Has The Live-in Alpha Stepped Up - Chapter 38

38: Indirect Kiss

Yu Guqiu had known since childhood that her father was a stern man. In her memories, he was always serious and unsmiling.

Even though her mother came from a better family background, her father was the one who fiercely upheld the “family reputation.”

From a young age, Yu Guqiu was taught to follow rules, observe etiquette, and even control her emotions.

But soon enough, she no longer needed to learn—her emotions were always glossed over, and over time, she simply learned how to “control” them.

After calling out “Dad,” Yu Guqiu fell silent and stood by the door.

Meng Jiagao, however, narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing his long-unseen daughter from head to toe.

When he noticed the pair of powder-blue slippers on her feet, not to mention An Yizhu—still standing foolishly in the living room, holding an AD Calcium Milk bottle—his disdain deepened.

“I didn’t expect that after not seeing you for a while, even your taste has deteriorated.”

The laughter from the variety show continued to play in the background, but the atmosphere in the room grew heavy.

Yu Guqiu understood the implication behind his words.

Meng Jiagao’s condescending remark wasn’t just about taste—it was a judgment on her marriage.

He was clearly dissatisfied with her marrying without his approval.

Yu Guqiu remained silent.

Though she had anticipated this reaction when she made the decision to marry, facing Meng Jiagao’s disapproval in person still left her at a loss.

Years of paternal authority still held a suffocating grip over her.

An Yizhu, however, wasn’t one to back down.

Snapping out of her daze, she turned off the show, set down the drink, and hurried to Yu Guqiu’s side, addressing Meng Jiagao with a respectful, “Dad.”

Meng Jiagao raised a hand, cutting her off. “No need to call me ‘Dad.’ ‘Uncle’ will do. Or ‘Chairman Meng.'”

He clearly preferred the latter, emphasizing the title.

But An Yizhu stuck with the former. “Uncle, I’m Xiao Qiu’s wife, An Yizhu.”

Meng Jiagao didn’t even glance at her, pretending not to hear as he brushed past them and headed straight for the kitchen.

An Yizhu could understand why Meng Jiagao, as Yu Guqiu’s father, might disapprove of her.

After all, she had an unremarkable pheromone profile, no background, and had simply married his daughter out of the blue.

If she had a daughter, she’d probably be upset too.

But at the same time, An Yizhu sensed that Meng Jiagao wasn’t actually concerned about who Yu Guqiu married. His anger stemmed from something else—she was just collateral damage.

“I can accept you finding someone young, but I’ve heard she doesn’t even have a job and relies entirely on the Yu family to support her. What kind of impression does that give people?”

Though Meng Jiagao was speaking to Yu Guqiu, he didn’t look at her, instead busying himself with the coffee machine on the counter.

An Yizhu watched as Meng Jiagao’s unremoved leather shoes left marks on the clean floor.

Even if he was Yu Guqiu’s father, An Yizhu couldn’t help but silently judge him.

This was what he called “taste”?

How classless.

An Yizhu spoke up. “I’m currently working at Guangying Xinghui Media as an intern.”

Her words weren’t much of a rebuttal.

In Meng Jiagao’s eyes, An Yizhu working at Guangying Xinghui Media was no different from “living off the Yu family.”

He shot her a glare, unsure if this nobody was deliberately provoking him.

But he refused to engage with her further.

Glancing at the two electric pressure cookers still simmering, he turned back to Yu Guqiu. “It seems your recent victory at the board meeting has put you in a good mood? Your uncles, aunts, and cousins have all told me—you really made quite a scene.”

Made quite a scene?

If anyone had made a scene, it was Director Zhang, who had been aggressive, or Meng Jiayang, who had used the hot search to attack her.

Thinking about the hot search, An Yizhu grew even angrier. It had clearly been orchestrated by someone with an agenda—who knew if Meng Jiayang was behind it?

Maybe Meng Jiagao had even given the order.

The more An Yizhu thought about it, the angrier she became. She desperately wanted to ask this so-called father what his problem was.

But Yu Guqiu sensed her frustration and squeezed her hand, shaking her head slightly.

An Yizhu looked at Yu Guqiu—the bitter rose scent was back.

So this was the source of Yu Guqiu’s bitterness.

An Yizhu’s gaze toward Meng Jiagao turned hostile.

Though she didn’t fully understand, she chose to listen to Yu Guqiu and held her tongue.

Meng Jiagao, satisfied that neither Yu Guqiu nor An Yizhu dared to retort, took a sip of his freshly brewed coffee.

He placed a small bag on the table. “Guqiu, I’ve been thinking of you while abroad. These coffee beans are for you—try them, they’re quite good.”

