Chapter 29: A Few Shura Fields

The white station inside the Intensive Care Unit wasn’t cramped—but with three people around it, and two of them mutually allergic, it felt distinctly tight.

On Sang Ling’s left sat CEO Su Qingyue; on her right stood Lin Jinxu, her nominal widowed sister-in-law.

Lin Jinxu looked down at Su Qingyue, expressionless. The violet dress made her skin gleam, baring her collarbones and the smooth line of her shoulders, emphasizing her slenderness.

Yet she didn’t look frail in the slightest. She stood straight as bamboo, her presence condensed and sharp.

Her eyes were a cold, fathomless pool, pupils a black too thick to dilute, like an ice cavern with no bottom, pulling everything in.

And though Su Qingyue sat, she ceded not one inch of ground. She leaned back at her ease, coffee cup in hand, a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Even in her casualness, one could glimpse the shadow of CEO Su, that creature accustomed to holding the high ground.

The two faced off, point against point, neither yielding.

Sang Ling, caught between them, felt her nape go numb—half of her in flames, half in ice. Utter torment.

In theory, she had nothing to be nervous about.

Her reason told her: Su Qingyue and Lin Jinxu had never met, had no stake in each other. She need only introduce them, and perhaps they’d get along fine.

But her instinct told her that if she truly believed that, she was the biggest fool under heaven.

A good Alpha’s instincts could save her sorry hide.

Sang Ling chose to follow instinct: faced with the option of introducing the two, she chose silence and self-preservation.

Sure enough, the very next second, Su Qingyue went on the offensive.

“An Omega? And this beautiful—I can roughly guess who you are.”

“You’re the Omega at Sang Ling’s home, aren’t you? If I remember correctly, you’re her sister-in-law—married to her older sister, Sang Chi?”

Su Qingyue was the picture of composure. “Someone as beautiful as you—Sang Ling’s sister must adore you. Yours must be a very happy marriage.”

At this, Lin Jinxu turned merciless, and said simply: “Sang Chi is dead.”

On the desk, the light brain vibrated once. Neither of the other two noticed.

Su Qingyue said, “She hasn’t been gone long, I take it. You must not have moved on yet.”

Lin Jinxu smiled faintly. “The dead cannot come back. The living must look forward.”

The light brain vibrated again, drawing a puzzled glance from Sang Ling.

“How admirable, that mindset. Someone as positive as you—Sang Chi must have been so comforted to see it, wherever she is. I hear you were once deeply in love. She’d surely want you to be happy.”

The light brain was vibrating like a thing possessed. Sang Ling’s hand shot out and she held down the power button until it went silent.

This light brain has no sense of timing whatsoever. A Beta and an Omega are mid-duel, blades flashing, and it chooses this moment to act up. Does it want to die?

Su Qingyue’s face was full of the smile of imminent victory. “No need to rush. No one’s forcing you to move on before you’re ready. You know what they say—all the psychologists recommend giving yourself time to mourn after a trauma. Don’t suppress your grief, don’t suppress your longing for Sang Chi.”

“Wouldn’t you agree… sister-in-law?” Su Qingyue pronounced the two words slowly, deliberately, a reminder aimed at both Lin Jinxu and Sang Ling.

She wanted Sang Ling to know: this Omega had belonged to her dead sister.

Lin Jinxu said, “Little Ling doesn’t call me sister-in-law anymore—she calls me Older Sister. So you needn’t call me sister-in-law either. Especially since you’re a few years older than I am.”

Su Qingyue affected sudden understanding. “Oh, of course. I’d nearly forgotten—you’re four years my junior. Twenty-four, at an age as lovely as a flower. I imagine plenty of Alphas covet you.”

Su Qingyue played the soul of consideration, a friend to all Omegas. “These days, certain Alphas see that a mate’s Alpha has died and start getting ideas, hoping to make a move on you.”

“But they surely don’t know your heart still cherishes the past, do they? How could you be the fickle kind of Omega who transfers her affections so quickly?”

That bitch!

Lin Jinxu’s fingers tightened slightly. Nothing showed on her face—she remained the picture of an elegant, gracious smile—but deep inside she seethed. A delusional Beta.

Yet though she looked soft and gentle on the surface, she was not the sort to retreat and wallow after a few barbs.

Her lips curved into a smile. She set the bag she carried onto the station’s desk, no longer taut as bamboo in the wind, and took a half-step forward, her posture open and relaxed.

“Come to think of it, our little sister once asked me for advice on how to be friends with you.”

