Stepmom Alpha’s Guide to Raising Kids - Chapter 33

The first thing Lu Luozhu did after getting off the boat was to confront the show’s organizers.

The production crew exchanged uneasy glances when they saw Lu Luozhu’s grim expression, their fear palpable.

With Qi Zi also on board, if anything went wrong, selling off the entire production team wouldn’t be enough to cover the damages.

The producer, a middle-aged beta woman with sharp features that hinted at past beauty, sneered,

“What right does Lu Luozhu have to come after us? Shouldn’t everything be for the sake of the show’s entertainment value? She’s on the black-and-red path—we’re giving her a chance to shine. She should be thanking us.”

The director’s gaze trembled as he looked at her.

Wait…

Are you serious?

You actually did this??

The director’s hand holding the walkie-talkie shook slightly.

The producer frowned, her already unapproachable expression turning even more smug.

“The audience response has been great. Honestly, Lu Luozhu is too young—she thinks just because Qi Zi supports her, she doesn’t need to manage her fans. Hmph, they’ll probably be divorced by the end of the year.”

The director silently edged away from her.

The role of a producer in the industry was often ambiguous. Some minor celebrities or models looking to polish their reputations would leverage connections to take on producer titles.

Though industry standards had tightened, completely eliminating such practices was impossible.

In the Baby, Charge Forward! livestream chat:

“Ahhh, I’m totally stanning Lu Luozhu now! The way she replaced the boat’s fuel filter was so smooth—definitely not faking it!”

“Engine oil splashed on her face… damn, she looks kinda hot.”

“Soft Alpha is scoring major points today. I’m starting to believe she’s really pampered by Qi Zi.”

“Guys, did you see Lu Luozhu adjusting a staff member’s cap when she got off the boat? Or is it just me? Her gaze was so tender, ughhh.”

“Soft Alpha has no Alpha virtues—dumb but devastatingly beautiful.”

“The production team should take full responsibility. The speedboat operator didn’t know anything—if Lu Luozhu hadn’t been able to fix it, they’d still be drifting at sea…”

Furious viewers flooded Qi Zi’s Weibo, venting their frustrations.

Wifey, look! Your wife is being bullied!

When Qian Qianqian stumbled across this trending topic, she was at a loss for words.

Sometimes, when people are speechless, they just laugh.

Lu Luozhu… getting bullied?

What a joke.

Qian Qianqian ignored the netizens’ outcry and walked over to Lu Luozhu.

Lu Luozhu stood in front of the production team. “Care to explain?”

The director reflexively stepped aside, showing no intention of standing in solidarity with the producer.

With a collective rustle, everyone except the producer took a step back.

A lone figure among chickens.

The producer was insane—the director still had a career to think about.

Her face twisted with arrogance as she waved for her assistant to shoo away the cameras.

“The speedboat engine stalling was beyond our control. Be reasonable—don’t cause a scene in front of the kids. It’s bad optics. Besides, hasn’t everything been resolved perfectly?”

Lu Luozhu smirked. “Oh, perfectly resolved indeed. Should I go open some champagne to celebrate? Maybe toast to the end of your career while I’m at it.”

The producer’s expression darkened for a moment. “Lu Luozhu, as a guest on this show, you have a responsibility to cooperate with the recording.”

An Song, holding little Jasmine in the distance, was enjoying the drama. It was the first time he’d seen Lu Luozhu speak without restraint, and it was oddly satisfying.

Bai Rui: “What are you laughing at?”

An Song: “She scolded the producer, so she can’t scold me now.”

Bai Rui: ?

Have you developed feelings from being scolded?

Lu Luozhu had no interest in trading barbs with the producer like a rapper. Her posture was relaxed, as if she’d suddenly entered her comfort zone.

Lu Luozhu: “Do you even know who the biggest investor of this show is? If you can’t read, go check the contract.”

Silence fell over the surroundings, broken only by the sound of waves lapping against the shore.

Qian Qianqian closed her eyes in despair.

Although the cameraman had been dismissed, the audio equipment was still running.

A “staff member” wearing a cap and mask stood frozen not far away.

She was aware of some unsavory practices in the industry, but she hadn’t expected the generator failure to be deliberately caused.

The omega stared at Lu Luozhu in the distance, curious about what reasoning she would offer.

