Dressed as the Scumbag Alpha Mom of the Tragic Female Lead (ABO, GL) - Chapter 34

Chapter 34

“Ugh, I’m dying.” Zhuang Qi slumped in her chair, complaining weakly. “I thought things would ease up after the welcome party, but it’s even more exhausting.”

“How’s the investigation going? Any leads?”

Though she felt the matter no longer concerned her, Jiang Chuxie, curious about Liang Que, asked anyway.

“We’ve ruled out a lot of people, but that makes it harder to pinpoint a target. Council members undergo background checks, especially Betas, and we found no ties to the opposition. The president even used special channels to contact the opposition, and they said they never sent the threat letter. They mocked us hard, so now we’re even more clueless.”

No surprise—expecting students to do police work was bound to fail.

“Didn’t you say Yu Wen woke up? He didn’t see anything?”

“Nope, he was attacked from behind.”

“Aphrodisiacs aren’t sedatives. They don’t knock you out instantly. Even if he didn’t see the attacker’s face, he could’ve gauged their height or build while being grabbed, or felt their clothing. He has no impression at all?”

“Yu Wen’s still recovering from the aftereffects, and his emotions are unstable. The doctor said not to push him too hard. We asked a few questions and got kicked out.”

“What about Liang Que?”

“Liang Que…” Zhuang Qi looked at Jiang Chuxie regretfully. “I hate him, but he has an alibi. Plenty of people can vouch he was in the auditorium.”

“What about accomplices?”

“We’d need to find the main culprit first.”

Jiang Chuxie nodded. “Long road ahead. Good luck.”

“Don’t act like it’s not your problem. Guess why Liang Que targeted you?”

“Why?”

To Jiang Chuxie, Liang Que was scapegoating her. She suspected him because of his hostility.

“Liang Que likes Yu Wen! Before the party, he kept inviting Yu Wen. Yu Wen wanted to ask you, and though he didn’t in the end, he still didn’t accept Liang Que. Instead, he went with another Alpha.”

“That’s got nothing to do with me. I didn’t accept Yu Wen’s invite.”

“Does a rival need to be rational?” Zhuang Qi rolled her eyes. “Don’t underestimate Liang Que just because he’s a Beta. He’s not much, but the Liang family isn’t.”

“The Liang family?”

Zhuang Qi’s mention jogged Jiang Chuxie’s memory of a key Liang family figure in the story—one of the heroine’s six Alphas, surnamed Liang.

No way it’s that coincidental, right?

“The Liang family claims scholarly prestige. They seem low-key but have strong ties to politics and business. You think Liang Que became president just because the Humanities Institute has few Alphas? There are still some, but they gave him a pass for the Liang family’s sake. In the arts, crossing them is career suicide.”

The more Jiang Chuxie heard, the more it matched her memory, chilling her.

“Does Liang Que… have an Alpha older brother?”

“How’d you know?”

Her heart sank, but she pressed on. “Is his brother a famous director with a… five-year-old son?”

“No idea about the son’s age, but Director Liang’s well-known… You know the Liang family, don’t you?”

But she didn’t know Liang Que was that Liang!

Jiang Chuxie finally recalled why Liang Que’s name rang a bell. That Liang Alpha mentioned a “useless second uncle.” Without Zhuang Qi’s mention of the family, she’d never have connected it.

“Chuxie, you look awful,” Zhuang Qi said, thinking she was scared. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back. Plus, you’re tight with Gu Lingjun now—why fear him? We’re not in the arts.”

If you knew your future daughter would be tangled up with his nephew, would you look so calm?

She didn’t even have a daughter yet, but Jiang Chuxie was inexplicably anxious.

“I still think Liang Que’s suspicious. By the way, have you considered the letter sender and the attacker might not be the same?”

“Why’d you think that?”

“The opposition said they didn’t send the letter. You believe them?”

“They’re annoying, but they don’t bother lying about this.”

