“Add me on the Light Brain and I’ll transfer you the money.”
Now that everything was out in the open and Lin Jinxu had agreed, Sang Ling wanted to subsidize the household on the spot.
The great villain who would one day bring heaven and earth crashing down currently couldn’t afford to eat. What a tragic story.
She absolutely could not allow the great villain to darken because of hunger.
Lin Jinxu brought over her own Light Brain, and Sang Ling discovered that although the device was well kept and clean, the model was clearly outdated.
Lin Jinxu said softly, “Family Head, I’ll need you to unlock the permissions for me.”
Sang Ling cocked her head. “What did we just agree on? No more ‘Family Head.'”
Lin Jinxu pressed her lips together, embarrassed. “Then what should I call you?”
“Just call me Sang Ling.”
Sang. Ling.
Lin Jinxu rehearsed the name in her mind, but before she could speak, Sang Ling continued:
“Though—you were my sister’s wife, which makes you my sister-in-law. You can also call me your little sister.”
Before Lin Jinxu could bring herself to say the name Sang Ling, a flicker of displeasure passed through her, but she adjusted quickly and said softly, “Little sister.”
“Mm.” Sang Ling nodded, oblivious to the undercurrents, and took her Light Brain.
In the interstellar era, Omegas didn’t even have the autonomy to go online; a Light Brain’s permissions had to be opened for them by an Alpha. Legend had it that once, a certain great personage’s beloved Omega saw the truth of an Omega’s social standing clearly on the net—and sank into melancholy until she died.
Ever since, that great personage had placed Omegas’ internet permissions under the management of their owning Alphas, “for the sake of protecting Omegas’ mental health.”
But Sang Ling couldn’t care less about any of that. She felt the measure was “control,” plain and simple, not “protection.”
She unlocked every permission on the Light Brain without ceremony, added Lin Jinxu as a contact, and out of the 100,000 the client had just transferred, sent 10,000 to Lin Jinxu.
“This is household money for now. Buy something tasty and nutritious—fatten yourself and Little Yao up.”
The two Omegas, one large one small, were both shockingly thin, so Sang Ling added a few extra instructions.
“Tell me when you run out.”
The remaining 90,000, Sang Ling planned to save for repaying Eldest Miss Jiang Yunzhao when term started.
Money transferred, she stretched. “I’m going to shower. That’s everything for today. Good night.”
“Good night, Family Head.”
Sang Ling turned to look at her. Only then did the Omega realize she’d misspoken again, correcting herself: “Good night, little sister.”
Sang Ling nodded, satisfied, and went into the bathroom. The great villain wouldn’t be subjected to dignitary humiliation anymore—surely she wouldn’t darken now, right?
The bathroom’s shabbiness exceeded even Sang Ling’s expectations.
The walls were rough, uneven stone brick; the floor had no tiles at all. The showerhead was an ancient model and the water heater feeble—Sang Ling waited nearly half an hour for hot water.
When she went looking for shampoo, she discovered the bathroom stocked only trial-size sachets from supermarket promotions, each a little packet you had to squeeze out.
Truly, they were poor to a remarkable degree.
Sang Ling took a lightning-fast combat shower, hurried back to her room, lay down comfortably on the bed, and browsed her Light Brain while toweling her hair.
Little Cyan Bunny had already replied—excited and grateful beyond all expectation, sending another 100,000 as deposit.
“Your Excellency, might I book your time tomorrow from two in the afternoon to eight in the evening? I’d like to have afternoon tea with you, and dinner as well.”
Sang Ling sent a single: Sure.
Little Cyan Bunny replied at once. “Thank you so much! Words cannot express my gratitude.”
Little Cyan Bunny was very thorough.
“I will order you a complete set of performance attire, and I’ve already engaged the best stylist on all of Capital Star to provide at-home service. Might I have your address?”
Sang Ling: “Sorry, my address is too private. I can’t give it to you.”
Little Cyan Bunny: “No! You never need to apologize, Your Excellency—you’re far too modest. Of course your privacy matters. That was my oversight.”
Little Cyan Bunny: “I’ve booked you a private styling studio with the best reputation. After your styling tomorrow, a car will come to pick you up. I’ve reserved an entire café and will be awaiting you with great anticipation.”
The other side sent the address of a styling studio. Sang Ling glanced at it—not far—and decided to take the Sky Rail Train there tomorrow.
She yawned, ready for sleep, and sent one last message: “Good night.”
Little Cyan Bunny hesitated again, seemingly overcome with feeling; the “other party is typing” notice ran on for over a minute before a simple line came through.
“Good night. Sweet dreams.”
What a polite client. Sang Ling set down the Light Brain and drifted into sleep wrapped in that blessing.
Her sleep quality had always been excellent. Even after a day as chaotic as transmigration, brawling, and job-hunting, she was asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.
The bedroom was still and quiet.
“Ah—!”
“Ahh—!”
“AHHH—!”
Screams rose and fell in the President’s office. Su Qingqing clutched her Light Brain as if it were the most precious treasure in the world, screaming madly, venting the emotions in her heart.
