After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 55.1

[February 14, 2026]
Minghe Biotech

The massive automatic doors slowly slid open. A stark metallic design stretched from the ground floor all the way to the vaulted ceiling, cold and imposing.

Ten-centimeter heels clicked crisply against the white tiles as a woman made her way toward the private elevator.

Ding—

“Secretary Lin.”

A woman in a fitted black suit with a neat short haircut approached, handing over a folder. “This year’s financial report from Huai’en Pharmaceuticals. Please give it to my sister.”

“President Chi, why the trouble of bringing it yourself?” Secretary Lin smiled as she accepted it. “Won’t you go in?”

“I’ll pass.” The young woman leaned lazily against Lin’s desk. “Where’s Sister Xinyi?”

“She’s in her office scolding someone. Best not walk into her storm.”

Suppressing a laugh, Secretary Lin skirted the desk and headed toward a one-way glass door. She paused, rapped lightly.

“Come in.”

The voice that floated out was cool, detached.

Secretary Lin pushed open the door. “President Chi, last year’s financial report from Huai’en Pharmaceuticals.”

“Leave it there.”

Behind the desk sat a woman with black, softly curled hair, the corners of her eyes slightly upturned, lashes long and thick. Her pupils were pale, like liquid gold glinting under sunlight.

Her skin was porcelain fair, nose delicate, lips pressed together like a strawberry ripening but not yet ripe.

Her features were so refined they could have belonged to a limited-edition doll displayed behind glass—meant for posters, camera lenses, or the silver screen, destined to leave an indelible mark as someone’s eternal white moonlight.

Yet now she was dressed in a silk shirt beneath a tailored black suit, seated at a wide desk, idly twirling a pen between her fingers.

The office was warm. Her jacket hung open, two buttons of her shirt undone, exposing a crude, roughly made necklace that clashed with everything else she wore.

To this day, Secretary Lin still didn’t understand how this woman had clawed her way out of that brutal power struggle to sit where she sat now.

“Where has Chi Leya run off to again?”

“She went to—” Secretary Lin caught herself, swallowing the word play. “To work with President Shen, I believe.”

Those pale eyes lifted, a faint smile flashing within them.

Chi Yang tapped her fingertips lightly against the desk. “Someone ought to be sent to Huai’en to keep her in line.”

“She’s still young,” Secretary Lin offered with a chuckle.

Barely a year out of university, and she had already established herself at Huai’en Pharmaceuticals. Admirable, to say the least.

But Chi Yang seemed unsatisfied.

Sometimes Secretary Lin suspected her boss was grooming Chi Leya as her successor—eager to hand over the reins the moment the younger woman graduated.

“I already had my own studio at her age,” Chi Yang set the pen aside. “Anything else on the schedule today? If not, I’d like to see an old acquaintance this afternoon.”

At the word acquaintance, her smile thinned, sharpened into something glacial.

Secretary Lin often thought her current boss was far more frightening than the one before her.

But her own job was simple: know her place, do her work, and keep her mouth shut.

“Nothing else this afternoon. But do you remember the lady who financed us last year?”

A year ago, when Chi Yang’s acquisition of the Mo family business nearly collapsed due to a broken cash flow, a woman surnamed Wang had stepped in—solving the problem in exchange for half the acquired company’s annual profit.

Even so, she had been Chi Yang’s savior.

But Chi Yang had never met her. All anyone knew was a name, Wang Qiushui, said to be a foreign entrepreneur. Not a trace more could be found online.

“She sent you an invitation for tonight’s Valentine’s banquet.” Secretary Lin handed it over. “Will you attend?”

It would be best to thank such an investor in person.

Chi Yang accepted it. “Prepare me a gown. Nothing extravagant.”

She paused, then added, “And make it the color I like.”

After Secretary Lin left, Chi Yang picked up her car keys, drove across half the city, and stopped in front of a rusted iron gate.

She looked up. The pale sun broke through a soft blue sky, spilling over her. A breeze stirred the sparse trees along the barren ground, their leaves rustling.

Creak—

The heavy gate swung open.

“Inmate Z0112460, you have a visitor.”

Shackles clinked as a woman was led into the visitation room. Her fists clenched, her eyes instantly reddening.

Chi Yang lifted the phone, her face expressionless as she met that gaze.

“Second Aunt. Long time no see.”

“You still dare come here?” Chi Yue’s hand trembled as she gripped the receiver.

Chi Yang let out a soft laugh. “You’re the criminal, not me. Why wouldn’t I dare?”

“You—”

She cut her off. “Second Aunt, Yuxuan’s birthday is coming up. They say a child’s birthday is a mother’s day of suffering. So I thought I’d visit—to see how much you’ve suffered. You look… fine.”

“Chi Yang! You little wretch! The Chi family raised you for nothing!”

“Prisoner, calm down!”

Guards forced her back into her seat. Chi Yue flinched and stilled.

Chi Yang briefly held the receiver away, then returned it to her ear.

“Yuxuan’s a pity, though. Bright girl. Could’ve gone abroad to study, if only there was money. You didn’t know, did you? Last time I visited her school, her classmates called her the murderer’s daughter to her face. Where she lives—tsk, a rat hole.”

“Chi Yang! I’ll kill you! I swear, when I get out, I’ll kill you!” Chi Yue’s eyes were bloodshot, her body thrashing until she was restrained again.

Chi Yang remained unmoved. “But you’ll never kill me. You’ll never get out.”

Chi Yue pressed her palms against the glass, her face collapsing in an instant, looking twenty years older.

“Please, Chi Yang. Leave Yuxuan out of this. She’s innocent. Take my life if you want—just spare my daughter!”

