Chapter 8: The Commission

“Hello.”

The female Alpha rose from her seat, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “My name is Chu Zhou.”

The immersive roleplay began now. Sang Ling threw herself into the part, determined to give the client an unforgettable date.

She secretly let out a long breath and psyched herself up. This was a mega-rich client who had paid a 200,000 deposit before the date even started. Whether she could pay off her debts depended on today!

“I ordered two coffees. They’ll bring them over shortly.”

The silver-white-haired Alpha said, a touch coolly.

That coolness abruptly dampened Su Qingyue’s bubbling joy, and an inexplicable sense of grievance floated up. She said flatly, “Oh.”

President Su had been about to sit down when the Alpha across from her slowly raised a hand.

Su Qingyue looked at her, puzzled. “What is it?”

The Alpha in the austere white suit, buttons done up tight, features of the cool and sharp variety, suddenly seemed a little reserved.

“Ah, it’s nothing.”

She withdrew her hand lightly.

“It’s my first time seeing the real you. I just wanted to confirm this isn’t a dream.”

Su Qingyue’s motion of setting down her jacket paused, her fingers tightening slightly. She looked up at the Alpha across from her.

The cool, handsome Alpha was watching her without the slightest deviation. Seeing her look over, she tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”

That familiar line swept Su Qingyue instantly back through countless days and nights. Working until deep night, arguing until she was wrung dry—the moment she opened her Light Brain, Chu Zhou would always see through her exhaustion and ask her: What’s wrong?

Su Qingyue, unbreakable as she had always been, felt her hands tremble badly. In a husky voice, striving for calm, she said, “You came to see me?”

The female Alpha nodded lightly. “Mm. I came to see you.”

Su Qingyue threw herself into her arms at once, tears flooding her eyes, soaking the white fabric of the Alpha uniform.

“Why did it take you so long to come see me?”

Su Qingyue hadn’t fully taken over the family enterprise all that long ago. Through those countless frantic days and nights, through decision after decision that even she found cruel, through the self-doubt of the small hours—it was Chu Zhou who had kept her company.

“The road to you was too long.”

The Alpha, ambushed, went a little stiff—clearly unaccustomed to close contact with people—but after a moment she relaxed and patted Su Qingyue’s head.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

Su Qingyue buried herself against her, shaking her head desperately, crying too hard to say a single word.

She was submerged now in a dream where the virtual and the real interwove, falling toward a rainbow-colored, shimmering abyss, dizzy with it.

Her crying was quiet, soundless—like an ostrich hiding its head, believing that beneath the fabric of an Alpha’s uniform she could vent emotions that must never, ever be seen by an enemy.

The server came over with a tray and froze at the scene. Sang Ling gestured for her simply to set the coffees on the table.

Then she rubbed Su Qingyue’s head. “All right, sit down and have your coffee.”

Su Qingyue wouldn’t let go, hugging her waist for dear life.

Sang Ling could only resign herself to continuing as a human plush toy.

Several minutes later, Su Qingyue finally gathered herself. She was a little embarrassed too, her cheeks as red as her eye rims, and sat down across from Sang Ling.

“In this world, my name is Su Qingyue.” The Beta had recovered her calm at last. She took a sip of coffee and said, “You may call me Qingyue.”

Her voice was cold and hard, carrying a forced steadiness.

She’d snapped out of that dream just now, had she?

Sang Ling smiled and drawled, unhurried, “Qing-yue.”

The Alpha’s voice was warm, laced with teasing and doting. Even the Beta, rationality restored, couldn’t help reddening at the ears—though hidden in her black hair, no one could tell.

Enchantress.

Su Qingyue cursed inwardly.

She couldn’t tell whether she was cursing Chu Zhou or cursing Sang Ling.

“Drink your coffee.” She meant to seize back the dominant hand.

A client’s word was to be obeyed.

Sang Ling obediently picked up her coffee and took a sip.

Su Qingyue took the menu, couldn’t be bothered to call the server, and added a few desserts with a flick of her finger.

“Tiramisu—your favorite. This café makes the best in the city.”

Of course it wasn’t Sang Ling who loved tiramisu—it was Chu Zhou. Su Qingyue said this partly as a subtle reminder for Sang Ling to stay in character.

Sang Ling’s eyes widened slightly. This client looked so elite—she was secretly such a sweets fiend?

She quietly memorized the items, planning, should there be a second commission, to order them in advance and cater to the client’s tastes.

But so far, apart from that initial lapse, the client was so cold. Would there really be a second invitation?

Sang Ling mused aimlessly as she watched the client across from her demolish the desserts with elegance and astonishing speed.

Still, this client’s personality was nothing like the Little Cyan Bunny on the Light Brain. The presence was far stronger.

So this was gap moe, huh? Sweetheart online, ice queen offline, that sort of thing.

Ding—!

