Failed to Pretend to Be an Alpha and Got Marked by the Enemy (ABO, GL) - Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Yu Jing regretted it.

She regretted opening that window, regretted chatting with buzz-cut guy, even regretted getting into this car.

It seemed every time she was alone with Ming Zhu, she couldn’t escape the law of awkward social death…

Ming Zhu’s earlier comment was probably offhand, but Yu Jing’s curious probing had successfully embarrassed herself.

She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to speak.

Her eyes didn’t dare glance at Ming Zhu. Stiffly turning her neck, she scanned the three sides, seeing cars stuck in traffic, her heart quietly anxious.

How long would it take to clear this?

Staying with Ming Zhu like this, she felt suffocated.

Fidgeting uncomfortably, not wanting to talk, she needed something to distract herself.

She picked up her phone again, noticing several unread WeChat messages, and opened them.

Wu Dan Ni: “Jingjing, I’m sorry.”

An abrupt apology.

Yu Jing didn’t know the reason but guessed it was likely about Zhang Xu.

Coming to celebrate Wu Dan Ni’s birthday, Yu Jing felt a bit stifled, but mostly angry and helpless.

She couldn’t convince Wu Dan Ni to leave that jerk Zhang Xu. Not wanting to see him and to avoid tension, she chose to leave.

Zhang Xu had become a minefield between them.

A birthday shouldn’t involve unhappy words. Yu Jing stared at the message for a long time, rubbed her forehead, and replied: “Have fun.”

She’d meant to tell Wu Dan Ni about her differentiation but now felt too lazy.

Feeling down, she closed Wu Dan Ni’s chat and opened the lively ‘Treasure Hunt’ six-person group.

The group was buzzing.

Peng Ze: “Brothers and sisters, I’m auditioning for an important movie this week. I might miss the third episode’s recording.”

Xiao Yihuan: “Movie audition! Little Ze, you’re amazing! Good luck!”

Peng Ze: “Thanks, Yihuan.”

Peng Ze: “It’s just a small role, but I hear the competition’s fierce. I’m so nervous.”

Xie Haichao: “What movie?”

Peng Ze: “East Wind Crossing”

Xie Haichao: “Whoa, big director, big production. Nice one, Little Ze, go for it!”

Peng Ze: “Thanks, Brother Chao. I’ll do my best.”

Chen Chen: “Little Ze, your acting’s so good, you’ll nail the audition. Be confident.”

Chen Chen: “But come back quick. Without you, I’m short another godly teammate.”

Xiao Yihuan: “Brother Chen, how many godly teammates do you have? First episode, Jingjing; second, Little Ze.”

Chen Chen: “Hahaha, you can be my godly teammate too! I’ve got a feeling we’ll team up in the third episode.”

Xiao Yihuan: “No way, I don’t want you. Your luck’s so bad, if we draw something like a pressure board again, I’m done for.”

Chen Chen: “Fine, ditch me then. Maybe this time I’ll get a sweet little Omega as my partner. Man, I can’t wait for the third episode!”

Xiao Yihuan: “Brother Chen, you’re like a peacock fanning its tail.”

Xie Haichao: “Keep strutting, and we’ll pluck your feathers.”

Xiao Yihuan: “Yeah, let him run naked!”

“Pfft—” Yu Jing couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing. Her gloomy mood vanished.

The car was quiet, making her laugh stand out, drawing Ming Zhu’s gaze from where she was staring out the window.

Realizing too late someone was there, Yu Jing met Ming Zhu’s curious look, her smile freezing. She quickly covered her mouth.

Ming Zhu had only glanced casually, but her odd reaction sparked curiosity. Glancing at her phone, Ming Zhu asked casually: “What’s so funny?”

Yu Jing’s dark eyes darted as her mind raced.

Her earlier embarrassment came from talking too much. Afraid of saying the wrong thing, she considered staying silent. But Ming Zhu initiating a topic made ignoring her seem rude. After hesitating, she lowered her hands, cautiously saying: “Check the group yourself.”

Ming Zhu studied her, her brow furrowing slightly.

