Forced to Pretend to Be an A and Marry the Best Actress Omega - Chapter 41

Xu Mifei had never wished so desperately for Jiang Lingyu to be bewitched by pheromones, to obediently nestle in her arms and let herself hold on like this forever.

If she were an alpha, she could simply release her pheromones now, making her omega submit—instead of having to silently repeat and construct the belief in her mind that Jiang Lingyu was her omega.

Only with this belief could she kiss without distraction. This act held no desire, only urgency, panic, and fear.

Xu Mifei was terrified that Jiang Lingyu, this living person before her, might vanish while she watched helplessly, unable to do anything in time.

She could feel how frantic her movements were—pressing down heavily, first feeling the sting of teeth clashing before registering Jiang Lingyu’s damp face.

Startled, she instinctively pulled back slightly, her fingers brushing away the tears before their soft lips met.

The one being kissed widened her eyes, trembling lashes grazing like feather tips against skin. The tears still spilled from reflex, but Xu Mifei could no longer taste their salt.

She remained frozen against Jiang Lingyu, unsure whether to continue or… or immediately retreat and apologize.

What if it was all fabricated? What if everything was just her imagination? But Xu Mifei knew that if the person was gone, none of those imagined hopes would matter.

As long as the person remained, even fabricated hopes could become real.

If she could live inside a book and kiss Jiang Lingyu, who came from its pages—what couldn’t happen?

Xu Mifei didn’t realize how tightly her grip on Jiang Lingyu’s shoulders had become during the kiss, as if trying to fuse them together, like clutching a priceless treasure she could never bear to release.

Her hands trembled from excessive force and overwhelming emotion, though she remained oblivious.

Whether from pain or shock, Jiang Lingyu parted her lips slightly, her tongue grazing Xu Mifei’s.

In that instant, a storm of intense emotions converged at that fleeting touch, nearly shattering Xu Mifei’s restraint.

She wanted more contact—to embrace Jiang Lingyu fervently, to make her unable to withdraw, to conquer her with heated breaths. To make her cry from the intensity of the kiss, not from sorrow.

Jiang Lingyu panted rapidly, strength spent, confined to Xu Mifei’s embrace.

The hold was so tight it felt like her bones might break.

The moment their lips met, suffocation followed—but this was nothing like the self-inflicted kind.

Nothing alike.

Even as Xu Mifei acted roughly, frantically, bruising her chin and shoulders, Jiang Lingyu could sense the helplessness and anguish beneath those harsh movements.

Why the pain? What was Xu Mifei aching for on her behalf?

She hadn’t released any pheromones to entice her—how could Xu Mifei, fully lucid, kiss her, save her, give her hope?

Everything had been seamless, foolproof—how had Xu Mifei seen through it—?

She didn’t know anything, only that she was sinking into a quagmire. If she didn’t extricate herself today, she would drown in it eventually.

Jiang Lingyu reached out to push Xu Mifei away, only to realize how weak her limbs were. Her neck throbbed with pain, as if cut by something fine yet sharp.

Noticing her resistance, the other party held her even tighter, their lips advancing further. Her breath was stolen, her heart pounded violently, yet the surroundings grew increasingly silent.

A certain impulse surged from the depths of her body. Jiang Lingyu felt the back of her head being cradled. She didn’t know how far Xu Mifei could go.

If this hope came from Xu Mifei, from her fingertips and lips, then why shouldn’t she sink together with her?

Xu Mifei’s scorching body temperature and breath enveloped her like molten lava, domineeringly invading—clearly the aura of an alpha.

She could only choose to become ashes or merge with the lava, becoming one with it.

One was a cold death, the other was life born from death. Jiang Lingyu had considered choosing the former, but Xu Mifei was too fervent and urgent, pouring in that overwhelming, forceful energy, dragging her into the volcano before she could turn to ashes, plunging her into the molten lava.

As if telling her—we are one.

In her daze, she recalled another thing Xu Mifei had said: “How could I not care about you? We’re already engaged.”

Jiang Lingyu’s heart threatened to leap out of her chest. The more intense the moment became, the stranger she felt about herself.

Xu Mifei seemed on the verge of going mad because of her.

Amidst this madness and obsession, she actually found a glimmer of hope to live. That subtle thrill spread to her limbs, restoring her senses.

The frigid, unyielding iceberg ultimately couldn’t withstand the fervent lava. The sharp icicles melted, forming a vast ocean that actively embraced the searing heat.

To avoid suffocating, Jiang Lingyu parted her lips, but just as Xu Mifei retreated, she became the one advancing.

