Top-Tier Omega: Chasing Alpha to the Crematorium – Chapter 21
by Little PandaDo You Want Me to Return the Slap?
After Song Qingpei started at Blue Sea, everything slowly began to fall into place.
She worked hard to integrate into her new life, busy every day absorbing new knowledge. She got along well with her new boss, Murong Ruixue; their relationship was like that of a mentor and a friend, and Song Qingpei learned many things she had never been exposed to before.
Song Song, too, went from being clingy to much more cheerful. Every day, she would pester Song Qingpei with questions about mechs, her little mouth chattering nonstop. Once she learned that her mama had to study a lot before she could design a mech for her, she stopped whining for her to come home early and instead started acting like a “chicken mom,”1 urging her to learn more at the company.
Song Qingpei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
As for the great mountain that once weighed her down—the one she was deliberately ignoring—Ming Yu was busy with military meetings every day. She left early and returned late, with almost no time to find fault.
This, in turn, gave Song Qingpei a welcome respite. She even thought that if they could maintain this relatively peaceful state until their agreed-upon time, it would be for the best.
Unfortunately, this was merely her wishful thinking. Ming Yu had long been dissatisfied.
She had assumed that after they cleared up the misunderstanding about the matchmaking meeting, Song Qingpei’s attitude would soften.
But Song Qingpei remained as cold as ever, to the point of ignoring her completely.
For a job with no real prospects, she left early and came home late. The two of them barely saw each other. Even when they did have a brief encounter, Song Qingpei would just offer a few perfunctory, polite words, her impatience practically written on her face.
Ming Yu couldn’t quite describe how she felt, only that there was a tightness in her chest, a sour ache.
She believed she could actively draw a line with Song Qingpei, but what right did Song Qingpei have to give her the cold shoulder? And to dare call her disgusting? Apart from having relations with Song Qingpei, she had always kept herself clean.
The more Ming Yu thought about it, the more resentful she became. She could no longer console herself with excuses about Song Qingpei playing hard to get.
After finishing her work, Ming Yu pressed her temples in frustration. She still couldn’t resist opening her inbox.
She had never told Ming Rui to call off the people watching Song Qingpei.
The emails showed nothing unusual in Song Qingpei’s movements—it was just a straight line between home and the company every day. But seeing the photos of Song Qingpei laughing and chatting with Murong Ruixue over a meal was increasingly jarring. As far as she could remember, Song Qingpei had never smiled like that.
She scrolled further, growing more irritated with each picture, and was about to close the email.
Suddenly, the date on the email caught her eye—08.24.
She froze, her thoughts momentarily hazy. Today… was her birthday.
Strictly speaking, it was the day she had been injured, lost her memory, and been rescued by Song Qingpei.
Because she couldn’t remember anything back then, Song Qingpei, afraid she would be sad, had celebrated her birthday on this day every year. It was just a humble cake, but on it, she would always write a comical line: Wishing Mengmeng a speedy recovery of her memories.
Mengmeng was the name Song Qingpei had given her. She’d said that meeting her felt like a dream.
Later, Song Qingpei had called her Mengmeng, wife, baby. At her most cringe-worthy, she would hold her and call her “my dearest wifey…”
These had once been shameful memories she refused to recall, but thinking of them now, she suddenly didn’t feel so resistant.
Perhaps it was because Song Qingpei had said she loved her. If all of that was born from love…
On a whim, Ming Yu couldn’t stop herself from sending Song Qingpei a message:
【I’ll be home early tonight.】
Only after sending it did she realize how impulsive she’d been.
She wanted to retract it, hesitated for a moment, but ultimately left it.
Song Qingpei should understand what I mean.
She even thought that perhaps Song Qingpei was already preparing something. She might as well offer an olive branch, and then she could apologize to Song Qingpei later. She was sure Song Qingpei would know when to back down.
Just as Ming Yu was lost in her thoughts, there was a knock on the door.
She snapped back to reality, closed her inbox, and then said, “Come in.”
The door opened, and a tall female Alpha in a black, gold-trimmed military uniform strode in. She had a narrow waist and long legs.
She looked to be around twenty-five, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Behind the lenses, a pair of “peach blossom eyes”2 exuded charm from every angle.