As an actress, Ming Zhu was skilled at reading people. Sensing Yu Jing’s reluctance to talk, her curiosity faded. She turned away, saying coldly: “Don’t want to.”

“…”

Those three simple words carried a chill and distance, clearly different from her earlier tone.

Yu Jing looked at her graceful yet tense profile, anxiously wondering: Is she mad?

For someone as aloof as Ming Zhu to initiate conversation, and for Yu Jing to act so hesitant… Reflecting, she felt she was being petty.

She shifted in her seat, fingers brushing the phone screen, cleared her throat, and told Ming Zhu about Peng Ze’s audition and possible absence from the next episode.

Ming Zhu showed no reaction.

Yu Jing’s toes curled, feeling at a loss.

As she racked her brain to ease the unspoken awkwardness, Ming Zhu spoke lightly: “The third episode’s filming location is B City.”

Phew, a response at last.

Yu Jing exhaled, blinking with puzzled eyes: “How do you know it’s B City?”

Ming Zhu turned, her expression softening, her eyes calm: “Yang Fan, Teacher Yang—you know him, right?”

Though not an actress, Yu Jing knew a legend like Yang Fan. She didn’t see the connection but nodded.

“I came to his birthday banquet tonight,” Ming Zhu said slowly. “Director Yang Ming is his son. I overheard him mention to someone that the next episode’s in B City.”

Not wanting to freeze the mood, Yu Jing eagerly followed up: “Besides B City, did Director Yang mention anything else about the next episode?”

Ming Zhu shook her head: “I didn’t ask.”

“…” Yu Jing felt she’d killed the conversation again.

“But,” Ming Zhu paused, glancing at her with a complex look, “I asked him about the second episode’s edited version.”

Yu Jing’s grip on her phone tightened, her voice eager: “Did we get barely any screen time again?”

“Yeah.” Ming Zhu’s face was neutral.

Yu Jing’s heart churned. She turned her phone off, then on, shrugged, and forced a casual smile: “I guessed as much.”

Ming Zhu watched her eyes glint with shards of light, asking softly: “Aren’t you upset?”

Yu Jing’s lips moved, avoiding her gaze, staring at the stalled cars outside, her mood like the blocked traffic—stifled, helpless, angry.

“What’s the use of being upset?” Her voice carried deep powerlessness. “I’m a nobody, no match for these capitalists.”

A breeze slipped through the window gap, stirring her slightly curled hair.

The girl hung her head, like a kitten who’d lost a fight, her forehead practically screaming “upset.”

Still in her milky white dress, she reminded Ming Zhu of her lazy cat at home. The cat, mischievous, would sulk after falling from a height, but a pat on the head would have it bouncing back.

Ming Zhu, almost instinctively, raised her hand.

Yu Jing lifted her head, the gloom in her eyes gone, her gaze firm again.

Her resilience was strong, or rather, she was used to faking strength.

“?” Yu Jing turned, puzzled, at Ming Zhu’s half-raised hand.

“…” Ming Zhu redirected her hand smoothly, picking up her phone from the center console.

Yu Jing understood, secretly biting her lip, her ears reddening.

She’d thought Ming Zhu was going to pat her head…

Ashamed of her assumption, she sat up straight, grabbing her phone to pretend she was busy.

Half an hour later, traffic finally moved.

The long line of cars broke apart, vehicles scattering in different directions.

Exiting the tunnel, the light brightened, and Yu Jing’s gaze left her phone.

“Don’t look up yet,” Ming Zhu said urgently.

Yu Jing, half-raising her head, felt a hand press her down. Eyes lowered, she asked, confused: “What’s wrong?”

Ming Zhu steadied the wheel with one hand, the other on Yu Jing’s head, eyeing the shocking bloodstain on the ground ahead. Frowning, she said: “There’s a lot of bl00d up there. Don’t look.”

Yu Jing recalled buzz-cut guy’s mention of the accident scene, understanding Ming Zhu’s intent, and stayed still obediently.

She wasn’t squeamish about bl00d, but Ming Zhu’s small gesture touched her.

The hand rested lightly on her head, less a press, more a gentle stroke, light yet oddly grounding.

