Has The Live-in Alpha Stepped Up - Chapter 55
55: Who Likes Whom More
Yu Guqiu followed An Yizhu upstairs.
An Yizhu was the first to reach the second floor, standing in the corridor and looking down at the children playing below.
She couldn’t help but recall the scene from earlier.
“They kept calling me ‘sister, sister’—so adorable.”
“Mhm, yeah. They all came running up shouting ‘sister’—couldn’t be cuter. Unlike some people.” Yu Guqiu replied, her tone initially seeming perfunctory but then carrying a hint of implication.
An Yizhu didn’t need to think hard.
She had also called Yu Guqiu “sister” before, but that moment was something she hadn’t dared revisit for a long time.
Later, though, the most common way she addressed Yu Guqiu was by her full name. Then came “Guqiu,” “Xiao Qiu,” “Boss,” even “wife”—but never “sister” again.
That title seemed to hold a peculiar charm.
The person being called always seemed delighted.
But now, using it to address Yu Guqiu again felt a little embarrassing.
Seeing An Yizhu avert her gaze guiltily, Yu Guqiu decided not to tease her further.
She walked seriously through every room on the second floor.
These long-unused classrooms had been meticulously cleaned and gradually repurposed, stirring a sense of emotion in Yu Guqiu’s heart.
This place had originally been built for the children of Yuhe Pharmaceutical employees who didn’t have local residency permits, providing them a convenient place to study.
Yu Guqiu had played here as a child too. Back then, small-class systems were in place, with many children across all six grade levels.
It was also the peak period for Yuhe Pharmaceutical’s workforce.
This compound felt like a companion to Yuhe Group, witnessing its rise to prosperity and then its decline.
Now, revitalized with new energy, perhaps it also symbolized Yuhe Group’s rebirth.
An Yizhu walked alongside Yu Guqiu through the corridor, gradually slowing her pace.
Life had been too hectic lately, everything moving too fast.
Even during her last visit to the compound, Yu Guqiu hadn’t had the chance to look around. Now, as they wandered the second floor, it was clear she was reminiscing.
An Yizhu lowered her head, looking at their intertwined hands.
As they passed classroom after classroom, their reflections appeared in the spotless windowpanes.
A scene like this—strolling hand in hand through the compound—was something An Yizhu wouldn’t have dared imagine before.
Now, she only wished this path would never end.
Though the corridor was long, it eventually reached its conclusion.
Fortunately, the end wasn’t just anywhere—it was her favorite art studio.
The distinct scent of paint wafted out as they entered.
Yu Guqiu followed her inside, taking in the carefully arranged space.
It was clear a lot of thought had gone into it.
A large suite had been dedicated to the studio.
The entrance led to a spacious room with only two ventilation windows, both covered by thick curtains—ideal for storing materials.
Inside was a smaller room, where even a slightly ajar door let in ample sunlight.
Though An Yizhu’s studio was at the far end of the corridor, tucked into a corner, it was a sunlit room with windows on two sides.
Yu Guqiu couldn’t help but remark, “Mom An really dotes on you. Every little thing on the list, she made sure to put in your studio.”
An Yizhu nodded. “Of course! Isn’t it natural for Mom An to treat me well? Heh, if you’re jealous, you can always add another studio for me at home.”
Jealousy was naturally out of the question.
Yu Guqiu didn’t think of herself as the type to get jealous over something like this.
But the idea of setting up a studio at home did make her seriously consider it.
Perhaps it was time to bring up redecorating.
An Yizhu’s talent shouldn’t go to waste, and commuting to the compound wasn’t practical. Having everything at home would be the best solution.
But Yu Guqiu kept these thoughts to herself.
Seeing Yu Guqiu’s silence, An Yizhu didn’t mind and continued, “Actually, this studio isn’t just for me. I promised Mom An I’d come back to teach the kids painting when I have time—I just haven’t been free yet.”
Yu Guqiu responded naturally, “Once things settle down, I’ll come with you when I’m free too. I’d like to pick up painting again. Back then, Grandma Ai Qi always told me I had talent and should keep learning.”
An Yizhu was pleasantly surprised.
Perhaps this was related to reconnecting with the Ai family.
“If you want to paint, we can do it right now.” An Yizhu said excitedly. “There shouldn’t be anything else going on today. Today…”
She searched for the right words.
Today could be treated as a date.
