After Transmigrating into a Scummy Alpha, I Became a Tool Person - Chapter 30

The bar was dimly lit, flashes of colored light flickering across the walls as music thumped faintly in the distance. On the dance floor, people swayed and laughed, but over in Lu Anran’s corner, things were much quieter.

Soft lounge music drifted through the air. The bartender mixed her a cocktail, garnished it with a slice of lemon, and slid the glass toward her.

“Thank you,” Lu Anran murmured. She lifted the drink, swirled the golden liquid lightly, and took a sip.

The taste wasn’t bad. She licked her lips, then took another.

After a few glasses, a faint flush crept onto her cheeks.

Bored, she slouched in the dim corner, eyes fixed on her phone. The glow of the screen cast light over her carefully made-up face.

Then came the sharp click of heels. A woman approached, setting her bag down before sliding gracefully into the adjacent seat.

“Hi,” the woman said in clear, gentle Mandarin. “A glass of whiskey, please. Thank you.”

Hearing the voice, Lu Anran turned her head.

The woman had long golden curls, a black bodycon dress, and a white blazer draped over her shoulders. Pearl earrings glinted beneath the light. Her blue eyes shimmered like starlit seas, her features elegant and bright—clearly foreign.

Lu Anran’s hand, still holding the glass, paused midair.

Just then, the woman turned her head, meeting Lu Anran’s gaze. Her lips curved politely. “Hello, pretty lady.”

Her accent was noticeable but endearing.

Lu Anran blinked, then nodded back. “Hi.”

The woman smiled. “Drinking alone?”

“Mm.”

“Me too.” She smiled again, accepting her whiskey from the bartender with a soft “Thanks.”

Lu Anran looked away and continued sipping her drink.

After a pause, the woman spoke again. “Where are you from?”

“City A,” Lu Anran replied. “And you?”

“America. I just came back recently.” The woman chuckled. “My Chinese isn’t very good—please forgive me.”

Lu Anran smiled. “It’s fine. You speak really well already.”

“I’m An Lin. What’s your name?” the woman asked warmly.

“Lu Anran,” she replied.

“Lu Anran?” An repeated uncertainly.

“It’s Lu,” Lu Anran corrected.

“Loo?”

“Lu.”

“Lu.”

“Good. Now the next character—An. Try that one.” Lu Anran smiled.

That one An knew; it was part of her own name. “An,” she said proudly.

“Perfect. The last one is Ran.”

“Ran?”

“Close, it’s Rǎn.”

An tried again, a little awkwardly. “Rǎn.”

“Now, say them together.”

“Lu, An, Rǎn?”

“Very good,” Lu Anran praised.

An beamed, her eyes softening. “May I invite you to dance?”

Lu Anran tilted her head, then smiled. “Of course.”

An nodded, excused herself politely. “I’ll be right back—just need the restroom.”

“Sure,” Lu Anran said, watching her leave. She lowered her gaze and tapped open Xie Yinian’s WeChat.

Lu Anran: You there? I just met the most gorgeous girl.

By the time An returned, she said with a smile, “Shall we?”

Lu Anran nodded, hit send on her message, slipped her phone into her bag, and followed her toward the dance floor.

Xie Yinian stood by her bedside table, rummaging for the hairdryer. She found it, but as she turned to leave, a sudden heat flared at the nape of her neck.

The scent of warm milk spread faintly in the air—her pheromones.

Frowning, she touched the back of her neck. She’d felt this once before. Could it be, her heat period approaching again?

Just in case, she took a few suppressant patches from her luggage, layering two over her glands for extra protection. Then she packed several vials of inhibitors into her bag—better safe than sorry.

In the living room, only Xia Qiqi remained. Mother Xie had gone out to the hospital with Father Xie to pick up his medicine and wouldn’t be back until later.

When Xie Yinian stepped out, she handed the hairdryer to Xia Qiqi.

“Thanks,” Xia Qiqi said, taking it from her.

Xie Yinian nodded but then caught a faint, fresh scent—the smell of shampoo mixed with mint from Xia Qiqi’s still-damp hair.

A soft blush rose to her cheeks. She gave her head a tiny shake, trying not to focus on it.

Xia Qiqi was about to return to her room to dry her hair when she noticed the way Xie Yinian looked like she wanted to say something. She paused.

“What is it?” she asked, toweling her hair. Her expression was cool, unreadable.

“Just now,” Xie Yinian began, hesitating.

“What about just now?”

“Nothing,” Xie Yinian sighed finally.

Xia Qiqi gave no response, only turned and closed her bedroom door. Soon, the low hum of the hairdryer filled the silence.

Left alone on the sofa, Xie Yinian sank down, deflated. Thinking about how Xia Qiqi had cried over someone else earlier made her chest tighten with something bitter and sour.

If only she liked me instead.

The thought startled her.

Why did it matter whether Xia Qiqi liked her? Why did she even want that?

Recalling everything that had happened today, she realized she couldn’t stand hearing Xia Qiqi talk about that so-called “person she liked.” She’d even acted cold to her earlier—like she was jealous.

Was it possible that her feelings for Xia Qiqi weren’t just friendship?

Could it actually be love?

Xie Yinian had met people in same-sex relationships before. Though she never fully understood it, she’d always respected it.

But realizing she might be one of them herself.

The straight-laced Xie Yinian suddenly felt like a lightbulb had gone off in her head.

So was this what they meant by turning gay?