“I have a date today. Off I go.”
Sang Ling wore a loose white T-shirt, her hair tied back loosely with a black hair tie—the picture of casual.
She’d barely finished washing up before yawning, greeting Lin Jinxu, who was in the living room teaching Little Yao her characters.
“Family Head—no, wait, little sister—there’s breakfast on the table.”
With money coming in, Lin Jinxu had already bought a good stock of groceries.
“Skipping it, I’ll be late—”
Sang Ling glanced at the table. Pork-and-greens congee was gently steaming. She immediately changed her tune. “Fine, I’ll have a little, then.”
The great villain’s cooking truly could not be faulted. One spoonful—light yet savory all at once.
Sang Ling finished fast; now she really was running late. She stood, dashed for the door, and didn’t forget to call back:
“Bye, Little Yao! Bye, Sister-in-Law!”
Behind her, Little Yao set down her crayon and looked up at Lin Jinxu. “Auntie, Little Aunt is so undignified.”
Lin Jinxu smiled a little and patted the girl’s head.
Sang Ling’s current home was in the Slum District of District 12, with no Sky Rail Train passing through. She ran for a good while following the navigation on her Light Brain before reaching the first station outside the slums.
Silver tracks wove through the air overhead, threading the whole city together like yarn, transparent-carriage trains whooshing past.
Around the tracks, flyers of every size and color streaked through the sky at high speed like birds in a free-for-all.
Sang Ling tilted her head back and watched a while, marveling a little at the era’s technology, before boarding.
Today she would first go to the studio the client had booked for hair, makeup, and costume, then head to the First Commercial District to wait for her client.
Off the train, she found the studio and pushed open the door. Several stylists with riotously dyed hair were chatting.
“Hello, I’m Sang Ling. Do I have an appointment today?”
The stylists looked up to find a tall, slender girl standing in the doorway in a plain T-shirt and trousers, without a trace of styling—yet her astonishing beauty lost nothing for it.
Though the stylists couldn’t smell Sang Ling’s pheromones, the gray-white Pheromone Suppressant Patch on the back of her neck told them at a glance: an Alpha.
“Holy—so handsome.”
One of the stylists murmured to herself, “In my whole lifetime, I actually get to style an Alpha.”
Sang Ling shrugged.
Little Cyan Bunny’s messages had dripped with rich-girl energy throughout, and the studio she’d booked was extremely professional—her own usual studio, in fact. Expensive, but the craftsmanship fully earned the price.
Bustled by a crowd of stylists, Sang Ling got her hair washed. Completely unaccustomed to being waited on by so many people, she tried to struggle, only to be pinned down by the swarming stylists.
“Your Excellency, there is no escape. We will absolutely make you look better than Chu Zhou herself!”
Sang Ling: “I really don’t need this many people……”
Just then someone pushed the door open to ask, “Can I still get styling done today?”
Sang Ling: “Go take care of that customer, quick!”
The stylists called out in unison to the person at the door, “We’re closed today! Only one big project today!”
Sang Ling: ……
Facing this crowd of touchy-feely, high-EQ stylists who had cast her as the star of some Alpha dress-up minigame, she was genuinely a little scared.
Hair washed and blow-dried, a short-haired stylist with green dye shook a bottle vigorously. “This is Rapid Hair Growth Agent, a brand-new product from Su Chemical Industries. The only place on all of Capital Star with samples.”
Sang Ling’s hair wasn’t short, but it fell far short of Chu Zhou’s waist-length silver-white mane.
The stylist sprayed on the growth agent, and after ten minutes Sang Ling stared, wide-eyed, as her hair lengthened at a visible pace—nearly uncontrollable, still growing past her waist, past her hips, until it reached her ankles before it finally stopped.
At the same moment, Sang Ling was hit by a wave of fierce hunger.
The stylist thoughtfully served her an enormous plate of desserts and a cup of hot lemon tea, explaining, “Hair growth takes energy, and hair itself is made of protein. So you’ll be very hungry.”
Sang Ling nodded and ate her desserts quietly while the stylists dyed her hair with temporary dye, then trimmed it.
While they styled her on this side, on the other side a red-haired makeup artist crouched before her, foundation raised—and for the longest time, made no move at all.
“Is something wrong?”
Sang Ling had finished her desserts and the woman still hadn’t moved, so she had to ask what was the matter.
“It’s too perfect.” The makeup artist’s voice was dreamlike. “Your bare face—it’s too perfect. Cosmetics would be a desecration of you.”
“Those cosplayers these days wear makeup thicker than wall plaster. But you don’t need any. Makeup would actually make you less harmonious.”
Sang Ling got goosebumps. “You really know how to flatter.”
The makeup artist blew her a wink. “Every word from the heart.”
Hair done, the stylists presented a box. “This is the costume Miss Su sent over, all hand-tailored by the finest seamstresses. Please put it on.”
Sang Ling opened the box: a white military uniform, clearly custom-made one-to-one to Chu Zhou’s character design, wonderful to the touch, the stitching even and fine.
Pressed into the uniform was a Light Energy Gun—silver-white grip, obsidian body—Chu Zhou’s signature weapon, said to be crafted from the most expensive Liquid Metal and the rarest Star Nether Stone.
But that was game-design extravagance. No one in reality was that wasteful.
