After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 53.1

For several days straight, Pei Jiuyao had no idea what Chi Yang was busy dealing with.

Every time she came back, her whole body seemed weak—either weighed down by heavy thoughts or utterly exhausted.

Sometimes she needed joy so fierce it bordered on violence, only to leave again at dawn without explanation.

Pei Jiuyao didn’t dare keep her up too late. Yet, whenever she sat alone in the empty courtyard, she couldn’t help thinking—maybe this was the only way they knew how to survive now.

Tearing apart and avoiding, breaking and stitching back together. When the endless night stars pierced over the high walls and spilled across Chi Yang’s shoulders, Pei Jiuyao found herself staring at the elegant ridge of her shoulder blade and wondering.

It had all started that night—when Chi Yang came back from visiting Chi Qing.

Pei Jiuyao was always slow to notice Chi Yang’s moods. When Chi Yang whispered “Then kiss me to death,” she thought it was only a teasing line.

She didn’t know how long they had kissed, until their ragged breaths tangled beneath the night sky. Finally, Pei Jiuyao was forced to grip Chi Yang’s nape and pull her away.

Chi Yang was clearly displeased. Her pupils were still unfocused from the kiss, her mind not yet back to earth, and anger quickly colored her expression.

“Why did you stop kissing me?” Her voice softened into a questioning whine, fingers playfully scratching along Pei Jiuyao’s chin like claws.

Pei Jiuyao rolled onto her back, catching her breath. “Let me get some oxygen first.”

Chi Yang pulled open the drawer, taking out an ultra-thin cigarette and a lighter.

“You’re smoking again?”

Time blurred in this place, dragging thick and slow. Some mornings, when Pei Jiuyao woke and looked at the sunlight outside the window, she couldn’t even tell if it was dawn or dusk.

She didn’t have a real addiction to cigarettes, and she had promised Chi Yang she wouldn’t touch them again. But boredom was dangerous.

And boredom was putting it nicely. Pei Jiuyao had always considered herself mild-tempered, but recently, whenever she walked past a certain locked door in the villa, a faint, irrational violence would rise in her chest.

Especially on the days when Chi Yang promised she’d come back to accompany her… but didn’t.

A fleeting thought.

Her gaze drifted back to Chi Yang, lying on the bed.

It had been three days since that “kiss me to death.”

Chi Yang was still coming and going, vanishing at dawn and returning at night—always clinging to Pei Jiuyao for affection as soon as she came back.

Now she was sprawled lazily across the pillow, bare, uncovered, curled up like a little ball of snow—like a soft mochi.

Chi Yang was slender, yet her figure belied the number on a scale: curves in all the right places. Maybe it was because she was a star, maybe because she had differentiated into an Omega—but Pei Jiuyao suspected it was simply her nature.

When she lay like this, her waist softened into a delicate curve, her hips round and lifted, trembling at the slightest touch, easily reddened and marked.

Pei Jiuyao opened the drawer again, pulling out that same thin cigarette.

Last time Chi Yang had asked what it tasted like. After Pei Jiuyao snapped at her, she’d only looked pitiful before obediently putting it back.

Now Chi Yang turned her head. Pei Jiuyao had just finished drying her hair, sitting in the chair beside the bed, watching her.

“If there’s something I can help with, don’t just come back here to have sex,” Pei Jiuyao said quietly.

Chi Yang, holding the cigarette, only asked with the same curious look: “So what does it taste like?”

“I don’t remember,” Pei Jiuyao replied. “It’s been a long time.”

Chi Yang gave a small hum of disbelief. “Liar. I counted—another one’s gone.”

She lifted the lighter. A sharp click split the silence, a thin red flame flaring and pushing back the night in a soft glow.

Pei Jiuyao crossed over, smacked her backside, and took the lighter away. “Don’t play with fire.”

“I wasn’t playing with fire,” Chi Yang shot back, eyes narrowing, cold and clear as she glared at her.

Pei Jiuyao sat down beside her, tugged a thin blanket over Chi Yang’s bare body, and bent to kiss the delicate ridge of her shoulder blade.

Chi Yang immediately turned, hooked her arms around Pei Jiuyao’s neck, and kissed her again.

Afterward, she lay back against the pillow, limbs sprawled, curled into herself like a fox grown sated and drowsy.

She nudged her foot against Pei Jiuyao’s thigh.

“Are you really not going to tell me anything?” Pei Jiuyao asked, rubbing the tip of her reddened ear.

She had asked countless times, always brushed aside like a game of tai chi.

This time would likely be the same. Still, she asked, though she knew it was meaningless.

“I’m stronger than you think,” she added softly. “Maybe I could help.”

“And even if I couldn’t, you could at least confide in me. Isn’t that better than carrying it all alone?”

Chi Yang only gazed at her, expression smoothing out until it was unnervingly calm—except for the lingering red at her ear.

Pei Jiuyao had always thought of her as an untouchable ice beauty, her aloofness nothing more than a territorial boundary.

But now she knew. Chi Yang’s coldness wasn’t her nature—it was her way of hiding the parts of herself she didn’t want anyone to see.

Especially not Pei Jiuyao.

Chi Yang knew she could count on Pei Jiuyao’s endless indulgence—ever since she’d locked her away here.

So what would be the next step?

Captivity wouldn’t make Pei Jiuyao leave her. Neither would concealment.

Maybe nothing would.

Pei Jiuyao knew it shouldn’t be like this between them. She had been far too indulgent with this little fox.

So indulgent that Chi Yang always slipped away the moment she was questioned.

Chi Yang kissed the corner of her lips, kneading at her body playfully, and with that, the subject was dismissed without a word.

