Chapter 21

◎There’s Another Third Miss Liang in This World.◎

It wasn’t until Liang Shi went downstairs that she understood the full meaning of those words. The complete sentence should have been: you sleep on the bed tonight, I’ll take the floor.

But what kind of monster would an Alpha in good health have to be to make an Omega who had just come off her heat, just been discharged from the hospital, and whose body was still on the edge of danger sleep on the floor?

Liang Shi couldn’t do it. She figured no decent person could.

After the three of them finished dinner, Xu Qingzhu went to the study. Xu Qingya went back to her room to sleep. With nothing else to do, Liang Shi returned to the room to research.

She desperately needed to figure out what kind of monsters surrounded the original host. The ones who had sent her disgusting texts before, the ones in group chats talking about sharing her wife. What the hell was wrong with these people.

She’d already left all the group chats, but the contacts remained. A horde of people were still messaging her. Every refresh brought down a cascade of notification dots, enough to drive any neat freak insane.

Liang Shi clicked on the ones with relatively normal screen names. Most of them were asking why she’d left the groups, and whether her sex life with her Omega was enjoyable. Enjoyable or not, she couldn’t say. But these people were thoroughly vulgar.

She’d hoped to find some useful information here, but scrolling through turned up nothing helpful, so she deleted a bunch more contacts until even the app warned her she’d deleted too many people and asked if her account had been compromised.

After purging a large batch of contacts, she posted to Moments.

Spring grass

Summer clouds

Autumn leaves

Winter snow

Everything seems so full of life

Everything brimming with poetry

Everything reminding me to live well

To love this world more deeply

But most of all

I should cherish the people around me

And the happiness of this moment

It read like a lyric poem, worlds apart from the original host’s usual Moments style. The original host used to post long-legged half-body shots of pretty Omegas and Betas, or yachts, luxury cars, and socialite parties. None of that matched Liang Shi’s lifestyle either.

Liang Shi had always thought that if she ever struck it rich, she’d keep a low profile. Buy the fancy car, buy the mansion, but never forget: stay humble. Never flaunt your wealth. Because the moment someone starts flashing their money around, it just proves they aren’t very smart.

This little poem of hers caused quite a stir. Some people in her circle commented:

[Where’d you copy this? Pretty aesthetic.]

[Teacher Liang, would you consider ghostwriting essays? My little sister’s composition still needs eight hundred words.]

[Good heavens, planning a complete makeover?]

[What happened to set you off?]

[…]

Liang Shi replied to all of them at once: I didn’t copy anything. I wrote it myself.

Planning a complete makeover. Turning over a new leaf.

The comment section was flooded with: [???]

Clearly, no one believed it. But Liang Shi hadn’t posted it for them. She’d posted it for Xu Qingzhu, and for herself. She was Liang Shi, a Liang Shi who would fight to live well.

The original host had a nominal position as deputy head of the human resources department at the Liang family’s company, but had barely shown up in days. She’d grown used to the prodigal life, racing cars and horses with Cheng Ran’s crowd. On a whim, she’d charter a helicopter to a casino for a round of gambling, blowing millions in a single night without a care. Yachts, cruise ships, skiing, every kind of entertainment imaginable.

Her college major had been Chinese Language and Literature, a catch-all degree, but from a pretty terrible school. Final exams were scraped through with barely any effort. Attendance was faked by paying someone to sit in. Homework was ghostwritten for a fee. The whole degree was practically fraudulent. She’d essentially learned nothing.

Liang Shi found this rather irksome. She’d never gotten to attend university herself. She’d tried multiple times to enroll in adult self-study programs, but the relentless schedule of film shoots left her no time to study. Even so, to better understand her scripts, she’d kept expanding her knowledge. Learning never ends.

Her lack of education had been used against her multiple times since becoming an actress. It stung, honestly. If she ever had the chance, Liang Shi would love to go back to school. But that was all wishful thinking for now.

She researched the Liang family’s company. In Haizhou City’s upper circles, it ranked upper-middle. The main business was high-end luxury goods, supplemented by a handful of shopping malls and hotels, but with no government connections. The plot of land to the south that Qiu Zimin mentioned must be a future government development zone, perhaps for a new mall or school. Businessmen, as long as they caught the tailwind of policy, could make a fortune in no time.

And Zhou Yi’an’s family was in politics. From ancient times to now, those in politics have always stood a rung above those in business. It was understandable that Qiu Zimin wanted to forge a connection there.

