Stepmom Alpha’s Guide to Raising Kids - Chapter 40

I thought you’d be watching the livestream, so I waited for you.

Lu Luozhu leaned limply against Qi Zi, her scorching breath brushing against Qi Zi’s neck.

A sharp pang seized Lu Luozhu’s heart, as if countless invisible strings were tightening around it. Dark spots flickered across her vision before a suffocating tide of darkness swallowed her whole.

Their fingers intertwined—Alpha and Omega—yet Qi Zi felt an overwhelming dread.

“Lu Luozhu! Lu Luozhu! Snap out of it!”

Today was New Year’s Eve, after all…

In Qi Zi’s arms, Lu Luozhu slowly closed her eyes, their fingers still entwined.

“Tired… just a short nap.”

The little one, nestled under a blanket, startled awake at the adults’ commotion, blinking in confusion before staring pitifully at them.

“Mommy’s back.”

“Mommy and Mama are hugging… Ningning wants hugs too.”

Ignoring the child, Qi Zi hastily called for their family doctor.

The dumplings on the plate grew cold, their rich aroma lingering in the air. Vinegar and chili oil sat neatly in white porcelain bowls beside the chopsticks resting on the dish.

Lu Luozhu slipped into a chaotic dreamscape, where icy instruments traced her skin and distant, familiar voices called out to her.

When she opened her eyes again, she lay on a narrow wooden bed.

A thin blanket barely shielded her from the cold seeping through the drafty window, unable to fend off the snowstorm outside.

Blinking hard, Lu Luozhu struggled to make out the dim room, the soft breaths of sleeping children filling the air.

Gurgle.

A little girl’s stomach growled—hunger gnawing relentlessly, her empty gut aching.

So cold. So hungry.

The ill-fitted window let in freezing gusts, swirling snowflakes inside.

Had the lights been on, one might have seen rows of children with lips purpled by cold, their frail bodies trembling on rickety beds that creaked with every shiver.

“Freezing…”

The girl beside her curled into a tight ball, clinging to what little warmth remained.

“Zhuzhu, why aren’t you asleep? If the teacher catches you…”

Lu Luozhu heard her own voice, thin and weak. “I’m so cold.”

Another gurgle—this time from the girl next to her.

They huddled closer, icy limbs pressed together.

“If I had money, I’d eat dumplings every day… drink dumpling soup too.”

“Are you hungry?” Lu Luozhu murmured.

The girl hesitated, then nodded.

“It’s okay. If I sleep, I won’t feel it. Tomorrow’s breakfast is steamed buns… hope they’re warm.”

The dream fragmented, Lu Luozhu’s consciousness floating above, watching the pitiful scene unfold.

“Eat a little… quietly. Don’t make a sound.”

She fished out a small packet of the cheapest soda crackers from under her pillow. “I stole these from the teacher’s office. Teacher’s things must taste really good.”

Pulling the blanket over her head, the little girl sleeping next to Lu Luozhu quietly nibbled on the soda crackers in the darkness. Without any water, she ate slowly—

hard and crisp, like shards of glass, yet these crackers were the best remedy for her stomachache.

Outside the window, the snow had stopped. A sliver of moonlight broke through the clouds.

Lu Luozhu reached out and wiped the cracker crumbs from the little girl’s lips.

She looked like a little kitten.

A kitten secretly eating crackers.

The pale, frail little girl had clear eyes. “Thank you, Xiao Zhuzi,” she whispered.

“When I become a big star someday, I’ll treat you to delicious food too.”

…

When Lu Luozhu opened her eyes again, the pain in her chest was gone. She found Qi Zi’s face hovering close above her.

“Awake? Ningning is already in college.”

Lu Luozhu’s muddled mind suddenly cleared. “?”

The dream had felt so real that she blinked several times before she could properly make out Qi Zi’s features before her.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the little girl in her dream bore a striking resemblance to Qi Zi—though Qi Zi now was far more dazzling. Her cheeks were no longer gaunt but plump with collagen, her lips a healthy red, curled slightly at the corners. There were no cheap cracker crumbs clinging to them, nor were they tinged blue from the cold.

Struggling to sit up, Lu Luozhu pressed her fingers to her temples, still groggy.

