A Scummy Alpha and An Award-Winning Omega Actress Fell in Love After an Arranged Marriage - Chapter 44
Lu Xueyin clearly realized for the first time that she should be afraid of Sheng Lan.
Not the wariness and defensiveness present in other relationships.
Nor the reserved trust stemming from her inability to decipher Sheng Lan’s temperament.
But the proper reaction an Omega should have when facing an Alpha.
Especially when this Alpha would initiate intimate gestures toward her.
It was also now that she realized after confirming Sheng Lan didn’t dislike her their relationship had skipped steps.
They had bypassed the normal progression of gradually growing closer, testing boundaries to establish a safe zone, and instead jumped straight to her knowing the safe zone existed and acting recklessly within it.
She couldn’t take back the arrow once loosed. This was already live-streamed, and changing it now would only make her seem guilty.
Her thoughts wandered in circles, and by the time she refocused, a minute or two had passed.
Sheng Lan didn’t seem tired of holding her hand, still toying with the pendant around Lu Xueyin’s neck, but her eyes were fixed on Lu Xueyin.
Eyes often betrayed one’s state of mind.
The moment Lu Xueyin snapped back to attention, Sheng Lan noticed and asked what she had been thinking about.
“If I hadn’t been moving this whole time, the audience would’ve thought our stream froze.”
Lu Xueyin ignored this remark and answered the previous question instead. “I was thinking about why I should be afraid of you.”
And she had figured it out. “There’s no reason for me to be afraid of you.”
Even if there was danger, she could still draw close.
At worst, it would just be a kiss or at most, a temporary mark.
Within a legal relationship and bound by shared interests, they could achieve mutual success or take what they each needed.
Staying true to her post-hiatus style, Lu Xueyin boldly took the initiative today.
With their angles obscured, they couldn’t actually kiss on stream, so dialogue had to suffice. “I also thought about how I should kiss you.”
Sheng Lan chuckled. As Lu Xueyin leaned down toward her, Sheng Lan released the wine-bottle pendant from her fingers and raised a hand to lightly block her.
“Big sister, aren’t you tired of all this kissing back and forth?”
Lu Xueyin was caught off guard by the remark but quickly countered, “Are you tired of it?”
Sheng Lan said, “You should be asking me whether we should kiss somewhere else instead.”
Lu Xueyin refused to follow her lead or buy into her nonsense.
“Forehead, nose, cheek, or lips, pick one.”
Sheng Lan tilted her head, exposing the slender curve of her neck.
“Ear or neck, you choose one.”
Lu Xueyin: “…”
She reached out, intending to push Sheng Lan away.
Instead, Sheng Lan wrapped her arms around Lu Xueyin’s waist. “Hurry up and pick. My makeup’s about to get smudged.”
Lu Xueyin: “…”
She didn’t want to speak.
The courage she had mustered was ruined by Sheng Lan, the thick tension between them now disrupted into something lighthearted and silly.
She should have felt some frustration, but inexplicably, Lu Xueyin found this way of interacting more comfortable than forcing an artificial atmosphere.
After a brief internal struggle, she decided to indulge her whims this once.
She didn’t kiss her anywhere. Instead, she grabbed Sheng Lan’s hand and bit it lightly.
A soft-hearted person couldn’t bring themselves to bite hard even when acting spoiled.
There were no teeth marks just a faint lipstick stain left behind.
Sheng Lan burst into laughter, getting up from Lu Xueyin’s lap to examine the mark on the edge of her hand before snapping a photo as a keepsake.
“Don’t worry, I won’t wash this hand all day.”
Lu Xueyin didn’t want that promise.
Once rested, the two began their return trip.
Lu Xueyin refused the wildflowers Sheng Lan tried to give her, but Sheng Lan chased after her, insisting.
Unable to match Lu Xueyin’s steadfast resolve, Sheng Lan eventually apologized and promised not to use such dangerous poses on horseback again. Only then did Lu Xueyin accept the flowers.