“This child’s emotional intelligence isn’t high, so she follows my instructions to the letter. If she’s caused you any displeasure, don’t blame her—blame me.”

Lin Jinxu was referring to the day they’d viewed the apartment, when Sang Ling had come to her asking for advice on making friends.

Su Qingyue ground her back teeth, secretly livid—and grew only more irritated when she saw Sang Ling’s expression.

Because a look named anxiety had appeared on that silly dog’s face, and Su Qingyue knew at a glance exactly what she was thinking.

Sang Ling was surely thinking: How could anyone blame Lin Jinxu for this? It was my behavior. How could I let Lin Jinxu take the blame?

Su Qingyue was speechless. Sometimes she loved this side of Sang Ling—and sometimes she desperately wished Sang Ling would reserve the naive-sweetheart act for her alone, and grow some eyes and a brain for everyone else.

Especially for an Omega whose mind was as full of holes as a fishing net. Sang Ling could be sold by Lin Jinxu and still help her count the money.

Su Qingyue’s face remained the soul of tranquility, as if none of it touched her. She told herself: it’s fine. This is just Lin Jinxu’s futile little attempt to stake her claim.

But that wasn’t Lin Jinxu’s only move.

“Come to think of it…”

The Omega’s voice was very soft, exquisitely fine—a voice that would have shamed professional broadcasters—and she spoke as if hesitating. “I saw online that every Su Family Head in history has had to marry before the age of thirty. That’s your family rule, isn’t it?”

Su Qingyue has to marry before thirty?

Sang Ling’s eyes widened slightly. She was hearing this for the first time.

Su Qingyue clearly hadn’t expected Lin Jinxu to raise this. The smile at the corner of her mouth stiffened.

Lin Jinxu, as if oblivious to both their reactions, remained gracious and composed. “You’re twenty-eight already this year. Thirty isn’t far. Allow me to wish you joy in advance.”

“But one ought to cultivate feelings with one’s partner before marriage, surely. By my count, you should already have met your future spouse by now.”

“She must be very beautiful.”

Sang Ling’s brow creased faintly. She and Su Qingyue were playing their romantic little games with mutual consent—Su Qingyue was paying, after all.

But if Su Qingyue already had a girlfriend, then what the two of them were doing now became deeply immoral.

Fortunately Su Qingyue needed only one glance at Sang Ling to know what she was thinking, and denied it at once. “No. I’m currently single.”

Lin Jinxu said, “Then you’d best hurry.”

“You’re a Beta, I take it, so your future spouse will be a Beta as well. Our Little Ling is an Alpha—she’ll only ever end up with an Omega.”

“I’d sincerely love for the two of you to be good friends, but she hasn’t come into her own yet, and if you spend too long around our Little Ling, it may interfere with your search for a Beta partner of your own.”

Lin Jinxu rested a hand lightly on one of Sang Ling’s shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Little Ling? You mustn’t get in the way of Miss Su finding her future partner.”

Even a fool like Sang Ling knew better than to agree with Lin Jinxu at a moment like this—but fortunately, before she could open her mouth, Su Qingyue shot to her feet.

The Beta no longer had any of her earlier composure. Her body was rigid, her face frost itself, and she left behind only one sentence.

“I’m leaving.”

Then she swept out, footsteps hurried.

Lin Jinxu watched the vanquished figure disappear around the corner with something like appreciation, then turned back to face Sang Ling.

There was no triumph in her—only a serene quietness, as if nothing at all had happened. “I brought you a lunch box.”

Only then did Sang Ling remember it was nearly lunchtime.

Lin Jinxu laid out the contents of the box one dish at a time. Everything was beautiful to eye and nose alike, a colorful spread covering half the desk—clearly prepared with great care.

Sang Ling watched her lowered lashes, her focused movements, and said suddenly, “You won.”

She raised a thumb and looked at Lin Jinxu with genuine admiration. “Making Su Qingyue flee the field—you’re formidable. Even I couldn’t manage it.”

Lin Jinxu smiled faintly, went to fetch a chair from elsewhere to replace the one Su Qingyue had vacated, and only then sat down in the very spot Su Qingyue had occupied.

“Try it. See if it suits your taste.”

Sang Ling took her first bite of the refreshing cold cucumber salad and discovered it had been chilled—bright and hot-and-sour, with an undercurrent of coolness, and paired with rice it was something else entirely.

Lin Jinxu’s cooking kept getting better.

