Stepmom Alpha’s Guide to Raising Kids - Chapter 32

Thunderclouds rolled across the sky as Qi Zi curled into a tiny ball in her pitch-black room.

The blanket was pulled over her head, forming a large lump from the outside. Her body trembled incessantly, and with every distant rumble of thunder, she let out a small, startled gasp—as if the thunder wasn’t striking the clouds but her directly.

It was hard to imagine that the celebrated actress, who shone so brightly in public, could be reduced to a shivering mess by a storm. And with the hotel’s power outage, the tension had reached its peak.

Damn it!

Qi Zi cursed inwardly, clenching her fists and slamming them into the mattress in frustration—angry at her own helplessness and cowardice.

Just like when I was a kid. No progress at all.

Her pheromones, affected by her fear, filled the room with the faint, sweet scent of pear blossoms.

In the darkness, only the dim glow of her phone provided any light. Beneath it lay a slightly crumpled business card.

The card bore only two lines: the first was Lu Luozhu’s name, and the second, her personal phone number.

What a pretentious, frivolous alpha, Qi Zi thought, eyeing the black card with its gilded lettering. It looked professional at first glance, but the longer she stared, the more it resembled something from a high-end business KTV.

Her breathing was ragged as she gripped the card tightly, unwilling to show weakness.

Then—

A bolt of lightning split the sky, its jagged branches stretching like inverted roots across the sea.

Qi Zi jolted, breaking into a cold sweat. Her fingers fumbled as she hastily opened Lu Luozhu’s contact page.

Maybe she won’t come.

Why would she rush here in the rain?

A sliver of hope flickered in Qi Zi’s mind—It’d be better if Lu Luozhu didn’t care at all. Then she wouldn’t have to see me like this, weak and pathetic.

The phone emitted a dull dial tone.

Don’t pick up. Don’t pick up. Don’t pick up.

Her heartbeat pounded violently in her chest, deafening in the silent room.

Then—the call connected.

Qi Zi’s tongue stiffened. She suppressed the urge to hang up immediately, clearing her throat before speaking in the most composed tone she could muster.

“Hello, boss. Do you offer… those kinds of services? What are your rates? Do you do house calls?”

She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice, forcing it to remain steady.

Suddenly—another clap of thunder.

Qi Zi flinched, clutching the blanket to her chest like a cornered fox with its fur standing on end.

From the other end of the line came Lu Luozhu’s amused voice.

“What kind of services?”

Qi Zi’s mind went blank.

“If the guest doesn’t specify, how can I understand your needs?”

Qi Zi shut her eyes in despair, forcing the words out one by one.

“Come to my room. Now. I want to… leverage my position over you.”

Just as Qi Zi braced herself for Lu Luozhu to hang up, a faint chuckle came through the receiver.

Outside, the storm raged—but Lu Luozhu’s voice cut through all the noise, crisp and clear, as if the thunder didn’t exist at all.

“Understood. Please wait patiently, guest. I’ll be there shortly.”

A pause. Then—

“Just don’t lock the door. It’s raining, and I’d rather not play the part of a cat burglar tonight.”

The call ended, and Qi Zi obediently got up, clutching a bundle of blankets as she shuffled to the door, unlocking it from the inside.

Her long hair draped over the omega’s ears, her small, delicate face pale and bloodless. Every time a muffled thunderclap rumbled in the distance, her body would tremble in terror, her eyes wide as if staring at something horrifying in the darkness.

In the orphanage, Qi Zi had always been the most marginalized among the children.

The doctors said her gland had no possibility of recovery in the future—whether she developed into an alpha or omega, she would be permanently disabled. Even if she became a beta, she wouldn’t be as strong as a normal one.

No family wanted to adopt a disabled child.

Which meant no family was willing to donate to the orphanage for the sake of adopting Qi Zi.

At five years old, Qi Zi had been too hungry and ate one extra cookie from the limited ration. When the caretaker found out, she was dragged to the overgrown woods behind the orphanage and made to stand there as punishment, forced to reflect on her “mistake.”

The other children crowded at the windows upstairs, peering out and laughing cruelly.

“Eating so much—are you a pig? Hahahaha!”

The little girl stood by the woods until nightfall, as if everyone had forgotten her.

Then the typhoon hit. Torrential rain poured down, the buildings went dark, and the world was swallowed by blackness—nothing but the icy rain pelting her skin.