But to sell her out? Never.

After finishing her research, Liang Shi looked into Xu Qingzhu’s family company. Compared to the Liang family, the Xu family’s business was hardly worth mentioning, just a jewelry company. But thirty years ago, Minghui Jewelry, run by the Xu family, had been a household name in the industry. Every year, the Four Seasons line released a new design, and before even hitting the market, prices would be driven to astronomical heights. In the jewelry world, even Dongheng, with its high-end luxury goods, couldn’t compare to the Xu family.

Without exaggeration, thirty years ago Minghui Jewelry was the industry benchmark, an unattainable standard for countless jewelry companies. But in recent years, it had fallen into decline. Netizens even said the decline of Minghui Jewelry marked the end of an era. Which showed just how highly the company had once been praised.

The company hadn’t always belonged to the Xu family. The previous head was surnamed Sheng: Sheng Wang. He had a son and a daughter. His daughter, Sheng Linlang, was Haizhou’s premier socialite. Rumor had it that all three young masters of Haizhou’s top families had pursued her, but among her many suitors, she chose the most unremarkable one, Xu Guangyao, a clear case of marrying beneath her station. At the time, Xu Guangyao was merely a designer at Minghui Jewelry.

Everyone assumed Minghui Jewelry would pass to his son, Sheng Qinglin. But Sheng Qinglin was proud and aloof, becoming an internationally renowned architect at just twenty. His girlfriend at the time was Su Yao, a world-famous jewelry designer. There was no way this family business would end up in Xu Guangyao’s hands.

But fate is fickle. Sheng Qinglin died in an accident at twenty-five. His girlfriend went abroad for further studies, and news of her marriage followed soon after. Old Master Sheng aged decades overnight. With no heart left to manage the company, he gradually handed it over to Xu Guangyao.

As for Sheng Qinglin’s death, the internet was full of wild theories. Some said his girlfriend killed him because he caught her having an affair. Others said Xu Guangyao did it, since he stood to gain the most from the whole affair. But no one could say for certain. Only those involved would ever know the truth.

Liang Shi sighed over the whole story. She hadn’t expected Xu Qingzhu’s family to hide such a twisted history.

Just as she was researching, her phone suddenly rang. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen. She hesitated for a few seconds before answering.

A familiar voice came through. Zhou Yi’an.

She chuckled. “Baby, you finally deigned to pick up.”

Liang Shi: “…”

She really needed to change her number sooner or later.

“Do you have business?” Liang Shi asked irritably.

“Can’t I call you when there’s nothing wrong?” Zhou Yi’an’s laugh was sinister. But hearing Liang Shi sigh, she quickly spoke up, afraid she’d hang up. “I found something while looking into you. Want to know?”

Liang Shi’s voice went cold. “If you want to talk, talk. If not, forget it.”

“Your temper is so fierce, I almost don’t want to tell you.” Zhou Yi’an laughed lightly. “Who would have thought? There’s another Third Miss Liang in this world.”

“Enough,” Liang Shi said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

She hung up right after and promptly blocked the number.

Zhou Yi’an had actually dug up the fact that she wasn’t the Liang family’s biological daughter. It seemed this secret wouldn’t hold much longer.

A moment later, the phone rang again. She hung up on instinct. But seconds later, it rang again. She hung up again. She guessed Zhou Yi’an was calling from a different number. This person was truly tiresome.

When that number called a third time, she picked up impatiently. “Will you quit it?”

Silence on the other end. “…”

“Call me again and I’ll sue you for sexual harass—”

Before she could finish, a clear, cool voice spoke: “Liang Shi.”

Liang Shi blinked. It wasn’t Zhou Yi’an. The original host had never saved anyone’s contact name.

“Oh.” Liang Shi retracted every curse word she’d been about to unleash and replied softly. “What’s up?”

“Are you still coming to the office?” the other party said. “If not, I’ll revoke the position.”

Liang Shi: “…”

Who on earth was this?

She coughed. “Um…”

“Hmm?”

Liang Shi asked as politely as she could: “May I ask who this is?”

Silence. Even through the phone, Liang Shi could feel the exasperation.

A few seconds later, the clear voice spelled it out, syllable by deliberate syllable: “Liang. Xinhe.”

Liang Shi exhaled in relief and said with easy familiarity: “Second Brother.”

Liang Xinhe: “?”

He snorted. “Liang Shi, are you possessed?”

Liang Shi: “…?”