Stepmom Alpha’s Guide to Raising Kids - Chapter 21

Lu Luozhu’s voice was just loud enough to be picked up by a live-streaming food blogger exploring the market.

Within half an hour, her words had already spread on Weibo.

“Holy sh1t, folks, I just stumbled upon some juicy gossip.”

“Didn’t people say Lu Luozhu couldn’t even freeload properly? But now it seems like she’s the one suffering.”

“What does she mean by ‘locking this canary in the basement, blindfolded and hands bound, before she behaves’???”

“I’m a VIP—let me hear the details!”

“Does Qi Zi really play that hard in private?”

“Maybe Lu Luozhu isn’t bad at freeloading—maybe Qi Zi is just too damn cruel (hurry up with the tea.jpg).”

“I refuse to believe my wife is like that (though I wouldn’t mind having another wife).”

The internet was buzzing, while Qian Qianqian stood opposite Lu Luozhu, looking utterly bewildered.

Qian Qianqian: “What did you just say?”

Lu Luozhu picked through the vegetable stall, finally selecting a nice bunch of sweet corn, planning to buy some ribs to make soup for Qi Zi.

Lu Luozhu: “I’m not well-behaved enough?”

Qian Qianqian was already tugging at her hair. “Is that even the issue here? You’re just trying to piss me off now. Teacher Qi provides for you, feeds you well, only asking you not to cause trouble and to take care of the kids at home. Why can’t you just listen? You’re in your twenties—are you still going through a rebellious phase?”

She was about to continue when a ray of sunlight caught Lu Luozhu’s loosely tied hair. Her butterfly-like lashes cast delicate shadows, her light gray eyes calm and smiling, devoid of the pettiness and scheming Qian Qianqian had expected. Instead, she radiated the kind of serene beauty only found in poetry.

Qian Qianqian: “…”

Grumbling, she snapped a quick photo and posted it to Lu Luozhu’s Weibo.

@LuLuozhu: My greatest joy every day is cooking for the one I love.

“Stepmom is stunning—now tell us more about the basement.”

“I used to hate Lu Luozhu, but this wicked yet foolish woman is just too beautiful.”

“Can anyone relate? Even my mom approves of the veggies Lu Luozhu picked.”

“Is Lu Luozhu really that pretty? Must be heavy Photoshop—unless you let me kiss her to confirm.”

“Are we really whitewashing her now??”

Unaware of the online storm, Lu Luozhu was busy haggling with the vendor.

“Six yuan a pound for cucumbers? Are they made of gold or silver?” She sifted through the pile, finally picking two relatively fresh ones with tiny yellow flowers still attached, deliberately choosing the pricklier ones—the more they stung, the fresher they were.

The vendor scowled at her bargaining. “These are homegrown. Don’t talk nonsense if you don’t know quality.”

Qian Qianqian opened her mouth, then closed it, silently stepping away from Lu Luozhu.

Lu Luozhu: “Homegrown? It’s almost Mid-Autumn Festival—since when is this cucumber season? Even at 3.5 yuan, you’d still profit off greenhouse produce.”

“Don’t assume I don’t know market prices just because I dress well and look good. Stop scamming young people.”

Vendor: “…”

In a daze, Qian Qianqian recorded the exchange and sent it to Qi Zi.

Was she the one losing it, or was the world?

Obsessed with money to the point of nearly being mistaken for taking out a nude loan, Lu Luozhu was actually haggling over two and a half yuan.

During a break in filming, Qi Zi opened her phone and saw this video clip.

The gentle yet radiant alpha had a small vegetable basket hanging from her elbow, filled with fresh tomatoes and greens. She held two cucumbers in her hand, bargaining with the vendor. Her beautiful eyes curved into crescents, but there was a hint of scrutiny in her gaze as she looked at the vendor. The ordinary cucumbers in her hand seemed like works of art.

The alpha’s fingers were exquisite.

The alpha seemed like a completely different person.

She used to disdain places like this—to be precise, the alpha only ever valued globally limited-edition items. Even her ingredients had to be airlifted from abroad for every meal.

She had been so refined, so picky and shallow.

But that version of her was never the “Little Bamboo” from Qi Zi’s memories.

“Teacher Qi, I’d like to rehearse with you and also ask for your advice on the script.”

A crisp female voice sounded behind Qi Zi.

Qi Zi turned her phone face down on the table, reverting to her usual stern expression.

Qi Xin was a newcomer in the crew, discovered by the director to play a minor but likable supporting role. Though her screen time wasn’t much, the character was charming enough to earn her a following once the movie was released.

Qi Zi flipped open the script in front of her without looking at her.

“I don’t have any scenes with you today, and I’m not obligated to mentor juniors.”

Qi Xin stood awkwardly in place. She wasn’t professionally trained—just a straightforward 19-year-old who had previously worked as a live streamer. Hearing people say she had potential in the entertainment industry, she took a shot in the dark and got an actor’s license. To her surprise, within less than two months, she caught the eye of a renowned director. After several auditions, though her acting was mediocre, her personality fit the role well enough, marking her as a promising young talent.

“Teacher Qi…”

Qi Xin wanted to say more, but Qi Zi’s assistant stepped in. “Sorry, Teacher Qi has a scene in five minutes and can’t talk right now.”

Blocked by the assistant, Qi Xin realized how stark the hierarchy was in the entertainment industry. Standing before Qi Zi, though barely half a meter apart, she felt an insurmountable chasm between them.

She had always been Qi Zi’s fan, watching her from the other side of the screen. Just being able to see her in person was enough.

“Wait!”

Qi Xin suddenly blurted out, “…I’m not Lu Luozhu’s fan, but I really like her personality in variety shows.”

Qi Zi lifted her gaze, her eyes devoid of warmth.

“What are you trying to say?”

Qi Xin stammered, “I think Lu Luozhu is a good person, and she’s doing well as a stepmother. I shouldn’t interfere in your family matters, but… could you at least not keep her locked in the basement anymore? And maybe don’t chain her up either? It’s… not right.”

Qi Zi: ???

Qi Zi’s assistant: ?!!!!

The crew members kept working, but their ears perked up.

……

Qian Qianqian drove Lu Luozhu back, impressed by her knife skills as she turned the ingredients into a delicious meal.

The corn and pork rib soup was delightfully light and sweet. Adding a few water chestnuts made the broth even richer, completely eliminating any greasy taste from the meat. The natural sweetness from the corn and water chestnuts made the soup base exceptionally clear and refreshing.

The cucumber had been cut into delicate “straw raincoat” slices. Qian Qianqian nearly dropped her jaw when she saw Lu Luozhu’s knife skills for the first time.

“Madam, you can cook too?”

“Don’t look at me like you’re watching a monkey typewriter. Cooking is nothing—as a gentle and virtuous golden canary like me, I can do all kinds of refined activities for self-cultivation. By the way, what’s this about Qi Zi going to a sanatorium?”

Qian Qianqian gave Lu Luozhu a strange look as she rambled on. If they had just married, Qian wouldn’t have been surprised by Lu’s ignorance. But after being married for so long, not knowing this was hard to justify.

“Teacher Qi has a congenital hormone disorder. She needs to go for rehabilitation every year. Otherwise, as temperatures drop, the gland stimulation will keep worsening. In worst-case scenarios, she might have to undergo gland removal surgery.”

“Is there no treatment?”

“There is.” Qian Qianqian took a sip of the soup and found it truly excellent—better than the health soups she’d ordered at Michelin-starred restaurants. “Teacher Qi has frequent and unpredictable heat cycles. She needs a highly compatible alpha who can mark her whenever needed.”