After Getting Pregnant, I Fought for a Divorce from My Alpha - Chapter 26

Before the incident, he hadn’t felt it, but thinking about it now—trending searches, popularity—all of it felt like fleeting clouds. What An Xiangdi feared and dreaded the most was how to deal with his parents.

His mom, Ding Mei, was still okay. Say a few sweet words, act a little spoiled, and she’d probably let it slide.

But his dad, An Hongxian, was much harder to handle. He would definitely pull him into a dramatic cryfest, wailing about how such a huge matter wasn’t told to the family. Despite being a classical music scholar, he was a complete doting father.

“We’ll deal with it when it comes.” An Xiangdi rubbed his forehead, came up with a few makeshift countermeasures, and could already picture his dad bawling with snot and tears.

“Alright. Do you need me to come over now?” Shen Xiao originally planned to say he would shift everything to Zhongming City to handle matters there, but he occasionally wanted to hear An Xiangdi act spoiled.

“No need.” Of course, An Xiangdi wouldn’t say he needed to rely on his Alpha for everything. That would make him seem useless.

Shen Xiao sounded a bit helpless. “Alright, I got it.”

He might say “no need,” but whether or not he came was up to Shen Xiao to decide.

After hanging up, An Xiangdi tidied up a bit. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Yao Honglang standing with arms crossed at the doorway, and beside him stood Wei Yi, who’d been stopped outside. The other staff were probably all “sent away” by Yao Honglang.

Wei Yi’s gaze toward An Xiangdi was completely different from yesterday’s—not with Alpha possessiveness toward an Omega, but more like… heartbreak?

“Why are you looking at me like that? Secretly in love with me?” The thought gave An Xiangdi the chills.

Wei Yi raised his voice. “An Xiangdi! I thought we were life-and-death, close-bonded brothers! And now? Now—”

“You not only tricked him into thinking you were an Alpha, but also made him believe you just didn’t want to hang out with him,” Yao Honglang cut in.

“…Wait, how do you always know what I’m gonna say?” Wei Yi pointed at Yao Honglang, completely shocked.

“You repeated that exact line in my ear for five minutes. What, you think I’m deaf?” Yao Honglang was seriously annoyed by artists like Wei Yi who talked endlessly. Since the guy came over and wouldn’t leave, he hadn’t given him a good face once.

“When did I ever lie about being an Alpha? You couldn’t even smell it yourself, and now it’s my fault?” An Xiangdi’s comeback immediately plunged the gullible Wei Yi into self-doubt.

Later, Wei Yi ended up hitching a ride to the set in An Xiangdi’s nanny van, sitting right next to him the whole way, sniffing—only to smell nothing at all.

The Faded Season crew had put up barricades around the set for filming privacy, so reporters couldn’t get inside.

But there were still many journalists stationed at the entrance. As soon as the nanny van arrived, they swarmed the vehicle.

“An Xiangdi, can you clarify the trending Weibo post?”

“Are you really pregnant?”

“As an Alpha, how could you get pregnant? Are you actually an Omega?”

…

Most of the time, entertainment reporters were a very annoying profession—and as the target, that annoyance doubled.

Yao Honglang honked several times in warning, and the studio security quickly rushed over to surround and restrain the reporters. He stepped on the gas and drove straight in.

The sudden acceleration jolted An Xiangdi back in his seat, and nausea quickly rose in his stomach.

“Seriously, these reporters—”

“Ugh…” An Xiangdi covered his mouth, tears forming in the corners of his eyes from discomfort.

Wei Yi didn’t even get to finish his complaint. He panicked and reached out, then belatedly realized something was wrong and fumbled through the seat pouch for a plastic bag.

“…I’m fine.” An Xiangdi pushed away the bag he handed over. He didn’t really want to vomit; his stomach was just unsettled and acidic.

“For real… morning sickness?” Wei Yi had still been half-doubting even after seeing the trending topic that morning—even when An Xiangdi had admitted it face-to-face. But now, the man was dry-heaving right in front of him.

Wei Yi couldn’t help but glance at An Xiangdi’s belly. “How many months? Doesn’t look like it…”

“About two,” An Xiangdi replied faintly after recovering a bit.

“Oh… then no wonder it doesn’t show.” Wei Yi nodded like he understood.

An Xiangdi didn’t bother correcting him. He slouched back against the seat and chewed on some sour jujubes from the console.

Yao Honglang parked the car and accompanied An Xiangdi onto the set.

The staff inside had been chatting in hushed tones, but the moment they saw An Xiangdi, silence fell. All eyes instinctively drifted to his still-flat stomach.

“An Xiangdi, come with me for a moment,” said Director Wang Xiu, putting down what he was doing and walking over.

An Xiangdi hummed in acknowledgment and followed him to the lounge.

“I just have one question for you,” said Wang Xiu seriously.

“Please ask.” The director had checked the validity of the trending topic earlier that morning but hadn’t pressed for more at the time. An Xiangdi had been surprised he didn’t.

“Will it affect filming—your scenes, I mean?” Wang Xiu had little interest in gossip.

“No. According to the normal production schedule, we should wrap up in early July, right?” An Xiangdi remembered his calendar well.

“Good. Go get changed, then.” Wang Xiu lightly patted his shoulder.

