Has The Live-in Alpha Stepped Up - Chapter 35
35: You Support the Family
An Yizhu spoke with a guilty conscience, not daring to look directly at Yu Guqiu, afraid that her hidden thoughts would be seen through.
But when she turned her head, she saw that Yu Guqiu had already closed her laptop, picked up her tablet, and walked past her to sit on the bed.
She was really this obedient?
An Yizhu was a little surprised, but at the same time, she sprang into action: “I haven’t laid out the floor bedding yet.”
“No need.” Yu Guqiu patted the spot beside her.
Just as casually as she had patted the sofa earlier.
Although they had shared a bed before at Grandma’s house, Yu Guqiu’s calm demeanor now made An Yizhu wonder—wasn’t she afraid she might do something bad?
Did she dare?
No, she didn’t.
And Yu Guqiu, with her relaxed expression, knew she didn’t dare.
An Yizhu puffed out her cheeks and walked to the other side of the two-meter-wide bed.
Something on the nightstand caught her attention.
“The wedding photos!” She knelt in front of the nightstand, examining the framed photo on it.
Unlike the imagined large, prominently hung wedding portrait on the bedroom wall, there was only a small photo, about the size of a magazine cover, carefully preserved in a frame on the nightstand.
In it, she and Yu Guqiu stood side by side in their wedding dresses.
Yu Guqiu looked at the camera expressionlessly, like a professional model.
Meanwhile, she couldn’t suppress the smile on her face, her sidelong gaze unable to leave Yu Guqiu.
She really was obvious.
But she didn’t know what Yu Guqiu thought when she saw this wedding photo.
An Yizhu wanted Yu Guqiu to know about her feelings, but she was also afraid of ruining the hard-earned trust between them now.
She glanced sideways at Yu Guqiu.
But Yu Guqiu had also put down her tablet and was looking at her, catching her red-handed: “This was the one the photographer said turned out the best. I didn’t pick it—it was just printed out. If you want to see more, there’s an album in the drawer.”
It was normal for An Yizhu to be interested—after all, these were wedding photos, something people rarely had the chance to take.
Even Yu Guqiu herself had carefully flipped through them when she received the photos.
“Hahaha, was it not well taken? Why didn’t you remember to show me after getting the final product?” An Yizhu deliberately probed, pretending not to care.
Yu Guqiu recalled the photos in the album and smiled meaningfully: “I just didn’t find the right time. They turned out pretty good.”
An Yizhu had only been testing whether Yu Guqiu would notice anything.
But Yu Guqiu’s reaction made her worry—what if the photos were all unflattering snapshots, like those taken by paparazzi?
She took the album from the drawer.
The first page opened.
The photographer had a knack for capturing moments.
She had perfectly captured the instant when An Yizhu hadn’t yet looked at Yu Guqiu, but Yu Guqiu was silently gazing at her.
The frozen moment looked as if Yu Guqiu was pining unrequitedly.
If she didn’t know that she and Yu Guqiu had only decided to marry temporarily after being marked on that rainy night, even she would have misunderstood.
But if even Yu Guqiu could be photographed like this, then the enlarged wedding photo wouldn’t raise her suspicions.
An Yizhu’s feelings were complicated.
But she still sat on the edge of the bed and continued flipping through the pages.
Many of the backgrounds in the photos didn’t leave an impression on her.
Had they really taken so many photos that day? She must have been too busy staring at Yu Guqiu.
Out of thirty or forty wedding photos, in about two-thirds of them, she was openly admiring her wife—no wonder Yu Guqiu had smiled so strangely earlier.
An Yizhu burrowed under the covers and flipped through the album again from start to finish.
She still had to marvel at how skilled the photographer was, and how well the person who compiled the album used the photos to tell a story.
Following the sequence of the photos:
First, Yu Guqiu noticed her.
Then, she completely fell for her.
Next, the two stood back-to-back, misunderstanding each other.
Later, they embraced.
But An Yizhu’s favorite was still the last one.