Yu Jing’s heartbeat quickened.

Only when the bl00d was out of sight did Ming Zhu lift her hand.

Yu Jing slowly raised her head, staring at the hand returning to the wheel, then sneaking a glance at the focused driver.

Ming Zhu’s sharp features were striking, her cool demeanor giving a strong sense of distance when silent. Most who saw her thought her aloof. But after several encounters, Yu Jing found her not cold at all—maybe just bad at expressing herself.

The earlier topic of cut footage had dampened Yu Jing’s mood, but Ming Zhu’s warm gesture revived her heart.

She quietly admired Ming Zhu’s perfect, serious profile, her lips curling upward unconsciously.

Splash—

Cool liquid flew in through the slightly open window, a drop landing on Yu Jing’s forehead, interrupting her thoughts.

Looking out, she saw it was indeed raining.

Yu Jing wiped the droplet with her hand, watching the wipers swing busily, sighing inwardly.

Couldn’t it have waited a few minutes?

The downpour washed away the bl00d and car dust but became an obstacle. For safety, Ming Zhu slowed down. By the time they reached Yu Jing’s complex, it was past nine.

The rain showed no sign of letting up, fat drops pounding the windows loudly.

Yu Jing clutched her bag’s strap, watching Ming Zhu rummage in the armrest box, finally pulling out an umbrella. Both sighed in relief.

Ming Zhu shook open the umbrella, looking at her: “I’ll get out first.”

Yu Jing nodded, watching her exit, circle the car, open her door, and extend a hand.

Water rushed on the ground. In five-centimeter heels, Yu Jing didn’t hesitate, placing her hand in Ming Zhu’s to avoid falling.

Ming Zhu’s fingers closed, grasping her slender hand, gently pulling her under the umbrella.

The umbrella wasn’t large, but both were slim, sufficient for normal rain. Tonight’s storm was fierce, bending saplings in the complex and rattling streetlights. Rain slanted in, and Ming Zhu quickly tilted the umbrella toward Yu Jing.

Yu Jing pointed the way, her view blocked by the umbrella. Glancing sideways, she saw Ming Zhu’s left shoulder nearly soaked and grabbed the handle to shift it toward her.

Ming Zhu, realizing her intent, held her small hand.

Unable to move it, Yu Jing watched rain drench Ming Zhu’s light blue fabric, urgently saying: “Your clothes are wet!”

Ming Zhu removed her hand, saying lightly: “As long as yours aren’t.”

The rain was loud. Yu Jing shouted: “I don’t care! I’m almost home, I can change if I’m wet!” Ming Zhu, soaked, had a long drive back.

Ming Zhu looked down at her, her expression serious: “I’m an Alpha; a little rain’s fine. You’re an Omega; you’ll catch a cold.”

“…”

Yu Jing didn’t think herself that delicate. She wanted to argue but swallowed her words.

Protecting Omegas was like a duty etched in an Alpha’s genes. If their roles were reversed, Yu Jing would do the same.

Still, seeing Ming Zhu drenched, she felt uneasy, so she quietly shuffled closer.

A soft, fragrant body bumped into her. Ming Zhu, focused on the path, froze, looked down, met Yu Jing’s shy gaze, and froze again.

Alphas and Omegas were different, and Yu Jing knew getting so close wasn’t proper, but she had no other solution. Their distance shrank to the minimum, reducing Ming Zhu’s exposure to the rain.

The near-embrace made Yu Jing shy. Flustered, she looked away, saying: “We… can walk slower.”

Though she didn’t explain, Ming Zhu understood her gesture. Her grip on the umbrella tightened, her throat moved, and she softly said: “Hm.”

From separate entities, they became nearly entwined, unable to move quickly.

The rain poured, lights fragmented by the downpour.

A young couple splashed by, flirting. Yu Jing couldn’t see their faces but faintly heard their banter.

Girl: “It’s pouring. Let’s go back and order takeout.”

Boy: “Don’t you think a rainy stroll is romantic?”

Girl: “Romantic my ass, my shoes are soaked.”

Boy: “Hop on, I’ll carry you.”

