Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Su Jia’s only response was to clutch tightly at the sweat-dampened shirt at Song Yanrong’s waist.
Her eyes fell into the shadow cast by Song Yanrong.
Unconsciously, her grip tightened further, as if she too was being roasted under the scorching sun—her tongue and body both burning hot.
At first, Song Yanrong was incredibly gentle, tasting her little by little, relying solely on her lips—but Su Jia wasn’t satisfied.
So Song Yanrong gently pinched her lips apart and slipped inside.
Only when their breaths grew faint and shallow did Song Yanrong finally pull back.
“Miss Song, I have a question for you too.”
Su Jia’s chest rose and fell as she spoke, her breath unsteady.
With her head lowered, Song Yanrong looked down. Su Jia’s lips were slightly parted, glistening, revealing the pink of her tongue. Her expression and gaze carried an unspeakable allure.
Like a siren.
At that moment, Song Yanrong finally thought of the perfect contact name to save her under.
Her voice was husky as she asked, “What is it?”
“When do you plan to kiss me next?”
Song Yanrong let out a short laugh. She could tell that Su Jia was complaining that she had actually bothered to ask before doing it.
She countered with a question of her own: “That depends. When does Miss Su want me to?”
“Right… now.”
Su Jia stared at her, focused and unwavering.
Song Yanrong felt the tug at her waist again. Her eyes darkened, and she pushed Su Jia back onto the couch. This time, her kiss was deeper.
In the sunlit living room, only their moans and the sound of intermingled breaths remained.
A long while passed.
They finally stopped. Song Yanrong rested her forehead against Su Jia’s ear. Their clothes were a crumpled mess—especially Song Yanrong’s.
Only one button remained on her blouse, and the black bra beneath clung hotly to her skin, pressing against Su Jia’s similarly disheveled shirt.
But they didn’t go further.
There was a peaceful stillness between them, like a quiet rest. Their bodies pressed together in a calm embrace—somehow more moving than lust itself.
Su Jia seemed dazed.
She didn’t quite understand why this moment gave her such a profound sense of peace.
After a pause, Song Yanrong whispered by her ear: “There’s something I need to tell you. Song Hanshuang is marrying Zhou Yuan. I told Ying Junmei about our wedding, and she suggested we hold the ceremonies together…”
Su Jia froze.
Song Hanshuang and Zhou Yuan were getting married?
And they wanted to have a joint wedding with her and Song Yanrong?
Either of those things on their own was shocking enough.
Song Yanrong had been just as surprised at first, but after thinking it through, she understood. At this point, Ying Junmei likely realized there was no way to separate her and Su Qia—so she chose to go with the flow.
This way, she could keep Song Yanyong appeased and prevent her from making trouble using her shares.
And with the buzz around South City lately about them, the rumors were flying. Since their previous clarifications weren’t very convincing, going public would be the boldest way to put things to rest.
The Song sisters weren’t feuding. There was no scandalous love triangle. Instead, it was a strong political alliance between the Song and Zhou families.
Anyone still bold enough to spread nonsense would have to ask themselves—can they really take on two powerhouses?
It was a smart move.
And yet…
To Song Yanrong, it all looked like a massive chessboard—every person just another piece. Herself included.
She propped herself up, and a chill immediately kissed her skin. She lowered her gaze to Su Jia’s glowing white chest and gently pulled her shirt back down.
“I’ve thought about it. This wedding could benefit us too. We’d planned to announce it eventually anyway. The wedding will just make it more public… What do you think?”
The sudden distance between them felt too abrupt for Su Qia. She hooked her arms around Song Yanrong’s neck: “Sure.”
That small gesture of dependence made Song Yanrong soften. She added quietly, “Given your future career, I’ll make sure the event stays private—no reporters.”
“Okay.”
Intimacy, it seemed, only needed a bit of compromise to come naturally.
And when Su Jia didn’t reject her, even welcomed her closeness—that satisfaction was unlike anything else.
“Do you have anything you like?” Song Yanrong asked. “Even if this wasn’t how we originally wanted it, if we’re doing it, it should be something you like.”
Su Jia realized she meant the wedding.
She’d never thought about it before. “I haven’t really considered it.”
“Well, think about it now,” Song Yanrong said. “Whatever you like.”
Su Jia gave it some serious thought, then casually answered, “Flowers, I guess.”
“Got it.”
“Song Yanrong?”
“Hm?”
“Kiss me again.”
Song Yanrong’s eyes darkened: “I was just about to.”
…
Song Yanrong hadn’t expected that, starting from that day, she would spend nearly a month completely caught up in land and new property development deals.
Su Jia, too, was busy preparing for the Baijia interview. She’d returned to her old school and hired instructors for sculpting and physical conditioning.
She had been out of basic training for too long—her body needed time to adjust.
