After Transmigrating Into the Scummy Alpha’s Rebirth Story - Chapter 1

The sun was sinking low, and the stars of midsummer were beginning to glimmer.

At the very top floor of the tallest skyscraper in City C’s central business district—its walls made entirely of panoramic glass—stood the perfect place for stargazing. Yet the female CEO who owned this office wasn’t admiring the night sky.

Her gaze slid past the glittering Milky Way and fixed instead on the LED screen of the building across the street.

On the massive screen, a rising star in the world of sapphic fiction was holding a book signing event. The young author smiled shyly into the camera.

The city’s neon lights were dazzling—but beside that smile, they all seemed dull and lifeless.

The interview segment began.

The host teased, asking if the heroine of the author’s new novel—who happened to share a name with a certain CEO—was inspired by her.

The woman in front of the window tensed instantly. Her long legs shifted, the sharp click of her high heels echoing off the polished wooden floor.

Just then, her assistant approached, holding out an iPad with a professional smile.

“President Zhao, four young ladies have invited you to dinner.”

At the same moment, the author’s soft voice came through the screen:

“Just a coincidence.”

After all these years, that was all she got—a coincidence.

The iPad blocked part of Zhao Chaoxi’s view, but her eyes flicked toward the WeChat notifications. The most recent chats were neatly labeled: Fish 12, Fish 8, Fish 25, Fish 11.

She had a whole fishpond. Why hang herself from the same old tree?

Brushing the assistant’s arm aside, President Zhao slipped her hands into her trouser pockets and sauntered toward the door with effortless poise.

Her assistant, retrieving her bag, heard the CEO’s lazy, teasing voice drift back:

“Number 8—rooftop garden sounds fun.”

An hour later.

Zhao Chaoxi arrived as promised. The waiter led her to the private garden terrace and quietly excused himself.

She pushed open the glass door and stepped into the open-air garden. There, sitting by the long table beside the pool, was Miss No. 8, her slender fingers swirling a glass of red wine beneath the soft glow of the garden lights.

“You’re here!” No. 8 greeted her with a seductive smile, raising her glass. “Come, have a seat.”

Crimson lips, charming smile—right up Zhao Chaoxi’s alley.

Zhao crossed the lawn with a grin and sat down opposite her.

The long table was set with exquisite desserts but no main course in sight.

Taking the wine glass No. 8 pushed over, Zhao arched a brow playfully.

“This is our dinner?”

No. 8 laughed brightly.

“Just a little prelude. The main course is on its way.”

This girl’s father had business ties with Zhao’s company, so Zhao was more patient with her than with most of her other “fish.” Without protest, she took a sip of wine.

No. 8 shook her head with mock reproach. “That’s not enough. Give me some face.”

Zhao’s lips curled. “And what exactly counts as giving face?”

“Drink. It. All.”

So cheeky.

Amused, Zhao chuckled and tilted her head back, finishing most of the glass in one go.

Satisfied, No. 8 snapped her fingers in the air.

The strong taste of red wine still lingered in Zhao’s mouth when, from behind the flowerbed, three familiar figures stepped out.

Fish 11, Fish 12, and Fish 25.

Even for someone as poised as President Zhao—a real estate rising star in City C—her expression faltered for the first time.

Zhao Chaoxi: “?”

The situation suddenly felt less subtle and more dangerous.

The three women strode forward confidently, surrounding the table, their gazes sharp and unkind.

No. 8 leaned back, lips curving into a wicked smile.

“So, President Zhao—how do you like the main course?”

Zhao shot to her feet with an awkward laugh. “Ladies, let’s not be hasty—I can explain! For example, you—uh—Little Eleven.”

“Hm?” No. 11 took a deliberate step closer, nearly chest to chest.

Zhao’s scalp prickled. She took a step back, mortified, only to find No. 12 and No. 25 closing in from either side.

Her smile stiffened. “You, what are you trying to do?”

She realized too late—it wasn’t that the situation was awkward. It was bad.

As the three advanced, Zhao kept retreating—until,

Splash!

A massive wave burst from the pool.

“Done,” No. 11 clapped her hands with satisfaction.

Flailing in the water, Zhao spluttered, “I can’t swim! Help—pffft—help—!”

