Not a Scummy Alpha, But a Sweet Puppy (Transmigration Into A Novel) - Chapter 24

Ye’s mother’s illness was neither serious nor minor, stemming ultimately from long-term emotional suppression compounded by her advanced age and declining health.

Elderly people are particularly vulnerable to shock. When Ye Wanwan told her about her relationship, her blood pressure spiked, her heart couldn’t cope, and she collapsed.

Gu Zhiyao held Ye Wanwan’s icy hand, his heart aching as he gazed at her tear-streaked face. “Wanwan, don’t worry. I’ll find the best doctors to treat your mother!”

Ye Wanwan was deeply moved, tears shimmering in her eyes. She lifted her delicate, palm-sized face and whispered, “Zhiyao, you’re so good to me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Gu Zhiyao gazed at his beloved’s pitiful expression and gently kissed her lips. “Silly girl, I don’t need repayment. Just accept my love.”

His kiss was both possessive and tender. Ye Wanwan let out a soft moan and melted into his arms, held tightly against his chest.

The couple kissed passionately, oblivious to their surroundings. Ye’s mother lay unconscious in the ambulance, while two nurses sat nearby, their eyes darting back and forth.

“Is this some kind of drama?”

“Isn’t that girl’s mother lying there?”

“Wow, this is intense…”

The Executive Assistant lived up to his elite title, with no concept of working hours and being available 24/7. With just one phone call from Gu Zhiyao, he somehow managed to gather the province’s top doctors at City Center Hospital by 8 PM, all lined up to examine Ye’s mother.

Ye’s mother was rushed to the emergency room, where tests quickly revealed the cause of her condition.

Gu Zhiyao and Ye Wanwan waited anxiously outside the emergency room. He stopped a passing nurse, holding out a black card. “Get me a premium private room.”

The nurse blinked in surprise, startled by his unorthodox admission process.
Gu Zhiyao’s narrow, phoenix-shaped eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of displeasure flickering in their depths. Another woman mesmerized by my looks, he thought, inwardly annoyed. Only Wanwan truly loves me, not for my handsome face or wealth, but for who I am.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up!” Gu Zhiyao scoffed, his gaze dismissive.

The nurse glanced around. Her colleagues avoided her gaze, leaving her no choice but to reluctantly take the black card. “Oh.”

Gu Zhiyao had intended to warn her against making advances on him or his card, but a quick glance revealed Wanwan still waiting anxiously. He simply didn’t have the patience to waste words on a stranger. I hope she knows her place, he thought. Otherwise… He’d make sure she never worked in another hospital again!

The next day was a workday. Despite Jiang Zhenmian’s late night, fueled by excitement, she had to drag herself out of bed when it was time to go to work. Yawning, she shuffled downstairs with unsteady steps.

Just like before, Gu Zhibai was already seated at the dining table. The rich aroma of milk wafted from the cup on the table as she smiled and said, “If you didn’t get up soon, I was going to come wake you.”

“Really?” Jiang Zhenmian replied, sounding genuinely regretful. “If I’d known, I would have stayed in bed longer. Maybe I could have gotten a good morning kiss.”

“Then come here,” Gu Zhibai said, setting down her cup and beckoning Jiang Zhenmian over.

Her long hair cascaded loosely down her back, with a few stray strands escaping from behind her ears, playfully framing her face. The raven-black hair shimmered with a soft, silky sheen, as if a piece of the night sky had been woven into its strands. Running a hand through it would reveal a cool, delicate touch and a lingering, subtle fragrance.

Even the morning light seemed to favor her, casting a gentle, golden glow upon her beauty.

Jiang Zhenmian didn’t hesitate. She walked right up to Gu Zhibai, who gently tugged her collar.

Following the pull, Jiang Zhenmian leaned down, feeling a soft, warm pressure on her lips.

“Your morning kiss,” Gu Zhibai said, stroking Jiang Zhenmian’s cheek with her fingertips. “Good morning.”

A faint blush slowly spread across Jiang Zhenmian’s face. She grabbed Gu Zhibai’s hand as she tried to pull away, whining softly, “I want another one…”
Gu Zhibai chuckled and kissed her again. Only then did Jiang Zhenmian seem satisfied, like she’d finally had her fill. She lingered for a moment before shuffling back to her chair, but instead of sitting down, she lifted it up and moved it next to Gu Zhibai’s.

