After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 54.1

“Yaoyao, does this mean… I’ll never have a sister again?”

When they stepped out of the hospital room, Chi Yang leaned against Pei Jiuyao’s shoulder. Tears streamed down her cheeks one after another, yet her expression was blank, vacant.

It was as if her soul had drifted beyond this world, broken into fragments scattered in all directions.

In this world, every step forward Pei Jiuyao took was an act against entropy. But every ending seemed fated to dissolve into disorder—towards destruction, silence, and nothingness. Just like Chi Qing. Just like herself.

It wasn’t until Pei Jiuyao found herself locked inside a room that she finally realized how far her own bottom line could sink.

And she also realized—to what lengths Chi Yang would really go.

The seed of “darkness” planted in Chi Yang’s heart after losing her mother had finally collapsed altogether with the loss of Chi Qing. She could no longer accept a destiny that demanded she lose Pei Jiuyao as well.

Through the frosted glass door, Pei Jiuyao could faintly make out Chi Yang’s silhouette leaning against the outside.

She tapped the door softly, her voice low and gentle: “Xiao Li, don’t be afraid.”

But other than don’t be afraid, she couldn’t find any words.

Like the lighthouse in Ithaca that guided every traveler who ventured to the poles in search of meaning—many believed that was life’s final destination.

But Pei Jiuyao and Chi Yang were like two points at opposite ends of a straight line. Even now, separated by a single door, they could never quite reach each other’s Ithaca.

“Don’t go any further… please?” Chi Yang’s voice cracked. She leaned against the door, her small body slowly sliding down.

“Alright,” Pei Jiuyao answered softly. “I’ll stay right here. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Wait for me to come back,” Chi Yang repeated.

And Pei Jiuyao answered her again and again, tirelessly, patiently. To her, Chi Yang now seemed less like a captor than a patient.

This was what Chi Yang called cold-blooded, heartless.

Yet clearly—Chi Yang was more sentimental than anyone.

After Chi Yang left, Pei Jiuyao picked up her phone, only to find there was no signal. Chi Yang must have cut off the villa’s network.

Pei Jiuyao didn’t understand the point of such theatrics, but if Chi Yang needed that to feel secure, she couldn’t be bothered to argue.

She lay back in bed and soon received a text from Chi Yang: [Wait for me to come back.]

At least her phone hadn’t been confiscated. Perhaps Chi Yang also needed to keep in touch, to reassure herself.

Pei Jiuyao wasn’t worried about Chi Yang’s survival. In the book, the Chi Yang of the future acted with methods no less ruthless than Chi Qing’s.

Knowing the ending, Pei Jiuyao should’ve been content to play the salted fish, but she couldn’t shake a strange fear of this room.

“7023, how much time do I have left on this mission?” With nothing else to do, she suddenly felt like chatting.

【You’ll be serving quite a few more years in prison.】

Pei Jiuyao was speechless. “That’s not me—that’s the original host.”

Clearly, this wasn’t a mission to be wrapped up anytime soon. After all, Chi Qing had been trapped here for eighteen years.

She didn’t plan to waste eighteen years.

But at the very least, she could stay here a little while longer—long enough to sort out her ending with Chi Yang, and only then think about where she herself should go.

That night, when Chi Yang came back, Pei Jiuyao was already asleep.

With no space to move about in the villa, no hope of strolling the garden anymore, drowsiness came over her faster than ever.

Chi Yang entered, locked the door again, and slipped into bed. Curling up in Pei Jiuyao’s arms, she suddenly whispered: “Yaoyao… can you sing that song for me again?”

They didn’t need to say which song. Both knew.

It was the one Pei Jiuyao had written for her.

Pei Jiuyao gently patted Chi Yang’s back and hummed the melody.

Her low voice lingered, soft and drawn-out in the quiet of the night. Chi Yang was on the verge of sleep when, half-dreaming, she tapped Pei Jiuyao’s chest and murmured: “Wrong.”

“What was wrong?” Pei Jiuyao asked.

Chi Yang’s voice was faint and drowsy, laced with a sleepy nasal tone. “The lyrics. You sang them wrong.”

Pei Jiuyao froze, realizing she had been staring blankly out the window and lost her place.

Wanting to lighten Chi Yang’s unease, she pinched her ear playfully. “Xiao Li, how many times have you secretly listened to it behind my back?”

Chi Yang slowly opened her misty, unfocused eyes.

“Didn’t you say it was never released? I only heard it once.”

She paused, then corrected herself with surprising precision: “Twice. You played it for me on the plane too.”

Only then did Pei Jiuyao remember—the song was supposed to be released during New Year, but because of her lawsuit with Tianji, its release had been delayed.

Just twice—and Chi Yang remembered the lyrics better than the songwriter herself.

Pei Jiuyao suddenly recalled how, back at Ostia Bay under the aurora, Chi Yang had naturally recited the lyrics aloud as if they were second nature.

