Has The Live-in Alpha Stepped Up - Chapter 44
44: Calling Your Name
An Yizhu, who hadn’t intended to look at Yu Guqiu, felt the weight on her head.
She turned and met Yu Guqiu’s gaze.
“You… what do you mean?” An Yizhu’s heart fluttered nervously. Yu Guqiu had never behaved like this before.
Watching the fleeting confusion in Yu Guqiu’s eyes, it seemed even she didn’t know why she had done it.
An Yizhu stared at Yu Guqiu for a long time.
Yu Guqiu remained silent, but the hand on An Yizhu’s head slowly stroked her hair.
No explanation, just mindless head-patting—like a heartless woman.
How infuriating! This woman just teased people without even knowing why she was doing it!
An Yizhu couldn’t understand what Yu Guqiu was thinking.
She only felt weak for letting a simple head pat dissolve her anger, leaving her unable to even utter a word of refusal.
She could only turn her head away.
Pouting, she said, “I get it. I’ll cooperate and fulfill my duties as Party B. I’m good at that.”
Her head was warm, her hair soft.
But Yu Guqiu’s hand gradually stilled.
This time, she hadn’t intended to use the contract to force An Yizhu’s cooperation. Yet An Yizhu had brought it up herself.
It was like a boomerang, circling back to strike her.
She had wanted to say that An Yizhu was assigned to the project team because of her talent—it wasn’t an order but an invitation.
For the first time in her life, Yu Guqiu felt the urge to blame herself for her poor communication skills.
She was accustomed to using the most concise language at work, only expressing emotions when in a good mood, without considering whether others needed emotional feedback.
“The screenwriting department’s Team Leader Liao praised you highly.” Yu Guqiu attempted.
An Yizhu nodded. “You’ve said that before.”
An Yizhu wasn’t insecure about her drawing skills, so her expression was full of pride. “My storyboarding is indeed good. That’s why Jing Zuo and the two juniors asked me to submit the script along with the storyboards.”
“Mm. The animation department’s Team Leader Ma also praised your original animation drawings.” Yu Guqiu continued.
An Yizhu turned to look at her.
She sensed that Yu Guqiu was genuinely trying hard to compliment her.
But she still hadn’t gotten the answer she wanted.
Yet, what answer did she even want?
An Yizhu sighed. It was her own unrequited love—did she expect the object of her affection to comfort her, or even confess?
How could that be possible?
An Yizhu laughed self-deprecatingly.
At her own wishful thinking.
And her own powerlessness.
There was another option: confessing herself.
Since it was her who liked Yu Guqiu, she should be the one to take the initiative. But now, none of it mattered.
Instead, she seemed like a petulant child, leveraging Yu Guqiu’s need for her to reset the terms of their deal, placing “confession” and “favoritism” on opposite ends of the scale.
Should she force the other party to compromise?
No matter how upset she was, An Yizhu couldn’t bring herself to do such a thing.
“Mm, I’ll keep working hard on my drawings. Don’t worry. I haven’t finished my tasks for the animation department yet, so I’ll go back to drawing now. You must be tired from your business trip—rest well today.” Smiling, An Yizhu walked back to her room, her words polite and distant.
Yu Guqiu saw An Yizhu leave with a smile.
The compliments seemed to have worked.
But something still felt off.
This unease didn’t stem entirely from An Yizhu’s mood swings—it came from within herself.
An Yizhu didn’t realize that her fluctuating emotions had also deeply affected Yu Guqiu.
All she could do now was throw herself into work to distract herself.
Later, An Yizhu didn’t even know what time she had finished her drafts before falling asleep at her desk.
When she woke up the next morning, it was already past 10 a.m.
As she stood, her back ached, and her nose felt stuffy—she was coming down with a cold.
By the time An Yizhu left her room, Yu Guqiu was long gone.
Only a breakfast and a note remained on the table.
The note bore elegant yet bold handwriting—Yu Guqiu’s message:
Today, Jiang University will announce the collaboration plan between Guangying Xinghui and the Writing Department.
A work-related note.
What was the point of leaving a note about work?!
She’d gotten her hopes up for nothing.
Despite modern communication methods, Yu Guqiu had still chosen to write a handwritten note.
An Yizhu felt annoyed.
