After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 43.2

“Everyone chases something different,” Chi Yang said softly. “Sister Zhu Qiao said she loves it here because it’s the darkest place in the world. And when you’re walking through the darkness, you never know when the most dazzling light might appear.”

After a pause, Jiuyao rubbed her fingers gently, her voice warm. “Maybe as long as you carry hope, the ground beneath you is already utopia.”

Chi Yang nestled closer to her, voice slow and quiet. “That must be why so many people brave the snow and storms just to see the aurora.”

“So you still want to ‘hop on the next plane home because you can’t stand a second in this godforsaken place’?” Jiuyao teased, remembering how furious Chi Yang had been when she first stepped off the plane, shouting about how “the cold air drilled straight from my shoes into my brain.”

“…It’s not so bad,” Chi Yang admitted after a pause, lowering her voice. “As long as I get to see the aurora with you.”

Jiuyao’s heart melted instantly.

It was just like how Chi Yang had never wanted to set foot in this world, but for the sake of sharing memories with Jiuyao, she endured and pushed herself, step by step, all the way to the farthest corner.

For Jiuyao, it was much the same.

I often wish I could blow this whole world to pieces. I’ve always been the odd one out, never belonging anywhere. The air suffocates, the world crushes, and living feels harder than dying.

But when I see you, I can’t help but think—maybe I’ll let it all last just one more day. At least it’s still your world.

She couldn’t resist holding Chi Yang tighter against her.

Pei Jiuyao knew she could never live with the cold rationality of Chi Qing—someone who endured life by stripping everything away.

Her past had already marked her as someone emotional, someone who needed light.

As long as there was a glimmer ahead, the darkness behind would dissolve into nothing more than a backdrop.

When the car door opened, a shaft of light fell directly on Chi Yang, curled up against Jiuyao’s lap.

Zhu Qiao came in with the wind and snow, slamming the door shut with a loud thud. She tossed a plastic bag onto the passenger seat, pulled off her scarf and hat, warmed her hands for a moment, then started the car.

By four in the afternoon, the sky was already pitch-dark. Only the car’s headlights carved out a faint patch of light, while sleet lashed the windows with the sound of shattering glass.

After parking, Zhu Qiao grabbed the plastic bag, helped them unload their suitcases, punched in the code, and urged, “Hurry inside.”

Jiuyao and Chi Yang stumbled in, pushing and laughing. The fireplace was burning, and the underfloor heating was on—warmth spread quickly through the house.

They shed their coats and hung them up. Upstairs, a young girl’s sweet voice rang out: “Joe, you’re back!”

A little girl with dark hair and bright green-blue eyes froze when she spotted the two strangers at the door. She stood motionless at the top of the stairs.

“Nana.” Zhu Qiao slipped in behind them and opened her arms. The girl bounded down the steps and threw herself into her embrace.

She blinked up at the visitors, eyes wide with innocence. “Who are they?”

“They’re my friends,” Zhu Qiao said, pointing first to Chi Yang. “This is Sister Yangyang.”

Then to Jiuyao. After a brief pause, Jiuyao stepped in with a smile. “Pei Jiuyao.”

“Sister Yangyang, Sister Jiuyao,” Nana chirped obediently.

Changing into slippers, Chi Yang asked curiously, “And who’s this?”

“The neighbor’s kid—Hannah. I usually just call her Nana.” Zhu Qiao set her down on the sofa and carried the bag into the kitchen.

Jiuyao walked over and poked Nana gently with her finger, making the girl giggle uncontrollably.

“Then how come she’s here with you?” Chi Yang asked, wandering around the living room before pausing by the fireplace and testing the warmth with her hand.

“Her mom went off to ‘soak up the sun’ and dumped her with me,” Zhu Qiao replied from the kitchen.

Chi Yang laughed lightly. “For a moment I thought you’d stayed here three years because you secretly had a kid. But her mom’s ruthless—going off to sunbathe without even taking her daughter.”

Bored, she looped back to the sofa and squeezed Nana’s chubby cheeks.

“People here are like that,” Zhu Qiao said. “They love their couple time. Kids get tossed around everywhere.”

“‘Tossed around’ sounds so violent,” Chi Yang chuckled, leaning lazily on the couch.

After washing her hands, Jiuyao joined Zhu Qiao in the kitchen.

Zhu Qiao was slicing salmon. She glanced up. “You cook too?”

“A little,” Jiuyao said. “But I probably don’t know much about your style of cooking…”

“Perfect,” Zhu Qiao grinned, nudging a bag at her feet. “I bought some vegetables. Was going to make salad, but you can stir-fry a couple dishes instead. Haven’t had proper hot food in ages.”

Jiuyao bent down, unpacked the vegetables, and washed them.

Soon, the rhythmic sound of chopping echoed through the kitchen. As the fire blazed, aromas began to drift out.

Chi Yang passed the time on the sofa piecing together a puzzle with Nana.

When the food was ready, Jiuyao and Zhu Qiao carried the dishes out. Chi Yang and Nana had already spread a blanket on the floor, dragged over a low table to the window, and the four of them gathered by the upstairs window for dinner.

Outside the glass doors was a small balcony.

The house sat on high ground, overlooking the sunken districts below.

Ithaca was ringed with volcanoes and bays; even in the city, residential areas were sparse and clustered, with many water towns scattered around.

The snow had stopped. From their perch above, clusters of glowing lights dotted the gray haze below.

“Haishi must be a lot warmer than here,” Zhu Qiao said, tasting Jiuyao’s cooking with obvious delight. “Jiuyao, this is amazing.”