Ming Yu frowned at the sight of her visitor.
This was not someone easy to deal with. Zhan Nansheng was not only a military academy classmate from her year but also an old rival. She never visited without a reason,3 and Ming Yu already had a good idea of why she was here.
Zhan Nansheng approached, tilted her head slightly, and smiled. “Admiral Ming, long time no see.”
Ming Yu didn’t rise, merely saying coolly, “Lieutenant General Zhan, is there something I can help you with?”
As expected, after a couple of pleasantries, Zhan Nansheng got straight to the point.
She looked at Ming Yu, her eyes sharp and aggressive. “Marshal Lin spoke to you about establishing the Planet Lan Advanced Military Academy.”
Ming Yu nodded. “He did.”
“And you’re going to be the first chancellor?”
Zhan Nansheng stared at her, her gaze probing.
Ming Yu looked up, meeting her eyes with a sharp glint in her own. “That is a military secret. I cannot disclose it.”
Her words were blunt, and Zhan Nansheng’s face flushed red, then went pale.
She was the youngest and most outstanding commander in the military. Establishing an advanced military academy was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to win over young officers and cultivate her own power base. The promotion and glory of this position should have been hers.
Now, Ming Yu had intercepted it halfway.
It had been like this since their academy days. The two of them were constantly being compared. Her family had placed high hopes on her, always wanting her to put that illegitimate daughter Ming Yu in her place and slap the Ming family’s face on behalf of her aunt, the original wife.
But every time, Ming Yu came out on top, causing her, an Alpha, to lose all face. How could she swallow this indignity?
“Heh, Ming Yu, this chancellorship isn’t something you can have just because you want it.”
Zhan Nansheng sneered, a deep gloom flashing in her eyes. “Your Seventh Fleet is stationed off-world year-round. You have a shallow foundation on Planet Lan and no real support. I also know you have no interest in this matter, which is why I came to you specifically. I hope you’ll be sensible and yield the position to someone more worthy.”
As if she’d heard a joke, Ming Yu raised an eyebrow. “I am not interested in it, but it is my duty to cultivate new military talent for the Federation. As long as I accept this task, I will certainly do my utmost and not betray Marshal Lin’s trust.”
Though her words sounded like standard rhetoric, each one was forceful and resonant.
“My, what a dutiful officer. You’re quite good at seizing the moral high ground.”
Zhan Nansheng stood up, looking down at her condescendingly. She enunciated each word. “You’d best not get too complacent. I’d like to see if you can actually hold on to this position.”
“Then we shall wait and see,” Ming Yu said noncommittally.
Seeing her unmoved, Zhan Nansheng’s anger flared. “Ming Yu, you’re just a shameful illegitimate daughter. If my cousin hadn’t died so young, you and that mistress mother of yours would never have had the chance to rise up. I’d like to see how long you can stay so smug.”
Ming Yu had always been secretive about her origins; it was a pain she could never confidently refute.
And every word Zhan Nansheng said was true. She couldn’t deny it. If the Ming family heir hadn’t died unexpectedly, and the original wife hadn’t divorced Ming Yuanze in a rage, she truly would never have had the chance to become the legitimate heir of the Ming family.
Her face turned a ghastly mix of pale and ashen.
But Zhan Nansheng was just getting started, eager to air all of Ming Yu’s dirty laundry.
“I also heard that you disappeared for two years and had a bastard with god-knows-who. And you had the gall to bring the child back in broad daylight and even throw a grand recognition banquet, as if you were afraid people wouldn’t know. Truly, if the upper beam is crooked, the lower ones will be askew.4 You’re just as cheap as that mistress of a mother, and even your child is…”
“Zhan Nansheng!”
Ming Yu shot to her feet, a murderous aura emanating from her eyes. “Watch your words!”
Ming Yu never refuted what her mother had done, but attacking her daughter was undoubtedly touching her reverse scale5—an unforgivable crime!
Seeing her fury, Zhan Nansheng scoffed. “Am I not speaking the truth?”
Ming Yu took a deep breath, trying to control her anger.
There was a certain type of person in this world who would gain an inch and advance a foot. If you didn’t teach them a lesson, they would never know what pain was.
