The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 5

5:

Chu Zhao lay weakly on the ground, allowing the nurse to examine her while her icy gaze remained fixed on Zhou Lan’s unconscious form. Only when others glanced her way did she slightly soften her expression.

The rumors surrounding their marriage were already vicious enough. Whenever Zhou Lan went out carousing, the Zhou family would inevitably blame her—never questioning why their precious heir hadn’t been Zhou Lan in the first place if she was so capable.

“Suppressants…”

Zhou Lan coughed up water as she regained consciousness, her first words barely coherent.

The clinic in the residential complex only carried inhibitor patches, proper suppressants were strictly hospital-issued.

The doctor checked Zhou Lan’s vitals and announced, “Ms. Zhou is in her rut. She needs suppressants immediately.”

“We’ve called an ambulance—they’ll bring the medication. But she won’t last long unless…”

His eyes flicked to Chu Zhao, then away. The unspoken implication hung heavy in the air.

Given Zhou Lan’s notorious reputation, everyone present could already imagine the gossip:

The Zhou heiress forced herself on her wife during her rut. The wife resisted to the death, leaping into the pool.

Or worse: Ms. Chu, as a spouse, callously refused to assist her partner in crisis.

Chu Zhao knew the court of public opinion would condemn them both. Zhou Lan’s name was already mud, but she couldn’t afford the Zhou family’s retaliation when they inevitably blamed her for the scandal.

Her lips thinned as she watched Zhou Lan stir back to consciousness under the doctors’ care.

Part of her wished that Zhou Lan wouldn’t wake up at all.

Yet reality was less kind.

“The ambulance should arrive soon.”

Nearly eight minutes had passed since her call. The private hospital servicing Qingjiang’s elite wouldn’t dare dawdle.

As if on cue, sirens wailed in the distance.

Chu Zhao swayed, fighting to stay upright long enough to borrow a nurse’s phone.

“Qingjiang Hospital. Come now.”

Then darkness claimed her.

The night’s physical and psychological torment had finally overwhelmed her.

Meanwhile, Zhou Lan slipped back into unconsciousness, bombarded by Chu Zhao’s mental voice—each thought dripping with loathing for her and the Zhou family.

This confirmed her earlier suspicion: She could hear Chu Zhao’s unspoken thoughts, and only Chu Zhao’s.

A double-edged gift.

While it spared her the guesswork of Chu Zhao’s intentions, the relentless stream of “I’ll kill you” and “disgusting trash” was hardly encouraging.

Her last coherent thought before blacking out:

When will she ever stop wanting me dead?

—

Much later

Zhou Lan woke up in dim light, the faint glow from outside barely illuminating the familiar-yet-alien bedroom.

The layout matched the original Zhou Lan’s memories: a king-sized bed, minimalist furnishings, a glass door leading to a study-turned-gaming den, and beyond that, a walk-in closet connecting to the bathroom.

She was home—not in the hospital. An IV drip snaked from her arm.

Why wasn’t I hospitalized?

The answer came with the creak of the door.

“You’re awake.”

A woman’s voice—cultured but cold.

Zhou Lan turned her head slightly. The figure in the doorway was elegantly preserved, a wealthy matron in her fifties.

Ling He’na. The original Zhou Lan’s mother.

In the original’s memories, she’d been shipped overseas young, deprived of maternal warmth. The Zhous didn’t want a spare heir to cause trouble for the crown prince.

The original had known this and reciprocated their indifference with icy disdain. Their rare interactions revolved solely around her allowance.

Perfect. The estrangement made Zhou Lan’s acting job easier.

She met Ling He’na’s gaze with the original’s trademark aloofness.

Unfazed, Ling He’na launched straight into reprimand:

“How could you involve an ambulance for something so trivial? Do you have any idea the embarrassment you’ve brought upon our family?”

Zhou Lan blinked. Since when is a medical emergency “trivial”?

Ling He’na barreled on: “A Zhou heir hospitalized for lack of suppressants? We’re the laughingstock of Jiangning’s elite!”

Here lay the absurdity of high society:

Suppressants, prohibitively expensive with a short shelf life, were status symbols among the wealthy. The Zhou family, as Jiangning’s primary pharmaceutical distributor, especially couldn’t be seen as failing to procure their own product.

Yet Ling He’na’s priorities—family face over daughter’s health—chilled Zhou Lan more than the IV fluids.

She remained silent, letting the woman monologue.

“Your father is already considering adoption from the collateral branches,” Ling He’na hissed. “If you want to secure our future, either step up or produce an heir while we’re still young enough to mold them properly—”

“Like you did with my brother?” Zhou Lan cut in coldly. “Tell me, was he happy? Am I?”

She pushed upright, ignoring the IV tugging at her vein.

“You discard people when inconvenient and reclaim them at will. Well, here’s news: I don’t want the Zhou empire. Disinherit me. Adopt a dozen heirs. Have another baby yourselves for all I care.”

“But you don’t get to dictate my life, not even if you cut me off completely.”

The outburst served dual purposes: establishing her future departure and staying true to the original’s volatile temperament.

Ling He’na gaped. This was new—the original had always caved when threatened with financial sanctions.

“You’d really throw away your inheritance?” she sneered. “Without us, how will you afford that elite lifestyle? Those designer clothes? Your—”

“Enough.” Zhou Lan massaged her temples. The woman’s inability to grasp basic boundaries was exhausting. “I’m returning abroad. The Zhous can rot for all I care.”

No wonder Chu Zhao despises this family.

Then a more urgent thought struck her.

“Where’s Chu Zhao? Is she alright?”

If she felt this drained after their encounter, the omega must be suffering far worse.

Ling He’na’s face darkened. “That wife of yours nearly made us a public spectacle! Instead of fulfilling her duty during your rut, she called an ambulance like some common—”

Ah. So that’s why she’d been kept home, to avoid scandal.

But Ling He’na wasn’t finished. The doctor’s report had included another damning detail:

“You still haven’t marked her?” she hissed. “An ambitious woman like that needs to be bound permanently. Otherwise, she’ll—”

Zhou Lan tuned out the vitriol, clinging to one miraculous revelation:

She hadn’t marked Chu Zhao.

Their night together had been unavoidable, but at least she’d stopped short of that irreversible step.

A small mercy in this sea of disasters.