The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 55

55:

At exactly noon, Zhou Lan arrived at the café.

The café was called “Corner Café.” She didn’t like bitter or overly fancy coffee, so she ordered an iced latte and sat by the window to wait.

She wasn’t sure if Chu Zhao would show up, the other woman hadn’t replied.

She knew the things she’d said yesterday could easily make her sound like a lunatic.

If Chu Zhao was too scared to bother with her, that would be perfectly normal.

Zhou Lan leaned back in her chair, handling some work.

Aside from “The Rolling Band,” the girl group from Chu Yue Entertainment had performed a song she wrote for them during their debut stage on a survival show. The song was released the same day the episode aired, free promotion was nothing to scoff at.

To ensure her group’s song wasn’t edited out of the show, Chu Zhao had spent a considerable amount of money.

After the episode aired, Chu Yue’s girl group was hailed as the most talented among the new generation of idol groups, excelling in both singing and dancing.

Speaking of girl groups, the last time China had a proper girl group was at least fifteen years ago. With the rise of idol culture, survival shows had begun popping up.

For the domestic entertainment industry, this was a relatively new model—one they were still learning from others.

Chu Yue’s girl group was genuinely strong, ranking within the top ten of all contestants in terms of skill.

Coupled with the song Zhou Lan had written for them, they blew up overnight. Their song could be heard everywhere—on the streets, in stores, you name it.

Industry insiders took note: it was another hit by “Ming Xiao Zhou.”

Writing and performing her own songs, composing for bands, rock, girl group tracks—it proved she was a versatile talent.

Some who had been hesitant due to pricing began reaching out to commission songs from her.

The contact method she’d created specifically for “Ming Xiao Zhou” now had dozens of new connections.

First, The Rolling Band and Hua Qiao had spread her contact info, followed by those she’d approved.

Every one of them had the same goal: to request a song from her.

Oh, and there was Little Bear—after getting her contact info, Zhou Lan had forgotten to add her due to everything that happened afterward.

But Little Bear had still managed to connect with her through The Rolling Band.

The only question was whether Little Bear knew she and “Ming Xiao Zhou” were the same person.

Zhou Lan filtered through the messages, replying to some. She’d listened to each singer’s voice and selected songs based on their vocal qualities.

Those she’d approved had already been vetted for their credentials and their companies.

In just a few months, she’d released nearly twenty songs. By this year, the name “Ming Xiao Zhou” would be known throughout the entire music industry.

While replying to messages, Zhou Lan kept an eye on the time. As it approached 12:30, she flipped her phone face-down on the table and glanced outside through the glass wall.

With two minutes left until their agreed-upon meeting time, she watched the street with anticipation.

At 12:30, Chu Zhao still hadn’t arrived. Zhou Lan didn’t get up immediately. Instead, she sipped her coffee slowly, finishing the last drops before preparing to leave.

Just as she was about to stand, she caught sight of Chu Zhao walking into the café.

The moment she saw Chu Zhao, Zhou Lan’s eyes lit up, and a smile unconsciously spread across her face.

Chu Zhao spotted her and walked straight over, taking the seat across from her.

It had been a long time since they’d last met, but Chu Zhao was just as stunning as ever. Zhou Lan’s gaze drifted downward, lingering on Chu Zhao’s stomach. The woman was wearing a white blouse, and there was no visible sign of pregnancy.

Maybe it was because of the time apart, but an awkward tension hung between them.

Zhou Lan cleared her throat. “What would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice.”

The café’s orange juice was freshly squeezed, but it wasn’t exactly common to order juice at a coffee shop.

“Are you really pregnant?”

She glanced at Chu Zhao’s stomach again, her eyes filled with doubt.

Chu Zhao’s figure showed no trace of pregnancy, was it just too early to tell?

Chu Zhao ignored the question. “What did you want to talk about?”

Zhou Lan pulled a bank card from behind her phone case and slid it across the table. “The PIN is your birthday.”

Chu Zhao: “???”

Zhou Lan explained, “I heard Chu Yue is going through some difficulties. There’s twenty million in there. If it’s not enough, I’ll figure something else out.”

“Where did you get this money?”

Zhou Lan had donated not just Zhou Corporation but all of the Zhou family’s assets, except for the villa left to Ling He’na.

Even if she’d found a job, there was no way she could have earned this much in such a short time, right?

Zhou Lan couldn’t think of a good excuse, so she told the truth.

“Don’t worry, this money has nothing to do with the Zhou family. I earned it from writing songs. I’ve been saving for a long time.”

“I made a lot of preparations before leaving the Zhou family. I wouldn’t say one thing and then keep using their money.”

Aside from the “saving for a long time” part, everything else was true.

Chu Zhao recalled the song she’d heard Zhou Lan sing in the surveillance footage.

That song was really good. If all of Zhou Lan’s songs were at that level, it made sense she could earn this much.

But for a newcomer in the music industry, selling a song for even tens of thousands was impressive. Only established composers with some reputation could charge over a hundred thousand per song.

The top-tier composers charged by the word—hundreds of thousands, even millions.

Of course, she didn’t believe a young woman like Zhou Lan could already be at that level.

At most, Zhou Lan had some reputation in the industry and had saved up over time.

