After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 29

Chapter 29

The evening breeze blew toward Lu Zhao, transforming the alcohol on her lips into the taste of wormwood.

Lu Zhao propped her head slightly, mildly intoxicated, watching Sheng Jingyu’s eyes sway gently.

Some things she wouldn’t easily share with others.

A momentary connection didn’t guarantee future harmony; Lu Zhao had seen too many cases of late-found friendships turning into estranged paths.

But the person sitting across from her now was Sheng Jingyu.

She couldn’t quite explain it, but in the quiet night, a green sprout broke through the soil.

Lu Zhao secretly hid her selfish thoughts.

She thought, even if she inevitably parted ways with Sheng Jingyu like she did with others, she wanted to leave a mark on her heart.

Lu Zhao supported her chin, revealing a mocking smile about what she was about to say: “Teacher, you definitely can’t guess, Si Liaoliao and I were good friends in high school.”

Recalling the past, Lu Zhao squinted slightly in the night breeze: “When we started high school, Si Liaoliao sat in front of me, and I had a desk mate named Zhou Ran. The three of us shared similar interests and quickly became friends.”

“At that time, the three of us even planned to form a band. Although I liked singing, Si Liaoliao only knew how to sing, so I settled for playing the bass, Zhou Ran played the guitar, and Si Liaoliao was the lead singer.”

“We wrote songs and almost performed at the school’s summer evening event during our first year.”

The story, divided into three parts, was brief, filled with the vibrancy of teenage years.

But just as it was about to reach a brilliant climax, Lu Zhao’s tone shifted sharply: “But right before the performance, my grandma passed away.”

A sigh escaped from Lu Zhao’s lips. She turned her head toward Sheng Jingyu beside her and asked: “Teacher, do you know why Si Liaoliao has it out for me?”

Given the context, most people’s first instinct would be that Lu Zhao missed the performance due to her grandma’s death, causing a rift among the three.

But Sheng Jingyu knew Si Liaoliao’s one-sided targeting of Lu Zhao wasn’t that simple.

Sheng Jingyu pieced together the clues she had gathered recently, gesturing as she said: “Si Liaoliao is your mother’s illegitimate daughter.”

Lu Zhao burst into laughter.

Her eyes held both surprise and disappointment, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders, adding a touch of playful charm: “Teacher, why are you like this? I wanted to keep it a mystery.”

For some reason, she seemed amused. Sheng Jingyu slightly curved her eyes, knowingly asking: “Did I guess right?”

“Yes.” Lu Zhao nodded.

That statement, confirming Si Liaoliao’s identity, wasn’t spoken aloud by Lu Zhao, which made her feel much lighter.

She adjusted her sitting posture slightly, following Sheng Jingyu’s words to express the dissatisfaction hidden in her heart: “My mother really protected them well. It wasn’t until my grandma passed away, when she took full control, that she brought them here.”

As she spoke, Lu Zhao released her hands from around her legs, casually pointing at the mansion behind them: “This old mansion we live in now is the inheritance my grandma left me. It’s also our Lu family’s ancestral home.”

“I was really foolish back then. Every time I came here to share our band stories with my grandmas, they always looked uneasy. I thought they disapproved of me slacking off. It was only after hearing their will that I realized they knew all along.”

Lu Zhao’s voice carried regret.

Her grandmas did their best to counterbalance their daughter but couldn’t escape the passage of time and their weakening bodies.

Her mother, Qin Xi, was the same.

“Don’t you think, looking back, you notice so many clues?” Lu Zhao asked herself.

Her voice revealed a sense of helplessness, unable to change the past.

She wouldn’t say she missed the past; even recalling the moments of their friendship made her feel sick.

Si Liaoliao was exactly like Lu Xu, with beautiful acting skills that hid all their intentions.

She genuinely approached Si Liaoliao with the mindset of being lifelong friends, only to receive her triumphant smile after usurping her place and relentless suppression.

“She was really good at pretending. I have to admit, I admire her for that,” Lu Zhao said unkindly, yet sincerely impressed in a way. “In those three years of high school, she was always first in our grade, continuously voted as the school beauty, served as class president and student council president, and often represented the school in speech competitions.”

“So no one would believe the truth you told,” Sheng Jingyu said pointedly.

Lu Zhao paused, surprised by Sheng Jingyu’s sharp insight.

The heavy feeling in her heart eased considerably because of Sheng Jingyu’s understanding.

Lu Zhao nodded, agreeing: “Exactly.”

Her desire to confide grew stronger, and the story became more detailed: “She was really favored by Alphas. You wouldn’t believe it, but every holiday, her desk was stuffed full of love letters!”

“What about you?” Sheng Jingyu asked.

The question came quickly, catching Lu Zhao off guard: “Huh? Me?”

Sheng Jingyu clarified: “Did you ever receive love letters?”

Her focus was never on Si Liaoliao.

From the start, she wanted to know about Lu Zhao, but the conversation had been drawn out by her storytelling.

