Stepmom Alpha’s Guide to Raising Kids - Chapter 42

In the dusty room of Chengjiu Orphanage, sunlight streamed through the grimy windows.

Particles of dust floated in the air as Lu Luozhu tightened her grip around Qi Zi’s waist, pulling her closer.

Qi Zi tilted her head in confusion. “Lu Luozhu, not only is your heart weak, but your brain isn’t great either.”

She wanted to say something scathing, but when she looked down at Lu Luozhu’s dazed expression, the words died in her throat.

How pitiful.

Her body leaned weakly against Lu Luozhu, her face flushed an unnatural red. A pink baseball cap sat askew on her head, the brim tilted to one side.

“We grew up in the same orphanage. I slept next to you. You had this really pretty red floral dress—everyone envied you.”

“And then?”

“And then those who envied you tried to bully you, but you beat them all up.”

Listening to Qi Zi recount the past felt like hearing a story—one that didn’t belong to her. Yet, somehow, her body responded with an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Lu Luozhu rested her chin atop Qi Zi’s head, cupping her soft cheeks in her hands. Her burning fingers kneaded Qi Zi’s face playfully.

Qi Zi: “—Lu Luozhu!”

The little fox’s face turned red from all the rubbing.

So cute.

A strange thought surfaced in Lu Luozhu’s mind—was she really transmigrated into a novel? Or was there another explanation?

Qi Zi had no idea what Lu Luozhu was thinking. Above her, steady breaths filled the silence, while against her ear, she could hear the strong heartbeat of the alpha.

“If it weren’t for the fact that you helped me back in the orphanage, I would never have agreed to marry you,” Qi Zi muttered sullenly. “Someone like you isn’t fit to have a wife at all.”

This alpha had no idea how to cherish someone.

What a waste of her unrequited love.

So annoying. Absolutely infuriating.

Qi Zi remembered the alpha from before—the disdainful look she had given her during her heat. Her heart ached as if squeezed by an invisible hand.

A cold suppressant had brushed past the omega’s cheek as the alpha loomed over the bed, looking down at her.

“If your fans saw their beloved star begging to be marked, their illusions would shatter, wouldn’t they?”

Every icy word from the alpha only highlighted the absurdity of their marriage.

Feeling Qi Zi’s resistance, Lu Luozhu pulled her even closer.

“What if I told you I don’t remember any of it? Would you think I’m lying?”

“Yes.”

Qi Zi struggled free from Lu Luozhu’s embrace, angrily adjusting her crooked cap. Her long hair had become tousled and messy from the movement.

The little fox, her eyes slightly red, seemed to flick an imaginary tail behind her, as if trying to hiss in displeasure.

The little canary, however, nestled against her comfortably, pressing a light kiss to the corner of her patron’s eye.

“Seems like I was quite the scoundrel before. If you don’t mind, you can teach me a lesson.”

The naturally aggressive alpha leaned in, like a dog obediently offering its leash to its owner.

The quiet orphanage room had faded motivational posters on the walls, rough cotton sheets that scratched against the skin, and the distant laughter of children playing downstairs.

Being intimate in a place like this—it was absurd to the point of ridiculousness.

“You can hit me, with your hand,” Lu Luozhu’s slender, elegant fingers lightly tapped Qi Zi’s palm before moving to her waist,

“Or use a belt.”

Lu Luozhu’s voice was soft and sweet, her shoe gently brushing against Qi Zi’s leather boot. “I wouldn’t mind if you stepped on me with those heels.”

“Lu Luozhu!”

Qi Zi’s eyes were tinged with red, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as if she had been thoroughly teased.

This damn bastard.

“Don’t think I won’t do it.”

Is this alpha a pervert?! Qi Zi had no doubt that if she really slapped her, the alpha would grab her hand and lick her palm.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

The next second, the omega suddenly stood up, hastily straightening her disheveled clothes before frantically pulling a gland patch from her pocket and slapping it onto the back of her neck.

The gland, already bitten until it bled, was treated roughly, making Qi Zi gasp in pain.

Outside, the host knocked on the door in confusion. “Luozhu?”

