After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The wind swept through the lush treetops, and the lingering heat still felt stifling.

The early summer night was not quiet; cicadas hid in the green leaves, chirping tirelessly. The curtain wall reflected neon lights, rippling like waves in the dark night, with the glow of debauchery written in the vibrant lights.

The bar’s door was pushed open from outside, and the song from within drifted out.

It was a very clean voice, completely different from the decadence under the night sky, softly chanting, making people unable to resist wanting to follow it into the bar to investigate.

The dim light in the quiet bar was faint; it was past midnight, yet the people inside showed no intention of leaving.

The lyrical and gentle song enveloped the entire place, but looking toward the stage, one realized no one was singing. The voice came from the screen above.

It was a replay of a concert, with countless indigo light spots flickering and swaying, clustering around the person on the main stage.

Unlike other singers, this person wore a black veiled hat, with long, opaque white gauze covering her entirely, revealing only the hem of a pleated, crimson Tang-style skirt below.

One could hear the voice but not see the person.

In the entire singing world, only one person had such boldness.

—Jing Yuan, who had won the Golden Record for Best Female Singer for four consecutive years.

Jing Yuan debuted thirteen years ago and never showed her face, but with one album a year and one hit song per album, people called her the Heaven-Sent Idol, and everyone admired her.

The clear voice pierced through the eardrums, reaching its climax, and Jing Yuan slightly raised her head.

The stage light suddenly lit up behind her, roughly outlining a blurred profile like a sunset.

The sound of hairpins clinking crisply hit the microphone, her raised chin and high nose bridge as gentle yet resilient as her voice.

She seemed like both an Omega and an Alpha.

“Only hoping someday fate allows us to walk together,” Lu Zhao slurred with the scent of alcohol, singing along with Jing Yuan’s line, staring at that moment repeatedly, her voice full of sorrow.

Today’s bar event was a Jing Yuan memorial special.

Three days ago, on Jing Yuan’s twenty-ninth birthday, she announced her retirement on Weibo.

Just as no one knew who backed Jing Yuan to keep her face hidden from paparazzi and entertainment gossip for thirteen years, no one knew why Jing Yuan chose to retire at her peak.

She was as clean as a blank sheet of paper, known only by her voice.

So, once she left, no one could find any trace of her.

“It’s impossible now,” Lu Zhao said, looking at the ethereal figure on the screen, feeling unprecedentedly dejected.

As a ten-year fan, since entering the entertainment industry, Lu Zhao dreamed of one day sharing the stage with Jing Yuan.

But after four years of debut, let alone Jing Yuan, she hadn’t even touched the edge of Jing Yuan’s veiled hat.

Beside her, another drunk Jing Yuan fan, probably the nth one that night, was pulled up by a friend who rushed over: “Enough, it’s just retirement, not like you can’t listen to her songs anymore. How many drinks have you had? Let’s go.”

“No!” The girl stubbornly shook off her friend’s hand. “My fairy on earth, sob sob sob, Jing Yuan, my wife…”

The girl’s friend, annoyed, said, “How is she your wife? You don’t even know if she’s an Alpha or an Omega. It’s all marketing hype, don’t be so naive!”

“You, you’re talking nonsense!” The girl protested, slurring her words. “Jing Yuan is a fairy! Even if she’s a Beta, she’s my untarnished fairy wife!!”

The friend, seemingly long frustrated, lowered her voice and retorted, “What kind of fairy hides for over a decade without showing her face? How many people bought the most expensive front-row tickets just to catch a glimpse of her at a concert?”

“This isn’t your fairy wife. She’s probably just fishing for fame, with only talent… ah!”

The friend listed the industry’s negative comments about Jing Yuan over the years, but before finishing, her words turned into a wail, stuck in her throat.

Her wrist, resting on the bar counter, hurt terribly, as if something gripped it, and she couldn’t pull it free.

The light slowly shifted with Jing Yuan’s song, and a pressure from a kindred presence poured down from above, like a wave crashing fiercely, rushing into her nostrils, making her frown tightly and forcing her to look up.

