Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 13
Chapter 13
The black Porsche drove away from the hospital.
The windows were sealed shut, and though the air conditioning had already been lowered twice, Song Yanrong’s body temperature showed no signs of dropping.
“Is it that bad?”
Su Jia turned toward her, asking with concern.
Song Yanrong pressed her lips together. Her throat, mouth, and lips were dry and parched. “A bit.”
She reached out and closed the partition that separated the backseat from the driver’s area.
“I’m sorry,” Su Jia said. “We just finished putting on a show for the Song family today, and there were still people around when the doctor asked questions, so I didn’t think it through.”
Song Yanrong: “…”
Really?
She couldn’t quite say why, but Su Jia had been giving her a strange, elusive feeling these past few days—just when she wanted to take a closer look, the girl would revert back to her usual, composed self.
Her head was buzzing.
No time to think more. “It’s fine,” she said. “I should be able to hold out until we get home.”
Truthfully, she wasn’t sure.
The doctor had been right—pure pheromone inducers were incredibly potent. Her glands were one thing, but even her mind was reeling, foggy like she’d been drugged.
She tilted her head back against the seat and closed her eyes to rest.
Su Jia quieted down as well.
What they lacked was an opportunity.
Even if Song Yanrong had promised to help her until she no longer needed it, how could she fully trust an alpha with such a tainted past—especially after seeing her interact with Zhou Yuan today?
An entanglement with an ex, pressure from the powerful Song family…
It wasn’t that she had to have Song Yanrong. It was just—unfortunately—Song Yanrong was her 0.01.
She couldn’t help being drawn to her.
She couldn’t leave, nor could she control it. The only way to feel secure… was to bind Song Yanrong to her completely.
The best method was a mark.
On one hand, it would secure their relationship. On the other, it could “treat” her.
Dr. Song had said there were two ways to completely cure her “pheromone dependency disorder.”
The first: after being marked, remain with that one alpha for life.
The second: after reaching a certain level of dependency post-marking, go through forced withdrawal—then the condition would be gone for good.
Su Jia gazed quietly at Song Yanrong. That face was a little cold and detached, with those narrow phoenix eyes that always seemed to see right through people.
Yet every time she spoke to Su Jia, it was with warmth and patience.
And when she smiled, the subtle mole between her brows deepened, and her sharp eyes softened into something unexpectedly gentle.
Sometimes, when Su Jia looked at her, she’d get the illusion that this woman was some kind of benevolent deity, descending to save all beings.
Yes, absurd—but that’s how it felt.
But right now…
That same goddess’s cheeks were flushed red, her elegant swan neck stretched back, her breathing heavy and restrained. The air was thick with the scent of her pheromones. Su Jia took in the intoxicating aroma and suddenly understood.
The first two reasons weren’t all of it.
There was a third.
She had desires too—just like any adult omega.
But this goal wasn’t going smoothly. For example, even though they’d shared a bed last night, Song Yanrong hadn’t touched her.
…
Song Yanrong hadn’t slept. In this stifling space, sleep was impossible.
By the time they reached the apartment complex, she was soaked in sweat from the overly warm car.
The bodyguard asked if she needed help upstairs. She shook her head.
The bodyguard, known as Xiao K, had been one of the original host’s most trusted protectors. In the novel, he didn’t stay by her side for long, and Song Yanrong didn’t think much of him—her current discomfort took priority.
In moments of vulnerability, trust became a fragile thing.
Back then, Song Yanrong still believed she understood Su Jia well enough.
Su Jia pushed her into the elevator.
In the lavish elevator, Song Yanrong gripped the armrests tightly. Su Jia suddenly bent down and used a tissue to wipe her sweat.
“Still okay?”
Song Yanrong shook her head.
The elevator climbed higher, but all she could see was the soft, swinging tissue in front of her. Her alpha instincts, usually tightly coiled, started to unravel rapidly, like a sweater being pulled apart.
Her nails dug into the armrest. She fought the overwhelming urge to snatch the tissue away and pull Su Jia close.
At last, the elevator doors opened.
At the apartment door, she couldn’t even wait to change shoes. Her fingers trembled on the wheelchair controls. Su Jia stopped her.
“Let me help.”
“No need!”
Song Yanrong’s voice came out more forceful than intended, quick and harsh with irritation.
But a dose of rose-scented pheromones suddenly filled her nose.
Su Jia ignored her protest, knelt down, and held out a pair of slippers.