Yu Guqiu’s skirt occupied half the frame, while they stood in the other half’s cramped space, not physically touching but facing each other, gazing into each other’s eyes as if they could understand everything about one another without words.
If only such a day could truly come.
A day of mutual understanding and cherishing.
“How can you look at it for so long?” Yu Guqiu’s voice sounded right by her ear.
An Yizhu jumped in surprise and turned to see Yu Guqiu propped up on one arm, leaning toward her.
Yu Guqiu didn’t seem to think there was anything wrong with her action.
She was just puzzled—she had also looked through the album, but it only took her three minutes. Why was An Yizhu so engrossed, flipping through it repeatedly?
But at this moment, seeing Yu Guqiu’s profile, An Yizhu mustered a bold answer: “Because it’s beautiful! You look stunning in them—though that’s to be expected. Even I look good. And the two of us standing together are especially beautiful, like a truly loving couple.”
Yu Guqiu hadn’t expected An Yizhu to say something like this.
She also looked at the wedding photos.
In the photo, An Yizhu was earnestly staring at Yu Guqiu.
Her radiant smile had infected Yu Guqiu, drawing a faint smile from her as well.
Yu Guqiu tried to recall.
What had she been thinking when this photo was taken?
Probably that her mother had once worn a carefully chosen wedding dress, full of hope for the future, marrying the person she loved.
At least in that moment, she had been happy.
And when the photo was taken, she had also felt that happiness.
After a long silence, Yu Guqiu only said: “You’ve always been beautiful.”
An Yizhu hadn’t expected this answer.
Her breath hitched, and she smiled sheepishly: “I’m decent-looking, but I can’t compare to you at all.”
Yu Guqiu laughed at An Yizhu’s words.
An Yizhu was never lacking in confidence—she was just more enamored with Yu Guqiu’s looks.
Yu Guqiu returned to her side of the bed: “Are we competing in some contest where we have to rank ourselves?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to say you’re beautiful. Even though you’ve probably heard it a million times, and you’re definitely tired of hearing me say it, you really are so beautiful, so elegant, your skin is so soft and smooth, and if I bit you, you’d be fragrant and tender…” An Yizhu started off enthusiastically but gradually grew more and more embarrassed.
What was she even saying?
Yu Guqiu wasn’t angry—she just countered: “Well, you have good taste?”
“I have good taste.” An Yizhu repeated softly, her fingers unconsciously picking at the album. Fortunately, the wedding photo collection was made of sturdy material, so it didn’t tear.
But she had already said so much—could Yu Guqiu still not sense anything?
An Yizhu stole a glance at Yu Guqiu’s reaction.
Yu Guqiu simply continued flipping through her tablet.
She didn’t mind An Yizhu speaking her mind, but she also didn’t take it to heart.
She just thought it was good that the girl was so openly infatuated with her looks. If this young one cared neither for money nor beauty, that would be troublesome.
Seeing Yu Guqiu working again, An Yizhu felt annoyed.
She closed the wedding album and put it back in the drawer, checking the time.
It was already past midnight.
Yu Guqiu was still flipping through documents page by page.
An Yizhu also wanted to ask, “How can you look at it for so long?”
But she figured it wouldn’t make a difference—such a question wouldn’t change Yu Guqiu’s habits or behavior.
An Yizhu suddenly had a bold idea.
Since she was already in the master bedroom, and she was already under the covers!
It meant Yu Guqiu needed her, so she wouldn’t kick her out!
Then she would take some drastic measures that Yu Guqiu couldn’t resist!
An Yizhu thought fiercely, boldly leaning toward Yu Guqiu.
With such a big movement, Yu Guqiu couldn’t miss it—she felt the mattress sink.
A wave of warmth rushed to her side.
What was An Yizhu planning?
A sneak attack?
Yu Guqiu frowned. Trusting An Yizhu was one thing, but she hadn’t forgotten that An Yizhu was an Alpha as much as she was a young girl.