But her body acted honestly, carefully tucking the note away in her room—placing it alongside the previous one.
She indulged in these small actions.
Because she knew that even if she stopped herself now, the only one suffering would be herself.
Until she let go of these feelings, nothing she did would surprise her—even if it seemed foolish in hindsight, she couldn’t help it.
Buzz—
Her phone vibrated with several incoming messages.
They were urgent pleas from her schoolmates:
“Roomie, when are you coming to campus? SOS!!”
“Senior, help!! We’re desperate!”
“Senior, the three of us really can’t handle this alone.”
Jing Zuo and the two juniors were completely overwhelmed.
Previously, at Jiangcheng University, the Drama Club and Film Club were backed by two major powerhouses, making them highly sought-after.
For most people, the Yu Group and Guangying Xinghui Media held similar prestige.
And in recent days, Guangying had partnered with the university to launch a recruitment campaign open to the public, revitalizing the entire screenwriting community.
The impact was undeniable.
Seeing the desperate messages, An Yizhu quickly ate her meal, popped a cold pill as a precaution, and hurried out the door.
Meanwhile—
Yu Guqiu, who had left early, wasn’t at the group company or the media company.
She was in Si Ruxin’s office.
A space designed with antique hardwood as the primary element—a style distinctly Si Ruxin’s.
Though her family was in logistics, her own studio focused solely on design.
At that moment, the enchanting Si Ruxin sat gracefully on a pearwood armchair, dressed in a form-fitting, modernized Hanfu-inspired outfit.
“I truly never thought you’d actually come to me for help one day.” Si Ruxin said with her usual confident, smug tone, not bothering to spare Yu Guqiu any face.
Yu Guqiu wasn’t bothered by the lack of courtesy. Instead, she felt that as long as Si Ruxin could help, her attitude was a sign of willingness.
“Yes. After all, I’m not well-versed in the arts. You’re the expert.” Yu Guqiu replied.
Si Ruxin, pleased by the praise, smirked. “Ohoho, have you learned some sweet-talking from your little Alpha? You’re so much better at speaking now.”
But the words struck a nerve.
Seeing Yu Guqiu suddenly fall silent, Si Ruxin grew curious.
“What’s wrong? Are you upset about your father?”
It didn’t even occur to her that Yu Guqiu’s mood might be due to marital issues.
She simply assumed Yu Guqiu was troubled by recently handing over the executive authority of the Yu Group to Meng Jiagao.
Yu Guqiu froze for a moment.
Right—there were so many internal and external crises right now.
An Yizhu’s matter was the least of them. After all, given An Yizhu’s character, she would honor their two-year contract no matter what.
Yet, amid all these overwhelming problems, her mind was fixated on this smallest of issues.
Her brain, usually adept at multitasking, had narrowed down to a single track—An Yizhu.
“Wait, that reaction… could it actually be because of your little Alpha?” Si Ruxin studied the usually icy beauty, now lost in thought mid-conversation, her expression shifting unpredictably. Finally, she arrived at this bold conjecture.
Yu Guqiu frowned.
She didn’t deny it. Instead, she nodded.
Si Ruxin’s eyes widened.
How rare!
How fascinating!
Yu Guqiu hadn’t come to exploit her free labor today—she’d brought a juicy piece of gossip instead.
“Do tell, what’s going on?” Si Ruxin even grabbed a handful of sweet dried grapes from the side, ready to enjoy the drama.
Seeing Si Ruxin’s eager, gossipy demeanor, Yu Guqiu decided to steer the conversation back to the original topic. “First, tell me if you have a way to contact this painter.”
Si Ruxin tapped her keyboard twice, then swiveled the screen toward Yu Guqiu. “Oh, this trivial matter? It’s already being looked into. Since you’ve come to me for help, you should trust my information network, no?”
The screen displayed three messages sent to three different contacts, requesting updates as soon as they had leads.
Yu Guqiu had no choice but to trust her—and endure her nosy stare.
Si Ruxin couldn’t wait. “Could it be that your little Alpha finally got fed up with your icy demeanor and decided to quit?”
Yu Guqiu’s heart sank.
But she quickly dismissed the idea.
If that were the case, An Yizhu wouldn’t have acted hostile toward Ji Lu.
