Scumbag Alpha’s Pheromones Are Toxic - Chapter 2

Because they both understood each other perfectly, there was no beating around the bush—every topic was blunt and straightforward.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

Even saying those five words made Ji Yao cringe with embarrassment.

Yet Qin Zishu’s expression remained utterly calm, as if she was completely used to such a blunt invitation.

Ji Yao clenched her molars, feeling an itch of frustration she could hardly bear.

“Since you’re here, then I have plans for tonight.” Qin Zishu extended a hand, took Ji Yao’s, and led her away from the party.

As they descended the staircase, Qin Zishu’s assistant hurried up—probably to deliver some instructions. Ji Yao instinctively stepped back a few paces, her gaze following Qin Zishu’s tall, slender figure and suddenly, she felt the urge to kick her down the stairs.

What on earth had she raised?

Even after dying and being reborn ten years later, she had to clean up Qin Zishu’s mess. It was maddening.

But there was no choice. She had taken Qin Zishu in and raised her, and even if the girl had turned out difficult, Ji Yao had to take full responsibility.

As a child, Qin Zishu’s personality had never been easy. She disliked closeness with anyone, even pets. At that age, most kids would fawn over a kitten or a puppy, but not her.

Ji Yao, wanting to encourage warmth among the children, had instructed her assistant to bring a beautiful ragdoll cat.

At the orphanage, all the other children gathered around, but young Qin Zishu stood apart, arms crossed, coldly averting her gaze.

Ji Yao, at the height of her fame, noticed this stubborn child and crouched down to her level. “You don’t like kittens? This one’s very gentle. Try petting it.”

She carefully took the child’s small hand, guiding it toward the cat’s head. The tiny hand was delicate but calloused, and Ji Yao’s heart warmed with both sympathy and tenderness.

But Qin Zishu abruptly snatched her hand away. “Being gentle is useless. Weakness only gets you beaten.”

Ji Yao froze. She hadn’t expected a child that age to speak such words. At the same time, the orphanage staff noticed her expression change. Smiling nervously, they quickly tried to apologize, not wanting to offend a famous celebrity.

“We’re sorry, Sister Ji. This wild girl has no sense; we haven’t educated her properly.”

“Are you okay, Sister Ji?”

Qin Zishu, unbothered, watched the adults perform their forced politeness. Soon, a strict staff member grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away from Ji Yao.

Qin Zishu looked at them all coldly, her gaze stubbornly fixed on Ji Yao.

Ji Yao’s view was blocked; she couldn’t reach out to the child. She could only watch her being taken away.

If she had held her back then, if she had taken care of her properly from the start, would Qin Zishu have turned out differently?

It was too late to think about that now. Ji Yao silently sighed. She had died too soon, leaving Qin Zishu in the entertainment world at a critical age. At fourteen, her worldview was forming—and Ji Yao had left her alone in the industry’s chaos. No wonder she had grown into what she had.

She berated herself. If she had left little Qin Zishu in the mountains, she would have remained a mountain child—wildflowers of the mountains are still better than greenhouse poppies, aren’t they?

Now, reborn ten years later, Ji Yao could do nothing but follow Qin Zishu’s back, step by step. At least she could repair what she could. As long as she lived, she would not allow Qin Zishu to make unforgivable mistakes again.

A kept “canary”?

Who gave her the nerve?

“Sorry! My apologies, Sister Qin, I didn’t mean to touch you!”

A sudden shout snapped Ji Yao back to reality. She hurried forward.

Qin Zishu had twisted her ankle descending the stairs. Her assistant instinctively steadied her, briefly brushing against her exposed skin. Qin Zishu, like a live wire, flung the hand away—still intolerant of close contact.

The assistant was startled, apologizing profusely.

Ji Yao glanced at Qin Zishu and read one word in her taut expression: enough.

“Just like when she was a child,” Ji Yao thought. Small-mindedness hadn’t changed one bit.

The behavior felt eerily familiar—like the villainous celebrity in novels, alienating everyone around her, earning infamy, and ultimately falling from grace.

That instinct was alarming. A public downfall would be catastrophic for a celebrity. Ji Yao could not just watch.

“Sister Qin.” Ji Yao began, feeling a shiver of unease. She immersed herself in her “role” and spoke gently, “She meant well in helping you. Please forgive her.”

Heh. Forgive her—or else I might break your legs next.

Qin Zishu raised an eyebrow, surprised at her newly assigned “canary”: “Are you lecturing me?”

Ji Yao wanted to hit her on the spot, but reality wouldn’t allow it.

Biting her molars, she tilted her head innocently, hiding her anger behind a pure expression.

“I’m sorry, my position doesn’t allow me to act like this. I just spoke without thinking.”

Qin Zishu lowered her gaze. “Oh.”

“Ugh,” Ji Yao thought. This little brat was infuriating, no matter her age.

It was nearly autumn; the air outside was chilly. After descending the long staircase, they reached the waiting car.

The assistant hurried ahead, bringing out two coats. Ji Yao didn’t notice at first—then realized the assistant had draped one over her before Qin Zishu.

Wait, before Qin Zishu?

Knowing how picky Qin Zishu was, the assistant’s boldness was impressive. Ji Yao, merely a “canary” just met today, was being shielded because she had spoken up?

Ji Yao looked at the assistant in disbelief. The assistant didn’t even glance back, simply lowering her head.

Qin Zishu, however, stepped aside, blocking Ji Yao’s view, and gave a polite gesture toward the open car door.

Ji Yao nodded and obediently got in.

The scene was blatantly performative, and Qin Zishu’s gestures seemed exaggerated, as if afraid no one would notice.