So during this time, they rarely saw each other.
Occasionally, when Su Jia felt in the mood, she’d wait for Song Yanrong to come home, and they’d cuddle for a while—on the sofa or in bed.
When things got too heated, Song Yanrong would help Su Jia release some tension, sometimes teasing her neck, her teeth grazing her gland—coming dangerously close but never actually marking her.
At first, Su Jia didn’t mind. Pleasure didn’t have to involve a mark.
But lately, her gland had started acting up. Only Song Yanrong’s scent seemed to ease the pain. And every time they separated, the discomfort came back stronger.
Su Jia decided to go see Song Lyu.
Early morning, in the AO specialist wing of the hospital, two or three nurses were whispering in the hallway.
“I heard the Song family has three daughters. Besides the two who are about to get married, there’s also a second daughter no one’s ever seen.”
“You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
One of them hinted, “What’s Dr. Song’s last name again?”
Then came a gasp.
From behind them, Su Qia heard the word “Come in” from inside the office. She pushed open the door.
Song Lyu didn’t even look up from her computer.
“Second sister,” Su Qia greeted.
Song Lyu frowned and looked up at her. Su Jia smiled lazily. “Long time no see.”
“You’ve adjusted quickly to your new identity.”
“You know why I got married—no need to mock me.”
She sat across from Song Lyu, one leg draped over the other, slouched in her chair, straight to the point: “Doctor Song, my gland’s been acting up lately.”
Su Jia normally wasn’t so impatient, but the frequency of her flare-ups was increasing—and she rarely saw Song Yanrong.
Her body was restless, and so was her mind.
The examination didn’t take long. Soon, Song Lyu looked at the report, her expression tightening: “You haven’t…”
She quickly corrected herself. “You haven’t been marked.”
She’d actually known from Su Jia’s first visit that Song Yanrong hadn’t marked her. That’s why she’d warned Su Jia not to regret it later.
But this long without a mark? That was surprising.
Was Song Yanrong really that noble? That didn’t fit her style.
And Su Jia had made it very clear she was willing to be marked.
These two…
Su Jia asked, “So how does this relate to my gland problem?”
“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” Song Lyu said coldly. “I told you what would happen if you kept getting close to Song Yanrong.”
—”The more you’re drawn to her, the worse it’ll get. Eventually, suppressants won’t work, and you’ll need stronger doses, temporary markings, maybe even a permanent one. The attraction becomes addictive, and in the end, you’ll beg her to mark you.”
“Song Yanrong is your 0.01%—she naturally exerts a strong pull on you. The longer you’re around her, the worse it becomes. At this point, physical intimacy alone won’t satisfy you…”
Song Lyu continued calmly, “Your body is craving her mark. Without it, you’re in distress—hence the gland discomfort, the irritability. If it worsens, your emotions could spiral out of control.”
Silence filled the office.
Half a minute later, Su Jia asked, “So if she marks me, I’ll be fine?”
“Yes.”
After a pause, Su Jia said, “Got it.”
She already sensed how seriously Song Yanrong treated things like marriage and marking.
Even their first time, Song Yanrong had exercised so much restraint…
Later, when she took the initiative, Su Jia hadn’t expected it—but it was a good thing. They’d come so far, the mark was only a matter of time.
She didn’t mind waiting.
Once, in the shower, she’d asked Song Yanrong why she stopped.
Yanrong was quiet, then asked, “Su Jia, do you like me?”
She hesitated—not because she didn’t know the answer, but because of the intense look in Yanrong’s eyes. It terrified her.
It made her feel like any lies would be instantly seen through—like she was acting poorly in front of someone who saw everything.
Even when she said she liked her, Song Yanrong only held her and softly replied, “Okay.”
Then she gripped her waist, made her straddle her from behind, parted her legs, and touched her: “They say after five marks, an Omega develops dependency. I want to—but I also know what that means for you.”
“I want you because I have feelings for you. But you… you’re not ready.”
Yes—those eyes were too sharp.
As if they could see straight into her messy, selfish heart—and say: You’re not ready.
…
Another half-minute passed before Su Qia stood to leave. At the door, she paused and said, “I heard from Song Yanrong that your aunt from the Song family will be at the wedding.”
She glanced sideways.
For once, the normally ice-cold Song Lyu had turned ghostly pale.
…
September 20.
The news of the Song and Zhou family alliance was a bombshell in South City.
Besides the always-in-the-news Song Hanshuang, the third Miss Song and Zhou family’s heiress had rarely been seen in public. Especially Miss Su—no one had yet caught a clear photo of her face.
Naturally, the wedding was a media sensation.
Very few reporters managed to sneak pictures. Guests were kindly reminded not to take photos.
The ceremony took place on a private island at a luxurious five-star resort, fully decked out in flowers from the entrance to the ballroom—a breathtaking sight.