“She might like me too much.” Yu Guqiu answered.
“…” The dried grapes in Si Ruxin’s hand suddenly tasted sour.
What the—
Was this woman here to flaunt her relationship?
How could someone be like this?
Si Ruxin wasn’t one to hold back. After mentally drafting her rant, she blurted out, “You! Using this as an excuse to show off your love life? I never expected this from you! Get out of here—I don’t want to hear it!”
Yu Guqiu massaged her temples.
As expected, this matter was hard to explain to Si Ruxin.
But Si Ruxin was sharp. From Yu Guqiu’s reaction, she gleaned more.
“Hmm… You really do seem troubled by this. What, is your little Alpha’s infatuation with you… interfering with your work?”
Given her understanding of Yu Guqiu, this was the only explanation she could think of.
Yu Guqiu considered it. That phrasing seemed closer to her current thoughts.
“Yes.”
“So, you giving up control of the Yu Group was because of her?”
As she asked, Si Ruxin even wanted to scold Yu Guqiu—“No longer attending morning court for a beauty.”
That was the Yu Group she’d painstakingly managed for years!
But Yu Guqiu shook her head. “That was part of the plan.”
“Then… your screenwriter recruitment isn’t going smoothly?” Si Ruxin had heard bits about this being Yu Guqiu’s current main task.
Yu Guqiu shook her head again. “It’s going very well. In fact, she played a key role in securing a crucial team member. The follow-up screenwriter training program will also be conducted at Jiangcheng University, in her roommate’s club.”
Si Ruxin was baffled. “Then she hasn’t affected your work at all! From the sound of it, she’s excelled at every task—unlike some useless live-in Alphas who just mooch off their Omegas.”
Yu Guqiu agreed. “She’s not useless. Even before anyone knew she was my wife, two department heads at Guangying praised her. She’s talented in art and has a keen eye for shot composition.”
Si Ruxin tilted her head and tossed the dried grapes back onto the plate. “Alright, that’s enough! Do you realize how long you’ve been gushing about your little Alpha? Is this why your work is suffering? Constantly thinking about her?”
“?!” Yu Guqiu froze.
Was… that it?
The fleeting look of confusion didn’t escape Si Ruxin, who pointed at her accusingly. “Wait, you actually think about your little Alpha all the time?”
Yu Guqiu reflected.
During her business trip, she had wondered how An Yizhu was doing at school and at Guangying.
That was why she’d called An Yizhu during the meeting.
She’d even come up with an excuse that, in hindsight, sounded utterly bizarre.
Si Ruxin narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. “I get it now! You’re done for, Yu Guqiu. The way you’re acting—rather than your little Alpha being too into you, it’s more like you’re too into her.”
Yu Guqiu’s heart raced uncontrollably. She felt like she was one step closer to an unknown answer.
“Is that so?” She needed Si Ruxin’s further analysis.
“Absolutely. You’ve never been in a relationship, and you’ve never even been interested in romance stories.” Si Ruxin said, shedding all pretense of elegance and relaxing into a candid chat with her friend. “But think back—what were you like before? Forget about Omegas, Betas, or Alphas—you treated everyone, living or dead, the same!”
“Did I?” Yu Guqiu wasn’t entirely pleased with this exaggerated assessment.
Si Ruxin countered, “Do you want to hear this or not? If not, don’t ask.”
Yu Guqiu decided to listen without interrupting.
Si Ruxin was thrilled.
Normally, Yu Guqiu would listen indifferently, leaving her unsure if she was even paying attention.
But today, Yu Guqiu was definitely listening.
Hahaha!
Si Ruxin continued, “Now, think about the changes in yourself since your little Alpha appeared.”
Yu Guqiu answered without hesitation, “My pheromones stabilized.”
After all, she’d brought An Yizhu into the marriage to serve as a human suppressant.
Si Ruxin frowned. This cold, unromantic woman—aside from her beauty, what was so great about her? Why was An Yizhu so smitten?
She pressed on, “Your pheromones stabilized, so you should be more aware of your emotional fluctuations. How have your emotions been?”
Yu Guqiu let out a soft “Ah.”
She’d been so focused on how An Yizhu affected her pheromones that she hadn’t considered the reverse.