The dining table was small and square. They had been sitting across from each other, but with Jiang Zhenmian’s chair moved, they were now side by side, each occupying adjacent sides of the table.

“We were too far apart before,” Jiang Zhenmian explained.

Gu Zhibai, of course, didn’t object to such a minor change. She wasn’t one to spoil the mood with stuffy remarks about table manners or anything like that.

“If only we had a rectangular table,” Jiang Zhenmian grumbled, still a bit dissatisfied. “Then we could sit together properly.”

“Wouldn’t it be a bit cramped to sit so close?” Gu Zhibai asked, though she was genuinely considering whether to switch tables.

“I just want to be closer to you, Sister!” Jiang Zhenmian said with a serious expression. “Isn’t it normal to want to be with someone you like all the time?”

“That makes sense,” Gu Zhibai nodded, as if convinced.

The housekeeper finished preparing breakfast and brought each dish to the table. She showed no curiosity about her employers’ personal matters, keeping her gaze where it should be. After setting down the food, she went to tidy up the kitchen.

Both women had a preference for Chinese cuisine. Today’s breakfast consisted of two bamboo steamers of xiaolongbao, a pot of pumpkin congee, and two refreshing cold dishes to cut through the richness.

Jiang Zhenmian had to admit the housekeeper was a professional. The xiaolongbao were far tastier than any she could make herself.

While she enjoyed cooking occasionally to create romantic moments, cooking every day when her partner had a personal chef would be pure self-indulgence and unnecessary effort.

Jiang Zhenmian was not that kind of person.

“Oh, did your music appreciation class end?” Gu Zhibai suddenly asked.

Jiang Zhenmian choked on her first mouthful of porridge, frantically covering her mouth as she rushed to the side, coughing violently until her face flushed crimson. She couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the choking fit.

“Why are you asking all of a sudden?” Jiang Zhenmian managed to say. “I just finished the course last week.”

“Because your account hasn’t been updated,” Gu Zhibai replied in a casual tone, dropping a bombshell that felt like a thunderclap on a clear day.

“You… I…” Jiang Zhenmian stammered, her eyes widening in disbelief. She suddenly felt like she was standing on stage in a cheap, child-sized Elsa costume, singing “Let It Go” while all her acquaintances watched her perform.

This is public humiliation on a hellish level.

“You follow my account too?” Jiang Zhenmian asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.

“It’s quite pleasant to listen to,” Gu Zhibai said with a faint smile.

Oh god, okay, maybe it’s not that bad. Jiang Zhenmian’s standards had already been lowered to an absurd degree by countless assignments. She was just shocked that the perpetually busy Gu Zhibai would even use a pink social media app, let alone stumble upon her account.

What Jiang Zhenmian didn’t know was that Gu Zhibai had never paid any attention to that app before. She only downloaded it because of her.

“Well, if Sister likes it, I’ll keep posting more,” Jiang Zhenmian said, settling back into her chair as if she hadn’t just been coughing her lungs out moments ago.

She’d been thinking about doing that anyway. After all, posting videos was easy for her. No editing, no fancy equipment needed. Just record with her phone and upload.

Plus, it was a way to earn some extra cash. Why not?

“Great! I’m looking forward to it,” Gu Zhibai said with a smile. “But now that your classes are over, why don’t you move in this weekend? Living at school is so inconvenient.”

“Wow, Sister, why are you always so eager for me to move in? I get it now! You must be craving my fresh, youthful body!” Jiang Zhenmian teased playfully.

“What should I do? You’ve discovered my secret,” Gu Zhibai replied, playing along. “Actually, I’m a vampire who’s lived for thousands of years. I love luring young girls like you into my home, then draining them dry.”
“Even if you reveal your true nature, I’ll still love you,” Jiang Zhenmian declared dramatically, her voice thick with emotion. “Why? Love has blinded me, making me reckless. I’m willing to be devoured by you.”

“Alright, alright, you win,” Gu Zhibai said, shaking her head in mock surrender. “Where do you even come up with all these lines?”

Jiang Zhenmian chuckled.

After breakfast, it was time for work. Jiang Zhenmian got into Gu Zhibai’s car, where she was promptly reminded to buckle her seatbelt.

The car merged into the flow of traffic, like a single drop joining a river.

To Jiang Zhenmian, the sky seemed bluer, the clouds whiter, and the snow-laden trees more breathtaking than ever. Even the pedestrians on the street looked vibrant and full of life. Everything around her seemed to pulse with vitality.

