Transmigrated as the Disabled Alpha of the Yandere Film Empress - Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Song Yanrong didn’t back down at all. During the confrontation, Song Hanshuang was rendered speechless multiple times, which made her wonder if Song Yanrong’s brain had somehow evolved—she’d never been this sharp-tongued before.
Especially infuriating was how calmly she spoke—worse than her former rascal attitude.
Ying Junmei gave Song Yanrong a look, then slowly closed her eyes.
“Just go with the plan we discussed. Things have reached this point—we can’t let everyone laugh at the Song family… The rest, we’ll deal with after some time has passed.”
That last part was directed at Song Hanshuang.
“Grandma!”
Ying Junmei waved her hand, silencing her. “You want the whole world to know about this family scandal? The shareholder meeting is coming up. What? You’ll only be satisfied if every shareholder and employee is whispering behind our backs, mocking the Song family?”
Faced with this kind of sharp rebuke, Song Hanshuang didn’t dare talk back. Though she was CEO in name, it was clear that the real authority in the family was still the old matriarch.
But accepting this situation? That was something she couldn’t stomach.
“Yanrong, today I’m shielding you not because you’re right, but because I refuse to let the Song family become a laughingstock in Nancheng. Understand?” Ying Junmei’s voice turned cold. “This kind of thing must never happen again.”
Song Yanrong replied cooperatively, “I understand.”
With that, Song Yanrong’s purpose for returning to the Song residence was fulfilled.
She ignored Song Hanshuang’s withering stare and prepared to leave when Ying Junmei added, “Word has probably already spread about you bringing someone home. Tonight, you and Sun Jia will stay here. Hanshuang too. That way, the narrative will sound more convincing.”
Song Yanrong thought about it, nodded. She figured Sun Jia wouldn’t have a problem with it, but she still planned to ask.
Meanwhile, Song Hanshuang looked absolutely livid.
Back upstairs, the room was cold with air-conditioning. Sun Jia sat on the edge of the bed, sunlight filtering onto her pink cheeks and rosy lips. Her posture was lazy, like a little white cat sunbathing.
Song Yanrong explained everything to her.
“If you don’t want to stay here…”
Sun Jia shook her head. “I don’t mind.”
She hadn’t heard the full conversation downstairs, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t know what exactly Song Yanrong needed from her, but for now, she was willing to treat her as an ally.
Until she no longer needed her.
However, she had overestimated her physical condition. After using an inhibitor, she was generally unaffected—unless Song Yanrong was nearby. But earlier in the side room, both of their glands suddenly heated up intensely.
Her legs were still weak when she returned to the room.
She rested for a while, but her body remained hot.
She messaged Song Lü for an update, but there was no reply yet.
Song Yanrong noticed the thermostat showed only 18°C and casually asked, “Are you feeling hot?”
She rolled her wheelchair over toward Sun Jia.
Sun Jia looked at her, paused for two seconds, then turned to grab her water cup and sipped before replying, “Mm, a little.”
The cold air in the room muted all scent.
But once Song Yanrong entered, her alpha pheromones—cool and laced with a complex, addictive aroma—permeated the space.
Sun Jia inhaled deeply, suppressing the impulse.
It was absurd, but when that scent was behind her, it felt like Song Yanrong was hugging her from behind.
She even imagined Song Yanrong’s beautiful, restrained face bending down and… biting.
It must feel amazing.
She was definitely addicted to Song Yanrong’s pheromones.
Sun Jia squinted slightly. If just this was enough to make her feel like dying from desire, how could she survive sharing a bed at night?
They were supposed to eat lunch and dinner in the dining room, but Ying Junmei, not wanting to be angered again, ordered separate meals delivered to their rooms.
Neither Song Yanrong nor Sun Jia had much of an appetite; they ate just a little.
Around 9 p.m.,
Water was running in the en-suite bathroom. Song Yanrong stepped out to the balcony.
After staying in an air-conditioned room for so long, the humid outdoor air actually felt more comfortable. She touched her legs—they were cold.
There should be spare blankets in the room. She would have to make do for the night.
She had never shared a room with another woman before. If she could really stay calm and unaffected tonight, then something must be wrong with her.
But she had to act normal—she didn’t want to scare Sun Jia.
She figured Sun Jia must be nervous too.
Her phone vibrated several times.
Most of the messages, she ignored—especially ones from people she remembered as shady. She deleted them without reading.
Only when she saw a message from Zhao Wen did she open it calmly.
Zhao Wen:
“Your Song family is something else. For the sake of appearances, you’re really willing to throw away your dignity. Someone actually believed the narrative that Song Hanshuang gave up her fiancée to support your love story? That she’s some magnanimous CEO?”
“You and your ‘sister-in-law’ story—true love, elder sister tearfully stepping aside—it’s practically worthy of a year-end drama award.”
“Anyway, my bar reopens tonight. Come have some fun. If you’re still alive, reply.”
“You dead woman—if you don’t respond, I’ll storm your house.”
“Sister Song~ sob sob sob.”
Song Yanrong: “…”
Split personality much?
She was about to type a reply when another voice message came in. She converted it to text:
“I just found out—Zhou Yuan heard about you bringing someone back to the Song house and she’s going wild at the bar. Brought a few model friends too… You going to do something?”
