A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 45
Chapter 45: Come Downstairs
“I’m leaving.”
Jiang Mi’s voice was soft, like a speck of dust falling into the still air.
Because of the pulling just now, Jiang Mi stood in the backlight, her outline clear, her gaze calm to the point of detachment. “If Teacher Yan has nothing else to say—”
She nodded slightly, her tone polite and devoid of any earlier emotion. “See you on set.”
That “Teacher Yan” was articulated particularly clearly, cutting a distinct line between the two of them—colder than any formal title could ever be.
With that, she turned around decisively this time. The edge of her coat stirred a faint airflow, slightly disrupting the stagnant air.
“Jiang Mi.”
Yan Wei spoke almost instinctively. Her arm even lifted slightly but froze halfway, her fingertips curling before finally clenching into a fist.
A choking tightness welled in her throat, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to say something—about that message left unanswered, or the family chaos that was almost laughable…
But looking at Jiang Mi’s straight back as she stepped across the threshold—so upright, so devoid of attachment—
Yan Wei said nothing.
She didn’t like being emotionally swayed by Jiang Mi. She forced herself to resist the impulse to pull Jiang Mi back inside.
The whole day on set, the shooting schedule was stretched taut like a bowstring.
When the whistle blew for wrap-up, Yan Wei’s gaze cut through the crowd and landed on that familiar figure.
But this time, Jiang Mi didn’t look back.
She walked straight to her car. Zhao Jia had already opened the door. She said something, Jiang Mi nodded.
The headlights sliced through the night. The engine purred, and the car seamlessly merged into the flow of traffic beyond the set. The taillights flickered—and soon vanished from Yan Wei’s view.
Yan Wei inhaled the cooling air and, for the first time, tasted bitterness.
She was sure of it—it was bitter.
But when she looked at others around her, it seemed like she was the only one who could taste it.
Like, for the first time—she had something others didn’t.
Was that why she liked Jiang Mi?
Liked.
Yan Wei’s gaze hardened.
So, it had already come to that—she liked Jiang Mi.
Back at the hotel, the air felt oppressively heavy. Yan Wei stared at her phone screen in silence. It suddenly vibrated, her eyelid twitched, and she glanced at it.
The WeChat icon flashed prominently.
As if a tension suddenly released.
She and Jiang Mi didn’t have each other on WeChat yet, so it couldn’t be her.
She saw Jiang Qu’s profile picture blinking. The message was simple:
“Jiang Mi’s taking a day off tomorrow. Shooting schedule has been adjusted and sent to you.”
A day off?
Her heart twisted as if something had squeezed it hard. Yan Wei set her phone down. She watched the screen fade to black, then slowly lit a cigarette.
The slim stick nestled between her fingers, smoke drifting like lost spirits.
The red ember struggled at her fingertips. She snuffed it out.
Fingers numb, she undid the buttons of her dress. The soft fabric slipped off her shoulders and collapsed onto the sofa, as if all her energy had drained in an instant.
She didn’t check her phone again—just walked straight to the bathroom.
Warm water flowed over her skin, but it couldn’t wash away the empty void deep in her chest. Steam fogged the mirror, blurring her reflection.
She glanced sideways at the bathroom counter and remembered the dampness on Jiang Mi’s lips that day—
Jiang Mi, kneeling between her legs, looking up at her.
Those wet, innocent, clean, and temptingly soft eyes.
The bathroom door slid open. Moist air and water vapor escaped with a chill. Yan Wei glanced toward the living room.
Her phone was quietly lying there on the sofa.
Her body moved before her mind could stop it.
She picked it up and sent a message to Jiang Qu:
“Why is she taking a day off?”
Jiang Qu replied almost mockingly:
“Well, well, what a rare sight—Best Actress Yan showing interest in gossip?”
“Said it was family stuff.”
Since filming began, Jiang Mi had been hardworking and reliable. She didn’t seem well the past couple of days either. A break was probably needed.
Yan Wei stared at the words. The glow from the screen flickered in her eyes before finally dimming into darkness.
Same excuse—family stuff. Was Jiang Mi doing this on purpose, or…
She fell silent.
She turned the screen back on, opened her recent calls, scrolled down, and found “Jiang Mi.”
