After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Since Sheng Jingyu announced her retirement, she almost completely cut off contact with people in the circle.

This included Zhou Huanyin, with whom she was very close.

She came cleanly and could leave cleanly, letting go of fame and fortune, as well as relationships.

Sheng Jingyu once thought that if she had the chance, she would reconnect with Zhou Huanyin.

So, their meeting would definitely not be like this, facing each other through a screen, both pairs of eyes filled with shock.

Sheng Jingyu appeared suddenly, and Zhou Huanyin was completely unprepared.

Her round eyes stared widely, and she almost blurted out Sheng Jingyu’s name beside Lu Zhao.

But at that moment, Sheng Jingyu shook her head slightly from the side.

The movement was gentle, barely stirring her hair, almost imperceptible to those nearby.

As friends for so many years, Zhou Huanyin naturally understood Sheng Jingyu’s meaning and roughly guessed that Lu Zhao probably didn’t know her “Jingyun” identity; otherwise, this girl wouldn’t have chosen her during the audition just to meet Jingyun.

Zhou Huanyin didn’t know what secret Sheng Jingyu was hiding, but she played along, quickly diverting her almost-spoken words: “…Achoo!”

Very ungracefully, Zhou Huanyin let out a loud fake sneeze during the call with Lu Zhao.

Lu Zhao immediately turned her head and asked with concern, “Teacher Zhou, are you okay?”

Zhou Huanyin waved her hand dismissively, rubbing her nose, and said, “I’m fine; my nose was just itchy, and sneezing made it better.”

“That’s good.” Lu Zhao nodded.

She steadily held the phone in front of her, looking at the video screen showing only herself, unaware that she had accidentally let Sheng Jingyu appear in the frame or that Zhou Huanyin had deliberately changed the subject.

Having learned such a secret, Zhou Huanyin felt overwhelmed for a moment.

She finally realized why the background behind Lu Zhao seemed familiar, then said goodbye, “Since you’re at a friend’s place, I won’t disturb you further. Let’s meet at next week’s program recording.”

Lu Zhao responded politely, nodding slightly, “Okay, see you, Teacher Zhou.”

Although she just had a heartwarming call, Lu Zhao still remembered the matter interrupted earlier.

She glanced at the plate of cookies on her lap, caught Sheng Jingyu sitting beside her in her peripheral vision, and picked up the earlier topic, “Teacher, won’t you really eat? They’re delicious; the coconut flavor is especially rich.”

Lu Zhao’s eyes held expectation, sincerity, and a hint of unease.

She didn’t have some strange Alpha-to-Omega control desire over a cookie; rather, she feared her relationship with Sheng Jingyu had returned to its initial lukewarm state.

Just like how Sheng Jingyu had rejected her earlier.

Lu Zhao was a bit afraid Sheng Jingyu might find her annoying, her voice softer than before, “I tried them; the texture is perfect now, not hot anymore.”

As if catching a keyword, Sheng Jingyu’s gaze, fixed on the magazine, paused slightly.

She suddenly turned to look at Lu Zhao, her eyes meeting a pair of pupils cautiously filled with expectation.

Lu Zhao’s earlier cheerful conversation with another Omega replayed in Sheng Jingyu’s ears; looking at the person offering the cookies, she couldn’t pinpoint what felt right, but the “awkwardness” she had felt earlier suddenly vanished from her heart.

The magazine was placed on her lap, and Sheng Jingyu calmly picked up a cookie, “Thanks.”

Although Sheng Jingyu’s gesture was polite, it lacked any sense of distance.

The expectation in Lu Zhao’s eyes instantly burst into radiant joy.

She smiled and said to Sheng Jingyu, “You’re welcome!”

Her familiar, unguarded tone was completely different from how she spoke to the flight attendant earlier.

The buttery flavor melted in the mouth, and the delicate coconut evoked a sea breeze.

Sheng Jingyu slightly lowered her eyes, seemingly noticing something in the contrast.

The magazine on her lap was finally flipped to the next page with one hand.

Sheng Jingyu ate the cookie slowly, and the obscure music theory article in the magazine suddenly seemed easier to understand.

Since the flight took off in the evening, it was nearly dawn the next day when the plane reached the private island.