Zhan Nansheng was a prime example.
Ming Yu chose to strike directly at her weak spot, a cold smile playing on her lips. “Lieutenant General Zhan, the Marshal has already authorized me to pre-select a list of candidates for the academy’s creation. I’ve heard that your subordinates, Lin Qi and Jiang Ze, are exceptionally capable. Why not transfer them over to contribute to the academy’s establishment? What do you think?”
“You…” Zhan Nansheng was speechless with rage.
Lin Qi and Jiang Ze were her right and left arms.6 If Ming Yu transferred them away, it would be a direct slap in the face.
Zhan Nansheng was at a loss for words. Ming Yu continued unhurriedly, “If there’s nothing else, you may leave.”
“You!”
Zhan Nansheng was seething, but she had no counterattack. She could only glare at Ming Yu hatefully before storming out and slamming the door.
Once she was gone, a sarcastic curve formed on Ming Yu’s lips.
She was well aware of the Zhan family’s standing in the military. She didn’t want to antagonize them, but that didn’t mean she would let someone walk all over her!
Her words just now weren’t merely a threat; she had to follow through. So she opened a document and added the names Lin Qi and Jiang Ze to the list. They were genuinely talented individuals, which would only make Zhan Nansheng feel the pain of losing a limb all the more keenly.
Heh, I’d like to see just how Zhan Nansheng plans to challenge me now.
After dealing with the matter, Ming Yu quickly pushed Zhan Nansheng from her mind.
After all, the two had clashed many times over the years, and the number of times Zhan Nansheng had gained the upper hand could be counted on one hand. She had never considered this person a true rival. Her rival had always been the Zhan family behind her.
Ming Yu rubbed her brow and subconsciously glanced at her Smart A.I., her frown deepening.
Still no reply.
Hasn’t Song Qingpei seen it yet?
She would never have imagined that Song Qingpei had not only seen it but had also deleted it without a second thought.
As for why she deleted it?
Song Qingpei could only say it was because looking at it was annoying.
The moment she saw that inexplicable message, her hard-won peace of mind was instantly shattered.
Of course she remembered what day it was. She remembered it very clearly. In fact, she had been feeling a little down all day. It wasn’t that she still held any unrealistic hopes for Ming Yu, just a vague sense of melancholy.
After all, her big, gentle, clingy wife was gone just like that. Wasn’t she allowed to miss her a little?
Thinking of the foul demeanor of the memory-restored Ming Yu, and having to face that same face every day, was agonizing. She felt her impression of the wife in her memory was constantly being distorted, and even the love she once felt was being worn away.
She could only keep hypnotizing herself: her wife was dead. The current Ming Yu was just a painted-skin demon7 wearing the same face.
As for why Ming Yu had sent her that bizarre message, she couldn’t be bothered to think about it.
They should just mind their own business, like well water not interfering with river water,8 and raise their daughter properly. As for all the other messy, complicated nonsense, she had neither the mind nor the energy for it. What little passion she had left had been completely extinguished by Ming Yu.
And so, she quickly put the matter out of her mind and focused on her work.
Over this period, she and Murong Ruixue had developed an excellent rapport. This was her first time working on the repair and inspection of a combat mech, and she was extremely focused.
The mech looked like a giant bird. It wasn’t large, only about five meters high, its shell covered in golden tempered glass with excellent bulletproof properties.
“This is a ‘Flying Bird’ model primary combat mech. Its flight range is about fifteen light-years, so it can only make short-range interstellar journeys. Its main weapon is the Laser Triangular Prism Spike, which has good penetration and destructive power, but its attack range is limited and its overall power isn’t strong.”
“Here are the mech’s controls and the Mental Strength Sensor,” Murong Ruixue said, pointing to the computer screen on the console. “You can try to operate it with your mental strength.”
Song Qingpei placed her hand on the sensor. The console slowly rose, transforming into a small tablet.
She tried to operate the main A.I. but found that no matter how she entered the commands, they wouldn’t register in the system. This surprised her.
“Ruixue-jie, it seems the console and the system are malfunctioning?” Song Qingpei said, uncertain.
Murong Ruixue nodded. “That’s right. This mech likely has a main A.I. system failure, which is preventing it from receiving commands effectively. It needs to be repaired.”
