Reborn as the Heartless Alpha - Chapter 42

Song Yi still didn’t sense anything amiss, assuming simply that because no one but herself had ever touched her waist, she was naturally more sensitive there.

Struggling to ignore the pair of hands encircling her waist, Song Yi focused on cycling.

After riding out of the school gates and merging into the traffic, Song Yi found a junction to turn off. Crossing the road, they soon arrived at the area opposite the school. She cycled at a leisurely pace, telling Zhou Zhou to keep an eye out for anything she wanted to eat, but Zhou Zhou remained silent.

Song Yi slowed down, propping her feet on the ground to brake. She glanced back and saw Zhou Zhou looking around earnestly, seemingly unaware that the bike had stopped. Song Yi watched her quietly until Zhou Zhou slowly turned her head; finding Song Yi staring at her, the girl looked slightly dazed.

“Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” Song Yi asked gently.

Zhou Zhou seemed startled by her and couldn’t find her voice. Song Yi let out a helpless laugh and said, “I’ll decide then.”

Zhou Zhou nodded blankly.

Song Yi turned back around, a smile on her lips, and cycled a bit further. She noticed a shop up ahead that looked very festive and lively. There were many servers out front promoting the place; it was unclear if it was a grand opening or a special event.

As they got closer, Song Yi saw it was a hotpot restaurant. The sign and the staff uniforms were a fiery red, making the summer feel even more intense.

“Is hotpot okay?” Song Yi kept her face slightly turned away from Zhou Zhou, afraid that a sudden turn might scare her again.

Perhaps because she had intimidated many subordinates in the past, she was habitually reflecting in this way, never considering any other possibilities.

“Yes,” Zhou Zhou agreed without a second thought. As long as she was with Ms. Song, she could eat anything.

Song Yi parked the bike under the shade of a tree, and those very noticeable small hands finally left her waist.

A server approached them enthusiastically, explaining that they had a themed event today with great discounts, lucky draws, and other benefits, strongly recommending they give it a try.

Song Yi glanced at Zhou Zhou. “There are two of us. Do you have a recommended set menu?”

“Yes! We have our theme set today at half price, and there’s a ‘challenge’ game too.” The server’s face was full of warmth, her right hand held in a constant inviting gesture as she led them to the second floor. She looked excited, but her heart was racing even faster—this was the first same-sex couple their shop had welcomed today.

The owner of this hotpot restaurant and many of the staff belonged to the LGBTQ+ community. The owner frequently organized couple-themed events to provide an inclusive space for same-sex couples who might otherwise fear social judgment.

The shop had only been open for a week. While they welcomed same-sex couples, most of the customers so far had been heterosexual. Even in an ABO world, heterosexuality remained the vast majority; society generally believed that such unions produced offspring with superior genetic advantages. Many who chose same-sex partners during dating would still prioritize opposite-sex partners when it came to marriage.

Seeing an affectionate couple arrive on a bicycle, the server was naturally thrilled.

The most immediate impression Song Yi and Zhou Zhou had of the place was its sheer enthusiasm. From the decor to the service, everything felt “hotter than fire.” They didn’t know the deeper meaning behind it, and the server, mindful of the customer experience, wouldn’t proactively bring up such a sensitive topic.

Upon reaching the second floor, all three stopped. The path ahead had suddenly vanished. For a split second, Song Yi thought the server had led them the wrong way. Before them was a steel cable bridge suspended in mid-air, looking like a scene from an escape room.

Zhou Zhou had better eyesight and looked a bit further. Beyond the cables, she could see the dining area on the other side. She could even see a single rose in a white vase on one of the tables.

“If you two ladies can cross this cable bridge, you can dine on the other side,” the server explained.

Song Yi looked down. It was a one-story drop, with fluffy toys spread out below. Underneath the toys, there were likely other shock-absorbing and fall-prevention measures.

“Is this a requirement for the half-price discount?” Song Yi asked. She didn’t want Zhou Zhou to take a risk for a discount, especially since she didn’t know if Zhou Zhou was afraid of heights.