Before she could finish, Yu Guqiu agreed, “Sure.”
An Yizhu hadn’t expected Yu Guqiu to agree so readily.
Delighted, she nudged Yu Guqiu’s shoulders, guiding her further inside. “Come on, I’ll take you to the smaller room!”
As they passed rows of neatly organized shelves in the narrow aisle, An Yizhu enthusiastically introduced various brands of paint and brushes as if showcasing treasures.
Though Yu Guqiu had been the one to compile the list and arrange for the supplies, it had been so long since she’d engaged with this world that she could only listen in a daze.
She let An Yizhu chatter away.
Even for An Yizhu, this level of excitement was rare.
It was clear how much she loved painting.
In comparison, the screenwriting major An Yizhu had pursued at Jiangcheng University seemed almost like an afterthought.
Since they’d met, An Yizhu had never mentioned it voluntarily.
Even her entry into the screenwriting department at Guangying Xinghui Media had been arranged by Yu Guqiu. And after joining, An Yizhu had effortlessly been poached by the animation department.
Now, her work in the screenwriting department mainly involved storyboarding.
Almost everything revolved around painting.
An Yizhu hadn’t systematically studied painting, likely due to financial constraints.
Pursuing art required significant resources.
Sometimes, even money couldn’t guarantee success.
So it was understandable.
But if that was the case, why had she chosen screenwriting in the first place?
From a purely practical standpoint, screenwriting wasn’t as employable or lucrative as many STEM fields.
It was even one of the more competitive majors at Jiangcheng University.
Yu Guqiu’s old habit resurfaced, leading her down a rabbit hole of questions.
The more she thought, the more doubts arose.
But though she scrutinized An Yizhu, she didn’t voice them.
Asking these questions to someone who’d “lost their memory” would yield no answers.
Unaware of Yu Guqiu’s thoughts, An Yizhu simply guided her to a seat.
Only after sitting did Yu Guqiu ask, “Was painting your childhood dream?”
An Yizhu nodded. “Yeah.”
But she also knew the original An Yizhu might not have felt the same, so she added with a smile, “But dreams are like socks—sometimes one goes missing without you noticing.”
Yu Guqiu couldn’t accept that analogy. “If you organize them properly, they won’t disappear.”
An Yizhu grinned. “Exactly. So now that I’ve sorted things out, the ‘painting’ socks are still firmly on my feet.”
Though the metaphor was odd, Yu Guqiu reluctantly accepted it.
An Yizhu had Yu Guqiu sit in her usual spot while she fetched another easel and stool from outside.
Though An Yizhu called it the “smaller room,” it was spacious enough to comfortably accommodate two sets of equipment.
Yu Guqiu watched as An Yizhu bustled about.
Even the palette and brushes in her hands were handed to her by An Yizhu.
It was full-service treatment.
Once seated, An Yizhu pondered, “What should we paint?”
Yu Guqiu stared at the blank canvas, flashes of An Yizhu flickering through her mind.
She pursed her lips, an idea forming. “How about we paint each other?”
An Yizhu couldn’t suppress her smile.
What kind of cute couple’s game was this?
When Yu Guqiu didn’t hear a response, she glanced over. “Or do you have another idea?”
“No, no, your suggestion is great. We can paint each other—the moment that left the deepest impression.” An Yizhu added details to the “paint each other” theme.
With that, she started painting.
For her, painting came effortlessly.
Especially when it involved two things she loved: painting and Yu Guqiu.
Now, combining them to paint the Yu Guqiu she adored, she didn’t even need a rough sketch. Her mental draft was enough to guide her brush.
In contrast, Yu Guqiu held her brush, smiling faintly.
She’d had some foundational skills as a child, but years of neglect had left her unsure where to start.
Right now, using equipment to vaporize these pigments into a color spectrum would’ve been easier.
Her impulsive suggestion had backfired, becoming her own challenge.
But she knew she’d proposed it because a vivid image lingered in her mind.
Yu Guqiu wasn’t sure she could perfectly replicate it, but she tried, mixing two bright colors first to outline a draft on the canvas.
An Yizhu’s hand moved swiftly, completing the first layer quickly.
She leaned back slightly, peering over the canvas at Yu Guqiu across from her.
The easel obscured half of Yu Guqiu’s figure, leaving only her legs visible below.
Her toes tapped lightly against the floor, keeping an inaudible rhythm.