Behind the host, the cameraman aimed his lens at the tightly shut door—only for the flimsy wooden door to be yanked open with a loud “bang!”

A “staff member” wearing a baseball cap hurried out, colliding head-on with the host before swiftly slipping away without stopping.

Host: !!!

The host staggered from the impact.

The camera then focused on Lu Luozhu, who was sitting cross-legged on the large communal bed. Bathed in sunlight, the alpha tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, her beautiful face glowing with an alluring radiance under the warm light.

Lu Luozhu smiled faintly. “Sorry, I had a little disagreement with my staff member. How embarrassing.”

The host asked stiffly, “What kind of disagreement?”

Lu Luozhu: “Perhaps I accidentally offended my dear staff member. I apologized, and they were… deeply moved?”

In the live chat of Baby Go Forward:

“Lu Luozhu, do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I feel like that staff member is about to explode from anger.”

“If it were anyone else, I’d dig into the truth of the ‘disagreement,’ but since it’s Lu Luozhu, I’m sure it’s your fault.”

“What kind of staff member wears a cap personally signed by Qi Zi? Is this some obsessive fan?”

“Or maybe—just maybe—that pink signed baseball cap is exclusive to Lu Luozhu, and now it’s on a ‘staff member’s’ head. If you think there’s nothing going on between them, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“ZhuZi shippers smell sugar. Look at that figure, that walk—I won’t say it if you don’t.”

“Coming here from the gossip threads—do people really think Lu Luozhu is the pampered young miss of the Lu family? No wonder she’s so efficient at work. Probably had to do a lot growing up.”

“Tsk, this soft-alpha’s smile is lethal. Stop being so damn charming.”

……

In a quiet corner downstairs.

Qian Qianqian faced Qi Zi.

Qian Qianqian: “Wearing that cap—are you trying to make it easy for fans to expose you?”

Only then did Qi Zi realize and hurriedly take off the baseball cap. Even without outsiders around, her expression remained cool and aloof, but Qian Qianqian couldn’t shake the feeling that Teacher Qi was acting… obedient.

Sitting properly.

Ears burning.

Hand resting on her belt.

It took Qian Qianqian a few seconds to remember she had business to discuss.

“Some unfriendly posts have appeared online.”

Qi Zi’s mind buzzed as her face grew increasingly red, slowly burying it in her cool hands.

The alpha didn’t mind being struck by her hands or the belt, nor did she care when Qi Zi stepped on her with high heels.

What kind of nonsense was that?

Qian Qianqian waved her hand in front of Qi Zi’s face. “Teacher Qi, I know a pretty good mystic in the industry. I’ll have them come to the studio someday to perform an exorcism dance for you and brew some talisman water for you to drink. Maybe then our Teacher Qi will return to normal.”

Qi Zi moved her hand away from the cold belt buckle and responded dryly, “I’m listening. Go on.”

Qian Qianqian opened a post and placed it in front of Qi Zi.

“Netizens dug up that Luozhu is an adopted daughter of the Lu family. The Lu family’s biological daughter died, and now she’s the only descendant left in the main family. Her rich heiress persona has collapsed.”

Perhaps it was because Luozhu had never played up the rich heiress act in front of her.

Qi Zi blinked in confusion—she had that kind of persona?

“Wasn’t Luozhu’s persona always ‘perpetually broke with less than 200 bucks in her pocket’?”

Qian Qianqian was left speechless.

Exposing a Certain Small-Time Celebrity in the Entertainment Industry Whose Persona Has Collapsed

The original poster shared a few grainy, low-quality photos that looked like they were taken with a potato.

“…Holy crap, isn’t that Luozhu in the third seat of the second row? She was born in an orphanage???”

“If the Lu family hadn’t adopted her, who knows where she’d be screwing in bolts right now.”

“LMAO, acting like some rich miss in front of the camera—so cringe.”

“Okay but she was kinda charming in that parenting show. The ‘speaks without thinking’ persona was lowkey cute.”

“Wake up, anon. From what I know, the Lu family’s real daughter died a few years ago. Guess who benefited the most from that?”

