Dressed as the Scumbag Alpha Mom of the Tragic Female Lead (ABO, GL) - Chapter 40

Chapter 40

The election speech for the Life Sciences Institute’s student council president was held on Monday. However, the so-called institute-wide student vote wasn’t conducted openly with students casting ballots into a box for tallying. Instead, it was done by class, with class monitors collecting votes and reporting to the student council.

This was exactly what disgusted Zhao Zi, as it left too much room for manipulation.

Most class monitors were Alphas, and with a bit of pressure from the dean on class advisors or counselors, the class’s voting will could easily be swayed.

Yet Dean Xu, citing that open, anonymous voting wasted time and couldn’t accurately reflect each student’s will, implemented this voting method without the full student council’s approval.

Though Zhao Zi led by a wide margin in the student network polls, the offline election situation remained grim. With no other choice, Zhao Zi settled for securing the right to monitor the vote.

After the public speech via broadcast, classes would hold meetings to vote, with the student council sending two members to each to supervise and prevent cheating.

Dean Xu, likely confident of victory, ignored the buzz on the student network and scoffed at Zhao Zi’s efforts.

Emerging from the broadcast room, Zhao Zi showed a rare trace of exhaustion. Gu Lingjun looked at her with concern, asking softly, “Senior, are you okay?”

Zhao Zi shook her head, forcing a smile. “No matter what, we’ve done our best. Even if I fail, at least I fought honorably.”

Her words sounded open-minded but carried a pessimistic undertone. Gu Lingjun knew Zhao Zi had been under immense pressure, but she hadn’t expected the usually optimistic and proactive senior to show such dejection.

“Senior, your support on the student network is so high. I believe we’ll win.”

Gu Lingjun held Zhao Zi’s hand to comfort her, only to find it ice-cold and sweaty. Even on the speech stage, facing the whole school, Zhao Zi was composed—yet now she was so nervous.

This made Gu Lingjun despise Dean Xu and his Alpha-supremacy ideology even more.

Coming from a privileged background, raised under Gu Lian’s protection, Gu Lingjun had grown tired of the peculiarities of being an Omega but hadn’t felt the weight of gender differences strongly.

But after entering university, away from her parents’ shelter, she increasingly felt society’s constraints on Omegas and Betas and the prevalence of the Alpha-supremacy mindset in daily life.

If only all Alphas were like Senior Jiang.

Tuesday and Wednesday were for class voting, with results announced on Thursday.

“How’s it going?”

Since Zhuang Qi and Jiang Chuxie weren’t from the Life Sciences Institute, to avoid suspicion, they hadn’t met Zhao Zi these past few days. After voting began, Zhao Zi’s support on the student network kept soaring, but by Tuesday, after over half the classes voted, the results were starkly different.

“Zhao Zi’s behind by over fifty votes.”

Fifty votes was about two classes’ worth—not a huge gap, but catching up wouldn’t be easy.

Despite her overwhelming lead online, more than half the classes that voted chose her opponent, proving the vote didn’t reflect the group’s will.

Whether intentional or not, the vote counts for Zhao Zi and her opponent were always close, with the opponent edging out by one to three votes per class.

What was frustrating wasn’t just the fifty-vote gap but that, so far, Zhao Zi hadn’t won a single class.

“That dean’s gone too far! A respected professor stooping to sabotage his own student, rigging the results so blatantly—doesn’t the school care?” Zhuang Qi slammed the wall in anger.

Jiang Chuxie looked troubled too. She’d rejected the “opposition’s” offer—were they sitting this one out? Or were they unable to defy the dean?

“Chuxie, I should contact Chen Yue and ask him to help Zhao Zi pull some votes.”

Chen Yue was impeccable in both reputation and ability. If an Alpha like him backed Zhao Zi, it might sway some votes.

But…

“I think even if Zhao Zi wins that way, she won’t be happy.”

“Happy or not, what’s the difference? That trash dean’s personally meddling. What’s wrong with us asking Chen Yue for a favor? Win first, then talk!”

Pulling in every possible ally, including Alphas, made sense. They weren’t fighting a gender but gender-based discrimination.

