A Flirtatious Beauty Alpha Provokes a Crazy Omega - Chapter 49
Chapter 49: Profound
Just past five in the morning, Jiang Mi saw a notification: Yan Wei’s flight had been canceled. She instinctively lowered her eyes—and met Yan Wei, who was slowly opening her own.
“Did I wake you?” Jiang Mi asked.
“No,” Yan Wei replied, faintly.
She hadn’t really slept—when the phone lit up in the car, she’d already been awake, her gaze still clouded with half-sleep.
“Your flight…” Jiang Mi began. “…was canceled. The earliest you can leave now is this afternoon.”
They had deliberately booked staggered flights to avoid suspicion. Now Yan Wei had to stay another six or seven hours in Jin City, maybe longer. That meant she’d miss her scenes scheduled for that afternoon.
Jiang Mi swiped across the cold phone screen, hoping to find any alternative.
Yan Wei pushed herself up, looked at the worry knitting Jiang Mi’s brow, and a half-smile curled at her lips—so faint it was almost a ghost: “If I can’t leave, then I’ll stay.”
“Huh?” Jiang Mi looked up, meeting eyes clear and steady. “But what about this afternoon’s filming? You’ll need to coordinate with Director Jiang.”
She wondered if Director Jiang would be upset—two female leads calling in sick simultaneously would throw everything off.
“Even if we reschedule, the four o’clock flight…” Jiang Mi trailed off, trying to organize her thoughts.
Yan Wei didn’t respond—she merely tilted her head, surveying Jiang Mi’s troubled expression with a touch of interest.
Uncomfortable under her gaze, Jiang Mi quickly proposed a compromise: “How about booking a hotel near the airport? We’ll keep it discreet. At least you can rest.”
Coordination was inevitable. Yan Wei would absolutely not make it back—and she trusted only Jiang Mi to wait with her.
“Going through all that trouble for this?” Yan Wei suddenly sat up fully; the motion made her clothes shift and outline her form. Looking at Jiang Mi’s puzzled face, she said lightly, “If you’re that worried, you might as well stay too.”
“That’d mess up the crew,” Jiang Mi blurted. Two core actors absent together, the crew idle—all morning she had confirmed with Director Jiang they could resume filming at noon.
She wanted to stay with Yan Wei—but couldn’t ignore the fallout.
Yan Wei calmly retrieved her phone, tapped her screen, and responded succinctly: “They’ll manage.”
The subtle vibration from her message confirmed it.
Jiang Mi averted her gaze toward the pale morning outside. A fingertip brushed her chin—cool and insistent, turning her face back to Yan Wei.
Their eyes locked. Close enough to see the faint shadows beneath each one’s eyelashes.
“You know, sometimes…” Yan Wei’s tone softened, the end of her sentence steeped in a strange tenderness.
Jiang Mi blinked, momentarily dizzy from the intimacy: “What?”
Yan Wei paused as if studying her, then quietly said:
“You’re interesting.”
Jiang Mi’s cheeks heated, but her body didn’t shy away. She didn’t pull back from Yan Wei’s fingertips. “Every time you call me cute or interesting, I feel like you’re teasing a pet,” she murmured.
Yan Wei raised an eyebrow.
“…Are you treating me like a pet?” Jiang Mi asked, teasingly.
“Why would I?” Yan Wei’s hand stayed on her face, fingertip brushing gently across her cheek. Where she touched, a pale warmth spread.
The faint blush made Yan Wei’s eyes light up. Her fingertip pressed deeper into that tender skin. She looked down at Jiang Mi’s neck and asked:
“Does it hurt?”
Jiang Mi admitted: “A little. So, sister—you seem more like the puppy to me—oops, that’s wrong.”
Yan Wei pinched a bit of Jiang Mi’s cheek—not hard, but it made her withdraw slightly.
Keen to change the mood, Jiang Mi said, “Say it again.”
“You—you… sister, I’m a puppy, I’m a puppy,” she stumbled, ending in mock frustration.
Yan Wei finally allowed a smile. She stroked Jiang Mi’s flushed cheek:
“Very good.”
Despite the embarrassment, Jiang Mi didn’t pull away—she couldn’t. Instead, a quiet contentment started to root in her heart.