Given Lu Luozhu’s past temperament, it would have been impressive if she hadn’t resorted to hysterics.

Lu Luozhu’s clear voice carried forward: “Do you believe I could go home and whisper in my wife’s ear? She adores me so much she wouldn’t care about the truth. Even if I exaggerated and said I nearly drowned today, she wouldn’t doubt me. She’d just pat my back and comfort me, saying, ‘Don’t be scared, baby. I’ll handle everything.'”

The producer: “…”

Director: ?

Qian Qianqian nearly choked.

She knew it! She knew Lu Luozhu’s mouth would spout nothing good!

The “Baby, Charge Forward!” production team:

“…Did I hear that right? Does Lu Luozhu even know what she’s saying?”

“Well, well, so this is how you freeload in style now.”

“How can someone embody ‘taking advantage of favor’ so perfectly! Is she acting? Doesn’t seem like it…”

“So Lu Luozhu knows her place after all.”

“@Qi Zi, come clarify this. I refuse to believe the untouchable Qi-sensei would say ‘Don’t be scared, baby’ QAQ”

Meanwhile, Qi Zi, who had been dragged into this, felt her face burn beneath her mask, her arms trembling slightly around the child.

Lu Luozhu was, as always, running her mouth without a single reliable word, making up nonsense about her.

How outrageous.

How utterly outrageous.

When had she ever said “Don’t be scared, baby”?

The omega felt her entire body grow warm. Her alpha was never vulnerable, never pitifully nuzzling into her arms seeking head pats and comfort.

It was always Qi Zi who called Lu Luozhu during thunderstorm nights, claiming she needed “discreet services,” only to end up wrapped in blankets and huddled in a corner, fingers clutching Lu Luozhu’s clothes when carried to bed.

Lu Luozhu would embrace her through the blankets, their cheeks pressed together.

The bergamot pheromones clung to her like some living, invasive thing, making it hard for Qi Zi to even breathe properly.

The one who spoke such submissive words yet behaved more outrageously than anyone.

How dare she mention “pillow talk” on camera? Alphas never whispered sweet nothings—they only bit her neck and mischievously called her “Madam.”

Ningning: “Your face is red, like a boiled shrimp.”

The mysterious “staff member” had barely touched Ningning when she instantly recognized her as her mother—only a mother carries that sweet, familiar scent.

Ningning knew her mother was by her side. She was a sensible child, so she didn’t say a word.

Ningning was a good girl who could keep secrets.

Qi Zi buried her face in Ningning’s shoulder, flushed with embarrassment, and let out a weak, “…Aww.”

Qian Qianqian watched in despair as Qi Zi’s brain short-circuited. “Teacher Qi, maybe you should rest in the car for a while.”

Qi Zi remained motionless.

Exhausted, Qian Qianqian sighed. “Your pheromones are affecting others. If you don’t want tomorrow’s headlines to read #A-List Actress Shocks Beachgoers, Allegedly Harasses Over 20 People#, I suggest you leave now.”

Qi Zi: “.”

In her agent’s words, Qi Zi detected a familiar tone of sarcasm.

The producer, mindful of Qi Zi’s status, didn’t dare retort outright. She didn’t believe Lu Luozhu and Qi Zi’s marriage was anything solid—how could someone like Lu Luozhu possibly win Qi Zi’s favor? Qi Zi wasn’t deaf or blind; she wouldn’t stoop so low as to fall for a showy, shallow, and petty alpha.

The reality, however, was that the producer found herself handed a termination letter in front of everyone.

An Song felt like she was dreaming. “It’s not even evening yet, and you’ve already worked your pillow talk magic?”

Lu Luozhu sat on the rocks, watching the dazzling sunset. The crimson glow bathed her face as the sea breeze tousled her hair. She lounged leisurely, sipping from a coconut.

“Because I’m beautiful, gentle, and virtuous, my wife dotes on me and won’t let me suffer even the slightest grievance.”

An Song: “.”

There she goes again, spouting nonsense.

Not a single word from this alpha could be trusted.

An Song glanced at Lu Luozhu’s profile and suddenly realized she wasn’t as detestable as she’d once thought. Though her mouth spewed nothing pleasant, there was an oddly straightforward charm to her after a while.