“Damn, Luozhu doesn’t seem like a malicious person, though?”

“Luozhu knows her position isn’t secure, so she shamelessly married Qi Zi to solidify her standing. I bet she doesn’t have much assets to her name and is trying to replicate past schemes through marriage.”

“Luozhu managed to marry Qi Zi, but she’s punching way above her weight.”

Qi Zi skimmed through the toxic comments one by one, casually reporting them as she went.

Qian Qianqian: “I’ve already sent someone to track down the original poster. Don’t worry, this won’t affect your reputation.”

She added, “And it won’t cost Madam too much public goodwill either.”

After saying that, Qian Qianqian fixed a serious gaze on Qi Zi. “Anyway, your contractual marriage doesn’t have much time left. Once Ningning turns four, you two can go your separate ways. You signed a prenup—she shouldn’t be able to take much from you. I’ll line up some lucrative gigs for you afterward, and we’ll earn it all back in no time.”

Qi Zi silently pulled out a finger biscuit from her pocket—originally meant for the orphanage kids—and held it between her fingers like a cigarette before taking a bite.

“She’s not as bad as the rumors say.”

“What?”

“The Lu family is the real villain here.”

…

Luozhu remained oblivious to the live chat and online discussions as she was called upon to play the piano.

An Song sat on the piano bench, eyeing her strangely. “You know how to play?”

Luozhu shrugged. “I drew the short straw—I have to play for the kids.”

Ningning was the first to drag a small stool over and plop down beside the piano.

“My mommy can’t play, Auntie. Don’t scold Mommy, okay? Encourage her!”

An Song: “…”

Ningning gave her mother an encouraging look.

Her gaze was strikingly similar to Lu Luozhu’s when encouraging her to read storybooks.

An Song twitched the corner of her mouth: “If it were me, I would never embarrass myself by doing something I’m not good at.”

Lu Luozhu: “…”

The children in the orphanage, seeing someone come to play the piano, crowded around it eagerly.

The slightly worn piano sat half in shadow, half in sunlight, with beams of light filtering through the fine snow on the glass window and falling onto the black-and-white keys.

Lu Luozhu adjusted the chair height with great seriousness, looking every bit the professional as she tested a few notes.

An Song was about to continue mocking her.

But the alpha before her lowered her head gracefully, soft long hair resting on her shoulders, her slender fingers pressing the keys without the slightest stiffness.

Her fingers danced across the keys like butterflies lightly alighting on flowers in the garden.

The clear, melodious notes flowed through the air, and the children around them obediently sat on the floor, their wide eyes filled with curiosity and longing.

A child sitting next to Ningning tugged at her clothes, looking at her enviously before turning their gaze back to Lu Luozhu.

The music seemed to carry a magical calmness. The piece Lu Luozhu had chosen wasn’t grand like waves crashing against rocks—it was gentle and light, the kind children adored.

When the piece ended, Lu Luozhu lifted her hands from the keys.

The children around her remained entranced for a long moment.

Qi Zi, watching from a distance, focused her gaze on Lu Luozhu’s jade-like fingers.

So she could play the piano.

The alpha was like a treasure chest, always revealing unexpected skills.

Qi Zi silently tapped on her phone—she would have a piano placed in the villa.

She wanted her little canary to play for her.

An Song recognized the piece from the first few notes: “Why did you choose The Maiden’s Prayer?”

Contrary to her expectations, Lu Luozhu played the piano exceptionally well—it didn’t seem like a last-minute effort.

Piano, like calligraphy, wasn’t something one could fake. Those who knew could tell skill at a glance.

Lu Luozhu: “Because this maiden prays that you’ll say less before I do anything.”

An Song’s appreciative smile froze at the corners of her lips, and she reached for a nearby broom to hit her.

From afar, Qi Zi saw Lu Luozhu surrounded by children, being begged to play and sing nursery rhymes.

The kids clamored around her—some tugging at her clothes, others at her pants—while Ningning struggled to maintain order at the front, preventing chaos.

In the Baby Go Forward livestream:

“Damn, Lu Luozhu really showed off.”