Right—An Yizhu primarily stabilized her pheromones, so where were these recent mood swings coming from?
“She heavily influences my emotions. When work isn’t going well, just having her nearby calms me. But when things are smooth, if she’s upset with me, I feel unsettled.” Yu Guqiu answered earnestly, as if in a therapy session.
Si Ruxin wriggled excitedly. “Oh my god, I’m totally shipping you two now. You’re completely in love without even realizing it! You’re head over heels for your little Alpha, and you don’t even know it!”
As Yu Guqiu listened to Si Ruxin’s analysis, a clear answer presented itself. Her face warmed. “Isn’t it just because of our 100% pheromone compatibility?”
“Yes, but! Physical attraction plus emotional attraction—isn’t that even better? Why do you people insist on separating the two? I’m joining your CP fan club today!” Si Ruxin declared, pulling out her phone.
Yu Guqiu pursed her lips but was momentarily distracted by the mention of a “CP fan club.”
“What’s a CP fan club?”
“You don’t know? After those negative posts about you two online, your PR team stepped in—I know that. But organic fans are the most powerful. Someone made a CP fan club for you two. There hasn’t been much new content lately, but plenty of people check in daily. Look… Wait a sec…” Si Ruxin paused before handing her phone to Yu Guqiu.
Yu Guqiu leaned in. “What’s wrong?”
As she skimmed the news summary on the screen, Si Ruxin carefully explained, “Seems like… your little Alpha is in trouble.”
Yu Guqiu immediately snatched the phone.
The trending hashtags in the CP fan club glared back at her:
#YuGuqiu’sWifeIdentityRevealed
#YuGroupCEO’sWifeIsActuallyAnOrphan
An Yizhu’s identity had been exposed!
They’d reached this stage so soon—who was behind it?
Countless possibilities flashed through Yu Guqiu’s mind.
After the previous smear campaign, she’d anticipated that the next step would be exposing An Yizhu’s true identity.
She just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly or at this timing.
It was both clever and foolish.
Clever because revealing An Yizhu’s identity would affect them.
Foolish because the impact now would be minimal—why bother?
Yu Guqiu didn’t know what the mastermind was planning, but as she scrolled further and saw a video clip, she slammed her hand on the desk.
The sudden noise startled Si Ruxin.
“Wait, hold on—this isn’t official news. It’s just gossip accounts. No need to get so angry!” Si Ruxin tried to calm her.
But Yu Guqiu tossed the phone back to her.
“Hey—!” Si Ruxin fumbled, and the phone clattered to the floor.
Luckily, it wasn’t damaged.
The video kept replaying.
On Jiangcheng University’s lawn, where the Writing Club’s recruitment was already bustling, several photos of Yu Guqiu and An Yizhu suddenly surfaced online—some even wedding photos.
An Yizhu’s identity as Mrs. Yu was instantly exposed, and her background—including her orphanage origins and status as a Jiangcheng University student—was dug up.
Though some details had leaked during the previous smear campaign, this time, with concrete evidence and more specifics, public curiosity reached a fever pitch.
The video showed pure chaos.
An Yizhu tried to leave but was too late.
A stampede broke out.
It wasn’t until security and police arrived that order was restored.
Several students were injured, including members of the Writing Club, all sent to the hospital.
“Tch, how did this happen?” Si Ruxin rewatched the video, sighing.
No wonder Yu Guqiu was frantic.
Just as the ice queen was finally melting, fate seemed determined to make life harder for this couple.
Ding—
A notification sounded from Si Ruxin’s computer.
She hurried back to her desk.
If she couldn’t help with the other matters, she’d at least fulfill Yu Guqiu’s original request.
……
Yu Guqiu left Si Ruxin’s company and got into the passenger seat, urging Xie Fang to drive straight to the hospital.
Xie Fang immediately complied.
But Yu Guqiu’s state terrified her.
Her face was pale, her fingers tapping anxiously on her phone—sending messages, making calls.
Xie Fang had never seen Yu Guqiu so flustered.
“What’s wrong, Miss?” Xie Fang guessed the answer but didn’t dare say it aloud.
The only thing that could rattle Yu Guqiu this much, she assumed, was Old Yu’s critical condition.
