Has The Live-in Alpha Stepped Up - Chapter 33

33: Want to Hug You

Because of Yu Guqiu’s words, the scene descended into chaos, with everyone voicing their opinions loudly.

She sharply silenced everyone: “Quiet! I never said we should abandon the pharmaceutical industry because of this. It’s time for us, the so-called ‘long-robed elites,’ to think carefully. Since Yuhe Pharmaceuticals needs funding, and the entertainment industry can quickly generate capital for us, why not combine the two?

“When one door closes, we don’t necessarily have to open another window—we can reopen that very door. My Alpha grandmother founded Yuhe Pharmaceuticals back then with the help of my Omega grandmother’s media company. We can replicate that path now. Must we wait until Yuhe Pharmaceuticals collapses completely before making a desperate move?”

This argument sounded so familiar!

An Yizhu stared at Yu Guqiu in shock. It really was because of her influence that the plot had changed.

An Yizhu’s memory rewound.

She seemed to recall that before Yu Guqiu asked this question, Yu Liu, who had visited her, had urged her to think carefully—perhaps about this very matter.

No wonder Yu Guqiu had arranged for her to join the media company. No wonder Yu Liu had welcomed her so warmly.

Everything fell into place now.

An Yizhu hadn’t expected her appearance to not only fail to alter the plot’s direction but to actually accelerate Yu Guqiu’s foray into the entertainment industry.

In the original story, though the media company’s rise to prominence wasn’t described in detail, it happened after Yuhe Pharmaceuticals’ complete collapse, when Yu Guqiu sought a new path.

Now, clearly, things hadn’t reached that point yet, but Yu Guqiu had already made her decision in advance.

An Yizhu could also understand why the board had erupted into chaos.

After all, entertainment companies were highly susceptible to public opinion.

When Yu Shanmei founded the Yu Group, she hadn’t directly merged Guangying Xinghui Media into the headquarters partly for this reason.

Though the bigger reason was that Ai Qi needed a free environment to thrive—being under the rigid corporate structure would have stifled her creativity.

After listening to everyone’s concerns, which were mostly focused on negative impacts, Yu Guqiu rapped the table and posed a soul-searching question: “Which is more pressing—hypothetical negative impacts that haven’t happened yet, or the very real financial crisis we’re facing now? Even if we seek overseas investment now, being controlled by others versus earning our own money—which is more comfortable?”

This argument was the final blow to those already wavering.

Everyone fell into contemplation.

Even Meng Jiayang hesitated. The Yu Group was in a critical financial situation. Even if this was the perfect time for their faction to seize control, if the company collapsed due to lack of funds, their efforts would be in vain.

The best strategy was to ensure a steady cash flow before taking control.

Seeing the opposition weaken, Yu Guqiu smiled again. “It seems everyone still needs time to think this through. However, since Guangying Xinghui Media isn’t directly under the Yu Group but is solely under my name, I’ve already begun executing this plan. If you don’t want the money, I’ll keep it in the media company. For those who still oppose, please draft a formal objection and a future development plan for the Yu Group.

“If you can’t make up your minds today, you might as well leave now. Sitting here any longer for a so-called ‘brainstorming session’ would be pointless. We can reconvene another day for a vote.”

What?!

How could there be such a shameless move—keeping the profits in the media company instead of funneling them into the group?

Though everyone had their own agendas, they were all profit-driven at heart.

This was why, when Yu Shanmei was still healthy and the Yu Group was thriving, none of them had dared to act against her.

Yu Guqiu continued, “Now, back to the original question: Why does An Yizhu have the right to sit here? Because she’s already been assigned by me as a representative to Guangying Xinghui Media. If even Aunt Yu Liu and my wife aren’t welcome here, isn’t that a bit too much?”

Wife!

She called me her wife!

An Yizhu’s budding professional mindset vanished instantly, her joy impossible to hide.

Yu Guqiu, her expression cold, added, “So next time, please provide my wife with a comfortable chair.”

Only then did An Yizhu look down and narrow her eyes.

How she was treated didn’t matter to her, but sitting here, she represented Yu Guqiu’s dignity.

How could these people treat Yu Guqiu like this?

