Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

“Su Jia, could you be any tougher?”
Song Yanrong didn’t reply—just heavy breathing, like a storm. The nearly-empty suppressant syringe clattered to the floor in the early dawn stillness.

“Get up.”
Her voice was hoarse.

Su Jia lay against Song Yanrong’s shoulder, her arm draped across her waist. She could no longer tell if her perspiration or Song’s lingered on her palm.

Su Jia spoke softly, “Let me help you.”

“Think of it as me repaying you.”

“Don’t you want to try it? Just one bite—I won’t blame you.”

Song Yanrong’s eyes shot open. She dropped the syringe; her hand hovered at Su Jia’s waist, slowly tightening in a firm grasp.

She had once claimed to be a Buddhist. When her mother passed away, she’d followed the tradition of visiting temples and encountered a monk who told her:

“All is impermanent; all things end. Let go of sorrow—they pass.”

She had replied, “I cannot find peace.”

The monk suggested, “Observe the Five Precepts; perhaps it will help.”

But Song Yanrong had only managed the first two—no killing, no stealing. She failed at the rest: celibacy, truthfulness, sobriety.

She had been a merchant, accustomed to deceit. She liked alcohol. She indulged in lust.

Yet she restrained herself with a mala of sandalwood beads—trying, at least, to curb her thoughts.

That was until Su Jia appeared. From the moment they met, there’d been something inexplicably magnetic about her.

Su Jia seemed to slip into Song’s sight again and again—sometimes deliberately, sometimes enticingly, just like now.

Song Yanrong lowered her gaze. Sweat dripped onto her lashes; she shivered.

Their heated bodies pressed together. Su Jia’s invitation—“bite”—echoed in her mind.

She leaned in and opened her mouth.

With a sharp inhale, Su Jia clenched, pain and slime mixed as Song Yanrong bit down on the gland.

Su Jia gasped—pain, cold sweat, but she didn’t pull away. Her arms tightened around Song Yanrong.

They held each other.

A piercing ring of the doorbell abruptly shattered the moment.

Song Yanrong snapped from the trance. She gently released Su Jia and muttered hoarsely, “Probably the suppressant has arrived.”

She had already messaged Bodyguard K to deliver a fresh dose.

Su Jia, still heated and trembling, heard Song’s voice. Though Song paused, her pheromones remained intense. Su couldn’t resist.

Song Yanrong freed herself, pale but steady on her feet.

Bodyguard K entered, carrying a new suppressant.

Su Jia took it from the box.

Song had given her the syringe so she could lock herself in and treat herself, hinting at this being the last dose—Song would have prioritized her own need if hers wasn’t more urgent.

Su Jia, letting down her guard, pulled the cap from the syringe and offered it.

“Want to do it yourself?” Song Yanrong asked.

“Uh-huh….” Song stretched her hand out, looking at the syringe.

“Or I’ll help.”

Su Jia knelt and pressed her legs apart, assuming the position of someone about to inject—just like before the doorbell.

Her voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of concealed resentment.

She positioned the syringe at Song Yanrong’s collarbone, at the rose-shaped tattoo.

Just before injecting, she paused, finger on the plunger, and whispered:

“Miss Song, just endure it a little longer.”

Before Song could respond, she felt the sting and froze.

Then Song Yanrong embraced Su Jia as the suppressant entered her bloodstream—calming the overpowering pheromones.

Time passed. The sky lightened. A soft breeze drifted through the balcony, drying their sweat and cooling the air.

They gently separated. Song Yanrong’s hand, once firmly holding Su Jia, now rested limp; Su Jia’s position shifted as well. The air was still. Their eyes met briefly. Su Jia smoothed the creases of her dress, straightened herself, and quietly returned.

The heady scent had almost vanished. Only a faint trace lingered in the air.

Su Jia stood before Song Yanrong with her lashes lowered. “Miss Song, I—was distracted earlier. I said nonsense. Please forgive me.”

Song paused and replied softly, “…It’s okay. Me too.”

They turned away from each other. Silence followed.

Su Jia moved to the bathroom, turning on the shower, letting water cascade down the tiles. After a moment, she bent to remove a tiny transparent ring from her ankle.

It was a mini suppressant ring—something she’d requested at the hospital. It offered mild relief during scent-induced arousal, though the effect was weak.

Because she hadn’t been heavily dosed with the inducer, this ring gave her just enough clarity to stay in control.

That’s all she needed to prevent losing herself completely to Song Yanrong’s pheromones.

But she hadn’t expected Song to endure the bite.

Song Yanrong was far stronger than Su Jia imagined.

A 2s-level omega like her had every right to expect Song to break—or for Su Jia to break.

She crushed the ring in her hand. She was just one step too late.

Showering finished, they returned to their bedrooms as though nothing had happened.

That night, Song Yanrong didn’t fall asleep until evening. For the next two days, she barely left her room, taking suppressants five times.

Su Jia occasionally delivered fruit trays or snacks—each time catching a glimpse of Song’s voice through the door.

Her heat was gone, but memories haunted Su Jia of Song’s lips on her neck.

At those thoughts, Su Jia’s body tensed with anticipation.

…

The suppressant cycle finally ended.

Song Yanrong suspected her body had been thrown off by inhabiting this vessel so recently—hence her sudden plunge into heightened sensitivity. Thankfully, the worst had passed.

During those two days, she hardly spoke with Su Jia. Su Jia greeted her politely, but Song felt… uneasy, inexplicably guilty.

That night, after avoiding contact—and for good reason: they’d both been under the influence of inducers and emotion—she didn’t want the mark or anything else made under such conditions.

She hadn’t forgotten: Su Jia was the protagonist. Song was merely the former antagonist. She feared Su Jia might regret what happened once she cleared her head.

Her merchant instincts took over: cautious, calculating the risk. She looked ahead—would moving forward be safe or dangerous?

But ultimately, she failed to stop herself.

If Bodyguard K hadn’t rung the doorbell at that moment… she closed her eyes, muttering to herself to calm down.

Moments later, her thoughts cleared enough to check her phone.

Messages from Grandmother Ying Junmei had come in—concerned about the Zhou family incident. Forever trying to guide her toward a potential alliance with the Zhou family.

Song Yanrong replied: “I have no relationship with Zhou Yuan.”

Her phone’s screen still showed an old chat from Zhou Yuan: “Thus, Song Yanrong, are you really that cruel?”

Song replied: “Take care. Farewell.”

There were no further messages.

As for why Song insisted she’d become Buddhist? She realized she was undeserving of the ideal.

She didn’t have the compassion or forgiveness of a Buddha. She judged people by her own limits—if she disliked someone or something, she simply hated it.

And she still disliked everything Zhou Yuan had done.

Dropping the phone, she heard tapping at the door.

Su Jia called softly: “I need to talk to you.”

The syringe and tissue lay on the floor—no cleaner for them. Her legs were sore, so she postponed throwing them away.

“Mmph—give me a moment,” Song replied.

She bent her knee and touched her leg. The moment she did, she froze, gently scraping it with her nail.

It didn’t hurt—but a strange tingling jolted up her leg.

Her leg… it could feel again.