After Cat A Saved the Wrong Female Lead - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: This Birthday, She Didn’t Want the Little One to Spend It Alone

By senior year, most students were either preparing for graduate school or civil service exams, or already off interning somewhere — they barely spent time on campus. That left her advisor with few chances to trip her up, though there was still plenty of room for petty harassment.

Tang Li never had any major academic issues that could be used against her — nothing serious enough to threaten her graduation — so she wasn’t too worried. She vented a little, and quickly moved on without thinking too much of it.

Once she finally wrapped up that project, Tang Li felt like she’d come back to life. The very first thing she did was collapse into her cozy little room and treat herself to a long, restful nap. She slept all the way until 3 p.m. on Saturday, and when she woke up, her class group chat had exploded with over 99 messages and several missed calls.

At the top of the list was Yao Cheche, who had called three times — Tang Li hadn’t answered because her phone was on silent while she slept. The rest were spam numbers. She skimmed through the barrage of messages from Yao Cheche, which mostly echoed the same thing being discussed in the class chat:

Associate Professor Li Zhijuan from the Design Department had been reported for embezzling public funds and abusing her position. The school had officially announced her suspension pending investigation.

Li Zhijuan was the one who had sent her off to pick up Senior Nan. She was known to have quite a few connections within the department. Honestly, anyone who’d been working that long was bound to have built a solid network — which was why these power-plays against newer students were so common.

She had tried to use Tang Li as a social pawn, and when Tang Li refused to play along and walked out, Li Zhijuan’s face must’ve darkened. No wonder she’d lost her temper afterward. But for someone like her to act that boldly, she must’ve had a safety net. Tang Li wasn’t naïve enough to believe that a long-tenured associate professor could be suspended so easily unless the report had serious weight behind it.

So she called Yao Cheche back.

Yao Cheche picked up instantly, flustered and panicked:

“Ali, I know what I did before was wrong, but I swear — I really thought of you as a friend! We’ve been close for so long. You can’t be that ruthless — can’t you leave some room for me to breathe?”

Tang Li was completely confused. She hadn’t even said a word yet when the other girl, having played the pity card, suddenly shifted tone — now part warning, part veiled threat. She implied that if Tang Li really told everything to Professor Li, then she wouldn’t hold back either.

“And besides — that senior is gorgeous. Didn’t you tell me about her yourself? If you hadn’t mentioned it, how would I have thought to set you up?”

Now Tang Li finally grasped what was going on. Putting the pieces together, she realized why Yao Cheche had been so desperately contacting her — and why Li Zhijuan had pulled her in to meet that senior out of the blue. So it had been thanks to this “kind introduction” from a so-called friend.

Should she be saying thank you to Yao Cheche?

If Cheche could connect her to Li Zhijuan, then clearly their relationship was closer than your average student-professor dynamic. Now that Li had been taken down, she might lash out like a rabid dog. Maybe Yao Cheche was holding some dirty secrets, and wanted Tang Li to bail her out.

After being tormented by clients the past few days, Tang Li’s sarcasm skills had leveled up significantly. She coolly replied:

“You’re hopeless. Pick a classy way to go down. Goodbye.”

Before Yao Cheche could call again, Tang Li hung up and blocked her number. Then she blocked her on WeChat, QQ, and every other social platform she could think of.

Finally, the world went quiet again.

Up to this point, the original host of this body hadn’t done anything truly out of line. Even if Yao Cheche wanted to drag her down, she’d need the means and the guts to do it — and a whiny, manipulative person like her wasn’t worth fearing.

Compared to her, Tang Li was far more curious about who had enough power to report Li Zhijuan and get her suspended so swiftly.

Could it have been Xiaoyu?

The thought crossed her mind but was quickly dismissed. Xiaoyu was just a diligent, hardworking employee — back then, she’d been sympathetic and complained a bit on Tang Li’s behalf, but that was it. If she really had the clout to take down a top university professor, she wouldn’t have gone through all those struggles in the first place.

Still, with Li Zhijuan taken down and Yao Cheche scrambling to save herself, neither of the people who messed with her ended up with a happy ending. Tang Li happily lit fireworks in her heart and sent a screenshot of the school’s official announcement to Qin Shiyang to share the good news.

….

On the other side, Qin Shiyang wasn’t in the best mood.

Pei Xuan, her assistant, also served as her secretary and personal aide — handling everything from official matters to daily life. So any updates usually went through her first.

Qin Shiyang had just finished a meeting when Pei Xuan walked in with a folder in hand, face calm:

“Yang An arranged a meeting with a prospective match for you. She didn’t say outright that it’s a blind date — there’s a bit of business overlap involved. But you’ll have to meet him.”

Yang An was Qin Shiyang’s second cousin-in-law — also an Omega — and a master at keeping up appearances. The elders in their family loved seeing unity and harmony among the younger generation, so even when there were rivalries, no one dared to openly fall out.

A “casual meeting” like this wasn’t overtly forceful, but if she refused too bluntly, she’d be seen as inconsiderate. It was a textbook move — retreating in order to advance. As soon as she stepped out of the meeting, Qin Shiyang felt as though she’d been slimed by a snake — uncomfortable and hard to shake off.

The power dynamics were already largely settled, but as long as there was even a sliver of room for reversal, those eyeing her position would try to pull her down — to divide the spoils or claim them entirely. Scheming openly or playing dirty behind the scenes — she was long used to it after years in the family.

“Who is it?”

“Third son of the Bai family — Bai Guanle.”

Qin Shiyang didn’t react to the name. It was like reading a word off paper — meaningless. She simply said “Mm,” acknowledging she’d heard. To outsiders, the Omega might’ve looked a little tired — eyelids lowered, long lashes casting shadows — making it impossible to see the coldness buried deep in her gaze.

But Pei Xuan, who knew her well, could tell: she was angry.

Qin Shiyang hated others making decisions for her. It wasn’t mere rebelliousness — it was a lifelong trait. What she set her sights on, she would cling to.

As a child, if she wanted a toy, she’d pout and whine to her mom. But once the shade of parental protection was gone, she had to grow up fast — building armor from premature maturity, seizing what she wanted instead of waiting to be given it.

Back then, if she didn’t want something, she’d make a fuss. But that was long ago. Now, she accepted everything — good or bad — and buried her emotions beneath a calm exterior.

Pei Xuan put the folder down, assuming the conversation was over, and was about to quietly leave. But just before she shut the door, she heard Qin Shiyang ask:

“When’s the meeting?”

“Thursday night. Dinner.”

Upon hearing that, Qin Shiyang immediately declined:

“Not Thursday.”

“Fantasy Era” was one of the industry leaders domestically. As its CEO, Qin Shiyang’s schedule was always packed — weekend overtime was the norm. Just a few days ago, she’d asked Pei Xuan to try keeping a few hours free on one of her weekend days — wanting some private time to decompress, which was understandable for someone in her position.

But now she was refusing specifically Thursday. That raised Pei Xuan’s curiosity.

She glanced down at the message Tang Li had sent, opened her profile, and saw the little cake icon with the note: “Birthday coming soon.”

Tang Li hadn’t mentioned it, but Qin Shiyang had looked into it during a previous investigation. Many rumors surrounding the girl were uncertain, but one thing was clear — Yao Cheche had likely been one of her very few friends.

Probably a former friend now.

When she noticed that little detail, a thought sparked in Qin Shiyang’s mind — at the very least, this birthday, she didn’t want that fascinating little girl to spend it alone.

Which only made her all the more firm when she turned to her assistant and confirmed:

“Not Thursday.”