After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine - Chapter 58

Friday afternoon, Jiang Tang was at the apartment packing their luggage, while Pei Jiuyao went to pick up Bai Nian.

She wasn’t doing this purely because of Bai Zhi’s “task.”

Bai Nian was an interesting child—clever beyond her years. Perhaps because of the environment she grew up in, she was already sharp at reading people’s hearts at such a young age.

On adults, such traits might make others wary, even repelled. But because Bai Nian was still a child, untouched by worldly concerns, that precociousness instead seemed amusing.

Pei Jiuyao disliked the feeling of being seen through. That was one of the reasons she hadn’t enjoyed being around Wen Li much in the past year.

And yet, there were times she had a craving to be read, to be understood—an odd kind of need that became one of her rare outlets.

At such times, being with Bai Nian felt like stumbling upon a pocket of purity amid a chaotic, vulgar world. Perhaps that was the true significance of children’s existence—especially one as obedient and well-behaved as her.

It was still bitterly cold in February, the wind sharp as blades.

Pei Jiuyao sat by the window of a convenience store across the street, sipping a carton of soy milk. From her seat, she had a clear view of the kindergarten gates.

Luxury cars drove up one after another. At the entrance, a noisy throng of parents bustled about. The convenience store by contrast was nearly deserted, quiet and still.

Two worlds, separated by a pane of glass.

Before long, Bai Nian squeezed out of the crowd, bundled up like a little dumpling. She waddled side to side like a penguin.

Moments later, a driver ushered her across the street. The driver pointed toward Pei Jiuyao, who waved at the girl from inside.

Bai Nian broke into a run, her tiny leather shoes tapping loudly against the ground. When she pushed the door open, the cold wind rushed inside with a howl.

Just seconds later, the door snapped shut, and Bai Nian climbed into the chair with a bounce, tossing her little backpack aside.

“Jiuyao-jiejie, why did you just now come to pick me up?”

That “just now” obviously wasn’t referring to today.

Pei Jiuyao, straw still in her mouth, reached out and patted the top of her head. “Jiejie’s been too busy lately.”

“I thought you didn’t like my sister,” Bai Nian said, sliding the milk bottle in front of her toward Pei Jiuyao. Jiuyao opened it for her and slipped in a straw.

“She’s my boss. Why wouldn’t I like her?” Jiuyao ruffled the back of her round little head again.

Bai Nian’s big eyes rolled. “Then are you going to be my Alpha-mama?”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Jiuyao tossed the empty carton into the bin. “She’s just my boss, nothing more.”

“But I like you. Can’t I call you mama?” Bai Nian tilted her small head, asking earnestly.

She was Bai Zhi’s sister. After their two mothers divorced and each built new families, Bai Nian had been left in Bai Zhi’s care.

Sometimes she called Bai Zhi “sister,” other times “mama.”

And not only that—Bai Nian loved to adopt every woman she liked as her mama, even if that woman had been her “jiejie” just a moment earlier.

Pei Jiuyao shrugged. “If you want to, go ahead.”

“Then why don’t you want to be my Alpha-mama?” Bai Nian suddenly raised her voice, pointing outside. “Oh! I know why—it’s because you like her!”

Jiuyao’s eyes narrowed. In the distance, a familiar figure appeared.

Before she could grab Bai Nian’s collar, the little girl had already dashed out the door.

With a helpless sigh, Jiuyao tossed the milk bottle in the trash, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and followed.

“Niannian, slow down.”

But Bai Nian ignored her completely, shouting “Shen Ruowei!” as she ran across the sidewalk.

Jiuyao had no choice but to chase after her—only to come face-to-face with Chi Yang.

The instant Chi Yang saw her, her gaze locked onto Jiuyao.

“Niannian, time to go home.” Jiuyao felt uneasy under that stare. She reached for Bai Nian’s hand, but the child stood her ground.

“Ruowei, this is my Alpha-mama.” Bai Nian’s wide eyes brimmed with curiosity. “Is this lady your mama too?”

Jiuyao noticed Chi Yang’s pupils flicker.

Shen Ruowei, unlike Bai Nian, seemed simple and guileless. She said in a muffled voice, “This is my aunt.”

Her aunt—surname Shen. Likely Shen Xinyi’s child.

Bai Nian beamed with satisfaction, then turned her head up to ask, “Mama, why didn’t you say hello?”

Jiuyao: “……”

“Niannian, we’re going home.” Jiuyao was helpless.

