After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 35.1

The next day’s filming schedule was all about Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang’s scenes.

While they were getting their makeup done, Chi Yang lightly tapped the side of Pei Jiuyao’s calf with the tip of her shoe, her eyes curving with a teasing smile.

“Nervous?”

“Not really,” Pei Jiuyao replied.

She had acted in plenty of films before. Even if Director Lin was a bit fierce, she wouldn’t panic.

But Chi Yang seemed to think she was some clueless little newbie—just short of outright saying, ‘Let big sis teach you.’

Arrogant when it came to work—truly overbearing. Especially considering that last night…

Hadn’t she been the one clinging to her and begging for mercy?

Pei Jiuyao let out a quiet chuckle, brushing at the corner of her lips.

Fine—she could let her have the upper hand off the bed, so long as she remembered who had the advantage on it.

Chi Yang caught the ambiguous look in her eyes and immediately narrowed her own, her tone turning cool.

“What are you thinking about again?”

“Nothing,” Pei Jiuyao said, snapping out of it but still wearing that faint, telltale smile.

The picture of someone not thinking about anything proper.

Chi Yang ground the tip of her shoe hard against Pei Jiuyao’s calf, her gaze frosted with warning.

“Keeping secrets from me. Not obeying orders.”

“How am I not?” Pei Jiuyao’s smile was bright. “I was just savoring the memory of my scene with Miss Chi last night—hoping I can act well enough today not to let you down.”

She watched the tips of Chi Yang’s ears slowly turn red before the latter shot her a glare and turned her head away.

Luckily, makeup was done—otherwise this would start looking like outright flirtation.

On the way out, Chi Yang gave a dismissive little hum, tossing over her shoulder, “We’ll see.”

She stepped around Pei Jiuyao and left without looking back.

Pei Jiuyao lightly touched the bridge of her nose.

Seemed she’d really ruffled her feathers.

Adorable.

________________________________________

On set, they were filming the first meeting between Ji Leng and Chisong.

At this point in the story, Ji Leng didn’t know who Chisong was. Chisong, however, had long heard of the human emperor.

In fact, Chisong had come for her.

She was curious about the woman who ruled over the Nine Provinces and made the whole world bow at her feet—and whether she herself had the ability to make such a woman her own.

Manipulating hearts was Chisong’s most practiced skill. Against such lowly lifeforms, she could have easily used brute force.

But that wasn’t her style.

Watching humans tear each other apart under her influence—that was where the fun lay.

Ji Leng returned to her palace as usual, shrugging off her outer robe and tossing it to a waiting attendant. A wave of her hand brought the great golden-dragon doors crashing shut.

Since Chi You’s defeat, rumor had it her body had been torn apart and her soul had sunk into the underworld, awakening ancient evils.

Ever since, strange beings had been appearing in the world without warning.

Not long ago, for instance, the sky had split open, and a massive mech fragment had pierced the clouds, hanging there like a black iron dome trapping everything beneath it. Plants withered instantly, and the commoners on the streets seemed to have their souls snatched away in a heartbeat.

It had taken Ji Leng five days to sew that gash in the sky shut.

She was exhausted, her energy drained, and wanted nothing more than to rest.

Chi Yang’s eyes, in character, were still cold and sharp, but the faint weariness bled through from her half-lowered lids.

Once she stepped into the inner chamber, she rubbed her fingers against her brow.

Her lips pressed tight, she walked on in silence. Her hand fell to the gauzy bed curtains—then paused.

A strange fragrance lingered in the air.

“Who’s there?” Chi Yang’s weariness vanished in an instant. She yanked the curtain aside.

On the bed lounged a breathtaking beauty—red lips, loose hair, clad in a scarlet robe patterned with gold.

One glance and it was obvious… nothing about her was decent.

“Who sent you?”

Chi Yang tore the curtain down entirely. In an instant, the white gauze cascaded like a waterfall between them, leaving the woman on the bed fully exposed to view.

Pei Jiuyao let out a low laugh, springing up from the bed with a flick of her toes, the trailing hem of her red robe spilling across the floor.

“I just came to see you,” she said, voice dripping with ambiguous warmth, eyes hazy and yearning—practically pressed up against her.

Here, a special effect was used: Chisong’s body passed straight through Ji Leng’s.

Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang shifted positions, Pei sliding behind her, holding the mark, turning back with the faintest smile.

Chi Yang’s eyes stayed icy cold. She glanced over her shoulder, the sharpness in her expression like a shard of ice.

“Cut!”

Pei Jiuyao turned to see Lin Leyi’s darkened expression, baffled.

It wasn’t an emotional scene—just a light first encounter. She hadn’t thought her performance was off.

Chi Yang tugged lightly at her sleeve, motioning for her to follow.

Before the director could speak, Chi Yang stepped up and kneaded Lin’s shoulder.

“What is it, Director Lin? Something off?”

Seeing the solemn look on Lin’s face, she added with a smile, “Did my mark just now miss its spot?”

“This isn’t about you—don’t interrupt,” Lin said curtly, fixing her gaze on Pei Jiuyao. “Jiuyao, what was that look in your eyes? You couldn’t hide the love for Chi Yang if you tried. What’s going on?”

Pei Jiuyao coughed lightly, masking her discomfort.

That was supposed to be Chisong looking at Ji Leng—how had it turned into her looking at Chi Yang?

Lin’s habit of calling actors by their real names instead of their roles really needed breaking.

“You’re supposed to be a master at bewitching people. Even if you’re seducing her, it should be effortless. So why did you come on looking completely love-struck from the start?”

“Come on, Director, you know her—Miss Pei’s whole persona is ‘love-brain,’” Chi Yang cut in, teasing.