She could feel her body temperature slipping away, thread by thread.

The typhoon was so violent it could have swept her away.

Above her, the tree branches swayed wildly until one snapped, crashing onto the girl’s back.

It hurt. She was so hungry.

She didn’t know how long she stood there before a child shorter than her stretched a coat overhead and pulled her back inside.

“Are you stupid? Just because they told you to stand there, you did? You think if you froze to death out there, the director would feel guilty?”

When Lu Luozhu pushed open the door, what she saw was a large, blanket-covered lump curled up in the corner.

Ningning wasn’t even this scared of storms—she’d laugh and beg to go play in the rain before Qian Qianqian dragged her back by the collar.

Pathetic, really. Even worse than a child.

Lu Luozhu shook her head with a wry smile. When she noticed the power outage in one section of the hotel, she realized what was happening and rushed over, half her clothes soaked from the rain.

Qi Zi heard the lock click open and quietly lifted a corner of the blanket to peek out.

In the dark, she couldn’t see the person’s face, but she recognized the soothing scent of bergamot—Lu Luozhu’s scent.

It smelled nice.

It felt safe.

Lu Luozhu hauled Qi Zi up from where she was crouched in the corner, pretending to be a stool, and turned on her flashlight, aiming it at the ceiling to cast a dim glow over the room.

“Why are you crying? You’re a grown woman, scared of thunder and rain?”

Qi Zi, still wrapped in blankets, was placed on the bed. Her jet-black hair spilled like ink across the white sheets, making her look both pitiful and soft. Lu Luozhu couldn’t resist—she leaned down and kissed her patron sister’s forehead.

“Would your fans laugh at you if they knew you’re afraid of thunderstorms?”

Despite her teasing words, Lu Luozhu hung her rain-drenched coat on the rack and gently wrapped her arms around her skittish patron sister through the blankets.

After all, wasn’t that the duty of a canary?

A canary had to satisfy her employer—both physically and emotionally.

The warm body heat enveloped her, gradually calming the Omega’s terrified heart.

“Good girl, don’t be afraid.”

The despair, pain, anger, and numbness from her memories slowly faded away—the alpha’s pheromones had a miraculously soothing effect.

The more Qi Zi was marked, the more dependent she became on Lu Luozhu’s pheromones.

Perhaps when the alpha had cursed her for being dramatic during that rainy day six months ago before slamming the door, it was just a bad mood.

See how considerate she is now.

Lu Luozhu had no idea what her sugar mommy was thinking, but suddenly felt a series of soft kisses peppering her heated cheeks.

The sweet scent of pear-shaped petit fours was particularly delicious.

Lu Luozhu felt like she was being kissed by a tiny cake.

“All I did was stay with you through a stormy night, and Madam is so easily pleased.”

Lu Luozhu chuckled, “If this is all it takes to earn your voluntary kisses, I should rent a water sprayer. Every time I want intimacy, I’ll just turn it on and spray the windows. At this rate, your pheromone disorder would be cured within a month.”

Qi Zi: “…”

Wrapped up like a silkworm cocoon, Qi Zi wriggled around to turn her back to Lu Luozhu.

So, mean!

The alpha hadn’t changed at all.

Seeing Qi Zi didn’t need an embrace, Lu Luozhu didn’t force her. She leaned against the headboard and opened her phone to reply to messages.

The hotel’s internet was surprisingly stable despite the storm.

Qi Zi peeked quietly, blinking in the darkness at Lu Luozhu illuminated by the phone’s glow.

Though neither spoke nor made any further intimate gestures, Qi Zi felt an inexplicable sense of peace.

The rhythmic tapping of fingers on the phone screen created a comforting cadence. Qi Zi relaxed her curled-up body, subtly grasping a corner of Lu Luozhu’s clothes.

“Lu Luozhu, aren’t you afraid of thunder and lightning?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t look scared.”

Lu Luozhu rubbed her temples. “I’m terrified. Unicorn’s concert city got hit by a sudden typhoon—canceled last minute. The bakery business is struggling too. Several shop signs got blown away, no customers inside, and no delivery orders in this weather. Do you know how much money I’m losing?”

“I’m scared to death.”

The concern and curiosity vanished from Qi Zi’s face as she stared blankly.

Shouldn’t have asked.

So annoying!

Two hours after the hotel’s blackout, power was restored.

