I Woke Up and Became an Alpha (GL) - Chapter 9

Song Yuran changing her top caught Cheng Qingqing’s attention. She turned to look at her and asked, “Oh. Yuran, why did you change your clothes?”

“Uh-huh,” Song Yuran responded. “The other one got wet, so I changed.”

She blinked, “Do these clothes look good?”

Cheng Qingqing looked her up and down, then shook her head: “No, they look a bit ugly.”

Song Yuran never expected her aesthetic sense to be so mercilessly dismissed. She asked, “What’s ugly about them?”

Cheng Qingqing pointed to her exposed elbow joint when she bent her arm, “They have holes! Are you still wearing them?”

“…” Song Yuran was so speechless she couldn’t say anything for a moment. In modern times, only someone from her grandmother’s generation would say such a thing.

But… Cheng Qingqing was only in her twenties.

Right, this was reality.

“I don’t believe it,” Song Yuran retorted, feeling indignant. Today, she was going to teach the other person a lesson in fashion. “Do you have scissors?”

“Yes.”

Cheng Qingqing handed her a utility knife. Song Yuran tested the sharpness of the scissors, then grabbed her jeans and cut them without hesitation.

One hole, two holes… appeared.

Besides the holes, she also cut the neat pant legs into something resembling fringes.

She then received Cheng Qingqing’s astonished gaze.

Ripped jeans had appeared in this world before, but unlike the extent of skin exposure now, they were mostly fake rips, with some threads sewn on the surface, and only briefly appeared on the market before disappearing.

Song Yuran’s actions attracted the attention of her surrounding colleagues, who were curious about her DIY ripped jeans. More and more people gathered to watch, and finally, even the manager from the office came out.

The people in the office instantly split into two factions. The conservatives felt that Song Yuran’s pants looked like beggar’s pants.

The progressives, however, thought Song Yuran’s idea was unique and that they would be very cool to wear in the summer. Having seen too many monotonous jeans, cutting them into ripped styles was innovative and personal.

Among them, the department’s two major figures each held a different view and argued fiercely.

The conservative faction, led by the manager, felt that Huason employees dressed like that would make people mistakenly believe the company’s treatment was poor and they couldn’t afford good pants.

The supervisor, on the other hand, believed in freedom of dress, and that even a leader shouldn’t interfere arbitrarily. Moreover, such ripped designs gave a refreshing impression. Perhaps they would become a future trend.

What Song Yuran didn’t expect was that the two leaders, who were originally engaged in “friendly discussion,” gradually raised their voices and eventually argued over a pair of jeans…

Both the manager and the supervisor were Alphas, and both had relatively strong personalities. As they argued, the atmosphere in the office changed.

Song Yuran wasn’t sure why some colleagues showed pained and suppressed expressions, while others’ complexions gradually became flushed.

This scene was too strange…

It wasn’t until the two leaders fixed their gaze on her that Song Yuran belatedly realized why everyone around them was reacting that way.

It was pheromone suppression!

When Alphas’ emotions fluctuate greatly, they release pheromones to suppress others. Colleagues who can smell pheromones will unconsciously react accordingly to the pheromones.

But she couldn’t smell them! What kind of reaction should she make???

Feeling the atmosphere growing more and more wrong, and with more and more eyes on her, she knew this wouldn’t do. It would expose the fact that she couldn’t smell pheromones. Song Yuran’s mind raced, trying to think of a solution.

The next second—she supported her forehead with one hand, feigning weakness.

If she had a handkerchief, she could have performed a full Lin Daiyu act on the spot.

Song Yuran’s reaction surprised the arguing manager and supervisor, who both had huge question marks on their faces and looked a bit stunned.

Seeing their reaction, Song Yuran knew she had bet on the wrong horse. She could only bite the bullet and divert their attention. “Um, Manager, Supervisor, I think what you both said makes a lot of sense.”

With the waters calmed, both faction leaders were satisfied.

The small interlude in the office left Song Yuran a little scared. After much thought, she decided she had to resign sooner rather than later. Who knew when she would finally be able to smell pheromones?

But… she didn’t dare go see Huo Qingzhi.

Several days passed like this, and the week finally turned into the weekend. Song Yuran’s strained nerves briefly relaxed from work.

It was a rare weekend, and she didn’t stay home. Instead, she went out to delve deeper into the conditions of this world.

Song Yuran was accustomed to electronic payments and one-click online shopping delivered to her door, but in this world, electronic payments had only just begun to spread, and many merchants hadn’t even enabled them, let alone e-commerce or online shopping.

For example, right now, when Song Yuran went to check out, she felt her pocket and realized… she didn’t have her wallet.

“Can I pay with my phone?”

The cashier smiled apologetically: “We don’t have electronic payment enabled yet.”

“…”

With no other option, Song Yuran could only put the box of mints back on the shelf and leave the mall empty-handed.

Coming out of the ground floor entrance, there was a large plaza, bustling with people on the weekend. Song Yuran looked at the bustling scene, momentarily lost in thought.

She felt confused about her future.

Given her current predicament, she wasn’t sure if she could successfully escape the original plotline.

Of course, the original cannon fodder was sent to prison for leaking commercial secrets. As a normal person, Song Yuran naturally wouldn’t knowingly break the law. She was just afraid that even if she avoided this pitfall, other events would occur, ultimately leading to a tragic end.

She let out a soft sigh. For a moment, aimless, she simply walked to a shady spot under a tree to cool off. Feeling a bit tired from standing, she simply squatted down, resting her face in her hands and looking up at the sky.

