A Short-Lived Cannon Fodder Alpha Just Wants to Be a Salted Fish - Chapter 17

Ever since awakening to the fact that she had transmigrated into a book, Wen Yuan felt like an adult in a young person’s skin. High schoolers like Chu Yihan and Shi Ran were just “little sisters” in her eyes.

She never expected that one day, she would be made to blush by a compliment from one of these little sisters. Once the initial emotion passed, she found it both funny and intriguing.

Wen Yuan let out a laugh that was almost a breath: “No one is as cute as you…”

As she spoke, she took the water from the dazed Chu Yihan and handed both bottles to the shop owner to scan. In that gap, she turned her head to look at Chu Yihan again.

Chu Yihan looked different today; her hair was half-tied, and she wore a high-quality cream-colored shirt dress. The puff sleeves and A-line design neutralized her sweet and gentle aura, giving her the energetic, lively look a young girl should have.

She really was very cute.

“Four yuan for both.”

Wen Yuan withdrew her gaze, placed the money on the counter, and handed one bottle to Chu Yihan. She suddenly remembered: “I think this is only the second time I’ve seen you in a dress.”

Chu Yihan became even more shy under her gaze. She looked down to avoid eye contact, her thumb unconsciously rubbing the cold condensation off the bottle. She bit her lip and asked, “Does it look… strange?”

“Not at all.” Wen Yuan pushed open the glass door and stepped aside to let Chu Yihan go first. “It looks great. I feel like you’re more suited for dresses; you should wear them more often.”

Chu Yihan kept her head down, backlit by the sun. Wen Yuan couldn’t see her expression, only her long eyelashes trembling like butterfly wings in the breeze.

“At school, wearing a dress is inconvenient.”

—“At work, wearing a dress is inconvenient.”

In an instant, a bolt of lightning seemed to strike Wen Yuan’s mind. A scene surfaced: in her blurry memories of her past life, a silhouette against the light seemed to overlap perfectly with Chu Yihan. That silhouette, the owner of that voice—the answer felt like it was on the tip of her tongue, yet the connection snapped at the most critical moment.

Chu Yihan walked a few steps, then turned back and called out: “Wen Yuan, the library is open. We can go in.”

Her drifting thoughts were pulled back. Wen Yuan stopped thinking about her past life and followed Chu Yihan.

Because they arrived early, there weren’t many people yet. After swiping their student IDs to enter, Wen Yuan looked at the floor map. There were seven floors in total. The fourth floor had a dedicated self-study area, divided into a public zone and six independent private rooms.

The private rooms required a specific “VIP” card. Obtaining one was unique—you had to donate five or more rare collectible books to the library to get one.

Rare books you can’t even buy with money…

Thinking of Chu Yihan’s Alpha Rejection Disorder, Wen Yuan sighed softly. A private room seemed out of reach.

Chu Yihan lowered her voice and asked with concern, “Why the sigh?”

Wen Yuan whispered back, “I was thinking about your rejection disorder. A private room would have been better.” After all, it wouldn’t have people constantly walking by.

“It’s okay.” Chu Yihan blinked. “I borrowed a card.”

Wen Yuan was stunned. “Where did you borrow it from?” Are those cards that easy to borrow?!

The corners of Chu Yihan’s lips curved slightly. Her voice was soft, but her tone was playful: “I borrowed it from my grandmother.”

Can borrowing from family even be called borrowing?

Seeing Wen Yuan’s speechless, petrified expression, Chu Yihan couldn’t hold back a soft laugh, her eyes curving into crescent moons. Wen Yuan gave her a mock-cold glare.

On a whim, Wen Yuan wanted to flick Chu Yihan’s forehead. She followed her heart and did exactly that. She watched as the girl’s smile vanished instantly; she clutched her forehead in “pain,” looking back with eyes that were both startled and pitiable.

Satisfied, Wen Yuan teased, “Well, look at you. Your joking skills have leveled up again.”

Chu Yihan rubbed the spot. The slight sting was mixed with the sweetness of the intimate gesture, seeping from her forehead into her heart. A flash of hidden nostalgia crossed her eyes as a faint smile returned to her lips.

Wen Yuan walked ahead, urging her: “Let’s go, let’s go. Go to the service desk and check in. I still have two assignments to finish.”

At the service desk, Wen Yuan watched as Chu Yihan pulled a shimmering gold card from her bag. She marveled internally: So fancy. Knowledge really is money.

Curious, Wen Yuan asked, “How many books did your grandmother donate?”

“I’m not sure.” Chu Yihan handed the card to the receptionist and thought for a moment. “I heard my grandfather say she donated an entire wall’s worth.”