“No.” The server’s eyes crinkled into slits as she smiled. “This game was designed by our owner. The goal is to enhance the bond between participants. During the process, the participants need to cooperate and coordinate with each other.”

Song Yi looked puzzled. She turned to Zhou Zhou and, to her surprise, saw the girl looking eager. It seemed she wasn’t afraid of heights. Relieved, Song Yi asked, “Do you want to play?”

“It’s up to you, Ms. Song. Whatever you’d like,” Zhou Zhou said, her eyes blinking with a glimmer of anticipation.

Song Yi laughed. “Then let’s try it.”

It was only when Zhou Zhou stepped onto the thin steel cable that she began to feel afraid. Song Yi had done bungee jumping and skydiving from thousands of meters in the past; a one-story drop held no threat for her. She hadn’t expected Zhou Zhou to be scared.

Song Yi’s hands gripped the upper cables, her feet moving swiftly as if she were walking on level ground. Halfway across, she noticed Zhou Zhou had stopped, so she immediately turned back. Zhou Zhou was clinging to a cable, suspended in mid-air with no help in sight, trembling all over. She looked pitiable and helpless.

Song Yi recalled an internet phrase she hadn’t understood before: “The skill is low, but the addiction is high.” Cowardly people who insist on watching horror movies while screaming, or people with a fear of heights who insist on trying thrilling activities. Song Yi used to think this was just self-torture—looking for trouble.

But looking at Zhou Zhou now, she strangely only found her adorable and endearing.

“Zhou Zhou.”

Song Yi didn’t overthink it. She called out softly, standing on the cable ahead of Zhou Zhou, with only about thirty centimeters between them. Zhou Zhou looked up at her with an incredibly apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Ms. Song. I think I’m holding us back.”

Song Yi’s lips curved into a smile. She hooked her right foot back, pulling the cable Zhou Zhou was standing on closer to her own.

The distance closed rapidly. Holding the upper cable with one hand, she reached out to Zhou Zhou with the other, signaling for her to take it.

Zhou Zhou shook her head slightly, still terrified. But just then, her stomach let out a growl. She was both scared and embarrassed, wishing she could find a hole to crawl into. But she was hanging in mid-air, and the only things she could grasp were the cables and the hand Ms. Song was offering.

She kept both hands tightly on a single cable, not daring to move an inch.

“Close your eyes,” Song Yi told her. “If you’re scared, don’t look down.”

Zhou Zhou obediently closed her eyes. The next moment, a strong arm encircled her waist and lifted her slightly. Her heart leapt into her throat. Her body was moving forward; soon, her feet landed back on a cable, and her heart settled.

“You can open your eyes now,” Song Yi said.

Zhou Zhou opened her eyes and realized she had indeed moved forward one cable. Her hands were still gripping the cable behind her; Ms. Song was standing on both cables at once, one arm around Zhou Zhou’s waist to maintain their balance.

An undeniable warmth spread through her. Zhou Zhou lowered her head and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You can trust me.” Song Yi looked at Zhou Zhou’s hands still gripping the upper-rear cable, her voice low and tender. “Now, let go of the cable behind you.”

Zhou Zhou let go immediately. Lacking that support, her body began to shake again.

“If you’re really scared, you can… wrap your arms around my neck,” Song Yi said, turning her head with a hint of awkwardness. “Though if you do, I might not have enough strength and we might both fall. But…” But nothing would happen.

Before she could finish, Zhou Zhou wrapped her arms around Song Yi’s neck and whispered, “I trust you, Ms. Song.”

Song Yi looked ahead and then down. She couldn’t lose face in front of Zhou Zhou.

With her right arm around Zhou Zhou’s waist and her left hand gripping the upper cable, Song Yi began to move. She walked fast and steady; her long legs allowed her to cross two cables in a single stride. Soon, she completed the task and stood on level ground once more.