Whatever melody played in Yu Guqiu’s heart, her mood was clearly good.
An Yizhu’s mood was equally buoyant. She gazed out the window.
This level of happiness was something she’d never dared dream of before, yet now it felt effortlessly within reach.
So much so that she feared it might vanish, wanting to cling to it tightly.
“Hmm…” Yu Guqiu hesitated, emitting a soft sound.
An Yizhu immediately stood and approached.
Yu Guqiu’s canvas was clean and precise, much like her personality.
The foundational skills from her childhood were solid.
With a few simple strokes, she’d sketched a window.
Outside the window was a street corner, a tree trunk obscuring a quarter of the frame. Behind the trunk was a silhouette.
Yu Guqiu wasn’t skilled at painting faces, so it was left blank—but since the figure stood in the shade, it didn’t look unnatural.
The person beneath the tree held out a hand.
A leaf rested on their palm.
An Yizhu paused. “Is this… me?”
Yu Guqiu had noticed An Yizhu’s approach and nodded. “Mhm. If it doesn’t look like you, it’s because I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to continue.”
An Yizhu smiled and extended a hand. “If you don’t mind, I can help touch it up.”
Yu Guqiu didn’t object, handing over the brush.
She wanted to see the painting completed, and doing it herself seemed unlikely.
An Yizhu took the brush, studying the canvas. “Is this me from your dream?”
Yu Guqiu turned to her and shook her head.
It wasn’t a dream.
Of all the things that had happened that day, this moment had left the deepest impression.
An Yizhu continued examining it.
Yu Guqiu hadn’t considered composition, rendering the scene realistically.
“Was I… playing with the leaves?” An Yizhu found it amusing, bending down to start refining the leaves.
“Not leaves. It was the tree’s shadow—warm shadow.” Yu Guqiu was certain, though she hadn’t felt the warmth herself. “You were smiling, your little canine tooth showing.”
Yu Guqiu hoped An Yizhu could capture that expression.
But the image in her mind was so vivid she didn’t know how to articulate it further.
She could sense the warmth of the shadows in An Yizhu’s hands because her smile had illuminated the entire scene.
The car’s rear window had tinting, but sunlight still brightened the frame.
An Yizhu’s hand hovered over the canvas, adding a few strokes. But Yu Guqiu’s vivid description made the warmth of the light and shadows seem to bloom anew under her fingertips.
Her grip tightened, astonished that mere words could have such power.
She turned to Yu Guqiu.
“Yu Guqiu, you…” For a moment, An Yizhu was at a loss.
Because she remembered this moment.
Though it hadn’t been long ago, it felt like a lifetime.
It was when she’d first arrived in this world, reveling in the freedom of walking unrestrained.
She’d felt the wind, the sunlight.
She hadn’t realized Yu Guqiu had been watching, imprinting the scene deeply in her mind.
An Yizhu hadn’t known Yu Guqiu was observing her then.
Yu Guqiu must have been in the car.
The window frame in the painting was the rear car window.
The suburban road hadn’t been widened, and the car had stopped at an intersection due to a red light.
That was when Yu Guqiu had seen her, grinning foolishly under the tree.
In her mind, An Yizhu reconstructed the scene from Yu Guqiu’s perspective.
A fleeting moment at a red light, yet Yu Guqiu had remembered it till now.
Wasn’t that a form of love at first sight?
Perhaps this painting was Yu Guqiu’s response to her confession.
The thought made An Yizhu smile. Suddenly, she felt no need to ask anything further.
Yu Guqiu watched as An Yizhu’s smile widened, her little canine tooth peeking out—just like in her memory.
Yu Guqiu picked up her phone.
Click.
She snapped a photo of An Yizhu.
An Yizhu, who’d just finished refining the shadows on the canvas, froze at the sound.
Yu Guqiu showed her the picture. “Your expression was something like this. You can use it as reference.”
An Yizhu stared at the image of herself grinning goofily from an unflattering angle and grimaced. “So ugly… Yu Guqiu, did you have to take such an awful photo? I’m not putting this expression on the canvas, and you’d better delete it, thanks!”
If this was the face that had inspired love at first sight, then it must’ve been true love!
Yu Guqiu hadn’t expected this reaction. She glanced at the photo again.
An Yizhu’s smile was dopey but vibrant, her little tooth adorable—though the angle also highlighted her double chin.
“Pfft.” Yu Guqiu couldn’t help but laugh.