Sang Ling picked up the gun and fiddled with it curiously. It had real heft—surely not plastic. Could Little Cyan Bunny really be this extravagant? It was just a Light Energy Gun prop, and yet made of genuine materials?
She casually detached the grip and inspected the gun’s internal structure—and her face abruptly changed.
Why did this structure look so familiar?
Liquid Metal rounds. Light-energy accelerator……
Wasn’t this a textbook Light Energy Gun?
No way…… It was just a roleplay. The client wouldn’t actually have gotten her a real gun, would she?
Sang Ling suppressed the shock in her chest, changed into the uniform without betraying anything, and strapped the Light Energy Gun to the holster on the outside of her thigh.
She thanked everyone with perfect courtesy and left the studio. Outside, she went straight to a deserted patch of wasteland, found a big tree, and fired a shot on the spot.
A dazzling white light streaked past. The suppressor made the shot utterly silent, and that lush, flourishing tree—too thick for one person to wrap their arms around—crashed down amid the silence, kicking up an enormous cloud of dust, the birds roosting in it scattering in a panicked clatter of wings.
Sang Ling stood where she was, staring at the gun, dumbfounded.
Granted, in the interstellar era everyone was armed to the teeth, and buying a handgun on the black market was no harder than buying a bottle of vinegar. But a military-spec Light Energy Gun like this still wasn’t common, right?
It certainly shouldn’t be handed out as a gift to a cosplayer playing a paper character.
Just who was this client of hers……
First Commercial District, Capital Star.
Su Qingyue owned eighty percent of the property here, so clearing out an entire third-floor restaurant was trivial. She gazed out at the fountain plaza, where several white doves fluttered, snatching fries from tourists.
Su Qingqing had told her yesterday that she was meeting the Alpha here.
Ding—!
A message notification. Su Qingyue set down her coffee: Su Qingqing, messaging her.
Little Cyan Bunny: [AHHH! Elders are so annoying. Of all times to manage me, they pick NOW?]
Little Cyan Bunny: [They have to quiz me on my studies on the day of my date?]
Little Cyan Bunny: [What do I do, I’m going to be late. I absolutely refuse to make Your Excellency Alpha wait for me. Waaah, what if Your Excellency Sang Ling starts hating me.]
A thread of a smile suddenly appeared on Su Qingyue’s habitually expressionless face.
Her little sister, innocent as ever.
Of course Su Qingqing would be late—because it was Su Qingyue who had arranged for people to delay her, precisely so that Su Qingqing would arrive late and Su Qingyue could take first look at this Alpha performer.
But watching her sister’s complaints, Su Qingyue—merciless, root-and-branch destroyer of business rivals—felt, for once, a thread of softness.
It was the first time her sister had liked someone this much. Let her be. Whatever this Alpha turned out to be, the Su Family would never let Su Qingqing come to harm.
Su Qingyue finished her coffee and couldn’t help feeling childish. All this, over a single photo seen last night—coming all the way here for it.
She wasn’t some teenager anymore. When had she lost her composure like this, daydreaming like a schoolgirl?
She decided to abort the original plan and leave now.
Before leaving, she opened her Light Brain and sent instructions to the family elders: stop pestering Su Qingqing. Then she messaged her private driver to wait at the entrance for the second young miss and bring Su Qingqing over promptly.
Let this Alpha go to Su Qingqing, then.
Send. She picked up her black suit jacket and rose to leave.
At that very moment, cries of astonishment rose from outside the window.
Su Qingyue glanced down, offhand—and froze on the spot.
What she had seen yesterday was a photo.
A photo was partial. Static. Incomplete.
But the person walking toward the fountain now, in a white military uniform, silver-white hair loose to her waist, was real.
The sunlight was so good—it gilded the newcomer’s silver-white hair with a halo, lit that handsome face, lit the gray-white Pheromone Suppressant Patch on the back of her neck.
Across the plaza, camera flashes rose and fell, greedily, near-offensively recording the person before them.
“Chu Zhou—!”
Among the crowd, fans of Chu Zhou had long since recognized the character Sang Ling was playing. In that moment, one of them truly felt her virtual lover had crossed the dimensional wall to find her, and cried out with tears in her voice, “My Chu Zhou.”
The female Alpha paused, and gave her a gentle smile.
From the third floor, Su Qingyue looked down at that smile and thought: She’s not your Chu Zhou. She’s my Chu Zhou.
My Chu Zhou.
Mine.
On the Light Brain, the Su Family elders had replied “understood”—but Su Qingyue abruptly changed her mind.
“Keep Su Qingqing home today. Don’t let her out.”
She sent the message and left the restaurant, hurrying down the stairs.
“Right—two coffees, thank you.”
Sang Ling sat down in the agreed-upon café, placed her order, and saw off the red-faced server. She lowered her head, about to message and ask where her client was.
“Hello. I’m your client.”
A woman’s voice like a mountain spring rang out, and someone stopped at her table.
Sang Ling looked up to see a woman in gold-rimmed glasses, features cool and lovely, the very picture of an elite.
“I’m Little Cyan Bunny.”
So said Su Qingyue—known among her business rivals as the Cold-Blooded Crocodile, vicious and dangerous—without a flicker of change in her expression.
