After Differentiating into an Alpha, I Marked My Love Rival - Chapter 11

Speak of the devil.

Just as Ji Yongshu had this thought, her phone dinged with the notification sound of a new WeChat message.

Assuming it was from Bai Yingying, Ji Yongshu casually unlocked her screen, only to find it was from the very person she’d just been thinking about.

Jiang Zhiluo: Did you need something, Miss Ji?

The moment Ji Yongshu saw this message, a strange thought flashed through her mind.

Weren’t you calling me “sister” before? Now it’s “Miss Ji”?

Ji Yongshu shook her head, dismissing this inappropriate thought. She must be bewitched—Jiang Zhiluo wasn’t that close to her, so “Miss Ji” was perfectly appropriate.

But why would Jiang Zhiluo suddenly send such an out-of-context message?

Only when Ji Yongshu opened the chat did she see the small text notification: [You patted “Jiang Zhiluo”]. She must have accidentally tapped Jiang Zhiluo’s avatar while playing the audio earlier.

No wonder Jiang Zhiluo had asked.

Lying back comfortably with her legs crossed and toes wiggling in the air, Ji Yongshu lazily replied: Just a mis-click.

After sending it, she exited to find several messages from Bai Yingying asking when she’d be home.

Typing a reply with one hand, Ji Yongshu’s other hand drifted to her scent gland, fingertips brushing against the slightly rough texture of the suppressant patch.

Yet despite the barrier, heat radiated from the gland. A gentle press brought a sore, aching discomfort, like overworked muscles.

Perhaps from forcibly using her pheromones earlier, waves of heat now pulsed through her body.

She felt trapped in a massive steamer—scorching warmth spreading outward from within yet finding no release from this unbearable burning.

Her heartbeat quickened. It was as if a wild beast with bared fangs was caged inside her, desperate to break free.

Unsatisfied.

That was Ji Yongshu’s overwhelming sensation.

She couldn’t articulate what she craved, only this gnawing emptiness—a gaping hole in her chest demanding to be filled.

The partition between seats rose silently; her bodyguard and driver remained unaware. Beads of sweat formed as Ji Yongshu resisted opening the window, fearing her pheromones might escape.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to calm down and slowly typed: Mom, have Dr. Zhao wait for me at home.

Bai Yingying replied instantly: Okay.

No questions asked. They both knew Dr. Zhao wouldn’t be summoned unless necessary.

Fanning herself, Ji Yongshu exhaled sharply, seeking distraction from her body’s changes.

Just then, Jiang Zhiluo messaged again:

Miss Ji, do you like pets?

Ji Yongshu’s family kept a Czechoslovakian Wolfdog—a majestic creature brought home by Ji Fengchu that Bai Yingying adored. She vaguely recalled posting its photos before.

Her reply was noncommittal: They’re alright.

To be honest, Ji Yongshu’s replies weren’t particularly warm and could easily kill the conversation. Fortunately, the person on the other end didn’t mind her aloofness and kept finding new topics.

Small animals are always so soft and cuddly.

Having a pet really helps pass the time when living alone.

Ji Yongshu didn’t comment on her views, merely responding with a cold: Mhm.

In truth, she actually agreed with Jiang Zhiluo’s perspective. When Ji Fengchu brought home that Czech Wolfdog puppy, Ji Yongshu had been the happiest, diligently feeding the little pup goat milk every day.

Ji Fengchu had originally arranged for two people to take care of the puppy, but later found it unnecessary—Ji Yongshu single-handedly took over all the tasks.

Except for cleaning and scooping poop.

That was the troublesome part with puppies—they had to be trained, otherwise they’d relieve themselves everywhere. Thankfully, that wasn’t something Ji Yongshu had to worry about, as there were professional dog trainers for that.

Ji Yongshu liked small animals and enjoyed the satisfaction of slowly raising a pet.

But these were things she saw no need to share with Jiang Zhiluo, her nominal rival in love.

However, Jiang Zhiluo then sent over two photos of a chubby little Labrador.

Tiny and curled up in a cardboard box, it tilted its head and wriggled around, its small ears tinged with a faint pink.

Ji Yongshu stared at the crude cardboard box for a few seconds before slowly furrowing her brows. You’re keeping it?

Jiang Zhiluo didn’t type a reply but instead sent a voice message, which Ji Yongshu played immediately. The next second, the car was filled with the woman’s gentle, melodious voice: “A friend gave it to me.”

“It just arrived this morning.”

Jiang Zhiluo seemed a little embarrassed, pausing before adding with a hint of frustration, “I’m not sure how to take care of it yet.”

From the background noise, Ji Yongshu could hear the puppy’s whimpers—soft, hungry little cries.

Instead of typing, she directly initiated a video call.

Jiang Zhiluo answered quickly. After the camera wobbled slightly, Jiang Zhiluo’s delicate, fair face appeared on the screen. “Miss Ji?”

Ji Yongshu pressed a hand to her throbbing temple, propping her head up with her fingers, her voice tinged with drowsy hoarseness: “Video is more convenient.”

Jiang Zhiluo curved her lips into a smile. Dressed in casual homewear—a loose knit sweater paired with her slightly wavy long hair—her gentle charm was even more pronounced.