“Director Wang,” An Xiangdi suddenly spoke up, “If you want to replace me, I—”

“Why would I replace you?” Wang Xiu looked at him like he was ridiculous.

An Xiangdi thought that the trending topic must’ve been bad for the production.

“You don’t want to act anymore?”

“Of course not.” Though he hadn’t filmed much, he truly loved this drama and had no intention of quitting midway.

“If it were a real scandal that ruined the show, I’d understand. But this? It’s just your gender—what’s the big deal? In this industry, people lie about their gender, age, family background, personal history—am I supposed to chase down each one?” Wang Xiu waved it off. “We’re here to make a drama. If it’s a good one and the actors have solid skills and good character, that’s what matters.”

“…Yes.”

“And honestly, I think this might even help you. If your agent thought it was a bad thing, would he have let you come out today? As far as I know, Yao Honglang doesn’t work that way.” Wang Xiu had worked with several of Yao’s past artists and knew he’d have blacklisted someone long ago if they were problematic.

For the first time, An Xiangdi was a bit embarrassed. He scratched the back of his head. “Then I’ll go get changed.”

“Oh—if the clothes are too tight, it’s fine to ask wardrobe to adjust them.” Wang Xiu was a Beta who’d been single his whole life and had no idea which stage of pregnancy An Xiangdi was in.

“No need. I’ll probably wrap filming before I even start showing.” An Xiangdi explained awkwardly, then quickly left to change.

After getting dressed and sitting down to have his makeup touched up, he received several messages from fellow cast members offering concern. An Xiao even gave him several pregnancy tips for Omegas. Normally aloof Ying Chong even came by with questions.

“What does your pheromone smell like? Why can’t I smell anything?” Ying Chong was confused. From the start of the shoot, he’d been curious about An Xiangdi’s so-called “mysterious scent,” but he’d never been able to detect anything. Now that An Xiangdi had “become” an Omega, he was even more curious.

“I have to maintain my public image.” An Xiangdi parried with the excuse his agency had always used.

Ying Chong didn’t get the answer he wanted and looked visibly disappointed.

Even the usually humorless Yao Honglang made fun of him: “You’re this gossipy?”

“Well, no one else is keeping me in check.” Ying Chong answered shamelessly.

The two exchanged a smile like old friends catching up.

The scene was rare. An Xiangdi openly observed them in the mirror. An Xiao, seeing his curiosity, explained, “Yao-ge used to mentor both me and Teacher Ying.”

“Huh?” An Xiangdi didn’t quite believe it. Yao Honglang looked way younger than Ying Chong.

“Technically, he only guided us. He’s in his thirties and has eaten more salt in this industry than most of us have eaten rice.” Noticing his worried glance, An Xiao added, “Don’t worry about the trending stuff—with Yao-ge around, it won’t be a problem.”

“Mm.” Now that everything was exposed, An Xiangdi actually felt less anxious—things were turning out much better than he’d feared.

“Ah! Teacher An, I’m so sorry!” the makeup artist cried. Her hand had slipped and drawn his eyebrow too long. She quickly apologized and grabbed a cotton pad to clean it up.

An Xiangdi looked at himself in the mirror. Half his makeup would need to be redone. “It’s okay.”

Yao Honglang cast a glance over. “Be more careful.”

The chastised makeup artist bowed her head and muttered another apology.

As her hand passed in front of him, An Xiangdi noticed a ring on her finger. For some reason, it looked familiar.

Maybe it was just his imagination.

Once all preparations were done, the filming resumed in a smooth and orderly pace. Even Wei Yi, who usually dragged down the scenes, had improved significantly after getting some tips from Shen Xiao the day before.

During the lunch break, An Xiangdi barely ate a few bites and sat aside checking his messages.

– Xiao Xiao: Finished eating?

– Flute: Yeah.

– Xiao Xiao: What did you eat?

– Flute: Rice.

– Xiao Xiao: Just rice?

– Flute: And vegetables.

– Xiao Xiao: What kind of vegetables?

An Xiangdi couldn’t keep up the bluff. The crew meals, meant to fuel everyone, were heavy and greasy. Lots of meat, which was exactly what he couldn’t stomach now. He’d only eaten a small piece of meat before putting the rest aside.

When Xiao Gu was still around, he’d carry a whole bag of nutritional supplements for him. Xiao Gu was probably already on a bus back to college by now.

Yao Honglang was great at managing careers, but in other areas, he was a complete iron-willed Beta—An Xiangdi didn’t expect any special “pregnancy care” from him.

An Xiao had noticed his appetite and even offered to go buy food. Not wanting to be a bother, he lied and said he was full.

He’d already spent the whole morning being observed like an endangered species—if he made a fuss over lunch, he’d probably be downgraded from rare species to zoo animal.

The ringtone went off again. An Xiangdi figured Shen Xiao was calling because he hadn’t replied.

“Come out.”

“…Huh?” He glanced at the studio entrance.

“Your automatic meal delivery man is outside waiting.” Shen Xiao stood by the car, one hand holding a thermal lunchbox, the other a phone, leaning casually against the door.

Still full of doubt and suspicion, An Xiangdi stepped outside.

“Come, eat.” Shen Xiao hung up and stretched his hand toward him.