Not a Scummy Alpha, But a Sweet Puppy (Transmigration Into A Novel) - Chapter 5

“What are you talking about?” Jiang Zhenmian frowned, her expression disapproving. “This is a logical and well-reasoned deduction.”

[“Mhm, mhm, mhm, mhm,” ] the System replied.

If it had a physical form, it would have rolled its eyes repeatedly or recorded this exchange and pinned it to the top of social media, just to show everyone what it meant to be fickle and silver-tongued.

Only after Gu Zhibai had been gone for quite some time did Jiang Zhenmian finally stroll out, her mood buoyant. As she walked, she kept replaying their conversation in her mind, scrutinizing every word for any missteps.

Halfway through her mental replay, she slapped her thigh hard, her face contorted with regret. “How could I have said that getting rained on was no big deal? I should have sneezed a few times, looked pitiful. Maybe, just maybe, if she’d seen how miserable I was, she would have given me her umbrella. Or even,” Jiang Zhenmian said dreamily, her voice filled with fantasy, “offered me a ride home in her car…”

“What a blunder!”

Every cell in Jiang Zhenmian’s body pulsed with regret, agonizing over the missed opportunity to connect with Gu Zhibai.

If all her regrets could materialize into a pool of water, she would have already sunk to the bottom, exhaling a string of bubbles.

For the first time, Jiang Zhenmian felt a deep frustration with her own dense, clueless mind. She immediately resolved to study romance guides and learn some sweet talk as soon as she got home. She couldn’t let another day like this happen again.

Conversations should have a natural ebb and flow, not overwhelming enthusiasm right from the start. Not everyone appreciates familiarity from the get-go.

A mature woman like Gu Zhibai values personal space and boundaries. She needs her own private sphere, and Jiang Zhenmian didn’t want to come across as an immature kid.

So even after getting her contact information and adding her as a friend, Jiang Zhenmian patiently waited until evening, estimating when Gu Zhibai would be off work, before sending her first message:

“Sister, I asked the art exhibition staff about getting my painting back. They just replied that it can only be shipped after the exhibition ends. That’s still three days away.”

Jiang Zhenmian chewed on an apple, carefully weighing her words. After revising the message repeatedly for over ten minutes, she finally sent what seemed like an ordinary sentence, yet it was brimming with hidden intentions.

“I asked earlier” showed she was deeply invested in this matter, having inquired about it long ago. “Just got a reply” implied she had rushed over to report the news the moment she received it, her mind constantly preoccupied with this matter rather than just casually mentioning it.

No one would meticulously analyze every word of a normal conversation, but the subconscious always retains impressions. This was precisely the effect Jiang Zhenmian wanted to achieve.

Indeed, she lacked romantic experience, but sincerity never hurt. Who could ever feel completely confident in front of their crush? Relying solely on plot devices was foolish.

The former Corporate Slave channeled the same focus she used for overtime revisions, even recalling details from the original novel to write a ten-thousand-word analysis.

“Jiang Zhenmian” was a minor character among minor characters, but she hadn’t forgotten her role. Wasn’t it just because she had a silver tongue that she managed to win over Gu Zhibai? Jiang Zhenmian thought disdainfully, Am I really inferior to her?

After sending the message, Jiang Zhenmian stared at her phone, racking her brain for the next thing to say.

A minute passed, then ten, then half an hour.

“Did I forget to turn on notifications?” Jiang Zhenmian muttered.

She pulled down the settings menu. Yep, the ringer was on, not muted.

The phone remained deathly silent, and her gaze grew increasingly dangerous, filled with an urge to smash it.

Suddenly, a ding! Jiang Zhenmian scrambled for her phone, excitedly tapping open WeChat. A message from a user with an orange cat profile picture: Ma’am, are you still taking commissions? Do you have any slots open recently?

Jiang Zhenmian: The disappointment hit hard.

Money was money, and clients were angels. She replied warmly to the customer, then clicked back to her chat with Gu Zhibai, staring at the lone green message bubble stubbornly perched at the top, glaring back at her.

The System suddenly spoke up: Messages don’t magically appear just because you’re staring at them.

Jiang Zhenmian flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. “What?” she stammered, flustered. “I’m not… I’m not anxious. I was just checking.”

Once the heat faded from her face, Jiang Zhenmian finally found her tongue. She declared in an exaggerated tone, which the System’s analysis flagged as a transparent attempt to conceal her true feelings, “Just kidding! Do I look like the kind of person who loses their mind over such things? I just happened to open this interface and was too lazy to close it.”

“Losing reason, acting abnormally—those are signs of a ‘love-struck’ brain. Me? Don’t be ridiculous.”

The System’s mechanical voice remained utterly flat. “You’re right.”

Jiang Zhenmian suspected it was mocking her, but she couldn’t prove it.

A simmering impatience churned in her stomach, and she knew the cause wasn’t the System’s words, but the agonizing wait.

Thankfully, a brief, melodious chime rescued her from her turmoil.

“No worries, there’s no rush. A truly excellent gift is worth waiting for.”