As Murong Ruixue initiated the diagnostics and checked the damage to the mech’s main A.I., she explained the situation. Song Qingpei listened intently, carefully recording all the data.
After the inspection was complete, she said, “Ruixue-jie, I don’t think the damage to this mech is particularly severe. It can be repaired.”
“No rush. It’s getting late. We’ll fix it tomorrow.”
“Alright.”
After some discussion, they decided to let Song Qingpei try her hand at it the next day.
Song Qingpei was a little surprised. “Me… Can I do it?”
Murong Ruixue smiled. “Even if you don’t believe in yourself, you should believe in my judgment.”
Hearing this, Song Qingpei felt a little embarrassed and said earnestly, “Thank you, Ruixue-jie. I’ll definitely work hard.”
By the time the two of them left the repair bay, it was already nine at night.
Song Qingpei was startled, not realizing how quickly time had passed. She began to pack her things to go home.
Murong Ruixue spoke up from beside her. “Qingpei, would you like to have dinner together?”
Song Qingpei was about to answer when her Smart A.I. rang. She answered it, and Song Song’s big, smiling face immediately appeared.
“Mama, when are you coming home?”
“What’s wrong, baby? You miss Mama?” Song Qingpei laughed.
“Mhm, I miss Mama so much. Song Song wants to sleep with Mama tonight.”
“Oh, is that so…”
Song Qingpei glanced at Murong Ruixue apologetically. “I’m so sorry. My daughter is a bit clingy. I hope you don’t mind.”
“She’s a child, it’s normal. You should hurry back.”
They exchanged a few more words, and Murong Ruixue left with a smile.
Song Qingpei watched her retreating back with a slight frown. She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but Murong Ruixue was being far too good to her, which always made her feel a faint sense of unease.
The thought felt ungrateful,9 but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
Song Qingpei returned home, her mind heavy with thoughts, only to see Ming Yu and Song Song waiting for her in the great hall.
Seeing her, Song Song cheered as usual and threw herself into her arms. “Mama, Mama~”
“Baby, let me hold you.”
Song Qingpei smiled and picked Song Song up. Her peripheral vision caught Ming Yu, whose face was as cold as ever.
She couldn’t help but think of the text message, but of course, she wasn’t going to actively seek out a scolding. She decisively chose to play dumb.
She said directly, “It’s getting late. I’ll take Song Song to bed.”
With that, without another glance at Ming Yu, she carried Song Song and headed straight upstairs.
Ming Yu, completely ignored, felt her chest heave with anger. Her expression was terrifyingly dark.
She had waited all day. The message had vanished as if a stone sunk into the sea.
She had thought Song Qingpei might have a surprise for her, so she skipped dinner, finished her work, and came home early. She waited from seven until past ten. If she hadn’t coaxed Song Song into calling Song Qingpei, the woman probably wouldn’t have bothered coming back at all.
And when she finally did return, she completely ignored her!
Not only did she ignore her, she wouldn’t even spare her a single glance!
Ming Yu gritted her teeth as she watched the mother and daughter go upstairs. In a fit of rage, she grabbed a cushion from the sofa and hurled it across the room. It flew several meters before landing pitifully on the floor, forgotten.
Song Qingpei carried Song Song back to the room, and they talked for a while.
Seeing the little one was still quite energetic, she found a picture book for Song Song to look at, then turned and went into the bathroom to shower.
Song Qingpei wiped her face as the hot water rushed down, washing away her exhaustion.
Unbeknownst to her, the sound of the water drowned out a knock on the door.
Song Song hopped off the bed and saw Ming Yu standing outside. “Mommy~” she said in her sweet, childish voice.
Ming Yu glanced inside and asked, “Where’s your mama?”
“Mama’s taking a shower.”
Hearing this, Ming Yu hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Is your mama still angry?”
Song Song’s big, dark eyes rolled. “Did you make Mama angry again?”
“I didn’t.”
Song Song pouted, her expression clearly saying, ‘I don’t believe a word of your nonsense.’ “It must be because you did something to let Mama down again, so Mama is angry~”
“That’s not…”
Ming Yu tried to explain, but Song Song tilted her head, confused. “Why don’t you try to soothe Mama?”