If Jiang Chuxie were running, she might not reject the idea. But this wasn’t her campaign, and she wasn’t an Omega. As a woman in her past life, she’d faced some discrimination, but comparing that to an Omega’s status wasn’t fair.

She’d never been an Omega, so she couldn’t fully understand their feelings.

“I think we should ask Zhao Zi’s opinion. Win or lose, she’s the one who’ll face the outcome.”

Zhuang Qi perked up and grabbed her phone to call Zhao Zi. “I’ll ask her now.”

Jiang Chuxie sighed, her hand in her pocket brushing her phone.

Gu Lingjun had been with Zhao Zi these past few days, and their contact had been less frequent. Jiang Chuxie was still hung up on her odd behavior that day, feeling uneasy about facing Gu Lingjun. Yet, not seeing her for days made her miss her a bit.

“…Stubborn! So stubborn! Zhao Zi, I didn’t expect you to be so rigid! What’s wrong with Chen Yue helping? He already admires you, and with my relationship with him, what’s the harm in asking for a word?” Zhuang Qi’s voice suddenly rose, shouting into the phone. “…Alpha? Stop vilifying all Alphas, okay? I’m an Alpha, Chuxie’s an Alpha—aren’t we helping you?”

They were clearly arguing. Jiang Chuxie glanced at Zhuang Qi, seeing her rare look of frustration.

“…Fine, fine, I’m done with you! Zhao Zi, you’re heartless. I misjudged you, pouring my heart out to help you!”

Jiang Chuxie shook her head with a wry smile as Zhuang Qi’s words grew harsher, threatening to cut ties.

As she’d predicted, Zhao Zi rejected Zhuang Qi’s suggestion.

“Pfft, Zhao Zi, go cry then!”

Zhuang Qi slammed the phone down, red-faced and panting, silent for a long while.

Jiang Chuxie watched, waiting for her to calm down.

“What’s Zhao Zi thinking?” Zhuang Qi, still fuming, turned to Jiang Chuxie. “Is it that bad to let Chen Yue help? We’re helping her too! Sure, there are plenty of jerk Alphas, but there are good ones like us. Chen Yue values ability—he’s praised Zhao Zi to me tons of times. What’s her problem?”

Jiang Chuxie’s smile was mild, her tone slow. “Zhuang Qi, why do you think Zhao Zi refused Chen Yue’s help?”

“Why else? She wants to prove Omegas are capable, that they’re not lesser than Alphas and don’t need their help!”

“Then why didn’t she refuse our help?”

Zhuang Qi froze, her agitation cooling under Jiang Chuxie’s calm demeanor.

“…Maybe because our help is private, but Chen Yue’s would be public. Hmph, hypocritical!”

Jiang Chuxie shook her head. “I don’t think so. Zhao Zi didn’t refuse our help because she sees us as friends. As for Chen Yue… it’s normal for her to have doubts.”

“He’s my friend. I can vouch he’d help Zhao Zi willingly.”

Jiang Chuxie didn’t doubt that. From the last incident, she knew Chen Yue well enough. Though they had ideological differences, he was generally fair in work.

But his frequent praise of Zhao Zi, to Jiang Chuxie, seemed like a subtle dismissal of Omegas. Would he praise an Alpha’s abilities so repeatedly?

“He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also the university student council president. You haven’t forgotten, right? The university and institute councils aren’t always aligned—conflicts of interest are common. If Chen Yue helps Zhao Zi now, what happens if there’s a conflict later? What would Zhao Zi do?”

“Oh…”

“Don’t say work and personal feelings can be separated. If Chen Yue backs Zhao Zi, even if she wants to keep them apart, can others? How would the Life Sciences Institute council view her? What would be the point of her being president?”

Zhuang Qi wasn’t dumb—she’d been too caught up in Zhao Zi’s urgency to think it through. Jiang Chuxie’s analysis made her see the issue, her anger turning to embarrassment and guilt, her voice softening.

“Why didn’t you say this earlier? You let me call Zhao Zi…”

“I didn’t know what Zhao Zi was thinking. Maybe she wouldn’t mind? I didn’t expect you to lose your temper and call her heartless.”

