After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The skirt hem hanging by the corridor’s side fluttered in the wind for a moment, the swaying white fabric spreading out in the rich darkness of the night.

Sheng Jingyu sat on one side, her long eyes fixed on Lu Zhao, the strands of hair falling by her face riding the whistling wind, revealing a touch of unhurried laziness amid the disorder, along with a meaningful nuance.

Opening the skylight meant something that married people understood all too well.

Perhaps this was the meaning carried by language and words—seemingly unrelated things somehow collided together just like that.

Lu Zhao’s pupils froze for a moment, and as her eyes met Sheng Jingyu’s, they sparked a vast and obscure ambiguity.

The memory from noon, both timely and untimely, drilled into Lu Zhao’s mind, fragmented images showing a pair of eyes gradually turning crimson, stirred by pheromones.

The night breeze suddenly passed through Lu Zhao’s loosely held palm by her side, cool yet carrying the闷热 accumulated from summer, as if echoing the sensation when she had placed her hand on Sheng Jingyu’s waist.

The more one tried to forget something, the harder it was to forget.

Lu Zhao hurriedly waved away the incorrect memories in her mind, her gaze flickering: “So that’s what it meant.”

The wind circled the corridor and blew past again, and Sheng Jingyu noticed Lu Zhao’s ear tips turning red.

She squinted her eyes slightly, admitting that the explanation she had just added was deliberate, a retaliation for being thrown off by Lu Zhao’s sudden topic shift earlier.

It was strange, though—this kind of scheming, Sheng Jingyu seemed to reveal only a glimpse of it in front of Lu Zhao, the deliberate ambiguity almost like something emerging from her subconscious.

But what subconscious could she have toward this person?

The rain outside grew heavier, the leaves battered into disarray, completely losing the leisurely charm from earlier.

Lu Zhao propped herself up with her arms and stood, saying to Sheng Jingyu: “It’s getting late, Teacher. You shouldn’t stay here in the cool breeze. Go back to your room and rest.”

“Hmm,” Sheng Jingyu nodded, slowly retracting her legs hanging over the corridor. “Class starts at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. Don’t stay up late—it’s bad for your throat.”

“Okay,” Lu Zhao replied earnestly, her attitude serious. She hadn’t looked forward to tomorrow like this in a long time.

Perhaps life needed a bit of ceremony. Even though she had already seen her teacher at breakfast, Lu Zhao still went back to her room to change into proper clothes to meet her teacher.

When Lu Zhao proposed this idea, Sheng Jingyu nodded in agreement.

As Lu Zhao walked down, her view gradually widened, and Sheng Jingyu sat at the piano bench, her head lowered.

Sunlight streamed through the glass window onto her, her tied-up long hair brushing over her neck and shoulders, straight yet relaxed, looking like a swan, exuding elegance and nobility from her very core.

She truly seemed like a vocal teacher, quietly waiting for her student’s arrival.

Lu Zhao paused for a moment, then walked over without stopping: “Teacher, I’m here.”

Sheng Jingyu glanced at the watch on her wrist upon hearing this—eight twenty-nine, not late.

A decent start, at least.

Sheng Jingyu nodded and got straight to the point: “Have you chosen the song you want to sing?”

Lu Zhao didn’t hesitate: “I want to sing Jingyun’s Nanzhou.”

Hearing the song’s name, a slight ripple passed through Sheng Jingyu’s eyes.

It aligned with what she had thought.

Sheng Jingyu approved of Lu Zhao’s choice, gesturing: “This song is indeed quite suitable for your voice.”

She had analyzed Lu Zhao’s voice the day before and now explained to her: “But the climax part rises a key without transition. Your vocal condition can absolutely handle it, but you need serious training.”

Lu Zhao nodded earnestly.

This was a rare opportunity she had fought for, and she wouldn’t slack off.

“Let’s give it a try first,” Sheng Jingyu said, lifting her hand to the piano keys.

