After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The distant returning birds flew home, shaking the treetops, and a rustling breeze swept through the garden.

Sheng Jingyu stood under the wisteria flowers, the breeze passing through the interwoven vines, lifting a strand of her hair, then letting it fall suddenly.

One had to admit, Sheng Jingyu had a pair of very beautiful eyes.

Her drooping eyes followed a peach-blossom-like contour, slightly upturned, with half-open brows carrying a coolness completely opposite to the summer, as if pushing the sound of cicadas far away in an instant.

The scene not far away was filled with the hustle and bustle of people coming and going, but where Sheng Jingyu stood, the world became exceptionally quiet.

The summer breeze carried the chill of an ice pop, landing on Lu Zhao’s hand, and the mechanical voice from her phone, devoid of any emotion, suddenly pulled Lu Zhao out of her bold claims.

Chenchen, as the start of all mischief, saw things going south and immediately picked up the ice pop bag beside her, saying, “Oh no, the ice pops are almost melting! I need to hurry and share them with the movers. Talk later, Zhao!”

With that, Chenchen scurried off toward the mansion.

She gathered all her strength to escape, and Lu Zhao, seeing this, reached out to stop her but only grasped a handful of air.

Lu Zhao’s gaze flickered, struggling to stay calm, her retracting motion awkward and difficult.

She didn’t know if Sheng Jingyu had heard her earlier words, so she forced a smile, responding to Sheng Jingyu’s earlier greeting, “Miss Sheng, you’re looking for me?”

Sheng Jingyu nodded, maintaining her usual calm demeanor.

She glanced faintly at this Alpha who had just been full of vigor, showing no particular reaction, bypassing the incident and getting to the point, “The workers measured the small hall’s dimensions. To fit the piano, we need to remove a cabinet, so I came to ask you.”

Lu Zhao’s mood felt like a rollercoaster, having just experienced a thrilling dive, only to suddenly enter a flat track.

She steadied herself slightly, recalling the cabinet Sheng Jingyu mentioned, and nodded, “Then remove it. After that, place it behind the living room sofa as a side cabinet.”

Sheng Jingyu nodded in understanding.

She lifted her foot to leave, but looking at Lu Zhao, who was cooling off alone, she added, “Miss Lu, won’t you come along? I won’t eat you up.”

Sheng Jingyu’s gesture was silent, yet it struck like a bolt from the blue.

Lu Zhao froze in place, and when she looked up, she saw Sheng Jingyu watching her with a half-smile.

She heard.

She actually heard everything.

Since she was in the wrong, Lu Zhao had no right to refuse and followed Sheng Jingyu.

As light and shadow swayed, Lu Zhao’s vision fixed on Sheng Jingyu’s back.

She suddenly felt that this seemingly aloof, unworldly housemate might have a bit of a cunning side.

.

The movers worked efficiently, quickly placing the cabinet behind the living room sofa.

That was its original place.

Back then, the small hall had been empty for a long time, and Lu Zhao, one quiet evening, moved the cabinet there alone.

That day, she was drenched in sweat, and the next day, she nearly lacked the strength to shoot her group’s music video.

But the empty space was finally filled.

Even if it was in a self-deceiving way.

Memories drifted vaguely, and Lu Zhao watched the small hall return to its empty state, seeing the vacant spot filled by the piano the workers brought in, its three legs fitting perfectly into the sunken marks.

It was like a memory reset.

Her slender, defined fingers rested on the piano, gently stroking it.

Lu Zhao looked at the piano and asked Sheng Jingyu, “Can I play it to test it?”

Sheng Jingyu knew Lu Zhao was a popular female idol in the entertainment industry. Having no prior interaction with such people, she was somewhat curious about their musical skills. Seeing Lu Zhao’s request, she nodded, “Yes, the tuning was adjusted before it was delivered.”

“Thanks.” Excited suddenly, Lu Zhao was eager to try.

She adjusted her clothes briefly before sitting at the piano bench.

There was no sheet music on the piano, so she lowered her head, playing a tune from memory.

Crisp notes rang out with her falling fingers, a soft sound at first, then blending into a melody with the continuous notes that followed.

Lu Zhao’s fingers were long and slender, moving unhurriedly, her lifting and falling motions elegant and clean, striking clear sounds note by note.

The tune was completely unfamiliar to Chenchen, but Sheng Jingyu couldn’t be more familiar with it.

As soon as the prelude began, she recognized it—a discarded song from her second album, released ten years ago.

A so-called discarded song was one abandoned by the artist, not included in the album.

Sheng Jingyu had a habit of releasing her discarded songs after an album’s launch. Limited by distribution channels, these songs were niche among niches, and only her diehard fans would listen to them.

Time couldn’t erase a song’s melody, and the sound of the keys drifted through the curved small hall.

Sunlight poured like a sea through the floor-to-ceiling windows, rising and falling before Sheng Jingyu, its gentle waves immersive, perfectly presenting the effect she had expressed back then.

So, that drunken night at the bar wasn’t an illusion—this person genuinely admired her.

Sheng Jingyu listened silently, her thoughts swirling.

But then, a sudden voice interrupted.

“Our Zhao started learning piano at a young age. Several songs in our group were composed by her,” Chenchen said.