After her messages went unanswered, Yu Guqiu checked official updates.
Confirmed: A stampede had occurred at Jiangcheng University, leaving five seriously injured and twelve with minor injuries.
The nearest private hospital, operated by the Yu Group, had taken in the casualties.
This, at least, worked in Yu Guqiu’s favor.
When Xie Fang learned An Yizhu might have been caught in the stampede and hospitalized, she pressed the accelerator harder.
Soon, thanks to Xie Fang’s skilled driving, they reached the hospital.
Yu Guqiu used her employee badge to access the hospital’s internal elevator.
Xie Fang hurried in after her.
They arrived at the third-floor emergency ward.
The scene was chaotic.
Though reports mentioned only five serious injuries and twelve minor ones, over a dozen students with bruises and scrapes were already milling about.
The sight made Yu Guqiu’s mind go blank.
But she quickly grabbed a passing nurse.
The nurse recognized Yu Guqiu immediately and whispered, “President Yu, it’s quite chaotic here. It’s best not to stay long.”
Yu Guqiu had only one question: “Where is An Yizhu?”
The nurse’s eyes widened in realization, then she whispered, “Mrs. Yu should be on the eighth floor.”
The answer sent a chill down Yu Guqiu’s spine.
The eighth floor—the ICU and VIP wards.
She could only hope An Yizhu had been taken to the VIP ward as a courtesy.
Yu Guqiu and Xie Fang headed upstairs.
Unlike the chaos on the third floor, the eighth floor was as orderly as ever.
No one was running around the halls; the only sounds were machines and doctors discussing cases.
But the clinical noises only heightened Yu Guqiu’s unease.
She strode to the front desk. “Where is An Yizhu?”
The nurse jumped but quickly pointed down the hall upon recognizing the CEO. “Mrs. Yu just went that way.”
“!!!” Yu Guqiu’s bl00d ran cold.
Why the ICU?
What had happened to An Yizhu?
Xie Fang steadied Yu Guqiu, who swayed slightly. “President Yu, let’s… let’s go see first.”
“Mm.” Yu Guqiu forced herself to focus.
They walked toward the ICU.
The hallway was filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines and the murmured prayers of families.
Yu Guqiu couldn’t concentrate.
Then, she saw a white-sheeted gurney being wheeled past by two medical staff.
[Wait—when the nurse said “Mrs. Yu just went that way,” did she mean…?]
Yu Guqiu stared fixedly at the gurney, her breath coming in short gasps, as if she might stop breathing at any moment.
“An Yizhu.”
Unconsciously, she called out the name of the person she cared about most.
[I’m calling your name—will you appear, An Yizhu?]
Realizing her own thoughts, she whispered again, hoarsely.
“An Yizhu.”
“An Yizhu.”
“Huh?! Yu Guqiu, why are you here?”
An Yizhu’s voice!
Yu Guqiu, terrified it was a hallucination, whipped her head toward the sound.
An Yizhu stood in the hallway.
The ICU corridor—the heaviest atmosphere in the hospital—instantly brightened with her presence.
“An Yizhu, where were you?” Yu Guqiu strode toward her.
“I went to get medicine.” An Yizhu shrank back slightly, unsure why Yu Guqiu’s eyes were slightly red and brimming with anger.
“Are you hurt? Do you have a fever?” Yu Guqiu glanced at the bruise ointment and fever reducer, then began inspecting An Yizhu from head to toe, her chest tight with worry.
“No, no—the fever reducer is just a precaution. I had slight cold symptoms this morning, but I already took medicine, so the doctor gave me this just in case. The bruise ointment is for Jing Zuo—she was pushed and sprained her ankle.” An Yizhu explained slowly. “You must’ve heard about what happened at school, but don’t worry. The Writing Club’s recruitment was successful. Some students just got caught up in the accident.”
As she spoke, guilt crept in.
Everything had been fine until she showed up, and then her identity was exposed online, ruining everything.
Even Yu Guqiu—usually unflappable—was visibly distraught.
Her tailored suit was wrinkled, her usually impeccable post-business-trip hairstyle disheveled.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I…” An Yizhu began to apologize.
But Yu Guqiu pulled her into a hug. “What did you do wrong? As long as you’re safe, nothing else matters.”