She gently grasped Song Yanrong’s ankle.
Song Yanrong jolted violently—just barely managing to keep herself from snapping. Her gland felt like a backed-up faucet, one second from bursting.
She clutched Su Jia’s hand, gritting her teeth. “You should go rest in your room.”
Then she pulled her hand free.
She rolled straight to the living room table where she’d kept the suppressants. Opening the drawer, she found the final dose lying in its box.
No hesitation—she popped the cap.
Just as she was about to inject herself, an unexpected noise came from behind. A wave of rose-scented pheromones drifted toward her.
Song Yanrong’s hand shook. She turned and saw Su Jia leaning weakly against the wall by the entrance.
“You…” she started.
Su Jia’s voice was soft, her eyes watery. “You forgot—I inhaled that inducer too.”
She looked like she was at her limit, finally showing it.
Song Yanrong: “…”
Her first thought was: there’s only one suppressant left.
She couldn’t go on like this.
No matter how calm Su Jia had seemed earlier, she clearly couldn’t hold out now either.
Then came a soft, breathy sound—a moan from an omega whose glands were now fully active. Song Yanrong felt it trigger her own.
She bit the inside of her cheek. Her lips were cracking and stained with the taste of iron. Her face burned, almost feverish.
She rolled forward.
Stopping in front of Su Jia, her hand unsteady, she passed the last suppressant over. “Go to your room. Lock the door.”
She might still be lucid now, but her susceptible period was reaching a critical point. If she came into contact with an omega in heat…
There was no telling what she might do.
Su Jia still leaned on the wall. Song Yanrong grabbed her hand and shoved the suppressant into it.
Then she quickly turned away.
She pulled out her phone to call Xiao K.
Behind her, Su Jia watched her unwavering retreating back. She was silent… then suddenly let out a soft laugh.
She couldn’t help but wonder—was this Song Yanrong’s problem, or hers?
The smile faded from her lips.
Just as the call connected—Song Yanrong’s wheelchair was stopped again.
Su Jia grabbed her arm, her voice weak and trembling: “I’m dizzy… everything’s spinning. Miss Song, could you help me?”
Song Yanrong gasped.
Su Jia’s unique gland location… just thinking about it made her itch all over.
To ask something like that at a time like this—how dare she?
Any more effort to resist, and Song Yanrong knew she’d lose control. Her silence must have seemed like consent.
Su Jia let go of her arm, fingers tugging at her dress as if to lift it.
It was a soft, cottony white T-dress, ending several inches above the knee.
Song Yanrong’s expression changed. She grabbed Su Jia’s hand—the back of it was smooth and burning hot. Her heart pounded wildly.
“Su Jia.”
She nearly ground her teeth.
Su Jia’s gaze lowered. A bead of sweat slid down her neck and disappeared into the hollow of her collarbone. She stared intently at Song Yanrong, lips parting slightly to breathe.
Those dry, pale lips—like desert roses—desperate for moisture.
“…Mm.”
The sound was like a cruel trigger.
It sparked Song Yanrong’s hunger. Her alpha pheromones erupted, violent and unstoppable.
She growled and yanked Su Jia down by the knees, forcing her to kneel on the wheelchair.
Wheeling forward, she pushed Su Jia against the wall.
Su Jia let out a muffled whimper of pain. Her hands clung instinctively to Song Yanrong’s shoulders as the latter looked up at her.
Bloodshot eyes locked with hers.
“Miss Su, you’re far bolder than I thought.”
The damp fabric of Su Jia’s dress clung to her, heat radiating from every inch. Song Yanrong’s pheromones invoked a natural sense of submission. Su Jia bit her lip—still soft, still delicate, but now brimming with defiance and allure.
Completely unlike her usual self.
Her lips parted as she murmured, refusing to back down: “Miss Song, you’re far more cowardly than I imagined.”
Song Yanrong narrowed her eyes—then unexpectedly smiled, cold and sharp.
She reached for Su Jia’s hand and snatched the already opened suppressant.
Then pulled up her dress to reach the rose-shaped tattoo.
No warning.
The sudden injection caught Su Jia completely off guard. She threw her head back with a cry and clung tightly to Song Yanrong.
Only when the full dose had been pushed in and the needle withdrawn did she slump down like a deflated balloon.
Sweating, leaning against Song Yanrong’s legs, she whispered:
“Song Yanrong… could you be any rougher?”