After Being Bound to the Scummy Alpha System, I Became Famous Thanks to My Face Blindness - Chapter 32

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tang Ling asked worriedly, her gaze fixed on Tan Shiyi.

On any other day, Tan Shiyi would never have said something like “Let’s go stargazing together.” She wasn’t drunk—so where on earth had that sudden burst of coquettishness come from?

“I just wanted to take a look,” Tan Shiyi murmured, then immediately felt embarrassed. “Actually, it’s not that I really want to.”

“So do you want to or not?” Tang Ling couldn’t help laughing. “Come on, I’ll go with you.”

Tan Shiyi’s eyes lit up with surprise. “Really?”

Seeing her cautious, almost fragile expression made Tang Ling’s heart soften. “It’s just stargazing. No big deal. Though, how do we even get to the rooftop?”

“I’ve been there before. I’ll show you.”

They took the elevator to the top floor. At the end of the hallway was a short window; climb through it, and you’d reach the rooftop.

Tan Shiyi deftly unlatched the window and hoisted herself over the sill with practiced ease—clearly not her first time doing this. Standing outside, she asked, “Can your hand manage the climb?”

“One hand’s enough.”

Tang Ling braced herself against the sill with her left hand, gave a light push with her legs, and leapt through smoothly.

The rooftop was clean and spacious, free of clutter or debris—someone clearly took the time to keep it tidy.

Though the building wasn’t particularly tall, it sat on the edge of the city, with nothing nearby to block the view. A cool breeze drifted by, and the star-filled sky stretched endlessly above them.

“How’d you find such a nice spot?” Tang Ling asked.

“I once noticed the window was open and came out for a look. The view was incredible,” Tan Shiyi said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Do you like it too?”

Tang Ling stretched her arms and found a low ledge to sit on. “The view’s wide, the breeze feels nice. I love it. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a clear night sky.”

“Same here. When I was little and couldn’t sleep, I used to sneak out to the yard and lie on the grass, counting stars,” Tan Shiyi said softly.

Tang Ling tried to picture obedient little Tan Shiyi sneaking out of bed—it didn’t quite fit. Then again, she hadn’t expected her to climb out of windows either. This version of Tan Shiyi—alive, curious, full of quiet courage—felt refreshingly different. Tang Ling found herself staring longer than she meant to.

“Why are you looking at me instead of the stars?” Tan Shiyi turned away, avoiding her gaze.

Because you’re prettier than the stars.

The cheesy thought popped into Tang Ling’s head uninvited. She quickly shook it away. “Do you know any constellations?”

Tan Shiyi blinked. “No. I tried matching them to a star chart once, but I always get it wrong. I can only find the Big Dipper.”

“That’s normal. The constellations change with the seasons—it’s hard to match them up exactly. Here, I’ll show you the basics.” Tang Ling pointed toward the southeast. “See those three stars forming an isosceles triangle? That’s the Summer Triangle.”

“The Summer Triangle?”

“Yeah. It’s made up of Vega in Lyra, Altair in Aquila, and Deneb in Cygnus. Follow Altair south, and that cluster that looks like a scorpion? That’s Scorpius.”

“I can’t really see it.”

“Come sit here.” Tang Ling reached out and gently pulled Tan Shiyi closer, their shoulders almost touching. “Look that way—south, about twice the distance from Altair to Vega. The brightest one there—see it?”

Their proximity made Tan Shiyi’s pulse quicken. She could feel the faint warmth of Tang Ling’s breath brushing her cheek. Her hand tightened nervously around the hem of her shirt. “I see it.”

“That curved line’s the scorpion’s tail. The two stars in front are its pincers. Kind of looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“Mm.” Tan Shiyi nodded.

“Let’s find a few more.”

Tang Ling spoke with quiet enthusiasm, naming the stars with the familiarity of someone who’d long since memorized the sky. She had been face-blind since childhood, unable to recognize people easily, and while the other kids went out to play, she often found company only in the silent constellations above. Strangely, though every human face blurred together for her, the stars never did.

Tan Shiyi watched Tang Ling’s profile as she spoke, her voice calm and sure.

Tang Ling suddenly reached out and tapped her on the forehead. “You’re one to talk. Why are you staring at me instead of the stars?”

The rooftop was vast and empty—just the two of them beneath a river of starlight. The wind was gentle, the air clear. Everything felt pure, untouched—no room for pretense or shame.

Looking into Tang Ling’s gentle eyes, Tan Shiyi felt a surge of emotion she couldn’t hold back. She suddenly stood, took two steps back, lowered her head, and said with quiet determination, “Tang Ling, I’m sorry.”

Tang Ling sighed softly, helplessly. “There you go again. How many times have I told you—it wasn’t your fault I got hurt. Stop taking the blame.”

