Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 49

Chapter 49

 

The day the DNA test results arrived was also the day Su Jia wrapped filming for Double Double.

 

Song Yanrong and Su Jia had planned to visit a supermarket together.

 

They rarely went out together just to hang out. Song Yanrong had worked overtime two days in advance to free up her schedule and personally drove to the filming location to pick Su Jia up.

 

Su Jia walked out with her assistant, Xiao Nuo, carrying a bouquet of fresh flowers. Originally, they should’ve had a wrap-up dinner, but due to past conflicts with Loli, most people took Loli’s side and made excuses not to come even when Su Jia brought it up.

 

Su Jia didn’t mind at all.

 

She wasn’t interested in putting on a show of civility. After making plans to see the director again next time, she left quietly.

 

“Jia-jie, looks like President Song isn’t here yet.”

 

Su Jia looked across the parking lot but didn’t see the familiar car. Just as she was about to check her phone, the screen lit up—Yanrong.

 

“Look up.”

 

Su Jia raised her eyes. Across the lot, a jade green SUV lowered its backseat window, and inside, a familiar face was leisurely waving at her.

 

Su Jia walked over. “So flashy today.”

 

Song Yanrong smiled. “I didn’t even drive into your studio lot. That’s flashy?”

 

Su Jia said, “Shame. You should’ve driven in.”

 

“Why?”

 

“There’s a rumor going around on set that I’m being kept by a rich woman. If you’d driven in, it would’ve been solid proof.”

 

“Well, that is a shame.”

 

They both chuckled.

 

Then Song Yanrong asked, her tone more serious now, “Did they give you a hard time?”

 

The smile in her voice faded, replaced by a faint sense of pressure.

 

Su Jia had now reached the car and stood at the window on Song Yanrong’s side. Wearing a sleeveless blue-and-white dress, she bent down and rested her pale, slender arm on the window frame. “What if they did bully me?”

 

Looking up at that mischievous expression, Song Yanrong didn’t even have time to think. “Then bully them right back.”

 

She paused slightly, a small frown on her brow. “Who?”

 

Su Jia cupped Song Yanrong’s chin, gently pulled her forward, and leaned in through the car window to kiss her.

 

“Not important,” she said.

 

She claimed she had already gotten even.

 

That night, the director had come to speak with her too… asking what exactly had happened between her and Loli, and whether she had hit her.

 

Su Jia had been soaking in the bath at the time and put on a tearful, dramatic act.

 

“Director, it was all her… I never imagined someone could be so outrageous. In the restroom, she slammed me into the wall. I still have bruises on my arm and leg—I thought I was going to die! If you don’t believe me, I can send you photos. If my assistant hadn’t arrived in time, who knows what Loli would’ve done to me… I should’ve reported it, but this is my first job. I didn’t want to delay filming or cause trouble…”

 

She cried so hard she could barely breathe.

 

Even she almost believed her own story.

 

It didn’t take long.

 

The director comforted her: “Loli has a temper, yes. But whatever happened between you two, it can’t interfere with the filming. I told Loli the same. Su Jia, you’re new, and this industry will bring you many more injustices—but first and foremost, protect yourself.”

 

In the end, Su Jia sincerely thanked him.

 

In the following shoots, Loli made some veiled threats, but didn’t dare get close again.

 

Before leaving today, Loli warned that this would be Su Jia’s last performance in her life.

 

But Su Jia didn’t tell Song Yanrong.

 

There had been too much on Song Yanrong’s plate lately—company matters, Song family matters.

 

In the past, even a vague hint would prompt her to step in. But this time, seeing those tired, bloodshot phoenix eyes, Su Jia felt a pang of heartache. On a sudden impulse, she dropped any thoughts of using her.

 

At that moment, Su Jia didn’t yet understand—

 

In love, helping each other is like an oar in a boat, like soil for planting, like water in a fish tank.

 

But it is never “using.”

 

Su Jia got into the car and left.

 

Not far from the studio, two figures stood at the entrance.

