After Getting Pregnant, I Fought for a Divorce from My Alpha - Chapter 12
An Xiangdi had originally planned to take a few days off at home in Zhongming City during his schedule gap, but before he could even board the plane, he was bombarded by a flurry of group messages from the drama crew.
Makeup Artist Xiaojia: What’s going on? Why is our drama trending?!
Extra Actor Xiao Yi: Seems like it’s about the reposting on Weibo.
Editor Xiaodong: Huh? What repost?
Director Cao Xuan: If you want gossip, go on Weibo. Now get back to work!
Editor Xiaodong: Okay, okay, on it! Don’t be mad, Director Cao!
After Cao Xuan spoke, the group chat went quiet for a bit. An Xiangdi’s curiosity was piqued, though not enough for him to go check Weibo just yet.
Until Xiao Gu beside him whispered, “Teacher An… the online buzz isn’t great. They’re saying you and Teacher Shen didn’t repost the official wrap-up Weibo.”
“Ah?” An Xiangdi swiped open his phone with his slender fingers and tapped into the trending hashtag #HiddenEyesWrapUpPost.
The post had gone up last night. After the wrap party, there were a few minor supporting scenes left to shoot. Once Director Cao Xuan finished filming with the smaller cast, the team’s PR posted a group photo from the official wrap on Weibo.
Soon, every named actor in the drama had reposted the official post—except for the two leads, An Xiangdi and Shen Xiao.
Shen Xiao had been genuinely busy—he’d flown out of Hangnan City straight into an ad shoot. An Xiangdi, on the other hand, had just gotten through his heat and was still in post-heat exhaustion.
After a full day with no reposts from the leads, the originally promotional trending post was twisted by marketing accounts into rumors that the two leads had a falling out with the crew, even reviving earlier gossip about discord on set. The gossip-hungry netizens ran with it.
Leaning on one hand, An Xiangdi, not wanting to cause trouble for the crew, casually hit “repost.”
Right after, he switched over to Shen Xiao’s account and reposted it again with the same caption.
Having done that, An Xiangdi pulled down his sleep mask and quickly fell asleep.
Meanwhile, CP (couple pairing) fans went absolutely wild over this move.
Daily Sugar Girl: Same post, one after the other, same caption, same client—did they sleep together last night or what?!
Cough Cough Cough: LOL @ the girl above, your account’s about to get nuked
Peach Oolong: I don’t care, I’m shipping them -v-
Toothache Lord: Too sweet I’m crying qwq
…
By the time An Xiangdi got off the plane, the post had already vanished from the trending list—likely suppressed by Shen Xiao’s team.
Though he had no immediate work scheduled, An Xiangdi wasn’t idle at home. The song he recorded before the new year had taken a long time to produce. It released in mid-March and was still topping domestic charts while gaining international recognition.
The hit song had many music programs reaching out directly—some even bypassing his agent entirely.
An Xiangdi eventually signed with a high-quality, popular music show. After that, he stayed home writing music.
On April 20, after shooting the May cover for Cisheng magazine, he was told by Xiao Gu on the ride back that he needed to go to the company.
“Brother Li says you need to record something.” Xiao Gu showed him the message.
An Xiangdi didn’t even look. “Let’s go.”
“I heard they brought in a pretty decent producer this time,” Xiao Gu added.
An Xiangdi didn’t expect much from his agency and just kept his head down, replying to Shen Xiao’s messages.
Xiao Xiao: I’ll pick you up at your company tonight.
Flute: Why?
Xiao Xiao: Let’s go eat.
Flute: ?
Flute: What’s the occasion?
Xiao Xiao: I miss you.
His fingertip hovered over the screen for a while before he finally replied:
Flute: chop.gif
But his lips were curling up into a smile.
At the company, An Xiangdi went straight to the 30th floor recording studio.
Royal Entertainment had originally specialized in TV and film—they were amateurs in music. Their attempts at branching into music didn’t make a splash until An Xiangdi came along and established a system of sorts for their singers. So even if the company treated him harshly, they still gave him his own private studio.
It was small, but fully equipped.
An Xiangdi used to spend hours there when in a bad mood, tinkering with the gear and instruments.
But today, he arrived to find unfamiliar equipment—and a stranger.
Young, good-looking, and clearly of high status.
“Come here,” said Li Guan, barely glancing at An Xiangdi.
“This is An Xiangdi,” he introduced. “And this is your junior, Zhao Zeyun. He’ll be observing your session today.”
“Hello, Teacher An.”
“Why?”
The question came out of both their mouths at the same time. An Xiangdi shot Zhao Zeyun an unwelcoming look—his gut rejected the guy.
Zhao Zeyun was short, but didn’t seem the least bit flustered by the hostility. He kept smiling.
“Zhao Zeyun is very talented musically. He just graduated at 18 from the top music school, Bowen Conservatory. He’s here to study under you before officially debuting with his new album,” Li Guan boasted like he was the one debuting.
“You won’t learn anything from me.” An Xiangdi, born to a classical music researcher father and pianist mother, had been steeped in music his whole life. A natural talent, he could whip up perfect melodies with a few fingers, though his work often veered off into quirky, electronic hybrids—not something most people could emulate.
