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

“Oh. Okay.” Chi Yang seemed to swallow back the words she had been about to say. Instead, she added, “Then take care.”

Pei Jiuyao gave a curt “mm” and walked out of the restroom.

Her head was still a mess.

Why tell me to be careful again? What, does she think I don’t know how to walk?

She pushed open the lounge door, only to misstep on the stairs. Pain shot through her foot, and she hissed, clutching her face with one hand, leaning against the wall until it eased.

Pain in Pei Jiuyao’s body, anguish in 7023’s heart. The system cried out: 【Host, please be careful!】

“Shut up!” Pei Jiuyao snapped, her temper unusually short today. “Who the hell repairs stairs right at a lounge door?!”

With a loud “bang,” she slammed the door shut and collapsed on the sofa.

Calm down. I’m supposed to be the composed, gentle type. My persona cannot break.

【Host, you’ve never once been the gentle type…】

“Can you just go die?”

Finally driving 7023 away, Pei Jiuyao exhaled deeply, stretched out on the sofa, and picked up the band-aid.

She was about to put it on when she tore open the wrapper—and froze.

It wasn’t a plain band-aid at all, but a printed one. A tiny cartoon fox grinned up at her.

Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, that fox turned into Chi Yang’s face, with two fox ears bouncing atop her head—drooping slightly, then perking upright again.

Pei Jiuyao stiffened, her gaze darkening as she clenched the band-aid in her palm.

Probably just a random purchase. The packaging didn’t show it was a printed one anyway.

She lifted it again, stared for a moment, then tossed it into the trash.

But after a pause, she fished it back out and slipped it into her suit pocket.

She didn’t know how much time passed. She dozed off on the sofa, half-dreaming. Someone came in to ask how she was getting home.

“Driving myself,” she murmured before drifting off again.

It wasn’t until a staff member noticed the lounge light was still on that they came in and shook her awake.

Pei Jiuyao rubbed her eyes and sat up. “The event’s over?”

“Everyone’s gone,” the staffer said.

So she had overslept.

She rubbed her head and saw her gown had already been taken away—probably Bai Zhi had stopped by.

Rising, she put on her coat, thanked the staff, and headed downstairs.

The hall was dim; workers were clearing up, most of the lights already off. Only a few warm, amber lamps cast a hazy glow over the night.

That was when she saw someone still sitting on the sofa.

As she drew closer, the red dress caught her eye. It was Chi Yang.

Just as she was about to ask, “Why are you still here,” Chi Yang turned around first.

Maybe because her irises were so light, her pupils gleamed brightly in the dark, while Pei Jiuyao’s eyes were like a bottomless black whirlpool.

Their gazes locked. Chi Yang’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Why are you still here?”

“Fell asleep,” Pei Jiuyao replied.

Chi Yang waited, but when Pei Jiuyao didn’t add anything more, she asked again, “How are you getting home?”

“Driving.”

In her memory, Pei Jiuyao had never been this taciturn. Back then, whenever Chi Yang asked something, she would practically hand over her whole life story.

She must really hate me now. After all, I’d said such cruel things back then. And now, what’s the point of acting like I care?

Chi Yang lowered her head, let out a self-mocking laugh, then lifted her gaze again. “I was supposed to drive too, but I just remembered—I had some wine.”

Pei Jiuyao thought, I didn’t ask.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Should she ask how Chi Yang planned to get home?

Silence spread through the air.

Chi Yang felt a little awkward. She had never interacted with anyone like this before—every extra word she spoke had to be weighed carefully, yet no response ever came back to her.

For the longest time, it had always been Pei Jiuyao catering to her, worried about her discomfort or unhappiness. Pei would go out of her way to ask, “Do you want me to drive you home?” or unnecessarily offer, “Should I pick you up tomorrow?”

Until one day, she stopped asking. Only then did Chi Yang suddenly realize how empty it felt at her side.

Maybe she had never wanted to share the same car with her, never wanted to breathe the same air. Otherwise, why would she subconsciously keep her distance whenever she passed by? Why would she raise her wristband’s filter the moment Chi Yang tentatively released a trace of pheromones?

“I’ll head out first,” Pei Jiuyao said.

Better not to ask, she thought. Of course an assistant would come pick up Chi Yang. President Chi would hardly walk home by herself. Asking would only make her look foolish.

Just as she turned to leave, Chi Yang suddenly called after her. “Miss Pei.”

Pei Jiuyao halted mid-step. “Is there something else?”

“My assistant can’t make it. I’ll have to call a cab, but with this face…” Chi Yang lowered her gaze slightly. “A lot of people recognize me. Could I trouble you to give me a ride?”

Pei Jiuyao froze where she stood. She understood every word, but it took her a moment to process what Chi Yang truly meant.

She mustn’t misinterpret. She didn’t want to come across as if she was desperate.

Chi Yang mistook her silence for refusal and gave a wry smile. “It’s fine. If you’re busy, go ahead. I’ll find someone else to pick me up.”

“Mo Tian?” Pei asked suddenly.

“…What?” Chi Yang had just unlocked her phone when she quickly looked up at the question. “I haven’t been in contact with her for ages.”

“Oh…” Pei Jiuyao turned around. “Then let’s go.”