“Okay, assuming it’s not them, what’s the sender’s motive?”

“Disgruntled, bored, lone rebel?”

Jiang Chuxie fumed at her nonsense. “To stop the welcome party, obviously!”

“Whoa, just joking. But why stop the party? Isn’t that the opposition’s goal?”

“Don’t you think it’s more personal? Like, say, failing to get a dance partner, plus pent-up resentment from Beta discrimination, so they sent the letter in a fit.”

“Hmm, possible… but Chuxie, you’re pointing straight at Liang Que.”

Exactly. Jiang Chuxie still suspected him, both for his Liang family ties and his irrational targeting that day.

“I do suspect him.”

“Then why say the attacker isn’t with him?”

“Simple. The attacker targeted Yu Wen. Liang Que likes Yu Wen, and from his reaction in the office, he was genuinely worried. If it was his accomplice, they wouldn’t target Yu Wen. Plus, Liang Que seemed aggressive but was actually nervous and guilty. I think he’s only bold enough for a threat letter.”

Otherwise, his nephew wouldn’t call him useless.

“Why not think the attacker sent the letter?”

“It’s possible. Then Liang Que’s just jealous. But that makes identifying the culprit and motive harder. I suggest starting with Liang Que. Confirming or ruling him out will clarify the next steps.”

Zhuang Qi nodded. “We’re like headless flies anyway. Let’s try this… Enough about me. What’s up with you and Gu Lingjun?”

“W-what’s up?”

Caught off guard by the topic shift, Jiang Chuxie choked.

“Haha, don’t play dumb. You’ve been taking care of Miss Gu these past few days, right?”

“Cough, I was just…” Jiang Chuxie racked her brain for an excuse, landing on a lame one. “Helping out of international humanitarian spirit.”

“Sure, sure. I won’t tease you. Gu Lingjun helped you so much—if you ignored her being sick, I’d look down on you.”

As her roommate, Zhuang Qi knew the suppressants weren’t from Gu Lingjun. Jiang Chuxie had a stash long before Gu Lingjun arrived at B University.

“Y-yeah…”

Zhuang Qi smirked slyly. “She sacrificed a lot for you. You better treat her right and not let her down.”

Jiang Chuxie didn’t know why she veered there, embarrassed. “We’re not like that.”

“Maybe not yet… but Chuxie, Gu Lingjun talked about her heat in front of two unrelated Alphas, even saying you helped her through it. Think you can still clarify your relationship?”

“Oh…”

Too touched at the time, Jiang Chuxie hadn’t thought it through. Zhuang Qi’s reminder hit her—it was bad.

“The president already assumes you’re a couple. You’ve been cooking at her place every day… and you still want to deny it?”

“How do you know?”

Jiang Chuxie realized she’d never told Zhuang Qi!

“Heh, Zhao Zi told me. She called to check on her junior, and Gu Lingjun said you helped her a lot…”

Jiang Chuxie groaned, covering her face—she’d forgotten to tell Gu Lingjun to keep it quiet.

“Can you big mouths not blab everything?”

“Gu Lingjun doesn’t care—why do you? I say it’s good. She invited you to her place. You’re not gonna make a move? Are you even an Alpha?”

Jiang Chuxie sighed. Zhuang Qi was more refined than most Alphas, but her mindset was still typically Alpha.

“It’s not like that. Gu Lingjun sees me as a friend… You could say she doesn’t see me as an Alpha. I helped her before, she’s grateful, so she helped me.”

“Huh?” Zhuang Qi stared, her face screaming, “Are you nuts?” “She told you that?”

Jiang Chuxie nodded. “And she doesn’t get jealous or…”

She recalled the welcome party night, Gu Lingjun’s calm, almost maternal composure facing her in that awkward state.

Honestly, if Gu Lingjun liked her, that reaction was too cool, too odd!

If she saw her as a best friend, it all made sense.

Her lack of hesitation letting her in, falling asleep defenselessly—proof Gu Lingjun didn’t see her as an Alpha.

