*Rumors*
Yuan Lai’s open and burning gaze left Song Qingxu momentarily defenseless. She lowered her eyes to avoid the younger woman’s stare, schooling her expression into perfect calm—the kind that gave nothing away, even to the keenest observer.
But the flush creeping up her earlobes betrayed her. She quickly turned her head, feigning interest in the garden’s blooming clusters of flowers.
Yuan Lai’s sharp eyes caught the tiny slip. She didn’t comment—just smiled wider.
Yuan Jingyun, watching her daughter grinning like a lovesick fool, couldn’t help twitching at the corner of her mouth.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked, exasperated.
Yuan Lai gave a playful whistle. “Nothing. Just thought of something that makes me happy.” Her gaze, however, drifted uncontrollably back to Song Qingxu.
“Tone down that spoiled-young-mistress act of yours,” Yuan Jingyun scolded. “And when you’re out, don’t go around telling people you’re my daughter.”
“Yes, Auntie Yuan.”
Yuan Jingyun made as if to swat her. Naturally, Yuan Lai wasn’t foolish enough to stand there and take it—she darted behind Song Qingxu for cover.
The honeysuckle scent she’d marked on the Omega before lingered faintly in the air. Yuan Lai had the sudden urge to pull the woman into her arms, but reason kept her still.
“I just want to see if your skin is thicker than the garden wall,” Yuan Jingyun huffed, her elegance gone. She was every bit the mother driven mad by a troublesome child, chasing her without mercy.
A thought flashed through Yuan Lai’s mind—an opportunity.
She slid an arm around Song Qingxu’s waist from behind, bent to rest her head against the other woman’s back, and steered her forward toward Yuan Jingyun—using her as a shield.
When Yuan Jingyun moved left, Yuan Lai pushed Song Qingxu left; when she moved right, Yuan Lai pushed her right.
Trapped between them, Song Qingxu was like a marionette, completely at Yuan Lai’s mercy.
“Let go of Qingxu!” Yuan Jingyun snapped.
Still clinging to the Omega, Yuan Lai inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scent. She pretended to bargain: “Promise not to hit me, and I’ll let go.”
“Fine!” Yuan Jingyun agreed without hesitation.
Reluctance flickered in Yuan Lai’s eyes. She could no longer openly hold Song Qingxu’s waist, nor could she breathe in that intoxicating honeysuckle scent.
Her gaze dropped to her empty palm, as if replaying the sensation in her mind.
Yuan Jingyun’s eyes darted between the two of them, a spark of intrigue lighting her face.
“Wang Ma, I’m tired. Help me back to my room for a rest,” she said casually.
The housekeeper immediately caught on and left the vast garden to the “young couple.”
A breeze lifted a few strands of hair into Song Qingxu’s flushed eyes.
Without thinking, Yuan Lai reached out and tucked them gently behind her ear.
Only when she drew her hand back did she realize what she’d done. She stole a glance at Song Qingxu, relaxing when she saw no sign of anger.
Trying to keep the moment going, she asked, “Are you going out this afternoon or staying in?”
“Out.”
Realizing the reply was curt, Song Qingxu added, “I have an ad shoot.”
Yuan Lai feigned nonchalance. “I’ll take you. I’m going out this afternoon too.”
Song Qingxu never asked where Yuan Lai went, just as Yuan Lai never pried into her affairs. They kept a careful, unspoken distance.
But today, Yuan Lai had crossed that invisible line on her own.
“Mm.”
That single, cool syllable was enough to send a warm flicker through Yuan Lai’s chest—she’d found herself a legitimate excuse to be with her wife.
Of course, “wife” was a title she only dared use in her head. Saying it aloud might make Song Qingxu think she was frivolous.
One looked at the sky, the other at the ground. Silence stretched between them.
Yuan Lai’s mind was blank except for the frantic search for a new topic; Song Qingxu, meanwhile, wondered why Yuan Lai hadn’t left yet—and why she seemed unusually patient today.
Finally, Yuan Lai blurted, “The flowers are looking nice.”
“Mm…”
“Which one do you like? I’ll pick it for you.” Yuan Lai said.
Song Qingxu : “…”
“These are rare breeds my mother had transplanted. Took ages for them to bloom. If you pick one, she’ll…”
“…Forget I said anything.” Yuan Lai dared not provoke her mother’s wrath.
She missed the faint curve at the corner of Song Qingxu’s lips, gone in an instant.
________________________________________
At lunch, Yuan Lai kept sneaking glances at her.
Song Qingxu lowered her eyes and pretended not to notice.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Yuan Jingyun suddenly demanded, setting her chopsticks down.
“Nothing.” Yuan Lai replied.
Afraid of drawing Song Qingxu’s attention, Yuan Lai ducked her head and shoveled rice into her mouth.
“If it’s nothing, why have you been staring at someone all through the meal?” Yuan Jingyun took the soup Wang Ma had served her but didn’t drink it.
“Eat your food instead of thinking about nonsense.” She slammed the bowl down hard enough to splash the soup. “As long as I’m alive, you and Song Qingxu are not getting divorced.”
Having seen the garden scene earlier, she’d assumed Yuan Lai was finally ready to live peacefully with her spouse. She hadn’t expected it to be just another trick—and worse, to see her brazenly staring in front of her.