Chi Yang rubbed her ear, her tone flat. “Innocent? Hardly.”

“She shot at me once, remember?” She tugged her collar aside, revealing a faint scar at her shoulder. “If I hadn’t spared her, she’d be in here with you already.”

“I’m merciful, really.” Her voice was calm, almost contemplative.

“But I’ll keep her alive. If you die in here, she won’t survive. And if she dies, neither will you. I’ll make sure you both keep living.”

“Chi Yang! You devil! You—”

The line went dead.

Chi Yang sat coldly on her side of the glass, watching as Chi Yue broke down screaming, dragged away by guards.

________________________________________

In just one year, two major events had shaken the city.

The first: renowned director Lin Leyi was found dead at home from alcohol poisoning. She was thirty-four. The media called it “the fall of cinema’s morning star.”

Her obituary, like her life, began with a litany of awards. Yet no string of honors could capture the vastness of her talent, nor the stormy brilliance of her journey.

Lin Leyi had been born for cinema. In her time, she cast a shadow so long many claimed they saw no future for themselves beneath it. And yet, countless filmmakers rushed forward in pursuit—just to brush against the edge of her vision.

At her funeral, a renowned director wept bitterly, declaring that the film industry would fall silent for at least a hundred years.

Yet only a handful of people knew who she had truly died for.

Not long after, Huai’en Pharmaceuticals’ president, Chi Qing, also passed away. The award-winning actress Chi Yang announced her retirement from the entertainment industry, taking over the family business. Within just a year, the entire Chi family’s power structure was overturned.

Chi Yang acquired all the shares held by Chi Qing, Chi Leya, and a certain illegitimate daughter, becoming the de facto controlling shareholder of Minghe. Chi Yue, convicted of kidnapping, premeditated murder, and illegal possession of firearms, was sentenced to life imprisonment. Chi Ran, after a last-minute surrender to Chi Yang, was cast aside and relegated to menial tasks at a marginal subsidiary.

Every ally who had joined Chi Yang in her power struggle reaped their rewards—except Mo Tian.

Chi Yang’s fiancée in name only, Mo Tian nearly lost her entire family fortune to Chi Yang’s schemes, and in the end, Chi Yang unilaterally announced the annulment of their engagement, kicking her to the curb.

For an entire year, financial headlines were dominated by the Chi family’s acquisition of the Mo conglomerate. Today, the rankings of Haishi’s financial aristocracy look entirely different: Mo Tian fell from untouchable first place to fifth.

The top two spots are now firmly held by the Bai and Chi families, while third and fourth are occupied by new industries that surged in the past year.

At first, the media ridiculed Mo Tian as “getting what she deserved” and “the ultimate fool.” But over time, the narrative morphed into something almost romanticized: “love-struck,” “a big idiot who squandered her fortune for love.”

Wen Li glanced at a tabloid headline that read “Mo Tian sacrificed the entire Mo family to place Chi Yang on the altar”. She gave a cold, humorless laugh and switched off her phone.

“Jiang Tian, where’s Pei Jiuyao?”

Jiang Tian, just back with an evening gown in hand, looked over at Wen Li, who sat on a stool sipping coffee. “Pei-jie said she went to visit an old acquaintance.”

“What sort of acquaintance needs visiting today of all days?” Wen Li drained the last drop of coffee, tossed the empty cup into the trash, and leaned back lazily against the stool. “She’s got an interview coming up, and a dinner banquet tonight. Get her back here, now.”

Jiang Tian nodded quickly, set down the dress, and hurried to make the call.

When Pei Jiuyao answered, she gave only a short “Mm,” then hung up and slipped her phone into her suit pocket.

Before her stretched a desolate cemetery. Two slabs of white marble stood side by side: one engraved with Lin Leyi, the other with Chi Qing.

Between the two stones, carved in crimson seal script, ran two lines: “A thousand years, ten thousand lives; the pepper blossoms sing in praise.”

Pei Jiuyao placed a bouquet of lilies between the graves. Her dark hair lifted in the wind, strands scattering into the air. Ink-black eyes fixed on the two tombstones, her gaze fathomless.

—She wondered if they had found each other again.

A year had sharpened her bones, made her features more chiseled, her eyes more resolute. Her face carried the weight of untold stories.

At last year’s Golden Cloud Awards, Mountains and Seas swept Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Actress.

Best Supporting Actress, however, had been a fierce tug-of-war between Pei Jiuyao and Sheng Xia.

No one expected the long-favored “supporting actress gatekeeper” Sheng Xia to lose out, but she did. With that, Pei Jiuyao shed the label of “pretty face” once and for all, rising as a breakout star in the film industry.

Several acclaimed directors even publicly declared Pei Jiuyao to be their muse.

Script offers and commercial endorsements poured in. In no time, she became Xingchong Entertainment’s top-billed actress.

Standing beside her was Shi Nian, an Omega who casually hooked an arm over her shoulder.

Initially, Pei Jiuyao hadn’t wanted Shi Nian as her assistant, but Bai Zhi insisted on assigning her as a personal aide.

The Omega was hopelessly clingy, always sticking close, fussing over her life down to the last detail—making sure she didn’t smoke, drink, party, or flirt with women.

Not that Pei Jiuyao would ever go clubbing or womanizing. At most, some minor starlets at events tried to stir up CP rumors with her.

Shi Nian, without fail, found ways to swat them away.

Pei Jiuyao sometimes wondered if Shi Nian had a crush on her. When she bluntly said she wasn’t into Omegas, Shi Nian laughed it off and kept teasing her about it for an entire year.