After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 44.1

The next morning, when Chi Yang woke, she felt a little dazed.

She rolled over. Through the small panes of glass that divided the window, she saw the courtyard blanketed in white snow and a faint golden light tracing the distant mountains.

Only then did she come back to her senses—it had already dawned on Ithaca.

This so-called Gateway to the Arctic offered only a few short hours of daylight each day, all in the morning.

Behind her, Pei Jiuyao was still fast asleep, one arm loosely draped around her waist.

Chi Yang lifted that hand, threaded her fingers between Pei Jiuyao’s long ones, and compared them side by side.

She had always thought her own hands beautiful—pale, slender, the bones rounded so the lines flowed smoothly.

But even though both of them were Alphas, when she laid her palm against Pei Jiuyao’s, hers could be completely enveloped.

Jiuyao’s bones were sharply defined, the joints distinct, hard and solid to the touch.

After a moment, Chi Yang turned over and looked at her sleeping face, brushing her fingertips lightly across Jiuyao’s eyes and lashes.

This woman, in sleep, looked as unmarked as a blank sheet of paper. She wasn’t very old, yet there was always an air of untold stories about her. Even when she acted spoiled or playful, maturity and reason seemed ready to assert themselves at any moment.

And yet, she so often set aside things most people would care about—never questioning, never fighting, never explaining.

It was only because something else mattered more to her, so she discarded what she considered “trivial” emotions.

Like someone shouldering a destiny that was never meant to be hers.

Though she bore the identity of Chi Yang’s sponsor, Pei Jiuyao had never once leaned on her. Even when she said, I like you, the feeling she gave Chi Yang was always—I like you, but I can walk away at any time. I want you, but I’m not afraid if you leave me.

It was Chi Yang, instead, whose feelings for Pei Jiuyao grew more and more twisted.

________________________________________

When she went downstairs, Zhu Qiao had already prepared breakfast.

Chi Yang shrugged on her down coat and pushed open the balcony door to get some air.

The balcony faced a slate-blue sea. Zhu Qiao came out, slid the glass door shut behind her, and stood beside Chi Yang.

“Yaoyao’s not up yet?”

Zhu Qiao was the type who grew close easily. Even Chi Yang herself had never called Jiuyao that affectionately, yet Zhu Qiao naturally did so from the start, sweet and familiar.

It gave Chi Yang the perfect excuse to follow along. “She worked late last night. Probably tired.”

Zhu Qiao tilted her head up, exhaling a puff of white breath. “Weather’s nice today. There’s even sun.”

Chi Yang pulled the hood over her head. Though the wind wasn’t strong, even without it, the air cut like knives against the skin.

“Not much sun around here?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” Zhu Qiao pointed to the golden shimmer on the horizon. “But it stays low at the edge of the sky. You can feel it, but you can’t see it.”

Resting her arms on the railing, padded by her coat, Chi Yang asked, “So this is Ostia Bay?”

“Not exactly. The mountains cut this part off. Strictly speaking, it’s on the other side.”

Chi Yang gazed out into the distance and smiled. “I heard mermaids were spotted here?”

Zhu Qiao’s mouth curved wryly. “Media claims they see aliens too. Most likely someone caught a whale’s tail on camera and called it a mermaid, just to boost tourism. That report turned Snow City into what everyone now calls ‘Mermaid Island.’”

Then she added, “We’ll drive to Snow City at noon. Easier to catch the aurora there.”

“Not in daylight?” Chi Yang asked curiously.

“Daylight won’t last long,” Zhu Qiao chuckled, pushing the door open as she turned back. “Look—Yaoyao’s up. Let’s eat.”

________________________________________

During breakfast, Chi Qing messaged to ask if she had arrived.

Holding a sandwich in one hand, Chi Yang typed back with the other: [Got here yesterday. Your concern comes with a delay.]

As she set her phone down, a headline from Finance Daily popped up:

Minghe Biotech acquires all outstanding shares of Huai’en Pharmaceuticals for 43 billion.

Subsidiary.

Chi Yang couldn’t help but laugh softly.