She worked tirelessly day and night for the company—did they have no hearts?

Director Zhang scoffed. “Even if Miss An joins the company, so what? Her presence won’t change anything.”

An Yizhu found Director Zhang the most annoying—no one else spouted as much nonsense as he did.

“Seriously, do you not understand human language? My wife just explained—what’s most valuable nowadays? The internet, traffic. Even your faction’s representative, contestant Meng Jiayang, has made that clear. Why can’t you grasp it? Do you really plan to cling to your outdated traditions of gift-giving and boozy dinners forever?”

An Yizhu pointed at the projection screen, her tone dripping with debate-team energy.

No one had time to react before her sharp words landed.

But surprisingly, they actually listened.

This was indeed a motley crew, and the best way to deal with them was to speak their language.

Though An Yizhu didn’t fully support the “traffic is king” mentality either.

With technology and the internet advancing, people’s attention was inevitably scattered by all kinds of information—and gossip was what everyone loved most.

She was no exception.

“You don’t even need to look elsewhere—just this post, this one right here, my favorite shipping comment, was only fifth earlier, but it’s already climbed to third. Just wait—by lunchtime, you’ll be able to enjoy mine and Xiao Qiu’s CP hashtag trending while you eat.

“If you’re hungry and your brains are fried, just adjourn early. You’re all getting on in years—no point bombarding you with new terms. Go home and look them up online.”

After speaking, An Yizhu plopped back into her seat—a standard office chair.

Since this chair was uncomfortable, she’d just stand up more often!

Yu Guqiu watched An Yizhu, marveling at her fearless audacity.

Even Grandma wouldn’t have been so blunt with these elders—they were the group’s founding veterans, after all.

But sometimes, chaos was the best way to deal with old hands.

Her words were impolite but struck a chord, and the room actually started discussing seriously.

An Yizhu, meanwhile, kept her eyes glued to the projection screen.

Her thoughts diverged from everyone else’s concerns.

She genuinely believed that after this scandal, she and Yu Guqiu would trend.

This time, if possible, she hoped the paparazzi would at least pick a couple of decent, normal photos of her.

Yu Guqiu was always so ethereally beautiful, while her wife—her—always looked like a monkey in comparison. It was downright embarrassing.

Should she learn some poise and image management?

No—she shouldn’t blame herself. The real issue was the paparazzi’s terrible photography skills.

If they couldn’t take decent shots, could she submit her own? Would wedding photos work?

An Yizhu stayed quiet, and so did Yu Guqiu.

The others, unsure whether speaking up would earn them a lecture from Yu Guqiu or a scolding from An Yizhu, also held their tongues. No one wanted to stick their neck out for no gain.

Finally, the senior Alpha director rapped the table. Ignoring An Yizhu’s outburst, he calmly and steadily accepted the young Alpha’s momentary passion.

With seasoned analysis, he said, “We all know the path Old Yu took at the beginning. The reason we’ve been reluctant to revive the media company for profit was, first, concern over negative public opinion. But Xiao Qiu is right—we’re in a life-or-death crisis now. Lack of funds will only make things worse. Second, we worried no one could match the late President Ai Qi’s boldness. But today’s meeting is about finding a solution. Since Xiao Qiu is willing to shoulder this responsibility, I think it’s feasible. No need to wait until tomorrow—I vote yes now.”

“I agree.”

“I agree.”

The old-timers who had followed Yu Shanmei had never intended to bully Yu Guqiu. Now that the plan seemed viable, they naturally aligned with her faction.

The Meng faction, being smaller, saw the old guard unanimously supporting this radical plan. Even if they opposed, it wouldn’t matter.

They all abstained.

Only Meng Jiayang, unable to swallow her anger, spat out harsh words: “Old Yu tried this path before and failed. You’d better tread carefully, Xiao Qiu. If you fail, you’ll have no bargaining chips left.”

Yu Guqiu smiled. “Thank you for your concern, Second Aunt. I will. And please tell Dad he doesn’t need to work so hard overseas.”

Meng Jiayang’s brows furrowed instantly.

She had always hated Yu Guqiu’s confidence—no, it was jealousy.