Today marked the first episode of the rural-themed livestream. Compared to the countryside, the modern estate here was much better vegetable gardens and fish ponds were all well-maintained, sparing them the need to plant, fertilize, weed, or deal with pests. They could simply enjoy the harvest.
After changing at the stables, Sheng Lan and Lu Xueyin headed to the vegetable garden together.
Without a basket, Sheng Lan improvised by weaving a small one from nearby vines.
Aside from lunch, they also wanted to try kneading dough with vegetable juice. They planned to do it after the meal, letting the dough rest until evening before deciding what to make.
In a way, both of them were minimalists.
During their independent student years, they were too busy to indulge in such leisurely pursuits nutrition was manageable, and occasionally they could make meals look pretty, but kneading vegetable-infused dough was out of the question.
Choosing a rural theme for the livestream was a fresh experience for them, a chance to savor slow living while engaging with their audience.
Today’s interaction was delayed it was a pre-edited video.
Dubbed “Imperial Grain,” it had all the grandeur the name suggested.
Released late at night, it steadily climbed the trending charts by morning, earning a “Hot” tag as it moved from the bottom to the top.
By noon, while other minor hashtags had fallen off the trending list, “Imperial Grain” remained firmly in the top ten.
Sheng Lan and Lu Xueyin skimmed through the comments and reposts, switching to chronological order to refresh a few times. Satisfied with the overwhelmingly positive reception, they closed Weibo and returned to the livestream.
The scrolling comments were enthusiastic but chaotic.
Some were fixated on the “Imperial Grain”:
[Is this a hint?! IS IT?!]
[I didn’t notice before, but after watching, I think you two might be real QAQ]
[Is this still Artificial Sweetness? Are you blatantly feeding us sugar now?]
Others focused on the morning’s interaction:
[Getting better! So touching!]
[I always felt your chemistry was off, but today it clicked, your forced vibes before were too strong!]
[LOL, isn’t that why it’s called Artificial Sweetness?]
Then the discussion shifted directly to Artificial Sweetness:
[Have they gotten better at sugar-coating, or have they actually developed feelings?]
[I think it’s both sometimes scripted, sometimes genuine.]
[Ugh, I still can’t tell what’s real or fake /flips table]
This ambiguity was the biggest hook of their livestream.
Even die-hard fans often got fooled, resorting to playing along just to cope. Newcomers to the ship were constantly torn between “They’re real” and “They’re just acting.”
The original CP fans, who once aggressively pulled others into their Fake Recommendations, had evolved into expert tricksters luring newcomers with the question: “Do they look fake to you?!”
Sheng Lan, free of bias, could objectively answer: Of course they do.
It’s showbiz logic.
The more you hide, the more suspicious you seem.
The more you flaunt the ambiguity, the less people care, they’ll just call it sisterly affection.
She and Lu Xueyin were in the flaunting phase.
So when Liang Jiao warned her she might overplay her hand, Sheng Lan stayed calm. Unless they continued the act after the show, it was just standard collaboration necessary fan service.
No matter how many people shipped them, the reality was they wouldn’t actually end up together.
But she’d never say that out loud.
She gave it a like and even left a big, tacky thumbs-up emoji in the comments.
Lu Xueyin: “…”
As someone socially inept, she genuinely couldn’t comprehend Sheng Lan’s social butterfly antics.
After dinner, news came that the “Bing Tang CP” (Yan Bing and Tang Yingyue) were taking their scheduled leave.
Since they wouldn’t be around, the haunted house group activity could be postponed. Based on the maximum leave duration, it would be five days later.
Sheng Lan could roughly guess why the Bing Tang CP had suddenly decided to take leave, they were probably rushing to film their haunted house segment in advance. If necessary, they’d even familiarize themselves with the environment beforehand.
She had declared she’d unlock all the haunted house maps in the shortest time possible, leaving little for others to broadcast.
But the Bing Tang CP didn’t want to miss out on the haunted house group activity, so they planned to exploit Sheng Lan’s fear of ghosts to unlock the maps first.
