A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Gland

Jiang Mi stood frozen. Her eyes, breath, pores—even every strand of hair—sensed only two words: danger.

That danger came from the silence and coldness on the Omega’s face, from those calm, unflinching eyes staring right at her.

Just how powerful must someone be to stay this composed, injecting suppressants and fully exposed before an Alpha?

Or… did she just seem too weak as an Alpha?

Jiang Mi watched Yan Wei expressionlessly pull out the needle and toss it into the trash with practiced ease. Her silk-white nightgown followed the motion, outlining a pair of perfectly slender arms.

That faintly sweet scent—like brandy—washed over her again, making her dizzy. Her gland gave a painful twitch.

Lowering her gaze, Jiang Mi tried to hide her face behind her damp hair like an ostrich hiding in sand. “Sorry, I saw the door swing open and thought… I just wanted to say hi.”

By now, Yan Wei’s gaze had shifted away from her, but the oppressive weight on her shoulders didn’t ease at all. A warm, intoxicating breeze occasionally brushed past her breathing space.

Her throat dry, Jiang Mi swallowed hard.

Inside and outside the room, not even the sound of wind could be heard. It felt like they were the only two people left in the house.

After a few seconds of silence—

“Jiang Mi,” Yan Wei spoke. “I hope this will be the last time we meet.”

Jiang Mi looked up and saw her profile—elegant and cold. The smooth line of her neck and straight, delicate shoulders remained turned away. She didn’t even look at her as she said it. That kind of indifference was nothing like the woman on TV—it felt far more real.

The disappointment in her heart collapsed like a soft-boiled egg rotting in the pan. This was the person she had long admired, dreamed of meeting.

She thought she should cry. It was definitely something worth crying over… but in the end, it just felt like salty seawater brushing over her skin—no sharp pain, just dull, faint stinging.

The heat that the brandy-like scent had stirred was slowly ebbing.

Considering the reality of the situation, she said, “That might be a little difficult… But I’ll try.”

Then again, could she at least get a signed photo?

Jiang Mi returned to her room quickly, locked the door, and face-planted on the bed. Remembering her wet hair, she got up, threw a jacket over the bed, and smashed her head down again. The gloomy mood was hard to shake, so she opened Weibo and checked the trending list.

Top trending topic #1 — “Spring” may be classified as a restricted film?

#2 — Yan Wei talks about starring in “Spring”

Normally, she’d have clicked in immediately for the tea, but not today. She went back to WeChat instead.

There weren’t many messages in the four-person group chat—they usually only talked if she wasn’t bantering with Zhou Shanshan.

She scrolled up.

Shanshan: “What do you mean, typo?”

Shanshan: “Where’d you go? Flirted and ran?!”

Shanshan: “So heartless… so cold…”

apple: “Maybe she’s working?”

Shanshan: “Apple, you still filming in Jin City? I’m bored. Can I come visit the set?”

…

Jiang Mi replied: “Didn’t run. Just had something to do.”

Shanshan (instant reply): “What thing?”

She wasn’t really curious—just bored and willing to chat about anything.

Jiang Mi: “Contemplating life.”

Shanshan: “?”

Jiang Mi: “Give it up. You’ll never reach the depth of my philosophical level.”

Shanshan: “…Great, the wig’s poisoned your brain.”

Jiang Mi: “DON’T. MENTION. THE. WIG!!!”

Slamming out three exclamation points, she let out a long sigh. Somehow, she felt a little better.

Then she recalled what Mo Yun said about the study door lock being broken and not fixed yet…

So the door had opened by itself. She hadn’t meant to walk in on anything. If there was anyone to blame, it was her cursed curiosity—and thinking she could just casually “say hi” that late at night.

But most of all, it was that damned door’s fault.

Her phone buzzed. A private message from apple: “Mi-mi, are you okay?”

Apple was sensitive—just a few words, and she could tell something was off. Jiang Mi said she was fine, but what happened earlier had genuinely hit her hard.

Today, she’d managed to irritate the person she’d long idolized. There would be no “neighbor big sister” from childhood anymore.