Only after Meng Jiagao finished his lecture did Yu Guqiu finally speak. “Dad, you’ve worked hard on this overseas trip. Were the projects successful?”

An Yizhu listened, baffled.

She couldn’t quite grasp the dynamic between this father and daughter.

One moment, their words were laced with hostility—the next, they were exchanging pleasantries like a loving family.

Meng Jiagao sat at the dining table, sipping his coffee with a smug expression. “The funds we secured are ready to be transferred into the group. I’ll explain the details to your grandmother.”

He paused. “And I don’t oppose your plans to revive the media company. But I know it won’t be easy—you must be overwhelmed lately.”

An Yizhu frowned.

The words sounded like concern, but something felt off.

“Yes, it’s been exhausting. I’ve just been pushing through.” Yu Guqiu replied calmly.

“Pushing through?” Meng Jiagao glanced at the paused variety show on the screen.

She had enough free time to cook leisurely and watch TV with her wife—hardly the picture of someone struggling.

But he only smirked and didn’t call her out.

“Guangying Xinghui has several projects in the pipeline.” Yu Guqiu explained.

Even so, her current behavior was unlike her usual self.

Meng Jiagao narrowed his eyes and hummed, then glanced at An Yizhu again.

A suspicion formed in his mind—were Yu Guqiu’s changes because of this person?

Omegas were easily influenced by pheromones. Had being marked altered Yu Guqiu’s behavior?

No, that couldn’t be it.

If that were the case, the board meeting wouldn’t have escalated the way it did.

Meng Jiagao couldn’t be sure.

“If you’re too busy, perhaps you should focus your efforts on the media company. I can oversee the group for you.” He said, his tone probing.

“Of course. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the company. Now that you’re back, it’s perfect timing.” Yu Guqiu replied, her tone almost relieved, as if a weight had been lifted.

An Yizhu was stunned.

She stared at Yu Guqiu.

Her face was a canvas of confusion.

What? Just like that? Handing everything over to your dad? What was the point of all your efforts then?

And if your dad’s in charge, why did we even bother being so firm during the board meeting?

She had so many more questions—

Yu Guqiu, noticing An Yizhu’s face inching closer, pushed her away.

This kid’s expressions were usually animated, but never this exaggerated.

Meng Jiagao didn’t notice their silent exchange.

All he cared about was whether Yu Guqiu was yielding.

She hadn’t even negotiated—just suddenly took An Yizhu’s hand and led her toward the kitchen.

“Dad, would you like to stay for dinner? The braised pork knuckles and beef stew are almost ready. You’ve never tasted my cooking before.”

But Meng Jiagao stood up.

He had already gotten the answer he wanted. Whatever Yu Guqiu’s true feelings were didn’t matter to him.

He had no intention of lingering.

“No need. I won’t intrude on your newlywed bliss. Young people’s preferences are beyond me now.”

His mood had improved so much that even his speech became more affable.

When angry, things he disliked were “tasteless” and “improper.”

When pleased, unfamiliar things became “young people’s preferences.”

The hypocrisy was staggering.

An Yizhu despised this pretentious man who switched his tone depending on the situation. She couldn’t wait for him to leave.

After Meng Jiagao left, Yu Guqiu picked up his used coffee cup. Instead of putting it in the dishwasher, she scrubbed it vigorously with a cloth.

An Yizhu didn’t know what to say, so she silently activated the robot vacuum, programming it to clean every trace of Meng Jiagao’s footsteps.

By the time the vacuum started its work, Yu Guqiu had already finished cleaning the cup and retreated to her room.

The warm atmosphere from earlier had been completely shattered by this man.

It was as if he had appeared solely to ruin Yu Guqiu’s rare moment of peace.

How infuriating.

Yu Guqiu sat at her desk, pulling out a cigarette from the drawer and holding it between her fingers.

She stayed like that for a while.

Outside, An Yizhu paced back and forth, sneaking glances into the room to check on Yu Guqiu.

The oppressive aura around Yu Guqiu made it impossible for An Yizhu to figure out how to comfort her.

Yu Guqiu lit the cigarette, the smoke curling upward.

But she merely held it between her fingers, not taking a single puff.

She recalled when she had first started smoking.

It was around the time her grandmother had suddenly fallen ill.

With that came the pressure of having to take over the Yu Corporation sooner than expected.

Frustration with no outlet.

She didn’t like smoking, but nicotine numbed her nerves, and the refined tobacco scent soothed her.

But now, the rising smoke had lost its effect.

Yu Guqiu turned her head.

An Yizhu was standing outside the door, watching her with concern.

Yu Guqiu stubbed out the cigarette and walked out.