A faint blush even spread across Xu Mifei’s hand gripping Jiang Lingyu’s shoulder.

Her comfort seemed to work.

She didn’t hear Jiang Lingyu call to stop, nor did she sense any further resistance. Instead, it felt like a reward—a slight brush of the tongue against her own.

This was her first kiss, and she had no idea how to react.

But realizing this method worked to soothe Jiang Lingyu, she steeled herself and, mimicking how she’d once sucked on a scent gland, gently nipped at Jiang Lingyu’s lips.

This time not only did Jiang Lingyu pull away in shock, but Xu Mifei herself felt her tongue and mouth go numb. Before her rationality completely collapsed, she forced herself to lift her head from the dizzying euphoria.

Meeting Jiang Lingyu’s damp, bright eyes, Xu Mifei was overwhelmed by intense shame. She couldn’t shake the feeling of having taken advantage, even if she’d cloaked it under the guise of “comfort.”

She swallowed unconsciously, inhaling—there were no pheromones here, at least none from Jiang Lingyu that she could detect.

That had been far too reckless—

“Just now… are you feeling better? You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.” As rationality returned, so did the awkwardness. Xu Mifei hoped Jiang Lingyu wouldn’t say a word right now.

She knelt on the lift platform at that moment, cradling Jiang Lingyu in her arms. First, she roughly wiped the moisture from her own lips before taking out a clean tissue to dab away the sheen from Jiang Lingyu’s lips. Throughout the process, she dared not let her gaze linger on Jiang Lingyu’s mouth.

Jiang Lingyu seemed to notice her embarrassment and indeed remained silent, but the intensity of her stare was so palpable it was impossible to evade.

Xu Mifei lifted Jiang Lingyu into a bridal carry, and this time, Jiang Lingyu didn’t struggle.

She knew they had temporarily survived this ordeal together.

“There’s no one else here. I had all the staff leave when I came in. Meng-jie is very worried about you.”

As the lift descended to the ground, Hu Huaimeng rushed over. Her face had gone pale—if not for Xu Mifei’s earlier instructions, she would have dashed out countless times to call for help.

It wasn’t until Xu Mifei kissed Jiang Lingyu that she finally relaxed a little.

A simple, direct method of tactile comfort—just an alpha’s pheromones were enough to calm an omega, with remarkably effective results.

As an omega herself, she hadn’t been affected at all. Hu Huaimeng had never seen such a powerful alpha before, one who could control her pheromones to such an extent, soothing only her own omega.

“It’s good that you’re okay, it’s good… Shall we go home? Forget about filming this scene.” Hu Huaimeng understood the hint in Xu Mifei’s eyes and tactfully avoided mentioning what Jiang Lingyu had intended to do earlier, instead retrieving the first-aid kit she’d prepared in advance.

Xu Mifei placed Jiang Lingyu on a nearby cushioned chair and caught her hand as it moved toward her neck.

“Wait for the medicine. Don’t touch it.”

She adjusted the studio lights brighter, and in an instant, it felt like returning from hell to the mortal world, with an illusion of sunlight breaking through.

Jiang Lingyu squinted before seeing in the mirror Xu Mifei held up—a thin wound on her neck, as if from strangulation, but not from the prop silk ribbon she’d expected.

The broken red silk ribbon still lay on the floor.

Xu Mifei picked it up, extracting an almost invisible thread from within: “This is a material from our props department. It solidifies and tightens upon contact with liquid, capable of cutting through attached fabric.”

Hence, such threads were often used as safety mechanisms.

Hu Huaimeng hesitated before saying, “This was added after Young Miss Xu came by for an impromptu inspection. Thank goodness she did, or your neck wouldn’t have just these minor marks now!”

Xu Mifei stood quietly before Jiang Lingyu, waiting for her to process everything. As long as she didn’t look at Jiang Lingyu’s lips, she could momentarily avoid thinking about the intimate moments that had just transpired.

“I want to finish filming this scene,” Jiang Lingyu finally said, lifting her gaze. “There should be a proper conclusion.”

“Fine, but I have conditions,” Xu Mifei had anticipated this request. “The red silk can’t be used anymore. I demand a script revision—have Luo Wuniang choose another method of suicide.”

Jiang Lingyu blinked slowly twice. “Agreed. It won’t be used again.”

Never again.

“Jiang Lingyu, act well,” Xu Mifei smiled softly upon hearing her answer. “I’ll wait to go home with you.”

In front of the monitor, Director Wang slumped in his chair, gasping for breath as if he’d nearly suffocated himself to the point of nausea.

Although the staff had been cleared from the set, the equipment in the director’s room remained operational, allowing Director Wang to see everything happening inside.

