After Becoming the Live-in Scummy Alpha, I Pamper Her with Real Strength - Chapter 17

In the end, no one knew whether Director Yan had finally been persuaded by his dramatic nephew or if he’d simply been traumatized by how awful He Yan looked with the fringe—but that cursed set of fake bangs was ultimately sealed away in the bottom of a storage box.

He Yan’s features were already classically handsome, and he carried the historical styling well. Dressed in a royal-blue brocade robe embroidered with golden dragon patterns, he exuded nobility and elegance—the very image of an imperial heir.

In the drama, he played the role of Xun Xiang, the seventh prince of the Dayu Dynasty, who meets Lu Li for the first time at a teahouse on the outskirts of Licheng.

By that point, the female lead had finally come to understand what Wen Xiao meant by “a mayfly cannot cling to a great tree.” After the tragic death of her senior sister, she realized how weak she still was. If she wanted to succeed in her revenge, she had to build her own power.

Meeting the male lead was the first spark that lit the formation of a new plan in her mind.

Xun Xiang was gentle and refined, a crown prince with the people in his heart and the love of the nation behind him.

The power network behind him was intricate. He had close ties to both the common folk and various immortal sects, and rumor had it that his cultivation was deep and unfathomable—strong enough to rival the greats of the immortal realm.

Lu Li offered to share half of the Eight-Carriage Map, a mystical artifact that supposedly led to a secret realm. In exchange, she gave Xun Xiang one part of the map.

The legend spoke of Ban Shan Yue, a mythical ancient realm overflowing with treasure and spiritual medicine, but no one knew where it actually was—if it even existed.

Lu Li had secretly uncovered the map’s secret from some mysterious sources and was shocked. If this information were to spread, countless cultivators would likely risk their lives chasing it.

Xun Xiang agreed to the deal. As a crown prince, he already had a trove of rare treasures at his disposal, but they were nothing compared to the rumored bounty within Ban Shan Yue.

The two struck a deal quickly, and Xun Xiang provided Lu Li with enough manpower to begin the search for the secret realm.

Meanwhile, those mysterious figures left chasing a forged version of the Eight-Carriage Map remained completely in the dark.

________________________________________

Around lunchtime, He Yan entered the dressing room carrying a boxed meal from the crew, only to hear voices and laughter coming from inside.

When he opened the door, he saw He Song chatting on a video call while eating. Her phone was propped upright on a stand, a Bluetooth earbud in her ear. He couldn’t hear the person on the other end—just He Song’s relaxed, playful tone.

“Yeah, he’s really handsome. But who do you think looks better—me or him?”

“You need to think that long? Mo Qingran.”

“That chicken looks good, and you’ve got broccoli too. Gotta balance the protein and veggies.”

“Don’t like it? Then what do you like? I’ll make you lunch tomorrow—you can reheat it at work.”

“It’s not a bother, really… I just care, okay?”

…

He Yan felt like his teeth were going to rot from how sweet it sounded. What was this? The kind of disgustingly lovey-dovey dialogue only couples exchanged? The air was thick with romance. It was suffocating.

Hearing the door open, He Song turned around and saw He Yan with his lunchbox. She greeted him, “He Yan, you having lunch in here?”

He Yan: Nope. I came in to get smacked with your public display of affection.

“Oh, it’s just hot outside. I came to grab some sunscreen,” He Yan replied, deciding that as a single guy, he should flee before his heart took more damage.

He picked up a bottle from the table. “Didn’t expect you and your girlfriend to be so sweet. Even eating lunch over video call.”

He Song looked flustered and quickly clarified, “No, she’s just a friend. She tends to skip lunch, so I’m eating with her to keep her in check.”

He Yan: Really? Not buying it.

He Yan smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I’m not a gossip. I won’t say a word. You two take your time. I’ll see myself out.”

Once He Yan left, He Song finally remembered the video was still on. She looked at Mo Qingran onscreen—completely unbothered, scooping up rice from a boxed meal on her office’s third floor.

Stir-fried beef with green peppers, braised chicken with mushrooms, broccoli, and tomato-egg soup.

It was a fairly decent lunch. But Mo Qingran ate slowly, taking small bites and pausing between each one.

Is she a snail or something?

He Song glanced at her own box—it was already nearly empty. Mo Qingran’s rice bowl still looked untouched.

She’d always had a big appetite and could finish a bowl of plain rice just with chili beef sauce. Meanwhile, Mo Qingran’s dainty little portion wasn’t nearly enough to fill anyone.

“Come on, Miss Delicate. Eat a few more bites. If you eat this slowly, the food’s going to be cold.”

Mo Qingran thought about it, then obediently complied.

She had a mild eating disorder. Even in front of a feast, she could only stomach a few bites before her appetite vanished. Eating had always felt like a chore, and years of medication hadn’t helped.

But now, watching He Song on screen with her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, chewing like she was storing food for winter… somehow, that aversion to food had lessened.

And so, to her own surprise, Mo Qingran finished more than half the box.

He Song still thought it was too little but knew about her stomach condition. She’d have to increase her intake bit by bit. “Remember to eat three meals a day. My shoot wraps in the afternoon, and I’ll be home

tonight. I’ll make you something nutritious.”