“Still hungry? The pork knuckles and beef stew are ready, and we haven’t finished the show yet.”

An Yizhu hadn’t expected Yu Guqiu’s mood to shift so quickly. After a hesitant pause, she nodded.

“I’ll go dish them up.”

“Mm. I’ll grab something first.” Yu Guqiu headed toward the storage room.

An Yizhu ladled the stew while glancing back.

She saw Yu Guqiu open a temperature-controlled wine cabinet in the storage room and pull out a bottle of red wine.

By the time An Yizhu had set the beef stew and pork knuckles on the table, Yu Guqiu was already reclining against a rice ball-shaped pillow, pouring herself a glass.

The variety show resumed.

An Yizhu nibbled at the pork knuckles and beef stew with potatoes, her movements restrained.

Yu Guqiu’s cooking was excellent—both dishes were perfectly tender and seasoned, leaving a lingering richness on the palate.

But something even more enticing kept distracting her.

She kept stealing glances at Yu Guqiu.

Gone was her usual poise and efficiency. She had shed even the last remnants of energy, appearing more languid than yesterday.

Leaning against the sofa in a loose S-curve, she swirled her wine lazily.

When Yu Guqiu noticed An Yizhu’s gaze—full of concern and unspoken questions—she knew the girl was dying to ask what was going on.

For a brief moment, Yu Guqiu wanted to tell her everything.

But where to even begin?

Should she start with how she had realized, as a child, that her father didn’t love her mother as much as others believed—or even as much as her mother herself thought?

That her grandmother disliked her father, and her father despised her grandmother in return?

Or should she explain how her grandmother had actually been ill for a long time, but it had been kept secret from the public?

Meanwhile, the company has been trying to develop drugs to control Grandma’s illness, but the invested funds seem to have been thrown into a bottomless pit, with no progress at all.

Or perhaps she should start from the fact that, since childhood, she had been watched by all sorts of relatives and even strangers.

She had no friends she could open up to, let alone a lover.

But what was the point of saying all this?

Would An Yizhu look at her with pity? She didn’t want any pity.

She never considered herself pitiable—this was the path she had chosen for herself.

She had once confided these thoughts to someone she considered a friend during her teenage years, but she regretted it almost immediately afterward.

Because after hearing it, that person didn’t know how to react, even overflowing with sympathy and expressing a desire to take care of her.

But instead of feeling comforted, Yu Guqiu had been anxious for a long time. It was as if she had handed someone a knife herself, not knowing when that knife would be turned against her.

Even though nothing terrible happened afterward, she never wanted to experience that again.

The ensuing guilt also made her feel unworthy of genuine friendship, and she ended up pushing away that one person she had ever truly opened up to.

Thinking of this, Yu Guqiu took another sip of wine and looked up at the ceiling.

Unconsciously listening to the laughter from the variety show.

It was fine to stay like this.

Even though there was no quiet environment now, nor was it a private space.

She couldn’t even vent her frustrations.

Yet, it felt strangely comforting.

“An Yizhu.” Yu Guqiu swirled her wine glass.

“Here!” An Yizhu set down her chopsticks and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“You’ll help me, right?” Yu Guqiu looked at An Yizhu through the translucent red wine.

An Yizhu didn’t even need to think: “Of course. You and I are legally married—with a prenuptial agreement.”

An Yizhu didn’t want to add that last part.

But if the “prenuptial agreement” made Yu Guqiu feel more at ease, she was willing to use it as the basis for all her actions.

Yu Guqiu indeed smiled.

Yes.

This sense of security came from their legal marriage, including that legally binding prenuptial agreement.

Now, her most solid ally was An Yizhu.

“I need you to help me with one more thing.” Yu Guqiu set down her glass.

“Another secret mission?” An Yizhu asked.

Yu Guqiu sat up straight: “Yes, a secret mission. What I told him was serious—I’ve decided to focus on Guangying Xinghui.”

Him—Yu Guqiu’s father, Meng Jiagao.

An Yizhu seized the opportunity to voice the question she had been holding back.

“But after all the effort you’ve put in before, why suddenly hand the group over to… your father?”

“Didn’t you say it yourself? That I should just dump all these tedious tasks on someone else so I wouldn’t have to work so hard.” Yu Guqiu smiled.

An Yizhu saw that Yu Guqiu’s smile was genuine—she had said the same thing yesterday.

But from An Yizhu’s perspective, it still felt stifling.

Because Yu Guqiu’s efforts didn’t match what she was getting in return.

“But wouldn’t all that effort before be wasted? Even if you’re handing it over, it shouldn’t be to him.”

