Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Song Yanrong’s tongue lightly touched the roof of her mouth as she ran it across her lips. Sometimes… like now, Su Jia completely shattered the innocent little-white-rabbit image.

Su Jia, Su Jia…

She could easily be mistaken for Daji—a beautiful danger.

Perhaps she didn’t fully understand Su Jia after all.

The store assistant eagerly stepped forward to assist. Song Yanrong didn’t ask if Su Jia liked the outfit in the display, but Su Jia pointed directly at the dark green qipao and said, “I want to try that one.”

“You’ve got a great eye—this just came in today, and we only have one in the entire store.”

“She’s the one who likes it,” Su Jia said.

Song Yanrong looked up, but Su Jia wasn’t looking at her—instead, her gaze was on other outfits.

The assistant, quick on the uptake, smiled brightly. “I’m so jealous. You two wives are so loving. Shall I take you to try it on?”

Su Jia replied, “Sure.”

Whether she hadn’t noticed the word “wives” or just didn’t care, it wasn’t clear.

Behind them, Song Yanrong heard that simple “sure,” paused for a few seconds, then lowered her gaze. Only after a moment did she realize—

Sometimes, Su Jia really made her feel… passive.

Strangely, she didn’t mind it.

While Su Jia was in the fitting room, Song Yanrong casually browsed the other styles. For each piece she saw, she found herself imagining what Su Jia would look like wearing it. More than a few seemed like they’d suit her.

“Can you come in and help me with something?”

Su Jia’s voice called out from the fitting room. The door opened a few inches, revealing her face and half of her body. “My elbow’s a bit uncomfortable.”

But she wasn’t looking at Song Yanrong—she was looking at the store assistant.

She hadn’t called for her, so Song Yanrong averted her eyes.

The assistant was just about to go in when she suddenly remembered there was someone else nearby. “Would you like your wife to help you?”

“She wouldn’t dare.”

“Huh?”

Song Yanrong turned her wheelchair slightly toward the fitting room. This time she looked straight at Su Jia, whose voice was very soft—so soft that she couldn’t quite make out the words.

But she could clearly see Su Jia’s full, rosy lips moving.

—She. Can’t.

A faint laugh escaped Song Yanrong’s lips. Her brows lifted ever so slightly as she watched the assistant start toward the fitting room.

“I’ll go,” Song Yanrong said evenly.

The assistant was tactful enough to step back with a knowing smile.

The fitting room was much larger than standard, easily accommodating one person. But once Song Yanrong entered in her wheelchair, it suddenly felt cramped. Inside, there was a dark wooden bench and a full-length mirror.

Su Jia stood with her back against the mirror. Her hair was looser now, some of it falling gently over her shoulders. She faced Song Yanrong directly.

There was a kind of decadent, dreamy beauty in her presence.

A strand of hair was caught in the pearl clasp of the qipao. Song Yanrong’s eyes moved to her face. “What happened to your elbow?”

Su Jia replied, “Not sure. Honestly, the assistant could’ve helped.”

Song Yanrong smiled. “And I can’t?”

Su Jia blinked at her, her expression puzzled. “But Miss Song, how do you plan to help me? In your current condition… I don’t think you can.”

Song Yanrong glanced at the bench, then lifted her chin and spoke softly, “Lie down.”

…

Su Jia bent her knees slightly and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bench. Song Yanrong placed her palm gently on Su Jia’s slender back. The zipper on the qipao had only been pulled halfway down, and the silk shimmered against her creamy white skin.

Her narrow waist could easily be encircled by one hand.

A fact Song Yanrong had already tested once.

“Miss Su, let’s let the anger go, shall we?”

The sound of the zipper sliding echoed quietly in the fitting room.

She moved slowly on purpose. Su Jia struggled to keep steady—her arms not offering much support—so she gently pressed a hand to the mirror for balance.

Her eyes lifted slightly, catching Song Yanrong’s gaze in the mirror. “What?”

“That night…” Song Yanrong was watching her, too.

The lighting was soft, and a mist seemed to veil Su Jia’s eyes. The corners of her eyes were flushed with red, her beauty sharp and magnetic—so much so it could pull a person in like gravity.

Song Yanrong gave a helpless smile. “Let it go, will you?”