“We’re here, Zhou Zhou.” Song Yi’s hand moved from Zhou Zhou’s waist to pat her back gently. She stepped away and lightly rubbed her neck. Zhou Zhou opened her eyes and quickly withdrew her hands from Ms. Song’s neck. Perhaps because she had held on too tight in her fear, there were noticeable red marks left on Ms. Song’s neck.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She didn’t know how long it would take for the marks to fade; should she tell Ms. Song now?

Meanwhile, Song Yi was looking around. She didn’t see the server, but she saw a long green table paired with a red sofa. In a white vase on the table, a fiery red rose was in full bloom, with crystal-clear water droplets clinging to its petals.

Zhou Zhou also noticed the dining environment. It felt like sitting on the edge of a cliff, giving off a sense of “surviving a catastrophe” romance. But that was only because she was so “low-skill”; if Ms. Song had been alone, it would have been effortless. She had just been like a dead weight slowing Ms. Song down.

“Ms. Song, I’m sorry,” Zhou Zhou said guiltily. Song Yi looked away from the rose and asked in confusion, “Why are you saying sorry?”

“The server said this game required two people to cooperate. I’m not afraid of heights, so I could help you. If it were me who was afraid, you would definitely help me too, right, Zhou Zhou?”

“Yes,” Zhou Zhou nodded emphatically.

“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.” Song Yi looked at Zhou Zhou, a gentle smile always on her face. “You don’t need to apologize to me all the time from now on.”

“…Okay,” Zhou Zhou responded vaguely. She was a bit confused; she felt that if she made a mistake and caused trouble, what else could she say if she didn’t apologize?

“Sit down first.” Song Yi led Zhou Zhou to the sofa on the inside against the wall, while she sat with her back to the “cliff.”

Finally, the server reappeared with the pot and ingredients—the default split-broth pot.

Song Yi noticed a hidden door in the wall. Faint sounds of a crowd came from where the server had emerged, seemingly where most of the guests gathered.

Once the ingredients were laid out and the pot began to boil, the server prepared to leave through the hidden door again. Song Yi stood up and followed her out. Beyond the door, she saw a completely different scene.

It was a spacious, bright restaurant with dozens of tables, almost all full. The aroma of hotpot filled the air; guests were chatting and eating, and servers moved between them. This is a normal hotpot restaurant, Song Yi thought.

“Is something wrong, guest?” The server noticed she had followed and stopped to ask if she needed help.

Song Yi was silent, observing for a few seconds before shaking her head. “It’s nothing. Go ahead with your work; don’t mind me.”

The server walked away with a smile, telling Song Yi to call them if she needed anything.

Song Yi walked back through the hidden door to the “cliffside.” Zhou Zhou was waiting for her on the red sofa. She sat back in her spot and looked at the dew-covered rose on the table, realizing this place was indeed different from the outside.

“Ms. Song, did something happen?” Zhou Zhou asked with concern. She had only seen Ms. Song go out with the server for a moment and didn’t know what she had been doing.

“It’s nothing,” Song Yi smiled.

The hotpot was boiling now. Song Yi began adding ingredients—first the vegetables that take longer to cook, like lotus root and lettuce slices, into the tomato broth on the non-spicy side, and then the beef slices into the red oil broth.

Zhou Zhou sat upright, not moving a muscle. She could sense Ms. Song had something on her mind, but she didn’t ask; she had no right to pry into Ms. Song’s privacy.

Song Yi dipped a piece of cooked beef and gave it to Zhou Zhou. Seeing several bowls of pre-mixed dipping sauces nearby, Song Yi asked, “Can you eat spicy food?”

Zhou Zhou nodded. Song Yi was momentarily lost in thought; the broth boiled over, and hot soup splashed onto her hand. She jerked her hand back.

“Ms. Song, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

But Zhou Zhou had already stood up. She dampened a tissue with water, walked over, and gently wiped it for her.

Song Yi let Zhou Zhou wipe the soup stains away as she recalled the server’s enthusiastic expression, the cable bridge challenge, and the fiery red rose on the table.

She and Zhou Zhou had been mistaken for a couple.

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