After Becoming the Live-in Scummy Alpha, I Pamper Her with Real Strength - Chapter 8
The Huiji Pavilion sat beside Xiang Lake, a place of such picturesque beauty it was hard to leave. From the private room on the second floor, one could see the lake shimmering under the sun, glistening like a dazzling sapphire in the heart of Jiang’an City.
A few birds skimmed over the surface, landing on the grassy banks to preen their wings. Families dotted the meadows with picnic tents, basking in the bright, gentle sunlight.
He Song lifted her gaze to the woman sitting across from her. Mo Qingran’s face was expressionless, her long lashes casting shadows over her eyes. She took a small sip of tea, then lazily turned to look out the window, clearly uninterested.
Since entering the room, Mo Qingran hadn’t said a single word to He Song. Her cold indifference made the atmosphere awkward.
He Song could sense something was off, but considering Mo Qingran’s aloof nature—and the fact they weren’t exactly close—it didn’t seem entirely out of place.
“Would Miss Mo like to order something to eat?” He Song asked.
“You order,” Mo Qingran replied curtly.
Left with no choice, He Song turned to the waiter. “Braised pork knuckle, steamed mandarin fish, a stir-fried seasonal vegetable, and some brown sugar buns.”
Once the waiter left, He Song leaned her arms against the black glass table and studied Mo Qingran. “You look tired. Didn’t sleep well?”
Mo Qingran’s hand paused midair, her eyes sharpening. Talk about hitting the nerve—He Song had managed to touch the sorest spot.
With a sharp “clack,” she set the teacup down. “You invited me here just to celebrate your audition success?”
He Song blinked. “Wasn’t that the reason?”
She waited for Mo Qingran to elaborate, but the woman fell silent again. He Song, confused, tried another approach. “Do you need my signature on the revised contract?”
“No rush,” Mo Qingran said. “The contract can wait.”
He Song felt something was definitely wrong. Wasn’t the contract urgent just a few days ago?
“He Song,” Mo Qingran suddenly said coldly. “Even though we’re in a partnership, don’t push your luck. We’re not close enough to be chatting over a casual lunch.”
Wait, what? Weren’t they getting along fine just a while ago?
He Song was completely baffled. She couldn’t recall doing anything wrong. Was this the infamous cold-and-hot personality of the female lead?
She mentally combed through the script, but Mo Qingran was always portrayed as emotionally reserved—no close friends, no personal connections, all business. Dealing with her was like dealing with an AI devoid of feelings.
“I know we’re not that close, but relationships can develop, right? We could be friends.”
“Friends?” Mo Qingran gave a chilly laugh. “And how can I be sure you won’t betray me?”
She hadn’t come today just for a meal—this was a test. She couldn’t tell if the person sitting across from her was still the treacherous Jiang Weiran, hiding behind a new face, or a reborn He Song with a new soul.
“So, it’s a matter of trust, isn’t it?” He Song said calmly.
“I don’t trust you,” Mo Qingran said bluntly.
He Song had expected this, but the words still stung. Her throat tightened as she rasped, “If you don’t trust me, why agree to the marriage contract?”
“I’m beginning to question that choice,” Mo Qingran said, frowning.
He Song swallowed. “If you’re worried I’ll take Mo Yun’s side, there’s something you should know. There’s someone in the Mo residence spying on you for her. I met her once when I went to find Mo Yun—a young woman with a ponytail, a delicate face, and a small red mole on her right wrist.”
Mo Qingran’s expression flickered. She seemed to think of someone and said coldly, “Everyone working in the Mo household has been vetted since I was a child. Nothing’s ever slipped through the cracks.”
He Song shrugged. “Don’t believe me? Then look into it yourself. I’m sure you’ve already thought of someone.”
She had seen the traitor in her dream, and this was the only way to warn Mo Qingran.
In the original story, the theft of classified information from Mo Qingran’s safe had caused significant damage to the Mo Corporation. Everyone assumed Jiang Weiran was behind it, but she didn’t even have the brains or discretion—she was too busy partying. Mo Yun had already written her off.
The real thief had always been the insider, the one hidden in plain sight.
Since the script never named this character, He Song could only rely on identifying features to guide Mo Qingran.
After a long silence, Mo Qingran said indifferently, “I’ll look into it.”
The rest of the meal passed in stifling awkwardness. Their budding relationship seemed to regress overnight, leaving He Song quietly frustrated. She stared at her long legs and muttered internally, I’ve still got work to do if I want to save her.
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One Week Later – Filming Begins for Fenghua Chronicle
He Song wore a white costume patterned with bamboo, ethereal and graceful, a slender silver sword in hand. Her martial arts scenes, though newly practiced, already looked polished.
