After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 29.2

“You would better keep that mouth of yours shut,” Mo Tian said with a cold sneer. “Might let you live a few more days.”

She wiped her gloved fingers on the suit of the person standing behind her.

“Take her away.”

That night, as the first snow fell, Chi Yang took a long hot bath, changed clothes, then warmed a pot of ginger tea. She curled up by the floor-to-ceiling window, sipping tea while scrolling through the script Ye Ci had sent her.

Steam rose from the teacup, misting the window until it turned milky white.

Outside, snowflakes fell in large clusters, sticking to the window ledge and quickly piling into a tiny mound.

Her fingertip lazily traced across the script—until she couldn’t resist anymore. She tapped into the video of “Pei Jiuyao.” After a few seconds, she tensed and immediately turned off the screen.

Outside, strands of yellow-orange lights dangled from the bare branches, twinkling like tiny embers beneath the snowfall.

Chi Yang stared into the distance, lost in thought. The roads tonight were probably hard to navigate. Xingchong Entertainment was at least a two-hour drive from here.

The indemnity had been signed, but the trending topic hadn’t been clarified yet.

Something about it all irritated her. She sent a message to that “Unknown Number” — Mo Tian:

[Why hasn’t Tianji issued a lawyer’s letter yet?]

Mo Tian replied not long after:

[Miss Chi, you ripped out my subordinate’s gland, and you still want me to take down the trending post?]

[If I’d known this was how it would end, I’d have just handed her over to the cops.]

Gland?

[What the hell is wrong with you? I only gave her a beating. Compared to what she tried to do to me, that’s nothing.]

No response came after that. Chi Yang scrolled through the trending topics, then flung her phone onto the sofa in frustration.

The Omega Protection Association had gotten involved. If any of those actors said one more thing, Pei Jiuyao would probably be taken in for investigation.

She knew Mo Tian was a monster—but she didn’t think she’d actually break her promise.

Ding-ding.

The front door creaked open.

A moment later, Pei Jiuyao peeked her head inside.

“Chi Yang, you’re home?”

She stood hesitantly at the door.

“Why didn’t you turn on the lights?”

Uh-oh. She’s probably mad.

She’s not going to kill me… right?

Pei Jiuyao clung to the doorframe and shivered.

Although Chi Yang had always come across as a calm, cool beauty with a “good temper,” occasionally even soft and clingy like a little fox in need of affection…

Pei Jiuyao couldn’t shake the feeling that Chi Yang had serious villain potential.

Probably trauma left over from reading the original novel.

Chi Yang was sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window. Since it was snowing, the outside glow lit up the room enough to see clearly without switching on the lights.

Pei Jiuyao could see her hugging that pink floral bunny—expression unreadably calm.

A perfectly intact bunny. Head still attached.

Pei Jiuyao let out a small breath.

Maybe she could survive tonight.

“Xiao Li.”

Pei Jiuyao walked in with a bright smile and sat down across from her.

“How did the trial go?”

She’d already seen the trending posts on her way back—Chi Yang had issued a letter of indemnity.

The buzz online was clearly orchestrated by Mo Tian.

Still, no matter how they tried to spin “forgiveness,” Chu Si’s career was done for.

But Pei Jiuyao needed to find an angle—something to ease into the topic.

She didn’t want another screaming match with Chi Yang.

The last one had ended with Chi Yang pulling out all kinds of dangerous “weapons,” and Pei Jiuyao sobbing as she screamed, “That thing has nothing to do with me—I’m not even ‘Pei Jiuyao’!”

Once was enough.

Tonight, she just needed to stay calm.

“Didn’t go well,” Chi Yang replied.

Pei Jiuyao blinked. “Something unexpected happen? I saw you submitted the indemnity letter.”

“There was some trouble on the Chi family’s end.”

Chi Yang didn’t elaborate. She took a sip of ginger tea and changed the subject.

“How’s recording going?”

“It’s okay.”

She had clearly planned to explain everything the moment they met.

But with Chi Yang so calm, Pei Jiuyao suddenly didn’t know how to bring up the video.

She could only wait for Chi Yang to ask.

Yet it seemed Chi Yang had no intention of asking at all.

“It’s cold today. I made some ginger tea. Go have a cup—it’ll warm you up.”

“Okay.” Pei Jiuyao casually picked up Chi Yang’s teacup, then fetched a glass from the cabinet. After pouring the tea, she brought it back over.

She could wait until Chi Yang couldn’t hold back and asked.

But Pei Jiuyao wasn’t that impatient. On the contrary, in moments like this, she could remain incredibly composed.

Still, forcing Chi Yang to be the one to bring it up would only be torture for both of them.

It was better to take the initiative.

Pei Jiuyao downed her cup of ginger tea, paused for a moment, then decided to get straight to the point.

“You saw the trending video about me, didn’t you?”

Chi Yang lowered her gaze. Her hand, which had been reaching for the cup, instead gripped it tightly.

“I saw it,” she replied, voice as cold and steady as ever, her eyes unreadable.

But if one looked closely, there was something evasive in her pupils—a quiet reluctance to enter the topic.

Pei Jiuyao asked, and Chi Yang answered. There was no sign she intended to say anything more.

Pei Jiuyao suddenly realized: at some point, Chi Yang’s attitude toward her had changed.

“If I say that person wasn’t me, are you just going to think I’m lying again?”

Chi Yang stood, picked up her phone, and handed it to her. “Someone sent me the original video—uncensored, high resolution.”

She hesitated for a second before pressing play, then gave a small, bitter smile.