Ningning, though timid, had been raised well under her care.

From a nearby speedboat, An Song had watched Lu Luozhu replace the fuel filter with ease. Only someone intimately familiar with boats could handle it so confidently.

Most social climbers pretended to be wealthy by picking up “refined” hobbies—scuba diving, flower arranging, wine tasting, golf, horseback riding.

An Song had seen plenty of young people desperate to blend into high society who fancied yachting, but Lu Luozhu was the first to casually service the engine while at it.

She exuded a reckless, carefree aura.

How enviable, that mental state of hers.

Lu Luozhu side-eyed her. “Stop looking at me with those lovesick eyes. I don’t do alpha-on-alpha, and my wife won’t let me fool around outside.”

An Song retracted her admiring gaze. “You don’t strike me as the obedient type.”

Lu Luozhu: “You’d be obedient too if you couldn’t even afford a train ticket home.”

An Song: ?

As the show’s recording neared its end, the producer’s presence—or lack thereof—wouldn’t affect the proceedings.

The final evening event was a bonfire party. Lu Luozhu wasn’t much of a dancer, so An Song strummed her guitar and sang softly while Bai Rui kept rhythm on a hand drum. Lu Luozhu held two skewers of grilled squid, humming along to the melody. Ningning and Bai Mianmian tumbled together in the sand, competing to see who could roll farther.

The orange flickering glow of the bonfire danced across Lu Luozhu’s cheeks, making her dark eyes sparkle. The squid in her mouth, brushed with barbecue sauce, sizzled as it roasted. Lu Luozhu took out scissors to trim the edges of the squid into decorative frills.

The squid, freshly caught just two hours ago, had a warm, jade-like sheen. A layer of barbecue sauce and garlic paste was enough to make it deliciously fragrant.

While others sang and danced around the bonfire, Lu Luozhu turned to look toward where the staff were gathered.

Qi Zi wasn’t there.

She had deliberately grilled two squids, intending to share one with Qi Zi.

Her wife usually ate very little to maintain her figure, but Lu Luozhu had noticed that Qi Zi had a deep appreciation for good food—she wasn’t picky and enjoyed everything.

Holding two perfectly grilled squids in hand, Lu Luozhu had even drizzled them with oil and sprinkled chopped scallions and cilantro for extra flavor.

But Qi Zi was nowhere to be seen.

Lu Luozhu clicked her tongue in annoyance. It wasn’t often she tried to do something nice for her superior, yet her gesture went unappreciated.

An Song stopped strumming her guitar, and the sudden silence made Lu Luozhu instinctively look up.

“Did you smell something strange?”

Lu Luozhu’s nose was filled with the aroma of grilled squid. She took a bite of a tentacle. “If you’re trying to indirectly compliment my cooking, you can just say it outright. No need to be polite.”

An Song’s lips twitched. “It smells like flowers.”

Lu Luozhu finished one squid with a crunch and set aside the one she’d prepared for Qi Zi on a foil tray. Only when she stepped away from the barbecue smoke did she notice it—amid the salty tang of the sea, there was a faint, sweet scent of pear blossom cake.

Lu Luozhu: “You’re mistaken.”

An Song frowned. “I smelled something similar this afternoon, almost like an o—”

Lu Luozhu cut her off with a flawless smile. “You’re mistaken.”

An Song didn’t press the issue and resumed playing her guitar, singing an unreleased song. Most of the livestream viewers were her fans, so hardly anyone noticed when Lu Luozhu quietly slipped away.

A black sedan was parked by the roadside on the island, its door slightly ajar. Wisps of omega pheromones seeped out from inside.

But the scent inside the car was only a fraction of it—most of the pheromones came from behind the wooden cottage further back.

The sound of crashing waves drowned out the omega’s ragged breathing.

Standing alone by the empty road, Lu Luozhu felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

The unread message on her screen was from “Madam Liang.”

Lu Luozhu clicked her tongue in displeasure and opened the chat.

Madam Liang: I heard you secured the necklace. Well done. Your grandmother will be pleased.

Madam Liang: Your engagement with Qi Zi will end in less than a year. I’ve found a suitable omega from an equal family background who will also attend your grandmother’s birthday banquet.

