After Becoming the Live-in Scummy Alpha, I Pamper Her with Real Strength - Chapter 5

It turned out that Mo Qingran’s parents had once signed a legal contract, leaving a significant portion of assets as a wedding gift for their beloved daughter—including 1% of Mo Corporation’s shares. The legal recipient of this inheritance was to be Mo Qingran’s husband.

If not for their unexpected deaths, the contract would have been presented by their lawyer on the day of her wedding as a surprise for the couple. But with tragedy striking first, the lawyer had no choice but to reveal the contract at the funeral, issuing a stern warning to the Mo family members already circling like vultures.

This contract named only Mo Qingran and her future spouse as beneficiaries. No one else could even dream of touching it.

Though disgruntled, the Mo family didn’t make a scene. After all, Mo Qingran was only fifteen at the time—marriage was still a distant thing. So long as the shares remained untouched and securely stored with the lawyer, they were content to bide their time.

But now, at twenty-two, Mo Qingran was well past the legal age to marry, and the matter could no longer be ignored.

That’s why her second aunt had come up with that absurd “system-matched marriage” idea, even helping Jiang Weiran chase after her relentlessly.

As Mo Qingran slowly revealed the web of familial intrigue, He Song’s head began to throb. These deep-rooted power plays were far beyond her knowledge or experience.

This contract wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the original novel, nor did the original Jiang Weiran’s memories contain any trace of it.

Naturally—Mo Yun had always treated Jiang Weiran as a mere pawn. Why would she ever share information about such a valuable asset?

“I could just sign the shares back to you,” He Song offered.

Mo Qingran tapped the table with her fingertip, voice cool. “You’d just hand them over because I want them?”

“Of course I would. They were meant to be yours. Who else would I give them to?” He Song replied without hesitation. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tempted—this was no small fortune—but these were her parents’ legacy. And she wasn’t really the groom. What right did she have to keep them?

“The shares will automatically revert to me after the divorce. But getting them is just the first step,” Mo Qingran said, her eyes dark as a still lake under shadow. “I need three years. For three years, I need you to act with me.”

“You’ll be the live-in husband of Mo Corporation’s heiress. Legally my spouse. But we’ll have a rocky relationship—constant arguments, irreconcilable differences. Meanwhile, you’ll be getting closer to my second aunt, Mo Yun. With 1% of the shares in hand, you’ll publicly side with my second uncle’s faction on the board. I, despite being the CEO, will be isolated and sidelined, stripped of any real power. That’s the narrative we’ll spin.”

She described this fabricated storyline with a calm, distant air, yet every word made He Song’s skin crawl. Because aside from Jiang Weiran not joining the board in the original story, the rest aligned almost perfectly with what she knew: Mo Qingran’s authority had weakened before the divorce, and the company had been slowly cannibalized by her relatives.

This was Mo Qingran’s first move—pulling back behind the curtain and sending in a third party to disrupt the family’s balance of power.

But He Song had been trying to avoid the original plot and stay far away from the Mo family’s political warfare. If she agreed to this marriage, there’d be no clean exit.

She sat up abruptly on the bed, her pale legs folding cross-legged beneath her as she bit at her pinky. The sting helped her think.

“You want me to be your shield.”

She’d be the scapegoat—arguing, making waves, intentionally stirring conflict, so the rest of the family would focus on her instead of Mo Qingran.

As long as she was there, they’d assume Mo Qingran was contained and harmless.

Putting the pieces together, He Song finally calmed down. “Miss Mo, to be honest, I really don’t want to get involved in your family’s mess. Just dealing with Mo Yun is a headache. I can’t handle them all.”

“You played the part just fine the other day.”

Mo Qingran rubbed her temples, her voice weary. The decision to propose this contractual marriage had cost her several sleepless nights.

“You said you’d take responsibility. So give me three years—what’s the problem?”

He Song went quiet. Rationally, she knew she was out of her depth. It wasn’t too late to walk away. But she couldn’t bring herself to say no.

She could hear the fatigue in Mo Qingran’s voice. From fifteen to twenty-two, she had endured the siege of greedy relatives alone. Losing her parents, her life had turned upside down, and she barely had time to grieve before she had to lead. No one to catch her if she fell. No warmth, just revenge and work.

He Song’s heart ached. Seeing Mo Qingran like this—not just words on a page, but a living, breathing person—she could no longer be a bystander.

Besides, she had transmigrated into this novel. With her foresight, she might just be able to make a difference… right?

She sighed. “Alright, Miss Mo. If you say so. Dragon’s lair or tiger’s den—I’ll go in with you.”