Her fingertip hovered for two seconds—then tapped.
It connected quickly.
But instead of that warm, soft voice, only an automated message played: “The number you dialed is currently turned off.”
The cold mechanical voice stabbed into her eardrums like a needle. Yan Wei silently lowered the phone, her brows darkening in the reflection of the black screen.
She pressed her throbbing temples, knuckles whitening.
A flood of boredom and weariness surged through her, dissolving what little patience she had left.
She was tired of this game.
Fine. Whatever.
…
The next morning, the smell of roasted coffee beans filled the nanny van.
Yan Wei leaned against the window, eyes closed. Next to her, Surui was briefing the temp assistant on some things.
Then the assistant mentioned Jiang Mi.
“Since Ms. Jiang isn’t here today, should we still order her fruit platters and cake?”
Surui glanced at Yan Wei’s slight reaction. “No need.”
“Oh, okay. She must be tired, making a round trip in one day…”
Yan Wei opened her eyes and looked over. “Where did she go?”
The assistant jumped slightly—this was probably the first time Yan Wei had spoken to her directly.
She bit her lip and said, “Jincheng. I saw it on the trending searches—there were photos of her at Jincheng airport. Ms. Apple was there too. I think they returned together.”
She had seen Apple’s Weibo. Apple and her agent were in the middle of a breakup and seemed to be returning to Jincheng to rest for a few days.
Surui suddenly felt the atmosphere grow heavy and nudged the assistant, “The outfits for the mid-month event are arriving today. Make sure—”
The topic shifted back to work.
But Yan Wei’s gaze was pitch black, as if an invisible hand was squeezing her throat—choking and almost addictive.
So, Jiang Mi took a day off, turned off her phone, and quietly left in the middle of the night to return to Jincheng—with another woman.
All the unease and pain she had tried to suppress erupted like oil thrown on sparks.
…
The brim of her hat hid her tousled hair. The Jincheng afternoon breeze slipped through her mask with a faint chill.
Jiang Mi looked up at the familiar sixth-floor window. The red paper-cut decoration was still stuck to the glass—the one she had pasted up herself last Spring Festival.
The elevator’s upward force made her exhaustion sink even deeper. But the fatigue from the overnight trip vanished the moment the keypad beeped.
A warm, oily aroma drifted through the door crack.
“Why are you home at this hour?” A head peeked from the kitchen. Jiang You Shu thought it was Jiang Hu: “Have you eaten?”
She turned around and was stunned to see Jiang Mi smiling brightly. Her eyes widened in disbelief. She almost tripped.
“Ah!”
Jiang Mi rushed forward and caught her: “You scared me! Mom, calm down!”
“You little brat!” Jiang You Shu smacked her arm. “You come home without a word! There’s only half a cabbage and two scallions in the fridge. Have you eaten? I’ll run to the market now—”
“No need!” Jiang Mi steadied her. “It’s boiling outside. Just order from the grocery app. And your leg’s still not right, no need to suffer just to be stubborn.”
Jiang You Shu had injured her leg years ago. Long walks were difficult, so she always worried more when Jiang Mi was off filming far away—because she couldn’t keep an eye on her.
Jiang You Shu pushed her away: “Delivery ribs are always the scraps! I only pick the best cuts. What do you know?! I’ll just walk slowly.”
“Dear Mama…” Jiang Mi softened her tone, gently rubbing the back of her mother’s hand. “I only have one day off. Spending it with you is more important than shopping.”
Sunlight spilled through the window. Only then did Jiang You Shu notice how much weight her daughter had lost—her jawline sharp, the dark circles under her eyes obvious.
“Do you really have to keep doing this job?” Her voice trembled. “You’re so skinny a gust of wind could blow you away…”
Jiang Mi buried her face in her mother’s neck and nuzzled like a child. “That’s why I came home—so you could fatten me up.”
There was a half-eaten bowl of plain noodles on the table. Jiang Mi frowned, “You call this dinner when you’re home alone? Where’s Jiang Hu? She busy?”
“The repair shop is swamped.” Jiang You Shu pushed a poached egg into her bowl. “I’ll call her—she’ll be happy to know you’re home.”
Jiang Mi replied, “She’d only bite back.”
