A Scummy Alpha and An Award-Winning Omega Actress Fell in Love After an Arranged Marriage - Chapter 54

Two days of card drawing have already passed, and the cards for the haunted house group activities are easy to guess. Three groups rotate “Roleplay Cards,” while the other two groups alternate between “Hiding Cards” and “Seeking Cards.” By extension, Sheng Lan and Lu Xueyin should draw the Hide-and-Seek cards again tomorrow. To avoid repeating the same cards as last time, they, like the Bing Tang CP, will likely choose to swap cards.

There would be no discussion of this issue tonight. It was time for an early sleep to recharge; they would talk in detail during the day.

Since Lu Xueyin explicitly stated she didn’t need company and wasn’t afraid anymore, Sheng Lan found it difficult to go over. After exchanging goodnights, Sheng Lan initiated a voice call.

“Just call me if you need anything.”

Lu Xueyin wasn’t used to this; it took a long moment before she let out a soft “Mm.” Since the upheaval in her family, she hadn’t been cared for so meticulously in a long time. She stopped dwelling on the things she had experienced alone in the past, as the grievances and helplessness of those days had nothing to do with today.

Her entire focus was on her phone. Having not touched the screen for a while, it dimmed by a degree. In a moment, it would go black, looking just as it did when locked. But Lu Xueyin knew that the darkened phone was an informant lurking by her pillow. Her breathing and her slightest movements would be heard by the person on the other end of the line.

Unlike the recording equipment placed further from the bed, where, having filmed for years, she knew the safety distance and could sleep lightly, the phone was too close. It was so close that as she quietly watched the screen dim, her heart synced with the passing seconds. She waited silently until it went completely dark, and even then, when she blinked, she could still see the ghost of that square light.

Sheng Lan was more relaxed than she was, moving as she pleased. The rustling sounds of body against quilt and hair against pillow invited curiosity, as did the very low vibration of a swallow from her throat.

Perhaps it was too quiet on Lu Xueyin’s end, because Sheng Lan called her name. “Lu Xueyin?”

Even with no one watching, it felt like being caught red-handed. Lu Xueyin’s skin prickled, and only after realizing it was impossible for Sheng Lan to catch her through a data cable did she relax. Uncertain if her momentary tension had made a sound, she forced herself to respond with a touch of “hardness” she hadn’t noticed. It was a competitive streak and prickliness hidden deep within her character.

She replied, “Sheng Lan.”

Sheng Lan was laughing, sounding lazy and casual.

Lu Xueyin thought back to when Wei Wan first proposed the alliance; she had browsed through Sheng Lan’s Weibo back then. At that time, Sheng Lan’s persona had already collapsed, and there were many memes of her online. Yet, Sheng Lan was still trying to salvage her “cool girl” image, posting a photo every once in a while in the same old style, expressionless and dressed very “A.” She was a top-tier “A” with beautiful abs and great strength.

Back then, Jiang Ling had told her that Sheng Lan’s image was actually quite sunny. Lu Xueyin couldn’t see it in the photos, though after seeing her interactions with fans post-persona collapse, she did think Sheng Lan was a bit of a goofball. Hearing her laugh now, Lu Xueyin finally remembered that the public’s nickname for Sheng Lan was “Little Sister Sheng.”

Still young.

She told Sheng Lan to call her “Sister,” adding, “Show some respect to your elders.”

Sheng Lan laughed even harder. “If you want to hear me call you Sister, just say so. Don’t beat around the bush.”

Lu Xueyin wrapped herself tighter in her quilt and stayed silent. Sheng Lan asked if she couldn’t sleep.

Lu Xueyin felt conflicted. Her eyelids were heavy, yet her thoughts were active. Her mind was exhausted, but her body was tense. She said to Sheng Lan, “Keeping the voice call on, I’m not used to it.”

Sheng Lan gave a long “Oh.” “But you still keep the recording equipment on while you sleep.”

The recording equipment was further from the bed; Lu Xueyin knew the safety distance from her years of acting. She was the type who slept very properly and still. Whatever posture she lay down in was the one she’d wake up in. She didn’t snore, grind her teeth, or talk in her sleep, so she wasn’t afraid of that. It was the voice call with Sheng Lan that made her feel…

Sheng Lan: “It’s because it’s me that you feel uneasy, isn’t it?”