Madam Liang: Lu Luozhu, don’t disappoint me again.

Lu Luozhu thought to herself that she had indeed secured the necklace—it was currently draped around her neck.

The imperial green beaded necklace swayed against her black T-shirt, exuding an air of opulence.

She left the message on read. The other side seemed accustomed to her coldness, confident that Lu Luozhu would never dare to disobey.

Putting her phone back in her pocket, Lu Luozhu walked to the back of the small wooden cabin. There sat a black-haired, long-skirted omega on a chair creaking from sea erosion, her view encompassing the crowd singing and dancing in the distance.

The omega’s pheromones were diluted by the sea breeze.

Qi Zi rested her chin on one hand, tightening the jacket belonging to Lu Luozhu around her.

The omega seemed utterly exhausted, yawning but afraid to fall asleep. Her fingers pressed against the gland covered by a small bear-shaped patch, its edges already peeling, barely serving its purpose of isolating pheromones.

Her entire body burned—another episode. Qi Zi buried her face in her hands in despair.

This damned body.

She resigned herself to the thought that this body was just begging to be claimed, unable to survive without a mark.

Worthless, just like her birth.

Brought into this world carelessly, abandoned at the orphanage gates.

The usually rational Qi Zi couldn’t stand the overwhelming tide inside her. She refused to stay in the confined space of the car, wanting instead to watch Lu Luozhu from afar. She saw Lu Luozhu grilling squid—two skewers, one of which she ate herself. Was the other meant for her?

Qi Zi wasn’t fond of fishy food; it always reminded her of the long-dead fish in the orphanage kitchen. But Lu Luozhu’s grilling skills were excellent—she liked it.

Suddenly, a hand landed on Qi Zi’s trembling shoulder.

The gland patch on the back of her neck was peeled off. Startled, Qi Zi looked up into Lu Luozhu’s smiling eyes.

“So, my wife was here secretly watching me. Do I look good?”

Lu Luozhu lowered her head and took Qi Zi’s gland between her lips, her tongue brushing against the slightly swollen gland. The delicate skin was feverishly sweet.

Heat radiated from Qi Zi’s body. Just as she was about to speak, Lu Luozhu’s palm covered her mouth.

“Be quiet, my dear. Unless you want to draw the crew’s attention.”

Lu Luozhu’s marking was swift. Alpha pheromones flooded into Qi Zi’s body. Gasping heavily, Qi Zi clutched Lu Luozhu’s clothes, her borrowed jacket slipping to the ground and startling a hermit crab at her feet.

With a teasing touch, Lu Luozhu trailed kisses up from the gland to Qi Zi’s neck.

“Control yourself, my dear.”

Lu Luozhu’s voice was rough and muffled. “You’re digging into my waist.”

Qi Zi’s hands jerked back as if burned. Initially, she had only been gripping Lu Luozhu’s clothes, but as their pheromones mingled, her hands had unconsciously moved to Lu Luozhu’s waist, leaving behind five red marks.

“Sorry,” the omega murmured. “Let me rub it for you.”

Her fingers gently kneaded the sore spot—only for her wrist to be caught the next moment.

“When you have an episode, you should do as before—have your agent send your Luan Feng Cheng En car to pick me up.”

Qi Zi shot her a glare, but her gaze was light, brimming with allure.

Too bad Lu Luozhu couldn’t see it. Her tongue traced Qi Zi’s jawline.

Her skin was so smooth—no wonder she was an award-winning actress who could withstand high-definition cameras.

Her voice was just as enticing.

Soft and teasing, making Qi Zi instinctively clamp her knees around Lu Luozhu’s leg when kissed.

Lu Luozhu didn’t push further. Deeming herself polite, she moved upward and finally paused at the corner of Qi Zi’s lips.

“Still uncomfortable?”

Qi Zi blinked up at her, dazed and coquettish, taking several seconds to make out Lu Luozhu’s silhouette.

“It’s still early.”

“What?”

“It’s still early, Xiao Zhuzhu. I…I want to kiss you.”

The aloof and domineering film queen never gave Lu Luozhu a chance to respond. Gripping her collar, she captured her lips.

Qi Zi sat on the creaking chair, the distant bonfire and the sound of someone strumming a guitar in the background.

