A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 42
Chapter 42: Like a Dream
Soft morning light filters through the curtains, but it’s not enough to brighten the room—everything lies in a dim, gray-blue hush.
Jiang Mi lies on the floor beside the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, her back to the sofa. From the bathroom, a voice refuses to comply: “No. You need to rest.”
On the sofa, clothes whisper as Yan Wei shifts position.
She asks, “You really won’t… bite me?”
Her voice is flat, emotionless, like a feather touching water, faint and light.
Silence stretches between them. Jiang Mi hears her own heartbeat thundering in her ears, counting slow pulses until—after an unmeasured time—Yan Wei laughs, deep and low, emotionless.
“Jiang Mi… there won’t be a next time.”
Jiang Mi’s lips tighten, unsure of what that laugh implied.
Darkness blurs shapes, but amplifies breath.
She finally relaxes her clenched fingers. “Then… could we have a different reward?”
“Tell me.”
A slight shift on the sofa.
Staring at the ceiling, Jiang Mi mulls—“Why don’t you like sleeping in the bedroom? When I first met you, it seemed like you slept in the study too.”
Her words dwindle into silence, sinking like sand into a deep sea—no echo returns.
So long that Jiang Mi thinks Yan Wei has fallen asleep.
But she breaks the quiet at last: “Sleep then.”
Jiang Mi is silent, eyes closing. Disappointment blooms in her chest, crawling up her throat, leaving her breath short and tight.
She turns over, drawing the blanket up to her chin, sealing herself in a dense cocoon.
Clothes shift. She knows Yan Wei is still watching her. That gaze feels tangible, searing into her shoulder blades, making her heart ache.
She feels tired—more than physical fatigue. She needs time. Some sleep.
Just as her mind drifts to darkness, Yan Wei’s voice cuts sharply through the silence, rattling the floor and jarring her fingers:
“Jiang Mi.”
Every word resonant with weight: “Never ask again.”
…
Morning light, muted by heavy drapes, fills Jiang Mi’s vision. The living room remains in soft shadow, but through the glass door she sees Yan Wei standing by the window, in the center of light and shadow.
Jiang Mi rises to open the curtains. Yan Wei wears an oversized robe and holds an unlit cigarette. At the noise, she slowly turns.
“Good morning,” Jiang Mi greets, pushing open the door.
“Morning.”
Yan Wei’s voice still has a rough, post-illness rasp.
“How are you feeling?” Jiang Mi studies her face—she looks fine.
Yan Wei studies Jiang Mi in return. She hasn’t slept next to anyone in a long time, yet she slept deeply last night. Seeing the light today, she feels oddly empty—though she can’t pinpoint why. Irritation washes over her. Looking at Jiang Mi stirring in front of her, her mood shifts again.
Yan Wei crumbles the cigarette in her hand, not yet spoken. She lies: “Normal.”
“Let’s measure your temperature again later. I’m going to get ready,” Jiang Mi says, heading to the bathroom quickly—she doesn’t want to be late on set.
Later, the smell of baked bread and coffee drifts in, and daylight brightens the room. Jiang Mi emerges and sees Yan Wei at the table. Just then, her phone buzzes with Zhao Jia’s name, and she glances toward Yan Wei, a little guilty, then steps away to answer.
“Why didn’t you answer?” Zhao Jia teases. “I tried three times—almost had to come back.”
Jiang Mi glances at Yan Wei. “I was washing up… didn’t notice,” she says, walking away.
“Right,” Zhao Jia says, then something rustles in the background. “You’re in the hotel, right?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Worried you got snatched by wolves. Just don’t be late.” Zhao Jia hesitates, then “We’re eating now, and Apple wants to say—”
From the phone, a soft voice says, “Mi Mi… good morning.”
Jiang Mi relaxes. “Hi, morning! Feeling much better today?”
“Much better. I’m gonna stay in Jin City for a while,” Jiang Mi’s friend replies.
“That’s good,” Jiang Mi says—
Suddenly, warmth envelopes her. A mix of white-wine and rose fragrance hits her—they’re intimate too close. Her phone crashes onto the carpet.