Outrageous behavior still couldn’t be indulged.
Just as Yu Guqiu was about to stop her—
She felt a lightness on the bridge of her nose.
Her glasses had been deftly plucked away.
That was all.
No further actions.
When Yu Guqiu turned her head, she couldn’t even catch An Yizhu’s gaze.
The girl clutched the glasses and burrowed under the covers, leaving only her hair visible outside.
“Today, so many people at the board meeting wanted to seize power—just let them handle the work. It won’t hurt if you do less. Health comes first—go to sleep!” An Yizhu’s muffled voice came from under the covers.
Yu Guqiu listened carefully, then looked at the small lump a meter away from her, afraid of falling off the bed. She chuckled softly.
A two-meter-wide bed, and she was lying over a meter away—wasn’t she afraid of falling off?
If she loved sleeping on the floor so much, she could sleep there forever.
Yu Guqiu didn’t know why she thought of “forever.”
She put away her tablet, propped herself up on the headboard, and warned: “Don’t crush my glasses.”
The small lump immediately rustled, then slowly extended a hand to place the glasses neatly on the nightstand.
This cautious demeanor really had no aggression whatsoever.
Who knew how much mental preparation she had gone through before daring to carry out that “sneak attack” just now?
[I really was overthinking it.]
Yu Guqiu patted An Yizhu’s head lightly as punishment.
The small lump twitched, but An Yizhu didn’t speak, waiting for Yu Guqiu’s next move.
A soft click sounded—the lights turned off.
She had listened.
Only then did An Yizhu slowly emerge from under the covers.
The room was left with only the dim glow of Yu Guqiu’s bedside lamp.
An Yizhu cautiously turned over.
And met Yu Guqiu’s gaze again.
Why “again”?
Lately, Yu Guqiu also liked to linger her gaze on her, so every time she stole a glance, she was caught.
Now that she’d been caught, An Yizhu couldn’t just forcefully close her eyes in denial.
At this moment, her pheromones were unusually calm due to the suppressants.
But her heart was pounding wildly.
Yu Guqiu looked beautiful even lying sideways, her hair cascading over the pillow, the ends carrying a faint fragrance.
Even with enough space between them for another person, An Yizhu’s nose could easily catch the scent.
But the moment Yu Guqiu caught the girl playing peek-a-boo, she smiled.
As if saying, Got you.
An Yizhu pursed her lips, tracing the contours of Yu Guqiu’s face in the dim, warm light.
Until Yu Guqiu turned the tables and urged her: “Sleep.”
“Goodnight.” An Yizhu immediately closed her eyes, afraid that a second’s delay would cost her a whole night’s sleep.
“Goodnight.” Yu Guqiu watched An Yizhu for two more seconds, only responding softly after the girl had half-buried herself under the covers again.
Her voice was so lovely.
An Yizhu’s happiness was so simple.
Being by Yu Guqiu’s side was enough.
The next two days passed in a busy yet peaceful blur.
On the first day, Yu Guqiu left for work early in the morning and didn’t arrange for Xie Fang to take An Yizhu along.
An Yizhu took a taxi to the compound’s art studio to finish her incomplete painting.
After estimating the time she’d need, she realized she wouldn’t make it and decided to take the painting home, working on it during spare moments to meet the deadline.
When she returned home after a meal at the compound, carrying bags of tools, she wondered how to explain this to Yu Guqiu.
But she found Yu Guqiu already shut in her room.
Two sticky notes were on the door.
The first: Do not disturb.
The second: Urgent work. Will rest when done.
The first was a cold command.
The second was a considerate explanation.
This left An Yizhu with no reason to disturb her. She took the notes as proof she’d seen them.
Then she placed the spare ribs soup she’d brought back from the compound by the door, hoping it would still be warm when Yu Guqiu finished.
An Yizhu returned to her own room to paint.
On the second day, An Yizhu woke up early.
When she stepped out, Yu Guqiu’s door was still locked, but the thermos outside was gone.