Chi Yang’s fingers tightened around her phone. Not sure she’d heard correctly, she hurried after her. “Miss Pei, are you saying you’ll drive me?”

“Didn’t you say you could only take a cab?” Pei replied.

Chi Yang blinked, then hastily stuffed her phone into her purse. “Right, no one’s coming for me. I already checked. Thank you, Miss Pei.”

“That dress of yours wouldn’t make it easy to get into a cab anyway.”

Chi Yang trailed behind her. Pei Jiuyao’s strides were long, her tailored suit pants adding to the speed of her pace. Chi Yang had no choice but to clutch her hem and trot after her.

She didn’t slow down, didn’t wait for her. That stung a little.

A year ago… Pei Jiuyao would have held up her dress for her—maybe even carried her outright.

Still, despite the pang in her chest, Chi Yang felt secretly glad for the ride. She smiled. “It really isn’t convenient.”

When Pei unlocked the car, Chi Yang gathered her gown in her arms and squeezed herself into the passenger seat.

Pei got in afterward and glanced at her. Chi Yang, caught staring at her, blinked dazedly. “What is it?”

“Buckle up,” Pei said.

“Oh.” Flustered, Chi Yang fumbled with the seatbelt before finally managing to click it into place.

Pei started the car and pulled out.

Chi Yang clutched the belt, shifting her gown to the far edges of the seat as much as possible.

The car was cold. Even with the heater on, it still felt cold.

Because neither of them spoke.

Uneasy, Chi Yang forced conversation. “You haven’t changed cars?”

“Got used to it.” Pei’s answer was brief. “Where to?”

“The villa from before—the one you stayed in.” She paused, then clarified awkwardly, “Not the one I later locked you in, the—”

“I know,” Pei cut her off.

Chi Yang bit her lip lightly.

Why bring up that? It had been the imprisonment that broke them apart.

She glanced at the wound on Pei’s hand. “You didn’t cover it with a band-aid?”

Pei gave it a quick glance, then fixed her gaze back on the road. “Not used to it.”

“You should. If it gets infected, that’ll be bad.” Chi Yang turned to her, as though steeling herself.

Clenching her teeth, she said, “Where do you keep them? I’ll put one on for you.”

“Don’t remember,” Pei answered as she steered through a turn. “Might’ve left them in the lounge.”

Something Chi Yang had given her, just tossed aside.

So cruel.

Her heart sank, but she quickly smoothed it over, rummaging through her purse. She pulled out a band-aid of her own, peeled it open, and held it out. “I have one. Let me.”

Pei kept one hand on the wheel and extended the other.

Chi Yang carefully took her fingers, pressing the little fox-printed band-aid onto the back of her hand, smoothing it down with delicate precision.

When Pei withdrew her hand, she rubbed her damp palms against her trousers and secretly let out a breath.

“We’re here.” She parked in front of the villa.

Chi Yang unbuckled her belt but didn’t get out. She turned to her. “You still remember this place.”

Pei rested her hands on the wheel, engine still running. “It’s only been a year. Not so easy to forget.”

She regretted it as soon as it left her mouth—it sounded like it carried meaning. Fortunately, Chi Yang didn’t dwell on it, only saying, “That’s good.”

“Busy with work at Xingchong?” Chi Yang asked.

“It’s fine,” Pei replied, then added, “Pretty busy, actually.”

She kept her eyes on the road, never once turning to look at her. Chi Yang twisted her fingers together, something in her chest collapsing into emptiness.

“Any schedules coming up?”

“Still filming,” Pei said.

“And you still made it to the banquet?”

“Bai Zhi wanted me here. I squeezed it in.”

“And you?” Pei finally turned, glancing at her. “Aren’t you busy too? How did you find time for this?”

“Mm…” Chi Yang hesitated. “I came to see an investor. She sent me the invitation. But when I asked around, no one seemed to know her.”

“Wang Qiushui. Do you know her?”

That soft “mm” sent Pei’s thoughts spiraling. Chi Yang used to make those sticky, gentle sounds—mm, uh-huh, mhm—all so cute, like she was acting spoiled.

And Pei had noticed, she never made them in front of anyone else. It had been her private way of softening to Pei Jiuyao.

It took her a long moment to answer. “Don’t know her.”

“But I’ve heard of her. Supposedly a foreign entrepreneur. Bai Zhi mentioned her. She might know her.” Pei looked back at Chi Yang. “Want me to ask around for you?”

“No…” Chi Yang started to refuse, then caught Pei’s eyes and changed her mind.

“Then yes. Could you check and text me later?” Worried Pei might misunderstand, she quickly explained, “She invested a lot into Minghe. I just want to thank her in person.”

When Pei showed no particular reaction, Chi Yang lifted her phone. “Do you still have my number?”

“Haven’t deleted it.” Her reply was clipped.

Chi Yang nodded. “Good.”

“Then I’ll get going.” She gave Pei one last look before closing the door.

The world fell silent again.

Pei glanced down at the band-aid. The warmth of Chi Yang’s touch still lingered there.

She rubbed her fingers together. It was as if she could still feel those soft hands against her skin.

After a long while, she peeled the band-aid off and pressed it to the back of her phone, sliding it under the case. The car felt hot with the AC blasting. She shrugged off her jacket, draped it over the seat, and started the engine.