Transmigrated Into A Scumbag Alpha Who Only Wants To Cuddle With Cat Omega - Chapter 17

The warm, soft sensation vanished in an instant.

Realizing what had just happened, Sang Wu’s face instantly flushed crimson. She frantically wiped her lips with the back of her hand, as if trying to erase every trace of that lingering sensation.

Song Ran’s gaze flickered slightly as she steadied Sang Wu before letting go.

When she spoke again, her voice carried a hidden undercurrent of unspoken emotion: “Close your eyes. Let’s get you dressed first.”

With that, she turned away and closed her eyes, but the vivid scene from moments before stubbornly resurfaced in her mind.

Long, slender legs were visible through the lace, the knees tinged with a faint peach blush. The entire figure resembled a white rose glistening with morning dew—pure yet irresistibly alluring.

Song Ran’s heart skipped a beat for no reason. She pressed her lips into a thin line.

Sang Wu quickly retrieved the sleep pants she had accidentally left behind and retreated to the bathroom to put them on. There, she splashed cold water on her face, letting it wash over her burning cheeks.

She felt as if even her hair was on fire.

After soaking her face several times, she resumed wiping her lips. But no matter how she washed, she couldn’t shake the lingering scent of tuberose from her lips.

Her already crimson lips were rubbed until they glowed even more vibrant.

She scrubbed diligently, still unsatisfied. Only when the skin at the corners of her mouth had taken on a rosy hue did she finally stop, turn off the tap, and wipe her hands. Expressionless, she walked out.

Song Ran remained facing the wall, showing no sign of impatience.

Yet Sang Wu found her presence deeply irritating, even though she knew it had been an accident.

Hearing Sang Wu’s footsteps, Song Ran turned around and explained, “You didn’t eat lunch, and you didn’t come down even when Auntie Liang called you. I knocked before coming in, but you probably didn’t hear it because you were showering…”

“So you just unlocked the door with your fingerprint?” Sang Wu asked coldly. “Song Ran, didn’t you say this was my room? Breaking in without permission—how reasonable of you!”

“I’m sorry,” Song Ran said sincerely. “I’m really sorry. I was just so worried about you that I acted without thinking. But no matter the reason, it was wrong. You can punish me however you like.”

“Sang Wu, I’m sorry.”

Her words seemed to lose their force, as if they had struck cotton and rebounded back on her. Her fingers curled, suddenly weak.

Song Ran observed her reaction. Instead of rushing to get the kitten’s forgiveness for her rashness, she smoothly changed the subject: “Little Flower hasn’t seen you all afternoon. She’s been looking for you upstairs.”

Sang Wu froze, remaining silent.

Song Ran continued in a conciliatory tone: “Want to go down and see her? Or should I bring her up here?”

The beautiful kitten before her reacted just like the one downstairs, not even sparing her a glance before walking away. Song Ran stood frozen, staring at the tray in her hands, a smile curling her lips.

Soft-hearted kittens are the easiest to win over.

When she went downstairs, Little Flower, who had been curled up on the carpet, immediately scooted to her feet, mewing pitifully for attention.

Seeing the affectionate tricolor cat, the frost in Sang Wu’s eyes gradually melted. She crouched down, gathered the kitten into her arms, and settled onto the sofa. Her damp hair, still unblown, was completely tucked into her headscarf.

Little Flower nestled contentedly in her lap, occasionally pawing at her chest in search of milk.

Jincheng had already entered autumn, and Sang Wu was dressed lightly, her collar damp from stray strands of hair. After a while, she thought about taking Little Flower upstairs, but she noticed Song Ran warming the meal and setting the table. Her usual side seat even held a strawberry cake.

Sensing her intention, Song Ran spoke first. “Auntie Liang prepared the meal earlier. Let’s eat dinner first, then go upstairs.”

The table was set with four dishes and a soup, all sweetly seasoned. Even the soup was a creamy pumpkin soup with a hint of sweetness.

Sang Wu hesitated. If she didn’t eat all this food, it would likely go to waste. Growing up, she often went hungry eating leftovers, so she hated wasting food.

With that in mind, she finally sat down with Little Flower in her arms.