The incandescent light outlined Lu Zhao’s sharp profile, her dark eyes coldly staring at the person before her: “Friend, this is Jing Yuan’s memorial event. Jing Yuan can wear whatever she wants to sing. We’re here to listen, not to look. You’d better not make yourself disliked here.”

Lu Zhao’s voice was low, her warning words polite.

Without the hand gripping the other’s wrist, she would seem like an elegant and measured Alpha.

But this was already her limit of self-control.

Lu Zhao had been drinking since the event started, and the alcohol intake had long exceeded her limit, making her forget her idol identity, which required discretion.

She had endured and endured, but couldn’t tolerate someone slandering her Jing Yuan.

That was the idol she had loved for over a decade.

The person she wanted to become, revered as a god.

A wave mixed with the scent of alcohol suddenly surged, crashing down overwhelmingly in the dim space.

The friend was pressed down, unable to lift her head, unable to tell whether her wrist hurt more or her throbbing temple.

She understood that even though this Alpha was drunk, she wasn’t someone a low-level Alpha like her could challenge. Her attitude shifted quickly: “I understand, I’m sorry for saying those things. It won’t happen again.”

Lu Zhao looked at the Alpha who quickly backed down, disdainfully letting her go, then drunkenly pressed the loosened inhibitor patch roughly back onto her neck.

The unpleasantness made Lu Zhao unwilling to stay at the unlucky bar counter, and she looked around for a new spot.

The rotating light ball shifted the light, and as Jing Yuan’s voice faded, the bar’s dim light brightened slightly.

Under the light, a woman sat alone in a corner booth, her dark hair draped over her shoulders, the satin dress faintly reflecting the surrounding light, outlining a languid, refined curve along her casually leaning figure.

Lu Zhao’s gaze paused briefly, finding the woman unique.

Alcohol wove a drunken splendor, and Alphas were scent-driven, but Lu Zhao couldn’t detect a trace of that on this woman. Instead, a faint, crisp fragrance drifted toward her, so clean it was impossible not to like.

This was Lu Zhao’s first encounter with Sheng Jingyu.

Later, she told Sheng Jingyu about this moment, and Sheng Jingyu smiled, pulled her by the waist, and poured her a mouthful of green grape absinthe.

The light ball rotated again, and when the light swept over the booth, Lu Zhao had already walked to Sheng Jingyu’s table.

Her Alpha instincts didn’t pick up Sheng Jingyu’s nature, so she assumed Sheng Jingyu was a Beta and chose this new spot: “Miss, may I share your table?”

Sheng Jingyu looked up, the rotating light perfectly falling on her eyelashes, casting a layer of golden glow.

It should have been a dazzling sight, but the eyes behind were filled with cold darkness, untouched by the light, pristine in the dim setting.

The alcohol’s effect grew stronger, numbing most of Lu Zhao’s rationality.

She stared at Sheng Jingyu, her expression openly stunned, thinking to herself: This was the most beautiful Beta she had ever seen.

From years of filming, recording, and interacting with fans, Lu Zhao knew that gazes, like lenses, were mutual.

So while she stared at Sheng Jingyu, Sheng Jingyu was also observing her.

The woman wore a small-sized top but loose cargo pants, boldly showing off a lot of skin.

She had the capital for such boldness; her waist was strikingly slim, the light on her skin giving it a cool, pale sheen, somewhat tantalizing.

Sheng Jingyu remembered Lu Zhao; earlier, when someone at the bar slandered Jing Yuan, she was the one who intervened.

That invisible pressure aimed at one person marked her as a high-level Alpha.

Her gaze paused, but Sheng Jingyu didn’t speak, only hooked her finger to pull her glass closer.

She neither refused nor left, tacitly allowing Lu Zhao to share the table.

Seeing Sheng Jingyu’s action, Lu Zhao understood and flashed her a standard idol smile.