“Xiao Li, you really do have a good memory.” She gently tugged one of her fox ears.

Chi Yang nudged her head into Pei Jiuyao’s palm. “I don’t know why. It just feels like I’ve heard it countless times.”

“Yaoyao… since that happened, how long has it been?”

Pei Jiuyao counted. “Less than half a year, I think.”

“And from then until I bought the ring, it’s only been… three months?” Chi Yang’s trembling lashes brushed softly against her neck.

After a moment, she whispered: “I never imagined I’d fall in love so quickly. It feels like… as if we’ve lived and died together countless times already, just to arrive here today.”

She gave a faint smile. “How can I love you this much?”

Lifting her gaze, she pressed her palm against Pei Jiuyao’s lips, then slowly let it fall.

“And you? Do you love me?”

Of course. Pei Jiuyao thought. I all but fell for you at first sight.

But was that even rational?

She honestly didn’t know—she had never been in love before.

For a while, she even suspected it was 7023 manipulating her, but it had always insisted it hadn’t.

Lowering her eyes, Pei Jiuyao looked into Chi Yang’s and answered firmly, word by word: “Of course I love you.”

The next day, Pei Jiuyao received a message from Jiang Tian. The old villa had finally sold—purchased by a woman with the surname Yang.

Curious, Pei Jiuyao asked: [Ms. Yang? Did she give her full name?]

Jiang Tian replied: [The contract was signed under the name Yang Chunhua. Payment was fast. We’ve already transferred the funds to Wen-jie’s account.]

Yang Chunhua.

Pei Jiuyao searched her memory for the name—

No impression.

Soon after, she received a call from Wen Li.

When the line connected, Wen Li was silent for a long time. In the end, all the words she wanted to say were swallowed back down, leaving only a quiet, “Thank you.”

Pei Jiuyao asked, “But the penalty fee was supposed to be mine—why would you pay it yourself?”

Wen Li gave a faint smile. “Mo Tian dumped the penalty on me. Since it was the company’s breach of contract, it’s only right that I cover it. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Wen-jie,” Pei Jiuyao took the chance to push her luck, “then… you’ll keep managing me, won’t you? Anyway, Mo Tian won’t let you take on other artists anymore, so from now on you can just—”

The more she spoke, the thicker her skin grew. In truth, she didn’t know if Wen Li was willing. After all, she herself was now locked away by Chi Yang and no longer in control of her own affairs.

Wen Li must have felt she was nothing more than a puppet.

Yet Wen Li only chuckled softly. “I told you before—plenty of managers want to sign you. Being able to manage you is already a stroke of luck for me.”

Pei Jiuyao knew that was as good as agreement.

“Wen-jie, that apartment you were planning to sell—I had someone buy it back for you. The key’s with Jiang Tian.”

For once, she felt she had accomplished something on her own. A faint smile touched her lips, lightening her expression.

But Wen Li let out a low laugh. “You two really know how to play big. For the Chi family’s company, you’re actually willing to let her get engaged to Mo Tian? Aren’t you afraid she’ll whisk her away?”

The smile froze instantly on Pei Jiuyao’s face.

“Engaged?”

“Chi Yang and Mo Tian are engaged. You didn’t know?” Realizing her slip, Wen Li’s voice faltered with rare unease.

Pei Jiuyao fell silent.

She didn’t know how much time passed before her consciousness seemed to sink back into her body.

“I know,” she said at last, her voice barely audible, though she forced a smile. “For the Chi family shares—she mentioned it before. She just didn’t say when. I was only stunned when you brought it up…”

Instinctively, she wanted to explain further, though she knew it was meaningless.

When she hung up, half her body felt numb.

She unlocked her phone, trembling fingers typing into the browser to search for news of Chi Yang’s engagement, misspelling words over and over. Every browser returned the same error: network unavailable.

So this was why Chi Yang had cut off her internet.

________________________________________

That evening, Chi Yang came back as usual. She locked the bedroom door, lay down beside Pei Jiuyao, and tried to make small talk.

“The camellias in the greenhouse bloomed. I wanted to bring one back for you, but in just a single day it withered and fell.”

“The whole flower fell off—without a single leaf left,” Chi Yang repeated softly. “I meant to show it to you. You even watered it once.”

Pei Jiuyao held her close as always. “Didn’t the whole blossom fall? You could still bring it here.”

The body in her arms stilled. After a long pause, Chi Yang whispered, “I didn’t think—I threw it away.”

“I thought only the flowers that stayed rooted were real.” Her voice was low, almost fragile.

It was such a strange remark, yet it made Pei Jiuyao’s heart ache. “Then we’ll plant more. I’ll do it with you.”

“Mhm,” Chi Yang answered softly. “Once things settle down, I’ll buy some more.”