Lu Zhao quickly caught on, lifting her head proudly: “Of course.”

She looked smug, boasting to Sheng Jingyu: “I differentiated in my first year of high school. I’m an S-rank Alpha. The love letters Omegas sent me didn’t fill a drawer, but they filled half of one.”

The night breeze suddenly died down, leaving only the shadows on the wall swaying slightly.

Sheng Jingyu quietly turned her gaze, her calm eyes landing on Lu Zhao’s face.

Even without stage lighting, her features were still sharp and spirited.

Her thick eyebrows framed a prominent nose, her long and dense eyelashes marking her as a rare, striking Alpha.

No wonder someone told her to “pull the curtains.”

No wonder she received so many love letters in her school days.

Silently, Sheng Jingyu exhaled.

She suddenly felt a tightness in her chest, even wanting to take back the watermelon juice she had given Lu Zhao and drink it herself.

But at that moment, the cup in Sheng Jingyu’s view was lifted.

The Alpha’s slightly thin lips kissed the rim of the cup, the juice glistening with a vibrant hue.

Sheng Jingyu blinked slightly, hearing Lu Zhao continue in a complaining tone: “See, even our attributes are different. What’s there to compete over?”

“We’re not the same kind of people, and our lives are destined to be different.”

Sheng Jingyu restrained herself, withdrawing her gaze before Lu Zhao looked at her, and answered calmly: “You understand that, but she doesn’t. Some things you don’t care about are things others value.”

“Maybe so,” Lu Zhao nodded, though not entirely agreeing. “But using any means necessary isn’t right.”

“Do you know how Tomorrow Star went public?” Lu Zhao asked again.

Sheng Jingyu played along: “How did it go public?”

“When I joined the talent show, I randomly picked a company, which was Tomorrow Star. Back then, it was far from what it is now. When Si Liaoliao found out I signed there, not only did she join, but she also brought Lu Xu’s investment to merge with it.”

The excessive pursuit and obstruction paled in comparison to the betrayal of youth.

Pure hatred was far easier to bear than love and hate intertwined.

Lu Zhao even adopted a mocking tone, as if reflecting: “She’s the beloved daughter of the company boss. Blocking a small idol like me was all too easy.”

“Who would’ve thought the people who formed a band together would end up like this, never speaking again?”

The story centered on the grudge between Lu Zhao and Si Liaoliao. Hearing this, Sheng Jingyu recalled the trio she mentioned earlier and asked: “What about the other one?”

“You mean Zhou Ran?” Lu Zhao asked.

Sheng Jingyu nodded: “Yes.”

Recalling this name, Lu Zhao felt a pang of melancholy.

She was much closer to Zhou Ran than to Si Liaoliao, even sharing a mutual respect, collaborating on songwriting and composing. Later, when they differentiated with the same attribute, Lu Zhao was thrilled.

But in the end, Zhou Ran chose Si Liaoliao.

Lu Zhao said: “I still don’t know what Si Liaoliao said to Zhou Ran back then. After I fell out with Si Liaoliao, she chose her over me.”

She paused thoughtfully, then added: “But I heard after high school, Zhou Ran and Si Liaoliao had a falling out too. They didn’t last long either.”

Hearing Lu Zhao mention this name repeatedly, Sheng Jingyu frowned slightly, as if recalling something: “That name sounds familiar.”

Lu Zhao, as if expecting this, said calmly to Sheng Jingyu: “Her? She joined Hear Your Voice Season One, placed third, and was also Zhou Huanyin’s student.”

Sheng Jingyu suddenly remembered: “I have an impression.”

Lu Zhao glanced at Sheng Jingyu, wrinkling her nose slightly: “It’s rare for someone to leave an impression in Teacher’s memory.”

Her tone was odd, and Sheng Jingyu noticed.

She paused, then asked slowly: “Is that what you care about?”

—Referring to the earlier comment she made when puzzled by Lu Zhao.

Lu Zhao froze.

She was actually quite stingy, caring about many things, and Sheng Jingyu, her teacher, was one of her few positive connections.

She was the person Lu Zhao cared about most now.

Lu Zhao thought this but couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Whether it was overthinking or her subconscious truly felt this way, she thought saying it would sound ambiguous, like confessing some kind of affection.

There shouldn’t be such ambiguity between her and Sheng Jingyu.

Sheng Jingyu was her teacher…

Was it because of the Alpha and Omega attributes?

“Everyone around me leaves one by one. I can’t let Teacher leave me too,” Lu Zhao said with a bitter smile, burying her head in her arms. “I seem destined to never hold onto anyone.”

The sea breeze felt damp, like waves breaking, lingering heavily in the air.

Hearing Lu Zhao’s words, Sheng Jingyu pressed her thin lips, her throat trembling silently.

Suddenly, Lu Zhao felt a shadow fall over her face.

A cool fingertip brushed close to her, Sheng Jingyu reaching out silently, tucking a strand of hair behind Lu Zhao’s face.

Their eyes met, as if about to kiss.