Yuan Jingyun stormed away from the table, too full of anger to eat.
“Mom! You’ve got me all wrong! I’m innocent!” Yuan Lai called after her.
And she was. She’d only been memorizing which dishes Song Qingxu liked, so she could use them later to win her over. But apparently her mother thought she was provoking her instead.
If even her own mother misunderstood her, then her wife…
Yuan Lai quickly turned back to explain.
“Song Qingxu, I—”
“You don’t need to repeat yourself. I remember what you said the other day.” She rose and pushed her chair in. “I know I’m only your wife in name. I don’t have any illusions about you or your family’s assets.”
In truth, the original Yuan Lai’s words had been far crueler—mocking Song Qingxu for “clinging” to her family because of a casual joke between their mothers years ago, and outright telling her she could never be loved by her.
Song Qingxu didn’t want to dwell on the memory. She turned and walked away.
Yuan Lai could only swallow the injustice. She couldn’t very well tell them outright it hadn’t been her who said those things.
Fine. If she had to take the blame, she would. If enduring it meant eventually winning herself a perfect wife, it was still a bargain.
Adjusting her mindset, she chased after her.
“Song Qingxu, wait!”
Her expression was rare for her—visibly displeased. Still, she stopped, watching Yuan Lai jog toward her.
Something unnamable stirred in her chest, but she quickly buried it, chalking all of today’s oddities up to last night’s temporary mark.
She despised the thought that she was becoming dependent on the very person who had once hurt her.
Panting, Yuan Lai caught up. “When… when are you leaving? I’ll drive you. We agreed before lunch, remember?”
Song Qingxu hadn’t expected her to chase her down just to say that.
In the end, the family driver took them both out.
“I’ll drop you at your shoot first,” Yuan Lai said in the car. “My stuff can wait.”
“Mm.”
She didn’t look at her, gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
Yuan Lai had no afternoon plans at all—she’d just wanted the excuse to send her off. The original Yuan Lai had lived without ambition, letting her mother handle the family business while she partied with friends.
Now, sitting beside Song Qingxu without touching, Yuan Lai breathed in the Omega’s scent and felt a quiet peace settle over her.
She stayed silent, letting her presence speak for itself.
Only when they arrived did she break it. “Text me when you’re done. I’ll pick you up.”
Seeing hesitation on Song Qingxu’s face, she asked, “What is it? Do you have something after?”
“We don’t have each other’s contact info,” Song Qingxu said flatly.
Yuan Lai blinked. Married, yet no way to call each other.
She handed over her phone, added her, and then asked casually, “Where are your agent and assistant? Why are you alone?”
“They’re already on set,” she replied. In truth, she had only an agent and no dedicated assistant—any assistants were temps assigned by the company.
“I see.” Yuan Lai nodded, watching her walk away until she vanished from sight.
“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked.
Yuan Lai picked a random mall. Leaning back in her seat, she pulled out her phone and began looking up more about this novel’s world.
She typed in Song Qingxu’s name. The search results were full of malicious rumors:
[New Best Actress Kept as a Mistress]
[Star Throws Diva Tantrums in Private]
[How Far Song Qingxu Went to Marry Into a Rich Family]
…and one involving herself:
[Rumor: Actress’s Partner Is an Elderly, Grey-Haired Alpha]
Yuan Lai touched her thick, glossy hair and nearly laughed in disbelief.
She dug deeper into Song Qingxu’s entertainment company—Weizhi Culture.
There was only one moneymaker: Song Qingxu. The company bled her dry to support a stable of nobodies.
Even after she won the Best Actress award, they didn’t seek good scripts to hone her skills—they shoved her onto variety shows to promote rookies.
Fans had tried to boycott, but their protests fell on deaf ears.
Now Yuan Lai finally understood what her mother had meant earlier that morning: If you had even a shred of care for Song Qingxu, you wouldn’t let her be bullied like this.
The original Yuan Lai really had been heartless.
Not her.
She immediately called her mother. “Mom, I want to start an entertainment company.”
Silence. Then—
Beep beep beep.
The line went dead.
“That’s it, Wang Ma,” Yuan Jingyun said beside the housekeeper. “Scammers are getting better these days. They can even fake voices now.”
________________________________________
Song Qingxu’s shoot that day was for a high-end jewelry brand. With the family driver’s help, she arrived ten minutes early.
Her agent was nowhere in sight, nor was any on-site contact. Frowning, she called her.
“Ge-jie, I’m here. Where are you?”
“You’re early,” Ge He’s voice crackled through background noise. “Wait for me, I’ll be right there.”
Song Qingxu hung up, brows drawing tighter. Ge He had never been a stellar agent, but they’d been together since her debut. Out of sentiment, she’d kept her on.
A shrill, mocking voice cut through her thoughts.
“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Rich Alpha herself,” drawled her long-time rival, Lin Yajie, sauntering over. “Your rich Alpha didn’t even give you a wedding, let alone a diamond ring.”
Everyone said Song Qingxu had married into money, but if that was true, why hadn’t her spouse defended her from the constant smears?
Her slender fingers were bare—no wedding band.
Seeing her silence, Lin Yajie was even more convinced of the rumors she’d heard: that Song Qingxu’s so-called rich Alpha didn’t care for her at all.