In an instant, the room lit up. Outside, the raging storm gradually subsided to a manageable drizzle.

“Are you leaving?”

Seeing the rain lighten, Lu Luozhu picked up the umbrella by the door, shaking off the water droplets.

“Ningning is still in the room. I should check on her.”

Qi Zi pressed her cheek into the pillow, half her face sinking into the soft down. A flicker of loneliness passed through her eyes.

Logically, she knew Ningning would be fine with the manager around, and that Lu Luozhu should prioritize their child. Emotionally, she didn’t want her to go.

“If you need money, you can tell me.”

After a long pause, Qi Zi forced out the words dryly.

She reached out from under the covers, rummaged through the drawer, and tossed a box to Lu Luozhu.

“Your reward.”

“…”

Lu Luozhu, who had gone all-in with all her savings in the stock market.

“Okay.”

Inside the jewelry box was a ring identical to the one Qi Zi had worn on the red carpet—simple yet elegant in design, adorned with a row of square-cut diamonds, and engraved with her initials on the inner band.

The canary bowed gracefully. “Thank you for the reward, Madam.”

As the door closed, Qi Zi swiftly got up from the bed and noticed that Lu Luozhu had left her coat behind.

The coat hanging on the rack was the very one she had hugged and kissed, now damp with cold rainwater, still not dried.

Qi Zi’s first instinct was to chase after Lu Luozhu and return it, but her fingers paused as they brushed against the soft fabric.

Unable to control herself, she wrapped both arms around the coat, burying her face in the lining and taking a deep breath, her eyes betraying an attachment she hadn’t even realized was there.

“Little Bamboo, you must still remember what happened back then, right…?”

The coat carried the alpha’s pheromones, and Qi Zi nuzzled into it, inhaling deeply like a cat intoxicated by catnip.

Purr, purr.

Purr, purr, purr…

———

The next day, the rain cleared, leaving a bright sky.

An Song eyed the heavy dark circles under Lu Luozhu’s eyes suspiciously. “Where were you last night?”

Lu Luozhu: “If I said I was working overtime, would you believe me?”

An Song: ?

Lu Luozhu shrugged. “See? You don’t believe me when I tell you, but if I don’t, you’ll just assume I went to the director’s room offering myself for a casting couch. How about I climb into your room tomorrow night, wake you up, and drag you along to watch me work overtime?”

An Song: “…”

Director: !!!

Qian Qianqian closed her eyes in despair, her urge to poison Lu Luozhu into silence reaching its peak.

After yesterday’s storm, the coastline today was exceptionally clear, shimmering like jelly.

Lu Luozhu didn’t notice the extra crew member wearing a cap and mask among the group.

Ningning, nestled in her arms, seemed to sense a familiar presence, frequently turning her head to look.

“Mommy, mommy, hug!”

Ningning had slept soundly through the wind and thunder last night, but having gone so long without seeing her mother, the child could only press close to Lu Luozhu, breathing in her scent.

The little one let out kitten-like noises, and Lu Luozhu held her tighter.

Today was the final day of the program. Lu Luozhu lounged lazily on a deck chair while the crew prepared a bonfire party for the evening and a daytime trip to see flying fish.

Standing at the front of the speedboat, Lu Luozhu called out, “Are you isolating me?”

An Song and Bai Rui, along with their respective kids, were on one boat, leaving Lu Luozhu and Ningning alone on another.

The turquoise waves lapped at her feet, but Lu Luozhu didn’t mind—she was used to quietly enjoying the scenery alone.

The crew members avoided her questioning gaze, turning their heads away to avoid eye contact.

In the Baby, Charge Forward! livestream:

“Did Lu Luozhu change the ring on her ring finger?!?!”

“OMG, it’s blinding—isn’t that the same style Qi Zi wore to a red carpet event once?”

“LMAO, which guest outright asks the crew if they’re being isolated? The whole team turned mute hhhhh”

“Could it be… they’re afraid Lu Luozhu’s sharp tongue will piss off An An, so they separated her to avoid someone pushing her into the sea?”

“Why are the staff following Soft Rice A covering their faces? Is it that sunny at the beach?”

The barrage of comments buzzed with discussion. After boarding the boat, Lu Luozhu set Ningning down. The little one, clad in a life jacket, clung to the railing with both hands. “Wow, Mommy, if we had money, could we live in the ocean forever?”

