Reborn as the Heartless Alpha - Chapter 23 

No, no, absolutely impossible.

Almost as soon as the thought surfaced, Song Yi immediately dismissed it.

It must have been the influence of the original scumbag Alpha. Although Song Yi enjoyed reading novels, it was merely a brief escape from the pressures of work. Deep down, she didn’t truly believe in genuine love in this world perhaps because she had never witnessed it in real life.

In her original world, Song Yi’s parents were part of a business alliance between wealthy families. After she was born, they essentially lived their own separate lives. Song Yi had never felt even a trace of affection from them whether between her parents or directed at her.

From a young age, she knew she was the future heir to the conglomerate. Every step she took was meticulously planned by the family. She found such an existence rather dull, but aside from excelling at the tasks handed to her, she had no idea what she truly wanted.

When she was eighteen, with both parents still alive, the family embarked on a short trip physically together, but spiritually worlds apart. The journey lasted three days. Before setting off, Song Yi had actually been looking forward to it, hoping: Would her family finally show even the slightest hint of warmth, like those described in books?

But the reality was that at every stop, her parents only took her to meet industry titans from various fields. That was the true purpose of the trip.

She remembered one particular tycoon who was practically semi-monastic. After an important meeting at the temple, the monk-robed magnate smiled kindly at her and said, “Little Song, why not draw a love fortune stick? It’s very accurate.”

Song Yi glanced back at her parents then, seeing their approving nods. They didn’t consider this a waste of precious time likely because the suggestion came from this reclusive mogul.

Kneeling on the rush cushion before the Buddha statue, shaking the fortune stick cylinder, Song Yi felt nothing inside. She didn’t believe in such things and even found the idea of seeking love fortunes in a temple somewhat absurd.

She remembered it clearly that day, she shook the cylinder with her eyes closed for what felt like an eternity before a single bamboo stick finally leaped out. The stick struck the smooth stone floor with a crisp sound. Song Yi opened her eyes and bent to pick up her love fortune.

“Come with me to have it interpreted,” the semi-monastic tycoon kindly offered.

Song Yi stared expressionlessly at the fortune stick, then suddenly curled her lips into a smile. “No need.” She turned the stick around, showing it to the tycoon and her parents.

Sparsely carved on the stick were the words: “Star of Solitude, Lifelong Loveless.”

The tycoon’s smile froze, his face stiff with awkwardness. Song Yi’s parents, much like herself, showed no particular reaction. Her father even remarked, “Perfect for a marriage alliance to strengthen the family.” Her mother might have sighed or perhaps Song Yi had misheard.

“Draw another one,” the tycoon warmly suggested. Song Yi shook her head and declined, saying this one was just fine. She took the stick back with her, placing it in a used pen holder as a personal reminder.

“Song Yi, oh Song Yi, even the heavens declare you the Star of Solitude. So in all things, you must rely on your own efforts.”

After her parents passed away, it was indeed her alone who struggled to hold together the crumbling company. Those old foxes refused to accept that someone so young could occupy such a high position, towering above them. Methodically, she wielded legal weapons to defend her rightful status as the sole heir. When they doubted her capabilities, she worked overtime to clarify every aspect of the company’s affairs, pulling shareholders who had once supported her parents to her side. Once she had firmly established her footing, she never slackened, managing the company impeccably.

She truly did it, she could do it alone.

But when she returned home and saw the marriage divination slip, the one least resembling a love fortune that she had placed in the pen holder as a self-motivator, she unexpectedly felt a pang of loneliness. To dispel this loneliness became Song Yi’s original reason for reading novels.

She found that novels were always more beautiful than reality. No matter how tragic the process, the endings were almost always happy. She even genuinely empathized with the characters in the stories. All those complex emotions that the strong, unyielding Song Yi of reality had no need for came flooding back. She would sympathize with Zhou Zhou’s suffering in the novels, admire her rebirth after hardship, and sigh with relief when the scumbag alpha finally got their comeuppance in the end.

Yet she felt that Zhou Zhou shouldn’t have had to endure such painor rather, her life had already been bitter enough before encountering the scumbag alpha. When she read the twists in the later parts of the novel, she couldn’t help but wonder why Zhou Zhou’s birth parents and fiancée couldn’t have appeared sooner.