The prelude flowed like water, and Lu Zhao took a light breath, opening her voice using the method Sheng Jingyu had taught her: “The wind blows into my room, bringing a letter from who knows where…”

Singers had their own spirit, and Sheng Jingyu was proud. She disliked people ruining her work and never listened to covers.

Yet at this moment, she played the piano to accompany Lu Zhao singing her song, feeling she hadn’t misjudged her.

Lu Zhao had a spark, and with just a little guidance from Sheng Jingyu, she unlocked a series of insights.

The ethereal melody gained a unique Alpha feeling in Lu Zhao’s voice, blending nostalgia and sadness with resilience.

Sheng Jingyu liked Lu Zhao’s rendition.

But this beautiful ethereality didn’t last long. As Lu Zhao sang to the climax with Sheng Jingyu’s accompaniment, her voice seemed to step into mud.

“With you, in this life, it’s hard to meet—”

Barely satisfactory.

Sheng Jingyu slightly furrowed her brow, forming an assessment in her mind.

She didn’t let Lu Zhao continue, stopping her: “Everything before the climax was pretty good, but when you switch to falsetto at the high notes, the tone starts to sound muffled, not bright.”

“Yeah,” Lu Zhao admitted, facing her issue directly. “The method you taught me before isn’t quite enough for the high notes. I still can’t muster the strength.”

“That’s just a basic skill for correct pronunciation,” Sheng Jingyu said calmly. “It’s not wrong to switch to falsetto for those high notes. Even Jingyun didn’t rely entirely on her true voice when singing it.”

Sheng Jingyu stood up from the piano bench, facing Lu Zhao: “You’re not finding the right position. I’ll help you find the feeling. Try to follow me and locate the voicing position.”

Light and shadow swayed in Lu Zhao’s vision as Sheng Jingyu stood in front of her.

Unlike the scorching summer heat through the glass, Sheng Jingyu’s fingers were cool, gently resting on Lu Zhao’s throat, carrying a faint fragrance into her breath.

It was a light scent, clean with a subtle hint of grape sweetness and the bitterness of distilled wormwood.

Lu Zhao’s breathing paused and paused again, unsure how to react.

She knew Sheng Jingyu was guiding her this closely because she couldn’t speak, and this wasn’t the first time she’d stood so close to an Omega, but her heart still raced uncontrollably.

No, no.

You can’t focus on this. You have to practice your vocals properly and not let your teacher down!

Lu Zhao mentally wound herself up, using her respect for her teacher to suppress the primal Alpha urge toward an Omega.

She discreetly moistened her dry lips and tried to open her voice: “With you…”

The initial exploration was inevitably uncertain, and Lu Zhao was no exception.

But Sheng Jingyu’s fingers moved slowly, cool and soft, almost fleeting, as if telling Lu Zhao she wasn’t searching alone.

Thump, thump…

Her throat vibrated, and the trace of the fingers on it became more pronounced.

Lu Zhao felt her heart beating, her falsetto pressing in her throat, as if entering a narrow passage.

Then suddenly, Lu Zhao felt Sheng Jingyu seemed to touch her voice, the vibration of her throat blending with the sensation of the touch, and she sang out: “With you, in this life, it’s hard to meet—”

Lu Zhao’s surprised pupils met Sheng Jingyu’s slight smile.

Sheng Jingyu felt a burn from that expression, unsure what was off. No Alpha sea breeze blew, yet her heart skipped a beat.

Pausing slightly, Sheng Jingyu calmly and restrainedly acknowledged Lu Zhao: “You did it.”

“Hmm!”

Lu Zhao’s smile shone brightly in the sunlight.

It was a deeply satisfying feeling. After so long, an unprecedented sense of achievement let Lu Zhao see real hope.

And all of this was brought by Sheng Jingyu.

With this breakthrough, Lu Zhao followed Sheng Jingyu’s guidance to practice finding the falsetto position a few more times.

