After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

At that moment, clouds on the horizon drifted over with the wind and then floated away.

The sun before the window shone brightly one second and dimmed the next as clouds covered it, much like this world that forever changed unpredictably.

The cause of the matter was simple: Lu Zhao posted a set of photos at noon for promotion, the white camellias that Chenchen had taken of her in the backyard that day.

Originally, it was just a routine operation to promote after half a month of inactivity, but the comment section lacked the usual enthusiastic messages from fans and instead overflowed with dissatisfaction.

[Sister, you must know what your teammate has been busy with this month, don’t you? Aren’t you anxious at all?]

[Why haven’t you released a single yet? Your teammate has an album, but you don’t even have one song. Is this your ambition?]

[Actually, Alphas can now find an Omega to support them. Sister, are you posting these photos to prepare for that too? [Smile]]

[I still remember when Sister stood on stage and said her dream was to share her singing with more people. Did Sister forget, or was it just our wishful thinking, something you casually said?]

[Speechless, waiting so long just for a few photos??]

[Why does someone who wants to be a singer post nine edited photos? You don’t expect us to praise how pretty you are, do you?]

…

The comments in the section ranged from mild to aggressive, each one expressing dissatisfaction with Lu Zhao’s month-long absence from work announcements.

Sheng Jingyu quickly skimmed through these comments, roughly understanding the source of the fans’ discontent. However, these voices piled together contained both truth and falsehood, with some people fishing in troubled waters, seemingly setting a rhythm.

Sheng Jingyu slightly furrowed her brows, her silver-gray eyes showing no discernible emotion.

She silently exited the comment section and then noticed this post came from a trending topic that Cheng Xin had clicked into.

The title was simple yet glaring, bluntly stating two words: #PanderingToFans#.

The topic featured Lu Zhao’s recently posted photos, not particularly high in popularity but still ranking high in trends.

It wasn’t just haters fishing in the comment section; the fish had replaced most of the pearls in the public square.

Well-maintained accounts could change their profile picture and become “true fans,” waving the banner of “for Sister’s good,” inciting casual fans to push Lu Zhao’s official fan club accounts far back.

The trending topic’s square was a mess, with some fans defiantly posting photos to promote, some lamenting in pain but getting Lu Zhao’s breakout stage name wrong, some passersby clearly annoyed yet stepping into the trend to throw shade, and others posting multiple question marks to mock how an eighteenth-tier like Lu Zhao could pander to fans.

Yes, she was eighteenth-tier, and her fan club’s organizational strength was weak.

So why was she still targeted like this?

Or had she always been targeted, which made her fade into obscurity?

Sheng Jingyu’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she thought of something.

But before she could piece together the clues she had gotten from Chenchen, Cheng Xin’s voice came from beside her: “Ah Yu? Ah Yu? Ah Yu?”

Cheng Xin called three times, and Sheng Jingyu only raised her gaze on the last one.

She zoned out discreetly, her returning gaze as calm as ever: “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve been staring for a long time,” Cheng Xin said cautiously, her eyes fixed on Sheng Jingyu. “Are you worried about her?”

“No, I just find it suspicious,” Sheng Jingyu calmly denied, handing the phone back to Cheng Xin.

“What’s suspicious about it? Even if it is, she has her management company and agent to handle it. Don’t worry about it,” Cheng Xin said earnestly, intentionally persuading Sheng Jingyu not to bother with Lu Zhao. “With your condition, you need to rest well when you get back and not tire yourself out, got it?”

Sheng Jingyu had heard such words many times and nodded as she always did: “Hmm.”

But this time, she stood up from the chair, not lingering to chat with Cheng Xin: “If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave.”

Cheng Xin couldn’t keep her, only reminding: “Alright, remember to take your medicine on time.”

Sheng Jingyu nodded lightly, picking up her handbag from the side.

Her long hair swept across the light from the window, casting a faint golden glow on her profile.

Her slender brows gave a faint glance, as if untouched by worldly matters, never engaging in them.

“Ah Yu.”

As Sheng Jingyu was about to push the door to leave, Cheng Xin suddenly called her.

She withdrew her hand from the doorknob, turning to ask: “Something up?”

“During the heat period, Omegas are sensitive to Alphas. You’d better avoid frequent contact with Alphas these days,” Cheng Xin reminded a second time.

“Alright,” Sheng Jingyu nodded again.

The corners of her eyes had a slight upward curve, giving her a pair of eyes that seemed to care about nothing.

Her actions were light, distant, and unapproachable.

But would she really stay like that forever?

The door opened, and Cheng Xin watched Sheng Jingyu’s departing figure with a complicated gaze.

She once thought Sheng Jingyu would never smell any Alpha’s pheromones and secretly cherished this as a blessing.

.

A black Bentley drove down the road, the setting sun hanging halfway up the mountain as it did yesterday.

The window reflected a faint orange-red from the sunset, and Sheng Jingyu looked outside, the fleeting scenery evoking a unique mood—if one’s attention was on it.

Sheng Jingyu zoned out.

Her eyes looked out the window, but her gaze didn’t settle on any point, a touch of orange dotting her silver-gray pupils, fleeting and elusive.

“Buzz buzz buzz…”

Her phone in the handbag rang at that moment, abruptly breaking the silence in the car.

