After My Contract Marriage with the Aloof Omega (GL , ABO) - Chapter 1

ILoveRabbitHead: [“This Lu Qingzhuo has no shame! How dare she copy Yanyan’s wink!”]

NeverForgetFan: [“She’s so brazen, flaunting it right in front of the original creator.”]

Yanyan’sDog: [“Her nose is so high clearly fake. Lu Qingzhuo should just disappear!”]

The comments section was flooded with hate, the messages lined up like soldiers in formation.

Lu Qingzhuo scrolled through her phone with slender, pale fingers, then gently tapped her nose with a soft fingertip. Frowning, she muttered to herself, “My nose is 100% natural. Stay jealous.”

The film festival was halfway through, and as expected, this year’s Golden Crane Award went to the rising star Ye Ran.

Lu Qingzhuo wasn’t particularly interested. She was only attending as a formality, forced by her manager Su Lan to “expand her horizons” and “network.”

She sucked on a lollipop, the wrapper boldly labeled “sugar-free,” yet she savored it all the same, her cheeks puffing adorably from the side.

Her assistant Xie Yun, armed with a laggy old phone, managed to snap a rare decent photo despite her usual shaky, Parkinson’s-level photography skills.

“Wow! Lu Lu, look! I made you look like a lazy, gorgeous queen!”

“Aren’t I always a queen?”

Lu Qingzhuo idly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, glanced at the moody, grunge-style photo Xie Yun took, and asked her to send it over.

“Forward it to me. I’ll post it later and rack up a hundred thousand reposts.”

“But…”

Xie Yun hesitated, her sharp eyes catching the hate comments on Lu’s screen. Pointing at one particularly vicious username, she fumed, “This ‘Yanyan’sDog’ her idol is Jiang Yanwei! That green-tea omega who stole multiple roles from you!”

A faint, pleasant tea-like aroma surrounded Lu Qingzhuo her natural scent, carrying a hint of bitterness that faded into subtle sweetness.

Xie Yun, a beta, couldn’t detect pheromones but admired the fragrance, assuming it was high-end perfume. She was about to ask for the brand.

“Green-tea or not,” Lu Qingzhuo’s gaze lingered on the username, “let’s not trash-talk behind people’s backs. You never know when—”

“Oh? Isn’t that Teacher Jiang?”

“Teacher Jiang’s here for the festival too!”

Jiang Yanwei glided past in a snow-white gown, her flawless skin glowing under the lights. Her wavy hair cascaded down, her eyeshadow shimmering at the corners—pure yet seductive.

From Lu Qingzhuo’s angle, it was clear Jiang wasn’t happy, despite the swarm of reporters trailing her.

“Look at that sour face,” Xie Yun scoffed. “Another year as a Golden Crane runner-up. It’s not like her acting’s anything special, just lucky scripts.”

She then showered Lu with praise: “Honestly, Lu Lu, all you need is the right opportunity. With your god-tier acting, you’d snatch Best Actress in seconds!”

“Forget being an award-winning actress, now nine out of ten scripts offered to me are for school bully roles, and the remaining one is for a murderer. Do you think I have a bright future?”

Xie Yun was momentarily at a loss for words. Her boss had taken the “unconventional path” designed by the company. While she had indeed gained fame, every public appearance now drew a flood of criticism in the media comments sections.

Still, infamy was still fame. Xie Yun firmly believed that Lu Qingzhuo would eventually achieve both wealth and recognition, lifting her along to success.

At the film festival, surrounded by A-list celebrities, Lu Qingzhuo was merely a supporting green leaf. The moment the camera panned over her, sharp-eyed anti-fans spotted her and launched a barrage of attacks.

“Now that’s popularity,” Lu Qingzhuo remarked, clicking her tongue as she pointed at her phone screen. “Xiao Xie, look—just showing my face lands me on the trending list, with so many passionate netizens voicing their ‘unique’ opinions. It’s hard to stay humble. You’d think I stole rice from their homes.”

“Exactly, we’re just that famous!”

Lu Qingzhuo picked up a green matcha cake and scooped a bite with her spoon, only to find it cloyingly sweet instead of the rich matcha flavor she expected.

She had arrived hungry, hoping to indulge, but after scanning the spread and finding nothing appetizing, she settled for a pack of spicy strips Xie Yun had brought along.

Ding-dong.