Sang Ling thought, sincerely: if Lin Jinxu’s cooking had once been merely good home cooking, today’s cucumber salad had the quality of a restaurant’s cold dishes—willingness to pour extra care into every increment of flavor, beyond what simple home dishes required.

Lin Jinxu’s talent for cooking must be exceptional. Her earlier poverty had been the only thing limiting her craft to home-cooking level.

And of course Sang Ling knew Lin Jinxu must have put her whole heart into this lunch box—because she wanted to put her whole heart into her.

She took a bite of cucumber salad, a bite of rice, and her chopsticks hovered above a small dish of greens stir-fried with luncheon meat.

She didn’t lower them. Lin Jinxu’s brow creased slightly. “Is something wrong?”

If anything was off, she could go back and improve it.

Sang Ling smiled. “Nothing. It’s great.”

But her chopsticks still didn’t move. Instead she said, remembering, “Do you remember? The day the underground casino’s thugs came to our home, this is exactly what you made—greens with luncheon meat. The only dish.”

The day Sang Ling had first transmigrated into this body.

Lin Jinxu laughed softly. “Right. We were so poor back then.”

“But now, this dish is just one unremarkable plate among a whole table.”

Sang Ling circled her chopsticks over the desk. “From that day on, I told myself I would work to make our lives better.”

Lin Jinxu’s movement paused. She couldn’t read where this conversation was going.

Was Sang Ling about to boast of her contributions to the household, like any ordinary Alpha?

Lin Jinxu had never once imagined Sang Ling saying such a thing—but on reflection it seemed reasonable. Sang Ling had done a great deal, and wanting recognition after doing the work was only natural.

How to face an Alpha’s self-congratulation was required study for every Omega. Like a true understanding flower, one offered praise at the right moments, offered admiration, made the Alpha feel good about herself.

Whether that praise was sincere or not was beside the point. It was one of an Omega’s duties.

Lin Jinxu had already prepared herself, planning to spend the rest of the meal lavishing thanks on Sang Ling and celebrating her exceptional capabilities.

But Sang Ling’s next words left her with no idea how to respond.

The Alpha lowered her head and looked straight into Lin Jinxu’s eyes.

“What is it I haven’t done yet?”

“Is it because there are things I haven’t managed, places I haven’t reached, that you have to go and handle things yourself?”

I thought that if I kept you out of the underground casino’s clutches, raised your standard of living, became a friend you could actually talk to, showed you my support—that would be enough. That you’d never become that world-ending villain, walking her fated road of self-destruction.

So why did you come to the hospital that day? Why did you stand outside Li Zhi’s bed? Why did you change your clothes?

Sang Ling felt as if she’d been raising an iris—watering it daily, feeding it, moving it into better sunlight—and then one day discovered that in a corner she’d never watched, the iris had fallen ill all the same.

She didn’t believe Lin Jinxu had fully set foot on her past life’s villain’s path. The great villain of the original story had needed many plot arcs to accumulate her power, and Sang Ling was certain Lin Jinxu’s current circumstances couldn’t yet support that. When the incident of soldiers betraying humanity and secretly releasing Zerg began, Lin Jinxu had still been so weak she’d nearly been sold to the underground casino.

And there was no proof Lin Jinxu had come that day to kill Li Zhi.

She only feared that Lin Jinxu might already be standing at the edge of something dangerous.

“Sister.”

The Alpha tried to convey her heart through the most sincere eyes she possessed. “Tell me whatever you need from me, and I’ll do it. Whatever it is.”

Lin Jinxu’s hands began to tremble violently. She said nothing at all, yet seemed to plunge into terrible unrest.

In that moment she felt a fierce impulse to confess everything.

Hadn’t Sang Ling said it herself? She would do anything Lin Jinxu needed her to do.

Sang Ling had dug her own grave.

Give me a Marking. Solve my Heat Period problem.

Keep the one who’ll leave at a distance. Tolerate my selfishness. Be my plaything, mine alone.

Stand with me. Come with me to do the most dangerous, most deranged things in this world.

…

The Alpha seemed about to say more when the slender Omega suddenly collapsed against her.

Light as a real flower, she wrapped her arms around Sang Ling, her head coming to rest on Sang Ling’s shoulder.

“You’ve already done so well. You’ve already done more than enough.”

“Thank you. But don’t worry about me anymore.”

She said it softly.

Sang Ling felt a trace of wetness on her shoulder.

The Alpha froze.

Lin Jinxu… is crying?

Sang Ling hesitantly raised a hand, with no idea where to put it, and finally just patted Lin Jinxu’s back—clumsily, gently.