Seeing Sheng Jingyu allow Lu Zhao to use her piano, Chenchen knew nothing major had happened earlier and boldly approached, introducing to Sheng Jingyu, “And every one of them was a small hit, especially ‘Maybe,’ which even topped the monthly new song chart.”

The little girl’s voice was full of pride, and Sheng Jingyu’s calm eyes showed a hint of surprise.

She knew the song; her friend Zhou Huanyin, who had also won several best female artist awards, had recommended it to her.

The song’s melody boldly leaned on low notes, with the word “maybe” sung in a drawn-out tone, like a question, like a chant, carrying faint sadness, evoking deep emotion.

Acknowledging this, Sheng Jingyu nodded, “Miss Lu is very talented.”

Hearing Sheng Jingyu praise her Zhao, Chenchen’s face lit up with a smile, “You think so too, right?”

But her mood soon sank again, and she said, “It’s a pity our Zhao is great at songwriting and composing, but her luck is bad.”

“She ran into a two-faced teammate, and just when the group was about to disband, letting her go solo, her idol announced retirement, so they’ll never collaborate.”

Chenchen spoke with reluctance, and Sheng Jingyu’s expression gradually calmed.

In all her years in the industry, Sheng Jingyu had never seen someone perfect in every way. Failure to become famous was due to a bad environment or bad luck.

She had heard too many such complaints.

But from her perspective, she could spot many issues at a glance.

Like the song Chenchen mentioned.

If it hadn’t had that awkward leap in the third measure, the song would have reached a wider audience and could have been considered a great song that year, perhaps even becoming a defining memory of that time in the future.

But there were no what-ifs.

Self-pity would only drag natural talent lower and lower.

“Don’t make me sound so pitiful, okay?” Sheng Jingyu was thinking when Lu Zhao’s words interrupted.

She looked at Chenchen, knowing she was upset on her behalf, but didn’t agree with her words.

In this profit-driven industry, Lu Zhao was one of the rare ones who didn’t chase fame or fortune.

Her words carried no trace of complaint, even sounding optimistic, “Jingyun retired, not passed away. If I work hard, maybe one day Jingyun will sit in the audience and listen to me sing.”

“Don’t you think so, Miss Sheng?”

Saying this, Lu Zhao looked at Sheng Jingyu, who was also part of the conversation.

Her amber eyes sparkled brightly in the light, full of vitality, seeking agreement from Sheng Jingyu.

Sheng Jingyu knew well the toll of repeated setbacks, and this person’s gaze struck her.

This Alpha seemed different from others, not only free of self-pity but radiant like a little sun.

Sheng Jingyu squinted slightly, nodding in agreement with Lu Zhao’s words, “Yes.”

With her opinion in the majority, Lu Zhao proudly tilted her head at Chenchen.

She stood up from the piano bench, stroking the piano’s body, and couldn’t help but sigh, “After all these years, the tone of Mr. Alex’s pianos hasn’t changed.”

Sheng Jingyu was surprised by Lu Zhao’s familiar tone and, recalling the story of this small hall, asked, “Was this the piano originally in Miss Lu’s home?”

“No, the piano at home was very ordinary.” Lu Zhao shook her head, looking at the current layout of the small hall and living room, feeling like it was a lifetime ago.

Bright sunlight filled the windows, its glow flowing over the glossy black piano.

The piano’s sound was clear and pure, and a little girl stood beside a piano as tall as her, standing on tiptoes, watching the person playing, the music ethereal, captivating her.

As sunlight fell, it brought Lu Zhao a sense of déjà vu.

But in that fleeting moment, more than a decade had passed.

Lu Zhao’s gaze grew heavy, and as she stroked the piano beside her, she drew a clear line between restless memories and reality, “That piano’s tone was good too, but it couldn’t compare to this one.”

Standing nearby, Sheng Jingyu sensed Lu Zhao’s emotional shift for the second time.

She frowned slightly, finding her repeated sensitivity strange.

Zhou Huanyin had once teased her, saying that before meeting her, she thought Sheng Jingyu would be an emotionally sensitive person.

How could someone who created such emotionally rich and profound work not be?

But she wasn’t.

She was a stone, her calm interior more indifferent to the world.

Due to her underdeveloped gland, she couldn’t sense pheromones like a Beta, or even as much as a Beta could.

Aside from music, nothing else resonated with her like a chord; it was as if she was born only to leave behind this sound.

Could this be related to pheromones too?

Steamy heat surged out as the glass door was pushed open, and the moon outside was veiled in a thin layer of mist.

Sheng Jingyu, wearing a bathrobe, stepped out, water droplets not fully dried sliding from her half-dry hair to her shoulder, dampening a small patch of fabric.

The belt at her waist was loosely tied, the open collar widening along her shoulder, revealing delicate skin that faintly showed a peach-like pink.

But Sheng Jingyu didn’t seem to care about this.

She casually rubbed her hair, holding her phone in one hand, her serious expression suggesting she was studying something.

Yet the glass window behind her betrayed her.

The tablet didn’t display sheet music, lyrics, or books, but her chat history with her doctor, Cheng Xin.

While soaking in the bath, Sheng Jingyu had briefly told Cheng Xin about today’s events, emphasizing her confusion.

Cheng Xin’s reply was brief, just one line.

[Your body is craving her pheromones.]