A WeChat notification chimed. The moment Lu Qingzhuo saw the sender’s name, her lazy, dazed expression sharpened instantly.

Assistant Han: The trending topic has been taken down. President Fu asks that you be more careful in the future.

Lu Qingzhuo exited and checked Weibo, sure enough, her name had vanished from the entertainment headlines. Shunxing Group’s PR was flawless, swift, and silent.

Thank you.

After some hesitation, she replied with a polite thanks.

Their exchanges were robotic at best. Flipping through their sparse chat history, Lu Qingzhuo found only variations of “Thank you,” “Got it,” “You’re welcome,” and “Mhm.”

Now, even Assistant Han’s perfunctory “You’re welcome” was absent.

How distant we’ve become.

Her gaze drifted toward the awards ceremony stage in the distance, her mind flashing back to the moment before her arrival here, when a massive, precariously hanging glass chandelier had come crashing down, shattering her life to pieces.

It had been her second win for Best Actress at an international film festival. Before turning thirty, she had risen to stardom, becoming a household name—only to die at the peak of her glory.

Goosebumps prickled her arms as she washed down the spicy strips with water, the sweetness lingering in her throat.

She was filled with resentment, but the truth remained: she was dead.

Perhaps fueled by sheer will, after her death, she had transmigrated into the script of an obscure film a small-time director had once pitched to her—reportedly adapted from a popular, melodramatic novel of the same name.

Lu Qingzhuo had dismissed it outright, rejecting the director after a brief discussion with her agent. Yet here she was, reborn as a cannon-fodder character in that very story.

If she had actually taken that drama back then, perhaps she wouldn’t have died so tragically.

Although she didn’t have any particularly advantageous cheat abilities after transmigrating into the book, she did possess a script that spanned the entire story. As long as she strictly followed it, playing the universally despised, controversy-attracting character—she could smoothly live to the age of eighty.

Unexpectedly, however, she caught the attention of Fu Yumian, the omega chairman of the Fu Group.

Lu Qingzhuo was an alpha, but her appearance wasn’t as aggressive as most alphas. She had a slender waist, long legs, naturally upturned lips, and mesmerizing peach-blossom eyes that brimmed with charm. When she smiled, those eyes seemed to hold a teasing hook.

This was Lu Qingzhuo’s current assessment of herself, as the original host’s looks were nearly identical to hers—there wasn’t a single difference.

Unfortunately, this alpha had been packaged by her company as the pure and innocent type all the way to her demise, stubbornly refusing to switch to a more glamorous, domineering style. Simple-minded and foolish as a pig—no wonder so many people hated her.

“Lu Lu, why do I feel like you’re a little upset? Your trending topics have all been taken down!”

Dressed in a pristine white haute couture evening gown, Lu Qingzhuo walked carefully while Xie Yun followed closely behind, terrified she might accidentally step on and ruin the dress, leaving them to foot the bill.

Accused of framing Jiang Yanwei, Lu Qingzhuo had no way to defend herself—after all, this was the innocent, delicate persona the company had carefully crafted for her. She had no chance to argue.

Finally making it through the awards ceremony, Lu Qingzhuo stretched and prepared to stand up when a rising star in a black swan gown accidentally stepped on her dress.

It happened in an instant. The sound of fabric tearing reached Lu Qingzhuo’s ears, and Xie Yun’s face twisted in horror, nearly letting out a scream.

Just what she had feared most.

Lu Qingzhuo looked down at the large tear in her long white gown, then raised her gaze to meet a pair of innocent eyes.

The owner of those dark pupils covered her mouth in exaggerated surprise. “Teacher Lu, I’m so sorry! I accidentally stepped on your dress.”

The speaker was none other than Ye Shutong, the breakout star of a historical romance drama this year. Overnight, her value had skyrocketed, and she had successfully climbed into the ranks of second-tier actors.

They were both artists under the same company, but the economic benefits Ye Shutong brought in were something Lu Qingzhuo couldn’t hope to match, even if there were two of her.

“Is that so?”

Lu Qingzhuo smiled faintly at her. Seeing that the other woman intended to walk away after her half-hearted apology as if nothing had happened, she stood up and directly blocked Ye Shutong’s path, her peach-blossom eyes glinting with amusement.

“This haute couture gown wasn’t cheap, you know.”

