“All right, I’ll stand here and we’ll take the photo.”
Sang Ling switched on the living room’s main light, stood before a blank wall, and nodded to Lin Jinxu, signaling she could shoot.
Lin Jinxu held the Light Brain, lost in thought—she didn’t know what she was thinking—and for a moment didn’t move at all.
Seeing her like this, Sang Ling called out to her. “Lin Jinxu?”
Lin Jinxu came back to herself, shook her head, and seeing Sang Ling’s stance, forced out her habitual smile. “A photo, right.”
She raised the Light Brain. On screen, Sang Ling had never played a role and knew no poses; she could only stand stiff-faced and ramrod-straight in place, like a slender white birch.
Lin Jinxu pressed the shutter. One click, and the Alpha’s image was frozen.
On screen, Sang Ling relaxed at once, breaking into a delighted grin. “Done? How is it?”
Lin Jinxu’s tone was unreadable. “You set such store by this photo, Family Head. You really do care for this young lady.”
Of course she did—the other side was a rich older sister who could tip her a hundred thousand on a whim.
Sang Ling nodded vigorously. The female Alpha whose bold, sharp features were normally wild as a young wolf now radiated the particular warmth and joy of a large dog. She curled her lips into a smile. “I really hope she likes this photo.”
The young Alpha’s feelings were even more naive, more pure, than Lin Jinxu had imagined. Her throat tightened involuntarily, and for a moment she didn’t know how she should choose.
In the end she closed her eyes and sighed without sound.
When she opened them again, Lin Jinxu heard herself say, with feigned kindness, “You’re too stiff, Family Head. You have natural charm, true, but if you want to win a girl’s favor, you can’t be this rigid.”
“I have a few small suggestions. Would you like to hear them? Of course, you’re perfectly free not to take my advice.”
Why wouldn’t she listen? Of course she’d listen. Sang Ling nodded for her to go on.
Lin Jinxu spoke carefully. “You could lean back a little. Rest your back against the wall.”
Sang Ling complied without a moment’s hesitation.
Her obedience gave Lin Jinxu a measure of confidence, and she went further. “Right leg raised, knee bent. Right foot braced against the wall.”
Sang Ling obediently lifted her right foot in its gleaming black leather military boot and braced it against the wall, even asking Lin Jinxu, “Like this?”
Her expression was utterly guileless, like the most studious of good children—whatever the teacher said, she would execute to the letter.
For some reason, Lin Jinxu’s fingers clenched, rubbing back and forth. She was silent for half a second, seized by a strange satisfaction that came from who knew where.
That satisfaction spurred her on. “A little to the left. A little lower. Yes—not that high. More natural.”
Whatever she said, Sang Ling did—docile as an expensive, life-size doll.
Suddenly Lin Jinxu remembered the doll she’d owned as a child. That doll had been tattered and worn, but through the drifting years of orphanages and foster homes, Lin Jinxu had always kept it with her.
Back then she was only a well-behaved black-haired Omega girl clutching a broken doll. Every adult who met her would cherish her, sincerely or not, saying she must love that doll so much, must depend on it so—what a sweet girl she was.
But only Lin Jinxu herself knew she felt no emotional attachment to that doll at all. She simply liked manipulating it. She liked the way the doll changed shape in her hands, moving and dressing exactly according to her will.
In that drifting, uncontrollable Omega orphan life, that doll was the anchor of Lin Jinxu’s existence.
And now, looking at this powerful, handsome Alpha who had appeared before her that very day in the guise of a savior, Lin Jinxu felt her throat grow drier and drier.
That burning craving for control was growing anew from deep in her bones, bringing an intense itch, nearly splitting her skin in its eagerness to crawl out.
Lin Jinxu’s silence made Sang Ling anxious. She tilted her head up, pressing, “What’s wrong? Is my expression that bad? Is there a pose I should change?”
“Tell me. I’ll change it, I promise.”
Exactly like a clingy puppy circling at your feet, wagging its tail, begging endlessly for instruction.
The corner of Lin Jinxu’s mouth abruptly curved. Her pupils remained black as the abyss, carrying an uncanny allure.
She said softly, “Yes, there are a few things you should change. Just listen to my instructions now.”
“Relax your shoulders.”
“Hand on your collar.”
One sentence from her, one adjustment from Sang Ling—never a question, only meticulous execution.
Lin Jinxu had thought this would satisfy her. It didn’t. That itch still lingered deep in her bones, howling its emptiness.
The dryness in her throat seemed only to worsen.
Lin Jinxu’s lashes trembled. She looked at Sang Ling’s earnest face, knowing full well the naive Alpha hadn’t the faintest idea what was happening.
So she set down the Light Brain and walked gracefully to stand before the Alpha, hearing herself say softly, “There’s still something to change. Let me help.”
She watched her own slender fingers settle on the Alpha’s collar, buttoned up to the very top. The white uniform was cut clean and close, wrapping the Alpha up tight.
