Chapter 14: Lin Jinxu

“Ding—!”

Sang Ling was woken by the Light Brain’s notification chime. She opened her eyes to find sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains onto her pillow. It was already the next morning.

She looked around and discovered she was lying in her own bedroom, a white, capsule-shaped Medical Pod sitting a short distance away, the words “Su Medical” printed on its casing. The white uniform she’d worn for yesterday’s commission had been washed clean, folded neatly, and set on the table, with the Light Energy Gun resting on top of it.

She flexed her muscles and took a few deep breaths. To her surprise, aside from some hunger and faint muscle soreness, she felt nothing wrong at all. Clearly, yesterday’s broken bones had all been set, and the internal bleeding had stopped.

Whether that was the miraculous self-healing power of an Alpha or the technological force of the Medical Pod, Sang Ling couldn’t say.

She pushed back the covers—and only then noticed she was wearing pajamas, the fabric carrying the fresh scent of laundry detergent.

Who changed my clothes? Lin Jinxu?

Musing to herself, she picked up the Light Brain to see who had messaged her.

Little Cyan Bunny: “Your Excellency, thank you for saving my life yesterday at the risk of your own. I heard you were gravely injured and fell unconscious, so I have sent a medical pod home with your sister-in-law. Wishing you a swift recovery.”

Below it was another message: “I remain very worried about your condition. Once you have recovered and find yourself with a free moment, might I contact you? I would like to treat Your Excellency to a simple meal.”

Sang Ling backed out of the message screen and found a notification from the online bank as well.

“Your account has received a transfer of 500,000 star coins from Little Cyan Bunny, with the note: commission fee.”

As expected of a CEO who dominates the business world, Sang Ling thought. The books are impeccably clear—and impeccably graceful.

Yesterday, Su Qingyue had in fact already sent her a transfer of two million as repayment for saving her life. But a life debt was a life debt, and a commission fee was a commission fee; the two could not be conflated.

So Su Qingyue had insisted on paying the commission fee as well.

Sang Ling accepted it without the slightest psychological burden—especially once she knew just how wealthy this client was.

She closed the Light Brain and rolled out of bed. She was starving. Time to find food.

The house was empty and silent; no one seemed to be home. Sang Ling glanced at the time: eight thirty in the morning.

Did Lin Jinxu take Little Yao to school? The Zerg attack was only yesterday—school’s already back in session?

She drifted aimlessly into the kitchen and opened the fridge, planning to scrounge together a meal for herself—only to find several plates of food wrapped in plastic film, and a bowl of congee. On one of the plates, someone had stuck a sticky note:

“Microwave on medium for three minutes.”

It was signed with a small smiley face.

Did Lin Jinxu make this? How thoughtful.

Sang Ling heated everything through, arranged it on the dining table, and found one large bowl of congee and four small plates of nutritious, healthy side dishes.

Lin Jinxu understood an Alpha’s appetite very well. Sang Ling did indeed sweep every last bit of it clean before she finally felt full.

She burped, washed the dishes, and set them back in the kitchen.

Back in the living room, Sang Ling didn’t bother changing—she started in on some simple warm-up movements first.

After yesterday’s Zerg attack, she understood with perfect clarity: as an Alpha with mandatory military service obligations, the only road ahead of her was to enlist and kill Zerg.

Time to put physical training on the schedule. And that exoskeleton Jiang Yunzhao had used—it had looked incredibly impressive. It was probably standard issue for human soldiers in the current Zerg war. She needed to start learning to master an exoskeleton too.

Come to think of it, an Alpha’s military salary probably wasn’t low either. If she wanted to live in the interstellar era—and support a family—she’d have to take this job seriously.

As for side gigs like cosplay commissions, those were nothing more than a stopgap. Once she’d paid back what she owed Jiang Yunzhao, she could quit.

Finished warming up, she looked around and realized this house had nothing suitable for training. After weighing her options, she settled on a hanging chandelier and started jumping to touch it, training her lower-body explosive power.

The jingle of keys colliding, the scrape of a key entering the lock and turning—and before Sang Ling could even react, Lin Jinxu pushed the door open and came home.

Lin Jinxu was unexpectedly, strikingly beautiful today. She usually kept a low profile; her face already possessed a beauty that couldn’t be concealed, so her style of dress leaned as simple as possible.

But today she wore a deep purple dress that made her skin look all the fairer, her hair loosely pinned up, a simple opal necklace at her pale white throat—like an iris blooming in stillness.

She was standing in the doorway just in time to catch Sang Ling leaping violently upward, right hand outstretched.

She didn’t miss the surprise in Sang Ling’s eyes, nor the flash of admiration—but she saw something else that mattered far more.

The Alpha’s long, well-defined fingers brushed through the chandelier’s translucent glass fringe, setting off a tinkling like wind chimes.

The hem of her pajamas wasn’t long enough; as she reached, it rode up at one corner, revealing abdominal muscles carved with sculptural definition.

Sang Ling’s skin was nearly pallid, and of course her abs were too. In that instant, Lin Jinxu’s mind flashed unbidden to everything she had seen last night while changing the Alpha’s clothes.

A flash of pale muscle—then gone. Sang Ling landed steadily and walked toward Lin Jinxu.

Fresh from her warm-up, plus the naturally elevated body temperature unique to Alphas, she carried a faint rising heat with her—yet it wasn’t unpleasant. It was like a crisp, cool scent of mint.

Lin Jinxu’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“Ah—” Sang Ling noticed something wrong and touched the back of her neck. “My suppressant patch came loose.”

She pressed it back into place. “Did you just take Little Yao to school?”