Xu Mifei had only mentioned that the actors might improvise, but she hadn’t said the improvisation would be this intense.

Director Wang was someone who worked in what was colloquially known as the “trashy drama” market—he’d film anything as long as there was money, letting investors cram in as many influencers and newcomers as they wanted, no matter how absurd or melodramatic the plot.

The actors treated it like a game, delivering their lines and clocking out without much effort to perform well.

He had assumed Jiang Lingyu would be the same, but she delivered a performance that put all the other actors to shame—for a supporting role that would exit after just three scenes.

In this improvised scene, Xu Mifei had said it couldn’t be used, and Director Wang thought she was going to take Jiang Lingyu away.

The moment Jiang Lingyu jumped was utterly shocking, sending cold sweat down his forehead. The sheer despair emanating from the monitor was overwhelming.

Fortunately, the lift swiftly emerged from the darkness and rescued her.

Later, their kissing figures vanished into the shadows, the red silk quietly falling to the ground, creating an eerie yet intensely poetic atmosphere.

It was as though Luo Wuniang had died, but Jiang Lingyu… she survived.

When Xu Mifei called the other staff back in, Director Wang finally snapped out of his daze.

He felt as though Jiang Lingyu’s acting had cleansed and humbled him.

If Xu Mifei hadn’t kept unexpectedly appearing in the frame, he would have changed Luo Wuniang’s ending on the spot, using the moment Xu Mifei descended to rescue her!

His slapdash, market-driven script was truly beneath Jiang Lingyu’s talent.

He sincerely hoped he could collaborate with her again on a better project in the future.

After Xu Mifei entered, she discussed changing Luo Wuniang’s death scene with Director Wang, who immediately agreed without hesitation.

Jiang Lingyu was an actor with exceptional improvisational skills, so the director and the on-set screenwriter quickly revised Luo Wuniang’s death to poisoning.

There was a thin, long bloodstain on Jiang Lingyu’s neck, so her cheongsam was swapped for a black high-collared one—her own personal outfit.

The black clung to her fiercely and boldly as she knelt on the ground, a few loose strands of hair framing her face, making it impossible to look away. The cheongsam was buttoned to the top, fitting snugly around her neck.

Xu Mifei stood on set, her gaze inscrutable as she watched the spotlight.

She saw Luo Wuniang drink the wine, close her eyes, and then—with masterful acting—her thick, fan-like eyelashes trembled violently. Her lips pressed tightly together, an unnatural flush spreading across her face as she gazed out the window before slowly collapsing backward, lifeless.

“Cut!”

“Amazing, absolutely amazing!” Director Wang praised excitedly through his megaphone. “Especially the flush that appeared later—no need for the makeup artist to touch it up. It perfectly captured the look of poisoning.”

Director Wang was about to gush to Xu Mifei beside him when he saw her bolt forward like the wind, impossible to stop as she rushed past him.

“Wait, Director Xu!”

He had forgotten to explain—actors usually needed time to recover after such intense scenes, so it was best not to approach them right away. Someone like Jiang Lingyu, who poured so much emotion into her performance, would need even more time to come out of character.

However, the moment he saw Xu Mifei crouch down to check on the person lying on the ground, Jiang Lingyu immediately shot her a glare. As if that wasn’t enough, she even raised her hand to smack Xu Mifei’s arm.

The alpha, who had just been terrifyingly solemn moments ago, now seemed to transform into a big tail-wagging puppy in front of Jiang Lingyu. Smiling, she pulled Jiang Lingyu’s hand over and blew on it gently, her lips shaping words that seemed to ask if Jiang Lingyu’s hand hurt.

Director Wang was utterly baffled.

This was nothing like what he’d heard before—

Everyone in the crew knew Jiang Lingyu had been forced into this role by the production’s backers, expecting her to be dissatisfied, yet she performed flawlessly. They also all knew Xu Mifei was the very backer who had pressured the award-winning actress, assuming their relationship would be terrible. But here they were, flirting like this?

Even that punch Jiang Lingyu threw at young CEO Xu carried a hint of coquettishness.

It seemed that only when interacting with Xu Mifei like this did Jiang Lingyu come alive, vibrant and full of vitality. When their eyes met, everyone else around them faded into the background.

What the hell! Wasn’t this exactly how newlyweds acted?

“Was it you who switched it?” Jiang Lingyu was still angry, feeling bubbles rising incessantly in her stomach as she hurriedly covered her mouth.

According to the script, it should have been a cup of brown sugar water—drink it, and the poison would take effect. But the moment Jiang Lingyu took a sip, she nearly jumped to her feet. It wasn’t brown sugar water at all—it was cola.