Having her thoughts finished and spoken aloud by the person in question, Lu Xueyin retreated further into her quilt.

Sheng Lan told her to show her face while sleeping. “At least leave your nose outside. Don’t you find it stuffy?”

Lu Xueyin froze again, not moving for a long time.

Sheng Lan asked, “Little kid Lu Xueyin, do you know how to sleep? Do you need Teacher Sheng to teach you?”

Lu Xueyin hung up the voice call immediately. Feeling that saying nothing would seem like she was throwing a tantrum or being cold, she sent a follow-up “Goodnight.”

Sheng Lan told her to sleep early.

Lu Xueyin agreed verbally, but after two seconds of silent deliberation, she unlocked her phone and entered Sheng Lan’s livestream room before finally closing her eyes to sleep. She had few business engagements and rarely watched livestreams for entertainment; even when she did, she rarely paid attention to every detail.

Consequently, after she locked her screen, she didn’t know that the bullet comments in Sheng Lan’s room had gone blank for a moment, only to be flooded a second later by people looking for her. The flashy entrance effect triggered by her arrival was screen-recorded and posted to the Trial Love Period Super Topic, with people asking what level of “flex” this was.

The audience responded: [It’s just a drizzle, totally average level, the kind of level I’m tired of seeing.] [Did the sister upstairs not look at the name?] [Did Sister Lu’s hand slip?] An onlooker replied: [No, she has been idling since she joined.]

Before the discussion could even unfold, someone else triggered an entrance effect. This time, everyone saw the name. The chatter died down by half as everyone rushed to the scene to “interview” the newcomer.

Sheng Lan had just entered the livestream room herself. Before she could even adjust the volume, she was caught red-handed, with everyone asking what she was playing at tonight. The audience in the bullet comments was a mix of fans, passersby, and show enthusiasts. Since everyone could speak freely, the comments were hard to control. Sheng Lan spotted the key information within the small text.

Lu Xueyin hadn’t reacted at all, which meant she must have joined and then gone to sleep.

Sheng Lan typed in the chat: [After the wedding, what’s the next step? Do I really need to spell it out?]

Fearing the fans might miss it, she sent a gift to highlight her message. In the real-time interaction, she picked and chose her replies.

Sheng Lan: [I’d love to broadcast the wedding night for you all, but the production team won’t allow it.] [Just listening to the breathing is enough. Brainstorm the rest yourselves; you’re all mature viewers.]

The show’s fans were unfazed by the CPs visiting each other’s livestreams because this segment was very common in previous seasons. Because the edited versions always had titles like “So-and-so enters So-and-so’s livestream,” Lu Xueyin hadn’t noticed the entrance effects. But the audience was far too familiar with it; there was no surprise there.

Sheng Lan told them to go to bed early: [This is stuff others have played out a thousand times. Don’t wait up.]

Someone asked why she wasn’t speaking out loud. [You used to interact with fans by turning on your mic.] [Why are you afraid to speak? You’re afraid Sister Lu will hear you.]

Sheng Lan: [You don’t get it, do you? I’m afraid of waking her up.]

The fans got annoyed with her and stopped chatting, urging her to go to sleep instead. [Breathe louder, we like listening to that.] [If Sister makes even the slightest move, it is because you are incompetent.]

With so many people in the room, the bullet comments took shifts all night long. They literally listened for the entire night. By early morning, they had gifted Sheng Lan two trending topics.

#NewlywedsSleepingInSeparateRooms This referred to the livestream rooms.

#ShengLanIsIncompetent This referred to the lack of action all night.

These two trending topics were like the chicken or the egg dilemma. When people caught onto the logic bugs, it turned into a circular argument. Some said they were already in separate rooms, so Sheng Lan had no chance to prove whether she was competent or not. Others argued that it was because Sheng Lan was incompetent that they were sleeping in separate rooms.

Neither side could convince the other. As time passed, more passersby and show fans joined for the laughs, while fans joined the fray to boost the heat, keeping these two tags at the top of the charts.

Finally, the pressure shifted to Lu Xueyin, with everyone asking her to answer if Sheng Lan was competent or not.

Lu Xueyin, eating breakfast, felt a slight, stinging ache in the gland at the back of her neck.

Based on the timing of her last marking, her heat was approaching.