She enjoyed the moment.
Jiang Mi looked away briefly and asked: “Did you message Director Jiang? What did you say?”
“I told him I’m with you, and can’t go back today.”
The atmosphere subtly shifted.
Jiang Mi froze, lips trembling before she managed: “That… that’s…”
“…Appropriate?” She thought of the director and crew. And maybe this confirmed their relationship—publicly.
Yan Wei’s tone was flat: “Don’t like that?”
Jiang Mi quickly shook her head: “I do.”
She was thrilled to have more time with Yan Wei—but also anxious. How would the crew recover?
“Let me handle any losses. Ignore Director Jiang; you don’t have to worry.” Yan Wei’s voice was commanding, unyielding. “What you should be thinking about now is how to compensate me.”
“…So, really not returning to set today?”
“Yes.”
Jiang Mi asked, tries to stay carefree: “Then… what do you want to eat? Let me take you out.”
“You pick.”
Daylight fully broke. They tidied up and headed back into the city. Jiang Mi parked in an inconspicuous spot, donned a hat and mask before getting out.
A short while later, she returned with two packaged breakfasts.
“If we can’t get a private room at lunch, breakfast has to be in the car,” she said, handing the warm bag to Yan Wei: steamed egg, soy milk, and a small rice cake.
Warmth from the bag rippled through Yan Wei’s fingertips, teasing nerves with a sharp, blurred sensation.
She bowed her head, vision filling with an image of Jiang Mi: hat low, masked face, carrying breakfast across pale morning light—like on a covert mission—darting across streets, awkwardly cautious.
It stirred a fragile, almost forgotten warmth deep inside—faint, but certain.
Years ago, something similar happened.
Before Yan Xiaotan passed, she’d park on the roadside too, mask on, buying steaming breakfast: egg pancakes and soy milk—for her daughter who she thought loved it.
Waiting in line, she’d look back at young Yan Yan (little Yan), her hand raised in silent comfort—tending to her impatient child.
After Yan Xiaotan’s departure, breakfast always appeared on the table for Mo Xi. Mo Yun thought she’d like egg pancakes—to remind her not to live without purpose.
But Mo Yun never really liked them. She just couldn’t refuse the ones handed to her. She always ate them quietly, completely.
“You should drink the soy milk to warm your stomach,” Jiang Mi said, bringing Yan Wei back from that distant memory.
She set her own breakfast on her lap, delicately wiping each finger with a wet wipe—focused, as if preparing for something important.
She peeled a warm brown egg shell and handed it to Yan Wei.
Yan Wei paused, then asked: “Where to?”
Jiang Mi, sipping soy milk, scanned the passing street. She was contemplating a challenge—where could they go that was safe and unusual for a person of Yan Wei’s status?
Her eyes caught an attention-grabbing, playful sign not far away.
A haunted house?
Closed space, almost no public exposure, playful nature… objectively, it seemed like a perfect choice?
“Hmm.” She tested the idea, tone tinged with unspoken eagerness: “Do you want to go to a haunted house…”
She met Yan Wei’s eyes—her gaze bright with curiosity and playful excitement, not yet tainted by life’s weight.
Something different, something refreshing.
And Yan Wei? She considered this.
She wasn’t averse—on the contrary, seeing that hopeful look sparked a flicker of joy. A tiny, unfamiliar pulse of delight.
Maybe this was it: she could let Jiang Mi be her light—something fun in her world.
“I’ve never done that,” Yan Wei said.
Jiang Mi, encouraged, brightened: “I went once with Jiang Hu. She screamed louder than me the whole time, clinging to my back, and we had to push through with her eyes shut!” She laughed at the memory.
“Jiang Hu?” Yan Wei’s thoughts halted at the name.
Her gaze brushed over Jiang Mi’s face and that smile.
“Your sister?”
“Yeah, she is.”
Yan Wei recalled Surui had checked family info. Jiang Mi and Jiang Hu weren’t bl00d sisters. In that moment a surge of melancholy rose—it wasn’t clear why.
She lingered silent, eyes deepening.
Finally, she said quietly:
“Then let’s go.”
If that memory was special,
then—a deeper one would erase it.