Lu Zhao wasn’t usually one to chat with strangers, but tonight she was too drunk and, as a shameless appearance enthusiast, couldn’t help but strike up a conversation with Sheng Jingyu: “Do you also like Jing Yuan?”

The dim bar lit up with flashing lights, and the concert’s cheers roared.

But the booth where Lu Zhao sat was quiet.

Sheng Jingyu didn’t speak, and Lu Zhao’s attempt fell flat.

Failing at her first attempt to start a conversation, Lu Zhao felt defeated.

But so what? She had faced more awkward silences at events and still had to maintain an idol’s professionalism, smiling at the audience.

Lu Zhao held her glass and smiled, smoothly covering her tracks: “Seems like I asked a redundant question. Why would someone who doesn’t like Jing Yuan come here?”

On the big screen, the wind perfectly lifted the white gauze on Jing Yuan’s veiled hat, light and shadow filtering through the layered fabric, outlining her blurred figure, like a painting from a distant time, drawing people closer.

Lu Zhao’s expression fell, and she spoke to herself: “I was really looking forward to what plans she’d share for the next year at her birthday event a few days ago, but she just canceled her own plans.”

“My favorite song of hers is ‘Tomorrow,’ but now there’s no tomorrow for me and her.”

Repressed sadness always found release through alcohol. Lu Zhao, without any care for her image, slumped onto the table, drunkenly muttering: “Jing Yuan… why retire so suddenly… Jing Yuan, it’s too soon… why couldn’t you wait for me… I’m really trying so hard to get close to you…”

Hearing Lu Zhao’s words, Sheng Jingyu’s gaze subtly paused.

She inexplicably sensed the other’s emotions and looked up at her.

Alcohol and light cast an obvious flush on Lu Zhao’s face, making her furrowed brows look especially pitiful.

She rubbed her hair in frustration, her reddish-brown strands sticking to the glass, wet with liquor, looking as disheveled as an abandoned Alpha puppy.

“Ugh, Jing Yuan… do you know how much I like you…”

The liquor traced ripples along the glass, as if something echoed within.

Sheng Jingyu looked at the thoroughly drunk Alpha miss across from her with calm yet complex eyes, hesitated, then lifted her wrist, wanting to help fish out the messy hair that fell into the glass.

But as her slender fingers touched the hair in the glass, they were suddenly gripped.

Lu Zhao, with bleary drunk eyes, showed Alpha vigilance in her pupils.

It was purely instinctive, her tone fierce: “What are you doing?!”

Sheng Jingyu’s restrained arm trembled slightly, the liquor stains on her lips scattering faint glimmers.

But the next second, she pressed her lips together, her eyes overly calm as she looked at Lu Zhao, offering no explanation or words.

It was this calmness that suddenly touched the scene Lu Zhao least wanted to recall.

Staring at the silent Sheng Jingyu, Lu Zhao could no longer maintain her surface calm and composure, or perhaps she no longer wanted to.

“Why, why don’t you speak? Why don’t you respond to me? Am I that unlikable to you all?”

Lu Zhao’s eyes reddened as she asked, her grip on Sheng Jingyu’s hand tightening.

Sheng Jingyu, unprepared, was pulled up, her whole body drawn forward.

Jing Yuan’s gentle song echoed in the dim bar, the halted light casting their shadows onto the same plane.

No one noticed the white patch on the finger that had just touched the hair, emitting a strange scent in the alcohol.

The shifting light passed frame by frame over Sheng Jingyu’s eyes, the spilled glass soaking her skirt’s hem.

The alcohol carried a wave crashing forward, violent and obsessive, overwhelming the person submerged in it, with a hint of lychee liquor sweetness at the end, like an Alpha’s gentle compensation to an Omega.

The complex, ambiguous fragrance entwined indescribably, flooding into Sheng Jingyu’s nostrils.

Her eyes, calm all night, finally stirred, unable to hide their widening, thinly veiled with disbelief.

She sensed it.

Lu Zhao’s unmasked Alpha pheromone scent.