A Scummy Alpha and An Award-Winning Omega Actress Fell in Love After an Arranged Marriage - Chapter 46.1

Sheng Lan was caught off guard by the question. Despite the inappropriateness of laughing in such an atmosphere, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Lu Xueyin’s desire to take back her words grew even stronger.

Unfortunately, face-to-face conversations didn’t come with a chat window for her to undo her actions.

Not to mention, Sheng Lan had already heard it and reacted.

Just like handling unexpected situations during a livestream, even if her face burned with embarrassment, Lu Xueyin forced herself to remain composed, pretending she had asked an ordinary question. Once Sheng Lan finished laughing, Lu Xueyin fixed her with a direct gaze, silently demanding an answer.

Sheng Lan asked, “Is it important to you?”

Lu Xueyin averted her eyes.

Even without experience, she could read the subtext in Sheng Lan’s words.

If it was just a casual question, Sheng Lan could choose whether or not to answer.

But if it was important, Sheng Lan would consider responding.

Yet, admitting its importance would make it seem like she cared too much about the question.

Lu Xueyin lowered her gaze, staring at the ground as she avoided a few larger puddles. After listening to the rain for a while, she and Sheng Lan walked along the cobblestone path for some distance before she finally nodded. “Yes, it’s important.”

Sheng Lan laughed again. “No.”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend.”

On this topic, she chatted with Lu Xueyin a bit more.

The setback she faced in her first year of junior high took years to overcome.

When she left the band, people criticized her singing and playing as terrible, her dancing as vulgar. For years afterward, she carried that resentment, leaving no room for other thoughts.

By the time she became aware of the emotional tug-of-war between men and women, she already found it troublesome.

“Plenty of people lose their minds when they fall in love, it messes up their training, performances, even their songwriting. Once, someone said they wanted to set me up, and I thought they were trying to throw me into a pit of fire.”

Maybe it was just the environment she was in. First, the band scene, then the entertainment industry people came and went, and she’d seen at least a hundred couples come together and fall apart.

Together one day, bitter enemies the next. It was terrifying.

Lu Xueyin let out an “Oh.”

Sheng Lan glanced at her.

Lu Xueyin thought for a second, deciding she ought to give some feedback, so she said, “You didn’t need to explain so much.”

There was an unintentionally humorous side to her personality, still in its undeveloped state, and Sheng Lan found it fascinating.

If she just wanted a quick laugh, she could’ve changed the subject, teased Lu Xueyin a little, taken a stroll around the estate, and circled back enough to fill the livestream time without making her partner seem cold.

But she wanted to see if she could pry even a few words from Lu Xueyin, something to help her understand how to handle Lu Xueyin’s fears.

She asked about Lu Xueyin’s school days, specifically middle and high school.

Of course, Lu Xueyin didn’t want to talk about it. She only wanted to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Sheng Lan stopped walking. Out of habit, Lu Xueyin took one more step before halting.

This was when the advantage of a large umbrella became apparent even with a step between them, neither was left in the rain.

Sheng Lan didn’t push. She just watched Lu Xueyin, silently counting the seconds in her head.

If Lu Xueyin still refused to speak by the count of five, she’d drop it.

Under that gaze, Lu Xueyin remembered one of their past exchanges back when they met each other’s families.

She had answered a call from Sheng Lan’s mother and, despite Sheng Lan saying she wouldn’t go home, accepted the invitation to dinner.

That day, she performed flawlessly, using it as leverage to get Sheng Lan to accompany her to the rehabilitation center.

It had been a “forced transaction.”

Given Sheng Lan’s personality, it was entirely possible she’d retaliate in kind using Lu Xueyin’s own methods against her.

Lu Xueyin thought she wanted to exchange stories and gave a slight nod before sharing something.

“I didn’t do well in my elementary-to-middle school entrance exam, I fell short by a few points. My mom paid to get me into the affiliated school. By then, I already knew how tight money was at home. I understood what those twenty thousand yuan meant for my family, and I blamed myself terribly.”

That guilt carried her through middle school. She endured isolation, betrayal, and baseless rumors.

In her second year of high school, her old dance teacher suddenly reached out, telling her about a competition she could enter. Even if she didn’t win, there was participation prize money.

It was hosted by a new platform, offering generous terms to build initial hype.

The teacher also said she knew about Lu Xueyin’s family situation and had always wanted to help, so she reached out when the opportunity came along with a lot of sentimental words.

At this point, Lu Xueyin fell silent for a long time.

In elementary school, she used to laugh freely and cry when emotions overwhelmed her.

By middle school, no matter how much she suffered at school, seeing her mother working tirelessly at home, growing thinner by the day, she learned to endure.

Slowly, she lost the instinct to cry over small things.

There were many painful experiences in between, but she skipped over them, unwilling to speak, digesting the emotions in silence.

She had weathered all of it until the dance teacher’s words broke her into sobs.

She hadn’t danced in nearly five years since elementary school. She knew she wouldn’t win, but for three thousand yuan in just three hours, she was willing to practice basics for an hour every day just to make sure she earned that money honestly and didn’t embarrass the teacher who recommended her.