 

Loli lowered her phone and sent a photo and license plate number to her assistant. “Find someone to look into this car.”

 

The assistant said nervously, “Loli-jie, um… who would I even ask?”

 

They mostly worked on small web dramas. Though called a “celebrity assistant,” her pay was low and her connections nonexistent.

 

Loli paused—true, her previous assistant had been arranged by her ex and knew the ropes. This one was just a temp, clueless.

 

She remembered seeing that neatly dressed figure the other day—even the person who ran errands for Su Jia looked elite. She’d assumed Su Jia’s backer couldn’t be too powerful, or else she’d already be starring in major network dramas instead of filming low-budget web content.

 

Annoyed, Loli said, “Forget it.”

 

Then she forwarded the photo to a wealthy alpha who’d been pursuing her—a rich second-generation from Nancheng—and asked for help identifying the car.

 

Her assistant added, “But this car is definitely not ordinary. That license plate looks so familiar. Do you recognize it?”

 

Loli’s expression turned grim.

 

She still had lingering fear over being dunked in water by Su Jia that day. Just looking at her gave her chills. Aside from today’s parting threat, she hadn’t dared provoke her—afraid that pushing her too far might actually become dangerous.

 

She had thought, as long as Su Jia didn’t have powerful backing, she could eventually crush her using her own connections.

 

But now, judging from that car, Su Jia’s backer didn’t seem simple at all.

 

That limited edition Cullinan—she’d only ever seen it in a paparazzi photo of her ex. A car so rare that even spotting it was enough to flex in group chats.

 

Loli took a deep breath.

 

She wouldn’t let this go. Even if she couldn’t take her down now, Su Jia better make sure she never slips up.

 

She saved the photo of Su Jia leaning into the car window on her tiptoes—maybe, someday, she’d use it.

 

…

 

That car Song Yanrong drove was a limited edition Cullinan originally acquired two years ago by the previous owner through Zhao Wen’s dealership.

 

The original Song Yanrong hadn’t cared much for cars, but she’d bought it just to support Zhao Wen—half-purchased, half-gifted, fully loaded.

 

Normally, she drove a Porsche or a Maybach. A few days ago, spotting the Cullinan collecting dust in the garage, she had Xiao K take it out for a spin.

 

They parked in the basement of a supermarket near Nanping Bay. Song Yanrong told Xiao K to clock out early, saying the two of them would shop alone.

 

Once Xiao K left, Song Yanrong handed Su Jia a prepared item.

 

“Miss Song, I know you’re hoping I’ll become super famous, but we’re not quite at this stage, are we?” Su Jia said with a teasing smile as she looked at the black mask Song Yanrong had passed her.

 

Song Yanrong chuckled. She unfolded the mask and gently hooked it over Su Jia’s ear. “You’ll see in a second.”

 

She put on her own mask, then opened the car door and stepped out.

 

Same usual outfit—white shirt, black slacks, white sneakers.

 

She stood straight and tall like a beautiful pine tree. Her legs, long and well-proportioned, naturally caught attention. She exuded a brisk elegance and charm.

 

She walked around to the other side, opened the door, and bent slightly to offer her hand: “Miss Su, please step out.”

 

Su Jia tried not to laugh. She placed her hand in Song Yanrong’s and let herself be helped down. Standing face to face, she looked up slightly at Song Yanrong’s face. “Are your legs okay? Doesn’t it still hurt if you stand too long?”

 

Song Yanrong replied, “So I might have to trouble our Teacher Su to cut the trip short.”

 

Su Jia gently patted her on the shoulder. “Where’d you learn that from?”

 

“I skimmed Weibo. Apparently, calling everyone ‘teacher’ is the latest trend in your industry.”

 

“Oh? But aren’t you worried people will notice your leg injury?”

 

“That’s why we brought the gear,” Song Yanrong said, looking at Su Jia—her face mostly hidden by the black mask, leaving only her stunning, bright eyes. She reached out and tapped her cheek. “Even if someone did notice, it’s not a big deal anymore.”