Even after everything the original Song Yanrong had done, she still had lingering romantic entanglements. Impressive.
Song Yanrong didn’t remember much about Zhou Yuan, except for one vivid detail: in the novel, when Song Yanrong died, Zhou Yuan dug up her grave, trying to retrieve her remains.
What happened after that… she hadn’t read.
While Song Yanrong was lost in thought on the balcony, someone upstairs was quietly watching her.
“The old madam really spoils the third miss. This time, you’ve been wronged,” a voice said.
“The old madam’s just thinking of the bigger picture,” Song Hanshuang replied coolly, though her expression remained icy.
She looked out the window and saw Sun Jia step out from her room—wearing a pale blue silk nightdress that shimmered with every step.
She didn’t like Sun Jia’s personality—too weak and docile, almost foolish. But she liked Sun Jia’s face, and her body. Plus, given the old madam’s wishes, she had agreed to marry her.
Who would’ve thought… that despicable Song Yanrong would snatch even her fiancée.
How could she be okay with that?
But it was too late. Sun Jia had already been ruined by Song Yanrong.
Her assistant whispered, “If you really can’t let it go… take her back.”
Song Hanshuang let out a cold laugh. “I should’ve made a move sooner.”
“There’s still a chance.”
She said nothing more but touched her neck—there was still a faint scar from that small knife.
…
“Have some grapes.”
Song Yanrong looked up. Fresh out of the shower and coming from the cold room, Sun Jia still carried a bit of coolness and the scent of bathwater.
Rose and sweetness.
Droplets of water clung to her collarbone, glittering in the light.
Song Yanrong looked from her collarbone up to her eyes. Their gazes met and lingered for a second before they looked away, as if in silent agreement.
She looked down and replied to Zhao Wen’s last message:
“I’ve washed my hands of everything. Keep an eye on her. Don’t let anything happen.”
From her perspective, Zhou Yuan had nothing to do with her. She didn’t want to get involved. But if she interfered in Song Yanrong’s name, it would only complicate things.
Still, in the original’s memories, Zhou Yuan had meant something special. Of all the women who had pursued her, only Zhou Yuan had loved her genuinely—not for her money or status.
Zhou Yuan came from a wealthy family herself, yet she stayed with the original until death.
To abandon her completely would be heartless.
As she finished typing, Song Yanrong noticed from the corner of her eye—Sun Jia was putting a peeled grape into her mouth. Her pink lips parted slightly and took in the plump, purplish fruit.
Song Yanrong’s fingers twitched, pupils darkening under the dim lights.
She grabbed a glass of water.
“It’s getting late… Do you want to shower?” Sun Jia suddenly asked.
Song Yanrong paused, wiped the water from her lips, and nodded. “Yeah, it’s about time.”
“I prepared sleepwear for you. It’s on the bed.”
“I could’ve gotten it myself.”
“It was on the way. If you don’t like it, I can get something else.”
Sun Jia followed her into the room.
The balcony door closed.
Without the cicadas and hot summer wind, the room fell silent.
Song Yanrong looked at the black lace nightgown on the bed… and was speechless.
Soon though, she said, “It’s fine.”
Still, two single women sharing a room… that outfit felt a little too much.
She took the gown into the bathroom. The servants had already prepared a shower chair and thick anti-slip mats. Everything was ready for her.
Warm water flowed down her face. The soap was rose and pear scented—so that explained the sweetness in the floral smell.
Now her whole body smelled like roses too.
She came out in the lace dress—it reached her knees, had a V-neck with lace trim, and a matching robe that barely covered her.
Wheeling out of the bathroom, she saw Sun Jia lounging on the bed with one leg bent, her curves fully exposed.
“Do you want the inside or the outside of the bed?” Sun Jia asked.
Song Yanrong: “…”
For a second, her mental image of Sun Jia as a little white bunny or kitten was replaced by… a fox.
She cleared her throat. “There should be spare blankets in the room. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Sun Jia’s gaze softened, her tone innocent: “There aren’t any.”
Song Yanrong froze.
“I’ll call someone to bring one.”
“There’s still Hanshuang around. What if someone suspects something?” Sun Jia replied gently.
Song Yanrong realized Sun Jia was worried too. Still, even if nothing happened, sharing a bed during heat—her thoughts might not stay pure.
Especially since she knew what Sun Jia was like during her heat…
It was chaos.
Just as she was about to say something, Sun Jia lowered her face and murmured, “Sorry… I might be forcing you.”
Song Yanrong: “…”
God, how was this even forcing?
Seeing her eyes turn red so quickly, Song Yanrong surrendered.
“I’ll take the outside,” she said in a low voice.
There was no need to be so stiff about it. One bed was fine. She figured her legs would stop her from doing anything inappropriate.
The lights went out.
The villa was as quiet as a deep valley—no sound from the city at all.
They lay under the same thin blanket. Song Yanrong calmed her breathing to the minimum—but the rose scent still surrounded her.
She tried not to move. Any motion might break the fragile peace she had barely managed to maintain.
Time passed slowly. Suddenly, the soft rustle of fabric and body shifting came from her side. The warmth under the blanket moved closer.
Sun Jia had turned toward her.
“Are you asleep?”
“Not yet. What’s wrong?”
She heard Sun Jia’s gentle, sweet voice:
“I just remembered—I haven’t massaged your legs today.”