Though she hadn’t fully mastered the technique, for someone just starting that day, she was already impressive.

Lu Zhao was willing to work hard and push herself, practicing until the sun blazed high over the window frame, the noon heat intense, yet she didn’t want to stop.

It was Sheng Jingyu, out of concern for her voice, who called a halt, and only then did Lu Zhao reluctantly rest.

She was a good talent.

Sheng Jingyu calmly watched Lu Zhao’s departing figure, inexplicably keeping her gaze until Lu Zhao turned the corner.

The excessive summer heat always made people uncomfortable, especially by the window. Sheng Jingyu picked up her phone, deciding to take a shower before Chenchen brought lunch for her and Lu Zhao.

Even Sheng Jingyu didn’t notice that her once-solitary life now included two more people.

Just as she entered her room, Sheng Jingyu’s phone lit up in her pocket.

The message was from her manager, Chen Annie: [Ah Yu, your little friend’s manager came to me today. He asked if you were the vocal teacher she hired.]

[From his attitude, it seems he doesn’t care much about your little friend. As her manager, how does he not even know she hired you as her teacher and has to come to me to ask?]

Sheng Jingyu looked at the two consecutive messages, her eyes darkening slightly: [How did he find you?]

Chen Annie: [Do you remember the songs you wrote for Ah Yin, signed as Whale? I found out he got your name from the real estate agent, then traced it up to Whale. He thought you were some composition teacher and didn’t know how to contact you, so he ended up reaching me.]

Though both surnamed Chen, Chen Ruozhi clearly wasn’t on the same level as Chen Annie.

He thought he was discreet in his inquiries, but the other side had already seen through him and even traced his entire path.

Sheng Jingyu didn’t reply for a while, and Chen Annie, knowing Sheng Jingyu’s sensitivity to such matters, continued: [Don’t worry, I hid the contract details carefully. He can’t find out you’re Jingyun.]

[From his visit today, it seems he wants me to connect you with their company for a collaboration. He probably wants to hire you as their company’s instructor. Looks like our Teacher Sheng is quite popular—not just me who’s got my eye on you.]

The teasing words didn’t lighten the mood. Sheng Jingyu looked at the explanation, her lowered eyes squinting slightly.

Got their eye on her.

Was it because of her skills that they had their eye on her, or because of the person who chose her?

Sunlight streamed through the glass window, the scorching heat reflecting a cold, expressionless face.

Sheng Jingyu’s face was icy as she typed to the other side: [Check him out for me.]

The chat window was filled with Chen Annie’s long, flowing texts, while Sheng Jingyu’s five words stood out starkly.

Yet they carried weight.

Having been by Sheng Jingyu’s side for years, watching her rise to become the Idol, Chen Annie could sense her mood from just a few words.

The relaxed atmosphere in the office faded, and the person in the chair frowned.

Chen Annie didn’t understand why Sheng Jingyu, who usually brushed off such misunderstandings, was so displeased this time.

Could it be for her little friend?

No way—Sheng Jingyu never cared about others’ affairs, not even Zhou Huanyin’s.

Despite her confusion, Chen Annie’s tone shifted from teasing to serious: [Got it, don’t worry.]

The phone went quiet, the screen still lit.

Sheng Jingyu silently looked at Chen Annie’s earlier words, seemingly seeing the difficult path Lu Zhao had walked.

She still remembered the day they moved into this house, when Chenchen sighed in front of her about Lu Zhao’s bad fate.

Now, it seemed that sigh wasn’t just idle frustration.

“Buzz.”

A sudden vibration broke the silence of the room, jarringly abrupt.

Sheng Jingyu’s phone, which had just dimmed, lit up again, still the same chat app.

But this time, it wasn’t Chen Annie’s reply but a new friend request.

[Hello, Teacher Sheng. I’m Si Liaoliao from Received Seven.]