Yu Guqiu shook her head: “It’s not wasted. If I’m handing it over, it should be to him.”

An Yizhu stared at Yu Guqiu for a long moment.

That mature, steady, and strategically confident aura radiated from Yu Guqiu once again.

It seemed she had misunderstood the reason for Yu Guqiu’s languidness.

She wasn’t giving up on herself after dropping the burden.

It was more like… she was enjoying a staged victory after a successful plan?

An Yizhu wasn’t sure.

With her limited experience, she couldn’t decipher what Yu Guqiu was hiding in her heart.

Seeing An Yizhu deep in thought, Yu Guqiu, in a good mood, offered her an answer: “Handing it over to him now is different from conceding to someone else before. Because I’ve already gotten what I wanted. Now that I’m voluntarily giving him power, I’ll take it back exactly as it was sooner or later.”

An Yizhu didn’t know what Yu Guqiu was planning: “Is this also part of the plan?”

“Exactly.” Yu Guqiu changed the subject at this point. “Right now, there are many more important things. For example, we need as many presentable scripts as possible.”

“I thought what you needed most now was funding.” An Yizhu recalled the topics from the board meeting.

“It is funding. We’ve already attracted some traffic—the next step is monetizing it. We need sustainable funds to keep flowing in.” Yu Guqiu toyed with the wine glass in her hand. “We need good scripts to attract good actors, which will then attract major investments. Or, the scripts themselves could directly draw in significant funding.”

Clearly, she had a grand plan in mind.

An Yizhu had seen just how grand that plan could be.

As the ultimate villain, Yu Guqiu had the ability to stir up the entertainment industry and even influence the business world in reverse.

But the current Yu Guqiu, softened by alcohol, seemed like someone An Yizhu could topple with a single finger.

Before An Yizhu could act on that thought, Yu Guqiu swayed and began to tilt backward.

Startled, An Yizhu grabbed her arm.

Was Yu Guqiu drunk?

“No,” but this wasn’t an answer to whether she was drunk. Yu Guqiu looked at An Yizhu and continued, “There are no good scripts. I need good screenwriters!”

Yu Guqiu steadied herself against the sofa, her wine glass still perfectly suspended in midair.

An Yizhu guiltily let go: “I’m not a good screenwriter.”

“But you’re in the best screenwriting program at the best university.” Yu Guqiu slowly closed her eyes. “I need you to help me scout a few good screenwriters from your school.”

An Yizhu immediately frowned.

Good screenwriters.

She had heard this term yesterday, but it still only reminded her of one name.

If that person were to help, with her protagonist halo, raising funds would be a breeze.

But An Yizhu shook her head again.

What Yu Guqiu was talking about now was scouting good screenwriters from the university.

According to Ji Lu’s timeline, she should be two years ahead of An Yizhu and already graduated.

An Yizhu had no way to contact her.

It would be much easier for Yu Guqiu to personally invite Ji Lu instead.

Thinking of this, a sharp pain stabbed through An Yizhu’s heart.

She suppressed the possessiveness swelling inside her and let out a breath.

“Wouldn’t it be better to scout talent under Guangying Xinghui’s name?”

Yu Guqiu shook her head: “Guangying Xinghui is also a target. Just look at this variety show—it hasn’t been out for long, and many platforms have already launched competing programs. If I publicly search for screenwriters now, I’m afraid a bunch of screenwriting competitions will suddenly pop up, snatching people away and muddying the waters.”

Yu Guqiu was slightly tipsy, but since this plan had been decided long ago, her thoughts were still clear.

She looked at An Yizhu: “So, having you quietly scout potential talents at your school is one of the best options. Don’t worry, I’ll send someone to assist you later.”

An Yizhu, however, remembered the overtime work she had skipped today: “What about the animation department?”

Yu Guqiu tilted her head: “Oh right, the animation department is struggling without our rising star. It’s fine—if they’re really overwhelmed, they’ll notify you to help. No need to worry about it now.”

Yu Guqiu stood up and poured herself another glass of wine.

The bottle was almost empty.

An Yizhu watched as Yu Guqiu took another big sip.

[Is it really okay for her to drink like this?]

Yu Guqiu, however, met An Yizhu’s gaze and pushed the nearly empty glass toward her: “Want some?”

An Yizhu stared at the lipstick stain on the rim of the glass.

Should I have some too?

Is this… an indirect kiss?

She couldn’t be blamed for her thoughts straying at this moment.

Because from the moment Yu Guqiu took her first sip of wine, An Yizhu’s mind had been wandering.

Wandering to Yu Guqiu’s flushed cheeks, her vermilion lips, the pink tip of her tongue.