Lu Luozhu: “I don’t think money alone would cut it.”

Ningning had never seen such breathtaking scenery before—everything felt incredibly fascinating.

Ningning, wide-eyed and innocent: “Auntie said that with enough money, you can get anything you want.”

The “staff member” behind them, wearing a baseball cap and a mask, remained silent.

Lu Luozhu didn’t dare imagine what Qian Qianqian had been teaching Ningning. She replied seriously, “To live in the ocean forever, Ningning, you’d probably have to turn into a little jar first. Then we could place the jar in the sea, and the ocean would be your eternal home.”

The “staff member” in the cap and mask: “…”

At this point, letting Qian Qianqian corrupt Ningning might have been the better option.

Lu Luozhu wasn’t particularly interested in watching flying fish. Before transmigrating into this book, she had seen plenty. The overseas estate she once owned was near a strait, and her neighbors often invited her out for deep-sea fishing—where flying fish were the most common catch.

She slipped on her sunglasses and took a seat toward the back of the speedboat, right next to the “staff member.”

The sea breeze carried away their scents, leaving only the briny tang of the ocean.

With nothing much to do during the boat ride and the camera crew on a separate speedboat too far to overhear, Lu Luozhu turned to the thoroughly disguised “staff member” with an amused smile. “Are you new here?”

The “staff member” didn’t speak, only nodding in response.

Lu Luozhu hummed in acknowledgment. “What’s the pay like?”

The “staff member”: “…”

Lu Luozhu grinned, finding Qi Zi’s disguise increasingly entertaining.

Was her sugar mommy trying to play cosplay with her?

She wondered if this counted as overtime pay.

When the “staff member” stayed silent, Lu Luozhu didn’t mind. Her fingers brushed against the other’s pinky.

“Did you join the crew to chase after celebrities?”

Qi Zi jerked her hand back and shot Lu Luozhu a glare.

“You like me? No way—do I actually have fans? I thought everyone following me on Weibo was just a hater. To think there’s a genuine fan—I’m flattered. How about we take a selfie together?”

“…”

Qi Zi suddenly regretted her decision to come out to sea with her.

Last night, she had clung to Lu Luozhu’s jacket just to fall asleep.

After barely a day apart, her body was already aching with longing.

Damn pheromones.

The untouchable ice queen of the entertainment industry had to disguise herself head-to-toe, pretending to be a staff member just to share a boat with Lu Luozhu.

Lowering herself to this extent.

Giving Lu Luozhu all the face in the world.

And yet, here Lu Luozhu was, shamelessly teasing the “new staff member” at every turn.

The omega was furious.

The omega wanted to shut her up.

The speedboat soon reached the spot where flying fish could be seen. About ten meters away, a school of them skimmed the water’s surface. Against the vast expanse of the ocean, the streamlined fish spread their pectoral fins and shot forward like tiny torpedoes—

Leaving white trails in their wake.

“Wow!”

Ningning gasped in amazement. “Fishies! The fishies jumped out!”

The little one’s eyes sparkled at the sight of something new, tiny hands reaching out to grab them—only to grasp at air.

The flying fish vanished in an instant, leaving Ningning staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Mommy…”

Lu Luozhu originally wanted to comfort her by saying there would be chances to see them again.

Ningning asked in her childish voice, “Flying fishies! Can we eat them?”

Lu Luozhu: “.”

The filming crew behind them: “?”

Lu Luozhu replied seriously, “Yes.”

“Remove the head and bones, take out the small fish bones, then you can deep-fry them for a crispy texture. Steamed flying fish is also good—very fresh and sweet. My favorite is the sweet and sour version.”

In the Baby Go Forward livestream:

“Huh??? Is she seriously explaining this now?”

“Damn, I almost forgot Lu Luozhu is also a part-time food blogger.”

“Alright, alright, but isn’t there a slight possibility that flying fish can’t just be caught randomly? Sis, you’re really pushing it.”

“You can abroad. I’ve had it while traveling before. Lu Luozhu really knows her food.”

“The staff next to her are completely speechless.”

“Qi Zi must be eating really well in private (in every sense).”

If she had the tools on hand, the livestream audience had no doubt Lu Luozhu would immediately cast a line to fish.

Meanwhile, on the boat with An Song and Bai Rui, everyone was happily taking photos—completely different from Lu Luozhu’s vibe.