After the director’s “Cut!” echoed across the set, she exhaled heavily and made her way to the stone steps nearby. Her body was slick with sweat, her stomach queasy after shooting multiple takes of midair combat on wires.
Her assistant, Lili, quickly approached with a thermos. “Sister Song, you were amazing just now. Director Yan said you can take a few hours off for lunch—your next scenes are this afternoon.”
He Song nodded and looked down at her costume. “At this pace, I’ll be switching to the black one tomorrow. A shame—this outfit’s beautiful.”
In the current timeline, Lu Li—the character she played—had not yet lost her family. Still an innocent and upright sect heiress in white robes, she embodied the pure beauty of youth.
The story opened with her traveling the world, punishing corrupt cultivators, believing that those who trained in the arcane arts should use their power to protect the weak and banish evil.
But when she returned home to find her sect slaughtered and the ground soaked in bl00d, her spirit broke. She stopped smiling, stopped wearing white. The clarity in her eyes was replaced by shadows and hatred.
From that moment on, she became one with darkness.
Lili picked up on the wistfulness in her voice. “You look amazing in white and black, Sister Song.”
She wasn’t wrong. He Song’s sharp, sculpted features and old-world elegance made her look like a little celestial being who’d stepped out of a painting.
Especially in the stills where she held a guzheng or struck a sword pose—those went viral on Weibo, with fans swooning over her.
He Song never held back when it came to spoiling fans. If she discovered something delicious or fun, she’d post about it freely, almost like updating a personal blog.
If they wanted to know her, she had no problem sharing her genuine thoughts.
“Song,” Director Yan Zhao called from the monitor. “Come here and take a look.”
Apparently impressed by her professionalism and skill, Yan Zhao had started frequently inviting her to discuss scenes and shots.
He Song understood: this was his way of mentoring her, and she was grateful. She treated him with the utmost respect.
After all, this kind of guidance was rare in an industry full of celebrities and influencers. Big-name directors rarely offered hands-on advice.
In her past life, He Song had never been so lucky. She started as a model, doing bit parts, knocking on every door without connections. Out of ten auditions, only one might offer her a chance—and even that one was precious.
Eventually, her acting chops earned her a small role with only a few seconds of screen time in a film. But that little moment sparked buzz, and she signed with a decent agency. It was her true entry into the industry.
To this day, she remained grateful to the director who first extended her a hand.
She now huddled with the director and screenwriter, reviewing the footage from the morning.
Screenwriter Wu Qing tapped his chin. “I think the take was solid. The choreography was smooth. We can highlight more close-ups in editing to bring out the emotion.”
“Oh right,” Yan Zhao turned to Wu Qing. “Isn’t Yu Dongdong arriving today? Her scenes start tomorrow.”
Yu Dongdong? That name sounded familiar…
Wait—wasn’t she one of Jiang Weiran’s harem members in the original novel?
He Song asked, “Yu Dongdong? She’s playing the second female lead, Wen Xiao?”
“Yeah,” Wu Qing replied. “She originally auditioned for the lead role of Lu Li, and her acting was good. But compared to your image, you were a better fit for Lu Li. She suited Wen Xiao more, so she got that role instead.”
Yan Zhao joked, “If you hadn’t shown up, the lead would’ve gone to her.”
In the original storyline, Jiang Weiran and Yu Dongdong fell in love while filming. Back then, Jiang Weiran played the second female lead and Yu Dongdong was the heroine. With long, closed-off filming schedules, they inevitably saw each other every day.
Unable to suppress her desires, Jiang Weiran, cut off from her outside lovers, set her sights on the lively, charming, and beautiful Yu Dongdong—who coincidentally reminded her of her long-lost white moonlight.
Under that filter, her seduction was swift and relentless.
It started with excuses like “I can’t get out of character,” followed by comforting hugs and emotionally manipulative lines.
And it worked. Eventually, Yu Dongdong gave in, and the two began a secret affair.
Rumors flew, both on set and online. It all came to a head when paparazzi released a photo of them getting cozy. The backlash was immense.
At the time, Jiang Weiran was publicly dating a top girl group idol. Her fanbase was massive and brutal. They went nuclear and dragged Jiang Weiran through the mud.
The result? The drama tanked before it even aired. When it finally did, protests got it pulled from broadcast.
So this was the drama— Fenghua Chronicle.
What a pity. He Song mentally mourned for Director Yan and the crew of the original timeline.
Even though she and Yu Dongdong had switched roles this time, it seemed like her path was still following the original plot.
Seriously—was she subconsciously being pulled along by the script?
The entire production was destroyed because of her and Yu Dongdong’s scandal. Now that Yu Dongdong was arriving tomorrow, she had to keep her distance.