Chapter 3: Jiang Yunzhao

Her forehead was dry and warm, the towel steaming gently.

Sang Ling almost believed she hadn’t transmigrated at all and was still in her own bed. She sat up comfortably, opened her eyes—and the ceiling above was low and filthy, flecked with a few drops of splattered, dark-red blood.

Only then did it sink in: she had transmigrated.

But she was alive. The knife-wielding great villain hadn’t killed her?

The towel slid from her forehead. Sang Ling picked up the warm roll of cloth, touched her forehead with her other hand—medicine had been applied to the wound, and a medical dressing placed over it.

Lin Jinxu had done all this?

She was taking care of her.

Truly worthy of the pre-darkening great villain—kind-hearted, caring, willing to treat even the original host with her record of misdeeds.

If it were the post-darkening great villain, Sang Ling would already be strapped to an operating table as her experimental subject.

Sang Ling pushed back the covers, climbing out of bed with a sigh of feeling. Villains aren’t born villains; a villain was once a gentle, kind young wife too.

She pushed open the creaking old wooden door, and the aroma of food washed over her.

Lin Jinxu had changed into a pristine white housedress and was bending over the table setting out bowls and chopsticks. She must have just bathed; her half-dry long curls spilled loose, one lock of hair resting lightly against her cheek.

The warm yellow light laid a halo over her hair.

Everything was so warm, so lovely, like something out of a dream.

Hearing the door, Lin Jinxu looked up at Sang Ling and gave a gracious, demure smile, saying gently, “You’re awake? Come eat something.”

So friendly. So considerate. So wifely.

She had a Yamato Nadeshiko sort of charm, like a quietly blooming cherry blossom—mysterious, graceful, making one want to step closer and see more.

Sang Ling’s right hand tightened on the door handle. She abruptly stepped back and slammed the door shut with a bang, locking herself back in the bedroom.

Danger. Danger. Danger!

Sang Ling’s intuition had always been uncannily sharp; when danger came, she could dodge by instinct alone. That ability had saved her from many falling objects and a couple of car accidents.

Just now, facing the seemingly harmless, gentle Lin Jinxu, the radar in her head had shrieked warnings, goosebumps rising all over, every hair on end.

She steadied her breathing and tried to reason with herself: Lin Jinxu absolutely could not be dangerous. The woman had even treated her wound.

But before Sang Ling lost consciousness, Lin Jinxu had still been holding that knife, pointing it at her like a madwoman. Why was she suddenly so friendly now, caring for her like a normal, kind sister-in-law?

Was this normal?

A lingering dread coiled in her chest. Sang Ling waited two full minutes before opening the door again.

Lin Jinxu was as gentle as ever, fetching a cup of warm water from the kitchen and setting it on the table.

The white, soft all-cotton housedress was cheap, yet on her it carried the texture of aristocratic hand-tailored couture.

She was very thin; the joints of her wrists showed clearly beneath the sleeves, slender enough to encircle with one hand easily.

Someone like this—how could Sang Ling have thought her dangerous?

Sang Ling approached the table, heart settling. On it was a simple bowl of rice and a small plate of greens stir-fried with luncheon meat.

The portions were small, just barely enough for one person—so she naturally assumed it had been set aside for her alone.

She picked up a bite with her chopsticks, and her eyes suddenly lit up. It was a very simple dish, but Lin Jinxu’s skill was excellent—homemade, yet delicious.

Maybe her intuition really had misfired. Lin Jinxu hadn’t yet lived through those painful things, so she shouldn’t darken. She was still just a gentle, frail Omega.

Thinking this, Sang Ling asked casually, “Have you and Little Yao eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

Lin Jinxu said softly.

Sang Ling’s hand paused. She’d assumed the mother and daughter must have eaten already.

“Why haven’t you eaten?”

Lin Jinxu’s voice grew softer still, nearly a breath of air. “There’s nothing else in the house.”

After Sang Chi died, the household lost its source of income, and the original host had gambled away every last bit of Sang Chi’s death benefits.

Sang Ling set down her chopsticks and sighed silently. How had she forgotten that? She was now so poor she was one step from sleeping on the street—and Lin Jinxu, robbed of every coin by the original host’s gambling, naturally had no money either.

“Then what about Little Yao?”

No resentment showed on Lin Jinxu’s face at all. Unadorned, she said evenly, “I dug out one basic-grade Nutrient Solution. We’ll split it in a bit.”

In the interstellar era, fresh vegetables cost far more than Nutrient Solution—especially the cheap basic grade, which did no more than keep a person from starving.

Lin Jinxu had given Sang Ling the last scraps of food in the house, keeping only a single Nutrient Solution to split with a child.