After her follow-up appointment, Meng Chan had warned her that because her pheromones might be unstable, she would need a marking to transition through the period.

Since the broadcast resumed with a pastoral theme, Lu Xueyin’s emotions had remained very stable. She slept early, woke up early, ate well, and felt no physical abnormalities. However, the recent emotional fluctuations caused by the haunted house, combined with the approaching date and being asked that embarrassing trending question again, left a phrase looping in her mind: “You’re a fake Alpha, you’re incompetent.”

Sheng Lan caught her flickering gaze and asked what she was looking at. “Answer if you want to, or just give them the cold shoulder if you don’t. They don’t actually expect you to say anything anyway.”

Lu Xueyin realized she was right. If she actually went to Weibo and replied, “Sheng Lan is very competent,” Sheng Lan would probably lose her temper on the spot.

Before they could chat much longer, Meng Qing came over to settle an old score with Sheng Lan.

“Your mission yesterday was to play matchmaker for the other guests, wasn’t it?” Meng Qing asked.

Sheng Lan nodded, looking perfectly unbothered.

Meng Qing grumbled, “I got the cards I deserved, and I still had to play the suona for you? You totally played me.”

Sheng Lan joked that when Meng Qing got married, she would go and play the suona for her too. “Or you two could just have a ceremony tonight. I have experience, I can set it up, and I’ll even ask Teacher Lu to be your master of ceremonies.”

Meng Qing wanted no part of it and told Sheng Lan to remember: “You owe me one.”

Sheng Lan told her to speak up soon. “Any later and I’ll deny I ever owed you anything.”

Meng Qing turned around, dragged a chair over to sit next to Lu Xueyin, and asked, “Teacher Lu, you both heard that suona performance in full. What do you think we should do about this?”

Lu Xueyin replied seriously, “I can be your master of ceremonies.”

Sheng Lan burst into laughter.

Seeing her chance, Meng Qing immediately tried to “collect the debt” by interviewing Lu Xueyin. “Teacher Lu, have you seen Weibo? What do you think of the fans’ questions?”

Though Lu Xueyin often suffered setbacks at Sheng Lan’s hands, her defense was very high when facing others, and she came with a natural passive buff for sarcasm. “You should know the answer to that better than I do. After all, you two actually ‘slept together,’ whereas we are just in separate rooms.”

This was a callback to the beginning of the show when Sheng Lan climbed through the window into Meng Qing’s room, a time when the “Double Alpha” crack-ship was trending heavily. Meng Qing felt that Lu Xueyin had been corrupted by Sheng Lan’s influence and left with her bowl in a hurry.

Director Cheng had notified them yesterday to prepare their livestream plans early. Therefore, the card drawing was moved up today, and the host arrived right after breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, the production team was pulling strings behind the scenes to ensure the cards rotated. The Bing Tang CP drew the Roleplay Cards, while the other two groups got the Hide-and-Seek cards. Since they had to plan the livestream in advance, the choice of who would hide was delayed, with an answer required before lunch.

Sheng Lan invited Lu Xueyin to the stables. As they walked, Lu Xueyin discussed the standard card patterns and finally decided to let Sheng Lan take the Hiding Card. “I will come find you.”

Sheng Lan had guessed as much last night and wanted to have a real talk with her today.

After changing into equestrian gear at the stables, they rode to the rest area. Far from the main house and the crowds, they walked along the lawn to an open space, avoiding the cameras’ audio range before turning off their microphones.

Sheng Lan didn’t agree with the plan. “Normally, it alternates so everyone hides once. We don’t have to follow the routine.”

Lu Xueyin shut down all her subsequent reasons with a single sentence: “I want to play with you.”

Judging by her personality and style, Sheng Lan was clearly the type who enjoyed excitement and playing wild. The haunted house group activity should have been Sheng Lan’s highlight. Although they hadn’t fallen behind in CP popularity over the last two sessions—and had even surpassed the other groups due to unexpected script designs—Sheng Lan hadn’t really experienced much personal enjoyment.

Furthermore, the nature of the show meant that the guest who hid would have fewer camera shots at the start of the broadcast. To maintain a sense of fairness, the production team used the alternating principle, which fans accepted. If Lu Xueyin kept hiding, her fans would eventually harbor resentment toward Sheng Lan.

