The Unlucky Alpha and Her Hard-to-Please Omega - Chapter 7

Every day after the official start of filming went by in a blur. Aside from the standard shooting schedule, Director Wu Han had brought in a professional from the police department to act as an action consultant for Song Yi. In Lingering Smoke, Song Yi’s character, Ran Mo, was a quintessential academic elite; every move she made had to look like a textbook illustration of police protocol. To meet that standard, Song Yi had to endure a fair share of hardship.

“Raise the gun. Yes, just like that. Watch the angle of your arms. Good, good. Move forward, keep your eyes steady.” The consultant barked instructions, walking alongside Song Yi as she practiced.

Song Yi was rehearsing her blocking for the next day’s scene.

The September air carried the final, sweltering tail-end of midsummer, accompanied by the incessant drone of cicadas. Song Yi’s stiff uniform wrapped her body tightly, her collar buttoned primly to the very top. Shen Yu, dressed in her own breezy, midriff-baring private clothes, stood crookedly to the side, watching. Beads of sweat slid from the tips of Song Yi’s hair, dripping onto her chest.

“Tsk, look at that hard worker,” Shen Yu remarked, tilting her head back to gulp down a large mouthful of ice-cold lemonade, letting out an exaggerated, satisfied sigh.

Song Yi kept her eyes fixed straight ahead.

Since joining the production, Song Yi had barely filmed any one-on-one scenes with Shen Yu, aside from that finale they shot on the first day. She couldn’t understand how, even after the official start of filming, Shen Yu still managed to spend her days idling about, playing with the set cats and dogs. To have talent but waste it… Song Yi detested people like that.

“Alright, alright, take a break from the practice. A friend of mine is visiting the set, so I’m going to grab him to take some promotional shots for us.” Director Wu walked in with a joyful stride, accompanied by a long-legged photographer dressed in all black. One step from the photographer covered the distance of two of Wu’s.

The photographer had the industry-standard long hair and a hazy, hesitant look in his eyes. From head to toe, he exuded an aura of high-brow elegance that screamed he was not the same breed of person as Wu Han. It was a mystery how someone like Wu Han had managed to make such a friend.

“Come, come, Teacher Song, Teacher Shen. Since you haven’t taken off your makeup yet, let’s strike a pose.” Director Wu enthusiastically grabbed his two leads, pulling them together. He then whispered in a voice only the three of them could hear: “Make the most of this. He’s incredibly expensive.”

Marketing and promotion for Lingering Smoke weren’t usually things Director Wu handled personally, and the official announcement photos had already been shot and were waiting for an auspicious day to be released. No one knew this man in black’s background, but it was just a few photos; the actresses naturally didn’t object.

The photographer looked around and casually plucked a rose from the set props. From a pocket at his waist, he pulled out a dagger. The blade flashed with a cold light as he spun it between his fingers before it landed steadily back in his hand. Shen Yu’s eyes instantly lit up.

With two swift slashes, the photographer trimmed the rose stem until it looked like a sharp weapon. Then, pointing the tip toward himself, he handed the flower to Shen Yu.

So pretentious, Song Yi thought, pursing her lips. Shen Yu has finally met her match.

Shen Yu changed back into her character’s white lab coat, her soft, wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. Dressed in the purest white and holding the most intense red, she looked down and smiled at the photographer. Song Yi had to admit that whenever Shen Yu slipped into character, her physical allure was undeniably captivating.

Song Yi sat in the chair Director Wu had prepared. The background was the set of Dr. Yu’s clinic. The hair at her temples was damp with sweat and clung to her face. Following the photographer’s cues, her gaze grew hazy, as if covered by a moist fog. Dressed in her police uniform, she looked as innocent as a child. Shen Yu paced behind her, the ambiguous petals of the rose brushing against her cheek. The fragrance swirled around her nose, leaving her completely unaware that the sharp stem was about to pierce her heart.

Click…

The photographer captured the moment, shifting his angle. He was a man who told stories through frames.

“Good. Let’s change locations,” the photographer said.

He seemed particularly fond of the temporary psychological clinic set. On the way there, Director Wu had given him a brief synopsis of the story. The moment he saw Song Yi and Shen Yu in costume, inspiration had flooded him.

The photographer requested that Song Yi lie down on Yu Rong’s therapy bed fully clothed. She rubbed her eyes to make the whites bloodshot. She stared upward, devoid of sleepiness, while Dr. Yu played by Shen Yu, undid her own necktie and used it to blindfold her.

After finishing the set, the photographer flipped through the shots, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.

“That’s enough. There’s a problem,” he said.

“What problem? They look great,” Wu Han said, confused.

“Look at their eyes. It’s all technique, no emotion.” The photographer pointed it out to the director.

The effect he wanted was for Officer Ran’s trust to be laced with suspicion, and for Dr. Yu’s murderous intent to be tinged with love. However, the two women in the photos didn’t give him that complexity.

Wu Han leaned his shaggy head toward the screen, studying the shots with the photographer for a long time. Then, his own eyebrows began to knit together.

He was thinking of more than just the photos. He remembered how Song Yi and Shen Yu had nearly come to blows at the dinner table on their first meeting. He recalled a colleague from the PR department mentioning that there seemed to be some friction between the two.

This could be a problem…

There are still intimate scenes coming up…

“Cough, well, let’s leave it at that for now. See what you can do in post,” Wu Han said, rubbing his nose.

“It’s not a post-production issue. Photos like these have no soul.”

“Fine, fine. That’s a wrap for today. Let’s go eat.” Wu Han nudged the photographer toward the catering truck. “You came all this way; I can’t let you go back on an empty stomach.”