That should have been the end of it. A few more words, goodnight, and sleep in each other’s arms.

But Pei Jiuyao’s chest ached with pity for her. The words slipped out before she could stop them: “Are you engaged to Mo Tian?”

Chi Yang’s drowsy eyes snapped open. She stared hard at Pei Jiuyao, her voice trembling as her hands clutched at Pei Jiuyao’s collar. “How did you know?”

The sudden intensity made Pei Jiuyao freeze.

Chi Yang abruptly sat up, eyes wide. “You went out? You left, didn’t you?!”

“I didn’t,” Pei Jiuyao placed her palm against Chi Yang’s cheek. “Xiao Li, calm down.”

Her bloodshot eyes bored into Pei Jiuyao’s, desperate to uncover something there.

Pei Jiuyao cradled her head between her hands, coaxing her back. “Chi Yang, calm down.”

“You didn’t leave?” Slowly, her dazed pupils focused again. Her grip loosened, though not before she left raw scratches across Pei Jiuyou’s collarbone.

“Wen Li called me. She told me,” Pei Jiuyao said gently, running her fingers through Chi Yang’s hair.

“Wen Li…” Chi Yang trembled, then snatched up Pei Jiuyao’s phone. “Don’t… don’t use this again for now…”

“What am I, a prisoner?” Pei Jiuyao cupped her face, forcing her to meet her gaze. “Xiao Li, you can’t lock me up like this.”

Chi Yang’s body shook, her eyes red, her voice hoarse. “It’ll be over soon. It’ll all be over soon…”

Those beautiful fox-like eyes brimmed with fear, their usual charm drowned in pallor and bloodless lips.

“Listen to me,” Pei Jiuyao’s chest felt as though it was being torn apart, “Chi Yang, you have to trust me. I should be at your side helping you, not trapped here in the dark!”

Chi Yang’s eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t want to marry her. It isn’t real. But she has Minghe’s shares…” Her voice broke, splintering until she was choking on the words.

“I didn’t want you to know—I don’t even know why—I don’t know why I lied to you…” Collapsing against Pei Jiuyao’s shoulder, her body shook with helpless sobs.

“Will you hate me for this?” she asked in a broken whisper, despair laced with tears.

“I know you’re doing it for Minghe. But you can’t keep me locked away,” Pei Jiuyao’s heart twisted painfully as she stroked her back. “Let me out. I can help you.”

“No!” Chi Yang’s head snapped up.

“You don’t trust me at all, do you?” Pei Jiuyao met her eyes. “Is this the only way you can keep me—with chains?”

“You’re right, Pei Jiuyao. I don’t trust you.” Chi Yang tore herself from her arms. Her eyes brimmed with tears, yet her face turned suddenly cold.

Holding the phone, she backed away a few steps. “If you say you love me, then stay here. Prove you won’t leave me—not by asking me to believe you.”

“Chi Yang!” Pei Jiuyao chased after her. “You can’t shut me out of your world. We’re lovers—I’m not your captive!”

But Chi Yang retreated swiftly, slipped out, and locked the door from outside. Her trembling fingers clung to the doorknob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against the door, her voice breaking into a pleading tone. “I just want to protect you. Please—just listen to me, alright?”

It was almost a prayer.

Pei Jiuyao’s lashes trembled. She called out “Chi Yang,” slammed her palm against the door, but all she heard were footsteps fading down the stairs.

________________________________________

She didn’t know how long she slept in her haze. When she woke again, the door was ajar.

Her pulse jumped. She stepped outside.

A woman was standing in the living room.

“Who are you?” Pei Jiuyao rubbed her temples and descended the stairs.

The woman turned. Her face was unfamiliar.

“I’m Chi Yue—Chi Yang’s second aunt.”

A rival of the Chi family.

Showing up here now could only mean trouble.

“You’re Pei Jiuyao?” she asked.

Her instinct said she should deny it, but the answer slipped out before she could stop it: “I am.”

“So you’re Pei Jiuyao.” Chi Yue sneered, drawing a pistol from her waist and leveling it at Pei Jiuyao’s forehead.

Pei Jiuyao’s palm went cold. “That’s contraband. Where did you get it?”

Chi Yue let out a mocking laugh. “Illegal here, yes. But plentiful abroad.”

“What do you want?” Pei Jiuyao frowned slightly, body tense.

“Chi Yang may be engaged to Mo Tian, but she’s still hiding you away here.” Chi Yue smiled. “Seems you really do matter to her.”

“Do you think if I use you to threaten her, she’ll hand over Minghe’s shares?”

Pei Jiuyao forced herself to stay calm. “If she truly loved me, she wouldn’t be engaged to Mo Tian. I’m nothing more than a passing diversion to her.”

But Chi Yue didn’t back down. “Then let’s gamble.”

The two stared each other down for a long moment—until the urgent sound of someone punching in a code echoed from the door.

Bang!