After Transmigrating into a Scummy Alpha, I Marked the Cold Film Empress - Chapter 85

◎Under the Aurora, I Tell You I Love You◎

After resting in the hotel for two days, Song Qingxu didn’t step out until the evening of the third day. The temperature had dropped noticeably, and both of them were bundled up in thick layers before heading out.

Tonight, they were going to chase the aurora.

Yuan Lai was loaded down with gear—a tripod in hand, a camera slung around her neck, and her backpack stuffed full to the brim.

When Song Qingxu came out of the room, already dressed, she was startled. “You’re bringing all that with you?”

Afraid Yuan Lai would be disappointed if they couldn’t see the aurora, she offered a gentle warning, “You know, it’s actually a rare thing to spot one. Most people never do. Seeing it’s the exception, not the rule.”

“I know,” Yuan Lai said with a bright smile. “But for me, what matters isn’t the final destination—it’s the journey I get to share with you.

“If we see the aurora, that’ll be our good fortune. If we don’t, then we’ll just enjoy everything we find along the way.”

She patted her backpack. “Anyway, I packed all the things we might need—just in case.”

Song Qingxu put on the newly bought hat—soft blue and pink, the same colors as the sky above them. The clouds were sparse tonight, and the whole sky had turned into a pastel canvas.

When she looked up, a half-moon hung quietly on the horizon, gazing down on them with a faint, silvery glow.

“You can see the moon during the day,” Song Qingxu murmured, pausing to admire the view. Yuan Lai stood beside her, waiting quietly.

She watched the moon; Yuan Lai watched her.

“Come on,” Yuan Lai said at last.

The moon reflected in her eyes seemed to draw closer as she reached out to take Song Qingxu’s hand, leading her forward.

Their pre-booked driver arrived right on time and soon they were off, heading toward the outskirts of town.

Outside the window, the city began to fall away—buildings retreating rapidly in reverse, the roads growing wider, and the crowds thinning until there was no one left at all.

Before long, the world outside became a vast expanse of white. The horizon blurred into the distant snow-capped mountains.

The road grew rough and uneven. Every few seconds, the two of them bounced in their seats, their heads nearly knocking against the roof.

The driver slowed down a little, but with their thick hats on, the jolts weren’t painful—just funny. They couldn’t stop laughing.

The path twisted and turned endlessly, and every time the car swung sharply, Yuan Lai would tumble right into Song Qingxu’s arms. When it turned the other way, it was Song Qingxu’s turn to fall into Yuan Lai’s embrace.

Whenever that happened, Yuan Lai refused to let go, wrapping her arms around Song Qingxu and holding her tight until the next turn pried them apart.

When the car hit another dip in the road, both of them bounced clean off the seat, the seatbelts jerking them back down in unison.

Yuan Lai laughed until her eyes curved into crescents. “Haha—it’s like we’re on a roller coaster!”

The driver called out over her shoulder, warning them of a large puddle ahead. “Hold on tight! We’re going to speed through it!”

Before she even finished speaking, the car surged forward with a loud bang.

Water exploded around them, shooting higher than the car itself. Looking out the window, they could see the spray arching up and raining back down, droplets splattering noisily across the glass.

“Ahhhh!”

“Ahahahaha!”

Their screams turned to laughter, and just as they began to catch their breath, the road twisted again—left, then right, then left again—each turn throwing their heads side to side like two bobbing toys.

The pom-poms on their hats swung wildly, bouncing with each jolt like cat toys dancing on strings.

“Pfft—haha!”

They exchanged a glance and burst out laughing again.

After the rough terrain, the road finally smoothed out, and the rhythm of the car soon lulled them into drowsiness. Neither knew who fell asleep first, but within minutes, both were curled up together in the back seat, two fuzzy little shapes pressed close.

When the car stopped by a wide, frozen lake, they were still asleep.

Time slipped by.

Eventually, Yuan Lai stirred awake. She blinked, glancing first at the peacefully sleeping Song Qingxu leaning against her shoulder, then at the world beyond the car window—completely dark now.

Unlocking her phone, she opened the aurora tracker app. The KP index was still low—only 3 for now—but by two in the morning, it was forecasted to rise to 6.

The KP index measured the strength of aurora activity on a scale from 0 to 9; the higher the number, the greater the chance of seeing one.

At 6, the odds were very good.

She was about to wake Song Qingxu with the good news but stopped herself when she saw how soundly the other woman slept. Instead, she simply watched—her gaze soft, lingering, reluctant to look away.

Perhaps her stare was too intense, because Song Qingxu slowly opened her eyes.

“Are we there?” she murmured, rubbing her eyes with a small yawn. The first thing she saw when she looked up was Yuan Lai. The driver was gone—just the two of them in the car.

Yuan Lai reached out to adjust her crooked hat, smoothing the pom-pom on top until it fluffed up again.

Then, unable to contain her excitement, she said eagerly, “We might actually see the aurora tonight!”

The lights inside the car were off. In the dim, narrow space, Yuan Lai’s eyes glimmered like stars, her smile so bright it seemed to spill starlight from the corners of her eyes.

They stepped out of the car.

The cold wind hit them head-on, and Yuan Lai shivered. She quickly dug through her bag, tearing open a few hand warmers and handing them to Song Qingxu.

“It’s freezing—stick these on.”

Song Qingxu was still sitting inside with the door open, while Yuan Lai stood outside, shielding her from the brunt of the wind.