Jade-like fingers lingered on the button, caressing, then pressed gently.
Click.
Lin Jinxu undid the top button of the Alpha’s uniform.
“The photo’s done.”
Lin Jinxu’s voice was pleasant.
Having posed forever, Sang Ling was finally free of modeling. She deflated like a punctured balloon, stretching her limbs.
This face-for-hire business was no easy trade either. Why did one full-body photo take so long and hurt so much?
Just now Lin Jinxu had undone her buttons, straightened her clothes, run slender fingers through her hair to fix her hairstyle—it had taken ages.
All for one full-body shot.
Sang Ling resolved there and then to respect the modeling profession forever.
Rubbing her shoulder, she walked over and took the Light Brain from Lin Jinxu’s hand.
In any case, the photo was done.
She looked at it and couldn’t help raising her own brows in astonishment.
In the photo, the female Alpha stood tall and graceful, leaning lightly against the wall, her strikingly handsome face cool and indifferent as deep winter—yet her posture was relaxed. She gazed motionlessly at you, and in that eternal gaze there seemed, for you alone, to glimmer a thread of tenderness.
This is me?
This is me?
This heart-corrupting enchantress is me?
Sang Ling was profoundly shaken. Her self-awareness was very clear: the face she shared with the original host was decent enough, but her own excessively sunny personality always leaked through the skin and gave her away.
But under Lin Jinxu’s direction, that puppy-like Sang Ling had been hidden completely, and a far greater brilliance had bloomed in its place.
Photography—truly a noble profession. Photography—truly sorcery.
Having marveled, she said offhandedly, “Great. Now I can send the photo to that girl. Hope she likes it.”
The slight upturn of Lin Jinxu’s mouth—that moment ago she had been so sated, as if every hungry ghost in her bones had been soothed—abruptly flattened. She answered coolly, “Mm.”
Sang Ling sent the photo to her client, [Little Cyan Bunny]. She was quite certain that the moment the client saw this photo, she would agree to hire her.
Lin Jinxu had photographed her far too charmingly.
Since it was settled, Sang Ling didn’t wait for a reply. She backed out of the job-chat page and opened her balance.
One hundred thousand Star Coins, glittering on the screen.
She had said she’d earn money and support the family—so earn money and support the family she would.
But first she had to make sure the members of her household had no misunderstandings about her.
She called out to stop Lin Jinxu. It was the first time she had said the other’s name so solemnly.
“Lin Jinxu.” The syllables left her lips as Sang Ling sat down at the dining table. “Let’s talk.”
Lin Jinxu, seated on the sofa, inexplicably out of sorts since the photo was taken, looked up. She was as gentle and yielding as ever, rising without a word and walking toward her, hair swaying with each step like a drifting cloud.
The housedress was so oversized that its cuffs swallowed half her palms, which only made her look more pitiable, more endearing.
Lin Jinxu knew perfectly well how beautiful and charming she was, yet Sang Ling seemed entirely oblivious.
Or perhaps it was because she had more important things to say. There was none of the stunned admiration Lin Jinxu was accustomed to seeing in people’s eyes—only a rare, rare earnestness.
“Earlier, while we were taking the full-body photo, I didn’t get the chance to correct you. I told you—you don’t need to call me Family Head.”
Seeing Lin Jinxu sit down, Sang Ling came straight to the point. “That word carries hierarchy and ownership. Neither of those has anything to do with you and me.”
“Interstellar law may provide that when a related Alpha dies, her property passes to the nearest Alpha of blood.”
“But whatever the law says, I don’t consider Omegas property, and I have never once thought of owning you.”
The young Alpha’s eyes were full of sincerity, as if she had been reborn into a different person entirely.
She continued, “So you don’t need to call me Family Head.”
“Now then—let’s introduce ourselves properly.” Sang Ling’s eyes curved in a smile as she extended her hand. “I’m Sang Ling, a female Alpha, currently a second-year student at the Military Academy on Capital Star.”
“The Sang Ling of the past had a shameful record—addicted to gambling, and she nearly made a completely wrong decision. But I’m working hard to improve, to become an upright young person with good morals who can provide for her family.”
The hand hidden beneath Lin Jinxu’s sleeve trembled lightly, twice.
“I will work hard to provide for this family.”
The young Alpha said softly, “Would you be willing to become my family?”
Lin Jinxu’s hand trembled uncontrollably.
Should she believe this? Could she truly believe it?
Hadn’t she already confirmed that Alphas were unreliable scum, every last one? If even the fated love born of AO attraction couldn’t make an Alpha take responsibility, on what grounds should she trust this baseless declaration of “family”?
Family? Sang Ling and Sang Chi had been on such terrible terms—why should she trust the weight of that word “family” from her mouth?
But in the end she steadied herself and, whether in feigned sincerity or not, placed her hand in the Alpha’s.
I’m only pretending to be docile to make use of this Alpha. If the Alpha wants to play house, I’ll play along.
So Lin Jinxu told herself.
