Failed to Pretend to Be an Alpha and Got Marked by the Enemy (ABO, GL) - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Ming Zhu: “Actually… I don’t dislike you.”

Her words stunned Xiao Yihuan.

Yu Jing was even more shocked!!!

Xiao Yihuan’s eyes sparked with gossip, darting between the two of them. A barrage of thoughts flashed through her mind: Oh my gosh, they’re really a thing! Acting like they can’t stand each other on the surface, but secretly hooking up! Netizens have such sharp eyes! I suddenly want to ship them!

Yu Jing thought her ears must’ve been clogged with water from the games. She instinctively dug at her ear, staring at Ming Zhu in disbelief. “What did you say?”

Ming Zhu realized she might’ve said something she shouldn’t have. Her expression shifted slightly, her gaze moving from Yu Jing’s lips to elsewhere. After a brief pause, she looked back, her face reverting to its usual coldness, as if her slip never happened. “Nothing.”

Yu Jing: “???” Am I hallucinating or just deaf?

“You said you find Jingjing very pleasing, I heard it!” Xiao Yihuan said excitedly, clutching her phone.

Ming Zhu glanced at Xiao Yihuan, speechless at her wild interpretation for a few seconds. Her gaze drifted back to Yu Jing, who was full of question marks, her expression slightly unnatural. She composed herself and said coolly, “Don’t misunderstand. I mean… I have no good feelings toward you. I indeed can’t stand some of your behaviors.”

Xiao Yihuan’s smile froze. The two statements completely contradicted each other—which one should she believe?

Confused, Xiao Yihuan looked at Yu Jing.

Yu Jing, eagerly awaiting a reasonable explanation, felt the light in her eyes extinguish with a poof as Ming Zhu finished. Her lips twitched.

This woman flips her attitude way too fast, doesn’t she?

And her words were blunt and harsh.

Though Yu Jing had dragged Xiao Yihuan over to prove she and Ming Zhu weren’t involved, and she knew Ming Zhu had always been unfriendly, hearing it confirmed still stung.

Her face burned, as if she’d been invisibly slapped. And she’d practically offered her face for the hit—how stupid and embarrassing.

She was now certain she and Ming Zhu were fundamentally incompatible. Why else would every encounter with her end in social disaster?

Not in the mood to analyze the flaws in Ming Zhu’s words, unwilling to be humiliated again, Yu Jing quickly turned away, grabbed Xiao Yihuan’s hand, and said, “Let’s go shower.”

Caught in the middle, Xiao Yihuan felt awkward. Her budding desire to ship the CP was snuffed out by their tense vibe. She didn’t dare say or ask anything, obediently murmuring “Oh,” forgetting the Alpha-Omega distinction, and let Yu Jing pull her toward the communal bathroom.

The bathroom was divided by the six genders. At the door marked for female Alphas, Yu Jing hesitated.

Having differentiated into an Omega, entering the Alpha bathroom felt wrong. But going to the Omega one might get her kicked out as a creep.

After much internal debate, unsure whether to enter, she saw a cleaning auntie come out and quickly stopped her. “Excuse me, is anyone inside?”

The auntie, unused to seeing such a pretty girl, looked her up and down before saying, “No one’s in there.”

Yu Jing’s heart lifted. She thanked her and walked in with her bag.

Inside, she realized her worry was unnecessary—the bathroom had private stalls, so no one would see her.

She entered a stall, locked the door carefully, and took a refreshing shower.

After drying off, she didn’t rush to dress. Instead, she pulled out a colorless, odorless Omega-specific suppressant spray from her bag and meticulously coated her entire body.

Done, she sniffed her pleasantly scented body.

Aside from the shower gel’s fragrance, there wasn’t a trace of pheromones. Perfect.

She’d sweated all day during the games, yet no pheromones had leaked, thanks to this suppressant. Looking at the dense text on the bottle, her thoughts drifted to Ming Zhu, recalling the moment they fell into the pit and Ming Zhu’s pheromones leaked.

If Ming Zhu’s pheromones hadn’t slipped out, Yu Jing wouldn’t have been drawn in like she was possessed, wouldn’t have accidentally kissed her, and that mortifying scene wouldn’t have happened…

Did that annoying woman even use a suppressant? Why did her pheromones keep leaking? Last time because of drinking, this time from intense exercise.

If she weren’t worried about exposing her differentiation, Yu Jing would’ve recommended this suppressant brand to her.

After changing, Yu Jing left the stall.

Xiao Yihuan finished showering around the same time, and they walked out together.

As dusk fell, the amusement park’s streetlights glowed, and staff bustled to pack up equipment. They ran into Xiao Ya coming their way.

Xiao Ya said the crew had ordered a lavish dinner and would take them there directly.