“No! I want to play with Ruowei,” the girl declared, enunciating each word.

Sometimes children really weren’t all that cute.

Jiuyao lowered her gaze and tugged her along, but Chi Yang followed behind, coaxing, “We’re going to the villa on the outskirts. There are camellias there, and swings.”

“Oh yay! I love swings!” Niannian clung to Jiuyao’s hand, refusing to budge.

“I made some little cakes. Niannian, come have some. It’s the weekend anyway,” Chi Yang added, fingers twisting nervously.

Niannian pouted. “I love cakes too.”

Jiuyao didn’t let go of her hand. “I can make cakes as well.”

Under the combined assault of a sulking child and Chi Yang’s coaxing, Jiuyao hardly knew how she ended up in Chi Yang’s car.

All because Chi Yang had said, ‘It wouldn’t be good if others saw us.’

Not good in what way? She and Chi Yang were completely innocent.

Did Bai Nian misunderstand something? She’d have to explain it to her clearly one day—tell her not to meddle so much.

When the car stopped, Jiuyao was startled to find Chi Yang had brought them back to that same villa.

The villa where, once upon a time, their bodies had been buried.

The blood and screaming felt like it had happened only yesterday. Jiuyao remembered herself curled up in an upstairs corner, alone, with no phone, peering out the window at nothing but a slab of gray-red cement.

Thinking back on why they’d split apart, she realized—she couldn’t truly bring herself to hate Chi Yang.

After all, it had always been Chi Yang who fell first. Jiuyao had approached her with a mission. Even when she died in her first life, she still owed Chi Yang an answer.

Maybe she was simply unwilling.

Unwilling that after she had already stepped in, she discovered that Chi Yang never truly knew how to love.

The sweet words, the vows and confessions, the “be good” and “don’t leave me”—perhaps they were nothing but twisted desires, born from the fear of losing another possession.

Then why did she take her own life after Jiuyao died?

Hadn’t she gotten what she wanted?

Was it love she didn’t recognize, or had no one ever taught her what love truly was?

Chi Yang took the two children into the yard to look at flowers. Jiuyao drifted through the villa instead.

Technically, it was hers. Yet she hadn’t stepped foot inside once in the past year. Chi Yang’s presence lingered everywhere.

A year ago, in the dead of winter, Jiuyao had sat right on this sofa, gazing out at the desolate courtyard beyond the glass.

Now, half the yard had been enclosed beneath a glass roof, transformed into a greenhouse filled with camellias.

The faint sunlight filtered through the panels, spilling down in waves of warmth.

From the bottom of the stairs, Jiuyao’s eyes landed on the door of the room where she had once been imprisoned. The door was tightly shut.

Her body moved instinctively, one foot stepping onto the staircase.

And then she heard Bai Nian’s voice outside: “Jiejie, what kind of flower is this?”

“That’s a camellia,” Chi Yang answered softly.

“Why did the whole flower fall off at once?”

Chi Yang picked it up, dusted it off, and placed it into Bai Nian’s hands. “That’s how camellias are. When they leave, they fall all at once—without even a single leaf left behind.”

“But if you hold it in your hands, doesn’t that mean it hasn’t really left?” Bai Nian asked curiously.

Chi Yang fell silent for a long while before replying, “Maybe. Someone once told me, even a flower without roots is still a flower.”

But whether blooming or withering—it no longer had anything to do with her.

Bai Nian was still too young to understand such subtext. All she knew was that she had a flower in her hands. Cradling it carefully, she ran inside, calling out “Mama!”

Jiuyao hurriedly descended the stairs.

Bai Nian’s cheeks were flushed from excitement as she ran over, proudly holding up the flower. “Mama, isn’t it pretty?”

Jiuyao didn’t answer. Instead, she ruffled the girl’s hair. “You’ve gotten your hands dirty again.”

She crouched down, took the flower, and tapped Bai Nian gently on the back of the head. “Go wash your hands now. Didn’t you want cake?”

Bai Nian clapped her little hands and then dragged Shen Ruowei along with her to wash up.

Pei Jiuyao glanced at the camellia in her hand and, in front of Chi Yang, dropped it into the trash can.

Chi Yang’s heart lurched—sudden, sharp pain. She bit down hard on her molars and forced herself to say, “It was a kid’s thing. Why didn’t you keep it?”

“Kids don’t know better. Don’t take it to heart, Miss Chi.”