She opened NetEase Cloud Music. The first recommended song was Karen Mok’s “Overcast”.

Of course—Xiao Yun always understood her best.

She lowered the volume, started the music, lay down flat on the bed.

Singing softly with the melody:
“On overcast days, don’t go turning on lights in a room; let all the suddenly opened doors stay closed…”

…

Meanwhile, the study door had been shut again, now barricaded with a chair.

Yan Wei sat with her eyes closed, forehead dotted with fine sweat. Her baby hairs stuck to her temples, soft and damp—not at all as aloof as she was. After a long while, the suppressant finally took effect, and she began to regain control from the physiological response.

Her heat cycles were always unstable—sometimes two or three times a month. But this one was particularly absurd, since it had only been three days since the last one.

Jiang Mi.

She repeated the name in her mind.

And calmly analyzed it—was it because of compatibility? Had her pheromones been triggered, causing her body to react?

Yan Wei unbuttoned the top two buttons of her nightgown. A soft wind blew in through the mesh window. She leaned back in the chair, a graceful curve running from her chin to her collarbone, then down into the open neckline.

Suddenly, a vision flashed in her mind: that face at the door—wet bangs, soft lips opening and closing, bright eyes and teeth. That Alpha in a pink nightgown, neckline soaked and revealing faint skin tone beneath. Her entire body radiated moisture and purity.

Was she doing it on purpose?

Or was she simply… clueless?

She seemed to smell that milky scent again.

Yan Wei suddenly narrowed her eyes, the calm in her gaze tinged with irritation and impatience.

This better really be the last time they meet.

Jiang Mi couldn’t sleep. She glanced at her watch—it was already midnight.

Unable to fall asleep, she got up and started working on some character bios for a script Zhao Jia had gotten for her. As she wrote the bio for the second female lead, she became more and more awake.

Lines from the second lead in Spring kept echoing in her head, one after another. She whispered them as she wrote.

“You say you love me, but what do you love about me? Do you love the person I am? My rough hands? Or my soft tongue…”

After saying that, Jiang Mi bit the tip of her tongue.

This scene was a dialogue between the second lead and the female lead. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to hear Yan Wei deliver the lines in response.

“What do I love about you? Try again and find out.”

“…”

For no reason, Jiang Mi recalled the image of Yan Wei tilting her head back, exposing her pale neck—and her tongue throbbed even more.

No wonder netizens called this R-rated. Most of the dialogue was sharp and explicit.

Yet the overall story was steeped in melancholy. Jiang Qu was best at expressing emotion through extremes.

She wondered who’d be lucky enough to play Yan Wei’s second lead.

It wouldn’t just be a shock—it would be a soul-shaking experience.

Unfortunately, that person wouldn’t be her.

Jiang Mi didn’t get to bed until 2 a.m., but she still woke up early the next morning.

After washing up, she went into the living room and saw Mo Yun already busy in the kitchen. Jiang Mi tried to help, but was stopped.

“Just sit down, I’ll steam some dumplings for you.”

Before coming over, Jiang Mi had noticed the tightly shut study door. Now, seeing only two sets of tableware on the table, she hesitated and asked, “Auntie… where’s Teacher Yan?”

“Teacher Yan? Didn’t you used to call her ‘sister’ all the time? Why the change?” Mo Yun teased with a smile. “Feeling distant now? It’s okay, I asked your mom. Since you’ll be in Huaicheng for a while, even if you don’t stay here, just come over often. Auntie will cook for you.”

Jiang Mi responded to the last part, saying, “Okay.”

Mo Yun called out from the kitchen, “I didn’t stay here last night, so I don’t know when she left. I messaged her just now, and she said she had work this morning—probably left before dawn.”

No wonder it was so quiet last night. So, it really had just been her and Yan Wei in the house? Jiang Mi didn’t dwell on how strange that was. She simply pondered those words and replied, “…Okay.”

The sentence “I hope this is the last time we meet” echoed clearly in her ears.

So it was true—Yan Wei was completely fed up with her.