It seemed Yu Guqiu had enjoyed the meal after all.
After breakfast, An Yizhu received a message from Xie Fang:
“Xiao Zhu, I’m waiting downstairs. Come down when you’re ready. Xiao Qiu asked me to take you to work today.”
Puzzled, An Yizhu glanced at the still-closed door but quickly packed up and went downstairs.
Once in the car, she couldn’t help asking: “Is Xiao Qiu not going to work today?”
Xie Fang looked surprised: “Xiao Qiu told me yesterday that you said she should rest at home and that you’d support the family today.”
An Yizhu blinked.
That did sound like something she’d say when she was in high spirits, but it was hard to imagine Yu Guqiu mimicking her tone to tell Xie Fang.
“She’s really this obedient? She just agreed to rest like that?”
Xie Fang laughed, dismissing the oddity as a couple’s inside joke: “Yeah. In the past, no one could persuade her. Only your words have any effect on her.”
An Yizhu wasn’t so sure her words carried that much weight.
Perhaps Yu Guqiu was just using her as an excuse.
“Xiao Qiu is in her heat—she really should rest.”
Xie Fang had more to share: “In the past, even after suppressants, Xiao Qiu relied on sheer willpower to get through her heat. But even then, she’d still go to work. No one could talk her out of it—as if the sky would fall without her.”
An Yizhu joined in the teasing: “Exactly! I told her the same thing yesterday—just dump the work on someone else and keep the happiness for herself. Whoever sits in her position would have a headache.”
“Hahaha!” Xie Fang was amused.
Most people were busy chasing fame and fortune, but this girl prioritized happiness.
That was good. Otherwise, Yu Guqiu’s health would have collapsed long ago.
Amid the laughter, Xie Fang drove into the group company’s parking lot.
An Yizhu walked to the media company.
At the entrance, the receptionist personally escorted her.
“Orientation is on the third floor. Since you’re joining alone, there’s a training room where you can complete it independently. Someone will show you around afterward.”
“Okay, thank you.” An Yizhu didn’t say much else.
She recalled the receptionist’s background.
This receptionist had been with the company for over a decade.
Typically, receptionists were seen as short-term roles, but under Ai Qi’s philosophy, if someone excelled and enjoyed their position, they could stay until they were no longer capable.
And “incapable” was never judged by appearance—only by attitude and skill.
An Yizhu took the staff elevator to the third floor.
The layout was unusual—translucent partitions divided the floor into meeting rooms.
Several rooms buzzed with voices. Though soundproofed, the general noise of meetings and arguments was still audible.
An Yizhu didn’t linger.
She quickly found the orientation room.
Inside, a table for six held six tablets.
She took a seat, and the projector and tablets activated automatically.
Quite high-tech.
Watch training videos, take simple tests—all streamlined.
The content covered company history, achievements, recent developments, employee guidelines, and departmental roles.
After breezing through with perfect scores, she waited but no one came to fetch her.
She considered returning to her desk.
But as she stepped out—
Thud!
A thick folder flew out of a meeting room, narrowly missing her.
Had she walked faster, it would have hit her.
No one apologized—in fact, the argument inside grew louder.
“Our department’s been stagnant for so long—now that we finally have a chance to shine, you’re not seizing it?!” A sharp-voiced woman berated the others.
“Team Leader, it’s not that we don’t want to—we lack the technical skills.”
“Exactly. Our department hasn’t hired in years. We’ve kept up with new tech, but this area is completely unfamiliar. And rendering so many frames is less about art and more about programming.”
“Even with the budget approved and hiring starting, finding qualified people in such a short time is tough.”
The team leader massaged her temples.
An Yizhu picked up the folder.
Nothing confidential—just an animation department struggling with a key scene in a comic adaptation.
She didn’t understand the tech, but she peeked into the room with a bold suggestion:
“Have you considered the traditional method? Hand-drawn effects with enough frames for smooth transitions might look better than CGI.”