Pei Jiuyao felt that was blatant payback for her earlier comments in the makeup room.

“Director Lin,” she began slowly, “if I remember right, the script says Chisong was stunned by Ji Leng at first sight—‘never seen such a woman,’ ‘must have her,’ ‘had to test her skill.’ That’s what made her begin her careful plotting and use of witchcraft.”

“Chisong is an outer god. Liking a human is no different to her than liking a cat, a dog, or a particularly beautiful flower. No matter how heated her eyes may be, it never changes her posture as someone above it all.”

Lin lifted her lids and said coldly, “You of all people should understand that kind of ‘liking’ better than I do.”

“Jiuyao, I thought your grasp of Chisong’s character was solid. Why does it flatten out once you’re actually in the scene?”

After her last “Acting” skill reward, the next one Pei Jiuyao had chosen was “Education Level.”

Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet found the right opportunities on set to rack up the ten favor points needed.

Given the original owner’s education, her current understanding of Chisong was already an overachievement.

That, and romance had always been her weakest point.

Seeing her fall silent, Chi Yang stepped in. “Director Lin, our Miss Pei’s pure-hearted—she likes a flower, she likes it passionately.”

“I’ll talk her through the scene later. Should we keep going?” Chi Yang stated.

Lin grunted—apparently mollified before she could start a real scolding—and waved them back to position.

On the way, Chi Yang asked with a blank expression, “Know how to like a flower?”

“I’ll do my best,” Pei Jiuyao murmured, lips pressing together.

Being scolded for half the day by someone who was allegedly an “ex-girlfriend”—and not just any ex, but one who was at least 80% the real deal—was definitely unpleasant.

But then again, Lin Leyi was the director, and what she said wasn’t wrong.

With that in mind, the irritation quickly deflated.

Still… Chi Yang had actually defended her in front of Lin Leyi.

Was that a declaration of sovereignty to her ex?

A way of flaunting her current girlfriend?

Or just trying to keep the two of them from coming to blows?

Except—Pei Jiuyao didn’t even count as a “girlfriend.” At best, she was just a lover.

And yet, being defended like that gave her an oddly illicit thrill.

Deliciously sinful.

Pei Jiuyao quickly smoothed her expression.

She didn’t choose to directly lower “Chisong’s” favorability score.

She could tell Lin Leyi didn’t like actors who were formulaic and passive; she valued those who could take one line from the director and draw out ten.

So Pei Jiuyao simply added a hint of playful indulgence—like one might have toward a pet—into the overflowing goodwill.

When she turned back, a sword gleaming with cold light appeared in Chi Yang’s hand.

Sword qi surged, making “Ji Leng” seem even more ruthless.

In that instant, Pei Jiuyao suddenly understood what it meant to love a cat… or a flower.

It was the love of someone in power.

Plucking a flower from a lofty peak—not to protect it, but to make it yield only beneath your touch.

To see it act spoiled, show weakness, cry with eyes red.

To grind it into the dust, then pull it back up—

Let it love you yet never obtain you—

Until it kneels of its own accord.

The glint of amusement in her eyes deepened.

Pei Jiuyao raised her hand and tapped between Chi Yang’s brows, pulling Ji Leng into an illusion.

An illusion where Ji Leng was utterly unguarded, completely trusting.

Chi Yang’s fingers trembled slightly, yet she had been taught from childhood to revere the unity of sword and self.

Even when her soul was ensnared, she never loosened her grip on the sword.

Chisong found this amusing—

That in her own world, Ji Leng dared to remain so arrogant and defiant.

Arrogant enough… to make her like her even more.

From liking a flower to liking a deadly weapon.

The camera zoomed in.

Pei Jiuyao lifted Chi Yang’s chin with her fingertips.

Looking into those unfocused, lifeless eyes, she let her gaze drift to the restless sword in her hand… and pressed her red lips to Chi Yang’s forehead.

A kiss meant for a pet.

Affectionate, yet laced with ice.

Her lips curved in a cold smile, while the one beneath her kept her expression severe, a vein standing taut on her neck.

Suddenly, the light shifted—Chi Yang raised her sword, shattering the illusion.

Sword light cut between them.

Pei Jiuyao leaned back, retreating several steps.

“You actually broke my illusion. How… interesting.”

Chi Yang’s voice was cold.

“You’re not human.”

With a sweep of her long sleeve, Chisong’s shadow flickered over Ji Leng’s body, devouring her completely.

She wiped her mouth when done, opened the palace gates, and strode away.

What remained was Chi Yang’s cold back, the sword in her hand trembling slightly before she drove it into the ground—

Holding back her fury with the last shred of stubborn pride.

When filming wrapped, Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang went to watch the playback.

“Not bad work this time, Jiuyao,” Lin Leyi commented.

The director rarely praised anyone.

For her to meet Lin’s standards after just one reprimand was rare indeed.

At that, envious glances slid her way.

Pei Jiuyao chuckled.

“It’s thanks to Director Lin and Miss Chi for the inspiration.”

Chi Yang noticed Lin Leyi still frowning and moved closer.

“Director, you’re not satisfied?”

“Not with you two,” Lin replied.

“Then it’s the scene you’re unhappy with,” Chi Yang guessed.

Lin nodded toward the final shot.

“Ji Leng, as the human emperor, is at the peak of both skill and cunning—the only human capable of opposing a god.

But here, she leaves too easily.”

“If it’s that easy, the protagonist doesn’t seem worthy of her position.

Why would Chisong choose her, then?”

Chi Yang instantly understood.

“So it comes across as nothing more than lust.”

“The tension just isn’t there,” Lin said plainly.