The flush on her face wasn’t part of the act either. The huge gulp of cola sent bubbles surging up her throat, threatening to burst out, forcing her to suppress the urge to burp.

Thanks to that cola, Jiang Lingyu’s mind was entirely focused on finishing the scene quickly so she could sneak away and burp in peace. The moment “cut” was called, she snapped out of character—not a trace of grief remained.

But Xu Mifei had already stepped in front of her so quickly. She wanted to scold her, but she was afraid of being heard if she burped.

Xu Mifei let her vent and even take a swing, as long as it meant Jiang Lingyu had snapped out of that state. Earlier, Jiang Lingyu’s emotions had been too intense, and Xu Mifei had been afraid she might slip back into that mindset—so she’d switched her drink.

“Let’s go back together,” Xu Mifei draped a coat over her shoulders. “On the way, we’ll stop by the hospital to get your neck treated.”

“No need, it’s just a superficial wound,” Jiang Lingyu shook her head, instinctively resistant to hospitals.

“Then promise me you won’t do something like this again, alright?” Xu Mifei sighed helplessly. “I told you not to test me by hurting yourself. Now you’re just hurting yourself without even testing me. What, did I pass the test or something?”

At least when Jiang Lingyu had been testing her, she hadn’t resorted to such despairing self-harm.

The memory of Jiang Lingyu calmly agreeing to register their marriage the next day sent a chill down Xu Mifei’s spine. She had been too composed then. If Xu Mifei hadn’t overheard that this was the final scene of Spring Garden while on her way, she would never have realized.

She could piece it together—this so-called “masterful performance” of a suicide scene, praised by fans, had been filmed with Jiang Lingyu fully intending to die.

Who knew how long she had been strangled? Probably like that rookie actor in her mentor’s accident, passing out from suffocation before the crew rushed her to the hospital.

Once in the car, assistant Zhao Zhao greeted them nervously. Hu Huaimeng took the front passenger seat and raised the partition.

“Don’t ask, don’t look, don’t listen. Just focus on driving and take them to the Xu residence,” Hu Huaimeng said without glancing sideways. “They won’t want us disturbing them.”

In the backseat, Jiang Lingyu and Xu Mifei sat on opposite sides, the silence between them unbroken.

Xu Mifei felt she ought to say something—to confirm Jiang Lingyu wouldn’t act so recklessly again. But the atmosphere was stifling, and Jiang Lingyu kept her gaze fixed out the window, clearly unwilling to engage. After several failed attempts, Xu Mifei gave up.

She decided Song Nian must know something and resolved to ask her after dinner.

As they passed another intersection, a sudden brake made Xu Mifei instinctively reach out to shield Jiang Lingyu. Their eyes finally met, giving Xu Mifei the opening she needed.

“…If you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again,” Xu Mifei said, lowering her eyes to hide her discomfort. “I panicked—I was afraid you’d really jump. You were shaking so badly, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t release pheromones to calm you down right away.”

“A little. You just couldn’t smell it.” Jiang Lingyu straightened, pressing her back rigidly against the seat. “I noticed. I know you did it to stop me from acting rashly.”

It had nothing to do with affection or liking—just a desperate attempt to soothe.

No wonder… No wonder Jiang Lingyu had allowed it instead of pushing her away immediately.

Xu Mifei exhaled, ignoring the faint pang of disappointment creeping in.

She had been struggling to explain why, in that chaotic moment, kissing had been her first instinct. But Jiang Lingyu had already rationalized it for her.

With nothing left to say, Xu Mifei turned her gaze back to the window.

The drive to the Xu residence was long. She wanted to tell Jiang Lingyu she could trust her—just a little—but the words wouldn’t come.

Then, she heard it—a tiny… hiccup.

Knowing Jiang Lingyu had just drunk cola, Xu Mifei immediately looked at her.

No amount of composure could hide the bright red flush now spreading across Jiang Lingyu’s ears.

“What are you looking at?” She glared defiantly, but another hiccup threatened, forcing her to cover her mouth.

The tension in the car eased. Xu Mifei smiled. “We’ll skip the cola at dinner. Haven’t you heard? If you don’t hiccup after drinking it, you’re missing half the fun.”

“I don’t even drink cola,” Jiang Lingyu snapped.

“Only because you’ve never tried it. There’s a lot you haven’t experienced yet.” Xu Mifei turned to her, suddenly serious. “There’s still time. If you’re willing… I’ll be there with you.”

The words sounded like a confession. Jiang Lingyu froze, understanding dawning.