Sang Ling paused for two seconds, then said, “Where’s the Nutrient Solution?”

Lin Jinxu beckoned, and Little Yao came running over cradling the Nutrient Solution in both hands, stumbling, hiding behind Lin Jinxu, peeking out timidly from behind her calves. She was still afraid of Sang Ling.

Sang Ling truly didn’t want to sigh anymore. In just half a day since transmigrating, she had sighed far too many times; she was numb to it.

Facing the child, Sang Ling softened her voice. “Little Yao, hand the Nutrient Solution to Auntie, okay?”

Little Yao’s mouth puckered and she hugged the milky-white reagent tighter. Her eyes were big and round, like black grapes, and quickly welled with glistening tears. “Mommy hasn’t eaten in so long. If you take it, we’ll have nothing to eat.”

Lin Jinxu seemed to think Sang Ling meant to take it as well. She hesitated a moment, then spoke up in Little Yao’s defense, “Family Head, may we keep half a vial for Little Yao? You can have my half.”

The hand Sang Ling had extended toward Little Yao froze in midair. She had been bending down to take the Nutrient Solution; now she looked up blankly, her sharp, narrow eyes going wide, an unaccustomed bewilderment in them.

She hesitated. “What did you just call me?”

Lin Jinxu tilted her head slightly, her voluminous fluffy hair swaying gently with the motion. As if she didn’t understand Sang Ling’s surprise, she repeated, “Family Head?”

Sang Ling swallowed hard, and only then remembered: in this ABO world where Alphas were honored and Omegas debased, Omegas were required to address the Alpha who headed their household as “Family Head.”

But it was far too strange. Sang Ling wasn’t used to anyone calling her that; it made her whole body uncomfortable.

“No need to call me that,” she said quickly, color rising in her cheeks from sheer nerves. Using an Alpha’s superhuman reflexes, she plucked the vial of Nutrient Solution straight from Little Yao’s hands and rose to her feet in one motion.

She fled, leaving only a sentence behind: “I’ll drink the Nutrient Solution. You two eat the food.”

Of course she wasn’t stealing a child’s Nutrient Solution—she only wanted to trade, to drink the cheap basic-grade solution herself.

She scurried all the way to her bedroom door, gripped the old door handle, hesitated a moment, then turned back.

Lin Jinxu and Little Yao were still stunned by her behavior. Little Yao’s eyes were round; her face was streaked with tears, but she had already split into a wide grin at this sudden windfall.

Facing these two frail Omegas—her brand-new, unfamiliar family—Sang Ling’s face was utterly earnest. She met Lin Jinxu’s eyes. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll find a way to make money. We’re never living like this again.”

She enunciated each word, giving her promise. “I swear it.”

Sang Ling turned and went into her room.

Though happy, Little Yao was also worried. She tugged Lin Jinxu’s sleeve and looked up at her. “Can we really eat?”

Lin Jinxu scooped her up, sat her on the raised chair, fetched two more sets of clean bowls and chopsticks, and divided the food into two portions.

Little Yao grew only more anxious. “Auntie, can we really eat? What if she’s lying to us and gets angry later?”

Lin Jinxu’s hands paused for one second, then resumed. Her expression was mild; only her pitch-black eyes flickered with a light Little Yao couldn’t read. She seemed to have anticipated Sang Ling’s behavior all along, and answered Little Yao, “Don’t worry.”

Having divided the food, she sat down and raised her chopsticks.

“Also—what should you call me in front of other people?”

Little Yao answered obediently, “Mommy.”

“Mm. Let’s eat.”

Bedroom.

Sang Ling shut the door, bit the Nutrient Solution vial open, and powered on the original host’s Light Brain.

A flash of white pupil-recognition light, and the Light Brain lit up, a line of large text surfacing automatically on the screen.

“Citizen Sang Ling, welcome back.”

She opened the original host’s contacts. A contact named “Jiang Yunzhao” sat quietly at the very top of the list.

So this Jiang Yunzhao was the original host’s creditor—the Eldest Miss Jiang of the family that owned the underground casino, currently interning at Military Headquarters.

She backed out of the contacts and opened an app called “Myriad Phenomena.” Myriad Phenomena was the largest and most widely used software of the interstellar era, a hub of every kind of entry point: microblogs, forums, games, even shopping.

One could say Myriad Phenomena was practically the entire internet of the interstellar age.

Sang Ling tapped with clear purpose into the job-listings board. Her goal: find work, make money.

Thinking of this, she tapped her index finger lightly on the Light Brain.

Having taken over the original host’s identity, and having already become entangled with the two Omegas outside, she had no intention of running from it. At the very least, she had to shoulder the responsibility of providing for the family first. She couldn’t just watch Lin Jinxu and Little Yao go hungry and do nothing.

