A Hidden Marriage Daily Life with the Film Empress O - Chapter 12

“Mm.”

Chang Qingyuan answered. The pain in her body was still burrowing through her in thin, lingering strands. She pulled her hand back and slowly turned over, leaving her back facing Si Beimuo.

The Alpha’s silhouette stretched into a long, thin shadow in the morning light. The collar of her sleepwear slipped down, revealing a small patch of pale back. Dark bruises still remained there, like drops of ink fallen onto snow.

“Where are the girls?”

“At my aunt’s place.”

Si Beimuo’s voice came from behind her. She was still wearing the clothes from last night, carrying the lingering smell of alcohol and exhaustion. Her chest felt blocked along with the gloomy weather. The word “sorry” had already reached her lips, yet it seemed to be caught by something and would not come out no matter what.

“I’m sleepy, so… I’ll sleep a little longer.”

The oppressive atmosphere spread between them, and silence flooded over them like tidewater. In the end, Chang Qingyuan was the first to speak. Her tone was pale, as if covered by a thin layer of ice. She pulled the blanket higher, covering half her face, using that pale voice to send the other woman away.

She was about to lose control.

“Mm.”

Si Beimuo also had nothing to say. The Film Empress, who had always stood high above others, had rarely lowered her head to anyone in this life. Two burning-hot words rolled in her throat, but in the end, she swallowed them back down.

The bedroom door was opened and closed again, and the footsteps disappeared into the corridor. Chang Qingyuan tiredly closed her eyes, her long lashes casting faint shadows beneath them.

The sunlight finally broke free from the clouds and slanted in through the window lattice, casting mottled light and shadow over her thin knuckles. It was clearly warm, yet it could not seem to reach into those overly slender bones.

She wanted to raise her hand to reach for the celadon cup on the bedside table, but her wrist felt as if it were tied by an invisible string. Just as she lifted it halfway, it slowly fell back again as if all strength had drained from it. Her fingertips did not even touch the side of the cup.

And so the sunlight continued crawling forward, climbing onto her deathly pale neck and kissing that skin as thin as cicada wings.

The wind slipped in through the gap in the screen window, carrying a damp chill. It made the curtains swell and collapse again, like a silent flag. In this quiet room, it bore witness to an unknown undercurrent of obsession.

Chang Qingyuan still lay there, like a fragile porcelain statue. Only her faintly trembling lashes betrayed that she had not truly fallen asleep.

She was waiting.

Waiting for the right moment to make this entanglement tighter, deeper.

Day after day of recuperation was like a wound-up clock, repeating itself in a dull and tedious rhythm.

The light in the room still could not be considered bright. Si Beimuo held Chang Qingyuan and stood before the full-length mirror. Their overlapping figures were reflected in the glass.

Si Beimuo was tall, only a little shorter than Chang Qingyuan, who was an Alpha.

Chang Qingyuan stood quietly. Her beautiful eyes seemed to hold a pool of lifeless stillness, without the slightest ripple. Even her lashes were too lazy to tremble.

That exquisite face became even clearer in the mirror. Even just standing there, she carried a cold, aloof air, like an artwork carefully displayed in a shop window—perfect and flawless.

Si Beimuo’s arm climbed over her shoulder, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the protruding shoulder blade beneath the fabric.

The Omega’s features already carried a sharpness. When she kept a tense face without speaking, she was frightening. When she raised a stick and smashed it down with no expression, she was even more frightening.

She looked at Chang Qingyuan in the mirror, her eyes brimming with an almost obsessive tenderness.

“Tsk. Why can’t I fatten you up?”

Si Beimuo pinched the Alpha’s bony wrist and muttered in dissatisfaction.

This person’s wrist was so thin it seemed it would snap with one bend. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, making the pale blue blood vessels beneath it clearly visible. After several days of recuperation, the bruises on Chang Qingyuan’s body had faded somewhat, but because her skin was too fair, the remaining marks looked even more terrifying.

“Yuanyuan, I love you so much. So, so much.”

Si Beimuo suddenly lowered her head and buried herself against Chang Qingyuan’s neck. Her warm breath scattered over the sensitive skin.

Before the other woman could react, she bit down hard, leaving a neat row of teeth marks on that fair, tender side of her neck. Tiny beads of blood quickly seeped out from between the bite marks, staining the pale skin red.

Si Beimuo looked at that vivid red, and a satisfied dark gleam flashed through her eyes. She even lowered her head and gently kissed the bleeding wound, as if tasting some rare delicacy.