Ye Shutong hadn’t expected this alpha, who usually swallowed her anger even when publicly insulted, to openly demand repayment in front of so many people today. Had she lost her mind?

“What do you want, then?”

Lu Qingzhuo seemed genuinely stunned by Ye Shutong’s shamelessness. She pointed at herself incredulously and said, “Huh? You’re asking me? Obviously, you pay for it.”

Even Ye Shutong’s assistant was shocked. Given Lu Qingzhuo’s usual spineless nature, she should have just nodded meekly, said it was fine, and quietly covered the cost herself. But today—what was wrong with her? Was she out of her mind?

“You—”

Ye Shutong’s face flushed crimson with suppressed anger. She had expected to see Lu Qingzhuo looking aggrieved, muttering “it’s fine” before slinking away from the banquet.

“What about me? What did I do?” Lu Qingzhuo’s peach blossom eyes shimmered with what seemed like misty tears as she gazed pitifully at Ye Shutong, who stood half a head shorter. “Professor Ye, this gown cost eighty-eight thousand. Surely you can afford to compensate me?”

“Of course I can afford—”

Before Ye Shutong could finish, Lu Qingzhuo whipped out her phone, opened the Alipay payment QR code, and offered a bashful smile. “That’s a relief. I thought my senior might be financially embarrassed. Even sisters must settle accounts clearly, so I’ll give you a 2% discount.”

“Let’s round it down to eighty-seven thousand.”

Ye Shutong: “…”

A stunned silence fell over the onlookers who had gathered to watch the spectacle, all shocked by Lu Qingzhuo’s audacious move.

Unfazed, Lu Qingzhuo continued, “No money, Professor Ye? Or did you forget your phone? No worries! I happen to have a POS terminal…”

As she reached for Xie Yun’s backpack, a pale, slender hand intercepted hers.

Ye Shutong’s molars ground together, yet she managed a strained smile. “You certainly come prepared.”

Lu Qingzhuo chuckled. “When you’re out in the world, you need proper tools. If someone gets unreasonable, this POS machine doubles as a brick.”

Beep.

“Alipay payment received: eighty-eight thousand yuan!”

Clenching her jaw, Ye Shutong flashed a flawless smile, proof of why she excelled in historical romance dramas, with her impeccable emotional control.

“Wow, Professor Ye paid in full!” Lu Qingzhuo marveled.

Ye Shutong shot her a venomous glare, tossed her phone to an assistant, and muttered under her breath before storming off: “Fucking green tea b1tch…”

Lu Qingzhuo watched her furious retreat, smoothing her long black hair with an innocent expression. “She’s right my pheromones do smell like green tea.”

In the shadows, cameras meticulously captured their exchange. By the time the scandal trended, Lu Qingzhuo was still sampling various mini cakes with dogged determination.

Meanwhile, in a downtown skyscraper, a frosty omega in a tailored black suit sat rigidly before her computer. The golden frames of her glasses glinted as sharp phoenix eyes scrutinized the screen.

#LuQingzhuoBulliesYeShutongAtAwards

#YeShutongInTears

“Assistant Han,” her voice cut like glacial winds, “handle the PR. Get those hashtags down.”

“Right away, Director Fu.”

She reached for her phone to mobilize damage control, then froze mid-motion.

“Director Fu, you should see this.”

Fu Yumian took Han Tian’s phone. Reading the top comment’s reply, her lips thinned. “Has she lost her mind?”

[Bottom-feeding fish: “This Lu Qingzhuo’s a professional clout-chaser. Jingdezhen should hang a ‘No Lu Qingzhuos Allowed’ sign lol [dog emoji][dog emoji]”]

The comment had 30K likes. But the three-word response from Lu Qingzhuo’s verified account below had skyrocketed to 100K.

Lu Qingzhuo zzz: [“Yours?”]

“Madam does seem to have a touch of obsession about her,” Han Tian ventured cautiously, barely daring to breathe. “President Fu, should we continue with the public relations efforts?”

“No need. Since she enjoys playing games, let her continue.”

Fu Yumian’s gaze lingered on the alpha in the video, dressed in a snow-white gown beautiful, yet foolish.

How could someone like that possibly be worthy of being his wife.

“Keep an eye on things. Don’t let her ruin herself beyond recovery.”

Rubbing his throbbing temples, Fu Yumian felt for the first time in his smooth-sailing life that he’d made a wrong decision.