It was really late; even Lu Zhao, who was used to staying up, couldn’t hold on. After the butler led them to their rooms, Lu Zhao said a simple goodnight to Sheng Jingyu and dragged her heavy steps to collapse onto the soft bed.

Watching the opposite door close, Sheng Jingyu walked to her room, taking out her constantly vibrating phone.

From the moment they got off the plane, her waistband pocket kept buzzing with messages; she didn’t need to think to know who was sending them.

The red notification on the green app was particularly eye-catching; Sheng Jingyu glanced at the double-digit number, calmly opening the app.

Aside from two progress reports from Chen Annie, the rest were all messages from Zhou Huanyin to Sheng Jingyu.

[Tell me, where have you been these days! Why can’t I ever reach you!]

[You suddenly announced your retirement, fine, but you even sent me a message saying we’d meet again if fate allows! I know you care about me, telling me specifically, but do you know how much that scared me!]

[Heavens, I was so miserably fooled by you, you heartless woman! I worried about you every day, couldn’t eat or sleep, and you’re taking my student on a private jet to travel the world!]

[Jingyun, my life is so bitter! I treated you as a friend, and this is how you treat me! Do you think you’re fair to me? Wuwuwuwuwu…]

Zhou Huanyin’s messages came like a barrage, one after another, bombarding Sheng Jingyu.

Sheng Jingyu knew Zhou Huanyin typed fast, but she was still impressed by her astonishing speed, noticing not a single typo in the string of messages.

Thinking she really owed Zhou Huanyin this time, Sheng Jingyu replied helplessly, [Ask away, I’ll answer what I can.]

In the early morning, the world was dim and quiet; Zhou Huanyin, tired from typing, leaned on the sofa, dozing off with her phone.

But her drooping head was suddenly lit up by the phone’s light, as if jolted awake; seeing the new message, her sleepiness vanished, and her fingers flew across the screen.

[Why did you suddenly retire!]

[Where did you disappear to these days!]

[Who is Lu Zhao to you!]

In less than half a minute, Sheng Jingyu received three exclamations from Zhou Huanyin.

Impressed, Sheng Jingyu silently sighed.

When she announced her retirement, reporters eager for firsthand news flocked to her, nearly overwhelming Chen Annie’s phone.

But she didn’t want to respond.

Her gland pressing on her vocal cords didn’t seem like an unspeakable condition.

But for Sheng Jingyu, it was the one thing she couldn’t let others know.

She didn’t want to tell anyone, not even that she was ill.

All who contacted Chen Annie came confidently to pry information from Sheng Jingyu, but left disappointed, without exception.

So Sheng Jingyu didn’t answer all of Zhou Huanyin’s questions, only saying, [Lu Zhao is my student.]

Zhou Huanyin frowned at the words, seeming dissatisfied and puzzled, but suddenly relaxed as if it made sense.

Many of her questions seemed to connect in an instant, and her fingers typed excitedly, [So you sent Chen Annie!]

[Today’s events had your hand in them, didn’t they!]

[Impressive, Jingyun, you protect your own so thoroughly.]

Connecting the dots, Zhou Huanyin paused, her admiration mixed with narcissism, [Ah… I’m a bit jealous of Lu Zhao. She not only has a teacher like me but also one like you.]

Sheng Jingyu slightly lowered her eyes.

She didn’t know where this possessiveness came from, but Zhou Huanyin’s words vaguely displeased her, and her fingers tapped the screen coldly, [She is my student.]

Zhou Huanyin was stunned, surprised by Sheng Jingyu’s attitude.

But her surprise wasn’t due to the domineering tone; she knew Sheng Jingyu was the most detached person, so if she valued something deeply, she showed an obsession far beyond others.

It was something she unconsciously revealed, clear to onlookers but not to herself.

Zhou Huanyin wouldn’t argue with Sheng Jingyu, only teasing, [Then I guess you were at Lu Zhao’s audition, right?]

[Lu Zhao’s voice, if trained well, could absolutely rival yours. She sings your songs, keeping your essence but adding her own flair; it’s truly delightful to hear.]

The bright light stood out in the quiet night, and Sheng Jingyu’s eyes curved slightly under it.

At the level of an Idol, anyone would have some pride in their talent, but Sheng Jingyu felt no annoyance when others used her to highlight Lu Zhao.