“Ah, I’m done for!” Zhuang Qi’s face fell even more at the reminder. “What do I do? I was so harsh. Zhao Zi’s already stressed, and now I’ve made it worse.”

“Apologize later.”

Zhuang Qi looked nervous. “Will an apology work? If Zhao Zi wins, it’s fine, but if she loses… how will I face her?”

“Worrying about that now won’t help…”

Jiang Chuxie looked helpless. Zhuang Qi suddenly leaned closer, saying, “Ask Gu Lingjun how Zhao Zi’s doing so I can prepare myself.”

Jiang Chuxie gave her a side-eye.

“Please, good sister, help me out! I’ve always treated you well. This is life or death—don’t leave me hanging!”

Jiang Chuxie, unable to resist her pleading, took out her phone.

“You better apologize properly.”

“I know, I know! I’ll apologize to her and thank you both.”

Seeing her sincerity, Jiang Chuxie thought for a moment and texted Gu Lingjun.

Gu Lingjun, noticing Zhao Zi’s low spirits and fearing she’d overthink, stayed with her after council business, even back at the dorm.

But just earlier, after a call with Zhuang Qi, something had set Zhao Zi off. Her earlier gloom vanished, replaced by gritted-teeth anger as she cursed Zhuang Qi.

“Heartless? Zhuang Qi, that pig brain—if she thought even a little, she wouldn’t suggest Chen Yue help me!”

From Zhao Zi’s complaints, Gu Lingjun pieced together what happened and couldn’t help but smile. “Senior Zhuang Qi really cares about you.”

“Cares about me? Pfft! You know how she insulted me? I wanted to curse her back, but she dared hang up! Next time I see her, I’ll strangle her!”

“It’s great to see you back in spirits, Senior.”

Though the argument had infuriated her, Zhao Zi was already thinking about seeing Zhuang Qi again. Their bond made Gu Lingjun a bit envious.

Her connection with Jiang Chuxie was still too new and brief. After Sunday, they’d only kept in touch via a few texts. Thinking of Jiang Chuxie’s reaction, she felt a bit uneasy.

Her impulsive confrontation with her mother that night was likely influenced by this.

“This isn’t me getting my spirits back—it’s high bl00d pressure from anger. That idiot Zhuang Qi, comparing Chen Yue to herself. Does she even get why I didn’t refuse her help? She loves comparing—why not compare herself to Dean Xu? See who’s the bigger fool!”

“Senior…”

Gu Lingjun held back a laugh, listening as Zhao Zi let loose, cursing Zhuang Qi without restraint.

“Alright, Lingjun, don’t worry about me. I haven’t lost yet. I’ll show Zhuang Qi—even without Chen Yue’s support, I can still become president!”

Her fighting spirit was back, and Gu Lingjun felt relieved. Just then, her phone buzzed with a new text.

Gu Lingjun checked it and saw it was from Jiang Chuxie. Reading the message, she instinctively glanced at Zhao Zi.

Zhao Zi thought she had something to do. “If you’re busy, go ahead.”

“It’s Senior Jiang. She said Senior Zhuang asked her to check on… how you’re doing.”

Zhao Zi raised an eyebrow, a smug smirk on her lips, though she said, “Looks like Zhuang Qi’s not that dumb. She realized her mistake pretty quick.”

Gu Lingjun pursed her lips, stifling a smile. “How should I reply?”

“Tell her I’m about to explode! Once I’m Life Sciences Institute president, I’ll tear Zhuang Qi to shreds!”

The student council president role might not be crucial to Zhao Zi’s future, but its importance wasn’t the point. It wasn’t about power-hunger either. This was her—and the Omegas and discriminated Betas she represented—challenging unshakeable authority in a small arena.

“Gu Lingjun replied. She said, ‘Senior Zhao Zi’s furious and says next time she sees Senior Zhuang, she’ll tear her to shreds.’”

Jiang Chuxie read the text verbatim. Zhuang Qi looked like she might cry, but Jiang Chuxie said, “Weird, why does it sound a bit like flirting?”