“Sis! My Sis! Chu Zhou! I booked the living Chu Zhou! She’s super, super like her!”
She flung herself at Su Qingyue like someone deranged, nearly weeping. “What did I ever do to deserve this—a Beta girl like me, meeting such an Alpha bodhisattva! Such a good attitude, and so kind-hearted!”
“And most importantly! She really is that handsome and beautiful! It’s like Chu Zhou broke through the dimensional wall to come find me!”
Hugging Su Qingyue’s arm, Su Qingqing sighed, “If I hadn’t sworn to love only paper Alphas for the rest of my life, I’d chase her right now and have myself a three-dimensional romance.”
“I’ll only say this once.” She lowered her voice, whispering, half-guilty. “I think she’s even prettier than Chu Zhou.”
Su Qingyue had only been letting her rave with a cold face, being shaken all the while as she worked through financial reports. At those words, she went imperceptibly colder, removing Su Qingqing’s hand from her arm.
She didn’t care for living Alphas. As head of Capital Star’s largest financial group, Su Qingyue had many opportunities to work with the military and had met plenty of Alphas—precisely because of that, she had long since lost the worshipful filter most people wore.
She liked Chu Zhou, the virtual Alpha. Even if it sounded laughable—a President worth hundreds of billions fond of a Dating AI—she simply liked that gentle quality of Chu Zhou’s.
She liked her in secret, liked her all the way to one hundred percent affection.
Therefore Su Qingyue did not like this Alpha making money off Chu Zhou’s name. In her eyes, this Alpha was leeching Chu Zhou’s blood.
“You need to be careful this Alpha is scamming you, or that her photos are heavily edited. You do know real-life Alphas don’t look like character models, right?”
Su Qingyue reminded her sister, who was already far gone.
“You haven’t even met her in person—haven’t even gotten a single video—and you’ve already spent 200,000. That is not the Su Family way of doing business.”
Su Qingqing mm-mm’d her dismissively, only sitting bolt upright in fierce protest when Su Qingyue said something bad about Sang Ling. “Says who! Our Alpha is exactly as pretty as the character model!”
She shoved the photo on her Light Brain in front of Su Qingyue’s face. “Look, look!”
Su Qingyue hadn’t wanted to look. What was there to see in a three-dimensional Alpha? But Su Qingqing insisted, so she pushed up her gold-rimmed glasses and glanced over, casually.
At that one glance, she suddenly froze.
The Alpha in the photo wore the white officer’s uniform, the collar below it buttoned immaculately, wrapped tight—unbearably austere—yet at the collar, one button had been quietly undone. One couldn’t help wondering: who undid that button? Was it her herself? What had happened to her that she needed to loosen her collar to calm down? A lover? What kind of lover could make this austere officer so indulgent?
Sang Ling’s lashes were long and straight, dipping slightly to veil the sharpness in her eyes—so this Alpha with her blade-sharp brows and handsome features gained, for no reason at all, a few degrees of gentleness.
“Chu Zhou……”
Su Qingyue breathed the name. Her voice was so soft that even Su Qingqing, right beside her, didn’t catch it—but only Su Qingyue knew what a storm raged in her own heart.
Too alike. Too alike. Especially the bearing—it was Chu Zhou’s soul, complete.
As if Chu Zhou had torn through spacetime and physical law for the sole purpose of coming to see her once.
Su Qingyue, famous in the business world for absolute rationality, the heartless President who wrung profit from every transaction—at this moment, could only feel dizzy, dazzled.
Too alike. So alike her chest nearly ached.
Su Qingqing smugly reclaimed her Light Brain. “I knew it. No one can resist beauty of this caliber.”
The female Alpha in the photo receded further and further away. Su Qingyue’s hand rose instinctively to chase the Light Brain—then she caught herself and forcibly restrained the motion.
Su Qingqing was still blissfully planning tomorrow. “Tomorrow we’ll do afternoon tea first, then the amusement park, then a romantic dinner in the evening.”
Su Qingyue composed her expression and picked up her gold fountain pen again, as if nothing had happened.
She tried to return to the financial reports, but her fingers were clenched tight around the pen, and for a moment she didn’t know what to write.
Amid Su Qingqing’s joyful planning, she said, in her most practiced cold tone, feigning reason,
“Where are you two going tomorrow? Be careful the other party is a bad person.”
“Oh please, her name is Sang Ling. She showed me her Military Academy cadet ID and everything. Why would a distinguished Alpha bother scamming one little Beta like me?”
Su Qingqing answered carelessly.
“Which café tomorrow? Which amusement park? Which restaurant?” Su Qingyue sounded like nothing more than a sister concerned for her sister. “Tell me, or I’ll worry.”
Su Qingqing finally gave an ‘oh’ and answered, “We’re going to the biggest commercial district on Capital Star. It’s crowded there, I’ll be perfectly safe. Sis, stop worrying about me……”
She seemed to say something more, but Su Qingyue could no longer hear it.
She told herself: just once. Just to go look.
She was only going to prove that this so-called Alpha called Sang Ling could never, ever measure up to Chu Zhou.
