crisp and clear, different from any other time of day. It sobered the mind instantly.

 

Jiang Mi and Zhao Jia headed to the dressing room together. Just as they reached the door, a noise came from next door.

 

Instinctively, she looked over and saw Bai Qiu coming out, red-eyed.

 

Their gazes met. Jiang Mi paused. After the door shut behind Bai Qiu, she asked in a low voice, “What happened?”

 

Though Bai Qiu had wiped away her tears, her expression was still visibly upset. “I was fired.”

 

“What?” Jiang Mi and Zhao Jia both looked shocked.

 

Bai Qiu felt wronged. She couldn’t accept that such a minor mistake had cost her the job. When Surui told her yesterday, she had been completely blindsided. She had no idea what had gone wrong—she thought everything had been going well.

 

Later, Surui asked if she had done something to upset Yan Wei. She couldn’t think of anything. She barely slept all night. Then at dawn today, she suddenly remembered—

 

Before a shoot the other day, Yan Wei had handed her a small trinket to hold onto. She remembered carefully putting it in her bag. But after filming, when Yan Wei asked for it back, it was gone.

 

Yan Wei hadn’t said anything at the time…

 

This morning, Bai Qiu came early to explain herself, to say it wasn’t intentional—she really valued and loved this job.

 

But after hearing her out, Yan Wei had only said calmly: “If you’re done, please leave.”

 

Bai Qiu didn’t explain all that to Jiang Mi. She just sniffled and said, “I lost something of Ms. Yan’s. It’s my fault.”

 

“What was it?” Zhao Jia, who had gotten to know Bai Qiu a little, asked, “Where did you lose it? Maybe we can still find it.”

 

Bai Qiu shook her head. “It’s been days. It was a tiny item—it’s probably long gone.”

 

Jiang Mi’s nerves tensed. “What did it look like?”

 

“I don’t remember clearly. Just a small trinket,” Bai Qiu murmured. “I searched the set too, but couldn’t find it. Mi Mi, thank you for taking care of me lately. I probably won’t see you much anymore. I wish you all the best.”

 

She didn’t want anyone to see her like this—ashamed and embarrassed.

 

Bai Qiu walked past Jiang Mi toward the exit. Jiang Mi started to say something, but Zhao Jia cleared her throat and ushered her into the dressing room.

 

The door shut.

 

Zhao Jia said, “What are you doing? You can’t get involved in Yan Wei’s affairs.”

 

“I’m not trying to.” Jiang Mi sighed helplessly.

 

But she couldn’t help wondering—could that little trinket be the same one she had given Yan Wei?

 

If it was, then it meant her gift hadn’t been thrown away on purpose or lost by Yan Wei herself…

 

Jiang Mi took a deep breath. The heavy stuffiness in her chest—like a balloon on the verge of bursting—slowly began to deflate.

 

“By the way,”

 

Zhao Jia interrupted her thoughts, “About that anti-fan situation—Surui said DK will handle it. We don’t need to interfere.”

 

“How are they handling it? I heard the person’s underage?” Jiang Mi asked, snapping out of her thoughts.

 

Zhao Jia shook her head. “Didn’t say. I’ll check again today. But honestly, as unlucky as that incident was for you, it might’ve been a blessing in disguise. I heard Qin Yao’s team is having a meeting to deal with it. Someone tipped me off that they’re planning to terminate her contract. I’m guessing Yan Wei applied pressure—otherwise the company wouldn’t act so fast and so ruthlessly toward a cash cow. And have you seen your Weibo? You gained over 10,000 followers overnight. All I can say is, you’ve found yourself a benefactor.”

 

Even though she had doubts about Yan Wei’s intentions and thought her relationship with Jiang Mi might not be entirely beneficial, she couldn’t deny the perks of being connected to someone powerful.

 

No matter how hard they worked, they might never achieve such results on their own.

 

She said, “Should we treat Yan Wei to a meal?”

 

Jiang Mi: “……”

 

“You don’t want to? Or do you think it’s inappropriate?”

 

“No, geez,” Jiang Mi said, “Don’t you think we’ve got way too many dinners to treat lately?”

 

They still owed Shen Ruoxi one, after all.

 

Zhao Jia: “Isn’t Yan Wei your big sis? Back then, you hid it from me—‘just a neighbor’ you said.”

 

Jiang Mi retorted, “If I’d known she was that neighbor, back then—”

 

“Back then what?” Zhao Jia squinted, looking like she wouldn’t let it go.

 

But Jiang Mi suddenly shut her mouth, turning to look out the window. “Nothing.”