“Don’t rub it in.”

Jiang Chuxie shook her head with a smile, turning to her computer, her slender fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Zhao Zi hasn’t given up, and I think we still have a chance.”

“What are you doing?”

“At Gu Lingjun’s birthday party, I met someone…” Jiang Chuxie recounted her encounter with Yuan Ning. “These past few days, I’ve been tracking their presence on the student network.”

“The opposition? Did you find them? What’s your plan? Ban their community?”

“I found a few likely spots, but as long as their speech doesn’t break the law, I won’t ban them.”

“So you’re just letting them grow?”

Zhuang Qi frowned, seeming disapproving.

“You dislike them?”

“I’m not sure,” Zhuang Qi said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m just… allergic to that kind of strong group mentality?”

“How so?”

“Organizations, whether companies or school groups, are built on rules. The basic logic is you get rewards for your efforts—salary, resume boosts, tangible stuff. But these opposition folks are united by a belief. That’s scary, isn’t it?”

Zhuang Qi’s view was rational. Indeed, groups driven by strong beliefs, the larger they grow, the more likely they are to stir up trouble.

Those fighting for ideals are the most fearless.

“But without that belief, it’s even scarier for some.”

Zhuang Qi’s words, as an Alpha, carried a hint of privilege.

“Zhuang Qi, we’re not Omegas or Betas. Even if we see their inequality, we can’t truly feel it. I share your concerns, but I don’t want to dismiss their efforts entirely. So far, they haven’t done anything extreme and are voicing their demands legally.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“No plan. I’m just an observer.”

Zhuang Qi’s eyes lit up. “I get it—you’re monitoring them!”

Jiang Chuxie laughed. “It’s not as dramatic as you make it sound. I’m just… taking precautions. At least on our turf, we can’t let them run wild.”

“Hmph, there you go again, Chuxie,” Zhuang Qi said with a knowing look. “You’re actually pretty sneaky.”

Jiang Chuxie’s face darkened—calling her cunning was better than bad, but “cunning” wasn’t a thing in this world yet.

“Let’s drop that. I checked some community topics and think they’ll make a move soon. Zhao Zi’s only behind by fifty-some votes—there’s still a good chance to turn it around.”

Zhuang Qi’s eyes brightened. “Should we tell Zhao Zi?”

“No. First, it’s just my guess. Second… why did I refuse to work with them? Voting for Zhao Zi already serves their interests. Why let Zhao Zi know? That favor’s too easy to claim.”

“Right, right, those guys are too sly.”

“And I believe Zhao Zi will take action next. Let’s trust her.”

During Wednesday’s lunch break, Zhao Zi’s voice suddenly came over the school radio. Unlike her steady first speech, this one was passionate in both content and tone.

“A mid-vote debate? What’s that about?”

“It’s not just Zhao Zi—both sides can keep campaigning.”

“What’s the other guy’s name? I forgot.”

“And his voice is so quiet. What’s he saying? Can’t hear a thing.”

This surprise mid-vote debate was Zhao Zi’s last-minute addition through the radio club’s head. Her Alpha opponent strongly objected, but Zhao Zi ignored him. He could speak or not—she was going to. Worst case, the debate would become a speech. She was all in.

The Alpha thought he had it in the bag, unprepared for this. He was only a candidate because of the dean’s backing, far less capable than Zhao Zi. Rushed into the debate, his performance was a mess, showing no clear ideas.

Asked about student council work, he was clueless. About his goal as president, he mumbled vaguely. About his strengths, he ended with: “Because I’m an Alpha.”

The contrast was stark. The debate wasn’t even a contest—the Alpha was outmatched from the start, lacking Zhao Zi’s conviction.

“Zhao Zi spoke well. If I were in Life Sciences, I’d vote for her.”

“She’s been doing all the work. Why elect a new president now?”

“Just because she’s an Omega?”

“Isn’t that unfair?”

The debate quickly became a campus topic. Many Betas and Omegas expressed admiration for Zhao Zi. Of course, discussions had ups and downs, including some harsh comments.