She had never felt so alive.

Soft, instrumental music played in the car, like a soundtrack from a movie. Suddenly, she blurted out, “I feel like I’m being kept by my sister.”

“What?” Gu Zhibai asked.

“Look, I live at your place, eat your food, use your things, and even wear clothes you bought for me,” Jiang Zhenmian said, ticking off each point on her fingers. “And you’re driving me around too.”

“Do… do you not like it?” Gu Zhibai asked hesitantly, her grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

“How could I not?!” Jiang Zhenmian exclaimed sincerely. “It feels like I’ve skipped thirty years of wrong turns. I’m so happy, I don’t want to work hard anymore.”

“You’re being mischievous again,” Gu Zhibai said, secretly relieved, a smile returning to her face.

She knew Jiang Zhenmian was just teasing. The woman was genuinely dedicated to her work. Several times when Gu Zhibai went to the top floor to wait for her to finish, Jiang Zhenmian would pull out her sketchbook and draw, not for show, but truly immersed in her art.

Turning one’s passion into a livelihood was undeniably fortunate, and Jiang Zhenmian cherished this life.

Upon arriving at the company, the two parted ways in the elevator.

Many noticed them taking the elevator together. Several female colleagues who regularly followed fashion magazines immediately recognized Jiang Zhenmian’s outfit as a new design from X House. A quick search confirmed their suspicions.

Thanks to Gu Zhibai, Jiang Zhenmian’s basic information was common knowledge among the gossipy types. It was obvious she couldn’t afford such expensive clothes herself, and given recent rumors, the identity of the giver was unmistakable.

Regarding the company gossip, they agreed to neither confirm nor deny, letting everyone speculate. No one dared gossip to Gu Zhibai’s face, and few were bold enough to directly ask Jiang Zhenmian.

Most just whispered behind her back, but Jiang Zhenmian paid no attention to these baseless rumors.

When colleagues hinted that her clothes were pretty and fashionable, she’d simply say they were a gift. If pressed about who gave them, she’d smile enigmatically and remain silent.

Jiang Zhenmian rarely spent money. She ate in the company cafeteria, commuted by subway, and lived in the company dormitory rent-free. She didn’t buy jewelry (she always lost it), and she avoided high-end establishments (Gu Zhibai always paid). In games, she was a casual player, never spending much money—a “Buddhist non-whale.”

If she had to name her biggest expense, it would be fruit, but even that wasn’t much for one person, and she bought affordable varieties. Combined with her generous Gu Corporation salary, she’d saved over ten thousand yuan in just a few months.

Gu Zhibai’s birthday fell on the first weekend after New Year’s Day, January 5th. She celebrated her birthday according to the Gregorian calendar. With the date fast approaching, Jiang Zhenmian resolved to save as much as possible in the coming days to buy Gu Zhibai a birthday gift.

She knew that, given Gu Zhibai’s refined tastes, even gifts costing six or seven figures wouldn’t be considered extravagant. While Jiang Zhenmian couldn’t afford such luxuries, she couldn’t bring herself to give a cheap, two-figure gift either.

To put it kindly, it would seem Gu Zhibai didn’t care about money. To put it bluntly, it would just look stingy.

Gift-giving should be within one’s means, with the emphasis on sincerity. But to not even consider the effort and just throw something together would be utterly shameless.
Jiang Zhenmian had been planning this for a while.

First, she would definitely give a painting. She had secretly painted several already, each depicting Gu Zhibai in different styles and settings: a Western fantasy with magic, soaring through the sky on a sword, and even a short animated clip featuring chibi versions of the characters. She was so busy with this project that she hadn’t even logged into her games lately.

Second, she planned to use her savings to buy a small accessory. These compact luxury items wouldn’t be too expensive, and she had an idea: a pair of earrings.

A custom-made gift would be more meaningful, but she simply couldn’t afford it, so she had to abandon the idea.

Besides those two, a hand-knitted scarf was the perfect winter gift. She knew many knitting patterns, making this the simplest gift for Jiang Zhenmian. It only required some time, consuming far less mental energy and money than the previous two options.

Even with these three gifts, Jiang Zhenmian still felt it wasn’t enough, but she couldn’t think of anything else to give.

Gu Zhibai had so few hobbies or special preferences.

Jiang Zhenmian went online to search for “good gifts for girlfriends.” The search results were overwhelmingly dominated by cosmetics: face creams, foundations, lipsticks, perfumes, eyeshadow palettes. She was certain that at least eight out of ten recommendations were advertisements.