As the speedboat headed back, Lu Luozhu noticed Qi Zi’s shoelace had come undone and smiled. “Miss Staff, your shoelace is untied. Be careful not to trip.”

Qi Zi, lost in absorbing pheromones, forgot her persona.

The proud, cold omega slightly lifted her chin. “Tie it for me.”

The moment she said it, Qi Zi regretted it.

She glanced sideways at Lu Luozhu’s expression, panicking internally but maintaining her usual aloof demeanor.

She wouldn’t agree, right?

Right now, I’m just a staff member. Even if I were here as Qi Zi herself, Lu Luozhu—no matter how good at pretending—wouldn’t voluntarily tie my shoelace.

I was spoiled too much last night.

Just as Qi Zi was about to say it was a joke, she saw Lu Luozhu kneel on one knee, hands resting on Qi Zi’s shoes. The white laces swiftly transformed into a perfect bow under her fingers.

It was beautiful—much neater than the one Qi Zi had tied herself on the left.

Qi Zi’s heart itched, her voice dry. “Thanks.”

Lu Luozhu’s smile didn’t waver. “You’re welcome. It’s my honor to serve you.”

Qi Zi: !

Her face burned beneath the mask. “W-what do you mean?”

Lu Luozhu stood up. “After all, someone who can afford shoes worth tens of thousands isn’t just any ordinary fan of mine. In other words, you’re practically my benefactor. Of course, I need to take good care of you—lest my benefactor one day decides to stop supporting me and turns to pamper some other little charmer instead.”

Others thought Lu Luozhu was just spouting nonsense again.

But Qi Zi knew—she had been recognized.

As the speedboat started moving again, Lu Luozhu properly returned to her seat. The scenery rushed past them, and Ningning looked back longingly.

“The capital doesn’t have a sea… Ningning still wants to see! Little froggies too!”

The moment Ningning finished speaking, the speedboat stopped.

Ningning’s eyes lit up. “Mommy’s the best!”

She stopped the boat so Ningning can look a little longer.

But Lu Luozhu sensed something was wrong. She stood up, bypassing the actual staff, and checked the engine.

The staff member paled. “I think… I think the engine might be broken.”

Ningning: ?

Qi Zi frowned, displeased, and picked up her phone to call for repairs.

The speedboat behind them noticed the issue and immediately started panicking.

After some frantic attempts by the staff, the speedboat gave one final sputter before completely dying.

The staff member turned pale. “Sh-should I go check again?”

Lu Luozhu wasn’t sure if this was part of the show or if the boat was genuinely malfunctioning. She sneered coldly, “There’s no water or food on board, and it’s going to rain in two hours. Rather than having you inspect it, we’d be better off praying to a deity right now.”

The crew member: QAQ

Lu Luozhu rummaged through the toolbox for gloves, instructing Ningning to sit still while she deftly popped open the engine cover.

Qi Zi sat dumbfounded beside Ningning, the tall figure next to the small one.

The alpha’s inspection movements were practiced, as if she’d spent considerable time at sea. Qi Zi couldn’t recall Lu Luozhu having such experience—when had she learned this?

Qi Zi realized she’d been understanding Lu Luozhu less and less over recent months.

It was as if she’d become a different person.

More like the younger sister Qi Zi had adored since childhood.

Lost in her thoughts, Qi Zi didn’t notice her cap being blown off by the sea breeze, her bright gaze filled with unmistakable admiration against the azure sea and sky.

Lu Luozhu brushed engine oil from her gloves—some had smudged her face too. “The boat’s too old. There’s an issue with the fuel system—we need to replace the fuel filter. See if there’s a spare on board.”

Short-distance yachts typically didn’t carry spares, but it depended on the owner’s safety awareness.

The crew found one tucked in a corner of the storage box and handed it to Lu Luozhu.

As the sea breeze swept past her face, her fingers worked with practiced ease to remove and replace the filter, tossing the old one aside.

“Alright, try starting it now.”

The process left smudges on Lu Luozhu’s face and arms, revealing a mature, formidable edge beneath her seemingly gentle alpha features.

Nothing ever seemed to challenge her.

This was the alpha’s true nature.

Noticing Qi Zi’s gaze, Lu Luozhu reached over to adjust her baseball cap lower.

“My apologies for the scare—that was my fault. How about I compensate our distinguished VIP fan with an autograph after we disembark?”