“Since we’ve covered all topics, why are we still here? Meeting adjourned!” Director Zhang, ever the pragmatist, knew when to cut losses. Seeing the tide turn against them, he swiftly called for an end and left.

Though the Meng faction hadn’t suffered any real losses today, they were still deeply unsatisfied. The script they’d envisioned—a sweeping victory—hadn’t played out. Their hurried exit made them look like defeated soldiers.

The Yu Shanmei faction remained in the conference room.

“Xiao Qiu, we’re actually quite relieved you came up with this plan. Miss An is right—we’re getting old, falling behind the times, and losing the courage to take risks. The media company will rely on you to grow, but we’ll make sure the pharmaceutical side is well-guarded.” Without conflicting interests, the elder Alpha’s tone was warm and reassuring.

Yu Guqiu stood and bowed slightly. “Thank you for your understanding, Aunt Wang. And please forgive me for keeping this plan secret until now.”

Aunt Wang chuckled and shook her head, then left the conference room with the other veterans.

An Yizhu could tell—the Yu Shanmei faction’s elders weren’t bad people. They were protecting the Yu Group in their own way.

But to them, the “Group” mattered more than the “Yu.” Whoever could steer the company toward prosperity would earn their support.

As the directors left, the secretaries quickly followed.

Once alone, Yu Guqiu’s strength seemed to drain away. She slumped into her executive chair, leaning back heavily.

An Yizhu, still standing nearby, caught the faint scent of bitter roses and instinctively moved closer.

Yu Guqiu noticed her approach and looked up, murmuring, “You did well today. Thank you, An Yizhu.”

Her gratitude was genuine.

After fighting alone for so long, having someone unconditionally stand by her side felt unexpectedly comforting.

An Yizhu simply smiled softly. “You’ve worked hard, Yu Guqiu.”

Just attending one board meeting had given An Yizhu a headache. She couldn’t imagine how Yu Guqiu managed it every single day—juggling the company’s operations, searching for solutions, and outmaneuvering these people.

You’ve worked hard.

Yu Guqiu felt too exhausted to speak.

She wanted to step outside for a cigarette to ease her mental and physical fatigue but lacked the energy to move.

Yet when An Yizhu said those three words—”You’ve worked hard”—the weight crushing Yu Guqiu’s chest lightened slightly, and her nose tingled with unshed tears.

Heat cycles really did make Omegas fragile.

Who knew a simple “You’ve worked hard” could be so comforting?

An Yizhu took another step forward, stopping right in front of Yu Guqiu.

Yu Guqiu steadied her emotions and looked up. “What?”

An Yizhu leaned down slightly, her voice sincere. “I want to hug you.”

…Want to hug me?

Yu Guqiu wondered if she’d misheard, her eyes fixed on An Yizhu’s lips.

As if reading her mind, An Yizhu repeated firmly, “I want to hug you.”

Yu Guqiu lowered her head.

Once again, An Yizhu was dictating the rhythm of their interactions.

But then again, she was in heat—she needed this.

When they’d signed the contract for this marriage, it was precisely for moments like this: having someone by her side, acting as a human inhibitor.

And An Yizhu was doing an excellent job.

Yu Guqiu opened her arms slightly.

Without hesitation, An Yizhu bent down and embraced her gently.

No one in that boardroom had stood with Yu Guqiu, but An Yizhu would always be on her side.

This hug was different from the passionate ones during marking—An Yizhu was careful, as if trying to convey all her tenderness to Yu Guqiu.

Yu Guqiu, always so strong, finally let herself soften in An Yizhu’s arms, finding solace in her warmth.

She hadn’t expected to feel safe with someone else.

She realized—she was starting to trust An Yizhu.

…

Though the board meeting had gone surprisingly smoothly, without any heat-cycle-related mishaps, the real work was just beginning.

With the board’s unanimous approval to invest in entertainment, execution would be the true challenge.

Yu Guqiu worked tirelessly all day, not even stopping in the car on the way home.

An Yizhu sat beside her, watching the dark circles under her eyes deepen, and couldn’t help asking, “Yu Guqiu, don’t you need to rest? You’re in heat right now, you know.”

Xie Fang cheered inwardly: Yes, yes! Madam, please keep lecturing her! This workaholic never takes care of herself!

