Becoming the Comfort Alpha for the Aloof Movie Queen - Chapter 13

Pheromones are Sensitive to an Alpha’s Emotions

In those few seconds while Liang Ruojing stood dazed, Ming Tanqing folded her arms, turned around, and went back into the room.

Liang Ruojing leaned her body forward, her eyes following Ming Tanqing’s silhouette until it disappeared from sight.

Sitting back down on the sofa, Liang Ruojing stared blankly at the script resting on her lap. Judging by Ming Tanqing’s reaction just now, she was likely still angry.

Liang Ruojing’s original wish had fallen through. She tried her best to gather her thoughts and push the depressing emotions out of her mind, but Ming Tanqing’s departing figure felt as if it had taken root, deeply planted in her consciousness.

She simply couldn’t stop herself from caring. She cared so much that she began to hallucinate; it felt as though she could smell that comforting scent of lilies again.

“Can I take a look at the script?”

Liang Ruojing jumped. Ming Tanqing had walked back to her side at some unknown point. She was wearing a velvet black long dress with a wide ribbon tied into a giant bow at her waist. Her dark hair was loosely pinned up, looking lazy and casual.

“Yes, you can.”

Liang Ruojing handed the thick script to Ming Tanqing. Beneath her calm exterior was an unspeakable excitement. Was Ming Tanqing going to coach her on the scene? In that moment, Liang Ruojing felt an unrealistic sense of a dream coming true.

As Ming Tanqing flipped through the script, Liang Ruojing stayed by her side, her heart thumping with trepidation. Unlike before, when Ming Tanqing had flipped through magazines with composure, her expression now was undeniably serious. Even if this play had nothing to do with her, she was never perfunctory.

“Miss Liang, are you auditioning for the role of Han Jiahe?”

Liang Ruojing: “Yes.”

Ming Tanqing looked up and asked the Alpha, “Are the annotations on the side written by you?”

Liang Ruojing was practically breaking into a sweat. “Um, just some of my own understandings. They might be a bit shallow, and there are probably many mistakes…”

Before she could finish, Ming Tanqing cut in: “They aren’t shallow.”

Liang Ruojing doubted her own hearing and looked up in shock. Ming Tanqing looked at her, a faint smile lingering at the corners of her mouth. “I’ve read this script before. Your analysis is very good.”

Wow.

“No, it’s not,” Liang Ruojing muttered, hurriedly lowering her head as her face flushed crimson. At the same time, she felt a sweet tension.

Ming Tanqing wouldn’t just be saying this to be polite, would she? Liang Ruojing felt an impulse; she wanted to ask Ming Tanqing for help directly, even though she would likely be rejected.

“Sister Ming, I’ve never quite understood this scene in Episode 24, Scene 5…”

Liang Ruojing mustered the courage to speak. She had a subtle desire not to expose her weaknesses in front of Ming Tanqing, but this opportunity was too precious.

In the next second, Ming Tanqing took a step forward, leaning in until she was almost touching Liang Ruojing. Her slender, white finger pointed to the very scene Liang Ruojing had just mentioned.

“This part?”

Liang Ruojing nodded, her heart hanging in her throat.

“Okay,” Ming Tanqing agreed.

Phew—

That was wonderful. Liang Ruojing smiled. “Thank you, Sister Ming…”

“Let’s run the scene together,” Ming Tanqing said, handing the script back to Liang Ruojing. “We start now.”

Huh? Running a scene with Ming Tanqing? For real?

Liang Ruojing was highly talented. Since her debut, directors had praised her acting for being soulful and full of spirit. An ordinary person would have let such praise go to their head long ago, but she had self-awareness. She knew her experience was lacking and her acting was green; she stood out in idol dramas, but in a major film, she wouldn’t be enough.

Especially not when performing opposite a multi-award-winning Best Actress.

“Sister Ming.”

Liang Ruojing wanted to lay some groundwork; she also needed to prepare her emotions.

“Jiahe.”

Ming Tanqing’s voice fell beside her ear. Liang Ruojing stared blankly at the person in front of her.

No—that was Sun Ying, her master.

Ming Tanqing had let her hair down and tied it into a low ponytail. She tilted her head up, a few stray strands falling by her cheeks. Her posture looked casual, yet her back was taut. She seemed destitute but remained composed.

This was exactly the underlying tone of this scene: it appeared that Han Jiahe held the initiative, but in reality, everything she did was being manipulated by Sun Ying.

“Xiao He, you found out.” Ming Tanqing let out a soft chuckle, her phoenix-like eyes looking at Liang Ruojing with a half-smile.

The image of Sun Ying, which Liang Ruojing had been unable to grasp, appeared right before her eyes.

Recalling the lines, Liang Ruojing cried out: “Master!”

Sun Ying looked at her tenderly, as if they were just as they had been before.

“How could you…” Han Jiahe’s heart was full of rage, which had now turned into endless desolation and despair.

Liang Ruojing didn’t even have to try to calculate the emotional changes; her heart was filled with Han Jiahe’s feelings. Before the line was finished, Han Jiahe choked up, unable to continue. The righteous young prosecutor hung her head.