She hadn’t even noticed earlier, too focused on the cuteness.
After all the good food at home lately, An Yizhu had clearly gained weight since their first meeting.
“You’ve plumped up quite a bit.” Yu Guqiu remarked, voicing her thoughts.
“Ahhh!! Yu Guqiu!!! You’re calling me fat!” An Yizhu wailed.
Though she’d never been one to idolize extreme thinness and had always aimed to keep them both healthy, the results seemed more obvious on her.
And now her crush was pointing it out!
It stung.
She lunged for Yu Guqiu’s phone—that monstrosity had to go!
Yu Guqiu, seeing An Yizhu’s grab, raised her arm.
She was starting to understand the appeal of couples keeping unflattering photos of each other.
So cute—why delete it?
A mischievous idea struck.
As payback for An Yizhu keeping childhood photos of her, she should set this as her lock screen.
Yu Guqiu tucked the phone behind her.
An Yizhu reached around, catching her wrist.
Yu Guqiu moved the phone further away, pulling An Yizhu’s hand along.
Click.
The screen locked.
An Yizhu had Yu Guqiu’s hand pinned against the wall.
She looked up, meeting Yu Guqiu’s amused gaze.
Their poses were absurd.
Both froze mid-motion.
Breaths mingled.
An Yizhu swallowed hard.
Yu Guqiu smelled wonderful.
Not in the pheromone sense—today, with those subdued, she could actually catch Yu Guqiu’s natural scent.
“You smell amazing,” An Yizhu murmured earnestly.
Yu Guqiu, seeing An Yizhu’s clear-eyed admiration, smiled. “Still not calling me ‘sister’?”
“…”
Flustered by the memory, An Yizhu’s cheeks burned. Yu Guqiu had her completely figured out.
In retaliation, she steeled herself and leaned in.
Want to hear “sister”?
“Sister.”
Softly.
Too embarrassed to speak louder.
To her, “sister” felt even more intimate than “wife.”
But the quietness only amplified its effect.
That tender, breathy “sister” sent Yu Guqiu’s heart soaring.
Yu Guqiu’s composure wavered, her pulse accelerating. She worried she might lose control.
But not now!
Yu Guqiu reined herself in with sheer willpower.
The intensity of happiness made her instinctively resist.
An Yizhu opened her mouth to press her advantage—
When a chill touched her waist.
“Ah!” An Yizhu yelped, recoiling.
She clutched her waist, where Yu Guqiu’s fingers had just been.
The audacity!
But as she turned, she saw Yu Guqiu looking equally stunned, flexing her fingertips.
The lingering warmth made Yu Guqiu want to reach out again.
An Yizhu was already darting away.
“How could you! I’m not helping you paint anymore—I’ll do my own thing.”
An Yizhu pouted, her tantrum at kindergarten levels.
Yu Guqiu snapped out of it, watching as An Yizhu retreated to her seat to work on the second layer.
With no idea how to proceed on her own canvas, Yu Guqiu wandered over.
An Yizhu’s painting was simple too: Yu Guqiu wearing glasses, reviewing documents on a tablet.
Though unfinished, the essence was unmistakable even in rough strokes.
An Yizhu had a gift for capturing Yu Guqiu’s aura with minimal lines.
Yu Guqiu studied the artist, confident and composed, glowing with focus.
She’d assumed An Yizhu’s speed was limited to digital tools.
Yet here, with traditional brushes, her mixing and application were just as swift.
Her strokes were so assured she didn’t even need sketches, replicating mental images flawlessly like a printer.
She added details—the metallic glint on the glasses’ frames, Yu Guqiu’s habitual finger-tapping against the screen.
The Yu Guqiu on canvas was diligent and radiant, exuding charm.
Even Yu Guqiu found herself falling for this version. It was clear the artist had poured deep affection into every detail.
An Yizhu noticed everything.
Her gaze never strayed, always fixed on Yu Guqiu, observing every tiny gesture and change.
A past comment of An Yizhu’s flashed through Yu Guqiu’s mind:
[Not the kind of liking where an Alpha likes an Omega.]
In that moment, Yu Guqiu understood.
An Yizhu hadn’t been saying she lacked appeal as an Omega.
With 100% compatibility, how could she not be appealing?
It was that An Yizhu’s feelings beyond pheromones ran even deeper.
Like just now.
