Thirtieth Day of Pretending to Be an Alpha

For the next stretch of time, Chu Mo was incredibly busy. The plot kept moving forward, and the time for Zhou Jingyan’s debut drew closer and closer. As planned in the original novel, Chu Mo decided to select a group of trainees to form a boy group around Zhou Jingyan. In the book, these five trainees—including Zhou Jingyan—became an instant sensation upon debut.

Inside Xiangyang Entertainment, in a spacious dance studio, a row of company executives sat watching the assessments, with Chu Mo seated at the center.

No one had expected that Chu Mo, heir to the Chu Group, would personally attend this branch company’s trainee selection. His presence alone showed how much weight he placed on this debut group.

In the original story, Chu Mo had been invited by the former owner of Xiangyang Entertainment to observe the interview. At the time, he deliberately made things difficult for Zhou Jingyan by asking him to perform a newly released hit from a popular girl group on the spot. Chu Mo had hoped to sabotage him—derailing his chances of debuting altogether.

Unexpectedly, Zhou Jingyan not only completed the impromptu performance, he did it exceptionally well. In front of everyone, he passed the assessment and was chosen as the group’s center position—its “C.”

Now, sitting at the judges’ table, Chu Mo took the evaluation seriously. He found that the trainees who’d debuted in the novel were, indeed, far above average. When it was almost Zhou Jingyan’s turn, tension filled the air.

Zhou Jingyan was extremely nervous. He kept making trips to the bathroom, trying in vain to calm himself. Splashing water on his face, he stared into the mirror. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

He hated being this version of himself.

Usually bright and cheerful, Zhou Jingyan had questioned more than once whether he was cut out to be an idol. Becoming a singing-and-dancing performer had always been his dream. He’d loved music since childhood—self-taught in pop vocals, hip-hop, and even rap. But no matter how hard he worked, the stage always felt a little out of reach.

That doubt traced back to an accident.

It happened when Zhou Jingyan graduated from middle school. Back then, he was the school’s star—popular, talented, confident. For the graduation ceremony, the school had arranged a special performance just for him. Zhou Jingyan had rehearsed carefully, and the school had even prepared a lift platform.

But on the day of the ceremony, in front of the entire school, the lift platform malfunctioned. The area under his feet gave out, and Zhou Jingyan fell hard, hitting his head. He’d bled a lot and ended up with seven stitches in the back of his scalp. The hospital diagnosed him with a mild concussion.

The school took full responsibility—covered all his expenses and even arranged aftercare.

But after he physically healed, something inside him didn’t.

He developed a fear of the stage.

To overcome it, he’d applied to the dance department of H University. But the trauma lingered. Every time he was about to perform, a wave of anxiety overtook him. It was a silent, crushing panic—one that always impacted his stage presence.

His teachers eventually gave up on him. Over time, he started giving up on himself, too.

No one knew that the cheerful, easygoing Zhou Jingyan had such an insecure side.

He’d already given up hope of debuting—until Chu Mo surprised him by agreeing to it. Zhou Jingyan had been shocked, thrilled, and deeply grateful.

But then Chu Mo added that the debut would be in the form of a boy group, and the center position—the coveted “C”—was still undecided.

Today’s selection would determine both his teammates and whether he’d be the center.

Rumors quickly spread: Chu Mo didn’t like Zhou Jingyan, and he definitely wouldn’t let him be the C. With the speculation swirling, Zhou Jingyan’s fear of the stage came roaring back.

Just then, a staff member called out from outside the restroom:

“Xiao Zhou, it’s your turn. Hurry up, President Chu is waiting.”

Hearing the words “President Chu,” Zhou Jingyan stared at his reflection in the mirror, biting his lower lip hard.

No matter what… I can’t let him down.

⸻

Back in the dance studio, Zhou Jingyan entered the room and gave a polite bow to the judges’ table. His gaze instinctively drifted toward Chu Mo.

Surprisingly, the moment he saw Chu Mo, his nerves settled a little.

He stepped forward and spoke, though his voice was uncertain. “Hello, judges, the performance I’ve prepared is—”

Before he could finish, Chu Mo cut him off.

“Can you perform something impromptu?”

Zhou Jingyan froze.

Everyone in the room looked startled. None of the previous contestants had been asked to perform spontaneously—why was President Chu suddenly making things harder for Zhou Jingyan?

Chu Mo didn’t give him time to process. “That new track from XX girl group is pretty popular right now. Have you heard it?”

He was referring to a girl group Zhou Jingyan liked a lot.

Hearing that, Zhou Jingyan nodded quickly. “I’ve heard it.”

The song had only been released three days ago. Most trainees hadn’t even had a chance to learn the choreography yet.

“Then perform that one,” Chu Mo said casually, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

The room buzzed with disbelief.

Was he serious?

The song was brand new—how could Zhou Jingyan possibly perform it without practice?

Zhou Jingyan stood frozen, disbelief washing over him. How does Chu Mo know I’ve been practicing this dance?

He’d been following that girl group for a long time. The moment the teaser dropped, he’d loved the song. Since its release, he’d been sneaking into the practice room to learn it in his spare time.

In just a few days, he’d already mastered the dance.

Amid the sympathetic gazes of the audience, Zhou Jingyan stood frozen.

