Has The Live-in Alpha Stepped Up - Chapter 39

39: Love-Struck Fool

In the following days, after a brief rest, Yu Guqiu returned to work.

However, she didn’t go back to the group company. Instead, she went on a business trip right away.

To outsiders, it seemed like she was retreating to avoid clashing with Meng Jiagao, who had just returned with funds.

But in reality, she was traveling across the country to visit old acquaintances of Ai Qi.

These elders were people Yu Guqiu visited every year.

Though she now had a purpose in seeking their help, it wasn’t an imposition.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere at Yu Corporation was tense.

On Monday, An Yizhu needed to go to Guangying Xinghui Media, and Yu Guqiu arranged for Xie Fang to handle her transportation.

As An Yizhu passed by the stairwell, she overheard a conversation between some lower-level employees.

The employees, sneaking a break in the stairwell, couldn’t understand why Yu Guqiu had “run away” as soon as Meng Jiagao returned.

Had Yu Guqiu already admitted defeat?

Meng Jiagao’s smugness was written all over his face, as if victory was already his.

Even Director Zhang, who was almost never on time for work, showed up at the company today, trailing behind Meng Jiagao.

As for Meng Jiayang, she practically treated the company as her own, ordering the secretariat to do all sorts of things.

The employees were most worried that leadership changes would lead to massive layoffs, so everyone treaded carefully.

In contrast, the atmosphere at Guangying Xinghui Media was completely different.

As soon as An Yizhu entered the company, she saw everyone busily working at their stations or rushing to other departments to coordinate tasks.

After a long period of light workloads, they were initially unaccustomed to the sudden surge, but with visibly growing bonuses and one project after another being successfully greenlit, everyone regained their drive.

For workers, money is the primary motivator; respect, freedom, and a sense of achievement come second.

Guangying Xinghui Media fulfilled all of these.

When An Yizhu returned to her desk to fetch her drawing tablet, none of the animation team members even looked up, even though she had just been hailed as a rising star a few days prior. Today, no one paid her any attention.

The only one who reacted was Ma Shitong—because she was devastated.

An Yizhu had received a new assignment from Yu Guqiu and had to take leave from Yu Liu and the animation team.

As the team leader for the new project, Ma Shitong had been thrilled for a couple of days, thinking she’d gained a capable assistant. But before she could even get comfortable, An Yizhu was reassigned to other tasks under the unassailable reason of “new assignments from the group company.”

Fortunately, An Yizhu had come back specifically to get her drawing tablet and agreed to help with drafts in her spare time. Otherwise, Ma Shitong might have hidden in the stairwell to cry.

Only Yu Liu knew what task An Yizhu had taken on.

She understood best how difficult it was to recruit talent—especially exceptional talent.

But judging by Yu Liu’s reaction, An Yizhu found it strange.

Who said Yu Guqiu’s task was too demanding? This task was perfect!

It gave An Yizhu a chance to return to campus and experience student life again.

It was almost as if Yu Guqiu had deliberately given her this assignment because she’d promised An Yizhu the freedom to return to school.

In any case, the changes were incredibly favorable for An Yizhu personally.

Originally, according to her plan after joining Guangying Xinghui Media, she would have been tied up helping the animation team meet deadlines for a long time.

She had already considered giving up on this round of the “Johnson Mo” competition and trying again next time.

But now, thanks to Yu Guqiu’s business trip and the time apart, she could finish her submission first.

An Yizhu worked day and night for two days, mailing off her entry before packing her bags to move back into the dormitory.

By the time she returned to Jiangcheng University, it was already 2 p.m. on Wednesday.

Her roommate, Jing Zuo, wasn’t there.

An Yizhu had originally planned to ask her roommate about the screenwriting department, but since she wasn’t around, she had no choice but to go to the academic advisor.

After sending a message to Ye Sansi, she hurried to the administration building.

When Ye Sansi missed her message but ran into An Yizhu at his office door, he was startled.

It suddenly dawned on him that he hadn’t paid attention to her situation in a while.

She had been doing fine at Yu Corporation—why was she suddenly back?

Advisors have lives too, you know.

Ye Sansi felt like crying.

As a responsible advisor, he felt like he had it rough.

Seeing An Yizhu, he perked up as if greeting a superior: “Yizhu, what brings you here? How’s work going?”

Two sentences in, and he was already in full concern mode.

His logic wasn’t wrong—if everything in a normal person’s life was going smoothly, they wouldn’t suddenly return to school.

An Yizhu immediately saw through Ye Sansi’s cautious demeanor and laughed. “Professor Ye, don’t be nervous. I’m not here because of work problems. Well, actually, it is related to work.”

An Yizhu didn’t think much of it, but Ye Sansi broke into a cold sweat at her “rambling.”

