Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 44
Chapter 44
Song Yanrong didn’t know exactly what happened between Song Lu and Song Qi that night—only that the next day, Aunt Song Qi had still gone abroad. But in truth, Song Lu carried Song Qi into the garden and out of sight.
Su Jia softly said to Song Yanrong, downcast:
“Do you think I asked whether you really are Ying Junmei’s granddaughter only because of her attitude toward you? It’s because neither Song Qi nor Song Lu seemed like people who’d fall in love if they were bl00d relatives.”
Unless one of them isn’t actually related.
That was Su Jia’s suspicion, though neither of them had confirmed it. Even if it crossed the bounds of morality—but no one else needed to know.
Song Yanrong nodded. Whatever their relationship, if there were no guilt or regret in their hearts, no one could say anything.
They turned to a bookshelf and talked casually for a while before Song Yanrong fell silent, flipping through a book on Nancheng’s economic history.
Su Jia, noticing how little reading material was there—many new books still unopened—remarked teasingly as she picked one:
“Quite a wide range of interests, Miss Song.”
When Song Yanrong looked up, Su Jia revealed the title: Spring Solutions. Inside were illustrations of two women in explicit sexual positions—complete with diagrams and labeled tools like gag plugs and clamps.
Song Yanrong was speechless and suddenly embarrassed.
“I’m not sure,” she shrugged.
“But this copy looks old—well-read. This page even has creases…” Su Jia flipped again and read a detailed instructional line, then faltered.
Quickly, Song Yanrong covered her lips with her hand, her ears reddening.
“No reading aloud!”
Though she didn’t sound angry, there was a firm tone that carried no real threat.
Su Jia grinned, tracing her finger along Song Yanrong’s hand and thumb-pursed her middle finger into a soft kiss. Then she asked quietly:
“Want to shower first?”
Song Yanrong showered while Su Jia chose a dark green nightdress. She caught glimpses of the wet book thrown into the trash—Su Jia knew the book was thrown away because it had been discovered.
At that moment, a housekeeper knocked:
“Mrs. Ying Junmei asked you to come to the front hall… she wants just you.”
Su Jia paused—an invitation at that hour couldn’t be good. Song Yanrong was still in the shower. The housekeeper added that Lady Ying Junmei was already waiting.
Su Jia told her to wait, then decided to let Song Yanrong know, stepping outside. From behind the curtain, Song Yanrong’s calm voice said:
“Let me finish and come with you.”
Su Jia responded she’d go ahead and report back. Song Yanrong could take her time showering.
Su Jia sensed the risk—that Ying Junmei might be testing her or regulating something. She headed downstairs alone.
Meanwhile, on the second-floor hallway, Zhou Yuan checked her phone and smiled demonically, then corrected her tight dress and went out—high heels silent on carpet. As she reached the third floor, she nearly collided with Song Hancong’s alpha aggression, pushing her into the wall and squeezing her throat.
Alpha rage pulsed:
“I knew you couldn’t behave! You’re lusting after Song Yanrong! How shameless!”
Zhou Yuan gasped, struggled: “Let go!”
Song Hancong threw her off with contempt:
“I warned you—don’t start trouble. Song Yanrong didn’t even glance at you. You’ve lost all sense.”
A venomous tension crackled—Zhou Yuan retreated, ranting bitterly about Song Hancong happily displaying affection with Song Yanrong. Song Hancong answered coldly that once Su’s company collapsed, the display of love would no longer matter.
Zhou Yuan sneered in response. Song Hancong warned her to go back to her room or never enjoy anything good again. Zhou Yuan stomped out, got in her Cayenne, and left.
From a storage room near the corridor, Su Jia observed everything. She realized the housekeeper was newly hired, likely by Zhou Yuan, tasked only to send a message. She warned the housekeeper to tell Zhou Yuan and left to hear Song Hancong’s conversation.
Song Hancong, irritated by Zhou Yuan, fetched a bottle of red wine from the cellar for company. But as she entered her room, a sharp “sting” at her neck froze her—something small pressed into it.
“Don’t move if you don’t want to die,” came Su Jia’s voice from the shadow.
Startled, Song Hancong gasped—Su Jia had secretly swapped whatever weapon was meant for her when Zhou Yuan was engaged, possibly to protect Song Yanrong.
“What is this?” she gasped.
Su Jia smiled coldly:
“Remember the engagement night and what you were going to use on me? When you tried, it didn’t work—because I switched it.”
Song Hancong tried to warn her that this was the Song family, that nothing escapes them, but Su Jia replied:
“Let’s see.”
Her tone was calm and question-like:
“What’s the truth behind the collapse of the Su family that makes you so certain I’d turn on Song Yanrong? Tell me.”
…
Upstairs, Su Jia returned to Song Yanrong’s room. As she entered, Song Yanrong asked in a slightly worried tone:
“Where did you go?”
Standing just inside the door, Su Jia saw Song Yanrong—tall, long-haired, still dripping from the shower, wearing a black silk nightdress. She looked pale, cold, and disciplined—like a winter pine in snow.
Su Jia paused to take her in, then walked in.
“You left your phone,” Song Yanrong said, relieved.
“On silent. You tried calling,” Su Jia replied.
Song Yanrong was anxious—it worried her too much. The housekeeper said Lady Ying Junmei had left twenty minutes ago. She had searched but found no answer. She’d even meant to call Ying Junmei.
Song Yanrong asked:
“What’s going on?”
At the sink towel rack, Su Jia grabbed a towel and draped it over Song Yanrong’s head, covering her face. She lifted it upward, obscuring her vision.
Before Song Yanrong responded, Su Jia asked softly:
“Yanrong, when you took me away and helped me… was it just because of your leg, or was there another reason?”
Song Yanrong thought seriously:
“If I said pity and regret—would you feel bad?”
Su Jia challenged:
“Pity? Regret? My family status?”
Song Yanrong replied softly:
“All of it.”
She had read about Su Jia’s background and the hardships ahead. Seeing such a beautiful woman reduced to that state, she couldn’t help but pity.
“Do you know how my family went bankrupt?” Su Jia pressed.
Song Yanrong focused, responding carefully:
“I’ve heard that your family was framed by a rival who exploited a shell company, then accumulated debt and interest… until it collapsed.”
Su Jia interrupted:
“But where did you go earlier—and why?”
Song Yanrong peeled the towel from her eyes—direct eye contact restored. Su Jia stood tall, pushing it down to Song Yanrong’s neck—a subtle but powerful gesture.
Despite minimizing it, Su Jia felt the alpha’s weight. Song Yanrong pressed lightly in return, closing the final distance.
Song Yanrong’s breaths quickened: “Nothing.”
Su Jia’s tone remained casual. She had just learned that Ying Junmei and Song Yanrong’s parents had orchestrated the collapse of the Su family—a discovery she’d only tested Song Yanrong’s knowledge about—nothing more. She wouldn’t break up with Song Yanrong over it.
She followed, obeyed, loved—truly.
Yet a dark whisper emerged in her mind: No matter how much Song Yanrong loves you, hurt you, or how many crimes your parents commit—she will never help you. You must rely only on yourself.
And in that moment, Su Jia felt a poisonous vine begin to sprout in her heart.