So gentle, Jiang Zhenmian thought, her lips curving upward almost imperceptibly. She was about to reply when her hand froze mid-air.
Would replying immediately make me seem too eager? Clutching her phone, she anxiously waited two full minutes before finally tapping out her response.

“Hehe, whenever Sister has time, I’ll bring the painting over.”

“Oh, I still don’t know Sister’s name. I’m Jiang Zhenmian.”

What does it feel like to be lucid?

It’s like plunging a red-hot iron billet, fresh from the forge, straight into ice-cold water. Between the searing heat and the frigid chill, steam hisses upward as a wave of icy rationality invades Gu Zhibai’s mind, clearing away the fog that had clouded her heart. Suddenly, she could observe herself from an outsider’s perspective, scrutinizing and understanding her past actions.

Absurd. Ridiculous.

Was that really her? Was that submissive, pleading woman, begging for her lover’s affection, truly the decisive, resolute person she knew herself to be?

In just one year, it was as if she had been cursed, making countless foolish mistakes. Looking back, she couldn’t recognize herself at all. It was as if someone else had been controlling her body, forcing her to act in ways that felt utterly foreign.

Gu Zhibai was reborn on an ordinary day, an ordinary night. She remembered how she had died. As a lifelong materialist, she was now forced to acknowledge the world’s mysteries.

She couldn’t explain the mechanism, but she was overjoyed by the outcome. Reborn before everything had gone wrong, wasn’t this heaven’s way of granting her a second chance to right her wrongs?

Leaning against the balcony railing, Gu Zhibai gazed out at the night. The stars were faint, but the city lights blazed brilliantly, and cars streamed endlessly through the streets. All the beauty of the mortal world seemed to converge in her eyes. The soft, amber glow of the balcony light bathed her in a timeless stillness, casting half her body into shadow and concealing the cold, sharp indifference deep within her pupils.

Gu Zhiyao was a fool, Jiang Zhenmian a petty schemer, and Ye Wanwan a brainless leech, content to reap the rewards of others’ efforts.

She had never given her younger brother a second thought, dismissing him as a wastrel living off the family’s wealth. She never imagined he harbored such ambitious designs.

Revenge was a delicate art, not to be rushed. How much more satisfying to wait until her enemies were basking in self-congratulatory triumph, convinced their victory was assured, before pushing them off their high perch? To witness their shock and utter collapse would be exquisite.

She had followed Gu Zhiyao’s plan, attending the art exhibition to meet her “lover.” The events of that day would forever be etched in her memory.

But something had changed.

Gu Zhibai maintained her composure, betraying no hint of her true feelings. She left the exhibition with a polite smile.

Now, as messages popped up on her phone screen, she calmly took a shower before finally picking up the device and replying in her usual tone.

What’s my name?

Gu Zhibai scoffed. You really don’t know my name? she typed, her fingers flying across the screen. Stop with this nauseatingly sweet act.

She took a deep breath, suppressing the rising tide of disgust. My surname is Gu, she replied.

A message popped up quickly from the other end: “Sister Gu,” followed by a cat emoji. “Do you often go to art exhibitions, Sister Gu?”

“I go occasionally when I have some free time, just to relax.”

Of course not. I went specifically for you.

Jiang Zhenmian hugged her phone, lying on her bed, racking her brains for conversation topics. She’d never found chatting so difficult before. Asking about her job? Too intrusive, too forward for a first conversation, lacking subtlety. Asking about her hobbies? Even worse, her ulterior motives would be glaringly obvious.

Gu Zhibai seemed to sense her anxiety and thoughtfully steered the conversation to a new topic, remarking that she looked very young. “Are you a recent graduate?”
Jiang Zhenmian: Ha! She thinks I look young!

She grabbed a mirror and scrutinized her face for a long time, marveling at the plumpness of her skin. She couldn’t help but grin.

Jiang Zhenmian perfectly played the part of a naive and straightforward college student, her tone brimming with enthusiasm and youthful awkwardness, full of dreams and aspirations for the future. She and Gu Zhibai fell into a natural back-and-forth.

It wasn’t entirely an act. The longer they chatted, the more Jiang Zhenmian became immersed in the conversation. When she spoke of her dreams, Gu Zhibai didn’t laugh at her naivety or douse her with cold reality. Instead, she offered practical advice while encouraging her.

Jiang Zhenmian had never experienced such mature and understanding support before. The more she spoke, the more carried away she became, feeling as if she were drunk. Her mind swam, her heart raced, and her blood surged, completely losing her sense of direction.

Imagination had been the perfect catalyst. Before their official meeting, Jiang Zhenmian’s infatuation could be attributed to self-persuasion through fantasy and a savior complex.

After their meeting, her ethereal infatuation solidified into a bundle of dry straw. Gu Zhibai’s words were the flame that ignited it, pouring over her chest, making her blood boil and her mind evaporate.

A deep longing took root within her, even stirring jealousy toward the original Jiang Zhenmian. How could someone who had possessed such a treasure, who had experienced such pure and genuine devotion, treat it with disdain and discard it like worn-out shoes?

No matter, Jiang Zhenmian thought as she said goodnight, silently gazing at the pages of words. I’m not her.

Now she belongs to me.

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