Guide To Lying Flat And Getting Rich As A Kept Alpha - Chapter 53

53

The lingering resentment in Cheng Youqing’s heart had mostly dissipated.

What was with this alpha, Luo Hetu? She was clearly just a pretty, strong little country dog.

Too easy to like.

Cheng Youqing lowered her eyes, then raised them again, her fingers hooking the edge of the collar.

“What if I’m still angry?”

“Then be angry, just don’t ignore me.”

“Say something nice to cheer me up.”

Luo Hetu looked at her. “Sister, you’re especially beautiful today, but since you didn’t sleep with me last night, your complexion’s a bit off. So, for your health, you should sleep with me.”

“Ha.”

Cheng Youqing’s lips curved into a smile. Luo Hetu saw it and leaned in to kiss her.

Her lipstick got smudged.

“I can’t sleep without you. You’re so cruel. You didn’t even touch the prey I brought you, and you got mad at me the moment I walked in. You know I grew up without parents, all alone, with people eyeing my glands. I finally found a beautiful sister who wants me, and she’s mad at me.”

Cheng Youqing: “…I told you to say something nice, not to complain.”

“Waaah.”

The alpha with the collar had red-rimmed eyes, looking aggrieved.

Cheng Youqing pressed her lips together, her fingers sliding up to hook under Luo Hetu’s chin.

“So, what do you want?”

Luo Hetu: “I want Sister to kiss me first.”

Cheng Youqing didn’t move.

Luo Hetu started whining. “Fine, go work. I’ll just sulk by myself for a bit. I’ll ask Xiao Zhang to buy me a plane ticket. You go out without me, probably to find some handsome alpha and don’t want me to know. You know I grew up without parents…”

Cheng Youqing hooked her chin and silenced her chattering mouth.

Her palm caressed Luo Hetu’s cheek, lingering on the earlobe with the small mole for a long time.

She didn’t want to be swayed by pheromones, just wanted to kiss purely, so it was an exceptionally gentle and deep kiss, one that felt like it could capture everything about a partner—endless warmth, intimacy, and their soul.

Though, in the end, pheromones did have some influence. Luo Hetu’s hands expertly slipped in, while Cheng Youqing’s hand rested on her inhibitor patch.

Xiao Zhang, busy as ever, knocked and pushed the door open. She knew Cheng Youqing didn’t care about such details when swamped with work and would get annoyed at subordinates’ hesitation.

If Luo Hetu had a moment to think, she’d have said she definitely locked the door. But in her rush, used to modern habits of lifting the handle to lock, it was useless here.

What met Xiao Zhang’s eyes was an intensely intimate scene: the alpha leaning down, gently embracing the woman who had just been snapping at the company’s top executives, her movements tender and delicate.

Xiao Zhang’s muscle memory saved her. She closed the door and stood outside for ten seconds, calming her racing heartbeat.

The CP she shipped had finally shown her some real sweetness.

The experienced Assistant Zhang figured the current work tasks might not be that urgent.

During a brief pause in their intimacy, Luo Hetu smacked her lips. “Still angry?”

Cheng Youqing pinched her earlobe. “Mm.”

“You won’t tell me why you’re mad, but I’ve told you everything.”

“Just because I didn’t eat what you brought back?”

“Yeah! I queued for so long!”

Cheng Youqing thought about it. This person had gone out of her way to pick something delicious for her, waiting in line, probably thinking of her the whole time.

That thought filled her with satisfaction, spreading through every pore. She kissed Luo Hetu’s ear. “Sorry, I wasn’t hungry then. Eating would’ve upset my stomach, and I wouldn’t have slept well, so I didn’t eat. I forgot you worked hard queuing for it.”

Luo Hetu understood and readily admitted, “My bad for not thinking it through. I’ll bring food earlier in the evening from now on. I know your stomach’s sensitive, and I overlooked that. I’ll warm your stomach every day. So, why were you mad at me later?”

Cheng Youqing didn’t answer.

Ugh, it drove Luo Hetu crazy.

Luo Hetu noticed that, though she didn’t say it, Cheng Youqing’s eyes showed satisfaction. The icy wall from earlier melted, revealing a charm behind her coldness that was too captivating.

Luo Hetu leaned in. “What time’s the flight?”

“No idea. Xiao Zhang booked it.”

“Not that urgent, right?”

“It’s very urgent.”

Urgent, my foot. It was probably another one of her tricks. Luo Hetu had figured it out—Cheng Youqing never shared her true feelings, good or bad.

Fine, if she wouldn’t talk, Luo Hetu would just kiss her. Who told her to stay silent?

…

Cheng Youqing went on a business trip to the capital for a day.

Whether it was truly urgent wasn’t clear. She was always serious about work. That night, after some drinks, she returned to the hotel and clung to Luo Hetu from the moment they entered.

High heels and stockings were scattered on the floor, the tag on the collar clinking softly against its metal buckle.

The alpha tensed her muscles, sweat dripping from her forehead. Cheng Youqing’s tongue caught it between her lips, driving Luo Hetu’s eyes red with desire as she carried her to the floor-to-ceiling window.

“So, hotels unlock Sister’s seal, huh?”

Cheng Youqing frowned. “What seal?”

She shrank back slightly. “Not here.”

By the window, despite the five-star hotel room being high up with no buildings opposite, Cheng Youqing had never been so bold as to be held by an alpha against a window.