The deep, cello-like voice from the other end went silent, then Mo Qingran coughed lightly before speaking again, her ears faintly pink.

“Jiang Weiran, just remember—once you sign the contract, there’s no backing out.”

Now that she’d decided, He Song felt oddly at peace. The scent of cedar seemed to pull her into a quiet, snowy plain, where two sets of footprints stretched ahead through falling snow. In the distance, the first hint of dawn lit the sky.

She didn’t yet realize that this single act of kindness wouldn’t just cost her her freedom—it would change the course of her life forever.

“I won’t back out. But—I’m going to change my name.”

“Change your name?”

“Of course. I’ve turned over a new leaf. I should start fresh with a new identity,” He Song said. “I don’t want to spend my life using someone else’s name.”

“What name?”

“He Song. ‘He’ as in grain, ‘Song’ as in ode.”

Mo Qingran repeated the name softly, the syllables sliding between her lips. The sound made He Song’s heart tremble. Her face flushed; she pinched her thigh hard to calm herself down.

It’s just a name, she scolded herself. No need to overreact. I need to get this strange dependency on her scent checked out soon.

“It’s a nice name.”

“Thanks. I’ll head to the police station tomorrow to make it official. Out with the old, in with the new—I’m ready to start over.”

Her fresh enthusiasm made even Mo Qingran smile.

“Oh, right,” He Song suddenly remembered. “About the cohabitation clause—am I moving in with you?”

Mo Qingran didn’t respond immediately. He Song panicked and began to fluster, messing up her damp hair. Why did I ask that? Now I sound desperate.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I’m not in a hurry. You decide—whenever it’s convenient.”

Mo Qingran finally replied, her voice low: “After we get the marriage certificate.”

“Okay, no problem at all,” He Song agreed quickly.

Somehow, their conversation stretched until eleven. He Song glanced at her phone—they’d been talking for nearly two hours. In private, she tended to ramble, especially when she found someone she could connect with. Even someone as stoic as Mo Qingran couldn’t stay immune for long.

Despite her usually sharp demeanor, tonight, Mo Qingran found He Song’s chatter oddly comforting.

He Song said, “Didn’t realize it got so late. You should get some rest, Miss Mo. Take care of your health. No matter what’s going on, your body comes first.”

“Just call me Mo Qingran. And you get some sleep too.”

Right. They were about to get married. Calling her “Miss Mo” was starting to feel ridiculous. He Song murmured a soft goodnight and hung up.

Since she agreed to play the part, she’d play it well.

She sent a few messages to Mo Yun.

________________________________________

The next day…

At the ground floor of Huanyao Entertainment, a woman walked in. She wore a white V-neck sweater tucked into a sleek black A-line leather skirt, paired with knee-high boots that showed off her long legs and fair skin. The front desk girls kept sneaking glances. Who was this stunning beauty?

After signing in, the woman made her way toward the elevators.

Even the faint scent of cedar lingering in the air turned their cheeks red. The name on the sign-in sheet was elegantly written: He Song.

She was here to meet her new agent and audition for a new role.

“Do we even have an artist named He Song?” one of the receptionists whispered.

Technically, they did—it was Jiang Weiran. But the transformation was so dramatic, they didn’t recognize her.

She had once worked as a model and now walked with a tall, confident poise. Her makeup was elegant and refined, highlighting her best features.

Waiting by the elevator was a delicate, boyish-looking actor. He stared at her repeatedly, curiosity plain on his face.

He Song frowned, already annoyed. “Do you need something?” she asked flatly.

“You’re Jiang Weiran, right? I heard you got rid of Brother Liu,” he said, his tone somewhere between mocking and disdainful.

She didn’t respond. “And you are?”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m Fang Qi.”

Fang Qi? The same guy who liked to swoop in and take Jiang Weiran’s discarded roles?

He Song didn’t recall ever meeting him before. She kept her gaze forward.

Being blatantly ignored made Fang Qi’s face twist. He stepped closer, taunting, “Liu told me everything. You’re arrogant, turning down great resources, trying to terminate your contract. With your reputation, who’d even want to manage you?”

Why did it seem like there was always someone buzzing in her ear like an annoying fly?

He Song’s brow twitched. She had no intention of engaging.

But Fang Qi mistook her silence for fear and pushed further. “You’re not cut out for showbiz. The company invested so much in you, and what did you deliver? Nothing. Might as well quit now.”

________________________________________

Author’s Note:

Author: Trouble’s brewing.

He Song: I’ve got my wife backing me up. Let them come.