She didn’t know how to define her feelings for the fictional Zhou Zhou. Sympathy? Pity? It seemed to be both.

After transmigrating into the book, Zhou Zhou was no longer just a fictional character to her. She had felt Zhou Zhou’s warmth firsthand they were both real people now. She became even more uncertain about her feelings toward Zhou Zhou.

Especially with the original scumbag alpha’s presence lingering in between. That persona would often surface unexpectedly, and whenever it did, it would want to do those things to Zhou Zhou. Song Yi wasn’t sure whether her occasional urges toward Zhou Zhou were entirely influenced by the original scumbag alpha or not. She preferred to believe they were along with the effects of pheromones. In any case, she didn’t want to acknowledge that she might be harboring any inappropriate emotions of her own.

In the adjacent room, after Song Yi left, Zhou Zhou, freed from the oppressive presence of the alpha, slumped weakly to the floor.

She raised a hand and lightly touched the back of her neck, where Miss Song had touched her. The spot still felt warm, and her face burned along with it.

“Lock the door.” Miss Song’s parting instruction echoed in her mind. Summoning her strength, Zhou Zhou got up and locked the door. Once it was secured, she leaned against it, unmoving, closing her eyes to listen quietly for any sounds from Miss Song’s side.

Silence.

Zhou Zhou wasn’t sure whether the soundproofing between the rooms was too good or if something had happened to Miss Song. After waiting for over ten minutes, she unlocked the door, stepped out, and walked to Miss Song’s door. Gathering her courage, she knocked.

When the knocking sound reached her, Song Yi initially thought she had misheard and ignored it.

But when the knocking came again, she walked to the door. There were only two people in this villa now herself and Zhou Zhou. The one knocking could only be Zhou Zhou.

Sure enough, Zhou Zhou’s concerned voice soon came from the other side.

“Miss Song, are you alright?”

Leaning against the door, Song Yi felt an inexplicable urge to laugh. So she curled her lips into a smile. After seeing me nearly lose control again, is Zhou Zhou still not afraid of me?

Gradually, Song Yi’s laughter faded, leaving her unable to summon even a smile.

“I’m fine. You should go back and rest,” Song Yi’s voice was weak and drained.

Standing outside the door, Zhou Zhou lowered her knocking hand, clenched it into a fist, and hesitated to press further. She simply said, “Miss Song, feel free to contact me anytime if you need me,” before returning to her own room.

Song Yi leaned the back of her head against the door, dazed for a few seconds. Only after hearing the sound of the neighboring door closing did she belatedly respond with a soft “Okay.”

That night, Song Yi lay awake until dawn. The next morning, before the sun had even risen, she got up and went to find Dr. Ding. By the time she drove to Ding Chen’s home, the sky had already brightened.

Ding Chen had just woken up and hadn’t even had time to wash her face when the doorbell rang. It was hard not to be startled, she suspected it might be some shady character. Peering through the peephole, she found someone even more surprising than a criminal. Her drowsiness vanished instantly, and she hurriedly threw on a loose white robe before daring to open the door.

“Surely Song Yi isn’t that deranged,” Ding Chen thought fearfully. She was a beta; if Song Yi had any intentions toward her, she would have acted long ago.

But then again, Song Yi had hired her and even gifted her an entire villa complete with a medical lab and research facilities. Could there really be some hidden motive?

One second before opening the door, Ding Chen ruffled her hair even more. She had just woken up and hadn’t freshened up even if Song Yi was deranged, she wouldn’t be desperate enough to go that far, right?

The so-called “deranged” and “desperate” Song Yi barely glanced at Ding Chen as she stepped inside, quickly averting her gaze. “I’m so sorry to disturb you this early,” she apologized, “but I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking about what you said yesterday that developing a drug to completely suppress an alpha’s physiological urges isn’t impossible.”

Huh?

Ding Chen, her hair a mess and her brows furrowed into a deep frown, rubbed her eyes and put on her glasses to scrutinize her peculiar employer. Finally, she cautiously said, “Miss Song, forcibly suppressing natural desires isn’t advisable. Prolonged repression can easily lead to… deviancy.”

An image flashed through Song Yi’s mind her uncontrolled urge to touch Zhou Zhou’s scent gland the day before. Now that was deviant.

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