Instead, she was taken to an investor’s room.

That was the first poisoned apple in Lu Xueyin’s life, full of temptation.

If she agreed, she could get three thousand yuan every month, with bonuses for good performance.

Because of all the rumors, she had learned things no one had taught her, piecing them together from the insults hurled her way.

She refused the apple.

That day, she stumbled home in a daze. On the way, she heard someone shouting angrily, the noise snapping her back to reality. She glanced over, and her heart clenched.

“It was my mom being yelled at. She had a small food stall, and over one yuan and fifty cents, someone made her cry.”

For a long time after, she dreamed of that poisoned apple.

Wondering what would have happened if she had taken it.

Lu Xueyin lifted her gaze to Sheng Lan. “Sheng Lan, have you ever been tempted?”

The kind of temptation that would punish you for the rest of your life.

Sheng Lan had.

It was right in front of her.

Even though she knew, as a cannon-fodder side character, she should focus on surviving and staying away from the female lead, she still tossed aside reason every day, testing boundaries until she found a line then recklessly danced just above it.

Even if she only had a year, she wanted to see if she could carve out a place in Lu Xueyin’s heart.

Betting her life on it.

Lu Xueyin didn’t wait for an answer. “I think you’d understand, I can’t stop.”

Only by working could she earn money, and only with money could she buy her own “apples.”

If she stopped, too many poisoned apples would tempt her, and she couldn’t guarantee she’d resist every time.

So even if she was afraid, she would go through the haunted house she wouldn’t risk quitting halfway.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll stick close to you.”

She had a reason she had to go, but she wouldn’t say why she was afraid.

Sheng Lan knew when to stop and didn’t press further.

When your heart holds someone, you grow a weakness.

She wanted to take Lu Xueyin running in the rain, to vent some of that emotion but she was afraid she’d catch a chill.

Sheng Lan said, “How about a hug instead?”

Lu Xueyin refused outright, taking two steps back.

If it weren’t for the raincoat, she would have been drenched by the heavy rain.

Sheng Lan was both amused and exasperated, “Are you naive or what?”

They’d kissed eight hundred times already, yet she couldn’t handle being hugged.

They’d embraced before too even sat on laps with cheeks pressed close.

When Sheng Lan took a step forward, Lu Xueyin turned and ran without a second thought.

She couldn’t stand overly sentimental embraces; to her, they were harder to endure than ambiguity.

In ambiguous moments, no matter how tight the hug, there were always other actions to divert attention, the embrace wasn’t the main focus.

The purer the hug, the more it scared her.

Afraid of having no secrets, nowhere to hide.

She also didn’t know how to respond she lacked the skill for sweet nothings.

And she had just shared something from her youth; she didn’t want sympathy.

By some twist of fate, the two ended up running in the rain.

The downpour was fierce, the wind strong. While walking slowly, Sheng Lan could manage the umbrella, but running made it a burden.

Starting late and fumbling to close the umbrella, she also worried about pushing Lu Xueyin too hard and making her fall, so Sheng Lan kept a steady pace.

The raincoat was made of poor material just a transparent plastic sheet.

Water wouldn’t seep through, but it trapped sweat against the skin.

The icy rain and clammy sweat met beneath the raincoat, every movement feeling restrictive.

Any faster, and the hood would blow off.

Sheng Lan called out, “Stop running! I won’t touch you, okay?”

Lu Xueyin glanced back, saw Sheng Lan had stopped, hesitated briefly, then veered toward the horse riding area.

Under the shelter of the stables’ rest area, she leaned against the railing, watching Sheng Lan from afar with a faint smile.

“Is that big umbrella really heavy?”

Oh, it was.

Sheng Lan reached the shelter and was about to set the umbrella down when Lu Xueyin, contradicting herself, came over and lifted her arm, helping raise the umbrella again.

It was a domineering move half-pushing Sheng Lan against the wall, using the umbrella to block the camera aimed directly at them.

She stepped in deep, one leg sliding between Sheng Lan’s, closing the distance, and lowered her voice, “Just thought it’d be a shame not to use this umbrella to save the livestream’s atmosphere.”

Sheng Lan played along, becoming a mere umbrella-holder.

She pretended not to notice Lu Xueyin’s eager gaze, treating it like moving a kitten to a new home letting her adjust to the new safe zone.

Allowing her to tentatively reach out, indulging her mischief, waiting patiently until she found her footing before offering even a hint of response.

Lu Xueyin didn’t realize her personality was catlike. Studying Sheng Lan, she praised, “You’re pretty cool for keeping your word.”

Sheng Lan: “You never praised me when I crossed the line.”

What was there to praise about crossing lines?

But it reminded Lu Xueyin.

The sudden downpour, the sudden confession, and the sudden kiss.

Sheng Lan was slightly taller, so Lu Xueyin had to rise on her toes to reach.

She kissed Sheng Lan’s cheek.

When she tried to pull away, Sheng Lan revealed her “mischievous owner” side.

Having lulled the kitten into lowering its guard, she reacted just as the bold exploration began, startling the fur upright.

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