Chi Qing’s company had nothing to do with Minghe, but without such backing it would’ve been hard to grow so big. All these years, her sister had gone out of her way to avoid being linked to their grandmother. If she saw this report, she would probably explode with anger.

Noticing her smile, Pei Jiuyao leaned in against her shoulder. “What are you looking at? Let me see too.”

Chi Yang handed the phone over. “Finance news.”

“Isn’t this the merger you worked on?” Jiuyao pointed at the screen.

Zhu Qiao paused mid-bite, surprised. “You went back to the company?”

Chi Yang’s lips curved faintly. “No. Chi Qing fell ill and asked me to wrap up a case for her. But Sister Xinyi handled most of it.”

“Chi Qing’s been trying to pull you back for years,” Zhu Qiao remarked. “I never understood it. You’ve been an actress for so long—what could you even do back there?”

She sipped her milk before continuing. “Now I see—you people are just born for it. Unlike me, drifting wherever I please.”

Jiuyao plucked a napkin, wiped her hands, and rested her head on Chi Yang’s shoulder again, scrolling further down the article. It was full of predictions about Huai’en’s future from Dr. Ying, Minghe’s CEO and head of research, plus talk of technical support.

“A whole pile of gibberish,” Jiuyao muttered. “You really are made for this.”

“Just grew up around it,” Chi Yang pinched Jiuyao’s nose playfully. “Born to slave away—what a tragedy.”

“But you’ve got me, don’t you?” Jiuyao nuzzled against her fingers.

Chi Yang squeezed her cheek lightly. “You’d better stick to being a little literary darling, and wait for your sugar mommy to keep you.”

Jiuyao leaned closer and kissed her on the cheek.

Zhu Qiao covered her eyes dramatically. “Hey, you two! There’s a living, breathing human right here. Show some restraint! This is basically public indecency!”

Jiuyao froze, her cheeks coloring faintly. She sat back and quickly buttoned her shirt all the way to the collar.

Chi Yang chuckled. “Oh, come on, Zhu Qiao. Don’t act like you didn’t do worse when you were our age. Don’t bully us juniors.”

“When I was your age?” Zhu Qiao dropped her hand, offended. “I’m only thirty, thank you very much. Prime of my life! I was even thinking of studying archaeology for fun the other day.”

Chi Yang sighed. “You don’t even have steady income. Don’t burn money.”

“You don’t get it.” Zhu Qiao wagged a finger at them. “Money’s not important. As long as the heart is free, anywhere you walk is a free land.”

________________________________________

Later, as Zhu Qiao gathered gear, Jiuyao leaned against Chi Yang and murmured, “Sister Zhu Qiao’s pretty interesting.”

“She wouldn’t have traveled alone for nearly a decade otherwise,” Chi Yang smoothed Jiuyao’s hair and whispered back, “But you’re interesting too.”

Zhu Qiao knocked on the doorframe, cutting in without a hint of politeness. “Enough of that. Come get dressed.”

She pulled out a few sets of snow gear from the closet.

Hannah tugged at her puffy down pants with her little hands, but lost her balance and plopped onto the floor. Instead of crying, she burst into a fit of giggles, then scrambled back up—only to deliberately topple herself over again.

Pei Jiuyao lifted her up and placed her onto the bed, slipped heavy boots onto her feet, then gave her head a gentle pat. “It’s too warm inside. Go out and play.”

Like a tiny penguin, Hannah hopped her way out of the room.

Chi Yang stretched out her legs. “I want that too.”

Pei Jiuyao reached over and scratched her chin. “Then give me a laugh like Hannah’s.”

Chi Yang flopped down on the sofa with a dismissive hum. “Forget it.”

She held her boots, turning them over in her hands, but stubbornly refused to put them on.

Pei Jiuyao sighed helplessly. Getting Chi Yang to act spoiled was nearly impossible—if it happened once, it had to be treasured, never pushed too far.

She took the boots, held Chi Yang’s ankle, and helped her put them on. Looking up, she said softly, “All done.”