An Yizhu continued explaining: “Here’s the thing, Professor Ye. I currently have some internal referral slots. I’d like to recruit some outstanding screenwriters for the company. Do you think you could introduce me to some talented classmates? You can trust Yu Corporation—Guangying Xinghui Media offers the highest salaries in the industry for comparable roles.”

Ye Sansi processed this. “Wait, so you’re back at school to recruit screenwriters?”

“Yeah.” An Yizhu nodded.

Ye Sansi asked again, “Did you join Yu Corporation as a screenwriter or as an HR rep?”

Oh, that was the question.

It was true—her secret mission wasn’t much different from being an HR rep.

“My situation is a bit complicated. Don’t worry about me. It’s just that after joining the company, I showed a bit of talent and got transferred to the animation team, so there are now openings in the screenwriting department.”

The best lies were woven from truths that couldn’t be easily disproven.

Ye Sansi found it all rather miraculous, but coming from An Yizhu, it didn’t seem that strange.

“I see.”

Ye Sansi flipped through files but felt that recommending people based on gut feelings wasn’t reliable.

After some thought, he said, “If you’re looking for talented screenwriters, you might want to check out the drama club and the film club. These two clubs regularly produce scripts, and from what I recall, they’ve participated in script competitions in the past. Coincidentally, they have some regular event today. Professor Li, you’re in charge of several clubs, right? You’d know better—is that correct?”

A male teacher sitting not far away looked up. He clearly hadn’t intended to join the conversation.

Now, he smiled awkwardly. “Yes, they have regular meetups, and there’s one today. I can give you the WeChat contacts of the two club presidents. You can reach out to them.”

“Thank you, Professor Li. Thank you, Professor Ye.” An Yizhu bowed gratefully and left with the contact information.

But after An Yizhu left, Professor Li said to Ye Sansi, “An Yizhu seems so… normal now.”

“It really is sudden. Ever since she presented, everything’s been fine. Maybe it really was the hormones.” Ye Sansi sighed in relief.

Professor Li chose his words carefully. “Compared to her normalcy, I feel like the people in those clubs might seem a bit… not normal.”

Ye Sansi froze. “What do you mean? Are there emotionally unstable students in the clubs? Emotional issues are the most contagious—why didn’t you say so earlier? Don’t make the child I help recover with great difficulty emo again!”

Ye Sansi even considered chasing after her but was stopped by Professor Li.

Professor Li hadn’t expected such a strong reaction. He quickly waved his hands. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that these two clubs love to socialize. They say it helps spark creative ideas. And sure, they’ve produced some good work, but… their relationships are a mess.”

“What?” Ye Sansi felt out of place for being too normal. “Shouldn’t we report this to the dean? Shouldn’t we intervene?”

In the eyes of the seasoned Professor Li, the earnest Ye Sansi seemed like a greenhorn.

Professor Li advised him, “It’s better not to get involved. Nothing’s blown up yet, and on the surface, everything’s consensual. How do you intervene? Besides, those kids all have connections. It’s not easy to intervene.”

Ye Sansi frowned. “But An Yizhu doesn’t have connections.”

“She’s backed by Yu Corporation now. Can you really say she has no connections?” Professor Li reminded him.

Ye Sansi wrestled with his conscience but ultimately sat back down without stopping An Yizhu.

He did, however, send her a message.

By then, An Yizhu had already left the administration building.

She saw Ye Sansi’s text: “Don’t force it if you can’t find good screenwriters. The drama and film clubs aren’t necessarily full of great people.”

An Yizhu didn’t understand what Ye Sansi meant and simply replied with a thanks.

But not forcing it was impossible—she was on a mission. Even if she had to dig three feet underground, she’d find the right screenwriters for Yu Guqiu!

She added the two club presidents on WeChat and received replies almost immediately.

Both sent her the same message: an invitation to today’s event.

The venue was an off-campus café-bar.

The café-bar was sizable, with two floors.

During the day, it operated purely as a café, filled with Jiangcheng University students chatting, cramming homework, or playing board games.

The drama and film clubs had reserved the second floor.

This was practically a tradition for them—a monthly fixture.

When the owner saw a new face heading upstairs, he was puzzled. “New recruits?”

A staff member polishing a glass glanced over and shook his head. “Probably heard these guys have connections and came to schmooze.”

The owner sighed but didn’t interfere.

An Yizhu reached the second-floor private room.

Knocking yielded no response, but the door wasn’t locked.

She pushed it open.

The moment the door opened, the stench of smoke and alcohol hit her.

The café-bar didn’t serve alcohol during the day, but they’d made an exception for these two clubs.

Seeing this, An Yizhu suddenly understood Ye Sansi’s warning.

Inside the room, about a dozen people—men and women, Alphas, Omegas, and Betas—were scattered around.