Nana parroted cheerfully, “Amazing!”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Still smiling, Chi Yang replied, “Haishi is warmer, but there’s no central heating. Winter can be cold too.”

Zhu Qiao slung an arm around her shoulders. “Then you’re better off here. No need to stress about family troubles either. Honestly, you should just stay with me. Why go back at all?”

“I’ll stay as long as Yaoyao stays,” Chi Yang blinked playfully at Pei Jiuyao.

Pei Jiuyao froze. “Ah—me?”

Zhu Qiao turned her gaze toward Pei Jiuyao.

After a moment, Pei Jiuyao said, “Chi Yang’s afraid of the cold.”

Zhu Qiao gave a light scoff. “The two of you really are of one mind. Always so protective.”

Chi Yang’s voice carried a hint of pride. “Of course. She’s absolutely crazy about me.”

Seated at her side, Pei Jiuyao reached over and ruffled Chi Yang’s hair with tender indulgence.

Zhu Qiao, looking like she’d been force-fed dog food, stood up with her bowl. “I’m not eating with you two anymore. You’re so sweet it’s suffocating.”

Toward the end of dinner, Chi Yang stuffed the last slice of salmon into her stomach, tapped the wooden plate with her chopsticks, and sighed. “Well, no rainforest here, but at least there’s fish. Barely counts as acceptable.”

By the time they finished cleaning up, it was only a little past seven. The early darkness of winter always made one drowsy. After a hot bath, Chi Yang burrowed into the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, unwilling to move at all.

Hannah, dressed in a little bear-print pajama set, curled up at Chi Yang’s feet and quickly drifted off.

Zhu Qiao came over and gently lifted her up. Hannah’s tiny hand clutched the collar at Zhu Qiao’s neck, her breath heavy with sleep.

Zhu Qiao lowered her voice. “It’s been a long day. You two should rest early.”

Chi Yang glanced at Hannah nestled against Zhu Qiao’s shoulder, and her own laziness grew. She stretched a hand out toward Pei Jiuyao, signaling that she wanted to be carried too.

Pei Jiuyao gave a helpless laugh, then wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up. Chi Yang immediately twined her legs around her, snuggling into her neck like Hannah had.

Zhu Qiao took one look at them, rolled her eyes at the blatant PDA, and went upstairs.

Though Chi Yang was light in her arms, carrying her upstairs still took effort. Once they reached the bedroom, Pei Jiuyao finally set her down on the bed and let out a small sigh. “Good thing I’m strong.”

Chi Yang dove under the blanket without hesitation, peering out at her with mock severity. “Keep it that way. Otherwise, I’ll toss you out too.”

“Toss me out?” Pei Jiuyao slipped her hand under the covers, pinching her waist with a smile. “Who was it that swore she’d never let us be apart, even in death?”

Chi Yang’s ears turned red as she ducked deeper into the quilt. “Hmph, I never said that. You must’ve misheard.”

“Oh? Never said it?” Pei Jiuyao’s eyes lit up mischievously. She pressed her fingers into Chi Yang’s sensitive side, tickling without mercy.

Chi Yang couldn’t stop laughing, wriggling and kicking until she finally shoved Pei Jiuyao away. Breathless and teary-eyed, her cheeks flushed crimson, she collapsed softly against the mattress, panting.

“No more, I’m exhausted.” Even her voice came out in a faint, delicate whisper.

Patting the mattress beside her, she asked, “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

The sight of her made Pei Jiuyao’s heart ache and itch all at once. She couldn’t resist leaning down to brush a quick kiss against Chi Yang’s cheek.

“I’ll finish writing the lyrics. You go ahead and sleep.”

Chi Yang tugged the blanket tighter, took a moment to steady her breath, then murmured, “Don’t stay up too late.”

Pad in hand, Pei Jiuyao went to sit by the window.

Outside stretched an endless range of mountains, while inside, the room glowed in soft amber light. Sitting with her back to the lamp, her figure seemed to dissolve into the surrounding darkness.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

When she finally closed her interface and stretched, her gaze fell outside again. The mountains loomed, layer upon layer, now only a dark gray silhouette.

The little town appeared cradled by the peaks, but it was only an illusion of perspective. They said many of these mountains were live volcanoes, magma surging endlessly below, waiting to erupt.

Standing here, one could almost feel the earth’s pulse, its beating heart.

The harsher the cold, the fiercer life grew—and the smaller humanity seemed.

Between heaven and earth stretched only vast emptiness. One by one, the lights went out, until everything collapsed into the long, unbroken dark.

When Pei Jiuyao finally slipped under the covers beside Chi Yang, warmth and a rush of emotion hit her all at once. She suddenly felt the urge to write about something beyond love and separation.

Like this—when I see the mountain, I think of the bones that grew inside you since childhood.

When I hear the earth’s heartbeat, I listen as though it was your heart.

When I see the wind far away, I wish you could become the wind.

So that when you blow across the snowy peaks, I no longer fear you’ll leave me. My only fear is that you truly belong there instead.

Pei Jiuyao thought, perhaps what wears the face of love, at its core, is really fate.

Sensing the warmth, Chi Yang burrowed into her arms—again and again, as though trying to tunnel straight inside.

Soon, soft murmurs spilled from her lips, unguarded in her sleep.

Then what about when I see you?

Pei Jiuyao looked down at the figure nestled against her. Amid drowsy thoughts and scattered noise in her mind, she seemed to hear Chi Yang’s clear whisper, drifting across the years and falling into her heart:

“When I see you, I want nothing more than to bind you to me with rope—yet at the same time, I long to cut it loose and set you free.”