“No need. The housekeeper will handle it.”

He Song grinned, “But I’ll be making real health meals. I found recipes online. If you want to heal your stomach, you need proper nourishment. Medication alone won’t cut it—it puts too much strain on your body.”

But filming is hard on you too… Mo Qingran thought.

He Song raised an eyebrow and flashed a dazzling smile. “Look forward to it, okay?”

Mo Qingran: “Mm.”

After eating, He Song lay down in her van and set a 20-minute alarm for a power nap to recharge before the afternoon shoot.

But what she didn’t expect… was that when she woke up again, the entire world had changed.

“He Song, something terrible just happened.”

The moment He Song opened her eyes, she was greeted by Lili’s distressed expression, on the verge of tears.

Still curled up in the car seat, He Song stretched lazily. “What’s wrong?”

Lili shook her head, sighing repeatedly. “What are we gonna do…” she muttered as she banged her forehead lightly against the soft seat in front.

That was when He Song finally realized—this wasn’t something trivial.

She immediately opened Weibo, only to find her private messages completely flooded.

Even though Jiang Weiran was a classic “pretty face” with bought resources, she still had a bunch of questionable “face stans.” Whenever she posted an ad or project update, a few active fans would still comment.

But things got especially lively whenever dirt or rumors about Jiang Weiran emerged—people would flood her inbox with insults. Still, it had never been this insane.

She clicked on the trending list. A blazing red “HOT” tag marked a headline that instantly caught He Song’s eye:

#JiangWeiranExposed

The top post came from a gossip outlet’s official account.

He Song skimmed it—allegedly, Jiang Weiran had improper relationships with multiple celebrities and idols within the industry, two-timing a dozen people at once, coercing others, and, worst of all, involving her—now known by a new name, He Song.

“Don’t think you can clean up your image just by changing your name. These scandals will follow you forever. @HeSong @HeSong.”

He Song recalled that Jiang Weiran had indeed dated women before, but the “cheating on ten people and coercion” part? That was pure slander.

Jiang Weiran’s past flings had all been consensual, mutual arrangements. Breakups were amicable, low-stakes—just casual fun.

The comment section, though, was a firestorm of insults and sarcasm.

“Just here for the daily roast. This chick pulls stunts like this every other day.”

“Coercing others? Can we get her locked up already?”

“I know she’s into girls and plays wild, but this is seriously messed up. When’s the proof coming?”

“If this one’s legit, she’s done. Can’t bear to watch her cringey acting anymore.”

Sure enough, once the post went viral, the gossip account followed up with “solid evidence.”

The attached images were all chat logs and screenshots of receipts, showing that over the past year Jiang Weiran had contacted more than a dozen celebrities to meet at hotels or go on expensive outings.

Just in September last year, she was juggling six different flings—her time management skills were elite.

The internet exploded. Now that “receipts” were out, the backlash only grew louder.

And then, less than five minutes after the exposé dropped, someone—suspected to be an idol’s alt account—retweeted the post.

Claiming to be a trainee from the same agency as Jiang Weiran, they alleged that Jiang had stolen resources, threatened newcomers, and even tried to coerce a newly debuted female idol. The girl had refused, and Jiang allegedly tried to force her hand.

The accusation was detailed, full of supposedly “insider info” that lent it credibility. Many believed this account was indeed a whistleblower from Huanyao Entertainment.

In the blink of an eye, the internet’s fury turned squarely on Jiang Weiran.

Some netizens even called for the alleged victim to come forward and press charges.

He Song silently read the entire online spectacle, then flipped her phone screen down onto her lap and closed her eyes, feeling a dull ache behind her temples.

She didn’t even need to guess who was behind this—it was Liu Fande.

The chat logs were real. But Liu Fande had deliberately stitched them together, falsified the timelines, and made it look like Jiang Weiran had been dating multiple people at the same time.

And that “coercion” incident? She remembered it too.

Back in a recording studio, Jiang Weiran had bumped into a newly debuted girl group from their company. One of the girls caught her attention—cute and pure-looking.

Right in front of everyone, Jiang asked the girl if she wanted to date her. The entire room had been stunned.

At the time, Jiang was between relationships. She’d never dated multiple people at once, but her relationships tended to overlap just slightly—seamless transitions, so to speak.

The girl had declined on the spot. Jiang thought she was just shy and tried reaching out a few more times in private. But she was firmly rejected every time.

Eventually, Jiang gave up. She was all about mutual fun—she didn’t chase unwilling partners. Not because she had morals, but because chasing wasn’t fun.

Love, to her, was about enjoyment, not worship. She liked people who went shopping, whispered sweet nothings, exercised together. She had no interest in someone who would glare at her all day like a grumpy cat.

Soon after, she hit it off with a model—equally wild and clingy. Jiang Weiran promptly forgot all about the girl group trainee.

Liu Fande’s goal was obvious: to get Jiang Weiran blacklisted from the entire entertainment industry.

He Song rubbed her brow in frustration. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

It was a call from Mo Qingran.

“Hello, I—” Before she could finish, Mo Qingran’s low, steady voice came through:

“Leave this matter to me, He Song. Trust me.”