With no pheromones involved, An Yizhu’s gaze had been clear and bright—yet the adoration in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.
She wasn’t aggressive, just tenderly cherishing what she found precious.
In contrast, Yu Guqiu only indulged her own faint stirrings when pheromones took over.
Once rationality returned, she constantly measured the balance between them.
Who was leading the rhythm?
She couldn’t allow herself to surrender to unchecked emotions.
At her core, she still wanted to leverage An Yizhu’s advantages.
An Yizhu measured their distance purely with “liking.” Even when met with silence or misunderstanding, her abundance of affection let her take one step closer.
Yet she’d also retreat if Yu Guqiu’s wariness pushed her away.
Her affection was cautious.
A stark contrast to her usual bold, straightforward self.
Perhaps this was her way of showing… favoritism.
The thought made Yu Guqiu’s fingertips dig into her palms, aching in sync with her heart.
She couldn’t explain why.
Did she like An Yizhu?
Probably.
But who liked whom more?
Right now, it was undoubtedly An Yizhu who liked Yu Guqiu more.
Because her own feelings weren’t as pure.
There were too many things demanding her attention.
She couldn’t spare the same level of devotion yet.
Yu Guqiu frowned.
This sudden introspection agitated her, reminding her of Meng Jiagao.
As a child, she’d often wondered: If Mom loved Dad so much, did Dad truly love her back?
Was it because she shared that man’s bl00d that she, too, struggled with emotions?
Couldn’t even comprehend love properly.
“Huh? Why are you standing behind me?” Having finished the second layer, An Yizhu emerged from her focused trance and noticed Yu Guqiu.
One glance revealed the gloom in Yu Guqiu’s usually pale eyes, darkening them further.
An Yizhu’s chest tightened. She had no idea what weighed on Yu Guqiu’s mind.
Though everything had been going smoothly lately, the burdens in Yu Guqiu’s heart didn’t seem to lighten.
Perhaps she really should step up, as netizens suggested.
Force Yu Guqiu to share her thoughts instead of bearing them alone.
Yu Guqiu snapped out of it at An Yizhu’s voice, her lips curving slightly at the concern in An Yizhu’s expression.
At least she differed from him in one way.
Her heart…
Was still warm.
“Can’t I stand here?” Yu Guqiu countered.
Seeing Yu Guqiu’s gloom dissipate, An Yizhu relaxed.
“I paint really fast. The upside is quick results. The downside? Potential mess.” An Yizhu pointed at the paint stains on her clothes, even showing her smudged hands.
Yu Guqiu, ever the neat freak, instinctively took half a step back.
“Wow, that half-step hurts.” An Yizhu laughed, her face showing no trace of upset—only the glint of impending mischief.
Yu Guqiu, recognizing the shift, turned the half-step into a full one, then two.
“Don’t run!” An Yizhu gave chase, hand raised.
“Stay back.” Yu Guqiu circled the easel, warning her off.
“Don’t go~” An Yizhu mirrored her movements.
Two adults inexplicably launched into a childish game.
Sunlight streamed into the studio.
The spacious room held the simple joy of two grown-up kids.
Yu Guqiu stopped abruptly, turning.
An Yizhu’s hand was still raised, but instead of reaching for Yu Guqiu, she asked, “Why’d you stop?”
Yu Guqiu eyed her fingers. “I’m guessing it’s dry.”
“I’m guessing it’s not.” An Yizhu aimed her paint-tipped finger at Yu Guqiu’s cheek.
Yu Guqiu didn’t dodge, staring it down.
The red pigment on An Yizhu’s fingertip was meant for lighting effects.
She gently swiped it across Yu Guqiu’s cheek, leaving a streak.
“Oops, I win.” An Yizhu bit her lip, fighting a grin at the mark on Yu Guqiu’s face.
Before Yu Guqiu could react—
“Are you two done working? Lunch is ready.” An Lan walked in, addressing them as if they were children.
Her gaze landed on a little troublemaker and a painted kitten.
The troublemaker being An Yizhu was no surprise, but the kitten being Yu Guqiu made her smile.
“Wash up, then come down to eat.”
“…” Yu Guqiu understood the unspoken message.
Clearly, in An Lan’s eyes, she wasn’t cold-hearted.
And in An Yizhu’s eyes, even less so.
“An Yizhu!” Yu Guqiu turned.
But An Yizhu was already sprinting to the bathroom. “Washing up, then eating!”