Ideally the first job would pay daily or weekly, because this household currently couldn’t afford to eat.

“Five-star hotel attendant……”

She was reading one of the listings, about to tap in, when the Light Brain abruptly went black.

The next second, an urgent ringtone blared, and the name Jiang Yunzhao lit up on the screen like a death warrant.

Well, well. The creditor calling. The Eldest Miss Jiang had probably already heard she wasn’t selling anyone, then.

She’s not going to blow up at me on the spot, is she?

Sang Ling hesitated a long while but finally answered. Maybe this Miss Jiang was a reasonable, soft-hearted person.

She spoke first: “Hello?”

BOOM—!

No one answered. The first thing that came through was an enormous roar, followed by the crackle-clatter of things falling.

The person on the other end seemed to be sprinting at full speed; there was nothing but ragged panting and footsteps.

BOOM—!

Another massive detonation. This time Sang Ling heard it clearly—that was absolutely an explosion.

She asked, astonished and doubtful, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

The footsteps cut off abruptly, then sped up even faster. After a leap and the sound of feet landing, the other party had apparently reached some kind of cover and finally had a moment to reply.

“Sang Ling?” A sharp voice came through. “You’re disgusting.”

Sang Ling, who had offered concern and been attacked for it: ?

She said blankly, “Huh?”

Jiang Yunzhao scoffed. “Use that Omega-and-Beta tone to ‘care’ about me one more time, and I promise that when term starts, you’ll die spectacularly.”

As her voice fell, another enormous explosion sounded; dirt shaken loose inside the bunker rained down onto Jiang Yunzhao.

Sang Ling finally couldn’t help asking, “Are you seriously calling me from a battlefield right now?”

“Then what? You think everyone’s as useless as you, hiding from the battlefield?”

Jiang Yunzhao switched on video, and the first thing Sang Ling saw was the many scrapes on her face, dust smeared over them—but her eyes blazed like suns, unnaturally bright.

Jiang Yunzhao did seem to be injured. Frowning, she fished out a bottle of fast-acting wound spray and shook it hard before spraying it at the wound on her thigh, deep enough to show bone.

The wound had bled heavily, nearly soaking through the entire trouser leg. Fast-acting medicine worked fast, but the pain it brought was doubled. Jiang Yunzhao sat on the ground, forcing down two physiological groans at the searing pain, her forehead soaked with cold sweat—yet her brows never once knitted.

Sang Ling winced in sympathy, feeling the pain almost firsthand. “You’re in this state and you’re still taking debt-collection calls from a battlefield?”

“Did you think I’d clear special time out of my schedule just for you?” As she spoke, Jiang Yunzhao pulled a micro-bomb from her coat, leaned out of cover, spat a curse, lobbed the bomb out, and ducked back to the Light Brain.

She steadied her breathing. “The casino people already told me. You’re not selling anyone, and you plan to repay the five million you owe me before term starts, on your own strength.”

Jiang Yunzhao’s face split into an Eldest Miss’s signature, razor-edged sneer. “You bottom-feeders really do have quite the imagination.”

“Go read some books. A C-rank Mental Power Alpha who’s dead last in the Military Academy isn’t even qualified to tutor children—and you’re dreaming of earning five million in two months?”

Her mouth ran like a machine gun, mocking Sang Ling without pause.

Just as Sang Ling was about to lose her temper, Jiang Yunzhao finally finished and said, “Though I’ll admit, you look far more tolerable this way than that spineless wet rag you used to be.”

Sang Ling ventured, “Uh… thanks?”

“Five million means nothing to me. It’s the price of a single car.”

Sang Ling: Ouch.

Jiang Yunzhao concluded, “If you really can pull it off, then maybe I’ll think somewhat of you and take you on as my lackey next semester.”

And with that she hung up, chin high with arrogance. In the last moment before the screen went dark, Sang Ling saw her pick up her Light Energy Gun again and prepare to charge out of cover.

No, no—stop treating “becoming my lackey” as a reward……

Sang Ling thought silently.

She reopened the Myriad Phenomena job board and sent a message to the poster of the five-star hotel attendant listing.

“Hello, I’d like to apply.”

The reply came fast, and friendly.

“Hi dear! Looking for work, yes? Please send over your personal info and a photo~”

Sang Ling typed out a message.

“Hello, my name is Sang Ling. I’m a female Alpha, height…, weight…, currently enrolled at the Military Academy.”

She sent it and watched the message flip to “read.”

The other side went inexplicably silent for a dozen-odd seconds.

Then a message of extraordinary hostility arrived.

“Impersonating an Alpha for fun, is it? Drop dead, you scammer!”

Sang Ling, who had been about to send her photo: ?

Huh?