“This Zhao Zi, as an Omega, isn’t she too power-hungry?”

“I heard she’s already losing by a lot. She’s desperate, huh?”

“Typical Omega—petty. It’s just an institute president.”

The cafeteria, dorms, and classrooms buzzed with talk. These discordant voices sometimes sparked arguments.

“What, an Omega wanting to be president is power-hungry? Why not call out Alphas hogging key roles for years? If you’re not power-hungry, give up those spots!”

“Exactly! Petty? Just an institute president? How many Omegas or Betas are presidents in this school? Stop talking like it’s no big deal!”

The challenged Alphas fought back.

“Alphas hold key roles because we’re capable. If you’re so great, run yourselves!”

“Idiot, who was that Alpha stammering on the radio? Capable, huh?”

“If you say presidents are chosen for ability, not because they’re Alphas, then voting for the more capable Zhao Zi is right!”

“Ignore them. They say Omegas wanting to be president are power-hungry, then tell us to run. Like that radio fool, they’re incoherent, no logic!”

Alphas had individual advantages but were outnumbered. A few, surrounded and verbally outgunned, soon lost and resorted to threats.

“Whatever, Alphas will win in the end. The votes prove it!”

That ignited more anger.

“Get lost!”

“Because of you, I’m definitely supporting Zhao Zi!”

The debate’s impact lasted into the evening, with similar arguments popping up across campus.

Zhao Zi even recorded the debate, planning to post it on the student network, and advertised it on the radio, inviting everyone to her page.

Jiang Chuxie, who heard the broadcast, admired Zhao Zi greatly. For intel, she ate lunch in the dorm and only learned that evening how much chaos the debate had caused.

“Chuxie, any results yet?”

Though results were announced Thursday, all classes would finish voting that afternoon. Zhuang Qi was restless, hoping for good news but fearing disappointment.

Luckily, she was too distracted to notice passersby’s disdainful looks at Alphas—both she and Jiang Chuxie, as Alphas, got caught in the crossfire.

“Relax, we’ll know soon. Let’s head to the activity building to wait for them.”

“What if Zhao Zi loses? How do I comfort her? She worked so hard!”

Jiang Chuxie chuckled. “Just give her a hug.”

“Will she hit me?”

“Then let her hit you.”

Jiang Chuxie had never seen Zhuang Qi like this—her uncertain feelings might now be clear.

At the activity building, they found the Life Sciences Institute council meeting had ended. People were leaving, but their expressions gave no clues about the outcome.

Zhuang Qi seemed too scared to ask, waiting with Jiang Chuxie, but Zhao Zi and Gu Lingjun didn’t appear.

“Should we go up?”

Recalling Gu Lingjun’s past encounter, Jiang Chuxie nodded gravely.

Zhuang Qi hurriedly pulled her to the third floor, where the hallway was quiet and empty.

Light from the meeting room spilled into the corridor, adding a touch of brightness to the darkening evening.

Zhuang Qi rushed to the meeting room door and saw Zhao Zi sitting at the table’s end, head down, with Gu Lingjun beside her, seemingly comforting her.

“Zhao Zi!”

Zhuang Qi called out dazedly. Zhao Zi and Gu Lingjun looked up, Zhao Zi’s eyes shimmering with tears, traces of them on her cheeks.

Thinking she’d lost, Zhuang Qi’s mind went blank. She rushed to Zhao Zi’s side and hugged her.

Zhao Zi froze, and so did Gu Lingjun.

Zhuang Qi’s voice broke. “It’s okay if you lost. Don’t cry—they just don’t appreciate you.”

Zhao Zi’s tears, which had stopped, fell again. She raised a hand to pound Zhuang Qi’s back.

“You idiot, you’re the only one who appreciates me?”

Gu Lingjun smiled and tactfully left the room. As she stepped out, she met Jiang Chuxie at the door.

“Senior.”

Jiang Chuxie nodded. “Congrats to Zhao Zi.”

Gu Lingjun gave a sweet smile. “Senior, this is the result of everyone’s hard work.”

Zhao Zi had successfully been elected Life Sciences Institute student council president.