Not a Scummy Alpha, But a Sweet Puppy (Transmigration Into A Novel) - Chapter 19

After parting ways, Jiang Zhenmian pulled out her phone and searched for hotels near the company, her expression impassive.

The System analyzed the situation for ages but still couldn’t figure out what had just happened. It asked, bewildered, “Host, why didn’t you go back and sleep with her?”

Jiang Zhenmian booked a hotel, tucked her hands into her pockets, and hailed a taxi. “This is called ‘feigning retreat to lure the enemy deeper,’ ‘striking first to gain the upper hand,’ and ‘playing hard to get.’ Did you get your Thirty-Six Stratagems from a bootleg copy?”

The System made a sound like an AI short-circuiting. “I don’t understand.”

What was there not to understand? Gu Zhibai’s behavior clearly showed she had feelings for Jiang Zhenmian, yet for some reason, she avoided answering her question.

Jiang Zhenmian felt a pang of disappointment, but she had already mentally prepared for the possibility of rejection. More than sadness, she felt a surge of defiant determination.

Pursuing her relentlessly now would be a mistake.

Jiang Zhenmian chose to retreat strategically, creating some distance between them. She had always been the one taking the initiative, clinging to Gu Zhibai like a shadow. Gu Zhibai would undoubtedly miss her constant presence.

Hmph, how would they know how precious I am if they never lost me? Jiang Zhenmian thought, gazing out the window at the neon-lit streets. She resisted the urge to text Gu Zhibai and put her phone on silent.

Hotel sheets were always stiff, rustling with every movement. Jiang Zhenmian tossed and turned, blaming the sheets for her insomnia.

This must be what a cold war feels like, she thought. It’s worse than having a fever.

She wasn’t the only one awake. Gu Zhibai’s mind was locked in a fierce internal conflict.

One voice insisted, You did the right thing. This is the only way to protect yourself. Don’t let yourself be controlled by fleeting emotions. This is your first step toward rationality.

Another voice countered, How could you do this? Do you have no feelings for her? No concern at all? How could you cruelly hurt her, discarding her love like trash? You’re being heartless.
A third voice argued, You’re right. She came from nowhere. We still don’t know if she’s sincere. Just enjoy her affection without worrying about commitment. Being selfish is the only way to find happiness.

Three voices, three conflicting thoughts, each clamoring in Gu Zhibai’s mind, leaving her no peace.

She drove home, unlocked the door, and flipped the wall switch, the sudden light banishing the darkness.

Every detail of the apartment’s design reflected her personal taste. Each tile, each chandelier, had been handpicked by her, creating a space uniquely her own.

Normally, returning home brought a sense of relaxation, but tonight, the apartment felt strangely empty and silent.

Gu Zhibai checked her phone. The WeChat screen remained still, the only sign of life a new red notification dot. She almost wondered if the app was malfunctioning.

WeChat was working perfectly fine, just lacking the message she longed to see.

It was a long night. The old nightmares returned to haunt Gu Zhibai. She woke with a start to the screech of brakes, her limbs weak and clammy with sweat.

The bedside clock showed the time: 2:24 AM. She got out of bed, gulped down some cold water. Now she was chilled to the bone, inside and out.

At this hour, the world outside was pitch-black, save for the distant glow of the landmark Goddess statue.

Sorrow was an invisible tide, binding her limbs and tugging at her soul, threatening to split her in two: one half containing all her emotions, the other half yearning for freedom.

She sat motionless for over an hour before finally crawling back into bed. This time, she slept soundly, free from insomnia and nightmares, until the alarm clock blared, jolting her awake.

The first consequence of sleep deprivation was overwhelming exhaustion, a heavy weight pressing down on her like a hundred-kilogram burden.

Gu Zhibai sipped her bitterly strong coffee, her brow furrowed in regret. It wasn’t rejecting Jiang Zhenmian that she regretted, but staying up half the night, brooding by the window like some lovesick, unconventional youth.

The night truly did amplify emotions, she realized.
As dawn broke, her sharp intellect reclaimed its dominance, mercilessly criticizing her actions from the previous night.

Already agitated, Gu Zhibai’s mood soured further when her father called.

The caller was none other than Former CEO Gu, her biological father.

Father Gu was in his sixties, his health permanently weakened by lingering effects of a past illness. Their relationship was distant; even when they spoke, their conversations were usually limited to business matters.

Gu Zhibai no longer yearned for familial warmth as she had in her childhood. In her heart, family had become more of a burden than a comfort.

Father Gu’s voice, distorted through the speakerphone, said, “Come home tomorrow. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Instead of agreeing immediately, Gu Zhibai asked, “Who is it? I’m swamped with work lately and barely have any free time.”

Father Gu’s tone left no room for argument. “Then postpone your work. You must be here tomorrow.”

He hung up before Gu Zhibai could protest further.

Clutching her phone, Gu Zhibai paused, then sent Jiang Zhenmian a simple “Good morning.”

Jiang Zhenmian saw the message, of course. She deliberately replied with an equally terse “Good morning” around eight o’clock, devoid of any affectionate terms or cute emojis. It was dry and perfunctory.