Feeling hurt was odd, but realizing Gu Lingjun viewed her this way, Jiang Chuxie felt relief mixed with a tinge of disappointment.

Of course, this trivial, plot-driven emotion was negligible. Knowing Gu Lingjun’s stance let her approach her more confidently.

“Ugh, whatever, sort your own mess.” Zhuang Qi, seeing her mood dip, stopped teasing. “By the way, you said you’d do a big update for the student network. When’s it happening?”

“You finally remember? I’ll have a beta version by this weekend. If it’s quick, maybe this month.”

“Hey, I got swamped with the party! My dad called yesterday, asking about the site, and I remembered.”

The Zhuang family’s main business was computer components, recently branching into full PCs, with plans for systems and software development.

Zhuang Qi’s aunt, Zhuang Jingyuan, was the dean of the Information Technology Institute and a top software engineer. Jiang Chuxie, with her past-life coding experience, caught the dean’s eye, earning extra cash assisting her.

Just earlier, Jiang Chuxie sent the beta of her instant messaging software to Zhuang Jingyuan for feedback.

Many aspects of this world mirrored reality, like computer iteration speeds and programming methods, nearly identical to her past life.

Jiang Chuxie adopted a broad-net approach, unsure what would take off in this world but determined to develop everything that might catch fire at this stage—though, for now, each was just a basic, low-end version.

Two years ago, when she started at university, she created a B University alumni network as a homework project and experiment. Unexpectedly, it gained traction in a small circle.

That’s when Zhuang Qi and Zhuang Jingyuan found her—one to be her roommate, the other to recruit her as an assistant.

Zhuang Qi was very interested in the alumni network. Eventually, she funded it, while Jiang Chuxie handled the effort to maintain and update it. With Zhuang Qi’s relentless promotion, the site grew increasingly popular, evolving from a B University network to one for all students. The only issue… it wasn’t making money.

Of course, both Zhuang Qi and Jiang Chuxie knew the lack of profit was temporary. After assessing the site’s current scale, Jiang Chuxie planned to introduce ad slots in this update.

She’d considered premium paid features, but online payments were extremely cumbersome, so ads were the only way to generate some revenue for now.

She’d been preparing this update for a while, mainly waiting for Zhuang Qi to have time to discuss it.

“The update’s no problem on my end. The issue is whether you have time to pull in ad sponsors.”

Zhuang Qi’s eyes lit up. “We’re finally making money?”

Jiang Chuxie hadn’t put much thought into the site, mostly updating it based on user needs and feedback. But Zhuang Qi was deeply invested, burning her own money on it. Hearing it could finally profit, she nearly teared up.

“That depends on your sponsor-pulling skills.”

Computers weren’t widely adopted yet, with only 30% of households owning one. But those that did were typically affluent middle-class families with strong purchasing power.

“Do I even need to look?” Zhuang Qi said. “You think my dad called about the site because he was bored? He’s got his eye on it! You don’t know how many people approached me about acquisitions or copied our site. I shut them all down!”

Jiang Chuxie had too many projects and didn’t want a non-profitable site draining her energy, so she’d left most of it to Zhuang Qi. She only now learned of acquisition offers. Copycats? Not surprising.

“Someone wanted to buy it…”

Jiang Chuxie muttered, and Zhuang Qi, realizing she’d let it slip, looked embarrassed, her gaze darting away.

“Cough, Chuxie, I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d fall for their sweet talk. Those were small-time offers.”

Zhuang Qi, born wealthy, was willing to fund projects she believed in. But she knew Jiang Chuxie, who worked to pay tuition, wasn’t the same. An acquisition offer would be tempting.

“How much was the highest?”

“F-five hundred thousand…”

Their shares were 49:51, meaning Jiang Chuxie would get half. Though Zhuang Qi felt she’d done right, she was guilty facing Jiang Chuxie, who wasn’t as financially secure.