“Mm.” Lin Jinxu answered. After a moment, she brought it up deliberately. “Little sister, about yesterday—your clothes…”

There was still a distinction between Omega and Alpha, after all. Lin Jinxu stopped halfway, swallowing the unspoken implication, a barely perceptible flush rising in her cheeks—a shyness that could break a person’s heart.

For a moment the air hung still, and faintly ambiguous.

“So you were the one who changed my clothes.” Sang Ling, sensing absolutely nothing, laughed brightly and clapped Lin Jinxu on the shoulder. “Thanks a bunch!”

?

Thanking me?

What is with this good-buddy tone?

You’ve completely ruined the mood!

The ambiguous misunderstanding had been deliberately staged by Lin Jinxu herself—and she didn’t even feel any real shame about the matter. But seeing Sang Ling react with this we’re-all-good-sisters energy, Lin Jinxu still couldn’t stop herself from getting angry.

What breed of blockhead is this?

Hopelessly dense! Not one of the classic Omega techniques for manufacturing ambiguity and winning tenderness had any effect.

Her face went expressionless, and she turned cold. “I’m going to do the housework.”

Sang Ling noticed the distance not at all and just smiled. “Thanks for the trouble.”

Sang Ling returned to her room, picked up the Light Brain, and let out a long breath as she flopped onto the bed.

Now that her future direction was settled—enlist, fight Zerg—and Su Qingyue had transferred her nearly three million star coins, easing the debt pressure, the problems facing her had shrunk dramatically all at once.

Considering she had come within a hair’s breadth of death yesterday, Sang Ling decided she was permitted to relax for a while and roam the StarNet freely.

The entertainment industry of the interstellar age was highly advanced, and Sang Ling quickly found several recently blockbuster films. She subscribed to a video site and settled in happily.

Light Brains could already project naked-eye 3D, and the viewing experience was superb.

Her only complaint was the absence of a bucket of popcorn at hand.

These high-grossing films were all romance movies—essentially all telling the epic love stories between Alphas and Omegas.

Though Sang Ling thought the whole “AO is true love” premise was nonsense, the production quality of these films was genuinely superb, the plots full of twists, the romances lingering and tender.

She watched happily all morning, had lunch with Lin Jinxu, washed the dishes unprompted, then went back to her room and kept watching.

By the time she finally finished, the sky was nearly dark—and it was a message that interrupted her cinematic journey.

【Jiang Yunzhao】: “I’ve applied to have you assigned to my Task Force as a Reservist. Report Monday for training, on time. Don’t be late.”

At the same moment, Sang Ling received an official notification email from Military Headquarters, congratulating her on formally becoming a Task Force Reservist.

The Task Force’s missions were heavy, but its prospects were excellent. For an Alpha of ordinary family background, bottom-of-the-class grades, and only C-rank Mental Power to become a Task Force Reservist in her second year of university—that genuinely deserved congratulations.

Still, Sang Ling spent a while nursing a headache over Jiang Yunzhao’s insufferable habit of making decisions on other people’s behalf.

She smiled bitterly. Just imagining working under that Eldest Miss in the future filled her with an extraordinary sense of despair.

Tonight, the wind on the rooftop was strong. It lifted the bedsheets Lin Jinxu had just hung to dry, and lifted the hem of her deep purple skirt too.

The multi-layered skirt fluttered up and down, wings spread like a butterfly about to fly.

The wind passed. The billowing sheet fell—and a figure appeared on the rooftop, impossibly thin.

A waist terrifyingly narrow swayed as its owner glided gracefully to Lin Jinxu’s side.

“Miss Lin, indulging your Alpha while she beats me—that’s not a very virtuous trait, you know.”

The Orchid Mantis, having retreated from the warehouse just yesterday, complained like a spoiled child. “It hurt so much.”

Lin Jinxu didn’t acknowledge her, and had no intention of explaining that Sang Ling wasn’t her Alpha.

The Omega’s face was cold as ice. “Did you get it?”

“Of course.” The Orchid Mantis smiled. “Four. All top-grade.”

“What does Teacher want to do next?”

“No need to rush, Miss Lin.” The Orchid Mantis smiled. “After so long without contact, you’ve only just reconnected with us, and already you want to know our next move?”

“Miss Lin, you humans aren’t like insects. You betray. You’ll have to make us trust you.”

Lin Jinxu was silent a moment. “What does Teacher want me to do…”

The Orchid Mantis abruptly turned toward the door at the rooftop entrance. “Someone’s coming.”

The next second, light, quick footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Oh my, time for me to go.” The Orchid Mantis vaulted over the rooftop railing and dropped out of sight, leaving only a single sentence ringing in Lin Jinxu’s ears.

“Enjoy the present while it lasts, Miss Lin. You’ve acquired a rather rare Alpha.”

The next second, Sang Ling pushed open the balcony door. “I need to talk to you—about Monday…”

She suddenly frowned, walked to Lin Jinxu’s side, bent down, and picked up a shard of broken insect wing from beside her foot.

Lin Jinxu’s heart lurched. That damned Orchid Mantis—take one little injury and she sheds her wing fragments everywhere.

Sang Ling stared at Lin Jinxu, expressionless, and Lin Jinxu’s heart hung suspended high.

Ten-odd seconds passed like this. Then the Alpha suddenly said, “Did you see anything strange just now, coming up?”

Lin Jinxu shook her head quickly. “No.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she watched Sang Ling’s face intently, rehearsing what to do if the Alpha saw through her lie—how the Alpha might rage, and how she would escape.

“That’s a fragment left by yesterday’s High-Tier Zerg.”

Lin Jinxu’s breath stopped entirely.

Sang Ling said gravely, “It may have marked us. It’s best you didn’t run into it—far too dangerous. We need to move somewhere safer, and fast.”

The suspended heart settled. Lin Jinxu let out a long, long breath.

Sang Ling had believed her. Completely.