Since filming was over, the artists didn’t need to stick together for appearances. Yu Jing parted with Xiao Yihuan temporarily and went to find Shen Jiayu and Xiao Ye.

The crew arranged a car for the three of them. Once inside, Shen Jiayu glanced at the driver and lowered her voice. “You and Ming Zhu are trending again.”

Yu Jing’s fingers toyed with her damp hair tips, feigning calm. “I saw.”

“It’s a misunderstanding, right?” Though phrased as a question, Shen Jiayu’s gaze was certain.

Yu Jing’s eyes wavered, and she gave a soft “Mm.”

Shen Jiayu, with an “I knew it” look, sighed. “Nothing good ever happens when you’re with her.”

Yu Jing hadn’t expected this either. She pursed her lips. “I’ll post on Weibo to clear it up.”

She asked Xiao Ye in the front seat for her phone, starting to type, but Shen Jiayu stopped her. “No need.”

Yu Jing looked puzzled.

“You and Ming Zhu have nothing going on—why clarify?” Shen Jiayu said. “That audio and video aren’t solid proof. Netizens aren’t fools; most are just joking for fun, not really believing it. Plus, Ming Zhu doesn’t have a Weibo, but she has plenty of loyal and casual fans. If we respond, they’ll accuse you of riding her popularity.”

Yu Jing’s heated mind cooled down.

In the messy entertainment industry, “the innocent need not explain” didn’t work—haters and trolls always found fault. The best way to handle baseless rumors was to ignore them.

“You gained 200,000 followers from this live stream, more than Chen Chen and the others. The audience loves you,” Shen Jiayu whispered. “So we can’t mess up now. If anyone clarifies, let Ming Zhu’s side do it. We stay put.”

Ming Zhu had no Weibo, but her agent did. Given Ming Zhu’s aloof nature, Yu Jing doubted she’d bother clarifying.

She put her phone down, thinking.

“By the way,” Shen Jiayu changed the subject, “tomorrow Dan Ni’s coming to record ‘Happy Star’ to promote her new drama. I’ll go with her to the TV station. Are you heading back with Xiao Ye, or waiting for us?”

Wu Dan Ni was Yu Jing’s former KISS group leader. After the group disbanded, the other two members returned to school, while Yu Jing and Wu Dan Ni went solo. Wu Dan Ni, seeing no future in singing, became an actress, taking small roles until she blew up as a supporting actress last year. Now, finally landing a lead role, Yu Jing was genuinely happy for her friend.

They’d been too busy to meet in the past two years, their gap widening.

Yu Jing wanted to go back with them but thought of something. “The crew’s covering my flights and hotel this time.”

“Right.” Shen Jiayu was confused by her random comment. “What’s that got to do with when you go back?”

“It’s a big deal!” Yu Jing counted on her fingers. “If I stay an extra day, I’d have to pay for the hotel myself, and rescheduling my flight would cost extra. That’s not worth it.”

Shen Jiayu paused, glancing at the driver, then whispered, “Are you short on cash again? If so, I’ll have finance send this episode’s fee early.”

Neon lights flashed outside, reflecting in Yu Jing’s dim eyes. She blinked, the shadow vanishing, and smiled brightly at Shen Jiayu, her tone light. “No, I just don’t want to waste money. I’ll treat Dan Ni to dinner back in B City.”

Shen Jiayu studied her for a few seconds, seeing nothing unusual, and gave up persuading her. “Fine, your call.”

Yu Jing smiled again, touching the bracelet on her right wrist, staring out the window in a daze.

The last meal was casual, but this time the crew chose a classy Chinese restaurant.

Yu Jing and Xiao Yihuan entered the private room together, immediately spotting Ming Zhu seated gracefully.

Ming Zhu glanced up at the sound, her gaze cool.

Yu Jing met her eyes, her steps faltering.

She looked calm and unbothered.

Yu Jing couldn’t help wondering: Does she know we’re trending?

She didn’t know Ming Zhu well, but from their encounters, Ming Zhu rarely seemed flustered, her emotions well-hidden and hard to read.

“You guys are so slow, come on, I’m starving!” Chen Chen’s shout broke her thoughts.

Yu Jing pulled her gaze from Ming Zhu’s cold face, put on a smile, pulled out a chair for Xiao Yihuan, and sat beside her.

Their table included the director, assistant director, production manager, and the six artists. Chen Chen, the mood-maker, asked Yang Ming about the next shoot. Yang Ming only shared a rough date—a week later—location TBD.

“Oh, almost forgot,” Yang Ming set down his chopsticks, scanning everyone’s faces. “We haven’t taken the promo photos. Are you all in B City the next few days?”

Everyone except Xiao Yihuan, who had a variety show in A City to sing a song, said they were free.

