A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Clean

 

The sudden sharp pain tightening at her neck made Jiang Mi gasp sharply.

 

This was the second time Yan Wei bit her there—precisely the same spot, but with far more intensity than before.

 

Rapid breaths crashed against her chest. Yan Wei had pulled her arms behind her back, locking her wrists and pinning her shoulders.

 

The sharp pain and almost forceful posture made her spine tense and bend backward involuntarily, as if she were being bound.

 

Yet somewhere deep in her mind, only one thing echoed madly—Yan Wei’s burning words:

 

“I like you.”

 

Something exploded inside her—a dense, scalding joy that spread along her spine. The air beneath her feet suddenly solidified into something firm.

 

Of course Jiang Mi was happy—more than that, she felt grounded.

 

She whispered, “Teacher Yan, can you say that again?”

 

Teeth loosened. A wet tongue licked lightly over the throbbing bite mark, sending a shiver down her spine.

 

Yan Wei’s voice came close to her burning skin:

 

“Like you… I like you. Jiang Mi, can’t you feel it?”

 

Jiang Mi closed her eyes, as if that could shield her from the overwhelming dizziness. Then came Yan Wei’s barely audible sigh: “You don’t believe me.”

 

—As those words fell, the force restraining her wrists abruptly vanished.

 

This time, Jiang Mi clearly caught the hint of disappointment in Yan Wei’s voice.

 

She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but the moment Yan Wei’s strength completely disappeared, her heart sank—an unexpected, subtle wave of regret surged.

 

She couldn’t help saying, “…No, it’s not that I don’t believe you.”

 

Driven by instinct, she wanted to turn and look into those eyes. But before her shoulder could even move, Yan Wei’s warm palm held her still.
“If you’re unwilling, then don’t force it. Jiang Mi, I respect you.”

 

“……”

 

Jiang Mi froze, barely perceptibly.

 

This reaction was completely different from what she had expected.

 

That almost detached word—“respect”—spoken so calmly by Yan Wei, felt like a kind of unfamiliar formality she’d never heard from her before.

 

Guilt surged deeper within her.

 

Jiang Mi suddenly had a thought—had she been overthinking everything? Had she used her own perspective to judge Yan Wei? Had she… misunderstood her?

 

“I…”

 

She didn’t know what to say.

 

The weight on her shoulder lifted.

 

“I’m going to shower. Wait here.”
Yan Wei’s voice carried a layer of frost, the warmth stripped from her usual tone.

 

Footsteps tapped softly across the damp floor, growing fainter.

 

The glass door closed with a crisp click, completely sealing off the steamy, warm light of the bathroom—leaving only a cold partition behind.

 

Something in Jiang Mi’s chest suddenly caved in, giving rise to a nameless ache. Her heart softened.

 

She stood still for a long time.

 

Finally, she bit her lip and involuntarily looked toward the frosted glass door.

 

She felt… uncomfortable.

 

It was the first time she’d heard Yan Wei speak in such a tone. She wanted to see her face—but the thought of possibly seeing disappointment on that beautiful face made her uneasy.

 

She walked a few steps closer, fingers hesitating at the cold doorframe. After a moment of doubt, she gently pushed open a small gap.

 

The sound of running water instantly amplified, accompanied by steam and the crisp scent of brandy.

 

Jiang Mi called softly: “Teacher Yan.”

 

A pause followed—maybe just seconds, maybe longer.

 

Then Yan Wei’s voice came through the cascading water and narrow door gap, each word dampened with cool moisture:

 

“You said I lack sincerity. But until now, how do you still address me? Like a stranger. Jiang Mi—where’s your sincerity?”

 

Jiang Mi’s throat tightened, as if something were blocking it. She couldn’t speak a single word.

 

She instinctively clenched her fingers. The bite on her neck still throbbed faintly, perhaps making the brandy-scented pheromones in the air feel even more intense.

 

At the same time, her heart ached—like biting into a cherry soaked in wine.

 

“Jiejie.”

 

Jiang Mi immediately changed how she addressed her.

 

“You say you want to know why I’m upset, want to know what happened to me. But it’s not that I didn’t tell you—it’s that I don’t even want to remember those things,” Yan Wei’s voice cut through the steam, cold and sharp, stabbing at her heart.

 

A brief pause, laced with fatigue:
“Should I tell you Mo Yun tried to blackmail me with suicide, demanding I keep sponsoring her beloved daughter? Or do you want to hear about all the wolves hiding behind smiling faces in this industry—how they’re constantly thinking about how to squeeze out every ounce of value from me, how to bleed me dry? Or should I tell you that every single person who gets close to you—I want to crush them under my heel?”

 

Jiang Mi was stunned.

 

There was too much in what Yan Wei said—too complex for her to process all at once.

 

So behind the glamorous surface, Yan Wei carried so many burdens?

 

A storm of emotions surged—was it joy that Yan Wei was finally opening up? Was it guilt? Or maybe that quickly suppressed heartache?

 

Jiang Mi tried to suppress it. She didn’t want to look like someone overly emotional.

 

Did liking someone mean walking into a fog with no map? Some feelings couldn’t be preemptively guarded against.

 

Suddenly, the sound of running water stopped.

 

Yan Wei’s voice became clearer.

 

“Jiang Mi, I remember telling you—the version of me you know has never been the real me. One day, you’ll regret it. You’ll fear me. You’ll want to leave. Maybe you’ll become like Mo Yun and Mo Xi… you’ll hate me. Blame me. Resent me.”