“Ningning got into college? With her IQ level, I thought being able to read was already impressive enough—at least so she could tell the difference between a soda bottle and a pesticide bottle when picking up trash.”

Qi Zi: “…”

The family doctor slowly wrote a line on the medical chart: “Patient shows signs of cognitive impairment.”

Ningning, wiping tears by the bedside: ?

Ningning didn’t understand why her mom had suddenly fainted. One moment, her mom had been hugging her mother, and the next, strangers in white coats had rushed into the house, carrying metal boxes Ningning couldn’t recognize.

Peeking out from her pink blanket, Ningning bit her lip hard and clutched her frog plushie tightly, her grape-like eyes filled with anxiety and worry.

At three years old, she didn’t understand concepts like life and death, but she could sense when her family was hurting.

While the adults were gathered together, Ningning tiptoed into the bedroom, still wrapped in her blanket.

She couldn’t see much, but she could hear the doctor’s words.

“The patient has a history of congenital heart disease…”

“Condition is stable for now, needs observation… possibly affected by the weather…”

Unable to comprehend the doctor’s terms, Ningning looked up cautiously at her mother’s expression. The usually stern woman was gripping the ECG report tightly. “When will Lu Luozhu wake up?”

“The patient should regain consciousness soon.”

As time passed, Ningning pulled out a tissue, tiptoed over, and reached up to wipe the tears from her mother’s eyes.

“Don’t cry, Mama,” she pleaded.

Qi Zi froze for a moment before pressing the tissue to her own eyes, unable to meet her child’s gaze.

“I’m not crying. Don’t make things up.”

The young award-winning actress had never flinched in the face of challenges or bowed to slander and disgrace. Yet now, her unyielding spine trembled, looking unbearably fragile.

“Here you go.”

A green, smiling frog head suddenly appeared in Qi Zi’s line of sight.

Qi Zi sighed helplessly, “I don’t want a frog.”

She had bought Ningning many small plush toys before—frogs, rabbits, eggplants, little octopuses… But ever since Ningning heard the story of “The Little Tadpoles Looking for Their Mother,” she’d developed a special fondness for frogs.

“No cry cry, okay?”

Listening to her child’s repeated comforting words, Qi Zi’s anxious heart gradually calmed.

When Lu Luozhu finally opened her eyes, the heart that had been suspended in Qi Zi’s chest finally settled back into place.

The little one threw herself at Lu Luozhu with an excited “Mommy came back to life!”

Lu Luozhu, holding her no-longer-painful chest, replied, “Thanks to your blessings, we’re not at the point where you’d need to hold a sign and walk in front of white flowers.”

The next second, a rolled-up medical report came down on Lu Luozhu’s head with three sharp raps.

Lu Luozhu: !

“Keep your mouth shut if you don’t know how to speak properly,” Qi Zi said coldly.

It was already two or three in the morning, and Lu Luozhu had only been unconscious for two hours.

The wrapped dumplings in the kitchen were spread out on the island counter. Lu Luozhu, wrapped in a coat to suppress the strange emotions in her heart, slowly descended the stairs.

The images from her dream had been too vivid for Lu Luozhu to simply ignore.

In fact, even Lu Luozhu couldn’t clearly remember her childhood memories before transmigrating into this book—no relatives, no parents. It would make sense to say she came from an orphanage.

The heart in her chest was still beating strongly enough. Pulling aside her clothes revealed traces left by medical instruments.

Her phone buzzed incessantly in her hand. After unlocking it to reply to a message, she slipped it back into her pocket.

“I made pork with cabbage and shrimp dumplings today,” Lu Luozhu said cheerfully from the kitchen, her face as gentle and sweet as ever. “Which would Madam prefer?”

The plump, round dumplings resembled little ingots, their white wrappers slightly translucent, revealing the pinkish filling inside.

Qi Zi bent down to pick up Ningning. “What kind do you want to eat, Ningning?”

“Full already,” came the reply.

“…If you’re full, then go to bed.”

Before Ningning could protest that she could keep eating, Qi Zi mercilessly deposited her in her room.

