After Becoming the Live-in Scummy Alpha, I Pamper Her with Real Strength - Chapter 4
“Relying on an empty title to throw your weight around—if Miss Mo finds out about all your sordid affairs, Jiang Weiran, you’ll be finished.” Liu Fande sneered. “This time was my fault, and I’ll fix it. But there’s no need for us to turn this into an ugly scene, is there?”
He wouldn’t have dared do this without having dirt on Jiang Weiran. And plenty of it, apparently.
He Song (in Jiang Weiran’s body) frowned at the thought of the original owner’s long trail of scandals. Annoyed, she rolled her eyes at Liu Fande, just about to respond when the doorbell rang.
She got up and stepped carefully over the scattered scripts. The display screen by the door showed a round-faced girl with a high ponytail, dressed in a camel-colored coat. Her clean, professional appearance stood out.
He Song asked, “And you are?”
The girl smiled politely, a pair of cute dimples forming at the corners of her lips. “Hello, Miss Jiang. I’m Fang Yuan, Miss Mo’s assistant. I’m here today because there are some things we’d like to discuss.”
Miss Mo? Mo Qingran?
Why would she be sending someone? Still puzzled, He Song opened the door.
Fang Yuan stepped in, changed into slippers, and greeted her warmly. Her manners were so impeccable that He Song was surprised—she’d expected Mo Qingran’s assistant to treat her with thinly veiled contempt, given Jiang Weiran’s past behavior.
Liu Fande had also heard the commotion at the door. He got up from the couch, clearly stunned to see Mo Qingran’s assistant paying a visit. His mind raced. Could it be that… Mo Qingran actually cared about Jiang Weiran?
He approached quickly, flustered and awkward, forcing a fawning smile as he extended a hand. “Hello, I’m Jiang Weiran’s agent. Miss Fang, if you’re looking for our Weiran—”
He Song folded her arms and cut in coldly, emphasizing each word: “Former agent.”
Fang Yuan glanced briefly at the interaction, read the room, and ignored Liu Fande’s outstretched hand. She turned to He Song. “Since you’re no longer her agent, you shouldn’t be pestering the artist. Miss Jiang,
I’ll speak with Huanyao Entertainment about this. People who lack basic professional ethics shouldn’t be kept on the team.”
Liu Fande’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t expected Mo Qingran’s assistant to come in and immediately side with Jiang Weiran. He’d completely misjudged the situation—Jiang Weiran had the Mo family backing her. He was in no position to toy with her.
He forced a smile. “Come on, we’re just joking. We haven’t officially terminated the contract yet—”
He Song’s tone was firm. “It’s not a joke. As of today, you’re no longer my agent.”
Fang Yuan nodded crisply. “Huanyao Entertainment will assign you a new agent soon. After all, Miss Jiang is our boss’s fiancée—Mo family’s future spouse. Sir, I suggest you leave now. Otherwise, I’ll have to call security.”
Facing pressure from both women, Liu Fande realized he’d lost. Gritting his teeth, he began gathering the scattered contracts and scripts from the floor.
He Song leaned against the entryway cabinet and shot him a sidelong glance. “Don’t forget to take the trash you brought with you.”
Red-faced, Liu Fande stuffed the messy papers into his bag. As he passed by He Song, he hissed in a low voice, “You’re going down. Just wait.”
Bang—the door slammed shut behind him.
He Song sighed, finally enjoying some peace and quiet. She politely invited Fang Yuan to sit and even brought out the crème pudding she’d made earlier.
Jiang Weiran had few real friends—just a bunch of shallow party companions. He Song had no one to share food or conversation with, so the company was a welcome change.
Fang Yuan was a little stunned by Jiang Weiran’s sudden warmth. She sat at the kitchen table, scooping the silky, jiggly dessert from a crystal cup with a pink bunny-ear spoon, still trying to reconcile this new version of Jiang Weiran with the infamous past one.
Thinking of her boss’s complicated expression when she’d said “Jiang Weiran has changed,” Fang Yuan finally understood why she was sent.