This wasn’t just an adventure it was still fundamentally a romance-themed activity.
Within each small map, the focus was on couple interactions.
Plus, since it was only accessible at night, even if they hurried, it would take a day or two.
By going first, they aimed to secure the uniqueness and exclusivity of their interactions in the same scenarios.
Otherwise, if everyone followed the same dynamic one person scared while the other comforted, the later performances would fall flat.
This played right into Sheng Lan’s hands.
She couldn’t possibly drag Lu Xueyin into a ghost-slaying spree knowing full well she was terrified of ghosts.
But the haunted house wouldn’t end until all maps were unlocked, so she could only push the other two couples to hurry up.
The Bing Tang CP had already taken their leave now it was time to nudge the Fake Couple (Ji Xinlan and Meng Qing).
She couldn’t bring it up that same day, or Ji Xinlan would grow suspicious.
Sheng Lan coordinated with Meng Qing in advance and waited three more days before setting the stage.
During a chance encounter in the living room, she casually brought up the haunted house group activity.
She framed the preparations she’d made alone as something she and Lu Xueyin had done together watching videos and studying strategies.
Then she mentioned that Yan Bing and Tang Yingyue were also preparing, so when it came time for the haunted house, everyone would have to rely on their own skills.
Meng Qing promptly played dumb. “Huh? What preparations?”
“Didn’t we just need to buy an evil-warding set meal?”
Of course not, you naive little thing.
If you’re too passive, you might get dragged into playing a ghost NPC.
While other couples are lovey-dovey and sweet, you’d be stuck grunting and groaning in the background, playing a ghost to set the mood.
Who’d want that job?
To show enthusiasm, they reached a consensus: once the Bing Tang CP returned from leave, they’d take their own turn five days, the maximum duration, just like the other two groups.
After Meng Qing and Ji Xinlan left, thunderstorms rolled in, forcing the livestream indoors.
Sheng Lan wanted to discuss haunted house strategies with Lu Xueyin in person, but Lu Xueyin insisted on keeping it online.
Her reasoning? She’d follow Sheng Lan’s lead no wandering, no screaming, no impulsive decisions.
Sheng Lan was irked by her passive-aggressive stance.
Normally, she’d retaliate with sarcasm, pointing out that since she was also afraid of ghosts, relying on her was pointless.
But considering Lu Xueyin’s state, Sheng Lan guessed the approaching date was making her uneasy.
She dropped the insistence on a face-to-face talk and shelved the strategy discussion. They’d improvise on the spot worst case, they could just flee the haunted house together.
No one said they couldn’t leave, right?
Lu Xueyin tried hard to suppress her anxiety, but it still seeped into small details.
It was a rainy day, and the indoor livestream continued with signing autographs Lu Xueyin’s fans had protested, arguing that since she and Sheng Lan weren’t a real couple, they shouldn’t be lumped together. They demanded double the autographs.
Lu Xueyin, ever the fan-pleaser, checked their follower counts, calculated the odds, and agreed.
Today, her pen kept skipping, and her frustration showed as she absentmindedly scribbled circles on a blank sheet of paper.
The gel pen that worked perfectly on white paper seemed to have a vendetta against her, continuing to skip intermittently as she tried to write on the photo.
She attempted over and over, never once considering switching to a different pen.
Sheng Lan called out to her, “I have a pen here.”
When Lu Xueyin looked at her, Sheng Lan said, “Let’s trade something.”
Lu Xueyin’s professional instincts kicked in, and she asked what Sheng Lan wanted.
The request was, unsurprisingly, utterly predictable.
Sheng Lan wanted a signed photo of her.
Lu Xueyin handed her the faulty pen. “Fine.”
Sheng Lan didn’t make the exchange immediately. “Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“Aren’t you curious why I’d still want your photo even though we see each other every day?”
Lu Xueyin, ever oblivious to flirtation, replied, “For work.”
Sheng Lan laughed, her carefree charm shining through.
“Wrong answer, but I’ll still give you a new pen.”
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