Children’s energy was short-lived—unlike adults who could stay up all night, the little one was already deeply asleep again as soon as she curled up under the blanket.

“Happy New Year, Mommy and Mama…”

Her voice grew softer until she rolled over, burying her face in a mountain of stuffed animals.

But tonight was different from usual—tomorrow morning, Ningning would find a big red envelope placed beside her pillow.

After settling the child, Qi Zi went downstairs to find a plate of steaming hot dumplings waiting for her.

“Madam didn’t say which kind you liked earlier, so I assumed you’d enjoy both,” Lu Luozhu said.

Dressed in pink butterfly pajamas, she set the plate on the table and handed Qi Zi chopsticks.

Her golden canary’s smiling eyes were full of anticipation. “If I ever fail in the entertainment industry and can’t rely on being a kept woman, maybe I’ll open a small restaurant. Remembering our current friendship, Madam could eat there for free.”

“…Shut up.”

Beside the plate was a bowl of dumpling broth sprinkled with green onions, containing a perfectly poached egg.

—If I ever have money, I want to eat dumplings every day, drink dumpling soup every day.

Qi Zi’s lips parted slightly, but she ultimately said nothing. Her chopsticks pressed against the dumpling, and with a slight exertion, the savory broth inside oozed out, dripping along the chopsticks onto the white plate.

It was delicious—incredibly so.

She could eat her fill without having to fight for it.

Better than any dumplings she’d ever had before.

Lu Luozhu leaned against the table and suddenly snapped her fingers in front of Qi Zi.

Qi Zi looked up, dazed.

Lu Luozhu: “Happy New Year, my dear wife. Please be patient with me in the coming year.”

A strand of Lu Luozhu’s hair brushed against Qi Zi’s cheek. Her chopsticks slipped, and a dumpling rolled onto the plate.

“Happy New Year to you too,” Qi Zi murmured, her heart skipping a beat. “This year… you really will need my patience.”

Lu Luozhu smiled faintly.

The dining room faced a floor-to-ceiling window. The villa was perched halfway up the mountain, offering a distant view of the city’s nightscape.

Then, in the dark of the night, a sudden flash of light streaked across the glass.

Brilliant fireworks soared into the sky, tearing through the silent darkness.

Streaks of blue and purple light, like shooting stars, pierced the heavens before bursting apart in an instant, dissolving into countless shimmering trails that cascaded downward.

One after another, they bloomed in dense clusters, as radiant as the stars and moon combined.

Qi Zi hadn’t expected fireworks at this hour. Usually, they were reserved for midnight. Yet here it was, 3:30 AM, when the city had long settled back into quiet.

The flickering lights illuminated Qi Zi’s profile.

She looked up at Lu Luozhu in disbelief, who merely gazed back at her with a knowing smile.

A wild guess formed in Qi Zi’s mind.

“You set these off?”

Setting off fireworks in the capital—and on such a grand scale, as if afraid no one would notice—was so very Lu Luozhu.

Each burst of light cost a fortune. Qi Zi couldn’t decide if this was romantic or just plain wasteful.

The next moment, Lu Luozhu’s lips captured hers in a kiss.

“Qi Zi, I take my role as a kept woman very seriously,” the alpha murmured, her kiss laced with possessiveness. She seemed to know exactly how to please Qi Zi—and delighted in the way Qi Zi half-heartedly pushed at her shoulders, feigning resistance. “Was the dumpling good?”

The omega, her lips sealed, couldn’t answer.

Lu Luozhu deepened the kiss, one hand lightly encircling Qi Zi’s slender neck as she tilted her head back.

The loss of control was unsettling, yet Qi Zi felt no urge to flee.

Perhaps her body had already learned to trust this alpha. Her instincts, drowned in pheromones, surrendered before reason could intervene.

After much coaxing—and relentless kissing—Qi Zi finally gave in with a weak nod, refusing to admit just how much she’d enjoyed the dumplings.

Lu Luozhu’s fingers still carried the warmth of Qi Zi’s skin as she watched her quickly finish the plate, then dart off to load it into the dishwasher.

As if slowing down even a second would invite another long, suffocating kiss.

Adorable.

Lu Luozhu smiled to herself.