It was an unfamiliar call.

The driver glanced through the rearview mirror, involuntarily tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

Sheng Jingyu couldn’t speak, and a phone call was an invisible reminder of her stolen voice.

She raised her hand to hang up, but her fingers, as if sensing something, mistakenly pressed the answer key.

Sheng Jingyu was silent, and the caller, as if knowing she couldn’t speak, immediately said: “Miss Sheng, it’s me, Chenchen.”

Chenchen’s voice sounded anxious, her self-introduction unusually fast.

Sheng Jingyu’s expression paused at the name.

“I know you can’t speak, so you don’t need to reply. I just have a favor to ask, but I didn’t have your contact, so I got your number from the lease contract. I sent you a text earlier, but you didn’t reply, so I had no choice but to call.”

Chenchen first explained why she made the call, each sentence carrying an apology.

Sheng Jingyu wasn’t moved by this, nor did she show anger, listening calmly to Chenchen’s words.

“It’s like this: something bad happened to Ah Zhao, quite suddenly,” Chenchen said, overwhelmed, watching the elevator floor numbers rise, hoping time would move faster. “I’m helping her deal with the management company, trying to control the situation, and can’t get back right now. Can you check on Ah Zhao for me?”

“I called her a few times, and she didn’t pick up. I’m a bit worried. If you agree to help, can you tap the phone twice? If not, just once.”

The sunset’s afterglow carried a coolness unrelated to summer, like Sheng Jingyu’s pupils.

She disliked getting involved in others’ affairs, and Cheng Xin had also told her to keep her distance.

“Tap.”

A single light tap came through Chenchen’s ear.

Like a weightless drop, her heart sank heavily.

Chenchen knew Sheng Jingyu seemed distant, but she still wanted to take a chance.

What if Miss Sheng wasn’t as cold as she appeared?

But she lost the bet.

Ah Zhao was right—they both had bad luck and weren’t suited to be gamblers.

Despite the rejection, Chenchen maintained basic courtesy.

But just as she was about to thank Sheng Jingyu for taking the call, a delayed second tap came through.

Clear.

Crisp.

“…Tap.”

The elevator doors opened slowly, light falling perfectly inside.

Chenchen’s eyes lit up, joyful and grateful: “Thank you, Miss Sheng! I’m entrusting Ah Zhao to you!”

Trees lush with greenery flashed by outside the window, and Sheng Jingyu hung up, looking at the somewhat empty road.

As the driver slowed to change lanes as usual, a mechanical female voice came from behind: “Faster.”

It was Sheng Jingyu’s command.

Not daring to delay, the driver pressed the accelerator.

A twenty-minute drive took only ten minutes this time.

Familiar greenery parted bit by bit, and the car stopped in front of the mansion.

The surroundings were quiet, the sound of the closing door especially noticeable.

Sheng Jingyu didn’t know why she changed her mind to run this errand for Chenchen.

But since the driver was taking her home, “a small effort” wasn’t an unreasonable explanation.

The breeze from her steps lifted her skirt, and the front door opened in response.

Sheng Jingyu gave herself a reasonable excuse, unaware her steps were faster than usual.

As usual, she went upstairs to knock on Lu Zhao’s bedroom door.

She was polite, waiting a few seconds with no response before pushing the door to see if Lu Zhao was sulking inside.

But the room was empty.

The sunset burned before the window as it had last night, the overlapping scene rewinding memories.

Lychees bobbed in the sea breeze at the ocean’s center, plump and crystalline.

Pausing, Sheng Jingyu stepped back from the doorway.

What was she thinking?

She should focus on finding her now.

Sheng Jingyu took a light breath, turning toward the study.

She had her own logic for finding someone, methodically searching along her planned route, but the study was empty, and so was the bathroom…

Lu Zhao was truly as hard to find as Chenchen said.

In the dim twilight, a faint crease formed on Sheng Jingyu’s smooth forehead.

She didn’t know if she regretted agreeing to Chenchen’s request, but something weighed on her heart, tugging, forcing her to notice, to care.

Finally, Sheng Jingyu stood before the room Lu Zhao said her mother and nanny once lived in.

She knew her next action might be intrusive, but she had to push open that door…

“Until you want to be with me——”

As Sheng Jingyu pushed the door, she faintly heard music from not far away.

The sound rose high then fell suddenly, coming from near the mansion.

Her furrowed brows relaxed for a moment.

Following the music, she walked to a side building of the mansion, a closed door looming before her, as if marked “No Entry.”

But this wasn’t the first door Sheng Jingyu had pushed open.

She didn’t care what scene lay beyond; she needed to find that person.

The door opened slowly with a creak, the muffled music becoming clear.

Sheng Jingyu stood at the doorway, facing a room with mirrors on three walls.

The music blared deafeningly, and Lu Zhao stood in the center.

She was fully immersed, her hair sweeping across her face, every movement filled with strength.

For dancing’s sake, Lu Zhao dressed simply.

Low-waisted pants paired with a small T-shirt, like the day Sheng Jingyu saw her at the bar, boldly showing her waist.

Her fair skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat, rising and falling, like a boneless snake, coiling onto Sheng Jingyu’s gaze.