“Miss Jiang,” she began, pulling a tightly sealed file folder from her bag, “My boss asked me to deliver this to you.”
He Song took it, her brows furrowing. Inside was a thick stack of contracts. The title on the front page read: Marriage Agreement.
“…Mo Qingran wants to marry me?!” He Song blurted.
That made no sense. Didn’t she just say she’d never entangle with her again? Why was the plot suddenly back on track?
Fang Yuan nodded. Her own initial reaction had been even more dramatic. Compared to the stunned He Song, she was calm now.
As He Song flipped through the thick contract, she saw clause after clause, until she found the final page.
Clause 108.
One hundred and eight?!
Was that really necessary for a fake marriage?
She skimmed a few of the items—everything from image maintenance to living arrangements and boundaries within their shared home. Nothing was overlooked.
“This was drafted by Miss Mo?”
“Yes,” Fang Yuan replied.
He Song buried her face in her arms for a moment before sitting up and reading carefully.
Someone had clearly poured a lot of effort into this. She couldn’t just ignore it.
By late afternoon, she’d read through the whole document. Most of it was reasonable, aside from one thing:
“The Mo Group’s shares—this part feels… inappropriate.”
Dividing assets always hits a nerve. Mo Qingran needed her capital to fend off the greedy relatives trying to seize control of her family’s legacy. Giving away even 1% was no small matter.
“This is a fake marriage anyway. I don’t need her shares.”
Fang Yuan’s eyes lit up with approval. Jiang Weiran had gone straight to the core issue—those 1% shares weren’t just money; they were power. On the board of directors, even 1% could tip the balance.
It was a prize few could refuse.
But He Song rejected it without hesitation.
“Miss Jiang, I’m afraid that’s non-negotiable. For the reason, you’ll have to ask Miss Mo yourself.”
He Song swallowed her remaining questions.
Finally, Fang Yuan tucked the contract away. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll bring this to Miss Mo.”
As she got ready to leave, He Song handed her a pre-packed pudding. “Please give this to Miss Mo. She seems to like desserts.”
She vaguely remembered from the script that the heroine always went to eat pudding whenever she was upset.
That night, He Song soaked in a fragrant petal bath before sprawling on the bed in a towel. Her skin glowed pink from the heat, and the scent of peach body wash lingered in the air.
Damp hair trailing down her back, she scrolled through her phone.
The termination with Liu Fangde had already gone through. A new, reputable agent would arrive in two days.
Meanwhile, Liu Fangde kept blowing up her WeChat. She blocked him without hesitation.
But… should she reach out to Mo Qingran?
He Song bit her finger, heart skipping a beat at the thought. Was it the contract? Or that strange, possessive emotion from before?
She hadn’t decided when—Ring ring ring—her phone lit up.
Caller ID: Mo Qingran.
Speak of the devil.
Heart pounding, she answered.
“Jiang Weiran.” Mo Qingran’s voice was low and smooth, like silk brushing against the skin—maddeningly soft.
“Miss Mo,” He Song swallowed hard. “Is there a problem with the contract?”
“I should be asking you that,” Mo Qingran replied calmly. “If you have questions about the agreement, you can ask me directly.”
Mo Qingran sat in her study, flipping through the contract Fang Yuan had brought back. Her face was cold, but when her fingers touched the pudding on the desk, her expression softened slightly.
“Why are you giving me the shares? I think you need them more than I do.”
That serious tone made Mo Qingran smile faintly. She tapped the rabbit-eared spoon beside the pudding and said lightly, “Oh? So now you’re concerned for me?”
“Of course. I’ve learned a little about the Mo family’s internal mess. Those shares will help you keep control in the boardroom.”
She didn’t add the rest: if Mo Qingran wanted to fully reclaim her family legacy, she’d need to strike hard, fast, and with overwhelming force.
“You’re not wrong,” Mo Qingran said. “But once we’re married, those shares will be legally transferred to you. No one—not even I—can take them back.”