After Transmigrating into a Scummy Alpha, I Marked the Cold Film Empress - Chapter 2

Temporary Mark

“Song… Song Qingxu?”

The name was repeated uncertainly, as if tasting it on the tongue.

Song Qingxu caught a faint trace of alcohol on her breath. Now, with her unable to even recognize people clearly, she let out a long sigh.

“How much did you drink? Why do you look like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen me?”

Thinking about it, they had been married for barely a month. Aside from their wedding day, when they spoke to each other at close range, she and Yuan Lai had never really looked at one another seriously.

Her distaste for her had been obvious from the very beginning—something Song Qingxu was well aware of.

They were strangers who had never even met each other’s gaze; it was only natural that, drunk, she wouldn’t recognize her.

Forcing herself to endure the discomfort in her body, Song Qingxu braced herself on the bed with one arm, intending to help Yuan Lai into the bathroom and change her out of her alcohol-reeking clothes.

The air in the room was thick with both of their pheromones—calling a servant in wasn’t an option.

But she had clearly overestimated herself. The moment her feet touched the floor, her legs gave way. Just as she thought she was going to hit the ground hard—
—she fell into a warm embrace, a wave of vibrant citrus scent surging into her senses. Song Qingxu was instantly enveloped in Yuan Lai’s pheromones.

Yuan Lai’s fingers wrapped around her pale wrist, her voice low and soft. “Where are we going?”

Drawn in by this unfamiliar version of Yuan Lai, Song Qingxu blurted out her answer without hesitation.

“T-The bathroom…”

Yuan Lai’s arms circled around her, half-supporting, half-holding her as they walked in the direction she’d named.

“I’ll hold you—don’t want you falling.”

Song Qingxu was already in heat, aching for the closeness of a partner Alpha. She knew full well that this fleeting warmth was nothing more than a drunken illusion; come morning, Yuan Lai would return to her usual cold distance.

So she stole what she could—like a thief clutching something not hers.

Yuan Lai, drunk and overjoyed to be holding her crush, didn’t notice Song Qingxu’s momentary daze. If Song Qingxu had looked up just then, she would have seen the grin stretching all the way to Yuan Lai’s ears.

The bathroom was even bigger than Yuan Lai’s bedroom, though she didn’t have time to take in the details before—

“I’ll help you take your clothes off,” Song Qingxu murmured.

Yuan Lai: …!!!

Her pheromones spilled out recklessly. Song Qingxu had already been biting her tongue to endure the onslaught during the walk here, but now, faced with the Alpha’s overwhelming release, her resistance finally broke.

Her gaze softened and grew hazy, tilting up toward the figure in front of her with quiet adoration. In those dark eyes there was nothing—no one—but Yuan Lai.

The raw intensity of that look tightened Yuan Lai’s throat. Her breath grew heavier, drawn in perhaps by the faint thread of honeysuckle lingering in the air. She couldn’t stop herself from lowering her head.

The moment their lips touched, Yuan Lai marveled at how impossibly soft they were—like ripe, juicy peaches that beckoned to be tasted.

She closed her eyes, savoring their sweetness, lips and teeth lingering, exploring every contour.

Song Qingxu knew Yuan Lai had completely misunderstood her words, but with her mouth captured, she couldn’t explain—so she let the absurdity run its course.

The gland at the back of her neck throbbed, swollen and fever-hot. Her breathing quickened. Her hands gripped tightly at the fabric around Yuan Lai’s wrists, her long lashes trembling with nerves.

Yuan Lai chuckled, leaning in to tease at her ear. “Didn’t you say you were going to take my clothes off?”

Before Song Qingxu could respond, she bit down on the enticing “fruit” before her.

“Mmm—”

Her sharp teeth broke the tender skin of the swollen gland, and in the next instant, the concentrated scent of citrus flooded into Song Qingxu’s body.

Her slender neck arched high, pupils unfocused, lips parted. Her fingers clamped tight around Yuan Lai’s wrists as a rush of heady comfort swept through her.

Whether from the injected pheromones or her own state, Song Qingxu grew even more dependent, nuzzling against Yuan Lai’s palm like a spoiled cat.

Their pheromones tangled completely, merging into one.

Yuan Lai’s palm slid down from the back of her head. One hand pinned Song Qingxu’s wrists; the other traced the soft curve of her waist, venturing lower.

What followed unfolded in the hush of the night, witnessed only by the pale moonlight.

The room was steeped in spring’s warmth—a night of indulgence.

________________________________________

Dawn broke.

Song Qingxu was already awake, her skin marked with faint traces of last night’s recklessness. She shut her eyes, unwilling to imagine Yuan Lai’s reaction once she sobered.

At some point, the ventilation system had kicked on. The mingled pheromones had already faded, leaving only a whisper of citrus.

It was a fresh, clean scent. She inhaled before catching herself, halting immediately with a blush.

Her waist ached faintly. She braced herself on the bed to sit up, glancing back at Yuan Lai. Sleeping, she’d shed that aloof, untouchable air, replaced by a rare softness.

