After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 45.1

At dawn, Pei Jiuyao and her group had originally planned to head to Ostia Bay to watch the blue whales. But Ross suddenly suggested taking them to a luxury hotel not far from the bay, where the hot spring pools offered a direct view of the whales surfacing.

The hotel required advance booking, but Ross had connections and managed to reserve three suites.

Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang hadn’t intended to go. If it was really a vacation, they could just as easily rent a seaside villa for themselves—but that held little appeal. After all, the purpose of this trip was to experience the harsh northern extremes.

But that morning, Hannah had woken up with a slight fever, and on top of that, both Chi Yang and Pei Jiuyao were still recovering from injuries. Chi Yang, in particular, was sensitive to the cold.

So they compromised—the group would stay at the hotel and rest for a few days.

The hotel stood on a small island in Ostia Bay. The mountain road leading there was rough, but thanks to Ross’s familiarity with the terrain, they arrived before nightfall.

When Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang entered their suite, they stepped out onto the balcony. Below stretched the winding coastline, the best vantage point for watching the blue whale pods.

Unfortunately, even as dusk settled, no whales appeared.

Chi Yang retreated to the bed, curled up, and sighed. “See, people really shouldn’t get too comfortable. I think I’m already glued to this mattress.”

Pei Jiuyao suggested, “When this trip is over, why don’t we go somewhere warm?”

She had borrowed tools from the hotel front desk and now sat at the desk, carefully repairing Chi Yang’s necklace.

The mention of a vacation brightened Chi Yang’s mood. “Perfect. Somewhere warm and sunny. I’ll book the flights and hotels myself.”

Still working on the chain, her mask softening her laughter, Pei Jiuyao teased, “Sounds like I can hear all your complaints about this place loud and clear.”

“It’s not really complaints.” Chi Yang rolled over to face her. “It is fun here, but it’s just too cold. Little foxes aren’t built for this weather.”

The polishing tool whirred to life. Chi Yang immediately covered her ears with both hands against the buzzing.

Pei Jiuyao switched it off, swept the fine dust into the trash, and smiled. “So you’re finally admitting you’re a little fox?”

She rinsed the necklace, patted it dry with blotting paper, and cleaned up the desk before carrying it over.

Chi Yang sat up, lifting her gaze. “A fox is still better than a puppy.”

Pei Jiuyao chuckled, handing it to her. “Naturally.”

But instead of taking it, Chi Yang nudged Pei Jiuyao’s knee with her toes, tilting back her pale, slender neck in imperious command. “Put it on for me.”

Pei Jiuyao leaned down and carefully clasped the necklace around her throat.

Omega glands were delicate, so she had polished the clasp smooth—without a trace of sharpness.

The pendant was a silver-white coin, plain on the front, but when the light hit, fine ripples shimmered across its surface like tree rings. The back was hollowed out, etched with a pair of animal ears—crudely made, not easy to distinguish.

Chi Yang decided to imagine them as fox ears.

Tucking the pendant into her clothes, she hummed softly, nudging Pei Jiuyao’s calf with idle mischief. “Not bad.”

A faint twitch passed across Pei Jiuyao’s eyelids. She pulled at the corner of her mouth and said lightly, “Then I’ll take the tools back downstairs.”

She packed everything neatly into a kit, closed the door behind her, and headed downstairs.

At the elevator, she ran into Ross and Molly. They greeted each other.

“Heading out?” Pei Jiuyao asked.

Ross nodded, stepping closer. “We’re going to the hot springs. Miss Pei, Miss Chi—care to join us?”

Originally, Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang had intended to try the hot springs, but she wasn’t about to accept Ross’s invitation.

Maybe it was the Alpha’s instinctive rejection of another Alpha. Ross had kindly delivered medicine the previous night, but Pei Jiuyao couldn’t shake her wariness toward her.

And even without that, she had no desire to soak with others.

“No, thank you. We’re planning to rest in our room this afternoon,” Pei Jiuyao declined.

Ross didn’t press and soon left with Molly.

Back in the suite, Pei Jiuyao went into the bathroom. She rolled up her pant leg, revealing a large purple-black bruise spreading across her knee, angry red bloodlines radiating beneath the skin.

It was from when she had knocked against the rock yesterday. The bruise had worsened, and earlier, when Chi Yang playfully pressed down with her foot, she had almost cried out.

From the bedroom came Chi Yang’s soft voice: “Yaoyao, what’s taking you so long?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” Pei Jiuyao called back.

She spread herbal ointment over the bruise, rubbing it in despite the sharp sting that made her breath hitch and her eyes sting with tears. The pain welled up with each press, and tears slid down her cheeks.

Biting her lip, she flushed the toilet to muffle the sounds, hissing as she wound gauze tightly over the knee.

After tidying up, she washed her hands several times and returned to the bedroom.

From her bag she took another ointment, sat on the bed, and lifted Chi Yang’s injured hand to examine it.

Chi Yang’s fingers curled faintly as Pei Jiuyao pressed against them. “It’s just a scrape. It healed ages ago.”

“Even so, we’ll keep applying ointment. No scars,” Pei Jiuyao said, squeezing some onto her own hand and gently rubbing it into Chi Yang’s palm.

Chi Yang’s eyes darkened slightly. She let Pei Jiuyao hold her hand, the careful kneading stirring an old memory.

As a child, her mother had once done the same—settling her onto her lap, scolding her gently for running around again, and tenderly dabbing ointment onto her scraped skin.