She was happy for her.

She also looked forward to the day Lu Zhao could stand beside her, no longer as subordinate or student.

With that thought, Zhou Huanyin’s message vibrated against Sheng Jingyu’s palm, [Jingyun, I remember your little student was an idol, right? Have you seen her talent show stage?]

Sheng Jingyu, focused on creating these years, didn’t pay much attention to the entertainment industry and was unfamiliar with these terms, [Talent show stage?]

[I knew it.] Zhou Huanyin, as if expecting this, said, [Your little student had a viral stage; even I, an Alpha, was a bit moved by it, truly captivating!]

Sheng Jingyu faintly frowned, pondering what “captivating” meant.

As if reading her mind, Zhou Huanyin sent Sheng Jingyu, the slightly out-of-touch old soul, a direct video of Lu Zhao’s stage, with the caption, [Ah Yin invites you to enjoy your Alpha little student; sweet dreams tonight!]

Seeing Zhou Huanyin’s slightly cheesy text, Sheng Jingyu felt a bit of disdain.

But she didn’t exit the chat after Zhou Huanyin ended it; with the moonlight low, she calmly watched the video load.

Once loaded, the video played automatically.

Sheng Jingyu tapped the screen twice, then turned the phone horizontally.

The video’s brightness wasn’t high, with faint red light emerging.

Even with deliberately dimmed lighting that barely showed an outline, Sheng Jingyu recognized Lu Zhao at a glance.

Lu Zhao sat on a chair, head bowed, shoulders and neck forming a beautiful line in the shadows; each breath moved her heartbeat subtly, inexplicably tugging at others’ hearts.

Then, high-pitched music blared, and the stage lit up.

Watery light spread across the stage; Lu Zhao stood, looking at the camera, her carefully styled hair mixed with a few scorpion braids, her makeup refined down to the sparkling tips of her eyes, but her lipstick stretched long past her lips.

It wasn’t like someone deliberately ruined it; it was intentional, giving a battle-worn beauty on this splashing stage.

Sheng Jingyu’s gaze suddenly froze.

Her eyes unconsciously locked tightly on Lu Zhao’s face, moving with her.

Unlike Lu Zhao’s usual clothing style that Sheng Jingyu was accustomed to, here Lu Zhao wore a tightly buttoned outfit.

Even though the black shirt muted her presence, it couldn’t hide her striking waistline.

Her hand, shaped like a gun, moved in front of her face, following the music’s rhythm across her nose, lips, neck, and chest.

It stopped at her waist and hips.

The camera, as if knowing, zoomed in at that moment.

Her pure form filled Sheng Jingyu’s vision instantly—slim waist, narrow hips, tight fabric perfectly wrapping Lu Zhao’s waist, each movement rippling the folds, as if sketching this Alpha’s frame through the cloth.

Her staring eyes froze, and the earlobes hidden under her long hair quickly flushed red.

Sheng Jingyu kept watching, her mind involuntarily recalling that night when Lu Zhao straddled her lap.

She had touched that place so vividly and intimately.

She had pushed that place to pull her into an embrace, kissing her without reason.

After the chorus, the camera pulled back to normal distance.

Lu Zhao raised her slender fingers, boldly brushing her lips; those full lips parted slightly, leaving a striking red on her fingertips.

Sheng Jingyu also remembered the taste of those lips.

No bloody rust, just the sweet fullness of lychee, enticing.

The next day was clear, with humid air unique to the island, unlike the mainland.

Having arrived so late, Sheng Jingyu slept until mid-morning for the first time.

But even with such a long sleep, Sheng Jingyu still didn’t rest well.

When she woke, her mind felt chaotic, as if her restless brain had been active as long as she slept.

Even the gland at the back of her neck pulsed restlessly.

Sheng Jingyu checked carefully, confirming her gland was fine, then walked downstairs.

The sea breeze blew lightly through the open balcony, but it didn’t ease her heavy steps.

“Teacher!”

At that moment, Sheng Jingyu heard someone call her.

She turned her head, and two sea breezes collided, rushing toward her.

Her long hair traced a glowing arc; Lu Zhao emerged suddenly from the pool in the courtyard.

Bikini straps tied into two pretty bows rested at her hips; water droplets slid down the body that was tightly wrapped in last night’s video.