No. 25 hesitated, guilt flickering across her face. “Maybe we went a bit too far?”

“Hmph. She didn’t even remember my name,” No. 11 snorted. “Did you hear her? She called me Little Eleven. Do I look like I’m related to the number eleven?”

Leaning against the table, No. 8 took another sip of wine, eyes filled with tragic humor.

“At least Eleven sounds nice. She calls me Little Eight. Ever seen Hachiko: A Dog’s Story?”

The other three exchanged looks—and silently, unanimously—gave her a sympathetic glance.

Zhao Chaoxi didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy. She was a textbook female playboy—the kind of woman who rose to fame not only through genuine talent and ambition, but also by racking up a long list of flirtations and emotional debts she never intended to repay.

But this time, karma came knocking.

The daughter of a partner conglomerate finally saw through her sweet words and sugar-coated lies—and realized that Zhao Chaoxi’s so-called “fish pond” numbered far more than one. Even more outrageously, Zhao Chaoxi still had the gall to insist they were all “just sisters.” After thinking it over, the heiress decided that simply letting her drink a little more pool water wasn’t nearly enough to vent her anger.

And so, C City’s famous socialite Zhao Chaoxi ended up choking on more than a few mouthfuls of chlorinated water in a luxury swimming pool.

Just before she lost consciousness, her mind flashed with the image of that female writer’s face on the giant LED screen, then the overwhelming scent of red wine and finally—one tragic, crystal-clear thought:

Her fish pond had exploded.

“Cough, cough, cough!”

Zhao Chaoxi’s lungs burned. Gripping the edge of something hard and smooth, she struggled upright.

Her head spun violently. After sitting still and coughing her lungs out, she blinked—and saw a wall right in front of her.

Where the hell was she?

Wait. I was surrounded by angry exes, pushed into the pool, grabbed the edge of the—bathtub?

Blinking hard to clear her waterlogged vision, Zhao Chaoxi looked around—and froze. She was sitting naked in a huge oval whirlpool tub.

What the hell—Room 8 plays this wild?

Still in shock and unable to piece together how things had gone wrong, she suddenly heard an odd, mechanical voice in her head.

【Book-Transmigration System initializing host binding.】

【Book Title: Unattainable Love】

【Genre: ABO Yuri Tragedy】

【Host: Zhao Chaoxi】

【Bound Character: Female Lead (Same Name)】

【Binding complete.】

Zhao Chaoxi: “…”

That’s a lot to take in. Give me a sec to process.

Panicking like she’d seen a ghost, Zhao Chaoxi scrambled out of the tub, grabbed a bathrobe from the wall, threw it on, and bolted for the door.

But the mechanical voice continued to drone in her head, as if mocking her.

【Zhao Chaoxi. Gender: Female Omega.

Pheromone: Wild Rose.

Age: 22. Height: 165 cm.

Appearance: Busty, baby-faced.

Personality: Naïve, love-brained airhead.

Background: Wealthy heiress.】

Half-running toward the bathroom door, she caught sight of herself in a giant mirror—and stumbled back.

The face staring back was hers, yes: round cheeks, soft features, a face that could easily pass for a middle-schooler without makeup.

But, wasn’t she supposed to be flat-chested and 170 cm tall?

She’d shrunk! And there were two heavy, foreign weights sitting on her chest! What kind of eldritch nonsense was this?

Completely dumbstruck, Zhao Chaoxi stared at her reflection.

Her lips moved, voice trembling out through clenched teeth:

“I transmigrated into a book?”

Before she could fully absorb the horror, a strange wave of heat crawled up the back of her neck—hot and itchy. Dizziness washed over her again, forcing her to clutch the sink just to stay upright instead of collapsing in front of the mirror.

The system, momentarily stalled by her stupidity, resumed its chipper tone:

【Host detected: serial heartbreaker with severe emotional manipulation history.

In order to make the world a more loving place, we have invited you to transmigrate into this book and personally experience the pain of loving without being loved.

Mission: to inspire all players in the Game of Love to reform, repent, and come ashore as decent human beings.

Isn’t that wonderful?】

Zhao Chaoxi: “……”

Wonderful, my ass.

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