At this, Ming Yu said helplessly, “I don’t know how.”
“Mommy, you’re so silly,” Song Song said with a serious face. “You just have to kiss her, hug her, and act cute. Then Mama will be happy again~”
Ming Yu was speechless.
“You can do it! You have to soothe Mama properly~”
As Song Song finished speaking, the bathroom door opened, and Song Qingpei emerged in a night-robe.
Her snow-white robe made her skin look even more radiant and fair. Her long hair was down, revealing her delicate collarbones, and the beautiful curves of her chest were faintly visible, sparking the imagination.
Ming Yu stared for a moment, then quickly averted her gaze.
Song Qingpei also froze, the smile on her face stiffening.
She hadn’t expected Ming Yu to come looking for her. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?” she asked, surprised.
The question ignited a fire in Ming Yu’s heart, but she was too embarrassed to bring up the ‘birthday.’ She scrutinized Song Qingpei, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions.
The look made Song Qingpei very uncomfortable. She was about to ask her to leave.
“Mama~”
Song Song came skipping over, tugging on Song Qingpei’s sleeve and looking up with her little face. “Tonight, can you both sleep with me?”
Song Qingpei was taken aback. “What?”
Song Song blinked. “Mommy and Mama sleep with me together, okay?”
This was the first time Song Song had made such a request, but there was no way Song Qingpei would agree.
She almost blurted out, “No…”
“Okay,” Ming Yu said, even faster than her.
“Yay!” Song Song waved her arms excitedly, jumping up and down on the spot.
A complex emotion flashed in Song Qingpei’s eyes. She looked at Ming Yu, completely baffled. Strangely, Ming Yu’s cold, grim face had suddenly softened, and she even offered her a smile.
Song Qingpei felt like she was seeing a ghost. Had Ming Yu been possessed today?
Without giving Song Qingpei a chance to object, Song Song excitedly pulled both of their hands toward the bed.
“Hurry, hurry! I want to sleep with Mama and Mommy tonight~”
Song Song shouted with excitement, pulling Ming Yu with one hand and dragging Song Qingpei onto the bed with the other.
Song Qingpei didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but seeing the look of anticipation on her daughter’s face, she couldn’t bear to refuse. She let Song Song pull her onto the bed.
“Lie down, quick! Time for sleep!”
Song Song lay right in the middle, speaking to the two adults sitting awkwardly on either side.
Ming Yu glanced at Song Qingpei, then silently lay down on her side, though her gaze remained fixed on Song Qingpei.
“Mama, aren’t you going to sleep?”
Seeing her mama hadn’t moved, Song Song looked at Song Qingpei with wide, expectant eyes.
Helpless, Song Qingpei had no choice but to ignore Ming Yu’s stare and lie down on the other side. She patted Song Song. “Alright, Song Song, go to sleep now!”
Song Song nodded and said obediently, “Goodnight, Mama. Goodnight, Mommy.”
“Goodnight.”
With Ming Yu right beside her, Song Qingpei didn’t want to acknowledge her. She reached out and turned off the light.
In the darkness, Song Qingpei’s eyelid wouldn’t stop twitching.
All this time, she had been trying so hard to restrain herself, to not think about the past, even deliberately distancing herself and acting cold, all in the hope that she could move on as quickly as possible.
And yet, just when she had finally let go, Ming Yu was inexplicably clinging to her again.
She lay with her eyes open in the dark, complaining silently. Ming Yu really wouldn’t let her think well of her at all…
Finally, she sighed and turned over, her back to Ming Yu.
Ming Yu turned her head, her dark eyes staring silently at Song Qingpei’s back, unmoving.
She didn’t know why she had agreed to Song Song’s request. There was just a faint voice in her heart that didn’t want this day to end so inexplicably.
They lay in silence, only the sound of their breathing filling the air.
A long, long time passed…
Long enough that they could hear Song Song’s quiet, even breaths, confirming she was asleep.
Song Qingpei, her back still to Ming Yu, suddenly sat up. “Ming Yu?” she called out softly in the darkness.
Ming Yu didn’t answer, but her breathing suddenly grew heavier.