Throughout the meal, the two didn’t exchange much conversation. Song Ran occasionally used serving chopsticks to put food on her plate. Sang Wu focused on eating, deliberately ignoring the occasional glances Song Ran threw her way.

After finishing her meal, Sang Wu picked up Little Flower and was about to leave when Song Ran handed her a strawberry cake. “Take this upstairs and eat it. Auntie Liang made it specially for you. She insisted I make sure you try it.”

It was already late, and Auntie Liang had long gone home, so Song Ran’s words couldn’t be verified. Sang Wu studied the cake for a while, then finally accepted it. She carried Little Flower upstairs without saying a word to Song Ran.

Lowering her long lashes, Song Ran slowly began clearing the table.

After everything was tidied up, she leisurely turned off the living room lights and went upstairs.

The study at the right corner of the second floor was brightly lit. Outside the window, a gentle rain began to fall. A figure sat steadily in the chair, pen never pausing.

It was a restless night.

Early in the morning, Song Ran woke up, reminded Auntie Liang to keep an eye on Sang Wu’s meals, and drove away in her discreet yet luxurious silver sports car, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.

The vast villa fell silent, save for occasional sounds from the kitchen. In the garden, various flowers trembled in the autumn breeze, while white hibiscus vines intertwined on the trellis. Soon, accompanied by a series of cat meows, the master bedroom door swung open.

As the door opened, a letter fluttered to the floor. A fluffy paw stepped on it. Sang Wu glanced down, bent over, and picked it up.

The envelope was her favorite pale blue.

Puzzled, she took the letter downstairs to ask Auntie Liang. The older woman, bustling in the kitchen, greeted her with a smile: “Good morning, Madam.”

Sang Wu stiffened.

When she first married Song Ran, the staff in the villa had also addressed her this way. But when Song Ran heard about it, she was disgusted, snapping that Sang Wu wasn’t worthy of such a title. The staff quickly understood Song Ran’s attitude toward her and began treating her with cool indifference as well.

Well, it’s fine if they don’t call me that, Sang Wu thought. I don’t like it anyway.

Hearing the title again now, she didn’t respond. Instead, she asked softly, “Auntie Liang, did you take this letter from the mailbox?”

Auntie Liang shook her head. “No, I checked this morning. There was no mail.”

Sang Wu hummed thoughtfully. As she left with Little Flower in her arms, she suddenly remembered the delicious cake from the night before and turned to thank her: “Thank you for the cake last night, Auntie Liang. It was really good.”

Auntie Liang was even more bewildered. “Madam, the cake you mentioned was made by Ms. Song.”

Sang Wu paused, her clear almond eyes filled with confusion.

Sang Wu clearly felt uncomfortable. “Right, Auntie Liang, please go ahead and attend to your duties.”

With that, she turned and left, carrying Little Flower, her steps quickening. Her white dress billowed behind her, leaving an orange blossom scent in her wake.

After setting Little Flower on the sofa, she opened the envelope. Inside fell a sheet of drawing paper and a letter.

The simple drawings on the paper depicted the events of the previous day in a playful, straightforward manner. At the end, the figure representing Song Ran knelt on the ground, tears streaming from her eyes, holding a small orange blossom. Beside it was written:

Waaah, Song Ran knows she was wrong. Please, Wu, forgive me.

Sunlight, carrying the lingering warmth of late autumn, streamed through the window. She set aside the drawing and unfolded the letter:

Dear Wife Sang Wu,

About yesterday, when I upset you and entered without your permission, I want to sincerely apologize. I’m not good with words, and it took multiple mistakes for me to truly reflect on my wrongdoings. I’m deeply sorry for the unpleasantness. I tossed and turned all night, unable to find a solution. To avoid hurting you again, I’ve decided to apologize through this letter.

I’m so sorry, truly sorry. Wu, please don’t be upset. From now on, Song Ran will always remember the family rules: never anger her wife and always cherish her like treasure. If I break them again, I’ll humbly beg for forgiveness and let you decide the consequences.

The handwriting on the letter was elegant, a mix of formal script and cursive.

Sang Wu’s expression shifted from mild surprise to shock as she read. She tapped her fingers against each stroke of the writing, her grip unconsciously tightening.

How… how can this be the same?

Could she have been wrong? Was the person who wrote to her, who cared for her… actually… actually the one who tormented her?

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