Dressed as the Scumbag Alpha Mom of the Tragic Female Lead (ABO, GL) - Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Before they knew it, half of winter break had passed. Jiang Chuxie and Gu Lingjun had been dating for over a month and living together for about half that time. Aside from sleeping in separate rooms, their days felt like those of an old married couple.

Jiang Chuxie was busy with work. Except for meeting basic needs, she spent nearly every day at her workstation. The rented apartment had no study, so she set up a desk in a corner of the living room—a desktop computer, a laptop—and when she got going, she’d stay put for hours.

Gu Lingjun never disturbed her work, either reading or borrowing Jiang Chuxie’s laptop to research. When Jiang Chuxie was tired, Gu Lingjun would bring her hot cocoa and offer a massage.

“Ah~”

Jiang Chuxie stood, stretching widely, then started her radio calisthenics routine. In her past life, her weak body and brutal overtime had done her in. This time, she was determined to take care of herself. The startup grind was unavoidable, but she could spare a few minutes to move.

Seeing her take a break, Gu Lingjun set down her book and joined her. It was winter break, and with no outdoor activities, they exercised indoors.

“After calisthenics, do some eye exercises. Health is the foundation of everything. You read and go online daily—protect your eyes.”

“Okay~” To others, their relationship might seem plain, but Gu Lingjun felt an unprecedented sense of ease and sweetness. “Chuxie, you know so much. I’ve never seen these exercises.”

“Uh, I read about them in a book.”

Whether it was this world or this country, student health seemed overlooked, or maybe it wasn’t significant in an ABO world. Schools didn’t teach these exercises.

“You read such a wide range. Even the tough books related to my major—you’ve read so many and recommended ones that really helped me.”

Before leaving campus, they’d borrowed a stack of books from the library, even using Zhuang Qi’s card. Gu Lingjun was sharp, reading and grasping books quickly, sometimes finishing one in a day. With a month-long break, they needed plenty.

“There’s not much else for entertainment. Reading’s always good.”

When Jiang Chuxie first arrived in this world, she nearly starved. For years, she fought to eat and study. Once life stabilized, she realized this world lacked the entertainment of her past life. Having books was a blessing.

She never imagined, reborn, she’d dive back into books, swimming in knowledge. People really rise to the challenge.

After calisthenics, Gu Lingjun pulled Jiang Chuxie to the sofa for her usual massage. Jiang Chuxie initially resisted, worried Gu Lingjun would tire, but soon saw it as a sweet way to connect and accepted it.

Gu Lingjun’s touch was light, her palms soft. It was less a massage and more… a caress. It didn’t truly relax muscles, but the tingling comfort was undeniable. Jiang Chuxie didn’t mind—in fact, she loved this closeness.

“What book are you reading today?”

Blushing at her thoughts, Jiang Chuxie shifted focus, spotting the book Gu Lingjun had been reading on the coffee table and picking it up.

“Statistical Analysis of Western Deity Functions?”

“Yeah, a leisure read. I wanted to relax today.”

Jiang Chuxie recalled Gu Lingjun returning similar books to the library last time and asked, “Are you that interested in Western mythology?”

“Hm… Interested, or trying to solve some puzzles?”

“What puzzles?” Curious about Gu Lingjun’s odd, poetic praises before, Jiang Chuxie asked, “Can I take a look?”

“Of course,” Gu Lingjun seemed pleased by her interest. “It’s kind of contradictory—I study biomedical science but love mythology books. I’ve learned a lot about Eastern mythology and now want to see if Western mythology shares certain traits.”

“Which traits?”

Jiang Chuxie flipped to a page titled “Erato.”

Erato, the Muse of love poetry and music, had a voice like an oriole or nightingale, often singing her love poems at dawn or under the moon.

The moment she read this, Jiang Chuxie’s hairs stood on end. She was certain those past praises of Gu Lingjun weren’t her own because she knew almost nothing about the mythological figures referenced.

Names like Theia, goddess of light, Eos, goddess of dawn, or Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, were hard enough to remember, let alone their elaborate descriptions.

Now, seeing phrases eerily similar to those praises in a book Gu Lingjun was reading, she felt a chill.

Unaware of Jiang Chuxie’s reaction, Gu Lingjun continued, “I’m curious when humanity’s secondary gender system evolved. Among mammals, only humans have it. Mythological gods lack secondary genders. Don’t you find that odd, Senior? Much of today’s social order is built on secondary genders, yet terms like ‘mister,’ ‘miss,’ ‘husband,’ or ‘wife’ are based on primary gender. Only a few languages prioritize secondary gender pronouns. Humans developed language about 300,000 years ago. Was primary gender more influential than secondary gender when language formed, or did secondary genders evolve much later?”

Or, were secondary genders truly a product of evolution?

“So… you’re looking for clues in mythology?”

“Yeah. Historians, archaeologists, and biologists debate this heavily, so I thought I’d try a different angle. Many myths might reflect early human history, after all.”

Jiang Chuxie felt a creeping dread at Gu Lingjun’s words. As a transmigrator, she could chalk up inconsistencies to the author’s design. But if a world’s logic was so flawed that natives noticed, wasn’t that a failure?