She was teasing, playfully trying to defuse the tension.

But there was no denying Su Jia was holding on to some bitterness.

Thinking back, Song Yanrong realized: If she hadn’t bitten that night, things might’ve stayed under control. But she had. Then, right when things reached a tipping point, the doorbell rang, and she backed off—leaving Su Jia in an awkward and vulnerable position.

If the roles were reversed, she’d be upset too.

Their relationship wasn’t at a stage where they could openly talk about that kind of thing without embarrassment—but now, awkwardness seemed better than pretending it didn’t happen.

More importantly, when girls get upset, it’s best to resolve things quickly.

Su Jia straightened up from the bench and turned to lean against it again. It seemed she’d forgotten all about keeping any sort of “proper distance” between them.

She looked directly at Song Yanrong. “Then why?”

Song Yanrong answered frankly, “Because it was chemically induced. Once it wore off, I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t regret it. And someday, if you fall for someone else, you might end up hating me for it.”

Su Jia didn’t respond for a few seconds.

Then softly asked, “So can I interpret that as… you were afraid you might regret it too?”

Song Yanrong: “…”

Su Jia kept staring at her. “Am I wrong?”

Song Yanrong replied, “You’re not.”

She wasn’t one to deceive herself… She recalled that moment—the feeling of holding Su Jia close, teeth on her swanlike neck—and her heartbeat quickened slightly.

Hearing that, Su Jia’s heart lightened.

The dark green qipao looked like it had been tailored for her. The collar was detailed with pearls, and silver-black embroidery traced along her curves down to the slit at her thigh.

She bent forward, and the slit parted, revealing a glimpse of her jade-like leg.

“So, Miss Song is just… virtuous.”

The tone held no resentment now—more like a joke.

Song Yanrong smiled and raised her hand. Her motion was soft, as if reaching for Su Jia’s cheek.

Su Jia didn’t move. She could sense the shift in omega pheromones.

But instead of touching her, Song Yanrong let her fingers hover—then gently caught the strand of hair tangled in the pearl clasp, pulling it free.

She murmured, “Miss Su, you really don’t have to hold me in such high regard.”

If Little K hadn’t knocked on the door that night, her self-control would’ve absolutely crumbled.

…

On the way back from the shopping mall, Song Yanrong got a call from Ying Junmei, asking her to come home immediately.

No need to guess—it had to be about Zhou Yuan.

Almost every call and message over the past few days had been about that. Song Yanrong figured, it was something that had to be dealt with eventually. Might as well face it head-on.

So she agreed to return home that afternoon.

Just as she was getting ready to leave the next day, Su Jia got a call from Su Huimin.

The woman made it clear she didn’t want to make the trip and told Su Jia to come get the items herself.

Also, she insisted she was only free today—she’d be heading back to the countryside tomorrow. Any delay would waste time for both of them.

Song Yanrong offered, “Then let me come with you first.”

“No need,” Su Jia replied. “You already told your grandmother you’re on your way home. You should go back. I’ll go by myself.”

She figured the situation with Zhou Yuan wasn’t a small matter. The Zhou family matriarch was ruthless, and while Song Yanrong might be favored, she probably wouldn’t hold up against that much pressure. If both families dragged Su Jia into the mix now, it wouldn’t be worth it.

So naturally, Song Yanrong had to go back first.

“Don’t worry,” Su Jia added with a smirk. “Didn’t you teach me how to handle her?”

She mimicked Song Yanrong’s tone from yesterday, intentionally saying, “Funds will be transferred later. For 200,000, Third Miss Song wouldn’t go back on her word, right?”

Song Yanrong chuckled. This version of Su Jia reminded her of the one she first met.

Something had definitely… changed.

She asked Little K to arrange a driver to take her home and left Little K with Su Jia to accompany her to the meeting.

Once she was in the car, she noticed the glaring sun from earlier had been swallowed by dark clouds. The sky turned gloomy in an instant.

She paused, then pulled out her phone.

Only to realize—she and Su Jia had never exchanged contact information.

So she could only send a message to Little K.

“Stay safe.”

Song Yanrong’s car headed south toward Jingyuan.

At the same time, Su Jia’s car was heading north—toward the outskirts of the city.