Yu Guqiu didn’t even look up, just smiled. “Isn’t that why I have you? You marked me this morning—my pheromones are stable now.”

Xie Fang’s ears perked up.

What?! What did I just hear?!

An Yizhu, however, didn’t find Yu Guqiu’s words odd—she just thought she was being stubborn.

With no other choice, An Yizhu pulled out her phone. “I’ll tell the kitchen to prepare more nourishing food. When it’s time to eat, no more work.”

Yu Guqiu glanced at her. “You’re bossing me around?”

Though her tone held no reproach, An Yizhu’s heart still skipped a beat.

Right—she might be overstepping.

But then she doubled down. “I’m legally allowed to boss you around. Right now, no one in this world has more authority over you than me!”

An Yizhu was referring to their marriage certificate.

And the contract.

This time, she’d actually read it carefully—it stated: “Party B must ensure Party A safely passes her heat cycle.”

So theoretically, during Yu Guqiu’s heat, she had the most power!

“Fine.” Yu Guqiu studied An Yizhu for a long moment.

An Yizhu didn’t press further, but she’d successfully decoded the subtext and grinned.

Yu Guqiu found it amusing how An Yizhu had grown smarter yet remained endearingly clueless.

She probably didn’t remember there was no need to hide things from Xie Fang.

Xie Fang knew about their contract—she’d even handed An Yizhu the living-expenses bank card in the car.

But then again, if Yu Guqiu were to explain to Xie Fang now that their prenup wasn’t just about asset division but also limited their marriage to two years, Xie Fang probably wouldn’t believe her.

…

When An Yizhu and Yu Guqiu stepped out of the elevator, they saw the meal delivery person already waiting at their door.

An Yizhu brightened. “Guess what? You’re taking a break sooner than you thought.”

Yu Guqiu didn’t argue, simply handing her tablet to An Yizhu. “No need to keep reminding me. Here, you take it.”

“Good girl.” An Yizhu seized the rare chance to say this.

She happily accepted the tablet, along with Yu Guqiu’s briefcase.

Yu Guqiu watched An Yizhu’s excitement, thinking how easily pleased she was.

But since she was being so dutiful, Yu Guqiu decided to humor her.

An Yizhu had already dashed to the delivery person, thanking them warmly. “Thank you! You’ve worked hard!”

“N-Not at all!” The delivery person was startled by An Yizhu’s friendliness.

They’d served this building’s residents for a while.

They’d crossed paths with Yu Guqiu a few times before, but she was always aloof and indifferent—like most high-end residents.

But Yu Guqiu’s wife seemed the complete opposite: warm, lively, and radiant, like a little sun. They complemented each other perfectly.

Yu Guqiu followed An Yizhu inside, watching her carry two large food containers to the table.

“You ordered this much?”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a variety. You can try them and see which ones you prefer for next time.” An Yizhu was already unpacking the dishes.

Yu Guqiu scanned the spread. “Nothing I particularly like.”

She’d always eaten whatever was available, or gone without.

Even as a child, her appetite had been small, with no particular cravings.

“Impossible! You clearly prefer sweeter flavors. At Grandma’s place, the tomato-and-egg stir-fry was salty, and you ate less. At Mom An’s, it was sweet, and you had seconds.” An Yizhu countered immediately, presenting evidence.

Yu Guqiu was taken aback.

She hadn’t even realized that herself.

Was it true?

Now that she thought about it, she did remember enjoying that dish at Mom An’s and having extra bites.

An Yizhu added, “Of course, my sample size is small—maybe Mom An’s cooking is just better. That’s why today’s the perfect chance to try different flavors. I ordered small portions of everything. Don’t worry—I’ll finish whatever you don’t.”

She’d already washed her hands and set the table.

“Anyone would think you cooked this feast yourself, the way you’re pushing me to try it.” Yu Guqiu accepted the chopsticks.

An Yizhu wasn’t embarrassed—she’d already planned ahead. “I know I can’t cook yet, but Mom An can! Once I confirm your preferences, I’ll ask her to teach me.”

Learn cooking… for her?

Yu Guqiu looked at An Yizhu, wanting to say, “You don’t need to go that far.”