Or perhaps it wasn’t flawed—just beyond the current society’s ability to investigate or explain.

“Lingjun, you’re… too good at thinking.”

Gu Lingjun’s ideas dispelled Jiang Chuxie’s unease. Thinking about it, if her praises of Gu Lingjun were forced by this “world’s will,” using existing material made sense.

Gu Lingjun, being so inquisitive, got curious and borrowed the book, which Jiang Chuxie now saw.

Gu Lingjun glanced at her with a smile. “Are you really praising me, or saying I overthink?”

“I’m genuinely praising you,” Jiang Chuxie set the book down, taking her hand eagerly. “No one’s ever discussed this with me. I’m intrigued. Imagine a world where humans, like most mammals, have only primary genders—males and females with one reproductive system, no marking, no glands, no pheromones, no heat. What do you think?”

Gu Lingjun’s eyes widened as Jiang Chuxie dismantled the foundations of their society.

“Chuxie… you’re the one thinking too much! That kind of world…” She frowned, pondering. “It might actually be nice. But if both have one reproductive system, who bears children—men or women?”

“Women.”

“Without heat, how do they know ovulation? A big reason Betas struggle to conceive is no heat, plus long, short, irregular ovulation cycles, making preparation hard. If women are like Betas, how do they ensure species survival?”

“Though there’s no heat, women ovulate monthly. Stable human societies don’t need to base reproduction on food availability like animals, so from a procreation standpoint, heat isn’t necessary, right?”

Gu Lingjun nodded slowly. “True. If reproduction is year-round, heat is pretty redundant.”

More like, it exists purely for spice.

Jiang Chuxie silently griped. Loving spice was human nature, not inherently wrong, but paired with marking, it was tough to live with—better left to novels.

“What about gender ratios and physical traits?”

“Gender ratio’s nearly 1:1. Physically, think Betas and Omegas—men similar to Betas, women slightly sturdier than Omegas.”

Physically, Alphas far outstripped Betas and Omegas, a reason their small numbers still dominated upper echelons throughout history.

Gu Lingjun chuckled. “Such detailed settings. You came up with all that so fast?”

“Uh… just a sudden idea.”

Because that was her past life’s world!

Before confirming her feelings for Gu Lingjun, Jiang Chuxie never considered telling anyone about her transmigration. But love was a surrender of the heart. She began to dream of one day sharing her past with her beloved.

Whether as a fantasy, a hypothetical, or something else, she hoped to one day let Gu Lingjun know such a world existed and that it shaped her.

“Fascinating idea. That world might be much fairer.”

“Well, it still has gender discrimination…”

“I get it. From your setup, women are at a disadvantage, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an unavoidable issue in any system, but it’s easier to address than marking. I think the core issue isn’t secondary genders but the marking dynamic between Alphas and Omegas, plus Beta reproduction problems.”

Jiang Chuxie nodded. “Exactly. Solving those won’t fix everything, but they’re the biggest hurdles.”

Without them, six genders might be more equal and diverse than two.

“One last question.” Gu Lingjun looked into Jiang Chuxie’s eyes, a slight smile forming. “In your imagined world, can same-s3x couples be together?”

“Uh… in some countries, yes; in others, no… that’s the setup.”

“So, like this world’s double-Alphas or double-Omegas, they’re marginalized for not reproducing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s more realistic…”

Gu Lingjun slid her arms around Jiang Chuxie’s shoulders, leaning close. “Senior, your hypothesis is fascinating, and I like many parts, but this one makes me think our world’s better.”

Since primary gender is set at birth, Gu Lingjun assumed they’d both be women in that world.

In her past life, Jiang Chuxie was indeed female, and even now, she felt her mindset leaned more toward a simple woman than an Alpha.

“Then… in that world, if we’re both women, would you still like me?”

Jiang Chuxie was nervous. The question was purely hypothetical, but she wanted to know.

“Put another way, if you were an Omega, would I still like you?” Gu Lingjun tilted her head, thinking. “It’s hard to imagine you as an Omega, but if that day at the café happened, I’d definitely still fall for you.”

To Gu Lingjun, Jiang Chuxie wasn’t quite an Alpha or an Omega—just Jiang Chuxie, a unique, precious presence. As an Alpha, she saved and affirmed her, sparking her awakening. If an Omega Jiang Chuxie had stepped in, the impact might’ve been even greater.

“Lingjun…”

Even as a hypothetical, Gu Lingjun’s answer thrilled Jiang Chuxie. Deep down, since falling for her, she’d worried—did Gu Lingjun truly like her?

For the first time, overcome with emotion, she leaned down and gently kissed Gu Lingjun’s lips.

It was her first time loving someone, and by her standards, a woman. Her doubts about herself, this world, and the original plot had made her resist this, but now she embraced it.

In neither life did Jiang Chuxie see herself as romantic. But this once, she wanted to believe in the fairy tale that love conquers all.