They were all paired off randomly, sitting together with zero sense of personal space.

An Yizhu stood at the door, unwilling to step inside.

She couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

Their behavior was indescribable, and none of them reacted to the door opening.

An Yizhu couldn’t bear to look.

Is this what college life is like now?

If this was university, she didn’t want any part of it.

Just then, a tall, handsome guy noticed her at the door.

He had been standing by the inner room’s doorway, observing the scene, but now he set down his glass and walked over with a smile.

“An Yizhu, you’re here.”

“Hello,” An Yizhu maintained basic politeness. “I’m looking for the presidents of the drama and film clubs.”

“I’m the drama club president—Huo Wei.” Huo Wei flashed a confident smile.

Like An Yizhu, he was an Alpha.

But An Yizhu guessed his smile was meant to be charming.

Instead, she frowned.

She could sense aggressive pheromones wafting toward her.

Dissatisfying.

Huo Wei, however, was pleased with this outcome.

He could easily sense that he, an A-rank Alpha, was facing a C-rank Alpha.

“As for the president of the Film Club, that guy’s in the private room inside. He won’t come out for a while.” Huo Wei said with a mocking expression.

An Yizhu didn’t understand why Huo Wei looked like that, but she still stated her purpose for coming.

She repeated her earlier explanation: “I currently have internal referral slots for Guangying Xinghui Media. Professor Li said you have a lot of talented people here, so I thought—”

Honestly, she didn’t want to anymore.

If there were any real talents among these people, they sure looked like a bunch of trash right now.

Not that An Yizhu was some old-fashioned prude—she understood that creative types often hit blocks and needed stimulation.

But.

What the hell was this? She genuinely couldn’t accept it. Even if someone here had extraordinary talent, she still couldn’t stomach it.

Yu Guqiu definitely wouldn’t accept it either!

An Yizhu rejected them on Yu Guqiu’s behalf.

As part of Guangying Xinghui Media now, she cherished the company’s atmosphere and didn’t want these people ruining it.

Huo Wei, noticing An Yizhu trailing off, wasn’t bothered. He even smirked.

“Oh, right. Now I remember—you’re the one who had depression and jumped off a building.”

A guy sitting near the door suddenly chimed in: “Huh? Yeah, it really is her! She looks a lot better now, but how does she even have the nerve to show up? Last time, when Brother Huo refused to lend her money, she threatened to jump. Hilarious.”

“?” An Yizhu was baffled.

She had no memory of these “past events.”

Huo Wei, however, smiled magnanimously. “Don’t say that. When she jumped, the teachers all rushed over, and she didn’t say anything, did she?”

An Yizhu guessed this sanctimonious Huo Wei was no good.

Because he wasn’t done.

“I do have a lot of money on hand, and I’m usually willing to lend it to anyone who asks. That time, I was at fault too. If I’d just lent her the money, none of this would’ve happened. So, how much do you need this time? I’ll definitely lend it to you. Even if it’s to help Yu Corporation through tough times, I can consider it.”

An Yizhu finally understood.

These two club presidents had invited her here just to mock her.

They didn’t give a damn about Guangying Xinghui Media’s referral slots.

And now they had the audacity to talk about “funding Yu Corporation”? They probably didn’t even take Yu Corporation seriously.

Good.

She wouldn’t waste any more time here. She’d just find screenwriters another way.

“Never mind. Enjoy yourselves.” Without another word, An Yizhu waved dismissively and left.

Like an adult bored with children’s antics, she walked away without a second glance.

“?”

“Huh?”

“What? She just left?”

Huo Wei, leaning against the doorframe, had expected An Yizhu to beg him meekly. Instead, she walked off without even looking back. This wasn’t how things went last time.

Where was the An Yizhu who used to break down from just a conversation?

“Wait, weren’t you here to recruit screenwriters? What about those referral slots? Not offering them anymore?” Huo Wei, unable to let it go, called after her.

An Yizhu paused on the stairs.

Huo Wei smirked—maybe there was still a chance.

But An Yizhu just said, “I thought you were deaf and didn’t hear me earlier. Turns out your ears work just fine.”

Her tone wasn’t particularly harsh, but everyone on the first floor heard it.

They glanced up cautiously, wondering who this was—daring to offend Young Master Huo like this?

Did she not care about ever finding a job?

Huo Wei’s expression darkened as he stepped to the railing.

Just the sight of his shadow made the first-floor customers lower their heads.

Some even packed up their books and hurried out of the café.

The owner also bowed his head, pretending nothing had happened.

His business still depended on Young Master Huo’s patronage.

Only An Yizhu acted like nothing was wrong.

She added, “You all seem busy, so forget about the referral slots. If you’re interested, you can submit your resumes. We’re always open to collaborations.”