The receptionist handling their check-in suddenly scoffed, offering what she thought was a friendly reminder: “Little girl, don’t brag. So far, no one has donated more than five rare books.”

“Actually, there is one person,” the other receptionist chimed in. “The President of Ningcheng University. She donated over three thousand books, including more than two hundred rare volumes.”

Wen Yuan knit her brow. Are these two receptionists stupid? Couldn’t the President of Ningcheng University be Chu Yihan’s grandmother?

Sure enough, two seconds later, Chu Yihan said calmly, “The President of Ningcheng University is my grandmother. The card records the number of donated books. Please check it for me.”

Seeing the two receptionists’ faces turn a shade of red comparable to pig liver, Wen Yuan couldn’t help but let out a very ungraceful laugh.

After they left the desk, Wen Yuan’s smile didn’t fade. She teased, “Our little lamb looks gentle, but her horns hurt when she butts people.”

“Our little lamb”—it was a very intimate way to address her.

Chu Yihan’s heart thudded. A slight heat rose in her face as she stole a glance at Wen Yuan. Wen Yuan’s sharp, cold beauty was softened by her bright, arrogant, and rose-like smile.

The elevator arrived. Chu Yihan forced herself to look away and stepped inside with Wen Yuan. Three other people entered—all Alphas. Because Alphas have a strong sense of territory, the four of them (including Wen Yuan) each occupied a corner.

When two more people got on at the second floor, Wen Yuan instinctively moved a bit to stand directly in front of Chu Yihan, shielding her. Chu Yihan lifted her eyes, her gaze falling on the scent-blocking patch on Wen Yuan’s neck. It had a cartoon lamb pattern—exactly the same as the one Wen Yuan had put on her. Chu Yihan lowered her head, pursed her lips, and quietly let her smile widen.

On the fourth floor, Chu Yihan led Wen Yuan to the private rooms and swiped them into their assigned booth.

The room was small: a long wooden table, leather sofas on both sides that could seat two people each, and a wall recess for extra books. It was well-insulated; once the door was closed, they could barely hear anything from outside.

Chu Yihan asked, “Do you want to sit on the left or the right?” The right was by the wall, the left by the door.

“Left.” Wen Yuan stood aside to let Chu Yihan slide in first.

Chu Yihan gave an “Mm” and sat down. Wen Yuan sat in the outer seat and watched as Chu Yihan pulled out an English test and wireless headphones. Having set her alarm, Chu Yihan began focusing intensely on her listening exercises.

So young, yet so disciplined. Wen Yuan felt a bit ashamed of her own habits and hurried to pull out her scratch paper and math test.

The room was silent, save for the scratching of pens. A good study environment really mattered; in this absolute quiet, sitting next to a genuine top student, Wen Yuan felt herself enter a state of “flow” very quickly.

However, that state only lasted an hour. As the difficulty of the problems increased, Wen Yuan’s enthusiasm and patience began to erode. She reached a dead end on the last few problems. No matter how much she racked her brain, she couldn’t find a way through.

Chu Yihan finished her test just as her alarm went off. She turned it off, folded her paper, and looked up. Wen Yuan was staring at her test with a deeply furrowed brow, looking as if she were facing a mortal enemy. Chu Yihan didn’t disturb her, instead pulling out a Chinese book to memorize classical texts.

Finally giving up on the three problems, Wen Yuan slumped down, her chin resting on her crossed arms. She looked at Chu Yihan with a conflicted expression.

Chu Yihan was incredibly sharp; almost the moment Wen Yuan looked over, their eyes met. Chu Yihan gave a faint smile and asked, “Do you need me to explain the problems?”

Wen Yuan blinked and spread the test and scratch paper in front of her. She pointed to the difficult parts. “Let’s begin, Teacher Lamb.”

Chu Yihan leaned in closer, meticulously deconstructing and analyzing the logic for her. The problems seemed to be taken apart and reorganized by her, suddenly becoming much clearer.

Once she solved them, Wen Yuan felt a great sense of achievement. Her mood was excellent.

Thinking her brain had worked too hard, Wen Yuan felt a bit hungry. She checked her watch—it was lunchtime. “Teacher Lamb, what are we having for lunch?”

When Chu Yihan didn’t respond, Wen Yuan turned her face toward her. At that exact moment, Chu Yihan leaned in with her phone to show her something. “Do you want to go to this place for clay pot noodles? Their ‘Family Portrait’ pot is delicious.”

The distance was so close that Wen Yuan could see the tiny, soft fuzz on Chu Yihan’s fair cheek. A trace of pheromones teased her nerves.

The pheromones she had left on Chu Yihan seemed to have faded slightly.

Wen Yuan’s eyelashes trembled. Her breathing slowed down instinctively, and she turned her head back… very, very slowly.