After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 52

Chapter 52

In fact, Sheng Jingyu applied the medicine herself over the past few days.

She usually did things she could handle without actively troubling others.

But when Sheng Jingyu changed clothes and sat by the bed, she suddenly didn’t want to be so independent anymore.

Since the other party first blurred the boundaries, she no longer wanted to strictly follow the rules, and for the first time, Sheng Jingyu chose to ignore the rigid world principles.

Thus, two sounds echoed in the corridor.

Lu Zhao opened the door, and Sheng Jingyu appeared before her, holding a small medicine jar.

A faint herbal scent wafted between them; Sheng Jingyu had an ulterior motive, and Lu Zhao keenly caught the flaw in her words.

The room’s light flickered slightly in Sheng Jingyu’s vision; Lu Zhao’s slender figure leaned slightly against the door.

A smile rose in those gentle eyes, direct yet ambiguous: “So, is Teacher blurring the rules?”

Having spent much time together, Sheng Jingyu easily discerned the meaning in Lu Zhao’s words.

She subtly curved her eyes and admitted, asking: “Is that okay?”

Rules were made for people to follow, but Lu Zhao was never one to strictly adhere to them.

She didn’t mind Sheng Jingyu trading yesterday’s kiss for today’s medicine application, so she leaned slightly and said: “Come in.”

Lu Zhao felt somewhat relieved that she tidied her room today for a video call with Zhou Huanyin.

She turned her back to Sheng Jingyu to close the door, secretly exhaling a breath.

But just as she exhaled, she held her breath again the next second.

The room’s lights shone brightly, and as she turned, she saw Sheng Jingyu sitting on a chair, lightly unbuttoning her shirt.

Moonlight intertwined with the room’s lighting, softly filtering through the shirt draped over her shoulder.

Half her shoulder was exposed to the air, her pale skin encasing her bones like fine mutton-fat jade.

In an instant, memories flashed back, and Lu Zhao suddenly recalled that noon.

Evening sunlight, less clear than daylight, carried a hazy veil; compared to the heat-filled moment, the jade-like skin appearing now, when she was fully aware, was even more striking.

Lu Zhao’s hand slid off the doorknob, her gaze averted like an elegant gentleman.

But she wasn’t some gentlemanly Alpha; she was simply restraining her desires, warning herself not to overstep.

Fortunately, Sheng Jingyu didn’t do anything excessive next.

She unhurriedly pulled her clothes in front of her, covering the snow-white skin that nearly fell into Lu Zhao’s gaze, and gestured calmly: “The ointment is on the table, please.”

“Okay,” Lu Zhao nodded.

Perhaps the herbal scent calmed her; Lu Zhao moved toward the table with composed restraint, casually pulling a nearby stool with her foot.

Sheng Jingyu sat upright, her flat, fair back displaying two butterfly bones at the top, moving slightly with her breathing, so delicate it seemed wings might sprout the next second.

But such beauty abruptly changed in the lower half.

Mottled scratches formed red scabs, crisscrossing without any pattern, purely and violently disrupting the descending view.

A fine brush, coated with ointment, carefully glided over these marks in Lu Zhao’s hand, her fingers subtly brushing the uneven skin.

The ointment cooled on the scabbed scars, while the fingertips touching them were warm.

On impulse, Lu Zhao boldly let her once-hovering hand rest on the scars, lightly and cautiously tracing them, her heart surging.

She certainly remembered where Sheng Jingyu’s scars came from.

These were injuries her teacher took for her.

The delicate skin flushed faintly red, the scratches stark, like a flower drenched and ravaged in a storm.

If she kissed them…

The room was quiet, Sheng Jingyu’s back moved slightly with her breathing.

The scent of sea breeze escaped the air conditioner, clinging to her back, inching closer to her.

Sheng Jingyu knew that was Lu Zhao’s presence.

She thought she should urgently escape this increasingly dangerous signal, but her body, seated on the chair, remained unmoving, even more composed than before.

Clouds passed the setting sun outside the window; the central air conditioning’s cool air was evident, yet it couldn’t suppress the room’s heat.

The shadows on the wall reflected the shrinking distance, unseen desires quietly rose in each heart, and the silence, without seeing each other’s expressions, grew subtle.