Pei Jiuyao thought that smile looked a little… lonely.

She took the phone. She had watched the video countless times already, but that final face still struck a nerve.

Seeing that identical face on screen, Pei Jiuyao was overwhelmed by a mix of emotions.

She shut off the phone. “I have evidence. But…”

But it wasn’t conclusive. Everything depended on whether Chi Yang was willing to believe her.

Pei Jiuyao had no real confidence—Chi Yang had never truly trusted her.

She had tested the waters many times, claiming she wasn’t the same “Pei Jiuyao” as before.

But judging by Chi Yang’s reactions, she probably just thought it was another trick.

“But what?” Chi Yang took the phone back, set it aside, and asked, “What is it?”

“I don’t know if you still believe me.”

Even as she said it, Pei Jiuyao found the question ironic. Chi Yang had never believed her—how could there be a “still”?

But to her surprise, Chi Yang said:

“If you explain, I’ll believe you.”

Pei Jiuyao looked up at her, suddenly shaken.

She stood, took off her T-shirt, and turned around, reaching up to undo her bra clasp.

Chi Yang’s lashes fluttered. She quickly averted her gaze, flustered. “What are you doing?”

Pei Jiuyao undid her bra and glanced back. Chi Yang was still avoiding eye contact, the tips of her ears slightly red.

With a trace of irritation in her voice, she asked, “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Pei Jiuyao chuckled. “Why would I seduce you at a time like this?”

“Look here.” She ran a finger up her back, stopping between her shoulder blades, where the spine dipped.

Chi Yang finally looked back at her.

It was honestly hard to look at this woman’s bare body. Too seductive. Just watching her undress gave the illusion something was already happening…

But when watching the video, she hadn’t felt that way at all. It was… strange.

Chi Yang’s heartbeat was slightly erratic.

She struggled to regulate her breathing and suppress her pheromones. “What… exactly am I looking at?”

“Here.” Pei Jiuyao reached for her hand, but Chi Yang dodged.

“I’ll look myself.” Chi Yang stepped behind her. “Put your clothes back on.”

Pei Jiuyao chuckled softly and pressed the shirt over her chest.

“There’s a scar on my back,” she said, turning her head slightly, voice quiet. “Seven years ago, on my first film shoot, I messed up my blocking and fell from a height, landing right on a rock. The doctor said if I had hit just a little lower, my spine would’ve been damaged—I’d have been paralyzed.”

The truth was, her body looked exactly like the original Pei Jiuyao’s. So she had always assumed their physical features would be the same.

It never occurred to her that they might be different.

But the original Pei Jiuyao was a “pretty face”—a flower vase. Pei Jiuyao was an actor. Since the original never filmed, she naturally wouldn’t have that scar.

Besides, back then, she was a total nobody. After the accident, the production team didn’t dare make it public. There were no online reports. At red carpet events, any backless outfits had the scar covered with makeup.

Realizing this physical difference between her and the original… it was still a shock.

“I know this isn’t exactly hard evidence,” Pei Jiuyao said softly. “It’s not a convincing reason. It just depends on whether you’re willing to believe me.”

“Seven years ago…” Chi Yang murmured. That did line up—Pei Jiuyao had debuted seven years ago.

But no. When she debuted wasn’t the point.

The point was—Pei Jiuyao was saying the person in the video wasn’t her.

And Mo Tian would never use a fake video to threaten her.

So, that means…

“If you don’t believe me, I can do a forensic analysis on the scar. It’ll confirm it’s seven years old.”

Chi Yang gave a low laugh, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. “That video could’ve been taken even earlier.”

“I was sixteen seven years ago. Does the girl in the video look sixteen to you?”

Pei Jiuyao lowered her gaze. “Even if I did look like that at sixteen, the hotel they were in… I looked it up. It’s owned by the Mo Group, and it wasn’t built until three years ago.”

Chi Yang’s fingertip touched the scar on her back—cool, soft. The sensation seemed to run straight through to her heart.

“Do you believe me?” Pei Jiuyao’s voice trembled slightly.

It was absurd, really—saying she wasn’t the same person.

Chi Yang had never heard of Pei Jiuyao having a twin.

She’d even tested her once, and Pei Jiuyao had denied it.

Was there some secret she couldn’t reveal?

“Then what’s your name?”

Pei Jiuyao’s grip on her shirt tightened. She lowered her head. “Pei Jiuyao.”

Chi Yang gave a low snort. “How interesting.”

“If I ask whether you’re the same person as the previous Pei Jiuyao… you can’t answer, can you?”

Pei Jiuyao was silent for a long time, then said, “No, I can’t.”

“Then are you the one in the video?”

Chi Yang’s finger circled gently over the scar.

Pei Jiuyao gritted her teeth. “No.”

It was such an impossible story—and yet Chi Yang actually almost believed it.

Maybe parallel worlds really did exist.

That scar, in itself, couldn’t be definitive proof. Mo Tian could simply claim Pei Jiuyao had hidden it in the video.

But the reason Chi Yang did believe—was ironically because of that high-resolution video Mo Tian had sent.

If Mo Tian had preserved that evidence for years, she wouldn’t make a mistake on something so simple.

In a twisted way, Chi Yang found herself grateful to have such a formidable enemy.

Mo Tian’s evidence was always flawless—beyond doubt.

Chi Yang smiled faintly, voice laced with amusement.

“Why wouldn’t it count as proof? In the court of public opinion, even the smallest flaw becomes fatal.”

She fastened Pei Jiuyao’s clothes.

“Tomorrow, you’re coming with me for a forensic analysis of that scar.”