Sang Ling found it strange.
Light Brain in her left hand, she swiped through a webpage with her right—without actually reading anything—and quickly lifted her head.
Sure enough, she caught Lin Jinxu watching her with an unreadable, complicated expression.
Caught looking, the curly-haired woman didn’t dodge at all. She simply smiled openly at her, eyes curving.
The back of Sang Ling’s neck prickled.
She returned a smile of her own and looked back down, continuing to search the Light Brain for suitable neighborhoods and listings. For safety’s sake, they needed to move as soon as possible. As a high-combat-power Alpha who would be living at school once the semester started, she wasn’t afraid of danger herself. She was only afraid of Lin Jinxu and Little Yao running into it again.
One large Omega and one small one—even without running into Zerg, two Omegas without an Alpha looking after them were conspicuous enough in the slums, easy targets for anyone with designs on them.
Though her current funds were nowhere near enough to cover the five million she owed Jiang Yunzhao, Sang Ling still decided to set aside part of the money for the move.
Villains aren’t born wanting to be villains. In the original story, the main reason Lin Jinxu wanted to destroy the world was precisely her tragic experiences. Sang Ling hoped she could live a decent life—and maybe, just maybe, that would keep her from turning dark.
See? Look how nice Lin Jinxu was when she hadn’t been sold to the Underground Casino. She even smiled at her—though the atmosphere was a little awkward.
Sang Ling selectively ignored the prickling at the back of her neck, raised her budget yet again, and started a new round of filtering listings.
An Alpha’s senses were sharp. Even while comparing options, she could feel Lin Jinxu quietly watching her—but Sang Ling said nothing about it.
Lin Jinxu hadn’t turned dark yet. She was still, by the original story’s own verdict, a naive and kindhearted Omega. So she was definitely not scheming against her.
Considering that Sang Ling had transmigrated in only two days ago, and had already completed the enormous transformation from a heartless, good-for-nothing Alpha who sold off her widowed sister-in-law into a breadwinning, life-saving good person—wouldn’t it be perfectly normal for Lin Jinxu, the original owner’s victim, to feel wary and curious about that?
So Sang Ling, good-natured as ever, simply let Lin Jinxu keep staring.
And Lin Jinxu, in a place Sang Ling couldn’t see, narrowed her eyes slightly.
She still couldn’t forget that moment on the rooftop balcony—Sang Ling’s excessive trust, and that fool’s total, unguarded worry for her.
It was too hard to believe. So hard that Lin Jinxu could only conclude it was a performance. Perhaps this world contained Omegas or Betas that pure and kind—but there should be no such thing as an Alpha like that.
Alphas received military training from childhood, trained to face cunning Zerg. Their instructors must have drilled into them, over and over, how cruel the world was—that credulity was the first step to losing your life.
So no matter their personalities, every Alpha in this world should have long since discarded useless emotions like worry and softness, and become a warrior without feeling.
Then what was with Sang Ling’s behavior?
Was she toying with me?
Sang Ling had been the one who first proposed selling Lin Jinxu to the Underground Casino. But she was also the one who, at Lin Jinxu’s most desperate moment, had defied Major Jiang to save her. She was supposed to be a spineless coward—yet she was also the one who had crossed an entire battlefield, covered in wounds, to save her without knowing whether she lived or died.
So this is the Alpha’s new technique? Have Alphas—who have always relied only on power and force—learned psychological warfare now?
What will the future look like?
Lin Jinxu watched Sang Ling on the sofa, head bent over her Light Brain. Her hair slid down along a smooth cheek, framing a clean forehead, a straight nose, and lips pressed slightly thin in concentration over the housing search—lips that looked a little too thin. She looked so quiet. So peaceful.
Will this Alpha change back? After lifting me high, after I let myself believe I’d found safety and happiness—will she bare those ferocious fangs and sell me back to the Underground Casino, savoring the despair of watching me fall from the clouds into hell all over again?
And this time, Lin Jinxu would suffer all the more for having once known happiness.
Lin Jinxu was brimming with questions. The image of that ferocious, cruel Sang Ling and the image of that blood-soaked Sang Ling smiling at her flickered alternately through her mind.
The Omega who always presented herself as patient and gentle was, for once, thoroughly sick of her own thoughts. She dug her nails hard into her palm to force herself awake.
Even if this Alpha is playing a game of the heart, I won’t necessarily lose.