“I’m dying—I was just about to say The Maiden’s Prayer has so many embellishments and is really hard to play. I thought she was setting herself up for disaster, but then—”

“This maiden—what kind of response is that?!”

“I thought Lu Luozhu would hate orphanage kids, but she seems to like them.”

“Not exactly. She frowned when one kid pulled her clothes—she looked a little scary.”

“LOL, Lu Luozhu grew up in an orphanage herself. It must feel like coming home.”

“So what if she can play piano? Compared to the money Qi Zi gives her, the hardship of learning piano is nothing.”

“Huh? What gossip are you guys talking about? I don’t get it.”

On Weibo.

@Qi Zi: She’s wonderful, I really like her.
[Image]

In the photo, Lu Luozhu was half-hidden in darkness, half-bathed in sunlight. The alpha sat quietly before a piano, her expression neither the usual feigned obedience nor the sharp-tongued sarcasm—just serene. Her eyes were half-lidded as her fingers lightly danced across the keys.

Time seemed to stand still around her.

The air carried the scent of bergamot pheromones, detectable only to Qi Zi.

Whoever took this photo must have adored her deeply to capture such a perfect angle, freezing this moment of tranquil beauty.

The comments section erupted with screams. Some concerned fans urged Qi Zi to be wary of Lu Luozhu, while others eagerly spilled details about Lu Luozhu’s less-than-glorious background.

Qi Zi replied to one comment: “Thank you for your concern. I know. She’s wonderful.”

Comments: !?

Is my goddess a lovesick fool?

……

At the Lu family mansion.

Lu Shengtian hurled his tablet to the ground, the screen instantly cracking.

“Damn it, who reported the C-city project?”

His secretary whispered, “Rumors say the Xu family was behind it.”

“The Xu family? Xu Huaqing?”

A flicker of fear crossed Lu Shengtian’s face at the mention of that name. “I already repaid $800,000. Isn’t that enough?”

The secretary remained silent as Lu Shengtian paced, his bloodshot eyes brimming with rage.

Had he known his gambling would be exposed, he’d never have played a few rounds with clients during the Southeast Asia project negotiations—much less gotten into debt.

Lu Shengtian cursed under his breath, his gaze landing on his phone.

“Lu Luozhu, that bastard.”

On the screen was a photo of Lu Luozhu and Xu Huaqing standing close, reviewing a message together. Another swipe revealed Xu Huaqing’s Weibo post about a new film collaboration.

Lu Shengtian unleashed another string of curses, his alpha fury making him resemble a caged beast.

With the project stalled and authorities investigating construction materials, a single whistleblower report had thrown the Lu family into turmoil.

“Sir, do you think Lu Luozhu might have uncovered something?”

Lu Shengtian whirled around, his hawk-like eyes piercing his secretary. “What?”

The secretary bowed his head. “During your takeover of the Lanyue Villa project in C-city, an architect grew suspicious. She discovered the contractors cut corners—using substandard steel for foundations, improper pile depth and density, and…”

A shattering glass interrupted him.

“That b1tch Tao You? I know her. I had her run over. So what? Does Lu Luozhu have proof?”

Lu Shengtian grabbed the beta secretary’s collar. “And remember—Lanyue Villa wasn’t just my doing. That bastard’s adoptive parents were dirty too.”

The secretary kept his eyes down. “I’ll keep quiet.”

The secretary didn’t pull out Qi Zi’s past records from his pocket. Tao You was the one who had sponsored Qi Zi’s university education, and Tao You’s advisor from B University happened to be… one of those two who burned to death in the fire.

Lu Shengtian’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets with rage.

He released his grip on the secretary’s collar. “Anyway, let’s first ruin Lu Luozhu’s reputation in the entertainment industry. I refuse to believe her fans or Qi Zi’s feelings for her run that deep.”

…

Nighttime.

In the freshly cleaned room at the orphanage, Ningning was fast asleep wrapped in a small blanket, her cheeks rosy from the heater’s warmth.

Lu Luozhu leaned against the heater with one hand propping her chin, fingers lightly tapping on her tablet.

She was fully aware of the online rumors and exactly who was behind them.