The sound of a erhu next to her interrupted her thoughts. Song Yuran turned her head and saw a shabbily dressed vagrant playing the erhu, with a bowl placed in front of him.

He was playing quite cheerfully. Song Yuran wanted to give him some coins, but when she checked her pocket, she realized she had no loose change.

As Song Yuran withdrew her hand, something suddenly fell in front of her, followed by the sound of coins hitting the ground.

Clink—the coin dropped in front of her, spinning a few times before settling.

“Tsk, so young and not working, out here begging.” The old lady who dropped the coin said this.

“???”

Song Yuran shot up from the ground. Had she really looked that much like a beggar just from resting for a moment???

But the old lady had already walked away. Song Yuran, utterly helpless, could only pick up the coin and put it in the vagrant’s bowl.

As soon as she put it down, the erhu music abruptly stopped. She heard the vagrant say, “Little girl, you should keep this money for yourself.” The vagrant said, his gaze falling on her “ragged” clothes, and sincerely added, “Sew up the holes in your pants so you don’t catch a cold. It’s easy to get old man’s cold legs when you’re older.”

Song Yuran was speechless.

She was wearing the DIY ripped jeans outfit from that day, and her top was also a design by Huo Qingzhi. Later, she had deliberately refined the rips in her pants. When she squatted down, her rounded knees peeked out from the rips, and combined with the large open design at the elbow joints of her top, she was basically wearing no complete piece of fabric.

The upside was that it was cool.

But even if she was dressed shabbily, why would she be mistaken for a beggar?! When ripped jeans were popular before, she never saw people react so exaggeratedly! Song Yuran was both speechless and helpless. Finally, she stamped her foot and decided to leave the plaza.

“Miss, please wait a moment!”

As she walked, someone followed her from behind. By the voice, it was a man. Song Yuran instinctively thought it was someone handing out small advertising cards, so she quickened her pace.

The person behind her also sped up, eventually breaking into a light jog, running for over ten meters.

“I’m not a bad guy, don’t run!”

“Of course I’ll run if you chase me!” Song Yuran turned her head, secretly cursing her bad luck today. First, she was mistaken for a beggar, and now she was being chased by a promoter.

“I’m chasing you because you’re running!” The person’s bag on his shoulder looked quite heavy, yet he kept pursuing her. He then remembered to introduce himself: “Don’t worry, I’m not a bad guy. I’m a street photographer, and I’d like to invite you to take some photos!”

Song Yuran abruptly stopped. The photographer, caught off guard, nearly ran into her but managed to brake just in time.

“What did you say? You want to photograph me?” Song Yuran knew about street photography; it was about finding stylishly dressed passersby to photograph and then publishing the photos online or in magazines.

“Yes.” The photographer wiped some sweat and quickly pulled out a business card: “I’m Li Tianming, a photographer for the fashion section of Fashion Bazer magazine.”

“Oh.” Song Yuran glanced at it. The name of the person in front of her wasn’t important; what mattered was that he, unlike those who didn’t recognize talent, was able to discover her golden potential!

She looked at Li Tianming, who was half a head shorter than her and looked very young, probably in his early twenties.

Sure enough, only peers understood appreciation. She asked with a smile, “Xiao Li. You can photograph me, but tell me why.”

“I’ve never seen such peculiar clothing. Ripped jeans have appeared on the market before, but none were as exaggerated as yours. It feels amazing to see them now,” Li Tianming said with a sincere expression.

“…” This blunt statement made Song Yuran’s lips twitch. “I bet you’re a temporary worker the magazine hired.”

“Not temporary; I’m still an intern. What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing.”

Never mind. A lean camel is still bigger than a horse. Song Yuran decided to accept Li Tianming’s invitation, thinking that maybe, with his photos, she could directly lead a new trend.

—But when she saw the photos Li Tianming took of her, she felt the idea of leading a trend was somewhat out of reach.

“With your skills, no wonder you’re still an intern.”

Li Tianming scratched his head, a little embarrassed. “If you’re not satisfied, I can retake them.”

Song Yuran sighed. To achieve the best effect, she had no choice but to teach him how to frame the shots.

Li Tianming’s photos weren’t ugly, but they were very ordinary. They didn’t highlight any of her advantages.

“This angle makes the legs look longer… and lighting is also very important. Earlier, the direction was backlit…”

After a long while of adjustments, Song Yuran was finally satisfied and agreed to let him submit her photos for the magazine’s next issue.

Finally, she added Li Tianming as a friend, and he even bought her a coffee.

While waiting for their drinks to be made, Song Yuran thought for a moment and asked, “Do you know ‘Jian Ai’?”

“?” Li Tianming’s eyes showed clear confusion. “Is that a book?”

“It’s a women’s clothing brand.”

“I’m not bragging, but our Fashion Bazer is a fashion barometer. I remember every brand that’s been featured in our magazine,” Li Tianming said tactfully. “I haven’t heard of ‘Jian Ai’ in our office.”

It seemed that Jian Ai was indeed as described in the original novel: it was almost a national brand when Huo Qingzhi’s parents were alive, but after their accidental deaths, Huo Qingzhi’s uncle, Huo Yuandong, managed it, and the brand plummeted from there.

“I almost forgot,” Li Tianming quickly said. “For street photos, models can choose whether or not to reveal the name of the brand they’re wearing.”

Song Yuran thought about it. Her top was indeed from Huo Qingzhi, but it wasn’t on the market and was even a discarded design. Publishing it under Jian Ai might not be appropriate and would require Huo Qingzhi’s consent.

Besides, she wasn’t sure if this street photo would even make a splash. She shook her head and said, “Let’s not write it for now.”