Yu Guqiu tilted her head, watching as An Yizhu’s face gradually turned red despite not having drunk anything.

With a smile, she asked vaguely again: “Do you… want to try it?”

Perhaps Yu Guqiu wasn’t being vague at all.

It was An Yizhu’s heart unconsciously distorting the question.

“I’m not much of a drinker, but I can have a little with you.” An Yizhu tried her best to reply normally.

Yu Guqiu chuckled and poured a little more into the glass but kept it in her own hand: “You’re making me feel like I’m corrupting a kid—”

After most of the bottle, Yu Guqiu’s slightly drunk voice dragged out, her tone becoming languid.

An Yizhu didn’t want the wine in the glass—she wanted to drink…

An Yizhu watched as Yu Guqiu tilted her head back and drank half the glass, a stray drop escaping the corner of her lips and trailing down her chin, sliding along her neck.

It disappeared somewhere An Yizhu couldn’t see.

An Yizhu swallowed hard and looked away.

Yu Guqiu pushed the glass, now with just a sip left, toward An Yizhu again.

An Yizhu stopped overthinking, grabbed the glass, and downed it in one go.

A floral aroma, mixed with the alcohol, filled her mouth, making the wine even richer.

It was Yu Guqiu’s scent.

An Yizhu greedily swallowed the wine, even inhaling the air left in the glass.

Yu Guqiu watched as An Yizhu closed her eyes and clumsily drained the glass.

Leaning back against the sofa, she smiled silently.

What to do? I really have corrupted a kid.

“Whew—” An Yizhu exhaled, the burn of the alcohol and the complex fragrance of the wine mingling into a strange sensation.

She looked at the single remaining mark on the glass.

Pursing her lips.

She hadn’t done it on purpose.

The fact that only one mark remained meant…

She tried to cover it up.

But when she set the glass down and looked again—

Yu Guqiu had already curled up between the sofa and the rice ball pillow like a kitten seeking security.

Was she really drunk now?

An Yizhu couldn’t just let Yu Guqiu sleep here.

She walked over to Yu Guqiu.

“Yu Guqiu, get up. Go sleep in your room.”

“Mm.” Yu Guqiu responded but didn’t move, even starting to slide off the sofa.

Luckily, An Yizhu reacted quickly and caught her face.

Yu Guqiu’s soft cheeks pressed against An Yizhu’s fingers, her lips brushing against her palm, her steady breath warming the spaces between her fingers.

An Yizhu couldn’t help but tighten her grip slightly.

Yu Guqiu’s face is unexpectedly squishy!

So cute!

An Yizhu quickly closed her eyes, trying to deceive herself into thinking nothing had happened.

Otherwise, she might do something even more inappropriate.

“Yu Guqiu.” An Yizhu called her name again, softer this time.

It was almost unclear whether she wanted to wake her up or not.

She stopped overthinking.

Sliding a hand behind Yu Guqiu’s neck—

This time, An Yizhu really hadn’t done it on purpose.

The back of the neck was where the scent gland was located, and even half-drunk, Yu Guqiu was sensitive there.

Her eyes flew open instantly.

The sharpness in her gaze froze An Yizhu in place, her mouth opening to explain.

“Yu Guqiu, I—”

But Yu Guqiu had already recognized An Yizhu and, without hesitation, closed her eyes again.

“……” An Yizhu’s lips parted slightly, unsure what else to say.

Had Yu Guqiu’s trust in her already reached this level?

Yu Guqiu didn’t move, instead looping an arm around An Yizhu’s shoulder.

Though she wasn’t applying force, it made it easier for An Yizhu to act.

An Yizhu took the opportunity to lift her into her arms.

Carrying her into the master bedroom.

Gently setting her down and tucking her under the covers.

Yu Guqiu turned onto her side, rolling right up to An Yizhu before she could stand.

An Yizhu gazed at Yu Guqiu’s flawless, dewy cheeks.

I want to kiss her.

But An Yizhu sighed.

She loved Yu Guqiu.

It was an uncontrollable love.

Watching Yu Guqiu’s sleeping face now, that love expanded to every cell in her body.

But she also knew very well that kissing someone without their consent was a violation.

An Yizhu simply poked Yu Guqiu’s cheek with a finger—as a reward for herself and a punishment for Yu Guqiu.

Whispering: “Don’t drink so much next time.”

[I don’t know how many more times I can hold back.]

An Yizhu licked her lips, gave Yu Guqiu one last long look, then quickly left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Only—

The moment the door clicked shut, Yu Guqiu slowly opened her eyes and rolled onto her back.

She touched her cheek.

Muttering under her breath: “Seems like… he’s not one of his people either.”