But seeing An Yizhu’s eager expression, the words stuck in her throat.

She wasn’t used to unconditional kindness.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to reject An Yizhu’s efforts.

In the end, she just smiled. “I won’t be your guinea pig.”

“No problem—the orphanage has plenty of guinea pigs.” An Yizhu laughed at her own dark humor. “Let Xiao Laba eat more!”

Yu Guqiu shook her head, amused, picturing An Yizhu causing chaos with the kids while An Lan looked on helplessly.

She kind of wanted to see it in person.

“Once things settle down, I’ll visit the orphanage with you again.” Yu Guqiu said.

An Yizhu nodded eagerly. “Great! Once you’re less busy, you can visit often. Mom An and the kids all adore you—they’d be thrilled.”

“But you’ve confiscated my tablet. I can’t do anything now, so ‘less busy’ might take a while.” Yu Guqiu picked at her food as she spoke.

An Yizhu caught her meaning and teased, “You’re such a workaholic!”

But seeing Yu Guqiu obediently eating, she added, “It’s not like the world’s ending. Eat properly! I looked it up—Omegas in heat need rest. After this, you’ll work a bit, then sleep early.”

She rearranged the dishes on the table and started devouring her own meal.

Yu Guqiu noticed An Yizhu’s actions. On closer inspection, the dishes she’d enjoyed more had been moved closer to her.

Propping her chin on one hand, Yu Guqiu watched An Yizhu eat with gusto.

She was starting to wonder—had An Yizhu always been such a good eater?

She must have been an easy child to raise, never giving the adults headaches.

Buzz—buzz—

Her phone’s vibration interrupted Yu Guqiu’s thoughts.

Seeing the caller ID, her brow furrowed instantly.

An Yizhu glimpsed the name too.

Meng Jiagao.

Her father.

A father who’d been completely absent until now, choosing to disrupt his daughter’s much-needed meal during her heat cycle.

How infuriating!

An Yizhu regretted not confiscating her phone too.

“I’m done eating. Don’t wait for me.” Yu Guqiu grabbed her phone and strode to the study.

An Yizhu didn’t need pheromones to know Yu Guqiu was upset.

This was part of Yu Guqiu’s “beautiful, strong, tragic” appeal.

The original story mentioned that though Yu Guqiu’s Alpha and Omega grandmothers doted on her, and her parents had been loving during her childhood, her mother had died young, and her father had changed drastically afterward.

An Yizhu looked at the carefully curated meal, only half-eaten. All her efforts had been ruined by one phone call.

She quickly finished her own dinner and cleared the table.

“At least she should have some fruit.” Never one to give up easily, An Yizhu carried a fruit platter to the study.

She hesitated at the door, unsure whether to knock, and waited a moment.

Leaning closer, she pressed her ear to the door.

The study’s soundproofing was excellent—she couldn’t hear a thing.

But then—

Click.

The door opened.

An Yizhu froze.

That was faster than she’d expected.

Yu Guqiu stood inside, the room’s darkness framing her like a silhouette.

Her mood was so low it seemed to seep from her shadow.

The study was unlit, gloomy.

So was she.

Like the world had abandoned her.

An Yizhu’s heart ached.

She couldn’t imagine what hurtful words Yu Guqiu’s own flesh and bl00d had hurled at her to cause this reaction.

But judging by Meng Jiayang and Director Zhang’s aggressive attitudes at the board meeting, her father’s stance was clear.

When An Yizhu blocked her path, Yu Guqiu didn’t move, just stood there.

“Yu Guqiu.” An Yizhu called her name softly.

“Hm.” Yu Guqiu responded, but her voice sounded detached, as if it wasn’t really her speaking.

Her condition was really bad.

“I want…” I want to hug you. I want to hold you forever. I want to use all my strength to tell you someone loves you.

[But how?]

Inexperienced, An Yizhu lacked the courage she’d had that morning.

Back then, in the conference room, they’d been comrades-in-arms. She’d had the right to give Yu Guqiu a firm hug.

Now, she wasn’t sure if her embrace carried enough weight to soothe the pain inflicted by her father.

“You can.” Yu Guqiu didn’t wait for her to finish. “You can hug me, An Yizhu.”