Even so, icy gusts slipped through every gap, brushing against Song Qingxu’s cheeks before her layers of clothes and scarf swallowed the chill.

“Good thing we dressed warm,” Song Qingxu said, smiling faintly. “It’s much colder here than at the hotel.”

Song Qingxu wore her gloves, her palms wrapped around the pocket warmer Yuan Lai had given her. A steady stream of heat radiated from it, seeping into her skin.

“Good thing you brought these,” Song Qingxu said, smiling. “They’re so convenient.”

The two made their way to the lake. The still surface looked as if it had fallen into a deep sleep—utterly tranquil, not a ripple in sight.

They weren’t the only ones there; in the distance, a few others had come to chase the aurora as well. Small groups gathered quietly, each absorbed in their own world.

Some had lit campfires for warmth, their laughter floating in the cold air. What blazed in those fires wasn’t just wood—it was courage and a yearning for freedom.

“Are they here to see the aurora too?”

Song Qingxu’s eyes lit up. She almost wanted to go over and chat with these strangers who shared the same dream, but Yuan Lai gently stopped her.

“Look,” she said softly, “they’re all minding their own business. Let’s not disturb them.”

Song Qingxu wasn’t insistent; her brief spark of curiosity faded, and she turned back to admire the scenery around them.

It wasn’t yet the predicted hour—2 a.m.—but everyone kept glancing up at the sky, afraid to miss the moment the aurora appeared.

Yuan Lai was no exception. The closer it got to the predicted time on her app, the more tense she became. The pocket warmer in her hand was squished out of shape from how tightly she held it.

It was the first time Song Qingxu had seen such tension on Yuan Lai’s face. She asked curiously, “I didn’t expect you to be this excited about seeing the aurora.”

“Of course,” Yuan Lai replied without looking away from her phone or the sky. She didn’t want to miss even a second.

“I’m very excited!” she said, her voice trembling slightly with anticipation. “This is the kind of thing you only experience once in a lifetime.”

Song Qingxu followed her gaze upward. The night sky was studded with countless stars.

Even if the aurora didn’t appear, the view alone was breathtaking. Without the city’s light pollution and with the horizon stretching endlessly around them, the stars shone brighter than she had ever seen—dense, dazzling, each one sparkling like a cut diamond, so close it felt as if they might fall from the sky at any moment.

The still lake mirrored the heavens perfectly, doubling the dreamlike beauty of the scene.

Whether she looked up or down, Song Qingxu found herself surrounded by stars.

For a fleeting second, she felt as if the whole world was spinning around her, quietly and tenderly.

“The time’s almost here,” Yuan Lai murmured.

Song Qingxu turned at the sound of her voice. Yuan Lai’s fingers trembled slightly around her phone, eyes fixed on the ticking digits of the clock.

Her camera had already been set up on a tripod—actually, several cameras, spread out at different angles.

Only now did Song Qingxu realize how prepared Yuan Lai was. She hadn’t just come to see the aurora—she’d come to capture it perfectly.

She had never known Yuan Lai was such a passionate aurora chaser.

Before the time on the screen even reached 2:00, a sudden cry of amazement rose from the crowd.

The aurora had arrived early.

At the far edge of the sky, faint streaks of green unfurled—like ribbons dancing in the wind, shimmering and alive.

But when that miraculous moment came, Song Qingxu’s first instinct wasn’t to look up. It was to look at Yuan Lai.

Yuan Lai, who had been waiting for this for so long, didn’t lift her gaze right away. Her lips moved as she whispered something too soft for Song Qingxu to catch.

“Why did it come earlier than predicted?” she murmured.

Taking a deep breath, Yuan Lai steadied herself.

Early or not, it didn’t matter—she was ready.

She forced her nerves to settle and finally looked up at the sky everyone was marveling at. Her other hand, hidden in her pocket, clenched tightly around something unseen.

Seeing Yuan Lai’s strange expression but no real distress, Song Qingxu tilted her head back as well.

“Wow.”

The word slipped out on instinct.

The stars suddenly dimmed, the heavens turning into a vast canvas for the aurora’s brushstrokes.

Green light rippled across the darkness, dancing in waves, an impossible spectacle born of the universe’s perfect coincidence.

“It’s beautiful!”

Song Qingxu’s voice trembled with awe. She hadn’t dared hope for such luck, but now that it was happening, her heart soared. She ran after the shifting ribbons of light, laughing breathlessly.

Yuan Lai didn’t chase the aurora—she chased her.

Through her lens, the world looked unreal. The aurora her camera captured was far grander than what the naked eye could see—what were mere green wisps in the sky became, on-screen, a vast sea of emerald silk flowing over the heavens.

And in the center of that scene was Song Qingxu, running free beneath a miracle.

Yuan Lai stood frozen, unable to move or speak.

When Song Qingxu noticed and came running back, she looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Yuan Lai smiled faintly, eyes glimmering.

“I just saw the whole sky shining for you,” she said softly.

“No,” she corrected herself.

“It’s the entire universe dancing for you.”

She took Song Qingxu’s hand, pressing their palms together. The warmth that passed between them burned through the cold. Her other hand, still hidden in her pocket, tightened around the small object until her knuckles turned white.

Her voice trembled, but her gaze was steady—clear and full of feeling.

“In this moment,” Yuan Lai said,

“I want to tell you.”

“I love you.”