 

It just wasn’t the right time yet.

 

Song Yanrong had been keeping her leg injury secret in order to investigate the true cause of the car crash. But now that she’d received the DNA report from Ying Junmei, she was starting to let her guard down—because the result, undoubtedly, was negative.

 

Thinking that, Su Jia didn’t press further.

 

Besides, they were in public—it wasn’t the time for heavy conversation.

 

Song Yanrong held Su Jia’s hand and led her toward the supermarket elevator. Once inside, they headed straight to the fresh produce section.

 

They walked hand-in-hand, just like an ordinary couple, discussing whether the meat was fresh, whether the vegetables were too old, and what other ingredients they still needed.

 

Song Yanrong wasn’t good at cooking—in fact, she barely knew how.

 

Su Jia was more knowledgeable, so most of the time, she made the decisions.

 

Song Yanrong pushed the cart, watching Su Jia compare which head of lettuce was fuller and fresher.

 

Then, her gaze drifted to something in the distance. As if struck by a sudden thought, she leaned closer and whispered into Su Jia’s ear, “Teacher Su, want to go to the aquarium?”

 

Su Jia replied, “The aquarium? Sure, when?”

 

She didn’t particularly like it, but she could go. Still, where would Song Yanrong even find the time lately?

 

“Now.” Song Yanrong tugged her hand and walked forward.

 

One minute later.

 

Su Jia stood in front of a large seafood tank bubbling with oxygen: “…”

 

“Song. Yan. Rong.”

 

But Song Yanrong was beaming, clearly in a ridiculously good mood. At that moment, she stood beside Su Jia, watching her carefully choose their dinner ingredients. People bustled around the supermarket, filling the air with a lively, domestic warmth.

 

She gently touched Su Jia’s face and replied, “Yes?”

 

Su Jia looked into those smiling eyes, momentarily lost in thought, then pouted, “You’re childish.”

 

She thought to herself—Song Yanrong was rarely this childish. It was kind of cute…

 

Like the glee of a child pulling off a harmless prank.

 

Song Yanrong grinned and coaxed, “Alright, alright, I’m childish.”

 

Her leg could only bear weight for less than an hour, so they didn’t stay long before heading back.

 

Back at Nanping Bay, Song Yanrong suggested, “How about I try cooking tonight?”

 

Su Jia asked, “You can cook?”

 

Didn’t she say she couldn’t?

 

“I can’t,” Song Yanrong admitted.

 

Su Jia paused for two seconds. “Then go ahead and try.”

 

Then slowly added, “Miss Song, be careful not to crash and burn.”

 

Song Yanrong gave an OK gesture.

 

Her whole demeanor screamed one message: She had no skills, but she had confidence.

 

They’d bought some shrimp that evening. Song Yanrong searched for a simple recipe—boiled shrimp. Easy to cook, but tedious to prepare. Despite being raised as a pampered heiress herself, Su Jia skillfully taught her.

 

“You need to remove the vein, like this…”

 

A dull ache rose in Song Yanrong’s chest.

 

The two of them stood by the sink. Outside the window, cicadas chirped, though autumn was just around the corner.

 

Autumn would be brief—then came winter.

 

The sound of running water became the kitchen’s background noise.

 

Su Jia suddenly said, “There were shrimp that night when we had our fight. Did you do that to spite me?”

 

Song Yanrong paused. “A little.”

 

But mostly, it was because she’d seen through things at the time—she wanted to move on, to be kinder to herself.

 

“Loving someone can make you lose yourself,” she said.

 

Su Jia said softly, “You always seem so rational.”

 

Song Yanrong was quiet for a few seconds, then chuckled.

 

Su Jia asked, “What’s so funny?”

 

“I was just wondering—when stir-frying lettuce, do you add the garlic first or the lettuce?”

 

Su Jia said either way was fine—as long as it tasted good.