The remaining suggestions included headphones, projectors, aromatherapy lamps, music boxes, humidifiers, electric toothbrushes, and insulated water bottles.

One particular Bluetooth headset was being aggressively promoted, appearing as the top recommendation on every account.

Jiang Zhenmian: 6.

As she browsed, she spotted something she really liked: a children’s toy, a gesture-controlled hovering drone. It looked so cool, and it even glowed.

Jiang Zhenmian had never played with toys like this as a child. At the orphanage, the kids were lucky if they had a few marbles to play with all afternoon. As the outcast, Jiang Zhenmian never got to join in these group activities.
Her childhood had been devoid of toys, let alone something as novel as this.

The more she looked at it, the more she wanted it. She checked the details and saw that a full charge only lasted about fifteen minutes.

Jiang Zhenmian: Goodbye.

That’s barely enough time for anything.

During her lunch break, she did nothing but ponder this. An hour passed, and she still hadn’t figured anything out.

Defeated, Jiang Zhenmian slumped onto her desk and opened Bilibili, deciding to watch some videos. The first one on her homepage was a funny video set to classical music, featuring various cats doing silly things. It gave her a carefree minute of joy.

Sigh… Should she get a pet? A cat or a dog would be nice.

Raising a pet together could even strengthen their bond.

But did Gu Zhibai prefer cats or dogs? Did she have any breed preferences? If Jiang Zhenmian just picked one randomly and Gu Zhibai didn’t like it, that would be a disaster.

Personally, Jiang Zhenmian treated all breeds equally, but she leaned toward long-haired cats and large-breed dogs.

Her ideal life involved having two dogs and two cats: a Border Collie and a German Shepherd, a personal assistant and a canine bodyguard.

The two cats would be a Maine Coon and a tabby, both bold enough to go for walks together. Imagine strolling down the street, leashes in hand, teasing the dogs while the cats strutted alongside. With a personal assistant, there’d be no worry about getting lost. Just thinking about it made her giddy.

If she hadn’t been in that car accident, she would have definitely turned this dream into reality once she had her own place.

Jiang Zhenmian planned to ask Gu Zhibai about it that evening. In her mind, the possibility of Gu Zhibai disliking animals simply didn’t exist.

For a true animal lover, how could anyone not adore cats and dogs? They’re just too cute!

Ye’s mother regained consciousness the next day. When she opened her eyes, she saw the stark white ceiling of the hospital room. The private room was comfortable, with a vase of lilies on the bedside table filling the air with their delicate fragrance.

Ye Wanwan was watching over her mother’s bedside. When she saw her mother awaken, she burst into tears of relief. “Mom, you’re finally awake! You scared me half to death.”

Sobbing, she rambled on, “If Zhiyao hadn’t been here to bring me and find a doctor, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Hearing those two key words, Ye’s mother’s mind snapped back into focus. Trembling, she asked, “Your boyfriend… is he still here?”

Ye Wanwan wiped away her tears. “He had to leave for something. Mom, are you thirsty? I’ll get you some water.”

Ye’s mother gripped her hand tightly. “I’m not thirsty! Let me see him again… what does he look like?” She forced a smile. “I suddenly fainted yesterday, I forgot. Come on, let me see what kind of taste my Wanwan has.”

Suspecting nothing, Ye Wanwan pulled out her phone from her bag, found a photo of the two of them together, and showed it to her mother.

Ye’s mother’s hand trembled as she stared intently at the two figures embracing in the photo. After a long moment, she closed her eyes tightly. “Good girl,” she murmured. “You look lovely together.”

“Wanwan, how long have you two been together?”

Ye Wanwan blinked. “Just a few days,” she replied.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Ye’s mother visibly relaxed, opening her eyes to pat Ye Wanwan’s hand. “You’re a good girl, always listening to your mother. You two mustn’t sleep together, understand?”

Ye Wanwan’s face flushed crimson. “Mom, what are you saying…?”

Ye’s mother gripped her hand firmly. “Promise me, okay?”

Ye Wanwan’s voice was barely audible. “I understand.”

“Go get Mom a glass of water, dear.”

After sending her daughter away, Ye’s mother stared at the handsome, domineering face on her phone screen, muttering under her breath, “No, I have to find a way to break them up.”

Support Not a Scummy Alpha, But a Sweet Puppy (Transmigration Into A Novel)