I Heard I’m a Scummy Alpha? [Transmigration] - Chapter 114

Qi Fangyue’s sobs caught in her throat. She lowered her head again, silent, tears dripping one by one onto her collar.

Qi Yunwei studied her, thoughtful.

She wasn’t refusing to speak out of stubbornness—whatever it was, it must be too humiliating to say aloud.

And besides, Zhou Xiao was still present.

“Zhou Xiao, go to the Qi residence first.”

When they arrived, Qi Yunwei told Zhou Xiao to wait in the car and brought Qi Fangyue into the villa.

Qi Fanghuai had long since moved into the headquarters of the Smart Brain Project, while Qi Fangyue lived on campus, only returning home once a month. It had been more than twenty days since her last visit. Qi Jiuyuan and Luo Yi had gone on a world trip over ten days ago. With no one home and no one to clean, a thin layer of dust had settled over all the furniture.

Qi Yunwei didn’t sit down. She turned to face Qi Fangyue. “There’s no one else here now. Speak.”

Qi Fangyue’s hands at her sides clenched tightly at the hem of her clothes.

“Don’t worry,” Qi Yunwei said evenly. “Whatever you tell me, I won’t use it to threaten or mock you. I’m not like you.”

Qi Fangyue finally lifted her head. Her face flushed scarlet at Qi Yunwei’s words, and her eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m very busy,” Qi Yunwei said coolly. “I don’t have time to play these games with you. If you’re afraid of Qi Fanghuai’s anger, you don’t need to be. He’s already in prison—and he’ll probably spend the rest of his life there.”

Qi Fangyue’s expression twisted in humiliation. Her lips trembled before she finally spoke. “Big brother, Qi Fanghuai, he drugged me. Then sold me to an old man.”

Qi Yunwei’s brow furrowed. “Who was that man? Why didn’t you go to the police?”

“He—he’s called Wen Fu. He’s one of Qi Fanghuai’s investors. Qi Fanghuai said if he didn’t do it, the company would go bankrupt. Then I’d lose my life as a pampered young lady. I—I didn’t want that.” Qi Fangyue buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

Qi Yunwei felt a flicker of pity—but not sympathy. For money, Qi Fangyue had given up her dignity. Now, with both her dignity and her wealth gone, all she could do was wallow and take her anger out on others.

“Qi Fanghuai’s already in prison,” Qi Yunwei said flatly. “Did that preserve your privileged life? You sold yourself for luxury, then vented your frustrations on your innocent roommates. What did they ever do wrong?”

“It wouldn’t help even if I called the police. I don’t have any proof,” Qi Fangyue wept.

“Did Wen Fu mark you?” Qi Yunwei asked.

Qi Fangyue shook her head. “No. He’s careful about those things. I really don’t have any evidence.”

“Then what’s the use of crying?” Qi Yunwei’s voice was cold. “Tell me—do you want revenge or not?”

Qi Fangyue was used to crying for a reason—usually to provoke pity. She’d hoped Qi Yunwei might help her get revenge, maybe even support her afterward. After all, she was still Qi Yunwei’s sister.

But she hadn’t expected Qi Yunwei to suggest she take revenge herself.

“I—I can’t. I don’t know how to do anything.” Qi Fangyue covered her face again, crying harder.

Qi Yunwei watched her indifferently. “Stop crying. No one here wants to watch you act.”

Qi Fangyue stiffened under the scorn.

After a long pause, she lowered her hands. Seeing no trace of warmth in Qi Yunwei’s eyes, she realized crying was useless. “Then what do you want me to do?”

Qi Yunwei frowned. “Forget it. If you don’t want to, that’s your choice. Don’t pretend I’m forcing you. I wasn’t the one who drugged you. The man who ruined you is still walking free, and all you can do is wallow in self-pity and lash out at the innocent.”

She had thought maybe, if given the chance, Qi Fangyue might find the strength to fight back. But she’d clearly overestimated her.

Her dignity had already been crushed into dust—and she no longer had the will to piece it back together.

Qi Yunwei’s gaze turned icy. “A hundred thousand. Give me the evidence that Qian Ruxuan framed Meng Yin for plagiarism.”

Qi Fangyue’s monthly allowance from Qi Fanghuai had once been a hundred thousand yuan. After being sold to Wen Fu, that amount doubled to two hundred thousand.

Hearing the figure, Qi Fangyue scrunched her nose. “What can you even do with a hundred thousand? Second Sister, you’re worth billions now—don’t be so stingy.”

“I don’t need you to hand it over. As long as it ever existed online, I’ll find it myself. Giving you a hundred thousand is already an act of mercy.”

Qi Fangyue tried to bargain. “At least make it two hundred thousand.”

Qi Yunwei turned to leave.

“Fine—one hundred fifty thousand!” Qi Fangyue called after her.

Qi Yunwei didn’t stop, her hand already on the door.

“Alright! A hundred thousand!” Qi Fangyue shouted at last. “I’ll give it to you, okay?”

After getting the evidence, Qi Yunwei took Qi Fangyue to the hospital for a psychiatric evaluation.