Gu Lingjun wrapped her arms around Jiang Chuxie’s neck, fully accepting the sudden kiss.

Passionate yet tender, cherishing yet clumsy, Gu Lingjun felt joy and an ache in her eyes at being treated this way by Jiang Chuxie.

She’d hoped for and believed in this moment, but that didn’t mean Jiang Chuxie’s past coldness and rejection hadn’t hurt.

Loving Jiang Chuxie and wanting her feelings returned was a purely selfish desire. She wouldn’t justify her actions in the process; in terms of intent, she wasn’t much nobler than Yu Wen.

But she knew missing Jiang Chuxie would mean never loving again. Exaggeration aside, the moment her body aligned with her mind, she felt reborn.

After such a profound feeling, what else could move her?

“Lingjun.”

Jiang Chuxie held her tightly, as if to meld her into herself.

Love…

Her heart and mind overflowed with joy. Just brushing lips made her feel like melting.

From hand-holding to hugging to kissing, it took so long, yet Gu Lingjun waited with endless gentleness, never voicing her own grievances.

“Sorry…”

Noticing Gu Lingjun’s tears, Jiang Chuxie wiped one with her thumb and kissed away the other.

Gu Lingjun sniffled, her voice trembling. “You don’t need to apologize for anything…”

Jiang Chuxie gently smoothed her hair. “Then let me say I love you, Lingjun. For making you wait so long, I’m… no, thank you for waiting for me.”

Long wasn’t quite right—they’d only known each other six months. But love, perhaps, wasn’t measured by time.

Jiang Chuxie felt she’d known Gu Lingjun forever. From transmigrating as the story’s scummy Alpha, she was tied to her. She feared meeting her yet couldn’t help wondering what the real Gu Lingjun was like.

“Then I’ll thank you too—for returning my feelings, Chuxie. Thank you for loving me, for being in my life.”

Embracing and kissing, they poured out their buried love without reserve.

“Lingjun, there’s something I need to tell you.”

In the warmth, Jiang Chuxie resolved to tell Gu Lingjun about the Lianping Association. They might be quiet now, but future conflicts were likely.

With Gu Lingjun by her side, she could become a target. Telling her sooner was better.

“What is it?” Gu Lingjun noticed Jiang Chuxie’s shift from passion to solemnity. “Something bad?”

Jiang Chuxie nodded, explaining the resort incident, the Lianping Association, and Yuan Ning’s involvement.

“Such an organization exists?” Gu Lingjun was shocked. “It’s tragic and ironic—an group meant to fight for Omega and Beta rights uses Omegas as bait to trap Alphas.”

“I’ve got a temporary truce with them, but they’re likely scheming behind my back. After my warning, they left Xueyou Network. I estimate they made up about a tenth of its users.”

“So many? No wonder you added all those security bars, doors, and cameras.”

Gu Lingjun grasped the gravity. Such a large group opposing Jiang Chuxie, whatever their motives, was bad news.

Despite their noble banner, the resort incident showed some were willing to use any means—radical minds pushing reform, but whether it’d improve or worsen was anyone’s guess.

“What’s your plan now?”

“I have some dirt on them, so they’ll likely stay quiet for now. But their growth won’t stop, and my leverage will lose value. Besides staying vigilant, I can only hope the company grows fast. Strength is the best defense.”

Gu Lingjun sighed. “If my mom weren’t so stubborn, I could help you.”

Indeed, Gu family funding could help her company seize the market faster. Her edge was superior tech and first-mover advantage, but that would fade. Without a significant lead in a few years, the outlook was grim.

“It’s okay. Money’s not an issue for now, but I’ll be swamped with the startup and might neglect you…”

Gu Lingjun chuckled confidently. “Chuxie, I’m not an Omega who needs constant Alpha attention. I have my own things to do. Don’t worry—soon, it might be me too busy for you.”

Jiang Chuxie was thrilled by her words. Though Omegas and Betas still lagged behind Alphas, and groups like the Lianping Association seemed lost, she believed with Omegas like Gu Lingjun, Zhao Zi, and Liu Wen, and awakening Betas, the world would improve.

She didn’t want her, Gu Lingjun, or Jiang Weizao’s fates to follow the original plot, but she hoped the story’s ending—where Omegas and Betas gained more rights—could happen… no, come sooner, with greater equality for ABO genders.

“So, we can’t have kids for a few years.”

Saying sterilization or not wanting kids was too absolute. Jiang Chuxie decided to discuss delaying it with Gu Lingjun, deciding later. Maybe by then, things would be so good she could let go of her worries.

Gu Lingjun gave her a teasing look, chuckling. “Didn’t expect you to think that far ahead. That time, you were quick to remind me to take the pill too.”

They rarely talked about that incident—Jiang Chuxie was a victim of a scheme, so awkwardness was natural.

But having opened their hearts this time, Gu Lingjun brought it up naturally, and Jiang Chuxie, aside from slight embarrassment, felt no strong aversion.

“I think it’s best for both of us…”

Gu Lingjun leaned on her shoulder, her breath tickling her ear. “So that’s why you’re so strict about separate rooms?”