Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 40
Chapter 40
“You—”
In the dim light, Su Jia’s expression of surprise was hard to see clearly, leaving only her soft cry of alarm.
One of her arms was restrained by Song Yanrong, her waist tightened, her leg yielding beneath another stronger one. She could clearly feel the burning pulse under the smooth skin.
“Your legs were never injured at all!” Su Jia said hurriedly, though she didn’t sound as shocked as one might expect.
Song Yanrong’s body smelled of alcohol and a mix of body wash. Even though she was excited, the alcohol still affected her physically. Her words carried a long exhale and a hardness unique to women: “Correct.”
Song Yanrong knew this behavior amounted to a full confession. She never intended to hide it forever.
But after things with Su Jia went south, there was no longer any need to talk about it.
Letting Su Jia know now wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Su Jia slowly recovered from her surprise and accused: “You said I lied to you, but didn’t you also hide things from me? You’ve been lying to me since our first meeting.”
Song Yanrong chuckled lowly. “No.”
She said, “When I first met you, I just noticed that your touch brought feeling to my legs…”
She spoke clearly, word by word, without the slightest concealment.
From their first meeting at the Song family home, realizing Su Jia’s touch was special, to growing close, being marked, and her legs mysteriously healing faster… to seeing Song Lü and confirming it was Su Jia’s pheromones helping—she explained it all.
From the moment she figured it out, she had never intended to keep it secret.
“I was going to tell you the afternoon I was discharged—that was the same day you went for your first audition,” she said slowly, her voice tinged with the lazy warmth of someone slightly drunk. But to Su Jia, that warmth felt like a slow, torturous cut.
She could sense the disappointment in Song Yanrong’s tone as she recalled those moments.
The rest was left unsaid.
Su Jia remembered that day in silence.
That lie marked the first crack in their relationship.
After that, forget talking—Song Yanrong barely even gave her a kind look. Or rather, she did say nice things and smile, but it felt worse than if she hadn’t.
Every time she saw Song Yanrong’s calm, emotionless demeanor, Su Jia felt a strong urge to shatter it.
She didn’t want Song Yanrong to be indifferent. She didn’t want her to be calm.
She wanted her to melt. To break.
She wanted Song Yanrong to be as dependent and possessive of her as she had once been.
She wanted Song Yanrong to love her.
Not like this—where she could be so easily given up.
“Then why tell me now?” Su Jia asked.
Song Yanrong’s grip on her waist tightened slightly.
She explained how at first, her goal was to figure out what made Su Jia special. Once she confirmed it with Song Lü, she’d been thrilled. She’d been immersed in Su Jia, eager to tell her, not wanting her to misunderstand that she was only interested because of the healing.
She imagined Su Jia would be happy for her. She even fantasized about doing more with her after recovery—traveling, shopping, running, cooking together… she had thought, even if it meant showing her weakness, it would be worth it.
That’s what liking someone is like.
People might call it being a love-struck fool, but she didn’t see it that way.
Even if it’s a sudden crush, no matter how rushed or fragile, it’s still a quake in a barren heart.
You’d find yourself doing things you never imagined.
Like always checking your phone, even turning the volume up, marking that person as a special contact.
Even if you’re not a talker, you’d stay on the phone till sunrise.
Even if you’re cautious and calculating, you’d still hand over your weakness to them.
But Su Jia had made her realize: the pain of betrayal in her old life still lingered. In this new life, she’d placed hope in Su Jia—as a new beginning. So the disappointment was crushing.
Like a balloon suddenly deflating.
Song Yanrong said, “Now that you know, you can decide for yourself. I won’t stop you. You can leave Nanping Bay. As for the contract… helping you isn’t difficult. I’ll still do it.”
She seemed like someone who no longer had a weakness.
It was as if she was saying—”I never gave you my vulnerability. My legs are no longer one.”
Su Jia froze and asked softly, “Don’t you want to fully recover your legs?”
Song Yanrong replied, “I do. But I no longer care. If I did, I could’ve just kept pretending.”
Just like you did. But she didn’t say that out loud.
Su Jia laughed bitterly, “That makes me look worse now.”
“You’re still not as bad as people I’ve met before. At least you didn’t try to kill me.”
Even in this moment, with that physical intimacy and tension, Song Yanrong still had the clarity to bicker.
Su Jia suddenly thought of something, but unlike Song Yanrong, she couldn’t stay rational. Her words stung: “You never told me when your legs started to recover, either.”
Song Yanrong acknowledged: “True.”
At first, it was to protect herself. Plus, she wasn’t sure of the cause… there really wasn’t much justification.
“So we’re equal in this. Does it really have to be this way, Song Yanrong? I don’t want that. Couldn’t we go back to how things were?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Su Jia asked.
“Because I can’t forget.”
She had seen with her own eyes—Su Jia speaking sweetly to someone else on the phone, using the same voice she used every morning when they parted.
“And because if we both had things to hide, it means the problem wasn’t just that. You don’t understand me. I don’t know you,” Song Yanrong said. “Su Jia, let’s just stop here. Maybe we can still get along peacefully.”
The moment her voice dropped—
Click—
The bedside lamp flicked on.