In the bathroom, her body felt fresh—clearly someone had cleaned her with care. She hadn’t expected Yuan Lai to be this attentive… though perhaps she treated all her lovers this way.

Her reflection in the mirror showed lips pressed tight in jealousy. The flash of disappointment in her eyes was quickly smoothed over, her expression returning to its usual coolness.

When Yuan Lai awoke, the space beside her was already cold. She reached out to find nothing but empty sheets.

Yawning, she mumbled, “Up this early?”

The memories of last night came flooding back. Stretching lazily, she not only accepted the fact that she’d transmigrated—she began plotting exactly how to win back her wife.

First order of business: while the temporary mark was in effect, she was going to rack up as many “wife points” as possible.

Temporary marks lasted about seven days. In that time, an Omega would develop a short-lived physiological dependence on the Alpha who marked her, while the Alpha would experience an equally strong possessiveness. The bond went both ways.

Why not a permanent mark? Simple—if she tried that now, Song Qingxu would probably kick her out of bed on the spot.

Yuan Lai had read the original novel. She knew Song Qingxu had only agreed to marry the original body out of respect for her mother’s dying wish—and the original had only agreed because of her own mother’s authority. Their marriage was essentially one in name only.

Strictly speaking, last night had been the first time for both of them…

Breathing in the faint honeysuckle clinging to the sheets, Yuan Lai buried her face deeper, greedily inhaling the last trace of her wife’s scent.

If only she hadn’t turned on the ventilation last night—it could’ve lingered longer.

After searching the entire second floor with no luck, she washed up quickly and headed downstairs.

The servants, seeing her, brought a steaming breakfast to the table, wary that her temperamental young lady might make trouble.

Yuan Lai, starving after last night’s exertion, sat down and dug in without hesitation.

Her eyes lit up. “Delicious!”

She glanced at the servant still standing by. “Has Song Qingxu eaten?”

“Yes, Miss Song has already had breakfast.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s in the garden with Madam, enjoying the flowers.”

Yuan Lai polished off the rest of her meal in record time and headed straight for the garden.

In the kitchen, the servants exchanged glances.

“She didn’t cause you any trouble today?”

The one by the table shook her head, baffled. “Maybe she’s in a good mood.”

“Hope she stays like this every day,” someone muttered. “Life would be so much easier.”

The pay and benefits in the Yuan household were excellent—only drawback was the young lady’s temper. Still, plenty of people would fight to work here.

In the garden pavilion,

Yuan Lai’s mother, Yuan Jingyun, sat at a stone table holding Song Qingxu’s hands. “If that rascal Yuan Lai ever treats you badly, you come straight to me.”

Song Qingxu’s smile was warm and genuine. “Yuan Lai treats me very well. You don’t need to worry.”

Jingyun clearly didn’t believe her. “Good child, you don’t have to cover for her.”

“I—”

“All I hope is that the two of you get along. And when you have time, come visit me at the old house.”

Song Qingxu agreed readily. “I’ll come whenever I can—if you don’t get tired of me.”

Looking at the young woman’s radiant smile, Jingyun was reminded of her late friend, Song Zhilan.

“Zhilan entrusted you to me, and I’ll protect you,” she said softly, patting her hand. “Even if you never married that rascal of mine, you could still treat me as your mother.”

At the mention of her mother, the sorrow in Song Qingxu’s eyes was impossible to hide. Jingyun’s words broke the fragile dam, and tears welled up.

Since her mother’s passing, no one had stood in front of her to shield her from the wind and rain. Now, Jingyun was taking on that role.

“Mother…” Song Qingxu choked out, “No matter what happens between me and Yuan Lai in the future, I’ll always think of you as my mother.”

Jingyun’s own eyes grew wet. “I’m glad you feel that way. You never tell me when something’s wrong—you only share the good. If Wang Ma hadn’t mentioned that someone was bullying you in the circle, I’d still be in the dark.”

Wang Ma, standing behind her, spoke up. “I only brought it up after seeing it on the gossip programs, Madam.”

Jingyun’s gentle demeanor shifted to sharp authority. “Who dares to bully someone from the Yuan family—do they think I’m dead?”

“Well, well—who’s bullying who?”

Yuan Lai’s voice came from a distance, and a moment later she strode into the pavilion.

Her gaze went straight to Song Qingxu—eyes rimmed red, the telltale traces of tears still there.

Yuan Lai’s expression darkened. “Who bullied you?”

Before Song Qingxu could speak, Jingyun snapped, “If you paid a little more attention to her, she wouldn’t be bullied in the first place.”

Yuan Lai didn’t argue. She simply said, “It’s my fault,” then turned to Song Qingxu. “From now on, I’ll treat you well. I promise.” Her eyes locked on hers, unwavering.

“Remember what you just said!” Jingyun warned.

The original Yuan Lai had made such promises countless times, to the point where neither Jingyun nor Song Qingxu took them seriously anymore.

But this was different—Yuan Lai herself took it to heart.

Her earnestness made Song Qingxu glance at her again, their eyes meeting in a moment that felt like a quiet shift in the air.

Neither of them mentioned the madness of last night.