The girl jumped onto his back, and they headed sweetly toward the complex gate.

Yu Jing glanced at her and Ming Zhu’s close shadows, recalling buzz-cut guy’s friend’s nonsense. Her face heated.

She and Ming Zhu weren’t a couple, but their intimate stance looked, at a glance, like lovers clinging in the rain…

The couple’s playful voices faded. Ming Zhu noticed Yu Jing slowing, her gaze falling on the daydreaming girl.

From this angle, Ming Zhu saw only her delicate chin and the cat-like ear tips peeking from her soft hair, thin and translucent, pink as peach blossoms.

…Were her ears red?

The light was dim, and Ming Zhu wasn’t sure. Leaning to check, Yu Jing suddenly looked up.

Ming Zhu’s chin nearly hit her head. She straightened, unsettled, hearing Yu Jing say: “It’s that building ahead.”

Following her slender finger, Ming Zhu saw the building marked “9,” her eyes narrowing.

It felt like they’d barely walked, and they were already there.

Ming Zhu escorted her to the glass door.

Yu Jing swiped her keycard, stepping out from under the umbrella.

Leaving Ming Zhu’s warm embrace, she was hit by chilly air. Taking a deep breath, she looked up: “Thanks for driving me back.”

Half of Ming Zhu’s face was shadowed by the umbrella, her expression unreadable. Her thin lips moved: “You’re welcome.”

Given their Alpha-Omega difference and the late hour, Yu Jing didn’t politely invite her up. Glancing at Ming Zhu’s wet left shoulder, guilt washed over her. She said earnestly: “It’s still pouring. Drive carefully.”

Ming Zhu nodded slightly, noticing rain slipping through the door seam, splashing Yu Jing’s fair feet: “Go up quick.”

“I’m going. Bye.” Yu Jing smiled, waved, and turned to leave.

Ming Zhu’s lips curved faintly: “Bye.”

As Yu Jing neared the elevator, she turned back.

She saw the tall figure holding the umbrella alone, fading into the rain, her heart stirring: Such a warm person—her future girlfriend or boyfriend would be so lucky, right?

Only when Ming Zhu vanished did Yu Jing press the elevator button.

After that night, B City saw three days of relentless rain. The complex’s plants were battered, streets waterlogged enough to raise fish, making travel tough.

Yu Jing still went to the company daily to practice singing and dancing, undeterred.

Her new song did well, hitting second on the daily chart upon release and climbing to fifth on the weekly chart in three days. The company promised a second single if ‘To the Sun’ reached first. Though Yu Jing thought it unlikely, it fueled her drive, and she practiced relentlessly.

She expected to see Ming Zhu only at the next ‘Treasure Hunt’ episode, but an unexpected twist came—the third episode’s recording was postponed for some reason.

Yu Jing got the news while venting her frustrations in the practice room.

The cause was an order from Zhang Xu.

‘Treasure Hunt’ was a major show, with polished episodes airing Saturdays at 10 p.m. on Orange Melon TV. When viewers saw the second episode’s final cut, with Yu Jing and Ming Zhu’s scenes nearly gone, CP fans and onlookers exploded.

The hashtag #WhyNoYuJingAndMingZhuScreenTime# rocketed from the top 50 to number one, sparking heated online debate.

[“I watched this show for MingYu’s interactions, and you cut all their best scenes? Is something stuck in the editor’s brain???”]

[“Six guests, only four get screen time. Just rename the show ‘Four-Person Treasure Hunt’.”]

[“Even as a passerby, I can’t stand this. Why no MingYu screen time?”]

[“Before filming, their feud rumors stirred buzz. The first episode teased their CP, and seeing it gain traction, they started cutting to mess with fans. Tsk, such obvious hype tactics. The crew’s playing dirty!”]

[“Feels like a stunt. Who invites guests and gives them no screen time? Cutting to create buzz, huh?”]

The crew cried foul!

Insiders knew the MingYu CP was purely fan-driven, and with its popularity, the planners designed more interactions for them in the third episode. But Zhang Xu, a major investor, saw the plan and declared: “Don’t let them team up again.”

The plan was revised, and the second episode’s cut eliminated their scenes.