 

If she’d known Yan Wei was that neighbor, maybe she would’ve been more careful when they first met. Maybe she wouldn’t have offended her right away. Maybe everything after that would’ve gone more smoothly between them.

 

Zhao Jia saw she wasn’t going to spill the truth and shrugged. “Fine. But tell me—how did you end up owing so many people favors… You know what, maybe we should just have one big dinner and be done with it.”

 

She paused, then grew more enthusiastic. “Actually, that’s a good idea. A group dinner would help build rapport, and we wouldn’t have to worry about scandals if we got photographed.”

 

It was practical, but not particularly sincere. Plus, organizing it would be tough.

 

“A bit too crowded, don’t you think?” Jiang Mi said. “And not very respectful. People might think we’re just trying to save trouble.”

 

“You dummy,” Zhao Jia rolled her eyes. “What if you invite them separately and get caught? What would the crew or fans think? They’d think you’re playing everyone.”

 

She added, “Ruoxi’s easygoing, and her fans know what she’s like. But Yan Wei’s fans? They already disapprove of you being the second lead. One slip, and you’ll get flamed.”

 

It would be best to wait until the show aired, and people saw Jiang Mi’s performance. Once opinions shifted, a one-on-one dinner would be easier to explain.

 

“But don’t overthink it,” Zhao Jia added. “If Yan Wei says no, then we can skip the whole thing anyway.”

 

“Having a meal is really such a hassle.”

 

But Jiang Mi hadn’t planned on having a meal alone with Yan Wei anyway, so she was fairly agreeable to Zhao Jia’s suggestion. However… would Yan Wei agree to go eat with her and Shen Ruoxi?

 

“Well, we’ll see when the time comes then.”

 

…

 

After changing clothes and finishing her makeup, the stage assistant knocked on the door. Jiang Mi pressed her lips together in the mirror, adjusting the final details. When she opened the door, she instinctively glanced at the tightly shut door next to hers.

 

As she turned to leave, a few steps out, she heard the assistant’s call and the sound of the door next to her opening.

 

She paused but resisted turning back, keeping her eyes forward and continuing with steady steps. The low thuds of “Liang Yongping’s” short-heeled shoes echoed.

 

Then came Zhao Jia’s cheerful greeting behind her:
“Good morning, Teacher Yan! Thank you so much for yesterday. I wanted to thank you in person earlier, but you looked busy, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

 

Realizing Yan Wei was behind her, Jiang Mi turned her head—without warning, her eyes met Yan Wei’s misty gaze. The polite lines she’d prepared caught in her throat.

 

She recovered quickly, her smile just right:
“Good morning, Teacher Yan. Morning, Surui.”

 

Yan Wei looked at her for two seconds. The curve of her lips was harder to read than today’s weather. Her white trench coat brushed the dark golden embroidery of her cheongsam as she slowly approached, bringing with her the cold scent of brandy and a sense of pressure.

 

“Good morning, Jiang Mi.”

 

Jiang Mi: “…”

 

Just like several times before, she felt a chill down her spine.

 

She decided to keep the thank-you words unspoken and maintained her smile, bracing herself for Yan Wei’s approach.

 

Their shadows finally stood side by side on the floor tiles.

 

The early morning breeze floated gently, and the rose fragrance in the air seemed stronger than usual. Jiang Mi took a shallow breath:
“Teacher Yan, thank you so much for yesterday. If there’s anything I can do for you in the future, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

 

The first part was sincere. The second part—less so, just polite, since she knew Yan Wei wouldn’t really need her help.

 

Basically, she was trying to pretend yesterday in the DK restroom never happened.

 

Yan Wei glanced sideways at her:
“So many promises. Aren’t you afraid of getting tied down?”

 

A thud came from the set, signaling filming. Jiang Mi replied,
“It’s genuine. I really appreciate it.”

 

Everything Jiang Mi had, Yan Wei also had. What Jiang Mi lacked, Yan Wei still had. And besides, she sold skills, not her body—so aside from this kind of promise, she had nothing to offer Yan Wei.

 

Yan Wei looked at her:
“Anything else?”

 

Jiang Mi looked down:
“Also, I heard from Zhao Jia about the company and the anti-fans. Thank you for that too.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“What else?” Jiang Mi tilted her head slightly away from Yan Wei’s perfect profile.
“Teacher Yan, like what?”

 

Yan Wei stared at her for a few seconds, then curled her lips slightly without answering. She knew Jiang Mi understood exactly what she meant. Jiang Mi was clearly keeping her distance.

 

She didn’t mind.

 

Because Jiang Mi didn’t know—she no longer had a choice.