Song Yanrong squinted at the sudden light, then saw the teary-eyed woman beneath her, trembling lashes, glowing eyes.
It was hard to say what that glow meant.
Su Jia wanted to see her more clearly.
“Miss Song, were you always this cold-hearted?”
“Miss Su, were you always this good at pretending?”
For a moment, it was as if two people from opposite shores drew their swords, blades pointed at each other.
No words between them. When Song Yanrong tried to pull away, Su Jia suddenly grabbed her neck, yanked her down, and bit her.
Song Yanrong gasped from the pain: “You’re not a dog! Why do you keep biting people?”
Su Jia let go with a snort: “If I were, would it matter? You’re right. I’m good at pretending. We don’t know each other at all… but you didn’t seem to mind that the first time you f*cked me.”
She coughed twice after that.
Song Yanrong: “…”
So the masks were off. Nothing was off-limits anymore.
Song Yanrong: “You want to fight?”
“I’ve been wanting to.” Su Jia’s voice was hoarse, breathy, like she couldn’t catch her breath. “Then why do you still care? Why bring me a blanket?”
Song Yanrong pulled her hand off and sat up above her, replying: “Next time I won’t.”
“…Fine. So it’s all my fault now. I seduced you. You’re the saint here.”
“I’m not a saint.”
“Oh? You could back then, but now I so much as touch you and you act like you’ll break. What’s wrong—can’t get it up, or are you too fragile now?”
Song Yanrong sneered: “Miss Su, stop deflecting.”
Su Jia smiled faintly: “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
She hadn’t meant to say such awful things—she’d planned to apologize, explain about Han Yiwen.
But now…
She was in a satin nightdress, the fabric sliding over her chest with every breath, making one want to grab it. Her dress had bunched at her soft belly. Below, she was lush and inviting.
That face—right now she looked like a defiant fox spirit. Weak, sickly, but still trying to seduce and enrage her hunter.
Ready to risk life and death.
Song Yanrong narrowed her eyes: “Don’t you know if it’s true or not?”
Su Jia: “I don’t. You said I’m good at acting. My acting isn’t just for off the bed—it’s good on the bed too…”
Before she could finish that filthy line, Song Yanrong pulled her up. In their struggle, they fell to the carpet with a thud. Su Jia dragged her down.
Kicks were exchanged. Song Yanrong grabbed her thigh and—
They ended up by the floor-to-ceiling window.
Song Yanrong pushed Su Jia up against the glass, lifted her dress, and entered her.
No foreplay.
They didn’t need it. Not anymore.
The sudden force hurt. Especially in this position. Su Jia coughed.
Seconds later, the pain blurred into something else.
Song Yanrong grabbed her face and turned it to the glass where her reflection showed a face twisted in pleasure. Her voice was dry and low: “So is this acting, Miss Su?”
Brutally direct.
She added: “Look closely.”
Su Jia opened her mouth, but her face had already betrayed her.
She wanted to see Song Yanrong’s face. She’d never seen her standing before. She wanted to see if she was moved.
But Song Yanrong didn’t let her.
She wasn’t trying to please Su Jia. It was more like punishment—for her sharp tongue. The pleasure gave way to pain again. Su Jia trembled and whimpered. She couldn’t take it.
It wasn’t enjoyable anymore.
Su Jia realized—yes, she didn’t really understand Song Yanrong either.
At least, she had never seen her this harsh.
Two seconds later, Song Yanrong pulled out. The emptiness came fast.
Su Jia slid down, but Song Yanrong caught her, and they collapsed together on the carpet.
Neither spoke. The night was quiet.
One drunk, one sick.
Both exhausted.
Before falling asleep, Song Yanrong vaguely saw a damp patch on the gray carpet not far away.
…
Later in the night, the cold woke them. Someone instinctively drew closer.
Su Jia clung to Song Yanrong in her sleep. Their skin touched. Soft and fragrant. She hugged her tighter, like reunited lovers, and kissed her neck, ear, cheek… lips.
Just a few kisses.
Song Yanrong suddenly woke.
Her head was pounding. She looked at the still half-asleep Su Jia, picked her up and laid her in bed, tucking her in.
She returned with medicine and warm water.
“Get up and take the pills.”
Su Jia’s head was buried under the blanket. Song Yanrong called her name: “Su Jia.”
Su Jia answered: “Got it.”
Before closing the door, Song Yanrong said, “Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Su Jia heard the door shut. She pulled the blanket from her face, gloomy and unwilling.
Song Yanrong was just too hard to coax.
Her legs were sore from standing too long today. She got back in her wheelchair.
Wheeled to the sofa, lay down, and recalled Su Jia’s earlier words—
“Han Yiwen and I met when we were young. That year, my father had just died. Her family worked in the funeral business. Her mom helped us a lot. We got close… she was polite, kind. My mom liked her and even joked once about us getting engaged when we were older.”
A hoarse voice filled the silence.
Su Jia continued: “I liked being around her, but I never had romantic feelings. My mom never knew Han Yiwen took it seriously, and treated me especially well for years… especially the year my family fell apart.”
That year was the hardest of her life.