As she yawned softly, a pair of hands suddenly reached from behind, applying just the right pressure to massage her neck.

“What are you working on?”

“Since when do you peek at other people’s screens?” Lu Luozhu turned with a smile, not stopping Qi Zi from seeing the spreadsheet. “I’ve calculated all the expenses the Lu family spent raising me. I plan to pay them back.”

Qi Zi looked surprised. “Only 180,000 yuan?”

Lu Luozhu nodded. “The Lu family didn’t invest much in me.”

Through various methods, she’d tracked down all past expenditure records. Even being generous with calculations, the total only came to 180,000 yuan.

Counting her assets on her fingers, Lu Luozhu listed: “Unicorn has several winter concerts, merchandise sales have been good recently, Li’s Pastries opened branches in Southeast Asia thanks to connections with President Xu, their new viral products sell well domestically, and the stocks I recently invested in are performing decently. Oh, and I’m thinking about starting a tea plantation business after New Year’s…”

“How much liquid cash do you have?”

Lu Luozhu: “180,000 yuan.” The rest was tied up in stocks—unavailable for withdrawal currently.

She was practically the stock market goddess herself.

Qi Zi: “…”

After some thought, Lu Luozhu amended: “Actually more than 180,000.”

Qi Zi pressed: “How much exactly?”

Lu Luozhu: “After repaying the Lu family, I’ll have 900 yuan left—just enough to cover this month’s electricity bill at your place.”

The omega actress, accustomed to grander financial scales, was rendered speechless.

Lu Luozhu thought of her now-empty piggy bank at home, a pang of heartache striking her.

—Money!

—Back to square one overnight!

Qi Zi sat on the creaky little bed, waiting in the dim lamplight for the alpha to ask her.

If Lu Luozhu asked, would Qi Zi possibly refuse?

The alpha stood up, turned the tablet face down on the table, clutched her chest dramatically, and went to shower.

As water sounds came from the bathroom, Qi Zi—already bathed—gently shifted Ningning aside.

It was just money.

This amount meant nothing to Qi Zi.

Perhaps the alpha planned to please her after showering. Qi Zi leisurely undid several buttons of her proper long-sleeved silk pajamas, revealing a generous opening at the collar.

She wore nothing beneath.

No one wears layers under pajamas.

Something was still missing.

From her suitcase, Qi Zi retrieved a pair of earrings—golden moon totems that dangled from her earlobes. The heavy hooks slightly stretched her lobes, delivering a faint sting.

Last time she wore these, Lu Luozhu had kissed her earlobes.

The gold shimmered brilliantly in the modest room.

After a while, Lu Luozhu stepped out of the bathroom drying her hair, her body still radiating warmth from the steam.

Not wanting to disturb Ningning’s sleep, she went to the adjacent room to blow-dry her hair.

“You’re still awake, Madam?”

Qi Zi sat on the bed, wrapped in the blanket Lu Luozhu often used.

Ningning was fast asleep—small noises wouldn’t wake the little piglet.

Qi Zi subtly brushed aside her long hair as she stood alone, the faint scent of pear blossoms lingering around the alpha’s body. Her captivating yet aloof eyes, reminiscent of a snow mountain fox, settled on Lu Luozhu’s hands that had played the piano today.

She had long grown tired of Lu Luozhu only biting her neck without taking things further.

Lu Luozhu yawned sleepily, wrapping her arms around her wife and pulling her under the covers.

“It’s late, let’s sleep.”

Feeling the stiffness in the body she held, Lu Luozhu assumed Qi Zi wasn’t used to the hard mattress. “Bear with it tonight, my dear. Once tomorrow’s shoot wraps up, we’ll go home to sleep.”

Such a delicate actress.

Closing her eyes, Lu Luozhu mulled over repaying the debt. To quell the rumors, she planned to offer more than just 180,000.

She had no intention of asking Qi Zi for money or touching the cash Qi Zi had given her.

Asking for money in daily life was playful banter, but demanding it for major personal matters would only erode their relationship—nothing good would come of it.

Qi Zi, waiting for the alpha’s next move: “……?”