 

Footsteps approached the door, stopping less than ten centimeters from the frosted glass.

 

Even with water droplets in the air, Jiang Mi’s lips felt dry. She instinctively licked them.

 

The words stuck in her throat finally emerged, pure and certain:

 

“I won’t.”

 

From behind the frosted glass, Yan Wei asked, “What did you say?”

 

“I won’t leave you.”

 

“Not even regret it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then… what if one day you hate me and want to leave?”

 

Yan Wei suddenly sounded like a patient teacher coaxing her student.

 

Jiang Mi’s brows unconsciously furrowed. Why would she ever hate Yan Wei?

 

She took a breath and said, “I wouldn’t…”

 

“What if?” Yan Wei interrupted, tone firm and unyielding:
“What if that day really comes?”

 

The atmosphere shifted, becoming something subtler.

 

It felt like a request for a promise—or maybe a wager.

 

“I don’t know,” Jiang Mi answered.
“Then what do you want me to do to believe you?”
And just as she finished, she realized something was wrong—why did it suddenly feel like she was the one proving herself?

 

Inside the steamy bathroom.

 

Yan Wei slowly raised her eyes. Her wet lashes trembled slightly, her gaze lowered. The curve of her lips flashed briefly.

 

Her voice pierced the steam—each word calm and deliberate:

 

“If one day you really want to leave me, then let me decide what happens to you. Okay?”

 

The low, magnetic tone had a chilling pull.

 

Like electricity—Jiang Mi’s heart trembled.

 

“Okay.”

 

The word slipped out before she could think.

 

Afterward, Jiang Mi regained some clarity.

 

She inhaled the warm, humid air and spoke with cautious hope, her voice soft:
“Then… if something’s bothering you, could you try to tell me? I’ll worry… and if you have time, could you let me know where you are, what you’re doing? Even just one sentence?”

 

The other side fell silent, so quiet she could hear water dripping on tiles.

 

A few seconds later, the voice returned:

 

“Okay.”

 

The simple, firm answer was like sunlight cutting through clouds. All the shadows lingering in Jiang Mi’s heart vanished.

 

She was surprised Yan Wei agreed so readily.

 

“Jiang Mi.”

 

“Mm?”

 

“…It’s a little cold.”

 

That gentle, reliant tone jolted Jiang Mi.

 

She immediately turned to fetch a disposable towel. Through the frosted glass, a pale silhouette could vaguely be seen. Holding her breath, she slipped her arm through the gap.

 

First to meet her fingers was a wet, cool touch—Yan Wei’s damp fingertips.

 

That unexpected contact sparked a wild idea in her mind.

 

She clenched her fingers instinctively around the towel.

 

“Do you want me to help you?” she asked.

 

The last word had barely left her lips when the glass door silently slid open.

 

Jiang Mi’s breath caught—she was pulled into the depths of Yan Wei’s eyes.

 

Before she could adjust, her wrist was gently tugged. She stumbled forward, arms instinctively circling Yan Wei’s waist.

 

Wet. Slippery. Warm and cool.

 

Yan Wei prompted:
“Didn’t you say you’d help dry me?”

 

“Why aren’t you moving?”
Her voice was lazy, humid with steam, brushing past Jiang Mi’s forehead.

 

Jiang Mi’s cheeks and ears instantly burned.

 

The towel in her hands seemed to move on its own, trailing down Yan Wei’s damp skin—from her shoulders to the dip of her spine—careful not to miss a spot…

 

It reminded her of that day in Huai City, when Yan Wei had collapsed sick on the couch.

 

So she asked:
“Is your illness completely gone?”

 

Yan Wei: “I’m tired.”

 

The towel gently wrapped around Yan Wei’s body. Jiang Mi lowered her gaze and whispered:
“I’m sorry.”

 

From Huai City to Jin City—such a long, exhausting journey. The plane, the car, waiting downstairs for so long. And today, Yan Wei shared things from her past she clearly didn’t want to.

 

Suddenly Jiang Mi wondered—had she been too much?

 

Had she ever clearly told Yan Wei what she needed?

 

Had she ever asked, sincerely, if Yan Wei even wanted to talk about those things?

 

She looked up and found Yan Wei’s eyes locked firmly on her.

 

The air seemed to freeze. Jiang Mi’s long lashes fluttered in panic, her gaze drifting down—finally resting on those soft lips.

 

She suddenly tightened her grip on the towel, pulling Yan Wei gently into her space. Her lips touched gently, timidly, like a whisper of a kiss.

 

No other movement followed.

 

Jiang Mi kissed her with extreme tenderness—soft, reverent, like silent devotion.

 

Until Yan Wei gently stopped her.

 

She didn’t want to do anything more in this place.

 

Jiang Mi paused—surprised by the refusal, but not upset. Maybe because… this time, their connection wasn’t through the body.

 

Yan Wei raised a hand. Her cool fingertips brushed Jiang Mi’s flushed cheek.

 

After several encounters, she had come to understand something: this young soul seemed to crave something more pure than physical desire—something deeply emotional.

 

To truly keep Jiang Mi, she would need to make strategic compromises.

 

The transparency and tenderness Jiang Mi wanted—it wasn’t impossible to give.

 

But more importantly—

 

This faint, restrained intimacy was no longer enough for her.

 

To feed a starving person just one bite of meat wouldn’t satisfy them—it would only deepen the hunger to consume it all.

 

She would need to take more from Jiang Mi in return.

 

Yan Wei’s voice returned to its usual calm:

 

“We’ll talk when we get back.”