Lu Luozhu had no choice but to kneel on the ground, tilting her head up to accept Qi Zi’s messy, unpracticed kiss.

Her tongue was bitten until it bled.

The metallic sweetness of bl00d filled her mouth.

As the alpha pheromones in their saliva were fully absorbed, Qi Zi cupped Lu Luozhu’s face, studying her features intently.

“I really should squeeze every last penny out of you—then you’d behave.”

Qi Zi murmured to herself, her thumb brushing Lu Luozhu’s lips. “Your mouth is so annoying, but it tastes good.”

Lu Luozhu was being sexually harassed by her sugar mommy, yet instead of irritation, she tilted her head further, complying with her actions.

Though Qi Zi’s kissing skills left much to be desired. Lu Luozhu had never kissed anyone before, but even she knew normal people didn’t bite the inside of their partner’s mouth or clack teeth together.

Fortunately, their pheromone compatibility was high. The disastrous technique didn’t diminish the satisfaction afterward.

“Lu Luozhu.”

Qi Zi steadied her breathing, wiping away the silver thread between their lips. “Your adoptive parents have a biological daughter, don’t they?”

Lu Luozhu froze, confused by the sudden topic.

“Yes, one.”

Qi Zi’s voice was soft. “From what I’ve found, their biological daughter died of heart failure—because no matching donor was found.”

Lu Luozhu’s back stiffened as she knelt in the sand. She vaguely recalled a similar plot point from the original novel.

“And then?”

“And then,” Qi Zi mused, scrutinizing Lu Luozhu’s profile, comparing it to her childhood photos. “The rest, you can figure out yourself. All I can say for now is that heart transplants aren’t foolproof. Rejection can only be confirmed after the surgery.”

In the darkness, Lu Luozhu couldn’t read Qi Zi’s expression. A finger tapped lightly against her chest.

Lu Luozhu was utterly lost. Before transmigrating, her heart hadn’t been in great condition, but it was far from needing a transplant.

She’d once heard a theory—that the heart could store fragments of memory. If someone received another’s heart, their memories and personality might be influenced.

Qi Zi’s lips curled as she pressed a tender kiss to Lu Luozhu’s forehead.

“Your adoptive family owes you no great kindness. I’m telling you this because you have talent—for investments, for business. Don’t waste it on money or emotions.”

Before Lu Luozhu could process the cryptic words, her thoughts were interrupted.

—The distant guitar had fallen silent. A familiar voice suddenly called from behind her.

“The crew’s taking group photos. Lu Luozhu, where the hell are you? You’re not answering calls or texts. Stop acting like a spoiled brat—no one but Qi Zi has to put up with you.”

An Song had asked the staff and followed the direction they pointed, trudging through the sand until she spotted a black car in the distance. Nearby, a flutter of fabric caught her eye.

An Song saw the young lady she spoke of kneeling on the sand, beside an empty chair that creaked in the sea breeze.

A coat hung over the chair.

An Song’s voice abruptly cut off, her gaze uncertain. “Are you…?”

Lu Luozhu’s lips parted slightly, but in the end, she didn’t say a word.

Above her, Qi Zi looked like a startled little animal, her paws gripping the edge of the cabin window. At the slightest sound, she swiftly ducked back inside through the window.

The award-winning actress certainly had her image to uphold.

Lu Luozhu said stiffly, “I was praying to the sea for a year of favorable weather. Do you believe me?”

An Song: “…Huh?”

Lu Luozhu stood up, brushing the sand off her knees. “You go ahead first. I’ll catch up soon.”

An Song nodded blankly. “Okay. Did the sea grant your prayer for good weather?”

Lu Luozhu: ?

An Song pointed at her lips. “Looks like the sea rejected your prayer and slapped you instead—ridding the world of evil.”

The corner of Lu Luozhu’s mouth was bitten red, though she hadn’t noticed it herself, only feeling a faint, stinging pain.

An Song drifted away as if in a dream. Qi Zi emerged from the cabin, rummaging through her bag with her little paws.

“Let me cover that up for you. I’m good at this—it won’t show in photos.”

Qi Zi, flustered, cleared her throat. “The sea might not grant you good weather, but I can give you a car to shelter you from wind and rain.”

“You can come find me in the Phoenix Chariot of Spring Favor.”