 

“Alright then, I’m feeling the pressure now,” Song Yanrong joked as she placed the cleaned shrimp on a plate.

 

She thought, If I were truly rational, we wouldn’t be standing here doing all this together.

 

Song Yanrong rarely regretted anything.

 

Tonight was an exception.

 

The lettuce, garlic, and burnt flavor all melded together into something unrecognizable, but Su Jia still placed it on the table as a proper dish.

 

The other dishes turned out okay, since Su Jia stepped in to help later. But that one plate of lettuce… well, it had every color and every flavor imaginable.

 

Su Jia took a bite, pressed her lips together, and said, “Edible.”

 

Song Yanrong foolishly believed her, took a bite herself—and immediately spit it out. “Thank you, my savior.”

 

She tried to remove the plate, but Su Jia, smiling with amusement, stopped her. “Why take it away? You made it—I think it tastes great.”

 

Song Yanrong still removed it. It was both burnt and salty.

 

She promised, “Don’t eat it. Next time, I’ll make you something even better.”

 

After that, whenever she had free time, cooking tutorial videos would play in her office. She was even seen in the company cafeteria kitchen during lunch breaks.

 

But Su Jia wouldn’t learn about any of that until much, much later.

 

By then, Song Yanrong had already mastered several regional cuisines.

 

Yet the person who got to taste them… wasn’t Su Jia.

 

…

 

After dinner, they brought up the DNA results.

 

Just as they’d suspected, Song Yanrong and Ying Junmei had no biological connection.

 

This meant one of two things: either Song Yanrong’s father wasn’t Ying Junmei’s biological husband, or Song Yanrong herself wasn’t biologically related to the man she believed was her father. In any case, Ying Junmei now had motive in the suspicious car accident.

 

Considering the contents of the will, her involvement seemed even more likely.

 

But something still didn’t sit right with Song Yanrong. Before the crash, the original her had been completely obedient to Ying Junmei. Why would Ying suddenly make a move? It didn’t seem necessary.

 

She thought for a moment, then asked, “Let’s say she deleting all the surveillance footage makes sense. But why destroy Han Yiwen’s car too?”

 

She poured Su Jia a glass of warm water. Su Jia took a sip and looked up.

 

“There are three possibilities. One: Han Yiwen was an accomplice. Two: Han Yiwen could be framed as the culprit, since aside from the perpetrator’s vehicle, only hers was at the scene. Three…”

 

“Three: Her dashcam captured the real killer,” Song Yanrong finished flatly.

 

That was the most likely of the three.

 

Their thinking aligned. Su Jia temporarily ruled out the first possibility. The second was possible but complicated to pull off.

 

If it was the third: “Then if she could destroy the car, why not just remove the dashcam footage? Why go through all that trouble?”

 

“So maybe,” Song Yanrong said, “it’s a mix of the second and third. I suspect not only did the dashcam capture something, but Han Yiwen may have seen the culprit without realizing it. Destroying the car was also a way to scare her.”

 

Su Jia thought it over. Truth was, Han Yiwen hadn’t dared go to the police back then precisely because her car had mysteriously vanished.

 

That kind of calculation and caution—only Ying Junmei seemed capable of it.

 

Neither Song Hanshuang nor Zhou Yuan struck her as that meticulous. But, of course, there are always exceptions.

 

Su Jia asked, “Even so, we have no real evidence. How do you plan to confirm who it was?”

 

Playing mind games didn’t seem to work. The culprit was too patient.

 

But Song Yanrong wasn’t worried. She said calmly, “Even if I don’t have proof, I already know all the suspects are sitting at the same table. Old grudges, new ones—they all count. I’ll deal with them together.”

 

“Of course,” she added, “if one of them slips up and reveals themselves, even better.”

 

Su Jia frowned. “What table?”

 

“Back in that small town, on our wedding day,” Song Yanrong said slowly, “I made you a promise. That one day, I’d return every wound you ever suffered.”

 

Her gaze turned sharp.

 

“I haven’t forgotten.”