Yang Ming: “Then the day after tomorrow. Xiao Ya will confirm the time.”

Yu Jing, who followed Xiao Yihuan’s Weibo, hadn’t seen any posts about a new song. She whispered, “You releasing a new song?”

Xiao Yihuan smiled. “Not new. Last year, I played the third lead in an idol drama and sang the theme song for free. The drama’s about to air, so they asked me to perform it for promotion. Oh, the lead actress, Wu Dan Ni, is your friend, right?”

Yu Jing smiled. “Yeah, we’re close.”

Xiao Yihuan looked envious. “It’s adapted from a super popular web novel. So many starlets fought for the lead. Your agent’s amazing.”

Yu Jing’s smile widened, sincerely saying, “Yeah, Jiayu-jie’s really great.”

As they chatted quietly, someone bumped Yu Jing’s arm on the table. She turned.

“Jingjing,” Chen Chen held up his phone, “we haven’t added each other on WeChat yet.”

Yu Jing was flattered. When she arrived yesterday, she’d wanted to add them but feared seeming clingy as a nobody, so she held back.

No way she’d refuse now. She pulled out her phone and scanned Chen Chen’s QR code.

“Come on, me too,” Xie Haichao said, grabbing his phone.

Others followed, scanning each other’s codes.

Yu Jing added Chen Chen, Xie Haichao, and Peng Ze, feeling like she missed someone. Looking up, she saw Ming Zhu holding her phone for Xiao Yihuan to scan: “…”

Beep. Xiao Yihuan finished scanning, smiling. “Added.”

“Mm.” Ming Zhu’s gaze shifted, as if checking who else needed to scan. She met Yu Jing’s eyes, who was also holding her phone, searching for targets. Her expression paused.

Yu Jing figured Ming Zhu wouldn’t let her scan, and she wouldn’t grovel either. In rare sync, they said nothing and put their phones away.

No one noticed this moment. After adding friends, they ate and drank.

It was a meal but also networking. Chen Chen and Xie Haichao, great talkers, found endless topics to chat with the directors and producer. As a nobody, Yu Jing didn’t dare interrupt, quietly eating and listening.

People came and went throughout.

Yu Jing listened with interest to Chen Chen’s funny stories from past reality shows, laughing so hard she nearly fell onto Xiao Yihuan.

Steadying herself on the table, her gaze swept across and caught Ming Zhu, sipping water, a faint smile on her lips. Yu Jing froze.

So she can smile. —a thought popped into her head.

And it’s kind of pretty.

Yu Jing stared a bit longer.

Sensing her gaze, Ming Zhu looked up, meeting her eyes. Her smile faded.

“…” Yu Jing awkwardly turned away.

Chen Chen kept talking.

Yu Jing suddenly found it less funny, staring at the table.

Her phone screen lit up with an incoming call.

Squinting, her expression tightened.

Chen Chen was still animatedly sharing stories, everyone listening intently. Yu Jing quietly grabbed her phone and left the room.

The restaurant was bustling, the corridor bright with people passing by.

Yu Jing found a quiet spot. The call had hung up after no answer.

The caller didn’t try again, so Yu Jing called back. It was answered instantly.

“Mom.” She stood in the tree’s shadow, gazing at the night sky, her voice lacking its usual brightness. “I sent the money a few days ago.”

Zhou Yuying, seemingly caught off guard by her curt tone, paused before stammering, “I know, I got it. I-I already paid the hospital.”

“Mm.” Yu Jing kicked a branch at her feet. “Anything else?”

“Nothing really…” Zhou Yuying sounded hesitant. “Jingjing, are you busy? Did I disturb you?”

Yu Jing’s lashes lowered, watching light spots on her bare feet, her voice softening. “I’m done. We’re at a dinner.”

“Oh, a dinner.” Zhou Yuying seemed to grasp for topics, asking what she ate and about her recent work.

These were normal maternal concerns. Yu Jing answered patiently, but when Zhou Yuying said, “Don’t overwork yourself, rest when you need to,” she couldn’t hold back. “If I rest, where’s the money coming from?”

“…”

The mood turned stiff.

Yu Jing regretted her words, realizing her tone was sharp. Annoyed, she tugged at her bangs, wanting to say something to ease the tension.

Before she could, soft sobs came through, followed by Zhou Yuying’s tearful voice. “It’s my fault, I’m useless. I’m sorry. If I hadn’t held you back then…”

“Mom!” Yu Jing cut her off sharply, her right hand flailing, grabbing a branch. A sharp thorn scraped her, and she hissed in pain, biting back a yelp. Taking deep breaths, she said wearily, “I’m really tired today. Can you not bring this up every time?”

The sobs quieted, as if someone’s throat had been gripped.

