After Transmigrating Into the Scummy Alpha’s Rebirth Story - Chapter 13

Yuan Xiao pressed her foot all the way down on the accelerator, driving up the mountain road with practiced ease.

Outside the car window, dense forest stretched endlessly—layers of bamboo swaying in the summer breeze. The blazing sunlight couldn’t penetrate the lush canopy, and patches of dappled light trembled across the window glass, flickering past Chaoxi’s gaze.

Chaoxi sat quietly in the passenger seat. When she left home earlier, she hadn’t taken this route. That time, she’d ridden in a chauffeur-driven stretch Lincoln with tinted windows so dark she couldn’t see a thing outside. But now, sitting in Yuan Xiao’s Mercedes, she could clearly see through the lightly coated glass—and the higher they drove, the more familiar the scenery felt.

Where had she seen this before?

Why did it feel strange?

The memory in her mind was blurry and indistinct—something she couldn’t quite grasp.

Until a massive arched gate appeared ahead on the mountain road, and the sight of a half-hill villa came into full view.

She froze. That sprawling wall of roses—wasn’t that?

Her heart pounded wildly. Eyes fixed on the archway, the familiar view grew larger and clearer in her vision until she could no longer look away.

“Welcome home.”

A cheerful electronic voice sounded from the archway, followed by upbeat background music. As the gate slowly opened, Yuan Xiao eased off the gas and drove into the front courtyard, circling the drive to the back before pulling into the underground garage.

Housekeeper Aunt Chen stood waiting near the elevator with a few servants. A young Beta maid quickly came forward to open Chaoxi’s door.

Yuan Xiao handed her car keys to the waiting driver and waved a casual greeting before walking around the car toward Chaoxi. Aunt Chen had already taken Chaoxi’s bag, smiling as she bowed slightly to Yuan Xiao.

Yuan Xiao gave a small nod. “Miss is tired. She needs to rest.”

“Understood,” Aunt Chen replied. “I’ll tell the kitchen not to start cooking yet—perhaps a bit later.”

All the servants in the Zhao household were Betas—no threat to Yuan Xiao whatsoever. Earlier, she’d been worried someone might catch a whiff of Chaoxi’s scent, but now she could relax.

She laced her fingers through Chaoxi’s hand, checked her watch, and said casually, “Have dinner at six. And no fish tonight.”

Chaoxi blinked, her mind still stuck on the sight of the villa’s rose-covered walls. “Why not fish?” she asked blankly.

Several maids stifled giggles. Aunt Chen coughed awkwardly, stepping forward to whisper an explanation, but before she could, Yuan Xiao was already tugging Chaoxi straight into the elevator.

There were three elevators leading up from the garage. Yuan Xiao and Chaoxi took one alone.

“I really like fish,” Chaoxi muttered, unable to help herself.

Yuan Xiao stood upright, still holding her hand. “Mm.”

“Then why won’t you let the kitchen make any?”

“Because fish is a triggering food.”

Chaoxi frowned, completely lost. “I know it’s a triggering food, but what does that have to do with me eating it?”

Expressionless, Yuan Xiao replied, “Your glands haven’t fully developed yet. Eating fish during an Omega’s heat can affect how well your wounds heal.”

Chaoxi: “…”

Curiosity killed the cat.

Mortified, she fell silent.

The home elevator moved slowly, making the awkward atmosphere even more suffocating.

Chaoxi scratched her ear and fidgeted, thoughts spinning in circles. She didn’t know how long had passed before she heard the elevator ding and the doors slid open.

She suddenly looked up, fixing her eyes on Yuan Xiao.

“Then how did you know the kitchen was going to make fish?”

The question hit Yuan Xiao square in the chest—a fatal strike of logic. She’d been so focused on taking good care of her wife that she’d forgotten this detail entirely.

Before their marriage, they’d only met twice.

The first time was when Chaoxi’s mother came to negotiate the marriage, carrying a pheromone compatibility report. Yuan Xiao had come to the villa for that meeting and met Chaoxi there.

The second was when the two of them went together to the Civil Affairs Bureau to get their marriage certificate.

Everything Yuan Xiao knew about Chaoxi—her preferences, habits, favorite dishes—she’d learned slowly over the course of their hidden marriage. In such a transactional arrangement, there was no way she could’ve known beforehand that Chaoxi loved fish, or that Aunt Chen always had the kitchen prepare it for her.

Now, Yuan Xiao found herself scratching her head.

She wasn’t good at lying. So, she simply pushed Chaoxi out of the elevator, leaned in close to her ear, and murmured softly, “Come on. Let’s go upstairs and finish your marking.”

Well, now I’m not sleepy at all.

Chaoxi perked up—half from remembering last night’s thrilling, oddly pleasant experience, and half from wanting to hurry through this “plot” and get back to her real world. She quickened her pace, walking past a corridor until she slowed near a familiar-looking room.

The door was closed.

She turned her head slightly. Through the crack, she thought she could glimpse a small single bed by the window, a long desk piled high with senior-year study materials.

“What’s wrong?”

Yuan Xiao’s voice came suddenly, startling her. Chaoxi’s shoulders jerked, and she turned back quickly.

“N-nothing.”

Yuan Xiao frowned slightly, unsure what she was feeling.

They’d already passed the room Chaoxi had been staring at—it was the study.