Zhou Lan had been abroad before, maybe she’d been active in the international music scene.

Hearing Chu Zhao’s thoughts, Zhou Lan turned her head away awkwardly. She’d just casually mentioned it, but Chu Zhao had filled in the gaps herself.

She wondered how Chu Zhao would react if she knew Zhou Lan was “Ming Xiao Zhou.”

But since Chu Zhao hadn’t asked, she couldn’t just blurt out, “Hey, I’m Ming Xiao Zhou.” That would be way too awkward.

She’d thought explaining the money’s origin would make Chu Zhao accept it, but Chu Zhao still refused.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need it.”

How could she not need it? The first step into Luoan for Chu Yue had to be steady and solid.

She’d seen that movie—while it might not be a blockbuster, if it was released on Valentine’s Day or Christmas, it would definitely draw crowds of couples.

Box office success wasn’t a concern. She believed in the film, the only thing missing was funding.

She did need those twenty million, but she couldn’t take Zhou Lan’s money.

“Think of it as a loan. You can pay me back when you’re in a better position.”

Chu Yue was Chu Zhao’s life’s work. At this critical juncture, if Chu Zhao missed this opportunity, she’d regret it, wouldn’t she?

Zhou Lan knew how hard Chu Zhao had worked to get where she was. She really wanted to help.

“Why are you so insistent on lending me money?”

Chu Zhao accepted the orange juice from the waiter, her expression cool as she looked at Zhou Lan.

There were many reasons, but they all boiled down to one.

Zhou Lan was direct. “Because I like you. I know you want to lead Chu Yue forward, and you need this money. I’m just doing what I can to help.”

Chu Zhao was momentarily speechless. Zhou Lan had confessed her feelings before.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe it, but her mindset then had been completely different—tinged with disdain and annoyance.

Now, inexplicably, her mood began to brighten, as if Zhou Lan’s words had some magical power to make her happy.

Chu Zhao was someone who could control her emotions well. Her face remained impassive.

“That just makes it harder for me to accept your money. Otherwise, wouldn’t I owe you a favor?”

Favors were harder to repay than money.

Taking Zhou Lan’s money meant owing her, and Chu Zhao wasn’t the type to want to owe anyone.

Twenty million wasn’t a small sum. If Zhou Lan gave it to her, she probably wouldn’t have much left.

A former rich heiress who didn’t understand how hard it was to earn money, that explained the generosity.

Zhou Lan sighed. Chu Zhao always assumed the worst of her.

She understood, the original Zhou Lan’s image was too deeply ingrained. A few months of good behavior wouldn’t be enough to change that.

No matter how well she behaved, as long as she was the original Zhou Lan, everyone would see her that way—not just Chu Zhao.

“Alright.”

At this point, she didn’t know what else to say.

If Chu Zhao didn’t want the money, she’d have said all she could. What more could she do?

Zhou Lan hummed in acknowledgment and was about to suggest leaving when Chu Zhao suddenly spoke.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Chu Yue is valued at two hundred million. Twenty million would count as your investment.”

Zhou Lan stared at Chu Zhao in shock. In the future, Chu Yue would be worth far more than two hundred million—even the former Zhou Corporation wouldn’t compare.

Investing twenty million now would be a steal for her.

But if she didn’t invest, Chu Zhao wouldn’t take the money. Accepting outside investment would mean Chu Zhao losing absolute control over Chu Yue.

Chu Yue had already taken out significant loans, hitting their limit.

To seize this opportunity, Chu Zhao had two options: seek investors or borrow money.

But borrowing meant owing favors, and Chu Zhao hated that.

Compared to that, letting Zhou Lan invest was the better choice.

One percent of the company’s shares was nothing. Later, if she personally injected more capital, Zhou Lan’s stake would become even more insignificant.

When it came to Chu Yue, Chu Zhao reverted to her strong, decisive businesswoman persona. After running the numbers, she deemed this plan feasible.

Zhou Lan didn’t miss a single thought Chu Zhao had about her.

Hearing that Chu Zhao had a complete plan for her investment, Zhou Lan stopped hesitating and pushed the card back. “The PIN is your birthday.”

Chu Zhao nodded. “Come to the company with me to sign the contract.”

“Huh?”

Zhou Lan froze. Hua Qiao knew her, what if she ran into someone familiar? How would she explain?

“What’s wrong?” Chu Zhao’s eyes held a clear message: You have a problem with that?

Zhou Lan didn’t dare. She quickly shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

Whatever. If she ran into someone, so be it. Now that Jiangning’s situation was resolved, there was no need to hide her identity anymore.

She wouldn’t announce it outright, but she wouldn’t actively conceal it either.

Chu Zhao gave her a scrutinizing look, sensing Zhou Lan was hiding something.

Zhou Lan wasn’t what she really wanted to know was: “Have you had any prenatal checkups since getting pregnant?”

“Do I need to?”

“You haven’t been to the hospital?”

“Nope.”

Zhou Lan had looked it up—apparently, from pregnancy to birth, there were a lot of tests. She hadn’t expected Chu Zhao to have never even gone to the hospital.

Chu Zhao was equally baffled. If she went to the hospital, it’d be to get an abortion—but she’d been delayed. Plus, how was she supposed to know pregnant people needed checkups?