A contemptuous laugh broke the silence. Sun Ying walked over and reached out to brush the hair away from Han Jiahe’s forehead. “Don’t be like that, Prosecutor Han. Why do you look so pitiful?”

Liang Ruojing looked up and saw Ming Tanqing’s face magnified. She saw it—the woman’s eyes were filled with disdain and nonchalance.

“You!”

Han Jiahe quickly pulled out her gun and pressed it against Sun Ying’s chest. She didn’t really want to kill her; she just wanted Sun Ying to stay away from her.

Sun Ying paused, then laughed even more arrogantly. This was the person she had trained herself.

“Kill me,” Sun Ying said, word by word.

Han Jiahe’s hand began to tremble, and a layer of sweat formed on her forehead. She was afraid. Sun Ying kept saying it: kill her.

Liang Ruojing was on the verge of tears. She didn’t know how things had come to this; only yesterday they had been inseparable. She searched Sun Ying’s face pleadingly, hoping to see even a sliver of hesitation or being forced by circumstances.

She needed that excuse.

But there was none. Under the massive impact, Han Jiahe broke down. She fired a shot, but missed Sun Ying.

“Just go!”

Liang Ruojing screamed the line at the top of her lungs, and a terrifying silence fell over the room once more.

The scene was over.

Ming Tanqing pulled off the hair tie and tied that stray strand of hair back.

“Very good, Ruojing. You entered the role.”

What?

Liang Ruojing lost her strength and collapsed back onto the sofa. Her back was nearly soaked with cold sweat. Sun Ying was no longer there, but Han Jiahe still lingered within Liang Ruojing.

Lacking formal training, Liang Ruojing had always been a “method” or “experiential” actor. She liked to imagine herself as the character and live a new life. Today’s experience undoubtedly overturned her two years of acting history.

So this was what it truly meant to “enter the role.”

Liang Ruojing couldn’t get out. She was in the Ming family home, but her soul was in that hollow phantom of a world they had just built. Han Jiahe had taken control of her.

Liang Ruojing’s heart ached, and large tears spilled from her eyes. The Alpha’s weeping was silent. Ming Tanqing watched from the side, her gaze dark and unreadable.

Liang Ruojing covered her face. She could feel the character’s emotions now. It was a sense of absolute abandonment and despair. More and more tears slipped through her fingers. She curled herself up, letting out the pitiful, wailing cries of a small, wounded animal.

This part wasn’t in the script. Liang Ruojing was crying out all her own recent grievances and pressures as well.

An obvious look of helplessness crossed Ming Tanqing’s face. What should she do? She had run a scene with a junior actor and made her cry.

“Ruojing?” Ming Tanqing sat down opposite Liang Ruojing and comforted her softly.

Liang Ruojing was immersed in a vast sea of despair. She heard Ming Tanqing’s voice but was temporarily unable to respond. Her heart had been taken away by Sun Ying. It had been crushed and scattered across the floor.

Just then, a servant came over, intending to call the two of them down for dinner. As soon as she arrived, she was stunned by the scene.

“Miss?”

Ming Tanqing turned and instructed, “We’ll be there in a moment. Thank you.”

Ming Tanqing had seen young actors lose themselves in their roles too many times. This state was something that could be sought but not always found; some directors would even force actors into it, using unscrupulous means. For example, isolating a lead on set to achieve an oppressed state of performance.

If it were one of those directors, Liang Ruojing’s current pain would be exactly what they wanted.

But Ming Tanqing wanted to pull Liang Ruojing out. Staying too deep in a role was a massive drain on an actor’s emotions and psychology. Ming Tanqing’s extraordinary acting talent was evident here as well: she could enter a role easily, but she could also exit just as easily.

Liang Ruojing couldn’t.

“Jiahe.”

Liang Ruojing looked up. Ming Tanqing stood with her back to the light, her silhouette glowing, looking exceptionally distant. With just one look, she could portray a completely different character.

Ming Tanqing walked over and proactively hugged Liang Ruojing. “Why so pitiful?”

The same line, but the emotion conveyed was entirely different. Liang Ruojing wrapped her arms around Ming Tanqing’s waist, pressing her face against Ming Tanqing’s abdomen.

“Master…”

The scent of lilies appeared again, aggressively forcing its way into Liang Ruojing’s nose. This scent belonged only to Ming Tanqing. It was impossible for Liang Ruojing to mistake it.

“Miss Liang,” Ming Tanqing spoke, using yet another tone.

The lily pheromones were working hard to emphasize their presence. An Omega’s pheromones are very sensitive to an Alpha’s emotions. Don’t think about anyone else!

The part of her that was Han Jiahe gradually faded away, and Liang Ruojing returned to her own body. Like waking from a long dream, Liang Ruojing opened her blurred eyes and realized she had cried a large wet patch onto Ming Tanqing’s dress.

She was still holding Ming Tanqing’s waist; her two hands could easily encircle it.

Ming Tanqing’s voice fell coldly from above: “Miss Liang, can you let go now?”

The pheromones also seemed subtly displeased. Liang Ruojing shivered; she was now completely out of character.