Before Chi Yang could reply, Pei Jiuyao walked off toward the restroom to wash her hands.

When she came out, Chi Yang had already brought out the little cakes. Bai Nian had long since abandoned the camellia and was off playing with Shen Ruowei.

Seeing Pei Jiuyao, Chi Yang stood, awkward and a little uneasy.

Pei Jiuyao remained where she was, hands in her pockets, waiting for Chi Yang to speak.

Chi Yang hesitated, then looked up and asked, “Want some cake?”

She’d shown up again and again—anyone could see it was deliberate. But she wouldn’t open her mouth; she pretended nothing had happened. Was that entertaining?

Pei Jiuyao gave her a look, passed by, and leaned against the doorframe, slowly lighting a cigarette.

Chi Yang pinched her knuckles and followed.

Pei Jiuyao glanced back at the two children who were engrossed in play, then led Chi Yang a few steps toward the exit.

“Miss Chi, you keep turning up in front of me on purpose—what exactly do you want?” Pei Jiuyao asked bluntly.

She’d always been like that. It was hard for her to hold back—she simply didn’t have Chi Yang’s capacity for restraint.

Pei Jiuyao could afford to say the thing outright, and she wouldn’t mind stepping back if Chi Yang responded with “don’t flatter yourself.” But Chi Yang didn’t. Facing the wind, she smiled with an odd, hollow lightness. “Because I miss you,” she said.

At those words, Pei Jiuyao’s hand, hidden in shadow, twitched. “You miss me, so you want to disrupt my life?” she asked.

Chi Yang didn’t answer directly. Instead she asked, “Jiuyao, how has this year been for you?”

“Pretty good,” Pei Jiuyao replied.

“I haven’t been well at all. I think about you every day,” Chi Yang said, smiling even as her eyes grew damp.

Pei Jiuyao exhaled smoke, turned, and asked, “So? What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing at all, but I can’t help myself.” Chi Yang took a step forward and gripped Pei Jiuyao’s hand. Pei Jiuyao tried to pull away, but Chi Yang held on with all her strength, as if she wanted to set her hand into Pei Jiuyao’s palm like an inlay.

The force surprised Pei Jiuyao.

Chi Yang clung to her hand and said, “I thought about not bothering you, but I couldn’t control myself. At first I only wanted to see what you were doing. Once I saw, I wanted to talk to you. After talking, I wanted to take you home.”

Her voice broke as she spoke; she glanced up, tears filling her eyes.

Pei Jiuyao tilted her head; her lashes fluttered. “Do you remember what you said a year ago?”

“I remember. Every word.” Chi Yang lowered her head and gripped Pei Jiuyao’s hand as if afraid she’d walk away. “I was such a bastard then. I shouldn’t have locked you up. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“But I only wanted to keep you!” Chi Yang suddenly lifted her head. Her lips trembled and tears fell like beads.

“I didn’t want you to leave me, Jiuyao, Jiuyao,” she murmured, over and over, “I miss you so much.”

Pei Jiuyao’s lashes quivered; she didn’t look at her. “You simply spoke the truth out loud. And you also said that if I ever stepped out that door, I should never come back. Today I broke my own rule—but you forced me to come here. I just wanted to make things clear. Next time I won’t.”

“That’s not it!” Chi Yang couldn’t help taking a few steps forward. She stood in front of Pei Jiuyao, body trembling.

“What do you want me to be clear about? To stop bothering you? I can’t—don’t even think about it!” she cried, her hands trembling so badly they were a sieve. Pei Jiuyao gnawed her lip and didn’t take her hand back.

“It was my fault. I know I was wrong. Jiuyao, didn’t you say you liked me? You can’t give me not a single chance!”

“Chance?” Pei Jiuyao smiled coldly. “What chance? A chance to tie me up? Chi Yang, that isn’t love. It’s possession.”

She knew Chi Yang had never been taught how to love properly. If anyone was going to teach her, it would have to be Pei Jiuyao.

Chi Yang froze and whispered, “Is this about Bai Zhi?”

Pei Jiuyao frowned. She knew Chi Yang had misunderstood, but she didn’t want to explain.

“This is between you and me. Don’t bring others into it.”

“Is it because of Bai Zhi?” Chi Yang muttered to herself.

Before Pei Jiuyao could respond, Chi Yang suddenly pressed her wrist and kissed Pei Jiuyao’s lips. Pei Jiuyao ducked away; Chi Yang’s mouth landed on her chin instead.