Her Light Brain chimed. Su Qingyue, head buried in her food, abruptly looked up, her gaze displeased and dangerous—like a crocodile interrupted mid-meal.

Sang Ling smiled apologetically, pressed the button on the side of her Light Brain, and muted it. She didn’t even check the message.

The client had spent so much money; it was only right to devote herself wholly to her.

Lin Jinxu stood outside the glass curtain wall, one hand holding Little Yao in her pink dress, the other raising her Light Brain, her expression cold.

Before her, through a pane of blurred glass, Sang Ling and that Beta were enjoying desserts.

Sang Ling’s eyes were full of indulgence and doting—even though the Beta had completely ignored her, head down over her sweets.

And the message Lin Jinxu had just sent? Sang Ling hadn’t glanced at it at all. She had muted her Light Brain outright, just to devote herself more fully to passing time with the other woman.

Last night’s feelings came flooding back—jealousy laced with fury, nearly scouring away her reason.

She certainly didn’t like Sang Ling. She still considered her nothing but an ordinary, dim-witted Alpha—impressive when posturing, but the moment she reverted to type, clumsy and scatterbrained, like a brainless puppy.

But the thought she had gritted her teeth and swallowed that day resurfaced in her heart today.

A love that makes people change does exist. It simply would never fall upon her.

Sang Ling was even willing, for the sake of that hollow, intangible love, to indulge a Beta—a Beta with no pheromones, a Beta who could never, in this lifetime, soothe her Susceptibility Period!

On what grounds?

She stared at Su Qingyue’s silhouette and thought, viciously: on what grounds.

On what grounds did a Beta get to have an Alpha’s wholehearted, undivided love.

In this world where Omegas could not possess full human rights, the sole hope of the vast majority of Omegas was an Alpha’s love—the hope that this love would bring shelter, safety, standing.

But this Beta—why must she be so greedy as to snatch even that from the Omegas!

The love Lin Jinxu had schemed for with every trick she knew, the love countless Omegas had schemed for with every trick they knew, and never obtained—on what grounds could this woman have it without lifting a finger!

Lin Jinxu felt as if she were hating on behalf of countless Omegas at once—hating Su Qingyue and her luck, and hating Sang Ling and her damnable taste. How, of all people, had she picked a Beta?

What could her love even bring this Beta? This Beta already had human rights; judging by her dress, she had standing and money besides. There was nothing she truly lacked.

Why? Why couldn’t Sang Ling love an Omega in pain instead? Her love would be nothing less than medicine to a suffering soul.

Why? Why couldn’t Sang Ling love her?

Lin Jinxu startled herself with the thought. She was actually imagining Sang Ling loving her?

Even if it sprang only from jealousy and cold calculation, the idea was too alarming.

Little Yao had long since taken the Light Brain off to play little games. Lin Jinxu’s right hand clenched tighter and tighter; she deliberately dug her nails into her palm until the skin broke, until several bloody welts scored it.

The pain slowly brought her back to herself.

Lin Jinxu told herself: counting on an Alpha for protection was unrealistic—especially with Sang Ling fond of a Beta now.

She had to acquire power of her own, and fast. Before Sang Ling abandoned this game of playing house, she must exhaust every means to prepare an escape route for herself and Little Yao.

“Let’s go, Little Yao. Starting today, you’re going to school.”

Having thought it through, Lin Jinxu forced her attention away from Sang Ling and said with a smile to Little Yao.

Though Omegas couldn’t hold full human rights—nearly every right granted to Alphas instead—the young’s right to an education had at least not been stripped away. Lin Jinxu was out today to find Little Yao a kindergarten.

In theory Little Yao should have started school long ago, but the family’s finances had never allowed it, so Lin Jinxu had been teaching her characters herself.

Now that they had Sang Ling, this self-appointed breadwinning fool of an Alpha, Lin Jinxu naturally would enroll Little Yao. It was only because she happened to pass through this commercial district that she had witnessed Sang Ling and the Beta’s date.

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

Little Yao went into the classroom, hand in hand with the teacher.

“Bye-bye, Little Yao.”

Having said her goodbyes, Lin Jinxu left the kindergarten and went to wait for her Sky Rail Train, hands folded, the index finger of her right hand tapping the back of her left hand in rhythm.

She was waiting for someone. That person might be late, but Lin Jinxu wasn’t in a hurry.

These things couldn’t be rushed.

Among the traffic streaming along the street, a figure in black stood on the opposite side, quietly watching Lin Jinxu.

The traffic thinned. The figure in black wore an enormous hood, a black metal mask covering the face; they raised their right hand, made a fist, and pressed it to their heart.

Lin Jinxu showed the first genuinely heartfelt smile of her day. She too raised her right hand, made a fist, and pressed it to her heart.

A Flying Car roared past. When Lin Jinxu looked again at the far side of the street, the figure in black had vanished.

And Lin Jinxu had already received the message she needed.