The results showed nothing abnormal. Her earlier outburst at her roommates had likely been nothing more than dropping the act—her true nature surfacing at last.

When they left the hospital, Qi Yunwei said, “I’m sending you back to school. You’d better not cause trouble again. In my eyes, you’re nothing. If there’s a next time, I won’t intervene.”

Under Qi Yunwei’s cold gaze, Qi Fangyue flinched. “I understand.”

With Qi Fanghuai gone and their parents useless, if anything happened again, there would be no one left to protect her.

After sending her back to school, Qi Yunwei posted the evidence that Meng Yin had been falsely accused of plagiarism by the famous painter’s granddaughter, Qian Ruxuan. She also bought top trending spots and hired publicity accounts to amplify the story. It spread quickly.

It turned out Meng Yin wasn’t Qian Ruxuan’s first victim. Before university, Qian Ruxuan had done this many times, always shielded by her school, leaving innocent victims to bear the blame.

Meng Yin had spent two dazed days at home, unable to tell her parents about her expulsion. She pretended school was on break, but lies never last long. That morning, her mother had already asked why the university suddenly “closed.”

Meng Yin had made up an excuse.

A day or two was easy to hide—but not for long.

She planned to get a part-time job while pretending she was still in school, sparing her parents the heartbreak of learning the truth.

She had never realized how rotten the art world was. Because Qian Ruxuan’s grandfather was a famous painter, everything she did was excused—even framing others for plagiarism. Disillusioned, Meng Yin now felt sick just looking at a paintbrush.

After lunch, she lay down and fell into a restless nap. When she woke, she felt utterly drained.

Her phone had been buzzing nonstop. Half-awake, she picked it up to see who was messaging her.

Her friends had added her to a group chat. Everyone was tagging her, telling her to check Weibo—saying Qian Ruxuan was finally getting her retribution and all her past misdeeds had been exposed online.

Meng Yin hurriedly opened Weibo—and froze when she saw her own name at the top of the trending list.

She clicked on the topic. The evidence had been posted by a new account, and the comments were flooded with condemnation of Qian Ruxuan. More people came forward with similar stories.

Apparently, Qian Ruxuan’s grades had always been poor, and she’d relied on her grandfather’s paintings to buy her way into elite schools.

Seeing everyone sympathizing with and supporting her, Meng Yin’s eyes grew red.

She opened the first post—the one that had published the evidence—and sent a private message to thank the poster.

@Weilan: You’re welcome. I really admire your art. I actually went to the Academy today hoping to meet you, but then I heard what happened. A friend happened to have proof, so I posted it on your behalf.

@Weilan: This is my alternate account. I’ve sent you an offer from my main one. I hope you’ll consider it seriously.

Meng Yin replied with her gratitude and exited the chat—only to see that another account had just messaged her.

When she saw the username, her eyes widened in disbelief.

@DreamlikeYin: I must be seeing things… are you really Qi Yunwei of Yunmengze?

@QiYunwei: Yes. The person who contacted you earlier with the small account was also me. 😊 Our company is developing a modern-themed holographic game, and I truly admire your artistic style.

@DreamlikeYin: I’m so honored! There’s no need to think about it—I’d love to join your company.

Meng Yin was a senior in college, just half a month away from graduating when she’d been expelled. Now that her name was trending, the Guangnan Academy of Fine Arts would surely reinstate her to protect its reputation.

If not for Qi Yunwei’s offer, she might have agreed to return. But now, she no longer cared. A degree from a corrupt institution was meaningless.

Ten days after Qi Fanghuai’s arrest, Qi Yunwei and Wen Fu crossed paths at a banquet.

He greeted her as if nothing had happened, smiling pleasantly.

“Where’s Zui Zui?” he asked lightly. “Aren’t you two always inseparable?”

“She’s with a friend,” Qi Yunwei replied calmly. “A friend of hers just went through a breakup, and she’s been keeping her company.”

Wen Fu sighed. “Zui Zui has always been such a kind and softhearted child.”

They found a quiet corner to talk.

“I heard,” Wen Fu said, “that Zui Zui used to be a cheerful girl, much loved by her parents. But by the time I met her, she’d already become the person she is now. Her parents had changed, too.”

Feigning concern, Qi Yunwei asked, “Professor Wen, do you happen to know what exactly happened back then?”

What could have turned doting parents into cold strangers—turning a bright child into someone so distant and numb?

Wen Fu frowned, letting out a sigh. “I only heard bits and pieces. It’s all hearsay—I can’t say for sure.”

Qi Yunwei let her expression fall in quiet disappointment. “Zui Zui never talks about it. We’ve been together so long, and she’s never said a word.”

“My in-laws have already severed ties with her,” she added with a troubled look. “There’s no one left I can ask—except you, Professor Wen. You’re the only one who might know what really happened.”

Wen Fu looked conflicted. “It’s not good to gossip behind someone’s back. If Zui Zui ever found out, it could hurt your relationship. Secrets between spouses, they can destroy a marriage. Better to let it come out naturally.”

He paused for a moment, then said, “How about this—why don’t I invite both of you to my house under the pretext of a small gathering? When the others leave, I’ll try to persuade Zui Zui to open up.”