Her ears bore no adornments, her earlobes like small, soft pastries, flawlessly pale, drawing Ji Yongshu’s gaze more than once in the shaky footage.

Ji Yongshu closed her eyes briefly before tilting her chin up. “Show me the dog.”

Jiang Zhiluo obediently switched the camera to the whimpering puppy, hesitating as she said, “I think it’s hungry.”

Ji Yongshu hummed in acknowledgment, her eyes fixed on the little pup on the screen, her tone calm. “Puppies can drink goat milk formula. Make sure it’s not too hot or too cold—lukewarm is best.”

Jiang Zhiluo listened like an attentive student, immediately nodding and murmuring in agreement as soon as Ji Yongshu finished speaking.

Ji Yongshu continued, “You should prepare a soft, comfortable dog bed for it. If you don’t have one yet, the cardboard box is fine temporarily, but line it with a soft blanket so it doesn’t catch a chill.”

The camera suddenly shook, rising slightly higher from the ground as Jiang Zhiluo stood up.

“I’m afraid I might forget, so I wanted to find some paper and pen to write it down,” she explained softly.

“Mhm.” Ji Yongshu watched her lazily. While Jiang Zhiluo searched for the items, Ji Yongshu took the opportunity to glance around her home.

It suddenly occurred to Ji Yongshu that Jiang Zhiluo had mentioned living alone. Her place was sparsely furnished, with no signs of another occupant.

So, had her friend given her the puppy to keep her company?

Ji Yongshu wasn’t feeling well, and her thoughts moved sluggishly. She didn’t realize she was pondering something she’d normally consider trivial.

Only after Jiang Zhiluo retrieved the paper and pen did Ji Yongshu continue with her instructions.

The scene on the phone shifted to Jiang Zhiluo writing.

The omega’s wrist was slender, hidden beneath loose sleeves, revealing only a pale, jade-like hand. Her knuckles carried a faint pink hue, as if brushed with rouge.

But Ji Yongshu only noticed her handwriting.

Jiang Zhiluo’s script was elegant—fluid, natural, and pleasing to the eye, with a distinctive style in every stroke.

Rarely one to offer praise, Ji Yongshu remarked, “Your handwriting is nice.”

Jiang Zhiluo seemed flustered. Her fingers fidgeted with the pen, unconsciously dotting the paper with two small black marks.

Her voice was soft and gentle, and perhaps because she was close to the phone, Ji Yongshu could even hear the omega’s light breaths and the unconsciously drawn-out lilt at the end of her words.

“When I was little, my handwriting was awful. My mom made me practice with countless copybooks.”

Ji Yongshu chuckled quietly.

Maybe it was because her mood today was unusually good, but she felt no irritation at all. Seeing Jiang Zhiluo’s natural shyness, she even found the omega somewhat… endearing.

No wonder Zhou Yi liked her so much.

The puppy yelped again. Jiang Zhiluo set down the pen and stood, quickly walking to a cabinet to pull down a large bag, rummaging through it.

As she searched, she explained to Ji Yongshu, “My friend sent all this over. There should be some goat milk powder in here.”

Eventually, it must have become too inconvenient, so Jiang Zhiluo placed the phone on the living room coffee table.

Ji Yongshu should have hung up—after all, she’d said all she needed to say, and what followed had nothing to do with her.

But she didn’t. She simply watched quietly as Jiang Zhiluo bustled about.

Truthfully, she didn’t have to explain so much to Jiang Zhiluo in the first place. They weren’t even close.

Ji Yongshu found an excuse for herself: she was bored.

If she didn’t distract herself with something, how else would she endure the trip?

Whether Jiang Zhiluo had forgotten or not, the phone remained on the table, its camera capturing the living room and allowing Ji Yongshu to observe her busy figure.

From the bag, Jiang Zhiluo retrieved the goat milk powder and a small bottle.

Soon, her figure disappeared from view—likely to fetch hot water.

Ji Yongshu still didn’t end the call. Listening to the puppy’s persistent yips through the receiver, she told herself:

She was just concerned about the dog.

Jiang Zhiluo returned quickly, holding a baby bottle filled with prepared goat’s milk. She first sat down on the carpet before carefully cradling the puppy in her arms.

Ji Yongshu could tell she was stiff and awkward—clearly doing this for the first time.

She held the puppy with extreme care, afraid of hurting it. When the puppy whimpered, Jiang Zhiluo gently stroked its head and solemnly comforted, “Don’t be scared, Mama will feed you soon.”

Ji Yongshu couldn’t hold back another chuckle.

It seemed Jiang Zhiluo had only just remembered someone was watching. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, turning even the soft lobes of her ears completely red.

The flustered omega had an unusual charm about her. Her peach-blossom eyes glistened with moisture as she openly displayed her emotions before Ji Yongshu—shyness and delight.

For a moment, Ji Yongshu was stunned into silence.

Once the puppy started drinking, it finally settled down.

Neither spoke on either end of the call, and the atmosphere grew quiet.

Jiang Zhiluo lowered her head to look at the puppy in her arms, her long, thick lashes veiling the emotions in her eyes.

After watching her for a long while, Ji Yongshu suddenly asked:

“Jiang Zhiluo.”

“Do you like Zhou Yi?”