Mostly roses.
Song Yanrong and Su Jia had separate dressing rooms on opposite ends of the venue—as per AO norms.
In her room, the makeup artist dusted a final layer of powder on Song Yanrong: “Miss Song, your complexion is better than most celebrities. If you went into acting, you’d be wildly popular.”
A light cough reminded the artist of Song Yanrong’s background. She pressed her lips together.
But Song Yanrong didn’t mind. “Is that so? Maybe my wife is the one who should be a celebrity.”
She was so warm and easygoing—nothing like her harsh public image. The mood relaxed.
The artist beamed, “That’s true! I just saw her earlier—she’s drop-dead gorgeous!”
Yanrong smiled and sent a message.
Tired?
A while later:
Su Siren: A little. You?
I’m okay. Just a bit tight in this dress.
She waited again.
Su Siren: Just finished makeup. Getting into the dress now.
Wanna come help me loosen it a bit?
Yanrong stared at the screen, her throat suddenly dry. She took a sip of water and said to the staff: “You all go ahead. I’m stepping out for a breather.”
She was reminded not to go far.
She nodded.
The hallway was quiet, reserved for the brides. Just a few staff members passed by.
As she approached Su Jia’s dressing room, she turned a corner—and ran into Zhou Yuan, dressed in white.
“No greeting for me?” Zhou Yuan said with a smirk, arms crossed.
“Is it necessary?”
“Of course,” Zhou Yuan grinned. “We’re going to be family. Shouldn’t you be calling me… sister-in-law?”
Yanrong’s face turned cold as she looked away and tried to pass.
But Zhou Yuan stepped in front: “Yanrong, we were close once. Treating me like this will bring you karma, don’t you think?”
“I’d like to find out,” Yanrong replied icily. “Move.”
Zhou Yuan’s smile vanished. Still, she stepped aside.
But as Yanrong passed, Zhou Yuan suddenly embraced her from behind—and kissed her cheek.
Yanrong’s expression turned vicious. She twisted Zhou Yuan’s wrist!
“Looks like that slap last time didn’t hurt enough!”
Zhou Yuan gasped, but her voice was teasing: “Ah… you’re hurting me… gentler, please…”
Yanrong squeezed harder, almost crushing her, then flung her away.
Zhou Yuan clutched her wrist. “Oops, your dress got stained. But that lipstick suits you. I wonder how your bride will feel seeing that.”
Yanrong looked down—sure enough, red smudges marred the lace. Her face darkened.
She couldn’t go to Su Jia like this—not without cleaning up first.
Her gaze turned murderous. The alpha pressure radiating off her made Zhou Yuan collapse against the wall, shaking, barely able to breathe.
“You’d better hope I don’t kill you right now.”
“Stay away from me. This is your last warning.”
She wheeled around and disappeared down the hall.
Only then did Zhou Yuan start breathing again. Clutching her chest, she rose and looked toward Su Jia’s dressing room door—closed now.
But earlier…
Su Jia had been standing right there.
She had seen everything.
Zhou Yuan felt a thrill. She slowly pulled out her phone, her heels clicking erratically as she staggered away.
“Go ahead with the inducer,” she said into the phone.
“If Su Jia goes into heat in front of everyone—I want to see how they plan to finish this wedding…”
But what Zhou Yuan didn’t know was—just after she left, a shadow in a black gown slipped past the wall nearby.
…
The makeup table was covered in luxury products.
Su Jia sat in front of the mirror. Earlier, while waiting for Song Yanrong, she’d wiped off most of her lipstick.
Now, she chose a new one.
Twisting the tube, the creamy red color shaped her lips perfectly.
Her makeup was flawless—almost too perfect.
Then, suddenly, her fingers clenched—and she snapped the lipstick in half against the table.
Red smeared into black like a rose buried in night.
She took a deep breath, her mind replaying the scene like a film—Zhou Yuan embracing and kissing Song Yanrong.
She needed a cigarette.
Even after everything Zhou Yuan had done, she’d never hated her as much as she did right now.
Her fingertips trembled.
Suddenly, the door knocked.
Su Jia said nothing. A female staff member entered with a cup.
“Miss Su, Miss Song asked me to bring you this rose tea.”
Hearing Song Yanrong’s name, Su Jia bit the inside of her cheek and said nothing. Her expression was too cold—the staff member flinched and fled.
Her phone buzzed.
She waited several seconds before checking it.
Take a break, okay?
I’ll come see you in a bit.
Su Jia clutched the phone, eyes reddening. She knew Zhou Yuan had done it on purpose—it had nothing to do with Song Yanrong.
But she was still furious.
The door opened again.
Su Jia had no patience left. She snapped, “Get out.”
But when she looked up, the fury in her eyes faded slightly.
Song Lyu, dressed in black, stood calmly at the door…