Yan Wei’s arms fold around her, gently bending her forward, matching her cough with a smile. From the phone, Apple is asking, “Are you okay?”
Clutching Yan Wei’s wrist to still her hand, Jiang Mi answers in a flushed voice, “I choked, but I’m okay. I’ve gotta go prep—let’s chat later, Apple.”
After Apple’s reply, Jiang Mi hangs up. She turns. Yan Wei watches her quietly and asks slowly: “What was that?”
Jiang Mi hesitates, then replies, “Miss… Yàn lǎoshī, you might get noticed like that.”
Actually, thinking back, that comment was partly a test—she hoped Yan Wei would respond as she wished. Unfortunately…
Yan Wei didn’t say anything—like it was just some spontaneous moment.
“I have to go,” Jiang Mi says, adjusting her clothes. “I’ve got a morning shoot.”
Yan Wei tilts her chin, indicating the food on the table: “Eat first, then come with me.”
“Are you going to set?” Jiang Mi is surprised. “Your fever just broke…”
“I won’t go myself, but I can’t stall the whole crew.”
Yan Wei sips coffee and beckons her: “You’ll look after me, right?”
Jiang Mi pauses, heart skipping under that gaze. She forces a smile: “Of course.”
She cracks a boiled egg, placing the white on a small plate by Yan Wei.
“I got fresh lemons—will make you water on set.”
Yan Wei, eyes lowered, murmurs: “Mmm.”
Jiang Mi’s presence feels inexplicably soothing. She wonders if she tends others the same way.
That smooth egg sits ready. Yan Wei picks it up with two slender fingers—delicately, but firmly—leaving a soft impression in its flesh. She asks gently, “Do you do things like this for others?”
Jiang Mi focused on peeling another egg, nods without hesitation. “Yes—always.”
Yan Wei’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly, her eyes clouding. But Jiang Mi is absorbed in her task, unaware.
She continues, “I’ve peeled eggs for Old Jiang—my mother—and Jiāng Hù… she’s my sister.”
The air stills.
Yan Wei inhales quietly, tamping down some silent turmoil. She stares down, biting into the egg with an intensity as if consuming something more substantial than food.
…
After breakfast, they board Yan Wei’s chauffeured car. Inside, the space feels like a secret refuge. Yan Wei reclines immediately, resting her head on Jiang Mi’s lap.
The driver silently raises the partition, cocooning them.
Jiang Mi’s heart flutters under Yan Wei’s touch. She watches the sleeping side of her face, sunlight tracing across her lashes. The car hums as they pass over speed bumps.
She instinctively places a warm palm over Yan Wei’s ear. Yan Wei slowly opens her eyes, sleepy then alert, meeting Jiang Mi’s refined, pretty face.
She doesn’t move—just looks.
Jiang Mi, voice low: “Sister.”
Staring outside, she murmurs: “Sometimes I feel like this is all a dream… do you feel it too?”
Yan Wei stirs, lifting a hand to pinch Jiang Mi’s earlobe gently. She asks, “And now? Still feels like a dream?”
Jiang Mi pauses, skin buzzing like electricity. She allows a small smile, perhaps amused by Yan Wei’s question, and turns to her: “No… it doesn’t.”
Yan Wei’s gaze locks on that smile, and her lips twitch—very subtly: “Jiang Mi, are you… a bit silly?”
The destination arrives. Jiang Mi is about to retort when she sees through the window that a sea of fans await Yan Wei.
She ducks her head, hair tumbling forward like a thief avoiding detection, whispering: “So many people…”
Her shoulders slump. Yan Wei hadn’t expected such a quick reaction. She watches the crowd briefly, discomfort flickering across her face—and she doesn’t understand why.
Instead, she bows her head, placing a hand on the back of Jiang Mi’s head, stroking the hair. These two days, she’s realized how obedient Jiang Mi is—so perfect that she can’t help but cherish her.
Still, that same emptiness resurfaces in her chest—the same unsettling feeling.
In that moment, Jiang Mi’s soft voice drifts through the car: “I only act silly with you. I’m not actually silly.”
It may sound childlike, but she means it deeply.
“I’m not a fool—I’m just genuine with you.”