There had been so many people in that household, yet when it came to Chi Yang, her mother never let anyone else tend to her wounds.

Yes—back then she’d even been carefree enough to be called a child who “played too wildly.”

In that family, children were shielded and protected. She’d once had a bright, worry-free childhood.

But after the accident, she realized everything she’d had—her privileges, her protection—existed only because of her mother’s place in the family. The moment that role disappeared, she became nothing more than an orphan, a fish on the chopping block.

She had never coveted the family’s wealth, power, or status. Those things others fought for—shares, companies, fortunes—meant nothing to her. Not compared to a single beam of light piercing the darkness when she woke in fear at night.

No one would ever care for her again. Even as a child, she understood that anyone who tried to get close to her, anyone who seemed kind, always had ulterior motives.

Later, entering the entertainment industry only confirmed it—a world where self-interest ruled all.

But Pei Jiuyao was different.

For the first time, Chi Yang felt something new.

Here was someone who cared for her—no matter what, regardless of whether her surname was “Chi.”

No, Pei Jiuyao didn’t care about her surname at all.

In Pei Jiuyao’s eyes, she wasn’t “Chi family’s daughter.” She was simply Chi Yang herself—a person, independent and whole.

“Yaoyao, you’re so good to me.”

She didn’t know when it had started, but she had suddenly changed the way she called her.

Pei Jiuyao looked up and smiled. “You’re my girlfriend. Of course I should treat you well.”

When Chi Yang raised her head, her eyes were already tinged red.

Pei Jiuyao froze for a moment and asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… I just thought of my mom. When I was little, she used to rub my hands for me like this.” Chi Yang lowered her head, her mouth tugging downward in a faint pout. She looked utterly aggrieved, yet stubbornly tried to act composed.

She forced a smile and looked up. “After she passed away, there hasn’t been anyone this close to me again. No one to take care of me, no one who would see me as a child.”

She wanted so badly to look indifferent, to straighten her slumping shoulders and put on a mask of calm. Yet inside she couldn’t help wondering—if some people are destined to leave, then why appear at all?

Only to leave behind those long, silent years, memories like brambles growing in her mind—every time she touched them, they drew fresh blood and searing pain.

As the faintly suppressed emotions seeped out, Pei Jiuyao’s heart ached as well.

“You miss her?” she asked, her own nose stinging as she spoke.

How could she not?

The woman before her seemed desperate to swallow down all her feelings, building a prison within herself to keep them locked away. Her gaze grew icier, but her reddened eyes betrayed her.

She must have wanted to say “I don’t.” That way she could suppress those unpleasant memories again and pretend nothing had ever happened.

But perhaps because it was Pei Jiuyao who asked…

Chi Yang suddenly broke a little.

“…A little,” she whispered. “How could I not?”

Her lashes trembled as she spoke, a tear sliding slowly down before she stubbornly wiped it away.

“But I can manage on my own. I can live well by myself,” she said haltingly, her voice uneven. “So I don’t need anyone.”

“What about me?” Pei Jiuyao asked softly. “Do you not need me either?”

Chi Yang turned her head away with a stubborn air, staring blankly out the window. “If you dare lie to me, I’ll lock you up.”

It sounded like a joke.

Pei Jiuyao sighed lightly. “Xiao Li, relying on someone a little isn’t a bad thing. And we’re already together.”

Chi Yang lowered her eyes, thinking: Actually, I already rely on you too much.

Relying enough that I even confessed to you first.

But in Pei Jiuyao’s eyes, that probably wasn’t real dependence. To her, even being together didn’t mean she couldn’t leave at any time.

Chi Yang wasn’t like that at all. If she was to slice her heart open and hand everything over, she’d go mad.

Her shoulders trembled slightly as she asked, almost defiantly, “I’ve already told you everything—what more do you want me to depend on you for?”

She seemed born insensitive to such things, or simply lacked awareness. So Pei Jiuyao decided she’d teach her.

“For example, when you’re sad, you could lean on me and cry. You don’t have to force yourself to hold it in, waiting for me to hug you first.”

“I’m not going to cry. That’s stupid.”

“Alright, you’re not going to cry,” Pei Jiuyao said, inching closer with a smile. “Which means I’ll just have to hug you first.”

“Come here. Let me hold you,” she coaxed gently.

Chi Yang pouted, her face full of haughty stubbornness. “I don’t want to hug.”

“It’s me who wants to hug. Miss Chi, will you let me hold you?” Pei Jiuyao still sat there with open arms, deliberately not moving, just like Chi Yang so often did to her.

Chi Yang froze for a long moment before finally breaking into a small laugh. Her eyes were still red as she threw herself into Pei Jiuyao’s arms.

________________________________________

After the hot springs, Zhu Qiao said Hannah’s fever wasn’t subsiding and insisted on taking her to the hospital for an injection.

Pei Jiuyao wanted to go along, but Zhu Qiao didn’t want to disturb the couple’s “honeymoon” and had her drop them at the hospital entrance before sending her back.

On the way back, Pei Jiuyao into Ross.

She greeted her casually and was about to leave when Ross suddenly grabbed her.

“Did Sister Zhu Qiao leave?” Ross asked with a smile.

“Hannah’s sick, so she took her to the hospital,” Pei Jiuyao replied.

“Hey, Miss Pei.” Ross tugged her toward the wall.

Pei Jiuyao frowned slightly. “What is it?”