Yu Jing clutched her phone tightly, silent, suddenly unsure what to say.

“Okay, okay, I won’t.” Zhou Yuying steadied her emotions, resuming a normal tone, gently starting a new topic. “Have you been to the hospital lately? You’re so late to differentiate, I’m worried.”

Yu Jing had been too busy filming to tell her family about her differentiation. If Zhou Yuying knew she was an Omega, she’d probably sigh endlessly.

It wasn’t convenient to discuss outside, so Yu Jing brushed it off. “I’ll tell you later.”

Zhou Yuying murmured but didn’t press, asking a few more trivial questions before reluctantly hanging up.

Yu Jing lowered her phone, checking the call time: 3 minutes, 57 seconds.

Shorter than last time.

She stood there for a few minutes, calming down before walking back.

After a few steps, a tall figure approached, and Yu Jing slowed.

“Filming’s done, I’ll…” Ming Zhu was on the phone, glancing at the figure. Her tone paused, then continued, “I’ll visit you when I’m back.”

Her loose hair hid half her face, the dim streetlight obscuring her expression, but Yu Jing recognized her by her figure and instinct.

Thankful Ming Zhu arrived late and hadn’t seen her earlier loss of composure.

But as Ming Zhu’s gaze landed on her, Yu Jing instinctively lowered her head, passing by silently as if she hadn’t seen her.

The air was thick with heat, pain slowly registering in her brain. Yu Jing recalled her earlier outburst, lifting her wrist.

A long scratch marred her pale hand, skin broken but not bleeding. It probably wouldn’t scar.

Yu Jing didn’t care much, shaking her wrist, then froze—she was missing something.

Her bracelet was gone.

It was definitely there during the call.

Likely scraped off by the branch, she turned back.

At the spot, she saw her missing bracelet dangling from Ming Zhu’s slender fingers. The woman was studying it intently, as if analyzing its design.

Yu Jing quickened her pace.

Ming Zhu looked up at the sound.

Yu Jing stopped a meter away.

With no one else around, she had no energy to pretend. Looking at the bracelet, she said bluntly, “That’s mine.”

Ming Zhu gave her an unreadable look, glanced at the bracelet, and handed it over without verifying.

Yu Jing, surprised by her straightforwardness, took it.

The bracelet had some dirt. Not looking closely, planning to wash it later, she clutched it and met Ming Zhu’s eyes, saying softly, “Thanks.”

Ming Zhu didn’t return a polite “You’re welcome” or spare her another glance, treating her like air… no, worse than air.

Yu Jing watched her step aside, as if Yu Jing were something dirty to avoid, keeping a wide distance before turning away with her lofty demeanor.

“…”

As they passed, Yu Jing felt wrapped in a cold aura, pressing tightly against her chest, suffocating her.

That familiar, stifling feeling returned.

Her fingers clenched into a fist, the metal bracelet digging into her skin unnoticed. Staring at Ming Zhu’s upright back, she blurted out, “Wait.”

Ming Zhu stopped but didn’t turn.

The scene felt like a replay of the red carpet day—one walking away coldly, the other calling out.

But this time, Yu Jing didn’t run to face her cold stare.

The night offered cover; she didn’t need to act strong. Following her heart, she looked at Ming Zhu calmly and asked the question that had puzzled her for so long. “Ming Zhu-jie, I respect you as a senior and think I’ve been polite to you. Last year on the red carpet, it was our first meeting, and I’ve never offended you. I really don’t understand why you’re so hostile toward me.”

She’d wanted to ask this since last year.

After Ming Zhu’s first cold glance, Yu Jing chased after her for answers but was stopped by Zhou Qi.

Zhou Qi had been curt too, leaving Yu Jing frustrated.

Later, Shen Jiayu told her Ming Zhu had a poor reputation in the industry, described as aloof and arrogant by those who worked with her. Yu Jing assumed it was just her personality and didn’t look for reasons in herself.

But after these two days, she realized it wasn’t that simple.

Ming Zhu was cold to everyone, but it was distant politeness. With Yu Jing, she showed outright disdain.

Yu Jing didn’t know when she’d crossed her, each encounter painful. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Since everyone knew they didn’t get along, no need to pretend—might as well lay it out!

Ming Zhu slowly turned.

In the dim light, her eyes were unreadable, her voice flat. “You’re wrong. It wasn’t the first time.”

Her answer seemed off-topic, and Yu Jing couldn’t follow. “What wasn’t the first time?”

Ming Zhu’s lips parted, speaking unhurriedly. “Before the red carpet, I saw you. You were with Zhang Xu.”

“…”

The breeze stirred, leaves rustling.

Yu Jing’s mouth opened slightly, her shoulders flinching reflexively at the name “Zhang Xu.”