Yang Ming called Zhang Xu, pleading: “Young Master Zhang, you may not know, but after two episodes, Yu Jing and Ming Zhu have the most buzz. Many watch our show for MingYu. Cutting their scenes hurts our ratings. Low ratings mean less profit for you, right?”

The voice on the phone was brash: “Yang, you think I’m short on cash?”

“…”

Yang Ming thought this young master lacked not money but sense.

A potentially huge show was being wrecked by Zhang Xu. Yang Ming nearly quit on the call but couldn’t abandon his work and held back.

With the plan and filming location changed, the third episode was delayed.

Given Yu Jing and Ming Zhu’s modest popularity, cut scenes shouldn’t have caused such a stir. CP hype was common and wouldn’t usually spark backlash. But the crew’s heavy-handed moves twice in a row made fans and onlookers feel toyed with, fueling outrage that lasted two days.

Netizens demanded an explanation from the official Weibo, but under the investor’s pressure, it stayed silent.

Yu Jing was already down about the second episode’s cuts. On the third day of the uproar, Shen Jiayu rushed in with good news: “‘Red Beauty’ wants you for their next weekly issue’s cover!”

Yu Jing felt like she was dreaming.

She’d done minor magazine shoots for exposure, but those were obscure publications, nothing like ‘Red Beauty’.

‘Red Beauty’ was the top women’s magazine in the country. Only A-listers or trending stars graced its covers. Why her?

Yu Jing thought Shen Jiayu was joking to cheer her up.

“It’s true, it’s true!” Shen Jiayu shook her shoulders. “Their editor just called. If the other person agrees, you can shoot tomorrow!”

“The other person?” Yu Jing was confused. “Who else?”

“Your CP, Ming Zhu!” Shen Jiayu rattled off: “’Red Beauty’’s next issue has a same-s3x love theme. With MingYu CP trending, they likely want you two for a dual cover.”

Yu Jing blinked, convinced Shen Jiayu wasn’t lying.

But she doubted it would happen.

Wiping sweat with a dry towel, Yu Jing looked at Shen Jiayu’s excited, flushed face and said quietly: “Sister Jiayu, with Ming Zhu’s personality, do you think she’d agree?”

Shen Jiayu’s expression fell, and she went silent.

Ming Zhu’s personality… was hard to predict.

Starting in theater at nineteen, Ming Zhu only recently transitioned to TV dramas. In six years, beyond necessary promotions, she avoided events, ads, magazines, even variety shows until now, keeping an outrageously low profile.

Magazine shoots paid little. With Ming Zhu’s disinterest in fame over six years, would she break her principles for a mere cover?

…

Ding-dong—

Zhou Qi’s phone pinged. Opening WeChat, she saw a friend request with the note: Hello, I’m an assistant editor at ‘Red Beauty’ magazine.

“’Red Beauty’ magazine?” Zhou Qi read aloud instinctively.

Ming Zhu, flipping through a menu across from her, didn’t catch it: “What’d you say?”

Zhou Qi smiled casually: “An assistant editor from ‘Red Beauty’ added me. Probably wants you for a cover.”

Ming Zhu looked uninterested, saying curtly: “Not doing it.”

Zhou Qi expected this but approved the request anyway.

No shoot, but no need to offend, right?

Once approved, the editor got to the point, confirming they wanted Ming Zhu for a cover.

Zhou Qi was drafting a polite refusal when another message came, pausing her fingers.

She hesitated, looking at Ming Zhu studying the menu: “The assistant says it’s a dual cover. If you decline, the other person gets replaced.”

Ming Zhu barely looked up, her brow cool, her eyes flat, as if saying: What’s that to me?

Zhou Qi tapped the screen, reading slowly: “The other person is Yu Jing.”

Ming Zhu’s page-turning stopped, her eyelids twitching faintly.

Seeing her silence, Zhou Qi said: “I’ll decline for you?”

Ming Zhu’s eyes, hidden under long lashes, flickered. She turned a page unhurriedly.

Assuming agreement, Zhou Qi typed on.

Before hitting send, her artist said coolly: “Take it.”