 

Not since Jiang Mi insisted on stepping into her world.

 

She had warned her.

 

Jiang Mi had been the one to barge in.

 

Now that she was interested, ending the game was no longer up to Jiang Mi.

 

Jiang Mi was doing it on purpose. How to describe it… she felt like she was discovering a side of Yan Wei she’d never seen before. Yan Wei still looked cold, but when she met her eyes, Jiang Mi wasn’t scared anymore.

 

She felt like she was succeeding.

 

Like she was close to finding what mattered to Yan Wei.

 

Like she was really beginning to understand Yan Wei.

 

And then there was Bai Qiu’s resignation.

 

She felt it was a pity, and maybe a bit excessive. But when she realized it might’ve been because of that small ornament that Yan Wei blamed Bai Qiu, she felt more than guilt and nervousness—she felt a trace of satisfaction.

 

Like unlocking a new map in a game.

 

The thrill itself was a kind of reward. Maybe she was pushing boundaries, but she was testing whether she and Yan Wei could build a more equal relationship.

 

And now, it seemed that possibility was growing.

 

But later, looking back on this moment, Jiang Mi would want to slap herself.

 

Thrill can be a reward, but too much thrill… is fatal.

 

Yan Wei didn’t speak and walked ahead. Jiang Mi followed. The two of them walked in silence to the set. Director Jiang Qu stood by the camera. Upon seeing them, she waved and motioned for them to prepare upstairs.

 

Back to the second floor.

 

The scene where Liang Yongping hesitated.

 

Director Jiang confirmed with them:
“Any issues? We’ll start in one minute.”

 

Yan Wei nodded.

 

Jiang Mi replied,
“Got it.”

 

Once everything was ready, the two stood silently in the room. In that one quiet minute, it felt like the world contained only the two of them. Jiang Mi took a deep breath, head bowed, not looking at Yan Wei—but she could feel her gaze.

 

Cold. Heavy. Damp.

 

With the call of “Action!”, Jiang Mi yanked herself back to the scene.

 

…

 

Liang Yongping voiced her thoughts to Qin Shui. She wanted to end this madness before things went too far.

 

As she tried to leave, Qin Shui trapped her at the door. Her back pressed against the wood, she didn’t dare meet Qin Shui’s gaze, her head turned slightly aside.

 

She heard Qin Shui ask:
“So you think being with me right now… is cheating?”

 

Liang Yongping’s fingers dug into Qin Shui’s shoulders. The silky cheongsam wrinkled under her grip. Her knuckles turned white from strain, teeth clenched tight like shells protecting a final pearl. But the touch at her waist sent sparks across her spine, a sharp current tingling her nerves.

 

Her earlobe was gently pinched. She tried to pull away—but unintentionally leaned closer.

 

Through gritted teeth:
“I’m not.”

 

They were almost pressed together. The rosy scent of body wash filled her lungs. Qin Shui’s soft voice brushed her ear like velvet:

 

“You haven’t called me ‘sister’ in a long time.”

 

“Say it once. I’ll let go.”

 

Liang Yongping opened her mouth, only for a shadow to fall over her eyes.

 

Qin Shui’s nose touched hers. Her low voice, hoarse and clear:
“Say it.”

 

Liang Yongping closed her eyes. She should’ve resisted. But the moment Qin Shui came closer, a wave of helplessness rose in her. Was it really Qin Shui stopping her?

 

Was it?

 

She asked herself.

 

Her eyes reddened, forehead and nose brushing gently. Only Qin Shui’s watery voice filled her ears:
“Be good. Say it.”

 

“…Sister.”

 

A tear fell.

 

Qin Shui kissed her.

 

Liang Yongping’s hands gripped Qin Shui’s shoulders, trying to push her away. Even her tightly clenched jaw screamed refusal… but the caress at her waist shattered her defenses instantly.

 

Qin Shui’s kiss was the ultimate gentleness—at first, just ripples. Liang Yongping didn’t dare open her eyes, as if that would deny her surrender.

 

All she could feel was Qin Shui’s persistence, over and over, like waves on a lake.

 

Then suddenly—teeth broke through the wall. Fierce breath replaced the breeze with a storm.

 

The metallic tang of bl00d mixed with the wet warmth of lips, pain and trembling grinding like sandpaper. That gentleness turned violent, kisses biting and tearing.

 

It was like revenge.

 

Pain forced her mouth open—and Qin Shui deepened the kiss—

 

Jiang Mi nearly lost her breath.

 

She panted, drenched in sweat.

 

In that painful moment, she opened her eyes—and found herself staring into a pair of eyes full of possessiveness.