Perhaps she shouldn’t let herself grow too fond of Qi Zi. That way, when the divorce came, it wouldn’t hurt.

She figured Qi Zi understood, too—that their passion was just a fleeting transaction.

Qi Zi’s status meant she couldn’t afford intimacy with anyone… except her lawful spouse.

Intimacy meant soothing her pheromone disorder.

Everything was calculated.

And Lu Luozhu? She was happy to be part of the scheme. She reveled in it.

Yet somehow, it still felt like something was missing.

Lu Luozhu’s gaze lingered deeply on Qi Zi’s back in the kitchen—busy with something yet unwilling to come out—when she suddenly smiled.

Perhaps it was time for them to settle down.

Both needed a gentle and beautiful wife, and a well-behaved child.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

After hesitating for a long time, Qi Zi finally dashed out of the kitchen, head lowered, unwilling to meet Lu Luozhu’s eyes. Her lips were slightly swollen from being bitten too hard.

“Here.”

A heavy red envelope was shoved into Lu Luozhu’s arms.

Judging by its thickness, it contained more money than she could earn from ten advertisements.

Finally, Qi Zi stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Lu Luozhu’s cheek.

“Consider it a reward for being a decent stepmother. It’s late—go rest. I have an event tomorrow, and as for you… take the kid to the amusement park.”

“Wear something warm. Wouldn’t want you freezing to death from a heart attack outside.”

Lu Luozhu: “…Alright.”

Qi Zi turned and hurried upstairs, not giving Lu Luozhu a chance to respond.

At the top of the stairs, she glanced back and saw Lu Luozhu still standing there, holding the red envelope, smiling gently at her.

That gentleness was just a facade. Qi Zi knew the domineering sharpness beneath.

But Qi Zi liked it.

She liked a plate of dumplings, fireworks set off just for her, and sudden kisses.

Maybe behind Lu Luozhu’s pretend tenderness, there was a sliver of sincerity?

…

The next day, the movie theater was packed.

Ningning stared blankly. “Mom said you’d take me to the amusement park today.”

Lu Luozhu stood in the theater lobby with the kid in tow. She had thought the place wouldn’t be too crowded on New Year’s Day, but before her was a sea of heads, packed together like crayfish in a plastic crate.

Clutching two movie tickets, Lu Luozhu regretted coming.

She wanted to watch Qi Zi’s film.

Ningning sat perched on her shoulders, hugging a bucket of popcorn that rested atop Lu Luozhu’s head.

When the movie was about to start, Lu Luozhu headed toward the screening room, the crowd growing even denser.

Many in the audience were Qi Zi’s fans.

Lu Luozhu overheard a girl nearby whisper excitedly, “I saw Qi Zi in Lu Luozhu’s livestream yesterday!!!”

“They’re legally married. Isn’t it normal for her to appear in Lu Luozhu’s stream?”

“You don’t get it! Yesterday, Lu Luozhu and the kid were making dumplings together on stream, waiting sweetly for my wife to come home. It was so adorable I could die!”

“What kind of perfect housewife is Lu Luozhu?!”

“Rumor has it she doesn’t wear anything under her apron at home!!! Why has my wife become my love rival?”

The so-called “perfect housewife” herself: “…”

Ningning whispered, “Are those sisters talking about Mom?”

Lu Luozhu: “…”

Ningning: “Why do they call Mom ‘wife’? Isn’t Mom your wife?”

Lu Luozhu: “…” She was curious about that too.

With her hat and mask on, Lu Luozhu tried to stay inconspicuous as Ningning chose a discreet seat in the back.

Another reason for the crowd was that Qi Zi was also scheduled to appear at this theater.

But Lu Luozhu didn’t know—she had simply picked the cinema closest to the amusement park.

The commercials were playing before the movie started. Ningning whispered a question, “Mommy, why do people say you don’t wear anything under your apron at home?”

Lu Luozhu met the child’s curious, studious gaze with utter mortification.

She replied to her baby, “That’s an adult topic. Little ones shouldn’t ask about such things.”

As the movie began, most of the audience quieted down. Ningning sat obediently beside Lu Luozhu, watching attentively even though she didn’t fully understand everything.

Age might not recognize others, but it always recognizes one’s mother.