Sometimes Pei Jiuyao wondered if she was simply too easy to appease.

Before she could unravel the thought, Chi Yang’s fingers were already reaching for the lighter again.

“What are you trying to do now?” Pei Jiuyao refused to hand it over. Chi Yang, however, deliberately put on a look of wounded grievance.

“Just let me try it.” She hooked her fingers around Pei Jiuyao’s hand.

Pei Jiuyao pulled away firmly. “Good girls don’t do that.”

“I’m not a child,” Chi Yang protested, irritation flashing. “Just one puff.”

When Pei Jiuyao stayed unmoved, she coaxed on: “Yours smells nice—sweet. I’ve never seen one like it.”

It was true. The cigarette in Pei Jiuyao’s hand was different—almost no tobacco scent, infused with calming herbs. She rolled them herself.

One puff wouldn’t hurt. But Pei Jiuyao worried Chi Yang might like it too much.

Chi Yang knew she could always get her way with Pei Jiuyao. As long as it was her, a little coaxing was enough.

She sat up, completely bare, the blanket pooling loosely at her thighs.

“Yaoyao.” Her voice softened deliberately, coaxing sweet.

She never spoke like this outside of heat.

Pei Jiuyao knew she was being tricked again, but still, she stepped into the trap.

Chi Yang shook her hand, calling in a mock-whine: “Puppy.”

“No,” Pei Jiuyao said firmly, though in her heart she was already lighting the cigarette.

Those fox eyes were too dangerous—amber-brown like melted gold.

“Jiuyao-jie.” Chi Yang leaned in close, staring into her eyes as she called her.

Pei Jiuyao’s gaze faltered, heat rising to her cheeks.

Chi Yang nestled against her shoulder, breath brushing her ear.

“Baby.”

Pei Jiuyao’s lashes trembled. She tilted her head slightly toward her. “What?”

Chi Yang let out a low laugh, leaned in, and caught Pei Jiuyao’s lips. After releasing her, she enunciated deliberately, word by word:

“Ba-by.”

This time, even Pei Jiuyao’s neck turned red.

“Let me try it once, okay?”

It was only a cigarette, yet when Chi Yang said it like that, it sounded as though she was asking for something else entirely.

Chi Yang raised the slender stick to her lips, and Pei Jiuyao helped her light it.

As the smoke curled up, though it wasn’t particularly pungent, Chi Yang still coughed after taking a drag, eyes watering until she ended up collapsing into Pei Jiuyao’s arms.

“I told you this stuff is no good.” Pei Jiuyao reached for the cigarette, but Chi Yang pulled it out of reach.

She climbed back against the pillows, revealing her smooth, alabaster back and long legs, then took another draw.

Almost immediately, she frowned. It wasn’t as fragrant as she had imagined—only when Pei Jiuyao smoked did it smell so good.

Even so, Chi Yang said stubbornly, “I haven’t really tasted it yet.”

Pei Jiuyao’s gaze drifted upward from her legs.

Sure enough, Chi Yang’s skin bruised far too easily. A simple slap had left a mark that still hadn’t faded.

She tugged the light blanket over Chi Yang’s body.

This little fox—why did she insist on exhausting herself like this?

Pei Jiuyao watched her, a nagging feeling gnawing at her that something had been happening behind her back.

Yet no matter how closely she followed the entertainment news or the business reports, there was nothing about the Chi family.

After a long silence, Chi Yang said, “You’ll be free of Tianji soon.”

“Did we win the lawsuit?” Pei Jiuyao asked instinctively.

Chi Yang paused before replying, “Mo Tian dropped it. Probably decided it wasn’t worth wasting time on just one artist.”

That wasn’t really Mo Tian’s usual style, but then again, she was unpredictable, and Pei Jiuyao had never truly understood her.

“From now on, Qin Hao will take you. But there’s no rush to sign a contract yet.” Chi Yang rested her head on her arm, glancing back at Pei Jiuyao. The cigarette hung loosely from her other hand, smoke rings drifting lazily upward.

“Oh, right. There’s something I want to tell you.” Pei Jiuyao lay sprawled on top of her, took the cigarette from her hand, inhaled, and exhaled the mist against Chi Yang’s ear.

“I found out Wen-jie hasn’t left because she owes Mo Tian breach-of-contract fees. They were originally mine. I want to pay them back for her—so she can keep managing me.”

As the smoke swirled over, Chi Yang’s thoughts wavered. So it really was that intoxicating when Jiuyao smoked. The girl never realized how effortlessly alluring her little gestures could be.

Snapping back to herself, Chi Yang turned to look at her. “Why not let me handle it? Where would you get that kind of money?”

They were so close their noses nearly brushed with the slightest movement.

“I want to sell that villa,” Pei Jiuyao murmured, pinching her nose playfully.

Chi Yang frowned. “If I cover it for you—”

“We already agreed,” Pei Jiuyao pressed a finger to her lips, “my money, my responsibility. Otherwise, I won’t tell you anything anymore.”

Chi Yang let out a reluctant hum. “So… did you sell it yet?”

“Not yet. Villas aren’t easy to sell.” Pei Jiuyao nestled her head against Chi Yang’s chest. “But I’m working my connections. You don’t need to worry.”

“It’s late. Should we sleep?” she asked softly.

Though Chi Yang found the weight of Pei Jiuyao draped over her a little heavy, it was strangely grounding—comforting, even.

All of that weight came from Pei Jiuyao alone, and she almost wished it could stay longer.

But soon the warmth faded as Pei Jiuyao rolled off her side and lay beside her, leaving her body cold.

The cigarette in her hand had burned down to ash—she had only taken two puffs. The rest crumbled onto the floor, forming a small pile of gray that gave off a faint haze.