With that, she walked out without looking back.

Everyone was stunned.

“?” Huo Wei’s neck twisted in disbelief.

What the hell? Who did she think she was?

Huo Wei, with his family’s wealth, his position as club president, his connections in the student council, and even the teachers giving him leeway—no one had ever dared defy him.

And now An Yizhu… What right did she have?

“Young Master Huo…” A lanky, disheveled man stumbled out of the private room, adjusting his pants.

But Huo Wei ignored him, slamming a fist against the wall and cursing.

The tall man blinked. “What’s wrong with him? Not feeling well?”

“Master Lu, An Yizhu was just here,” someone explained.

The man called “Master Lu” laughed. “What, did she come crying for money again?”

“Lu Feifan, find out what’s happened to An Yizhu recently.” Huo Wei ordered coldly.

Lu Feifan chuckled, sidling up to him. “What, you’ve taken a liking to her? Why the sudden interest?”

“Piss off!” Huo Wei kicked him, furious.

He’d always gotten whatever he wanted—he couldn’t stand being ignored.

Lu Feifan’s eyes flashed with malice, but he quickly smiled again. “Everyone knows about her. She suddenly presented, got into the Yu family’s failing company—who knows if that’s good or bad luck.”

“Dig deeper. I want to ruin her. She should’ve died when she jumped.” Huo Wei’s voice was icy.

Lu Feifan thought Huo Wei was being childish over such a small slight, but he was used to it. “Fine, I’ll look into it.”

An Yizhu, having left, had no idea about the plotting behind her back. She simply returned to her dorm.

Her excitement for college life had dimmed considerably.

Sure, most students were still earnest, but it varied by person. Academic credentials didn’t equate to character.

Guangying Xinghui Media’s environment was far more harmonious.

“Pretty impressive. I heard you went to see Huo Wei and Lu Feifan and came back unscathed.”

The moment An Yizhu opened the dorm door, a baby-faced girl scrutinized her.

An Yizhu checked the room number to confirm she was in the right place. “You’re Jing Zuo?”

Jing Zuo extended a hand. “The one and only. Your roommate, Jing Zuo, at your service.”

An Yizhu shook her hand. “An Yizhu.”

“I know. You’re all over the campus confession wall.” Jing Zuo said.

“Someone confessed to me?” An Yizhu was confused.

Jing Zuo laughed. “The confession wall isn’t just for confessions—it’s for gossip too. Someone saw you confronting Huo Wei and Lu Feifan and walking away unharmed.”

An Yizhu understood now.

“Yeah, I went to the Drama and Film Clubs for something. But they seemed… unproductive, so I left.”

“Rumor has it they drag people into all-night parties. How’d you refuse? They’re usually hard to shake off.” Jing Zuo asked curiously.

An Yizhu didn’t want to relive the gross encounter, so she lied. “I said my wife wouldn’t like it and left.”

“That worked? I don’t buy it.” Jing Zuo’s eyes dropped to An Yizhu’s hand—where a ring sat.

Not the massive diamond from the wedding, but a delicate band with small inlaid stones. On closer inspection, the design had an interlocking mechanism—part of a matching set.

“Wait, you’re actually married?” Jing Zuo was stunned.

“Yeah, I was away because I got married.” An Yizhu said, opting for the simplest explanation to avoid lengthy explanations.

But Jing Zuo pressed on. “Does that mean you can use your marriage certificate for extra credits?”

“Huh? That’s a thing?” An Yizhu was genuinely surprised.

Jing Zuo burst out laughing. “We’ve never really talked before, but you’re way more fun than I expected.”

That was exactly what An Yizhu wanted to say.

If her earlier experience had dampened her enthusiasm for college life, Jing Zuo reignited it.

Buzz—

Just as An Yizhu was about to reply, her phone vibrated.

Incoming call: Wife.

“!!!” An Yizhu inhaled sharply, her heart racing uncontrollably.

Jing Zuo was startled by her reaction.

She peeked at the caller ID.

“Damn, you looked so nervous I thought it was a debt collector. It’s just your wife… Are you a love-struck fool?” Jing Zuo saw right through her.

An Yizhu pressed her lips together, unsure how to respond.

She couldn’t explain that she was the one who’d saved the contact as “Wife”—and that this was the first time Yu Guqiu had ever called her.

Not wanting to keep Yu Guqiu waiting, she answered.

“H-Hi, wife~”

Her voice trembled, unconsciously turning sweet and soft.

Jing Zuo mimicked her in a whisper, giggling. “Hi~ wife~ Ugh, I can’t stand love-struck fools!”

An Yizhu wasn’t offended—if anything, her grin widened. She mouthed back, mockingly: So what if I’m a love-struck fool? Not like I’m eating your food!