The movie ended quickly. As Lu Luozhu exited the theater, she was immediately met with an even larger crowd.

Suddenly, a team of security personnel in black suits parted the sea of people, creating a vacuum-like clearing.

Camera flashes erupted incessantly as Qi Zi, dressed in formal attire, was tightly surrounded by security. The guards—all alphas, both men and women—stood tall and stern like an impenetrable wall separating Qi Zi from the screaming crowd.

Hearing that Qi Zi was here, fans’ shriekes nearly pierced Lu Luozhu’s eardrums.

Holding Ningning with one arm, she used her free hand to push through the crowd.

No one knew how the fans got the information, but they all suddenly pulled out support banners and signs from their bags.

Lu Luozhu was stunned by the spectacle. Though uninterested in celebrity culture, she’d never witnessed such frenzy before.

Fans screamed Qi Zi’s name, desperate for even the slightest attention from their idol.

At the center of all eyes, Qi Zi slightly lifted her chin, wearing only a faint smile—as if her face couldn’t make any other expression outside of movies and TV dramas.

Lu Luozhu knew better.

Her expressions could be quite vivid indeed.

As could her pheromone fluids.

Frightened by the commotion, Ningning shrank into Lu Luozhu’s arms. “Mommy…”

Amidst all the staring eyes, Qi Zi noticed a familiar figure. She paused, her gaze landing on the two most inconspicuous people at the farthest edge.

Fans mistakenly thought she was looking at them and erupted in renewed screams of her name.

Across the crowd, Lu Luozhu met Qi Zi’s star-bright eyes.

What a dazzling little fox.

Perhaps because Lu Luozhu was accustomed to seeing Qi Zi only in private, witnessing her as this radiant celebrity surrounded by admirers felt strangely novel.

Qi Zi tilted her head slightly, as if doubting her own eyes. Under the pretense of signing autographs, she subtly moved closer to steal another glance at Lu Luozhu.

Lu Luozhu responded by forming a heart shape with her hands.

Qi Zi gave a slight chin lift in acknowledgment.

Then mirrored the heart gesture across the crowd.

A cool, effortless heart.

The fan beside Lu Luozhu screamed, “Aaaaaah!!! Did you see that?! My wife is looking at me!!!!”

Lu Luozhu: “She’s my wife.”

The fan laughed, “Hahahaha, sis you’re really into the fantasy huh? You even have a kid already, still being a wife fan?”

Lu Luozhu adjusted Ningning in her arms. The little one wore a hat that obscured her features.

Lu Luozhu: “She’s mine and Qi Zi’s child.”

The fan gave a thumbs up, “You’re right! Hey, are you in the fan group chat? Want me to add you?”

Lu Luozhu silently scanned the QR code to join. “She really is our child.”

The fan beside her patted her shoulder and said, “Moderate your idol chasing. Don’t let it affect your life. Your wife would be sad to hear this.”

The next second, the same fan was holding up a banner and screaming along with the crowd.

Lu Luozhu: “.”

See? You don’t believe me even when I tell you.

After coming out of the mall, both Ningning and Lu Luozhu’s clothes were slightly disheveled. Lu Luozhu used the pocket money Qi Zi gave her to buy Ningning several new outfits.

Lu Luozhu’s everyday clothes were all bought by Qi Zi. She wasn’t particular about clothing—anything wearable would do.

The lucky money from the red packets was quickly spent, all on the little one.

Lu Luozhu, enjoying the warm air in the mall while licking an ice cream, checked her phone and saw that her group application had been approved.

The fan who had just spoken to her sent a private message venting, “Ugh, I missed out this time and couldn’t get my wife’s autograph! I’m gonna have to shell out big bucks for one on the secondhand market!”

Along with the message, the fan sent a photo of a signed baseball cap.

Lu Luozhu replied, “How much is my wife’s autograph going for?”

The fan quoted an exorbitant price.

Truly worthy of Teacher Qi Zi.

The fan on the other end kept ranting, seemingly not expecting Lu Luozhu to reply.

Lu Luozhu opened Qi Zi’s chat window and sent the photo of the baseball cap.

“Big star, I want an autograph too.”