“I know you’re not asleep.”
Not wanting to admit her own awkwardness, Ming Yu gave a deliberate cough. “What is it?”
What could it be? Song Qingpei raised an eyebrow slightly. “Song Song’s asleep. You can go back to your room now.”
“…” Ming Yu didn’t speak. She suddenly sat up, staring straight at her.
Though the light was dim, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and Song Qingpei could feel that scrutinizing gaze, like spikes on her back. It made her very uncomfortable.
She frowned. “It’s late. I need to rest.”
A long, heavy breath hung in the air.
Song Qingpei felt a growing sense of unease and was about to speak.
Suddenly, a shadow rose up on the bed, lunging toward her. It pressed down on her shoulders, pinning her against the edge of the bed. “What… what are you doing?”
Ming Yu leaned in close, her voice like ice as she suppressed her fury. “Song Qingpei, what do you think I’m doing?”
Afraid of waking Song Song, Song Qingpei didn’t struggle. Instead, she reached out and—click—flicked on the light.
The room was instantly flooded with brightness. Ming Yu’s exquisite, stunning features came into view, her cold eyes burning with rage.
“Ming Yu, what the hell do you want?” Song Qingpei said, keeping her voice low.
“Song Qingpei, what day is it today? Don’t tell me you forgot,” Ming Yu gritted out.
It would have been better if she hadn’t mentioned it. The moment she did, Song Qingpei’s expression turned to ice. A derisive smile touched her lips as she looked at Ming Yu mockingly.
In that instant, Ming Yu’s imposing aura faltered. She muttered in a low voice, “You used to always…”
“Always what? Celebrate your birthday? Give you a gift?”
Song Qingpei was so incensed by her shamelessness that she laughed, a string of cold, mirthless sounds. “Heh, what a joke. On my birthday, you gave me a slap. Are you asking me to return the slap?”
Ming Yu was struck dumb, staring at her in disbelief.
Song Qingpei gritted her teeth. “Let go of me. Get out!”
Ming Yu, still processing, didn’t react. Her hands remained clamped on Song Qingpei’s shoulders.
Her patience gone, Song Qingpei raised her hand and swung it at that picturesque face.
SLAP—
The sound was crisp. Ming Yu’s head snapped to the side.
She clutched her right cheek, staring blankly at Song Qingpei. The anger in her eyes slowly vanished, replaced by utter disbelief.
Footnotes
- ‘Chicken mom’ (jī mā) is modern Chinese slang for a ‘helicopter parent’ who injects their children with ‘chicken blood’ (dǎ jīxuè) — a metaphor for stimulants — by pushing them to study relentlessly and take on many extracurriculars.
- ‘Peach blossom eyes’ (táohuā yǎn) is a term in Chinese physiognomy for eyes that are long with a slight upward curve at the corners, resembling the shape of a peach petal. They are traditionally considered highly attractive and alluring.
- The original idiom is ‘wú shì bù dēng sānbǎo diàn,’ which literally means ‘one does not enter the Hall of the Three Treasures (a Buddhist temple) for no reason.’ It’s a common way of saying someone only shows up when they want something.
- A Chinese proverb (shàngliáng bùzhèng xiàliáng wāi) meaning that if leaders or parents set a bad example, their subordinates or children will follow suit.
- The ‘reverse scale’ (nìlín) is a concept from Chinese mythology. A dragon is said to have a single scale on its throat that grows backwards. Touching it will send the dragon into an uncontrollable rage. The term is used to describe a person’s absolute bottom line or something that should never be brought up.
- A common idiom (zuǒbǎngyòubì) for one’s most trusted and indispensable assistants.
- ‘Painted-skin demon’ (huàpí guǐ) is an allusion to a famous story from the classic Chinese text ‘Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio’ (Liáozhāi Zhìyì). It refers to a demon that wears a beautiful, painted human skin to disguise its monstrous true form.
- The idiom ‘well water does not interfere with river water’ (jǐngshuǐ bù fàn héshuǐ) means for two parties to mind their own business and not interfere with each other.
- The original term is ‘báiyǎnláng,’ literally ‘white-eyed wolf,’ a common idiom for an ungrateful person who repays kindness with malice.
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