Chi Yang stood, gave her body a little shake, and muttered, “So heavy. I feel like a loaf of bread.”

And with that, the loaf of bread ran outside and stood shoulder to shoulder with the little penguin, watching Zhu Qiao toss equipment into the trunk.

It was a five-hour drive from Ithaca to Mermaid Island. Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang sat in the back, with Hannah curled up between them, fast asleep.

The snow-covered roads were difficult, and dusk came quickly. By early afternoon, the sky was already dim and gray.

Though the car heater was on, cold drafts still slipped through the cracks. Noticing Zhu Qiao rubbing her hands together, Pei Jiuyao asked halfway through the trip if she wanted to switch drivers.

As expected, Zhu Qiao refused—saying the roads were too dangerous to risk it—though she did let Chi Yang take over for more than an hour.

By the time they reached Mermaid Island, it was past three and already pitch-dark.

Zhu Qiao stopped in front of a house and explained that two of her local friends lived here. They would act as guides, and they had a striking title—Aurora Hunters.

She added that the last time she came to see the aurora on Mermaid Island, it had been with these two: an AO couple, Alpha named Ross, Omega named Molly.

When they got out, it was so dark they could hardly see their hands in front of them.

At the door, the first to appear was a tall woman with long, wavy brown hair—so tall she even surpassed Pei Jiuyao’s height, easily over 1.8 meters. Her features were sharp and striking. She bent down for a light hug with Zhu Qiao and smiled. “You’re here.”

This must be Alpha Ross.

As Pei Jiuyao guided Chi Yang inside, a blonde, blue-eyed woman appeared behind Ross—delicate and sprite-like, blinking brightly as she greeted them.

“You’ll stay in the guest room upstairs,” Ross said as she led them up to set their luggage down. “We’ll have dinner first, then head out to Ostia Bay a little later.”

Zhu Qiao glanced at the weather outside. “Will it be good tonight?”

Ross gestured with her fingers. “The conditions are great—90 percent.”

Back downstairs, Ross asked, “Are these two also an AO couple?”

“They’re both Alphas,” Zhu Qiao replied.

Ross glanced back at Chi Yang, chuckled, and said, “Doesn’t look like it.” Then she added, “But your Alphas are both on the delicate side.”

After dinner, the group drove out of town. Ross kept an eye on her phone and, in accented speech, told them, “You’re lucky—the aurora index is especially high tonight.”

At Ostia Bay, several cars were already parked. People had set up cameras and gathered around bonfires, chatting and laughing.

Seeing them arrive, some waved them over. Ross and Molly went ahead, calling for the others to follow. Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang hesitated, exchanging a glance toward Zhu Qiao.

Holding Hannah’s hand, Zhu Qiao laughed. “We don’t know anyone here anyway. It’s fine, let’s join in.”

After a brief exchange of looks, Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang followed.

The bonfire grew brighter and warmer, and soon people began singing.

The sky was perfectly clear, not a cloud in sight. The Milky Way and countless stars stretched vividly overhead.

Though the air was freezing, the crowd and noise made it feel warm.

Chi Yang sat by the fire, and Pei Jiuyao wrapped her arms around her from behind. Their gaze followed upward together, into the vast sweep of starlight.

“Do you remember the first time we joined a variety show together?” Chi Yang asked softly. “By the bonfire—you sang that song.”

“Starlight spread across the sky, endless wilderness beneath our feet. We really did come to see the mountains and seas.”

Pei Jiuyao lowered her eyes.

Chi Yang’s face was mostly hidden by her hat and scarf, only a pair of light brown eyes visible. Firelight flickered in them, shifting into gold, then reflecting a hint of the Milky Way.

Her long lashes curled slightly, tipped with tiny white crystals of frozen snow.

Pei Jiuyao reached up and gently pinched her lashes. Her voice was tender. “You still remember.”

“Sometimes I think time is strange,” Chi Yang murmured, leaning against her shoulder and tilting her head up. “It always takes us where we’re meant to go. As if every word we’ve ever said… ends up counting in the end.”