Jiang Mi, oh Jiang Mi… You’ve chased your idol to the point where she runs away before sunrise—you might be the only fan like that.

If you have that kind of power, you’ll succeed at anything!

…

Zhao Jia came to pick her up. Along the way, she watched Jiang Mi go from laughing to herself to snorting coldly, to smirking in self-mockery, and couldn’t help asking, “What’s going on with you? Didn’t you go see your sister yesterday? Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

With dark circles under her eyes, Jiang Mi let out two hollow laughs.
Honestly, she’d rather have seen a ghost.

After a moment, Zhao Jia asked again, “Does your sister need help with anything? Don’t hesitate—just say the word.”

Jiang Mi remembered her bold words from the day before and replied calmly, “No need. I won’t be bothering her in this lifetime.”

“?”

Zhao Jia had no idea what kind of mood swing she was having. She handed her a water bottle and added, “Mimi, we’re heading back to the office—President Li is coming by for an inspection.”

Jiang Mi leaned back in her seat and took a sip.

Soon, she saw the LED screen at the mall again. This time, the woman on it completely overlapped with the real image in her mind.

Only now, that coldness had taken shape in her heart.

“If I start working hard from today… do you think I could stand where Yan Wei stands?”

“Of course,” Zhao Jia said without hesitation. Jiang Mi had always taken her work seriously, but she wasn’t aggressive enough. If she truly found motivation, what couldn’t she accomplish? She could succeed at anything!

Zhao Jia turned to her and added, “When we meet President Li, say something determined—show your ambition. Otherwise, they’ll just keep saying you don’t have a role lined up… And they let others steal the good roles so easily. Why don’t they reflect a little?”

She kept complaining and ended up ranting about the company.

Forty minutes later, they arrived at the office building.

Jiang Mi had been signed with “Huawei Entertainment” for three years. It was a smaller subsidiary, but still looked impressive.

The entrance was lined with photos of celebrities from the company’s founding days. The hallway had portraits of senior artists and current top stars. Of course, Jiang Mi wasn’t among them.

Zhao Jia was called in first. Jiang Mi sat on a couch in the guest area, legs crossed, sipping tea. She’d never liked dealing with management, so she enjoyed the peace.

After a while, she heard an argument from inside.

“Do you not know what kind of situation Jiang Mi is in right now? You think she has the popularity to carry a second lead?!”

“But this role—she earned it herself! The director approved her. It was basically set. And now Qin Yao, who’s still filming another show, wants to steal it from her? How many times has this happened?! Why?!”

The timing had already been arranged. If Jiang Mi passed the audition for Spring, it wouldn’t start filming for three more months. Meanwhile, the director of Sunset had already met her and confirmed she could take the second lead role. It was a major production and casting would take months—they could coordinate both.

This was one of Jiang Mi’s rare second lead opportunities.

If she landed Spring, she’d soar and stay visible in the public eye!

“Watch your tone! Qin Yao’s show is already wrapped. The company made this decision after careful discussion. The second lead for Sunset is going to Qin Yao. I’m just informing you. Your job is to prepare your artist mentally.”

President Li looked at Zhao Jia’s reddened eyes and added, “Don’t take it personally. Qin Yao can bring funding into the crew. Can Jiang Mi? And her online influence—Jiang Mi can’t match it. The production team has to consider these things.”

At that point, Zhao Jia understood everything.

Her eyes were full of disappointment and coldness. “We’re all in the same company, and you’re just openly stealing roles like this? You think that’s okay?”

“We’ll give Jiang Mi a bonus at the end of the year. Besides, what she should be focusing on now is whether she can pass the Spring audition.”

Zhao Jia furiously opened the office door and met Jiang Mi’s gaze.

Neither of them spoke until they got into the elevator.

Jiang Mi asked, “Was it always like this when you met her alone?”

“These people in power… they don’t see you as a person unless you’re valuable to them.”

Jiang Mi fell silent. When they walked out of the building, she looked up at the vast blue sky.

“You’re right.”

Whether it was the last time they met—no one could decide that but her.

Who’s to say, one day in the future… they wouldn’t meet again at the top?