After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 56.2

Chi Yang made a round of the hall, politely greeting familiar colleagues and business partners before picking up a glass of champagne and settling onto a sofa in the corner.

It was a perfect vantage point. With just a slight turn of her head, she could take in the entire venue.

Who was milling around the floor, who was coming down from upstairs, who was entering from outside—nothing escaped her eyes.

She was waiting for someone.

Even though she didn’t know if that person would come. Even though she didn’t know how she would face her if they really did meet.

Still, Chi Yang came.

She had hidden herself away for so long, tucked into a hard shell, afraid of the answer. Yet in truth, the answer had been sealed a year ago.

Her therapist once told her: obsessions only linger because she refuses to leave the past and take that one step forward.

Chi Yang thought, This step was my mistake. In the end, it’s mine to repay.

After sitting for a while, a woman in a suit approached to greet her. Chi Yang knew her—one of this year’s rising entrepreneurs, with ties to the Bai family that was ambiguous at best.

Just as the woman was about to leave, Chi Yang asked softly, “Bai Zhi isn’t here tonight?”

“She’s here, upstairs.” The woman smiled faintly, revealing a dark beauty mark beneath her eye.

Chi Yang lifted her gaze toward the upper floor. A massive panel of tinted glass stared back at her—impenetrable.

Of course, she couldn’t see if anyone was standing behind it. Still, her body reacted instinctively, as if hiding from a shadow.

Even so, she stared for half a minute before lowering her head again.

The supposed appointment with “Ms. Wang,” the so-called investor, was nothing but a pretext.

Chi Yang knew all too well the rumors circulating this past year—that Pei Jiuyao had become Bai Zhi’s kept canary. At every public function, Bai Zhi would bring her along, parading her as a companion.

Each time photos of them appeared, Chi Yang could never sort out what exactly she felt inside.

Back then, it had been her own hand that delivered Pei Jiuyao to Xingchong. For the eastern district business project with the Bai family, Chi Yang gave Bai Zhi eighty percent of the profit in exchange for her keeping Jiuyao and Shi Nian.

Was that the right choice?

At the very least, she knew this much now—she regretted it.

Chi Yang took another sip of her drink, then glanced upward again.

It was entirely possible that Bai Zhi and Pei Jiuyao were up there, right above her, watching her through the glass. What would they think, seeing her sit alone like this?

Was someone standing there now? Bai Zhi? Or Pei Jiuyao?

She didn’t dare look at Jiuyao.

But if it was Bai Zhi—at that thought, Chi Yang’s lips curved faintly, almost in spite of herself.

Pei Jiuyao’s eyes darkened, brows faintly drawing together.

What is she smiling at? Mocking me?

Even knowing Chi Yang couldn’t possibly see her, Jiuyao felt a sting of irritation at that smile.

As if it was ridiculing her—Look at how well I’m living without you. And you? You’re just a caged pet, a little canary. A fate you’ll never escape.

【Regarding false rumors of “romance,” legal action will be taken against those who spread them.】

Hah. Chi Yang probably thought it was fate that had torn them apart. In reality, someone had simply tossed away a disobedient little dog.

Never cared, not once.

【Host, are you still doing your mission or not?】 7023 whispered cautiously.

“I’m not. Let me just die here.” Jiuyao slammed her glass onto the table, rising to her feet. But when she heard someone call, “President Bai—”, she couldn’t help stepping toward the glass.

Bai Zhi descended the staircase. Chi Yang turned her head, raised her glass in silent greeting, and remained seated—her smile cool, aloof, untouchable.

On some impulse, Jiuyao tore open the garment bag, stripped out the gown within, and changed.

“President Bai.”

Bai Zhi blinked in surprise. Just a moment ago, Jiuyao had been in her suit, idly swirling a glass of plain water.

Now, in the blink of an eye, she was descending the stairs in a deep blue velvet gown, hair pinned up, moving gracefully down step by step.

Suppressing a sigh, Bai Zhi discreetly pressed her tongue against her cheek, rolled her eyes, then slipped into her public mask. She reached out, smiling brightly. “Weren’t you feeling unwell? Why come down?”

“I feel better.” Jiuyao slipped her hand into Bai Zhi’s, lightly looping her arm through hers.

Sure enough, every gaze in the hall shifted toward them.

Every gaze but Chi Yang’s.

At some point she had risen from the sofa and was chatting animatedly with the CEO of another company.

Bai Zhi led Jiuyao through the crowd for a round of social pleasantries, yet Chi Yang never once looked back.

Not far away, Jiuyao’s glass was emptied, and Bai Zhi immediately summoned someone to refill it.

A man across from them teased, “Miss Pei, you don’t drink?”

“Her stomach’s delicate. I never let her drink.” Bai Zhi refilled the glass and passed it to Jiuyao, adding with a smile, “I’ll have to trouble you to forgive her.”

Unthinkingly, Jiuyao glanced at Chi Yang’s back. It seemed to stiffen, almost imperceptibly. Was it her imagination?

“President Bai, you really do treat Miss Pei well.”

“Of course. How many Alphas as beautiful as her do you see?”

Only then did Chi Yang cast a fleeting glance their way, before quickly looking away again.

Jiuyao’s eyes dimmed.

Why did I even come down here? Dressed like this—was it to show her?

The thought made everything suddenly seem meaningless.

She tugged at Bai Zhi’s sleeve, lowered her eyes, and murmured, “I’m a little tired.”