Lin Jinxu allowed herself a faint, faintly arrogant curl of the lips. Games of the heart were an Omega’s exclusive domain. In this world without laws to protect them, Omegas had been practicing psychological maneuvering from birth, using every technique to win others’ protection.
She coldly lowered her eyes and finally stopped trying to plumb Sang Ling’s psychology—telling herself instead: if Sang Ling had simply grown a conscience, so much the better. But if this Alpha wanted to play mind games, then Lin Jinxu would make her lose so thoroughly she’d never recover.
Sang Ling, entirely oblivious to the psychological storm of the great villain sitting an arm’s length away, raised her budget a third time and finally found several apartments she was satisfied with. She lifted her head eagerly and asked Lin Jinxu:
“Which do you want for your bedroom—north-facing or south-facing?”
The question came out of nowhere, cutting clean through the tangle of Lin Jinxu’s thoughts. The Omega took a moment to process it, and even after understanding, she still looked faintly lost.
“What?”
“I asked,” Sang Ling said, patience endless, “do you want your bedroom facing north or south?”
Such a strange question. Lin Jinxu didn’t know how to answer. From childhood, the only thing she had ever controlled was that battered old Doll—in the Orphanage, in her adoptive families, even after marrying Sang Chi, she had never once been given a choice. Which room she slept in, which bed—everything was arranged by others, and all she could do was accept.
The breathtakingly beautiful Omega was, at this moment, actually a little nervous. She restrained herself, but her throat moved as she said, “South-facing.”
“Good.” Sang Ling ticked a new filter option. Then her eyes lit up suddenly at a listing. “Do you want a cat? This one’s great—the rooms aren’t big but there are lots of them, and the previous owner built a whole pet room for her cat. It even comes with a free cat tree!”
Another question she had never once been asked.
Lin Jinxu was caught completely off guard by these alien questions. Even being grilled by her advisor in the university biology lab had never left her this helpless. She was positively dizzy.
And Sang Ling made it worse, gazing at her earnestly, both eyes shining. Lin Jinxu suddenly noticed that the Alpha’s pupils weren’t purely black—they held a faint blue-green undertone, like a deep sea that could drown you.
She spent her last reserves of reason and forced out the sensible answer. “No cat.”
The Alpha who so obviously wanted a cat took the blow like a lightning strike. The light went out of her eyes, her hair drooped, and she looked genuinely unwilling to accept it.
But as an Alpha destined to spend her future living in military academies and army bases, Sang Ling had plenty of self-awareness. She knew perfectly well that if they got a cat, it would be Lin Jinxu doing all the caretaking. She couldn’t force someone else to raise a cat on her behalf.
She only mourned for a moment before pulling herself together and returning to the listings, asking Lin Jinxu’s opinion every so often.
Lin Jinxu watched that thin figure in its white shirt, her nails dug so deep into her palm they nearly drew blood. Even as she dug them in, she silently repeated her principle: Alphas cannot be trusted.
You have things you must do, she told herself. You are not an Omega bred from birth to be an Alpha’s wife. You are one of the rare Omegas who received higher education—a master’s graduate. Every day and night you endured in that biology lab was for one goal.
A goal that will affect every Omega—and every human.
Do not let this Alpha with her unspeakable past derail your mission.
Think. You’ve been away from the Organization’s inner circle for so long, trapped at home by the marriage contract with Sang Chi—how will you regain their trust and return?
Think. How will you get the Orchid Mantis to reveal the next operation?
Think…
The words the Orchid Mantis had left behind suddenly rang through her mind: Enjoy the present, Miss Lin. You’ve acquired a rather rare Alpha.
And her thoughts spiraled beyond her control.
The two of them had no bond between them—only coldness and hatred. And yet, among the twenty-nine flawless impostors the Orchid Mantis had conjured, Sang Ling had chosen her. Without a moment’s hesitation. Clean and decisive.
In that moment, Lin Jinxu had heard her own heart pounding.
The scene of Sang Ling reaching out her hand replayed in her mind again and again, beyond her control—and with every replay, the sound of her heartbeat grew louder, faster.
How did she know? Why did she choose me so decisively?
Question after question, emotion tangled with emotion, knotting into an unsolvable snarl—one that couldn’t be untied, couldn’t be burned away.
What rescued Lin Jinxu from that snarl was one of Sang Ling’s complaints.
The Alpha stared at her Light Brain and slapped her thigh. “Ohhh! This one has a big balcony—we can grow garlic in pots!”