The boundaries between them had long blurred; no one dwelled on the rules set initially.

She advanced a step, she yielded a step.

She was vague, she was ambiguous and alluring.

Lu Zhao slowly drew closer, her shadow kissed Sheng Jingyu’s back, her lips a millimeter from landing.

“Buzz buzz buzz!!!”

The phone’s vibration rang against the table, recklessly loud.

Lu Zhao, as if struck on the head, snapped awake.

Her heartbeat completely faltered.

She quickly grabbed the phone, silencing the sudden alarm.

In her flurry, she nearly dropped the phone.

Sheng Jingyu sensed the commotion behind her and turned to Lu Zhao: “Something wrong?”

Her eyes were calm as water, outwardly unruffled.

No one knew her heart, pounding beneath the fabric.

Lu Zhao was the same.

She hurriedly shook her head, explaining: “No. I often set many alarms to remind myself what to do. This one’s telling me it’s time to tidy up and get ready to rest.”

“I see,” Sheng Jingyu nodded, calmly glancing at the clock in Lu Zhao’s room.

The hour hand had just stopped at ten, indeed a time to prepare for rest.

“Then I won’t disturb you,” Sheng Jingyu quietly gathered her clothes, standing from the chair.

The rebuttoned shirt concealed the room’s ambiguity, as if nothing had happened.

Lu Zhao simply packed the medicine jar and brush, then stood to see Sheng Jingyu out.

If Lu Zhao were still her old self, she would have found her behavior odd.

Sheng Jingyu’s room was right next door, yet she still walked her out, as if she were particularly concerned.

But was it really concern?

Lu Zhao watched Sheng Jingyu push open her door and softly called: “Teacher.”

Sheng Jingyu paused at the sound, turning to Lu Zhao.

She thought Lu Zhao had something important to say.

But Lu Zhao had nothing important to say; her lips simply parted, uttering two clear, gentle words: “Good night.”

It had been a long time since anyone actively said that to Sheng Jingyu.

The last time was when she was nine.

Sheng Jingyu’s eyes paused briefly, and she raised her hand on the doorknob: “Good night.”

Once a plan was marked on the calendar, time passed quickly.

The disbandment album’s preparations dragged initially, but as the deadline neared, the agency rushed; in this short week, Lu Zhao ran back and forth, shooting MVs, ignoring Si Liaoliao’s provocations, leaving Duan Xuan no chance to pick fights.

In a blink, the preliminary competition’s official recording began.

The mentors’ team lounges bustled with people; the large rooms couldn’t withstand the chaos, and makeup was no longer the assembly line of auditions—though not overly refined, each contestant’s makeup now had distinct traits.

Lu Zhao lightly pressed her deliberately bright red lips, unsure if it was her group habit, but even with few people in the viewing room after makeup, she sat directly at the edge near the door, feeling somewhat distant from others.

As more made-up contestants entered, the surrounding chatter grew complex.

Lu Zhao quietly took out her earphones, wearing one, obediently following Sheng Jingyu’s pre-competition advice to rest her eyes.

“Lu Zhao.”

But fate didn’t comply; soon, a small shadow fell over Lu Zhao’s head.

Even the voice was small.

Hearing someone call her, Lu Zhao removed her earphone and looked up.

It was a somewhat cute girl, with a round, soft face, instantly reminding Lu Zhao of “cute sister”; she vaguely recalled her name was Yuan Ning.

Lu Zhao was curious why she called her and asked politely: “What’s up?”

Yuan Ning pointed at the seat beside Lu Zhao: “Is someone here? Can I sit?”

Lu Zhao had just been resting her eyes and wasn’t sure if anyone was there, but seeing the leather cushion unmarked, she said: “Probably no one, you can sit.”

Hearing this, Yuan Ning smiled brightly, as if a wish was granted.

She said “Thank you” to Lu Zhao, gathered her sweet skirt, and sat beside her.

In Zhou Huanyin’s team, except for Lu Zhao, who had debuted, the others were amateurs.

Everyone chatted loudly, and the viewing room grew livelier.

Suddenly, an electronic crackle cut through the room, and the speaker announced the recording was about to start.