Seeing her roommate waste time on part-time jobs pained her. But until the site showed promise, she didn’t dare make big promises or urge Jiang Chuxie to quit working, especially not with the money-sink site.

Plus, Jiang Chuxie didn’t seem to care much about the site, just maintaining and updating it periodically. Selling might’ve been better for her.

“That’s way too low.”

“I told you… Wait, you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I hid it…”

Jiang Chuxie smiled faintly. “We agreed I’d handle maintenance and updates, and you’d manage operations. You didn’t tell me because you believe in its potential. You’re my first sponsor—I respect your vision… Besides, it’s your money, not mine.”

“But don’t you need money?”

“Uh…” As roommates and partners, Jiang Chuxie hadn’t seen Zhuang Qi as a close confidant before. Though she’d earned money with Zhuang Qi’s aunt and from stocks, she never told Zhuang Qi, who thought she was dirt-poor. “I’m not that broke. I get by.”

Perhaps because of recent events and meeting Gu Lingjun, she noticed her attitude toward others softening.

Like with Zhuang Qi… she was starting to treat her more like a friend.

“Also, their offer was below my target. With how fast computers are advancing and prices dropping, household penetration will hit over 50% in two years. That’s a huge market. Our site’s a pioneer, and as we expand our audience, its scale will grow. Selling now would be a shame.”

Seeing Jiang Chuxie’s clarity, Zhuang Qi beamed. “I knew you were sharp! Great, great—when we make our first big bucks, I’ll treat you to something delicious!”

Jiang Chuxie nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.”

After a week of rest, Gu Lingjun was mostly recovered, save for a lingering cough. Once the nanny returned, Jiang Chuxie stopped coming to cook. Counting the days, they hadn’t seen each other in a while.

Though at the same school, they were neither in the same year nor institute, making chance encounters rare and planned meetings tricky.

Gu Lingjun found excuses to call or text Jiang Chuxie, but a reason to meet… she couldn’t come up with one.

“Hey, Dad?”

Pondering how to “scheme” a meeting with Jiang Chuxie, Gu Lingjun answered her ringing phone.

“Sweetie, I heard from Sister Yue you were sick! How could you be so careless? How’s your health? Still feeling bad?”

Though Gu Lingjun had told the nanny not to tell her parents, knowing her dad’s personality, she figured it wouldn’t stay secret.

“I’m fine now, Dad. Don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry? You’re not with me, and I feel so empty. I keep thinking—what if you don’t dress warmly, get sick, or get bullied? I can’t sleep…”

“Alright, alright, stop overthinking. Let me talk to Lingjun.” Gu Lingjun heard her mother interrupt, then the phone changed hands. “Lingjun, we’re calling because of something…”

Sensing her mother’s hesitation, Gu Lingjun tensed—had her parents found out about her and Jiang Chuxie getting close?

“What is it?”

“Your birthday’s coming up, right?” Gu Lian said apologetically. “Mom and Dad can’t be there this time. Work we put off has piled up, so…”

Gu Lingjun’s birthday was November 21, the next Sunday. She usually celebrated with family, inviting school friends to their home. This year, being away, she wasn’t sure of her parents’ plans. With everything going on, she’d nearly forgotten her birthday.

“It’s okay, Mom. Work comes first. My stuff already delayed your schedule—you don’t need to feel sorry.”

“But what about your birthday?”

Gu Lingjun smiled. “I’m grown up. I can’t always have you plan my birthdays. I’ll invite friends to celebrate.”

“Then I’ll book a hotel—”

“No need for anything grand. I’ll have friends over for dinner at home.”

Gu Lian paused. “Alright, keep it cozy, no distance with friends.”

“Mm-hmm, I’ll tell Auntie.”

Mu Qing grabbed the phone back. “I’ll call you then, sweetie.”

“Okay~”

After hanging up with her parents, Gu Lingjun immediately dialed Jiang Chuxie.

The excuse she couldn’t find? Here it was.