In their previous life, Chaoxi used to sit in that very study sketching. Yuan Xiao would come home from a shoot and find her asleep at the desk, head resting on a sketch of a turtle—one labeled boldly with Yuan Xiao’s name.

They had once spent an entire night in that room.

That night, Yuan Xiao had pinned her against the desk, marking her permanently with rough, desperate force.

All her anger had melted between Chaoxi’s trembling legs, the creaking desk masking her choked sobs.

Lost in the haze of pheromones, Yuan Xiao had gritted her teeth and asked hoarsely,

“Didn’t you say you wanted me?

Now that you have me—are you satisfied?”

Unable to bear the pain, Chaoxi eventually broke down, sobbing uncontrollably and unable to answer.

Yuan Xiao poured all her resentment and unwillingness onto her, determined that if she was going to hurt, they would hurt together—until both of them could barely breathe.

That night, she lost control. In the dark, she bit down until she drew blood, tore at that soft body in despair, leaving countless bruises and bite marks behind. It wasn’t satisfaction she felt—it was anguish and helplessness.

The network drama that Xin Le had arranged for Yuan Xiao to star in tied her to the film city for half a year. During that time, Chaoxi had visited her on set—but hid the fact that Yuan Xiao’s mother was critically ill.

As a result, Yuan Xiao never saw her mother for the last time.

In front of capital, there’s no such thing as warmth or sentiment—only profit.

That night, in the study, she made a secret vow: one day, she would return every ounce of pain she’d endured.

The cruel irony was that she had blamed the wrong person. None of it had been Chaoxi’s fault. When she visited the set, she had no idea Yuan Xiao’s mother was dying—it was nothing but a coincidence.

Yuan Xiao’s heart ached. The shadowed look in her eyes made the person beside her sense something was wrong.

When the bedroom door opened, Chaoxi hesitated and stammered, “You don’t really seem in the mood to redo the mark. Maybe we should just skip it for now?”

The familiar villa entrance had already dampened Chaoxi’s mood. When Yuan Xiao first mentioned repairing the mark, she’d been a little excited—but seeing this house again made her feel inexplicably stifled. She also had a lot of questions she wanted to ask the system first.

And now, with Yuan Xiao clearly unhappy, any enthusiasm she had left for the marking vanished completely.

She was never the type to force people. And she still wasn’t used to pretending to be the kind of person who bottled everything up like the original host did.

But just as she suggested dropping the topic, Yuan Xiao suddenly pushed her into the bedroom and locked the door behind them.

Chaoxi turned around—only to meet a pair of sorrowful, pitiful puppy eyes.

Yuan Xiao lowered her head slightly, gaze fixed on her, and with a soft, pleading tone said, “I don’t want anyone else to smell your scent, wife.”

Chaoxi: pupil quake.jpg

Her eyes widened in shock, utterly speechless. Something was definitely wrong with this Yuan Xiao! She was nothing like the one described in the original novel summary!

Chaoxi might secretly look down on the original host’s personality, but she was still diligently keeping up the act—innocent, harmless, and sweet—to avoid breaking character as per the system’s warnings.

But this? This bizarre possessiveness from an Alpha—where did it come from?

Wasn’t Yuan Xiao supposed to be a scummy A?

Chaoxi’s memory was pretty sharp; from all the information she’d gotten from the system, Yuan Xiao had been described as revealing her true colors after marriage—turning into a complete jerk.

Something was definitely off.

She was so stunned that she forgot to keep playing dumb. Yuan Xiao didn’t comment on her shock—she simply leaned forward and pressed her lips against Chaoxi’s.

Yuan Xiao’s hand clamped around her waist, holding her still.

Chaoxi froze. With the string of jolts hitting her senses one after another, she even forgot to push back.

The kiss came suddenly, but it was gentle—so gentle it trembled, as though Yuan Xiao was treating her like something precious, something fragile.

But hadn’t this girl hated her just a moment ago?

What went wrong?

Chaoxi’s mind spun in confusion. She couldn’t make sense of any of it. She wanted to call for help from the system—but Yuan Xiao was already tugging her closer, their bodies tangling as she guided her backward to the edge of the bed.

With a firm hand on her shoulder, she pressed her down into a sitting position.

The windows were open, sunlight spilling over them both. The master bedroom was spotless, air clean and crisp, tinged faintly with the scent of red wine.

Chaoxi’s head was a jumble of tangled thoughts when she suddenly heard a faint click.

Yuan Xiao had undone her neck collar—pulling it off in impatient haste.

The sudden release left a cool breeze brushing against her skin. Chaoxi closed her eyes briefly at the sensation.

Then Yuan Xiao leaned close, whispering into her ear, voice soft yet trembling, “Wife, your wound hasn’t healed yet. Bear with it for a bit—I’ll bite deeper this time to make the mark stick.”

From the sound of it, she meant to go in hard.

Chaoxi shivered, her shoulders twitching involuntarily before she nodded, almost without thinking. “Okay.”

When the sharp fangs sank into the gland behind her neck, piercing skin and flesh, Chaoxi felt the rush of red-wine pheromones flood into her veins. The pain and discomfort made her legs go weak—her strength drained all at once, body collapsing backward.

Yuan Xiao’s reflexes were quick. She grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her firmly in place, towering above her with absolute dominance.

Then, in an uncompromising tone, she said—

“Don’t move.”