Bai Zhi gave her a sidelong glance, patting her hand with a look that carried far too many meanings. “Then why insist on coming down? Go rest upstairs.”

Jiuyao withdrew her arm, set the glass aside, and passed behind Chi Yang on her way back upstairs.

A faint strawberry scent drifted past her nose—illusory, impossible.

She knew Chi Yang would never deliberately release her pheromones in public. She knew it was only her mind playing tricks. And yet she still raised her wrist, turning her inhibitor up to maximum.

Back in the lounge, Jiuyao yanked open the zipper of her gown with force, tossed it onto the sofa, and changed back into her suit.

Only then did she notice a fresh cut across the back of her hand where the zipper had scraped her.

Her body wasn’t truly tired, but her heart—her heart was exhausted, as though her very bones had fallen apart. She collapsed onto the sofa in silence.

A year ago, after learning Chi Yang’s funding had collapsed, Jiuyao had signed a gambling agreement with Bai Zhi. But no matter how much money was on the contract, it was never enough to fill Chi Yang’s void.

So Jiuyao signed something worse: a “slave contract.”

Beyond the physical relationship, she had to answer Bai Zhi’s summons at any time, take on whatever jobs were assigned, mentor whomever Bai Zhi demanded—without refusal.

That was why Wen Li once said she’d nearly sold herself off to Xingchong.

With Bai Zhi’s money, Jiuyao invested in Minghe under the alias “Wang Qiushui,” a supposed overseas entrepreneur. To avoid Chi Yang’s suspicion, she even claimed fifty percent of the acquired company’s profit in the contract.

When she sent tonight’s invitation, Jiuyao never expected Chi Yang to come. It was a reflex, nothing more—just like the countless invitations she had sent over the past year, all of which were rejected without fail.

She hadn’t realized how convenient the “Wang Qiushui” identity would turn out to be. If she had, she would never have delivered the invitation into Chi Yang’s hands.

Because Jiuyao wasn’t truly trying to see her. She was only trying to fill the hollow in her chest.

She didn’t want to seek Chi Yang out herself, didn’t want to unravel the truth of those words spoken a year ago—how much had been real, how much a lie? After all, even in their last life, Chi Yang had said: “I’d marry Mo Tian before I’d ever like you.”

Unless Chi Yang came to her first.

But now? Now it all felt pointless. Chi Yang clearly had no intention of finding her, while she herself was parading around like a peacock.

“I don’t love Chi Yang anymore. Whether she comes to me or not—what does it matter?” Jiuyao whispered into the empty lounge.

7023, oblivious to the mood, chirped in: 【Host, but you have to love her—your life’s still in her hands!】

Pei Jiuyao’s eyelids twitched. “Say one more word and I’ll strangle you.”

She pulled out a tissue, wiped the blood off the back of her hand, and went upstairs to the second-floor restroom.

As she was drying her hands, the door suddenly swung open. Pei Jiuyao turned around—and froze. That striking red dress came into view, making her stiffen from head to toe, her neck locked, forgetting to turn back.

Chi Yang, on the other hand, showed no particular expression. She walked in and asked, “Just washing my hands. You don’t mind, do you?”

Pei Jiuyao turned away and continued drying her hands, her voice low. “Suit yourself.”

Behind her came the sound of running water and liquid soap being squeezed out.

She remembered the way Chi Yang washed her hands—meticulous to a fault. Rubbing foam into every crease between her fingers, over every curve of her fingertips, scrubbing until the skin flushed red, then rinsing it all away and carefully blotting them dry with a tissue.

Sure enough, she soon heard the rustle of paper towels being pulled out.

“It’s been a while,” Chi Yang said from behind her.

Pei Jiuyao lowered her hands. She guessed Chi Yang might come closer, so she decided to leave first.

But just as she turned, Chi Yang asked, “Your hand—did you hurt it?”

“Just a scratch.” Pei Jiuyao’s tone was flat. Her gaze slid past the trailing hem of that red dress and landed on the doorknob.

She was about to leave when—“snap!” Chi Yang’s hand closed around her wrist.

Pei Jiuyao’s fingers twitched. She tried to pull away instinctively, but Chi Yang tightened her grip.

Frowning slightly, she looked up into Chi Yang’s eyes. “What are you doing?”

Those light brown eyes were cool and emotionless at first, but when they met Pei Jiuyao’s, a faint glimmer stirred in them—followed by a smile.

It came quickly, almost in a flash. Even her lips curved with it.

Pei Jiuyao was reminded of that provocative smile she had seen through the glass earlier. But this smile was different—less of a challenge, softer… almost tender.

She couldn’t quite define it. Somehow, her guard slipped before she realized it.

Still, her voice stayed icy, her body tense with resistance. “What do you want?”

“Don’t be afraid.” Chi Yang’s smile deepened.

Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle—soft, light. In Pei Jiuyao’s memory, she had almost never spoken like this.

Even in her imagination, Chi Yang was always cold, aloof, distant.

But now she repeated it, even softer: “Don’t be afraid.”

Her breath brushed the words into the air.

Then she slowly let go of Pei Jiuyao’s wrist and reached into her purse.

After rummaging for half a minute, she pulled out a band-aid and handed it over. “Be more careful next time.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Be more careful next time.

Why say it like they were close—and yet not?

Pei Jiuyao snatched it quickly, muttering, “Thanks.”

Chi Yang stepped forward. “Then you—”

“I’m leaving,” Pei Jiuyao cut her off, lifting her head.