Just then, Chu Mo suddenly spoke, voice laced with mockery:

“What, can’t dance? Or are you too nervous to speak? If you can’t even handle this, you might as well just be a fringe member in the group.”

Although it sounded like pure sarcasm, Zhou Jingyan felt something strange happen when he heard it—his heart rate, which had been erratic, finally began to steady. Somehow, Chu Mo’s voice seemed to calm his nerves, grounding him.

A newfound fire lit up in Zhou Jingyan’s eyes.

He swallowed, nodded, and stepped forward.

As the music began to play, Zhou Jingyan started his performance. From the first beat, he immediately caught everyone’s attention.

At first, he was still nervous—hands slightly stiff, breathing tight. But the moment the chorus hit, he immersed himself in the rhythm of the song he loved. His movements smoothed out, sharper with each beat. Zhou Jingyan added subtle personal touches to the choreography—spins more defined, gestures more expressive. His interpretation was sharper than the girl group’s version, but still retained the original’s defining charm: energy and cuteness.

It was electric. His dance radiated joy and power, infecting everyone in the room.

When the music stopped, the room erupted into applause and cheers.

Zhou Jingyan stood frozen in place, stunned by how well he’d performed. He couldn’t believe it. He’d done it. And deep down, he knew—it was all thanks to Chu Mo’s “encouragement.”

He looked over at Chu Mo, eyes filled with new gratitude.

Unsurprisingly, Zhou Jingyan was voted into the C position by a landslide.

Chu Mo kept his expression serious, folding his arms as he said coldly,

“I didn’t expect you to know this dance. I underestimated you.”

Zhou Jingyan bowed earnestly.

“Thank you, President Chu, for giving me the opportunity.”

Chu Mo blinked.

Wait—wasn’t he just trying to humiliate Zhou Jingyan?

Why was he being thanked?

Was this sarcasm?

Chu Mo couldn’t figure out what Zhou Jingyan was thinking. So, maintaining his cold persona, he responded sternly,

“Debuting isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning. Don’t get cocky.”

He’d meant it as a warning.

But Zhou Jingyan only interpreted it as more encouragement.

A warm current surged in his heart.

Under the studio lights, Chu Mo sat with legs crossed, exuding his signature cool and aloof air. His skin was pale, his expression calm. With a single word, he could decide the fate of every trainee in that room.

And yet, Zhou Jingyan no longer felt the fear the others did.

Looking at him, Zhou Jingyan’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.

He realized something: no wonder Xie Songchen and Chi Cheng—both proud alphas—kept hovering around Chu Mo.

He quickly shoved the thought aside.

No. Chu Mo is an alpha. And he already has a partner. What am I thinking?

Zhou Jingyan’s ears turned red. Flustered, he hurried off the stage, face slightly averted.

Chu Mo stared at his retreating back, confused.

Why is this kid blushing? Why is Zhou Jingyan suddenly acting weird?

Then, he had a flash of insight.

Ah… he’s the C position now. Maybe he thinks he has a shot with Chu Yun.

Probably blushing just thinking about it.

⸻

With the selection interview wrapped up, the career arcs of the three male leads were now officially on track.

Under Chu Mo’s “humiliation,” they were steadily growing into major players in the entertainment industry.

But the novel’s title was Perfect Match with Four Alphas.

And according to the original plot, the last one—the final alpha—hadn’t appeared yet.

This fourth alpha was different.

He was the novel’s main villain.

Cold, ruthless, and heartless. A man with a mysterious past, capable of anything.

Chu Mo knew next to nothing about this character. The original novel hadn’t included details about him until the extras—and as a cannon fodder character, Chu Mo hadn’t been given access to the extras after transmigrating.

He only knew one thing:

The villain was extremely good-looking, liked pretending to be an omega, and approached Chu Yun under false pretenses.

Currently, there was no one around Chu Mo who matched that description.

So, logically, the villain hadn’t appeared yet.

Chu Mo filed that problem away for later. He had a more urgent situation to handle.

⸻

Ever since Chu Mo claimed he was buying inhibitors for an omega, both Xie Songchen and Chi Cheng had been quietly (and not-so-quietly) testing him.

Chu Mo was no fool—he could tell they were trying to sniff out who this mysterious omega partner was. Probably hoping to dig up dirt and break them up.

After all, he’d spent the whole story blocking their paths to Chu Yun. Of course they’d want revenge.

Chu Mo sighed.

These two attackers were really the pettiest top alphas he’d ever seen.

To cover up the lie, Chu Mo made a decision:

He would hire an omega to pretend to be his partner.

That way, no one would suspect he was hiding his real gender, and he could deflect any future inquiries.

He acted immediately.

Chu Mo contacted a private agency that specialized in this kind of “acting job” and made a specific request.

He wanted an introverted, quiet omega. Someone discreet. Someone who didn’t talk much.

He also agreed to pay the highest possible rate. He couldn’t risk any leaks.

A short while later, the agency sent over a photo.

In it was a strikingly handsome young man.

He had sharp features, high cheekbones, pale skin, and thick lashes. He looked cold, quiet—the perfect background partner.

But for some reason, when Chu Mo looked at the picture, he felt a little dazed.

Something… felt off.