Chi Yang kept whispering “Jiuyao,” but Pei Jiuyao pushed her away with one hand.

“Chi Yang!” she said, fingertips brushing her chin. Her voice was cold. “Stop making excuses. Admit it.”

“I admit it!” Chi Yang screamed in despair. “I admit I was wrong!”

Pei Jiuyao dropped her gaze. “If you only want to possess me, you’ll never win my heart.”

“But isn’t possession just love?” Chi Yang’s lashes shook, tears streaming down her face. She grabbed Pei Jiuyao’s hand and pressed it to her chest. “You can possess me too. Do whatever to me, Jiuyao.”

Her pleading was almost a sob. “Tie me up, possess me—if it’s you, I’ll accept anything. I just want you to come back.”

When Pei Jiuyao touched her soft body, her heart felt an unexpected flicker of temptation. Her eyes dimmed for a moment and she pulled her hand away. “I don’t want those things,” she said.

“Then what do you want? I can give you anything, or” Chi Yang hesitated, lips trembling, tearful, “Let me chase you, okay?”

“What if I don’t behave?” Pei Jiuyao chuckled low, took a drag of her cigarette, and deliberately blew smoke toward Chi Yang.

The smoke drifted into her mouth and nose; Chi Yang bent her head and coughed hard.

“Even if I’m full of all the bad habits you hate?” Pei Jiuyao asked.

Chi Yang coughed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, face wet with tears. She suddenly took the hand that held the cigarette and pressed it against her lower lip.

“Sizzle”

The cigarette burned through the thin skin. Pei Jiuyao’s hand twitched and the cigarette dropped.

“You” she began.

“I already said it,” Chi Yang said stubbornly, eyes red but chin lifted. “Do whatever you want to me. From now on, you possess me—please?”

“What I want is mutual, equal love, Chi Yang. You still don’t understand.”

Pei Jiuyao looked at the scar on Chi Yang’s face and sighed faintly.

Chi Yang didn’t know what to do. She’d come this far—why was everything she did wrong? Should she back down, say “I’m sorry,” and wish her happiness? She couldn’t. Hearing Bai Nian call Pei Jiuyao “Mama” had torn her up inside.

She’d heard rumors of Pei Jiuyao and Bai Zhi, but she never dared look straight at it. What if it was true? If it was true.

She regretted the choice she’d made a year ago. If she had agreed when Pei Jiuyao suggested “don’t break up, let’s try other ways,” they wouldn’t be here now.

Pei Jiuyao would fall for someone else, be good to someone else, and everything she’d given Chi Yang would go to Bai Zhi.

Thinking of that made Chi Yang feel as if she couldn’t live. She refused to retreat. No matter what, she couldn’t let Pei Jiuyao go—even if it cost her everything.

“I don’t know,” Chi Yang whispered, clutching Pei Jiuyao’s sleeve and sobbing quietly. “Teach me, please? I learn fast. If you teach me, I’ll do anything.”

In that instant she pulled out all her tricks—pleading, playing weak, seduction. Short of tying her up, she would bury every dark impulse within herself.

Pei Jiuyao watched Chi Yang’s desperate entreaty and felt uneasy.

This woman she’d once tried to protect hadn’t really done anything monstrous. She probably just didn’t understand what love looked like under ordinary values.

But Pei Jiuyao couldn’t soften. She knew if she did, they would fall back into the old pattern of patron and canary before long.

She lowered her head and stared at the broken, hollow Chi Yang. Her lashes fluttered; Chi Yang kept averting her eyes, afraid to meet Pei Jiuyao’s gaze.

Pei Jiuyao grabbed Chi Yang’s jaw and lifted her face to look straight at her.

“You can do anything—even if Bai Nian calls me ‘Mama’?” Pei Jiuyao asked.

Chi Yang trembled. “You and Bai Zhi”

Pei Jiuyao watched her silently and didn’t answer.

Chi Yang lowered her eyes and wrestled with herself for a long moment. Pei Jiuyao didn’t know what passed through her mind.

After a long while, Chi Yang finally looked up. Her voice still shook, but it was unusually resolute. “I can.”

“What identity?” Pei Jiuyao asked.

“All of them—anything, as long as you’re happy.”

For a moment Pei Jiuyao almost couldn’t bear to deceive her.

Her fingertips brushed Chi Yang’s jaw gently. She said softly, “Then start small—begin with your identity. Do the little things to make me happy first.”