The team leader frowned, ready to scold the intruder—until she processed the idea.
They’d been limiting themselves.
The client wanted technical rendering for visual quality, not for the tech itself.
She snapped her fingers: “Good point! If we lack tech, we can fall back on our roots!”
“Wait, Team Leader—even if this works, how many frames are needed? With such a big project, feasibility is still uncertain.” someone objected cautiously.
An Yizhu noticed someone had brought a digital drawing tablet and cheerfully said, “What’s everyone stuck on? Why not just draw it out and see? Can I give it a try?”
Though no one present knew who An Yizhu was, anyone appearing in the company couldn’t be an outsider.
The team leader hesitated, “You’ll do it?”
Without waiting to clarify whether this was a question or a statement, An Yizhu had already taken a seat.
The people around her were puzzled—where did this bold young woman come from?
After quickly familiarizing herself with the tablet, An Yizhu immediately switched into rapid-drawing mode.
Having only glanced at the original image once, she omitted the finer details and sketched out its key features.
In just ten minutes, under the astonished gazes of everyone present, she completed over a dozen frames.
Though they were just rough sketches.
Though they were only keyframes.
Yet, it was enough to earn everyone’s recognition of An Yizhu’s skill.
An Yizhu, too, was pleased that her hand hadn’t grown rusty.
She had once been renowned in the industry for her speed and high-quality work.
After all, she could never predict when she’d need to face surgery.
On days without surgeries or rehabilitation exercises, aside from drawing, she had little else to pass the time. Practice makes perfect, that’s all.
“Hey, there you are! I was just looking for you. What are you doing with the animation team?” A petite woman happened to pass by and was momentarily taken aback to see An Yizhu sitting at the center of the crowd, basking in their admiration.
An Yizhu looked up and immediately recognized her.
This was Team Leader Fang, Fang Yun—the same person who had reported to Yu Guqiu over the phone the day before yesterday.
“Hello, Sister Yun!” An Yizhu quickly set down what she was holding and hurried over. “I just happened to be passing by and thought I could help. Now that I’ve joined the company, I’m part of the team. If there’s anything I can assist with, I’m happy to contribute.”
Fang Yun, pleased by her attitude, smiled. “If you weren’t specifically assigned to the editorial department, I’d try to poach you for our marketing team. Alright, no more lingering here. Your editorial colleagues are all busy with work, and they asked me to help you get acquainted first. Come with me.”
“Sure, Sister Yun.” An Yizhu nodded, then reluctantly bid farewell to the animation team leader. “Goodbye, Team Leader Ma.”
Team Leader Ma was momentarily stunned—she hadn’t been wearing her employee badge, so how did this girl know her surname?
Meanwhile, a colleague ran a test using the keyframes An Yizhu had left behind and exclaimed in surprise, “Sister Shitong, it works! The animation runs smoothly with this density of keyframes.”
Ma Shitong was equally surprised. “So, which department does this new colleague actually belong to? Can we borrow her for our team first?”
A more well-informed coworker chimed in, “I think I heard something last week about a new hire in the editorial department who hadn’t shown up yet. Rumor has it she’s a big shot arranged by headquarters, personally received by Yu Liu, Vice President Yu. She wasn’t parachuted into a high position but came in as an intern.”
“An intern in the editorial department? A true expert stays hidden, indeed. Wait for me—I’ll go ask Sister Liao for more details.” Ma Shitong decided.
And just like that, an unexpected rumor began circulating through the company.
“Did you hear? The intern sent by headquarters single-handedly solved the animation department’s biggest problem.”
“Wow, the animation team must be thrilled.”
“Of course! Sister Ma was so stressed she couldn’t eat a few days ago, but today she had two full bowls.”
“But I heard the intern is from the scriptwriting department?”
“What? She’s from scriptwriting? I saw Sister Fang from marketing showing her around—I thought she was from their team.”
“Damn, is this intern some kind of all-rounder? No wonder Vice President Yu sent her—she’s got skills.”