In other words, all her experiences were with this alpha, so every way was a first.

“The seal that makes you seductive. You’re way more passionate tonight than at home. Is it because the two aunties at home make you hold back?”

An omega’s body was easy to hold, light and soft, like a bundle of cotton. Cheng Youqing, with her cotton-like scent, turned into a soft, overly delicious marshmallow when pushed hard, her usually commanding voice becoming sweet and pliable.

After who-knows-how-many markings, Luo Hetu licked the slightly swollen gland. “When’s your heat, Sister?”

Cheng Youqing, overwhelmed from the intensity, hadn’t recovered. She hummed softly, then said after a while, “Forgot.”

Forgot.

It was like she was always in heat, craving her every day.

She even wondered if top-tier omegas and alphas together were just like this, not even needing a heat cycle.

Luo Hetu held her, kissing her gently while whispering sweet nothings, still asking what she was mad about.

Sated, Cheng Youqing lazily let herself be kissed, drifting off to sleep. Luo Hetu didn’t disturb her, trying to pull her hand away to take a shower, but Cheng Youqing grabbed it, snuggling closer.

The sky was turning a faint morning blue.

Luo Hetu touched her tear-streaked eye corner and leaned in persistently. “Does Sister like me?”

Half-asleep, Cheng Youqing softly hummed in agreement.

Promises made in bed might not count, but since she said it, it meant she liked her, right? Better than refusing to admit it.

Luo Hetu smiled, kissed her, and fell asleep with her.

Back in Jiang City, their little spat seemed like playful flirting, brushed aside. Both Cheng Youqing and Luo Hetu were busy with their own matters.

Sike Internet Café was still raking in money. With two new branches in Jiang City, Luo Hetu adjusted the fees to 30 yuan per hour. Qianbao became the city’s new cash cow, with private rooms fully booked day and night, impossible to reserve. Shanhe Tuling completed its product transformation successfully; besides high-volume milk tea shops, the premium stores had strong daily foot traffic. Li Baitian’s video store had a steady customer base. She signed the actress Luo Hetu recommended, rented a floor in a commercial building, hired experienced industry veterans and a dozen employees, and officially founded Sunday Entertainment.

One less significant thing: Luo Hetu got a call from Southern Publishing House. First, her debut novel was a hit and needed reprints. Second, it was shortlisted for an annual literary award and passed the preliminary round. The industry was curious about her, with newspapers, magazines, and TV stations requesting interviews.

Luo Hetu: “…Can I refuse?”

Her other ventures were fine—she’d used her transmigrator’s advantage to come up with ideas but later contributed to operations and profits. Writing, though, was entirely someone else’s work, and she didn’t want to overpromote it.

“I’m low-key,” she said. “As a writer, I want to live by my pen name alone, no interviews or publicity, and I don’t want people knowing what I look like. Handle the rest as you see fit.”

The deputy editor relayed this to the chief editor, with the same old man from their last tea session present.

The chief editor said to the old man helplessly: “You see, Teacher Luo is just like that.”

The old man nodded approvingly. “Not arrogant or impatient, focused on creation over fame. Few young people are like her nowadays. Ask if she wants to join the Writers’ Association or work at the Cultural Bureau. If she wants a stable job, we can arrange it.”

The chief editor called personally. After hanging up, his expression was odd. “Teacher Luo said she has a job—she’s her wife’s bodyguard.”

The old man nearly spat out his tea.

The chief editor found the incident amusing and wrote about it in a well-known magazine published by Southern Publishing House.

An unintentional act bore unexpected fruit: this little anecdote became the most widely recognized endorsement for Luo Hetu, who never appeared in public or gave interviews. The chief editor revealed at the end that Teacher Luo was actually quite good-looking, and the image of a handsome, wife-doting, low-key creative alpha became the definitive description of “Xiao Luo.” Her mystique brought her unprecedented popularity—the more she stayed out of the spotlight, the more her readers and fans became obsessed with her. The number of letters sent to Southern Publishing House grew daily, and various literary magazines hailed her as the most dazzling literary genius of the past two years. Many awards were even bestowed upon her without her knowledge.

One day, while strolling with Cheng Youqing to a bookstore, Luo Hetu saw her books displayed prominently, adorned with a string of glowing praises that made her cheeks flush.

Cheng Youqing picked up a copy of the reprinted edition, which boldly proclaimed Luo Hetu as a “homely, ideal Type-A writer” on the cover. Nearby magazines discussing rising authors of recent years were equally lavish with praise for all writers, but for Luo Hetu, they went beyond her work—commenting on her youth, good looks, low-key refinement, and even her physical fitness, noting how she rode a bicycle across several city districts and loved her wife.

Cheng Youqing: “Do literary critics comment on this too?”

Luo Hetu, embarrassed: “I have no idea.”

In truth, other writers only had their work critiqued, but Luo Hetu’s mystique made her an exception.

Cheng Youqing hummed, grabbing a copy of Luo Hetu’s reprinted book and casually sweeping up every magazine with Luo Hetu’s name on the cover to pay at the counter.

“They send these to me from the publisher.” Luo Hetu said, trailing behind with small steps.

Cheng Youqing: “I just want to buy them, so what?”

No big deal—your charm when you whip out your wallet is absolutely captivating.