Jiang You Shu laughed: “Didn’t Apple say she’s coming back too? When?”
“She came back with me today. But her parents missed her too, you know?” Jiang Mi added, “And I have to fly out before dawn tomorrow… Mom, sit with me and eat, will you?”
Steam swirled from the kitchen. Jiang You Shu touched her daughter’s head and sighed, “You flew over a thousand kilometers for three hours just for this bowl of noodles?”
Jiang Mi said, “To see you happy.”
…
Evening.
Jiang Hu came home, bringing with her a faint scent of motor oil. Dressed in gray workwear, short black hair sleek, a string of English tattooed across her neck.
She stepped in with long strides.
Jiang Mi looked out from the sofa: “Oh, you’re back.”
Jiang Hu glanced at her slouched sister. “Did the film crew starve you? You look like a refugee.”
She grumbled but tossed a bag on the coffee table—honeydew melon and chilled yogurt.
Jiang Mi peeked inside: “Just this?”
All her favorites.
She stabbed the yogurt lid with a straw.
“Don’t eat then.”
“I am eating.”
Jiang You Shu watched them bicker and couldn’t help but smile warmly.
Over the hum of the TV news, Jiang Hu washed her hands, greeted their mother, and sat beside Jiang Mi. Her phone buzzed constantly.
Jiang Mi nudged her ankle. “Got something going on?”
Jiang Hu flicked her slipper. “Nosy. What about you?”
Jiang Mi said, “Kinda. But not going well.”
Jiang Hu paused, eyed her sister, then looked away. “If it’s not going well, let it go. Don’t upset Mom. Don’t upset yourself. Got it?”
Jiang Mi was going to say “Got it,” but changed her mind: “None of your business.”
Then—ouch. Her ear stung.
Jiang Hu pinched it and lifted. “Attitude, huh?”
Jiang Mi grabbed her hair in return. Jiang Hu growled, “Let go.”
“You first.”
“Three, two—”
“Four, five—six.”
Not scared at all.
Jiang Hu took a deep breath and released her. “You are so childish!”
Jiang Mi retorted, “You’re older and even more annoying when childish!”
Jiang You Shu emerged with fruit: “One more word and you’re both sleeping in the hallway.”
Jiang Mi immediately said: “Hear that? She means you.”
Jiang Hu rolled her eyes and fixed her hair. She sneered, “You and Apple are trending. You know that?”
“My phone’s off. Didn’t see.”
She’d used her mom’s phone to call Jiang Hu.
Jiang Mi thought for a moment, then excused herself and went to her room. When she powered on her phone, messages flooded in. She opened Weibo—just as expected, full of private messages and chaos.
On WeChat, she ignored the others and tapped Zhao Jia’s message:
“Don’t worry about the trending topic. The company will handle it.”
Jiang Mi’s fingers hovered. Lately, Huayi Entertainment had been oddly attentive—offering another assistant, even. And now they were actively managing her PR. Her thoughts drifted to Huaicheng.
Yan Wei must’ve seen it too.
She pondered—and dozed off.
When she woke up, the curtains were drawn. Someone must’ve done it for her.
She checked the time—past 7 p.m.
She had slept so long…
Rubbing her dry eyes, she sat on the bed. Just as she was about to get up, her phone buzzed.
She looked down. Against the glaring white light, “Yan Wei” was flashing.
She froze for several seconds.
Staring at the name, her fingertip wouldn’t press down.
Until the phone fell silent.
Jiang Mi let out a long breath. Relieved—yet hollow.
But before she could settle, the screen lit up again.
She stared at the name, like they were making eye contact through the screen.
A few seconds passed.
Jiang Mi sighed to herself, Let’s just hear what she has to say. One last time.
If Yan Wei said anything she didn’t like—she’d hang up.
That was her best plan.
Her finger swiped to answer.
The moment it connected, the sound of night wind roared in her ear, sharp and cold:
“Come downstairs.”
Jiang Mi paused, then replied calmly: “Ms. Yan, I’m not in Huaicheng.”
A lighter clicked in the background, then that familiar cool voice slid into her ear.
“I know. Come downstairs.”
Yan Wei paused. “I’m downstairs at your place.”