Immediately followed by a second message: “The hotel breakfast is awful.”

At first glance, it seemed like their usual banter, yet everything felt subtly different.

It was as if a dandelion seed had lodged itself in Gu Zhibai’s collar, causing only a slight discomfort, yet impossible to ignore.

This had been the pattern all day. Their conversations had noticeably dwindled, and Gu Zhibai couldn’t just ask why. Jiang Zhenmian seemed to have anticipated this, having mentioned earlier that the manager needed her to submit new design drafts, so she’d be busy and might not have as much time to chat.

What could Gu Zhibai say to that?
The next day, she cleared her schedule and returned home. No sooner had she stepped inside than she saw her mother, dressed impeccably, about to leave.

Mother Gu was more than ten years younger than Father Gu and frequented beauty salons, maintaining her appearance meticulously. Dressed in refined, elegant attire, she embodied the image of a wealthy socialite.

When she spotted her daughter downstairs, her face immediately soured, making no attempt to conceal her disdain for Gu Zhibai. Raising her voice, she said sarcastically, “Oh, look who it is! The Gu family’s busiest member. What brings you home today?”

Gu Zhibai glanced at her and replied calmly, “Father asked me to come.”

Mother Gu shot her a venomous look, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You two are the pillars of the Gu family. You must have so much to discuss. I wouldn’t want to intrude. I wouldn’t understand anyway, and I’d rather not be accused of pretending to know what I don’t.”

Gu Zhibai said calmly, “Mother truly doesn’t understand business matters. It’s best she doesn’t interfere.”

“You!” Mother Gu’s face darkened. This was a deliberate jab. When Father Gu was hospitalized, she had insisted Zhiyao take over the company, but her daughter had snatched the position instead. Since then, their relationship had completely soured, and every meeting ended in a bitter argument.

It’s always been this way, Mother Gu thought. A girl only needs to learn how to manage a household, become a refined lady, and marry into another prominent family. That’s what I did, and what my mother did before me. It’s the established custom. Why does Gu Zhibai insist on breaking the mold?

In this elite circle, every family heir was a son. Yet the Gu family was stuck with a daughter. And what was wrong with Zhiyao? Assigning him to a tiny branch office was clearly a deliberate act of defiance against her.

Mother Gu seethed inwardly but dared not utter harsh words. Her daily expenses now came from Gu Zhibai’s account. During their last argument, Gu Zhibai had even cut off her credit card, forcing her to feign illness and stay home for a week.

She glared at Gu Zhibai resentfully, huffed, and slung her handbag over her shoulder. “I’m leaving to play mahjong.”

Father Gu sat in his wheelchair in the garden, enjoying the breeze. Seeing Gu Zhibai approach, he tapped the phone on the table. “Look, the Xue family’s son. He’s back from studying abroad too. Have dinner with him tonight.”
The young man on the phone wore a light gray suit, his features refined and handsome, his thin lips pressed into a slight frown, giving him an air of sternness.

Gu Zhibai glanced down at the phone and said without hesitation, “What’s the point of dinner? The Xue family runs a film and television company. We have no business dealings with them.”

Father Gu’s expression darkened. “You’re not getting any younger,” he said sternly. “It’s time you started a family and carried on the Gu family bloodline. Otherwise, who will inherit our vast empire?”

“This is an arranged meeting. Old Xue and I have already agreed that if things go well, you’ll be engaged by next year.”

Gu Zhibai felt a surge of absurdity. “You didn’t even ask me! You’ve unilaterally decided on my marriage? I refuse to consent or accept this.”

“I am the Family Head of the Gu family and your father. I don’t need your permission to make decisions!” Father Gu slammed his hand on the table, his eyes glaring. “Who doesn’t marry through strategic alliances? When I married your mother, your grandfather didn’t ask for my opinion either.”

“Business marriages are all about appearances. As long as you produce a male heir, I’ll leave you alone after that. Even if you keep ten mistresses, I won’t interfere.”

“The restaurant reservation is made. Dress nicely and don’t be late.”

Gu Zhibai’s voice was resolute, her gaze icy. “I won’t go. I’ll choose my own marriage partner. If you want to ally with the Xue Corporation, Gu Zhiyao would be a better candidate.”

“I’m not asking for your opinion,” Father Gu said. “If you refuse to go, you’ll hand over the CEO position to your brother. That way, your mother will stop nagging me about favoritism. Without the title of next Family Head, you won’t be forced into an arranged marriage, and no one will interfere with whom you choose to marry.”

Father Gu still held the majority of the company shares, giving him the power to remove Gu Zhibai from her position at Gu Corporation.

This threat struck at the heart of Gu Zhibai’s ambitions. She had poured all her efforts into rising through the ranks, craving influence, recognition, and now, the autonomy to choose her own path.

But Father Gu loomed like a mountain, blocking her way forward.

He closed his eyes, feigning sleep, as if utterly indifferent to her decision.
After a long silence, Gu Zhibai spoke in a low, measured voice, “Fine, I’ll go.”

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