Tan Shiyi’s voice dropped even lower. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?”

Tan Shiyi gritted her teeth, finally summoning the courage to lift her head and meet Tang Ling’s gaze. “I lied to you. It’s not that I can’t play an instrument—I, I can play the piano.”

Perhaps because Cheng Qingyan had already given her a heads-up, Tang Ling didn’t seem surprised. She simply waited quietly for Tan Shiyi to continue.

“I, because of my own reasons, I asked you to teach me guitar, and it ended up taking up your training time. I’m sorry.”

Tang Ling tilted her head slightly. “Can I ask why you wanted me to teach you guitar?”

Because I wanted to see you.

The words hovered on the tip of Tan Shiyi’s tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to bare her heart like that. Her cheeks flushed as she mumbled an excuse even she found ridiculous. “Because, I wanted to learn guitar.”

When she finished, she lowered her eyes, biting her lip tightly, waiting in silence for Tang Ling’s judgment.

Seeing the serious, self-reflective look on her face, Tang Ling felt both amused and a little distressed. “It’s really not that big of a deal. You could’ve just told me.”

Tan Shiyi had been mentally prepared to face Tang Ling’s scolding, but all she got was that lighthearted response. She emphasized again, “Tang Ling, I deceived you. I took advantage of your trust. I—”

Tang Ling interrupted, “Alright, alright. So, what if you can play piano? I’ll just have you teach me next time, how about that?”

Tan Shiyi stared at her in disbelief. “You—you’re not angry?”

Tang Ling scratched her head. “Hmm, should I be? What exactly am I supposed to be angry about?”

“But.”

“But what?”

Tan Shiyi faltered. She didn’t even know what she wanted to say anymore—she just stood there, staring blankly at Tang Ling.

The heavy weight pressing on her chest seemed to dissolve into air, leaving behind an unfamiliar sense of lightness and relief.

“Alright,” Tang Ling said with a grin, “it’d be a shame not to look at the stars on such a nice night.” She patted the spot beside her. “Come, sit.”

Tan Shiyi looked at her for a few seconds, warmth slowly filling her chest. Then she carefully sat down next to Tang Ling and murmured, “Thank you.”

The two of them sat on the rooftop and talked for a long time.

At first, only Tang Ling spoke, while Tan Shiyi listened quietly and occasionally chimed in.

She had always thought Tang Ling’s life was something far beyond her reach. But as she listened, she realized they actually shared many similar experiences and feelings.

Before she knew it, she started talking about herself too.

It was the first time she had ever opened up about her own life to someone else. Watching Tang Ling listen so earnestly, Tan Shiyi suddenly realized—maybe her life wasn’t as dull and colorless as she had always thought.

As the night deepened, Tang Ling walked Tan Shiyi back to the dorm building.

They came to an agreement: for the sake of Tang Ling’s health, they would suspend their nightly lessons until after the fourth performance. But if Tan Shiyi ever had questions or needed help, she could always come to Tang Ling.

Afraid that Tan Shiyi might still feel uneasy, Tang Ling added gently, “From now on, if anything comes up, just tell me directly. No need to hide things from me, okay?”

Tan Shiyi nodded obediently. “Okay.”

The two had barely parted ways when Tang Ling suddenly heard Xiao Nan’s voice ring in her head again. Unlike her usual cheerful tone, the system sounded unusually melancholic.

“Detected: Host’s Scummy Alpha Value has decreased by 20 points. Current Scummy Alpha Value—47. Sigh.”

Tang Ling: “?”

Tang Ling asked, “I haven’t even said anything yet. Why are you sighing first?”

Xiao Nan sounded self-reflective. “I’m just not a good customer service rep. I want to do my job properly, but I also want to ship your beautiful love story.”

Tang Ling: “…”

For a system, you have way too much self-awareness.

Then a thought occurred to her. “By the way, does your system have any kind of skin-repair function? The wound on my arm is pretty deep—it’s definitely going to scar.”

Xiao Nan sounded mournful. “It does but Host, how could you act like a scummy Alpha?”

Tang Ling: “?”

What are you even talking about? Wasn’t that your requirement in the first place?

Tang Ling sighed. “Can you move up that reward for me? I want to heal faster and get back to training.”

Xiao Nan responded weakly, “Okay. I’ll submit a request for you.”

Seeing how dejected she sounded, Tang Ling didn’t have much faith in the system’s efficiency. So, she decided to play along. “Thanks, Xiao Nan. I just don’t want Shiyi to worry about me.”

Sure enough, Xiao Nan instantly perked up, as if injected with pure motivation.

“Copy that, Host! I’ll handle it right away!”

Tang Ling exhaled in relief.

Still, she couldn’t help thinking—with how she just coaxed Xiao Nan into rearranging her task rewards, she really did act like a textbook scummy Alpha just now.