The photos and videos of the food had barely been uploaded to Star Net when Ye Chengxing started receiving a flood of preorder requests. If she hadn’t made significantly more this time and limited the slots, she probably wouldn’t have had any left to sell in the store—they would’ve sold out online in an instant.
She filled a batch of orders, and the rest flew off the shelves just as quickly.
Even so, despite the brisk sales, Ye Chengxing erred on the side of caution. Better safe than sorry, especially in a world where the culinary scene was so barren. Her food was honestly a tad too flashy—more than just high-profile, it was like everyone else was still sending letters by carrier pigeon while she whipped out a smartphone.
The sales were explosive, profits soaring, but being too eye-catching could attract unwanted attention. There might already be eyes watching from the shadows. By the time she took precautions—ditching disguises, roundabout routes, the works—she arrived home later than planned.
Ye Chengxing checked the time. The tutoring session should have wrapped up by now. She hadn’t reached the villa yet, but it wasn’t far; a glance ahead brought it into view. No lights, though. From this distance, it looked like a solid patch of darkness, not a single gleam piercing the gloom.
Closer up, the entire place was pitch-black and utterly silent.
Ye Chengxing frowned slightly.
Something was off.
Had Li Jia gone out?
She dismissed the thought almost immediately. It was too late for that.
Maybe she was asleep? But Li Jia didn’t usually turn in this early… Though habits weren’t set in stone.
With that in mind, Ye Chengxing eased the door open as quietly as she could. She even whispered her conversation with Xiao Bai and turned down its volume. When she shrugged off her coat, her movements were feather-light, barely making a sound throughout.
Once tidied up, just as she was about to head upstairs and check on Li Jia, a faint Omega voice drifted from beside her—lingering and utterly unexpected.
Even with her strong nerves, Ye Chengxing jumped a little. But she quickly realized it was Li Jia and chuckled. “I thought you’d gone to bed, so I was about to peek in. You’re still up, though. Why not turn on the lights? It’s so dark.”
Without waiting for a reply, she reached for the switch while adding, “Oh, did you have dinner?”
Her hand met the wall, but the light didn’t flicker on. Instead, a hand from the Omega pinned hers firmly in place.
In the darkness, warm breaths ghosted across her neck, scorching hot.
Her body pressed against the wall, Ye Chengxing felt inexplicably confined.
She shifted instinctively, but Li Jia’s grip tightened, as if interpreting the motion as resistance or an escape attempt.
“I saw the store had closed, but Sister hadn’t messaged or come home. I thought you weren’t coming back tonight, so I didn’t turn on the lights…” After a long pause, Li Jia’s soft voice emerged from the shadows.
No emotion colored her tone, though her mind churned.
She swallowed the rest of her words.
Truth be told, whether Ye Chengxing came home or not wasn’t her place to control. What right did she have to question where she went or why she stayed out? None at all.
To Ye Chengxing, this house might just be a place to crash.
But without her, what was it to Li Jia? Dinner was the same—just her alone at the table. Eating or not hardly mattered without Ye Chengxing there.
Lighting up the empty space would only amplify the loneliness, the hollowness, the unease.
Ye Chengxing had initially found the wall-pinning a bit odd, almost accusatory, like she’d been caught doing something wrong. But hearing Li Jia’s worry melted that away. She’d usually text about her plans, but today had been chaos—dismantling disguises, detours—and she’d forgotten. Li Jia must have been concerned.
During those few seconds of thought, Ye Chengxing stayed silent.
In the dark, Li Jia spoke again. “So… where exactly was Sister tonight?”
As she spoke, the Omega subtly inhaled at her neck.
The only thing steadying her now was the absence of any foreign pheromones on Ye Chengxing’s scent.
She knew this Alpha wasn’t the Ye Chengxing from her past life, yet she couldn’t quell the anxious suspicions.
Ye Chengxing snapped back to the moment.
Li Jia’s breath warmed her ear.
It was too dark to adjust easily, but Ye Chengxing blinked and peered toward her, apologizing earnestly first. “I’m fine, really. I didn’t go anywhere special—just took a detour home to avoid being spotted. From now on, I’ll keep you in the loop on everything… But you don’t need to wait for me for dinner. Health comes first; eat on time.”
Li Jia didn’t respond. Instead, she pressed, “Eat on time? Does that mean Sister will come home on time?”
Ye Chengxing paused, recalling the original owner’s late nights. She nodded quickly. “Unless something comes up, of course I will.”
It felt a little strange guaranteeing that, but when Li Jia flicked on the light afterward, meeting her curved smile, Ye Chengxing decided it didn’t matter. Clarity was what counted.
The dark had carried an odd, dangerous edge—aggressive, even.
Now, with the room bright, that vanished.
Li Jia breathed in Ye Chengxing’s soft fragrance, held her gaze for seconds, then her tone dipped low, laced with apology. She hadn’t released her yet, but the hold softened from restraint to a harmless lean. “Sorry, Sister. I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life. I just thought of… old times, and lost control.”
Ye Chengxing had suspected as much and shook her head. “No, I forgot to text you. And you were just worried—that’s fine.”
The shadowy tension fully dissipated. Ye Chengxing figured she’d misread it.
Li Jia looked as gentle and fragile as ever.
Must’ve been the dark playing tricks.
Ye Chengxing brushed off the incident. Though Li Jia’s actions felt subtly off, worry probably explained it.
She had Xiao Bai serve the meal and pulled Li Jia to the table, smiling warmly. “Alright, let’s eat.”
The dinner had been stored in the Smart Storage Compartment earlier; it came out steaming hot.
Ye Chengxing picked up a custard bun for her. “By the way, what do you think of the food I made? Anything not to your taste? Tell me, and I’ll adjust.”
Li Jia’s chopsticks paused briefly as she met her eyes. “Sister’s food is, of course, utterly delicious.”
Ye Chengxing knew that was the kind of answer she’d get, but the sincere praise still flustered her a bit.
She coughed awkwardly. “It’s not that great… But Xiao Li, anything you want me to make, just say the word.” With this world’s dismal cuisine, she could handle any request. Her tone grew more confident.
Li Jia’s gaze sharpened at the words.
Anything she wanted, she could ask for?
She paused briefly, realizing Ye Chengxing meant food preferences, not the deeper implications she’d imagined.
Hiding the flicker in her eyes, Li Jia smiled. “Okay. If I think of something, I’ll tell you.”
The hesitation was fleeting, seamless—no one would notice the near-slip of possessive desire.
Ye Chengxing laughed, bubbling over with today’s Gourmet Store sales as she shared the news with Li Jia.
There was nothing to hide from her.
Really, in this unfamiliar world, she felt no real belonging. Sleepless nights often left her tossing. Li Jia was her sole intimacy here—the one person she trusted, wanted to trust.
Heart-to-hearts, unspoken thoughts—she could share them all with Li Jia.
Li Jia listened intently. “As expected of Sister. So impressive.”
Ye Chengxing was growing used to Li Jia’s unfailingly positive responses, but the earnest attention warmed her deeply alongside the joy.
She curved her lips.
It wasn’t just sharing success, though.
She wanted to prove to Li Jia she was reliable, trustworthy—that she’d make their lives better.
“So, Xiao Li,” she said, “from now on, don’t be afraid. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together—not just you alone.”
