Not a Scummy Alpha, But a Sweet Puppy (Transmigration Into A Novel) - Chapter 21

Jiang Zhenmian scrutinized the photo repeatedly. No matter how she looked at it, one of the two figures was unmistakably Gu Zhibai. As for the man sitting across from her, even Jiang Zhenmian, who was inclined to be critical, had to admit his appearance was quite striking.

He resembled the perpetually gentle second male lead from a romance drama, a perfect match for Gu Zhibai’s refined aura.

The news of the arranged marriage had come from the Executive Assistant. It was highly unlikely the assistant would fabricate such a story, so the information was at least ninety percent reliable.

Jiang Zhenmian’s heart churned with conflicting emotions: bitterness, disbelief, absurdity.

She had been racking her brain all afternoon, trying to understand why Gu Zhibai had gone silent, or rather, why she was giving her the cold shoulder. She had been desperately searching for a plausible explanation and a way to resolve the root of the problem.

And all along, Gu Zhibai had been on a date.

The Executive Assistant was still questioning whether Jiang Zhenmian had been taking her contractual obligations seriously.

Hadn’t she? In other words, had none of her efforts made the slightest impression on Gu Zhibai? Jiang Zhenmian prided herself on her keen observation skills and refused to doubt her judgment.

Or perhaps there was another possibility: her observations were correct. Gu Zhibai did like her, but that affection wasn’t strong enough. It was too light, too insignificant compared to the benefits of a strategic marriage. What was a little crush compared to the vast wealth and influence such an alliance would bring?

A broader future, boundless riches, and immeasurable value weighed down one side of the scale, while the emotional connection between them seemed too fragile to compete.

Putting herself in Gu Zhibai’s shoes, Jiang Zhenmian knew she would advise anyone else to abandon sentiment and embrace a more promising life. After all, love couldn’t fill an empty stomach, but bread could certainly stave off hunger.

Yet when she became the one being abandoned, she could intellectually understand the choice, but emotionally, she couldn’t accept it.
The furious assistant—more accurately, the furious Gu Zhiyao—was still demanding a reasonable explanation. Once Gu Zhibai and Xue Yi were engaged, the position of next Family Head would be as good as sealed. He could forget about ever having a chance.

Jiang Zhenmian took a deep breath and replied as politely as she could, “I report everything I do. Matters of the heart can’t be quantified. Besides, Gu Zhibai isn’t the way you describe her, falling in love with me at first sight. I never wanted things to develop this way either. After all, there’s still a substantial final payment waiting for me. No one wants to see a cooked duck fly away, right?”

“Since the rumors are only suspicions and haven’t been confirmed, there must still be room for change. I’ll go see her and try to nip this in the bud. Please rest assured, Boss.”

After a moment, the reply came: “I hope so. Don’t disappoint me.”

Jiang Zhenmian put down her phone, went to the bathroom to wash her face, and slumped back into her chair with a heavy sigh. She began to ponder what to do.

Her claim about seeing Gu Zhibai was genuine; she truly wanted to speak with her face-to-face. Some things are best discussed in person. But what excuse could she use to meet her? And what could she say once they met?

They weren’t close, so what right did she have to interfere with Gu Zhibai’s decisions?

If she simply said, “I saw the engagement announcement and wanted to talk,” Gu Zhibai might refuse outright if she’d already made up her mind. She’d politely but firmly convey that there was no need for them to contact each other again.

If she could find an excuse, at least she could see her one more time, even if it might be the last.

Jiang Zhenmian wasn’t a rational sage, capable of calmly devising the optimal solution in any situation. After barely managing to fend off her Executive Assistant’s questions, her mind felt like a lump of mush, with barely a few neurons firing coherently. Yet she desperately wrung out the last dregs of her energy, trying to come up with a plausible plan.

What excuse? What lie…? Jiang Zhenmian pressed her hand against her forehead, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Suddenly, she burst into silent laughter at her desk, her shoulders shaking.

Perhaps this is the price I pay for lying?

For Jiang Zhenmian, uttering a few casual lies was as effortless as breathing. Deception and pretense had become ingrained in every fiber of her being. If you stripped away the lies, she’d probably crumble into a thousand pieces and die instantly.

She had tried to win genuine love with a false facade. Wasn’t this the swiftest karmic retribution imaginable?

But if she were to speak the truth, to openly reveal her rotten, worthless core, what part of that could ever earn her love?

She didn’t dare try it. Jiang Zhenmian had grown accustomed to wearing a mask, finding comfort in the false sense of security it provided.

She didn’t want to change.

Honesty was a mistake. If someone only spoke the truth, they would inevitably be ostracized.

Her kindergarten teacher had taught her that honesty was a virtue. To young Jiang Zhenmian, virtue meant good qualities. The adults who came to the orphanage to adopt children always preferred the more outstanding ones.

So she should be honest, and she had tried to be.

But the other children shunned her, stole her food, refused to play with her, threw stones at her, and called her a tattletale.

Wasn’t honesty supposed to be a virtue?

Without parents to teach her right from wrong, or gentle hands to soothe her pain and indulge her innocence, Jiang Zhenmian had to learn to survive on her own. If honesty was a mistake, then she would lie. If she wanted to fit in, she would change herself.

What was wrong with wanting to live well?

Jiang Zhenmian rubbed her face, finally coming up with a reason. She turned on her phone. “Sister, are you busy tonight?”

This time, she didn’t have to wait long. Just over ten minutes later, Gu Zhibai replied, “I’m not busy tonight. What’s up?”

She must have finished dinner to have time to reply, Jiang Zhenmian thought, pressing the record button. Her voice sounded a little dejected as she said, “Can I come see you? When I got back earlier, I overheard my roommates talking about me at the door. I really don’t want to go back…”
It was fortunate no one was in the dorm at that moment; otherwise, she might have been subjected to a real barrage of harsh words.

As expected, Gu Zhibai agreed to let her come and even asked if she needed a ride.

If this had been earlier, Jiang Zhenmian would have immediately accepted. But she really didn’t want to see Gu Zhibai too soon. She needed the time on the way to compose herself.

She had already prepared for the worst-case scenario.

Jiang Zhenmian pulled up her hood and sat hunched in a corner of the subway car, her black down jacket making her blend into the background.

If there was truly no way to salvage things, then she could only apologize to the System.

She had grown tired of the monotonous, futureless life she had been living. Even the life goal she had barely managed to find had collapsed. There was really no point in continuing.

She had long passed the stage of wanting to strive for a better life. The weight of life’s burdens had broken her spirit. Even if she managed to keep living, it would only be as a shell of her former self, devoid of joy.

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