The room quieted instantly; minutes later, the central screen in the viewing room lit up.

Colorful beams flashed dazzlingly, the four mentors’ distinct voices emerged together, harmonizing in one song.

The audience’s cheers were loud and relentless, like a lively fan meeting.

The host took the stage to control the crowd, tactfully teasing the mentors, gradually calming the excited audience.

Lu Zhao lightly bit her lip, listening as the topic shifted to the main event, watching the host press the button for the matchup results under everyone’s gaze.

Four beams representing the mentors flickered on the screen, faster and faster.

Then, Zhou Huanyin versus Wu Ai and Shen Yuanqing versus Lin Yueling appeared on the screen.

“It’s Teacher Wu Ai.”

“Wow, their team seems to have several strong people.”

“We don’t know who we’ll face yet, right?”

“Seems like we find out on stage.”

“I feel my song might face Li Changming, help.”

The viewing room erupted in exclamations and discussions; those just on stage seemed to lack confidence.

Yuan Ning also worried about her opponent, but turned to see Lu Zhao sitting steadily: “Aren’t you nervous?”

Lu Zhao glanced at Yuan Ning, whose face showed clear tension.

Seeing this, she smiled and said: “How could I be? I just tell myself in my heart, I’m called Not Nervous, you can try it too.”

Hearing Lu Zhao’s words, Yuan Ning, who was nervous moments ago, burst out laughing: “You’re so funny.”

Lu Zhao smiled politely, seeing her less nervous and said no more.

She didn’t have much energy to mind others; she was not only nervous but also felt an ominous premonition seeing Wu Ai’s name.

She remembered Si Liaoliao was in Wu Ai’s team.

The saying “enemies meet on a narrow road” was spot-on; the more you feared something, the more it came.

Lu Zhao sighed heavily in her heart; no matter how tough, she had to win this fight.

The matchup results sent the audience into an uproar of anticipation, eagerly watching the mentors decide the order of the two groups.

The four politely deferred, none speaking first, until Zhou Huanyin suggested rock-paper-scissors, with the winner choosing the matchup order.

The grand singing competition’s tone shifted abruptly; moments ago, serious mentors now circled on the big screen, playing rock-paper-scissors with a thrilling vibe.

Finally, Zhou Huanyin let out a joyful cheer.

Her luck was good; with Wu Ai out first, she won three times against Lin Yueling and Shen Yuanqing’s alliance, choosing to go last.

The opening was always toughest, and the audience’s reaction needed testing.

Shen Yuanqing still fretted over his loss, muttering as he sat: “Ugh, I should’ve played rock!”

Zhou Huanyin laughed, patting her junior’s shoulder, and said: “Don’t think that way, you wouldn’t have beaten me with scissors either, right, Teacher Wu Ai?”

Zhou Huanyin was somewhat brazenly proud, but Wu Ai, a seasoned veteran, just smiled, showing no opinion.

At that moment, Zhou Huanyin’s team viewing room relaxed seeing this result.

Though cameras were still rolling, everyone shed their earlier tension.

Lu Zhao also slightly relaxed, standing to go to the restroom.

But glancing at the room, she grabbed her cup and went out.

It was a large-capacity children’s sippy cup Chenchen bought her, its colorful cartoon stickers clashing entirely with her outfit, but she didn’t mind, remembering Sheng Jingyu’s earlier advice.

The restroom’s monotonous flush sounded; Lu Zhao unhurriedly emerged from the stall, faintly hearing singing from the venue.

The water muffled the sound intermittently, yet the song’s beauty shone through.

Lu Zhao felt nervous, unsure who she’d face when her turn came.

She didn’t know who she’d face in the matchup, but she knew who she’d meet leaving the female Alpha restroom.

—Just as she turned the corner, Lu Zhao saw Si Liaoliao coming out of the female Omega restroom next door.

What bad luck.

With the competition nearing, Lu Zhao didn’t want contact with Si Liaoliao here.

Since the program crew didn’t place cameras here, she passed her by, just like during the album recording days ago.

But Si Liaoliao seemed unwilling to be repeatedly ignored by Lu Zhao, sneering: “Sure enough, becoming someone’s canary changes your attitude.”