This time, Zhao Zeyun didn’t wait for Li Guan to respond. He said, “Let me try first. Whether it’s singing or the spirit behind it, there’s something to learn.”
An Xiangdi gave him a sidelong glance, then pushed open the studio door.
He always recorded in one go—no matter how people disliked his arrogant personality, they couldn’t deny his musical gift.
A 3.5-minute song. He nailed it in one perfect take.
“Learn anything?” An Xiangdi asked, drinking water as he looked at Zhao Zeyun.
Zhao Zeyun’s once-confident face had gone pale. He was clearly shaken.
An Xiangdi repeated what he’d said earlier: “I told you—there’s nothing for you to learn from me.”
Li Guan looked heartbroken for Zhao Zeyun and, despite being afraid of An Xiangdi, stiffened his neck and barked, “An Xiangdi, you’re an Alpha! Can’t you speak more gently to an Omega?! Do you have to be so harsh?”
No wonder—fair-skinned, soft-spoken little Omegas like this, maybe An Xiangdi just had a curse with them lately?
“Sexist much? Got something against Alphas?” An Xiangdi shoved his hand into his pocket, temper rising. “Or are you just trying to start drama?”
“You—!”
An Xiangdi had had enough of his fake bravado. “Xiao Gu, let’s go.”
“Ah! Coming!” By now, Xiao Gu could tell Li Guan was deliberately making trouble for An Xiangdi. Any respect he’d once had for the man was gone.
As the two walked off, Li Guan shamelessly turned to Zhao Zeyun. “Young master, why even bother with him? Just shelve him or sue him for breach of contract. He’s broken it plenty.”
“That wouldn’t be fun,” Zhao Zeyun’s once-gentle face twisted slightly. “Might as well learn a bit first.”
After leaving the Royal building, An Xiangdi found a quiet corner in a coffee shop.
Xiao Gu knew Shen Xiao was coming to pick him up and wasn’t sure if he should leave.
“Sit. Have some coffee,” An Xiangdi said, calling over the waiter to order two mochas.
Xiao Gu stayed quiet, thinking An Xiangdi was in a bad mood. But just as he was trying to come up with something to comfort him, he looked up and heard repeated “Good! Amazing!” coming from An Xiangdi’s phone—he was playing Candy Crush.
“Uh… Teacher An?”
“Mm?” came the muffled reply.
“Should I… leave? Since Teacher Shen is coming. I don’t want to intrude.”
“Sure, I was just buying you coffee.” An Xiangdi didn’t even look up.
Feeling confused, Xiao Gu left the café, staring at the coffee cup in his hands for a long time. Could it be… that proud Teacher An was actually thanking him?
Nah. He was probably just overthinking it.
By the time An Xiangdi reached level 888 in Candy Crush, Shen Xiao arrived—wearing a white jacket, sharply contrasting An Xiangdi’s all-black outfit.
“What’s wrong?” Shen Xiao instantly sensed something was off.
“Let’s go. I’m starving.” An Xiangdi didn’t answer, just put away his phone and walked out.
“What happened this afternoon?” Shen Xiao frowned.
“Don’t want to talk about it.” An Xiangdi shot him a glance.
“Someone else was in the studio? Sharing it?” Shen Xiao guessed it immediately.
“What are you, the worm in my gut?” An Xiangdi gave him a look.
“Exactly.” Shen Xiao grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the car. “I told you before—change agencies. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“No.” An Xiangdi was stubborn. He knew Shen Xiao’s solution likely involved pulling favors from his own father—but Shen Xiao and his dad didn’t get along. To An Xiangdi, it wasn’t help, it was trouble. “Once this song drops, I’ll file for contract termination.”
“The penalty…”
“I’ll pay it. I’ve got the money.” From the moment someone else walked into his studio today, he was done. If throwing money could fix it—fine.
“…Okay.” Shen Xiao pursed his lips, eyes dark with thought.
As the car pulled out, An Xiangdi spotted Zhao Zeyun from a distance. “Hey, do you know that guy?”
“Nope.” Shen Xiao glanced over—no recollection at all.
“Looks like he’s my bad peach blossom.” An Xiangdi leaned on the window with a teasing tone.
To him, Zhao Zeyun was just a kid pretending to be sweet—probably scheming ten ways to cause trouble.
Why? Maybe because An Xiangdi was too good-looking?
Shen Xiao’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. With a sudden brake, he shattered An Xiangdi’s train of thought.
He undid his seatbelt and leaned close. “Say that again?”
“I said, he’s my bad peach blossom,” An Xiangdi repeated mischievously. “Why? Jealous?”
Before he could finish, Shen Xiao silenced him with a fierce kiss.
An Xiangdi’s eyes reddened, mind spinning, while Shen Xiao released a flood of brandy-sweet pheromones to suppress him.
As An Xiangdi’s vision cleared, Shen Xiao pressed a thumb against the already well-bitten gland on his neck.
“Still dare to say nonsense next time?”
Looking at Shen Xiao’s domineering, handsome face, An Xiangdi could only curse in his heart:
Damn, his Alpha is so freaking hot.