From the moment they met on set, Xu Mifei had been pulling her back—keeping her from sinking into despair. The kiss, the swapped cola, the deliberately light tone—Xu Mifei had been trying, in her own way, to anchor her without making it obvious.

Just as she’d said: she wanted to offer hope, to give Jiang Lingyu something to hold onto.

The car was scented with an air freshener, her usual cool fragrance, typically used to maintain calmness. She wasn’t sitting particularly close to Xu Mifei, yet Jiang Lingyu could no longer detect the scent in the car.

With every breath, all she could smell was the faint, clean fragrance from Xu Mifei—not pheromones, perhaps just the lingering scent of freshly laundered clothes.

There was still a faint metallic scent of dried bl00d, perhaps from what had stained her earlier.

The smell of bl00d was unclean and murky, mingling with the clean, crisp fragrance that clung to her. Danger and safety intertwined within this person, trust and suspicion locked in a relentless tug-of-war.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Xu Mifei’s voice drew closer as she leaned in slightly, closing the distance between them to emphasize her seriousness.

“Don’t let this happen again.” Xu Mifei’s gaze lingered on the tightly fastened collar of Jiang Lingyu’s qipao.

She thought it was too tight—not good for the wound to heal. This wasn’t a film set, after all.

After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and undid the two knotted buttons.

The slender wound on Jiang Lingyu’s pale neck was slightly red and swollen at the edges, looking less like an injury and more like a delicate red silk choker pressed into her skin—something that tempted one to reach out and trace it, to stare and explore.

The cool air raised goosebumps along Jiang Lingyu’s neck, and she shivered involuntarily.

Xu Mifei had already seized her wrist.

“Leave it like this. Don’t fuss with the collar—let it breathe.” Afraid Jiang Lingyu might try to fasten it again, Xu Mifei held her wrist firmly.

She still hadn’t heard Jiang Lingyu respond, and a pang of disappointment crept in. Had anything she said even helped?

Xu Mifei didn’t let go, but she frowned and fell silent.

Jiang Lingyu tried to pull her hand back, but Xu Mifei held on, following the movement and leaning even closer.

Was it useless? Had none of her comfort or words made any difference?

Just as Xu Mifei was about to release her, Jiang Lingyu suddenly turned her head and whispered into Xu Mifei’s ear, “I just don’t know how to thank you.”

Xu Mifei’s eyes widened, and she blinked hard twice.

When she started to turn her head, Jiang Lingyu’s breath brushed her ear again. “Don’t. Don’t look at me.”

She didn’t want to meet Xu Mifei’s eyes, didn’t want to see the worry and sincerity swirling in them.

Jiang Lingyu feared she might willingly drown in that gaze—then she’d never ask the questions she needed to, content to drift along in this haze.

“Why did you come? I already told you—Luo Wuniang’s fate is mine.”

Xu Mifei didn’t move. “I heard the voice in your heart.”

A person who claimed to have no hope was, in truth, crying out: Please give me a reason to live.

Xu Mifei didn’t care. She’d heard it, and she couldn’t ignore it.

After a pause, Xu Mifei said, “It’s true—no one can truly understand another’s pain. But I told you, I’m someone you can trust. Jiang Lingyu, you can’t die.”

She abruptly turned her head, locking eyes with Jiang Lingyu, and spoke with deliberate emphasis, “You have to live. If you ever lose the will to, I’ll drag you back every single time.”

Then, her tone turned firm and icy, “Don’t forget what you promised me. Tomorrow, we’re getting our marriage certificate.”

Her gaze was so intense it made Jiang Lingyu’s heart ache with its weight. But just as Jiang Lingyu met her eyes, Xu Mifei reached out and covered them, her voice slightly hoarse,

“Don’t look at me like that.”

She would feel fear and panic because of her own obsessive thoughts, would save herself time and again, would demand her trust repeatedly, yet she wouldn’t comfort, wouldn’t kiss, suddenly kept her distance from all those ex-girlfriends, even unable to bear the weight of her gaze.

These changes—only Jiang Lingyu, who had been by her side all this time, understood them best.

All the subtle clues converged toward one direction.

“So, I have one last question for you,” Jiang Lingyu’s fingers slowly rested on the nape of Xu Mifei’s neck, where the skin had already begun to rise slightly, no longer smooth and even.

Her hope wasn’t for a beautiful future, nor was it for the untasted foods Xu Mifei had spoken of.

Her hope was right before her eyes, and she was about to touch that answer—

At this moment, Jiang Lingyu’s heartbeat pounded like heavy drumbeats, each thud making her voice eerily calm: “Who exactly are you?”