“Besides, I can handle it. Don’t have reservations because of that,” Lu Xueyin added. She was an adult and could process her own emotions.

Sharing her past had lightened the burden on her heart by twenty percent. Being led from the darkness toward the light by someone else had allowed that heavy stone in her heart to finally land. As the fear dissipated, what remained were years of accumulated emotions that needed time to be aired out. Only after she left the show, visited her mother, and paid respects to her father would she be completely clean.

Sheng Lan didn’t agree immediately. “Let’s discuss the livestream plan first, then assign the roles.”

Since Lu Xueyin wanted to play with Sheng Lan, she wanted to play something thrilling. She gave her answer directly: “Hunting.”

“I will hunt you,” Lu Xueyin explained. “If I were the one hiding, the contrast wouldn’t be as interesting. It would just feel like me being pinned down and ‘beaten’ by you without any power to resist. That’s just a game of the strong suppressing the weak, like a one-hit kill in a game. It only satisfies the visual effect.”

Sheng Lan understood as soon as she heard the long explanation. “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”

What Sheng Lan cared about was the reason behind Lu Xueyin’s choice. Perhaps because her internal weather had cleared, Lu Xueyin spoke with a hint of liveliness and had mastered the art of language before Sheng Lan could even find fault.

She said, “I want you to have fun.”

It finally wasn’t “I think you would be happy this way” anymore. Sheng Lan was very susceptible to being coaxed and stopped nitpicking the details to continue the discussion.

With Sheng Lan hiding and Lu Xueyin searching, it created a great sense of contrast for the “Hunting” theme. Lu Xueyin had played the role of a morbid villain before and could handle it well.

Considering her condition and the worry that she might be affected by the environment and NPCs in the haunted house, the hunting process could be shortened.

“We can divide it into two parts: the chase during the early hunting stage, and after the catch, tasting the sexual tension of the prey.”

At the start of the show, they used ambiguous “borderline” fanservice to create massive hype. Later, to avoid being pigeonholed and to reduce the frequency of such low-level tactics, they switched to themed livestreams after their break. They hadn’t even unlocked the pool map yet.

While the ambiguous intimacy remained, it was diluted by the daily plotlines. This content wasn’t “sugar” forced into the audience’s mouths but rather something they could dig for, with a steady pace and moderate concentration. Now that the show was ending, Lu Xueyin felt it was fine to go a bit overboard during the hunting segment after having already done a close-contact dance and a ghost wedding.

After seeing the fan-edited videos Sheng Lan had watched, Lu Xueyin had privately researched past seasons and found that other CPs also showcased physical proximity. They usually started out polite, upgraded to ambiguity later, and became practically explosive toward the end.

In Lu Xueyin’s eyes, it seemed that after a month of livestreaming without scripts, the guests ran out of steam and chose easy-to-execute physical intimacy to fill the time while stimulating the fans and maintaining heat before the finale.

Sheng Lan listened quietly. Lu Xueyin’s voice carried a coldness, as if the indifference in her bones had seeped into her tone. Usually, she spoke very little, letting words out one by one. On the rare occasions she was lively, she would quickly restrain herself. Recently, her sentences had grown longer, and her throat couldn’t quite keep up, turning slightly raspy after a while. Because she was no longer on guard, her pitch was soft, and that coldness melting into it created an indescribable charm. Every word felt like a light scratch on the heart.

Sheng Lan asked her, “How overboard are we talking? When you catch me, will you tie me up and discipline me?”

Lu Xueyin felt that the word “discipline” wasn’t quite right. She looked up at Sheng Lan. There was a flamboyant energy in Sheng Lan’s eyes, her chin was slightly tilted, and her whole face screamed “Don’t mess with me.” She really did look like she needed to be put in her place.

The word “settle” was far less powerful in terms of ambiguity and tension than “discipline,” so Lu Xueyin tacitly accepted it and asked back, “Is that not allowed?”

Sheng Lan nodded. “Sure, if you have the ability, go ahead. I just want to ask you—you said you’d play with me to make me happy. Is this you playing me, or me playing you?”

Since Lu Xueyin dared to think it, she had a response ready.

“Haven’t you heard the saying? ‘High-end hunters often appear in the form of prey.’ Whether or not you can play me depends on your skill.”

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