The Lingering Smoke crew wasn’t short on cash, and the daily boxed meals were quite lavish. Today, they had black-boned chicken soup ordered from a nearby hotel, slow-simmered for three hours with red dates and goji berries. It was very nourishing. Song Yi’s young assistant lifted the lid of the clay pot for her, and the aroma of meat rushed out. The soup was clear, with only a few stray drops of oil floating on top.

“I made sure to tell them skim all the oil off. It’s definitely light and won’t make you gain weight,” the assistant chirped, looking for praise.

Song Yi sat down and unbuttoned her prim collar. The summer heat made her feel stifled, as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Facing the hot soup, she truly had no appetite. If it weren’t for her assistant watching expectantly, Song Yi wouldn’t have taken a single sip.

Taking a shallow taste, she detected an indescribable gamey smell. The residual oil in her mouth felt like a film, sticking her tongue to her lips.

Shen Yu took off her white coat and sat down nearby, rolling up her sleeves to reveal the subtle traces of training on her arms. Purely out of reflex, she winked at Song Yi’s assistant, enjoying the cute way the young girl flustered, before picking up her bowl and draining more than half in one go.

As Shen Yu set the bowl down, the light reflected off the rippling surface of the liquid. Her bowl looked even greasier than Song Yi’s, and a wave of nausea instinctively surged in Song Yi’s throat.

She covered her mouth and stood up as fast as she could, bolting for the restroom. The moment she bent over, it was as if a switch had been flipped inside her. Gastric acid mixed with the single sip of soup she’d just swallowed came pouring out. She hadn’t eaten much for her last meal and had gone nearly eight hours without food; this bout of vomiting felt like it was going to turn her inside out.

Song Yi crouched on the floor, unable to recover for a long time. She forced herself up, wanting to turn on the faucet to wash her hands. On the way to the sink, dark shadows began to appear in her vision, spreading rapidly from the periphery to the center. Her legs went weak, and she lost all control of her body.

“Song Yi!”

She heard a very familiar cry of alarm so familiar that even in the moment of losing consciousness, the last shred of her awareness recognized it as Shen Yu.

Tsk, how embarrassing. Fainting in front of Shen Yu… for the second time.

Song Yi opened her eyes to see Shen Yu’s head hovering directly above her. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but it likely wasn’t long, as she was still lying on the restroom floor.

Yes, on the restroom floor. Shen Yu hadn’t caught her. She hadn’t woken up in Shen Yu’s arms.

Clearly, one shouldn’t harbor any fantasies about a sober Shen Yu.

Song Yi slowly pushed herself up. Theoretically, given her position, her head should have hit the floor when she fell. It seemed she was lucky and nothing serious had happened; it didn’t even hurt much, though her vision was still swimming with white spots and her head felt heavy.

“I’m telling you, you should really go to the hospital,” Shen Yu said.

Strange. This person actually knew how to show concern.

“If you die on set, I won’t know how to explain it to your family,” Shen Yu continued.

Song Yi’s face darkened. She knew it nothing good ever came out of Shen Yu’s mouth.

“You don’t need to explain anything. What would you even say?” Song Yi slapped away Shen Yu’s intrusive hand and wobbled to her feet, checking the mirror to see if her face was bruised.

“And shut your crow’s beak. I won’t die even if you do,” Song Yi snapped.

Shen Yu: “Then what happened?”

Song Yi: “Low blood sugar.”

Song Yi sounded certain, but she wasn’t so sure in her heart. She knew what low blood sugar felt like. When she was younger and threw a tantrum, she had once locked herself in her room for two days without eating. Eventually, she’d broken out in a cold sweat and her hands had started shaking, scaring her family half to death. That was low blood sugar.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her lately. She was plagued by sudden bouts of vomiting. The first few times, she could blame it on reading forensic textbooks or simply being disgusted by Shen Yu, but this time… that bowl of chicken soup… it shouldn’t have happened.

Song Yi didn’t dislike chicken soup. Shen Yu and the others had enjoyed it immensely. The problem could only lie with her own body.

“I told you at lunch to eat, but you wouldn’t. Look, karma’s come for you,” Shen Yu muttered, following her out and prattling on annoyingly.

“Shen Yu, why are you so talkative lately?” Song Yi, already worried about her health, couldn’t help but want her to shut up.

Shen Yu’s eyes widened, and she clutched her chest in disbelief. “Song Yi, are you even human? I’m giving you ‘bitter but honest’ advice here!”

“Look at my shoulder!” Shen Yu pulled down her collar, pointing to a large red mark on her skin, practically shoving it in Song Yi’s face.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be in a hospital bed right now!” Shen Yu fumed.

“With an attitude like that, I should have just let you fall. Should have let you crack your head open…” Shen Yu grumbled, neatly straightening her collar and stalking off.

Shen Yu’s skin was very fair, so the large red mark looked startling. It would likely turn into a bruise by morning. For once, Song Yi felt a twinge of regret after snapping at her.

She must have lunged forward to catch me and fell with me. She was… reasonably a good Alpha, after all.

Song Yi walked back to the catering area. Everyone was looking at her; her sudden flight to the restroom had definitely looked suspicious.

“I think my blood sugar just dropped a bit. No need to worry,” Song Yi said with an apologetic smile.

“Exactly, don’t worry about Song Yi. It only brings misfortune,” Shen Yu muttered through gritted teeth. She picked up the bowl of soup Song Yi had barely touched, shot her a look, and drained it to the last drop.

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