Her face was lit up with delight, brimming with a simple, idiotic joy, carrying none of Lin Jinxu’s thousand worries—happy like a fool who knew nothing at all.
Lin Jinxu let out a long breath, and the emotions from the moment she’d watched Sang Ling collapse in the warehouse came surging back.
It was precisely because Sang Ling was always like this that Lin Jinxu rather hated her.
Sang Ling had spent the whole evening hunting for apartments. She’d shortlisted several, then searched the forums for warnings and discovered the market was nothing but traps—and lost her nerve to rent any of them.
Who understands? Even in the interstellar era, renting still wounds every young person equally.
Sang Ling knew perfectly well she was not the sort of person who could navigate an ocean of listings, teeming with sharks and swindlers, and come out the other side having dodged every trap to snag a bargain. She could only go to sleep in a melancholy mood.
At the time, even her footsteps as she left the living room, hugging her Light Brain, had been heavy.
After a night’s sleep, she was woken the next morning by the aroma of Lin Jinxu’s breakfast.
Wearing only an oversized white T-shirt, her faintly curled hair loose down her back, Sang Ling could barely open her eyes and didn’t look where she was going, drifting into the kitchen like a wandering ghost, starving to the point of being barely alive. “What’s for breakfast?”
Lin Jinxu had long since finished putting herself together. Her hair was coiled at the back of her head, and over a soft gray-white dress with a gentle air she wore a floral apron. She tilted the frying pan, and a strand of hair slipped down from her brow.
“Sweet butter toast and fried eggs. And a glass of milk.”
Amid the kitchen’s rich, milky warmth, she gave Sang Ling a serene smile. “I know one bowl never fills you up, so I fried you four extra slices of toast and two extra eggs.”
Sang Ling nearly wept with gratitude. She was an orphan; she had never known a mother’s companionship growing up. But she suspected that what radiated from Lin Jinxu in this moment might be exactly what people called the glow of maternal love.
She leaned in the kitchen doorway—too tall for the low frame, forced to stoop—and craned her neck to peer inside.
She had offered to help, but the moment she stepped into the small kitchen, Lin Jinxu pronounced her a hindrance, tapping the pan’s edge lightly with her spatula and ordering sternly: “Out. Go wait.”
Sang Ling inhaled a deep draught of the buttery, milky fragrance of melting butter, and sat down at the table brimming with joy.
“Good morning, Little Yao!”
Little Yao had lost track of time watching cartoons the night before and was now slumped over the table, anxiously making up her kindergarten homework, copying out consonants stroke by careful stroke. She had no time at all for this aunt who was happier than any child—and was, if anything, a little jealous of her.
Sang Ling didn’t mind in the slightest. Then she spotted a new message on her Light Brain and got even happier.
She opened her mouth to speak—and only then realized she had never actually settled on a proper way to address Lin Jinxu. “Sister-in-law” felt awkward.
“Sis!” she chirped, switching terms cheerfully. “I found us a place!”
“Oh?” Lin Jinxu set a plate of breakfast in front of her. “Last night you said it was impossible to find.”
“Right! So I got someone to help.” Sang Ling tore off an enormous mouthful of buttered bread.
“The woman who commissioned me to play her favorite virtual character—I already told you about her.”
“She’s a President. The kind with more properties under her name than anyone could count. I asked her to recommend a few high-security neighborhoods.”
“And she went and had her secretary pick out a fantastic apartment for me directly. I can even pay with my Alpha housing subsidy!”
Sang Ling held up her Light Brain, showing Lin Jinxu her chat window with Su Qingyue, who had just sent over the apartment’s description and photos.
But before Lin Jinxu could look, the Light Brain chimed again—Su Qingyue had sent a new message at exactly that moment. Sang Ling tried to pull the device back, but a hand as white as scallion pressed down on it, firmly refusing to let go.
The gorgeous Omega had zero interest in photos of the apartment they were about to move into. Instead, slowly, she read Su Qingyue’s new message aloud.
“Your Excellency Sang Ling, I happen to be visiting that development this afternoon. Shall I pick you up on the way, so you can see the apartment in person? I hear there’s a rather famous ice cream shop nearby.”
Lin Jinxu finished reading, her tone carrying a smile edged with faint trouble. “Last time, you went as a character. That was a commission. A transaction.”
“This time you’re going as yourself. So this would be a perfectly legitimate, aboveboard…”
Her pale white hand came to rest, slowly, on Sang Ling’s shoulder.
“…date?”
