Scumbag Alpha’s Pheromones Are Toxic - Chapter 24

“Thank you for taking me with you.”

On the way back, Qin Zishu suddenly spoke these words with an airy, casual indifference.

This was a sentence that should have been said over a decade ago. But back then, she wasn’t mature enough, or perhaps her rebellious streak had held her back, preventing her from ever uttering that “thank you.”

By the time Ji Yao passed away, that gratitude had rotted in her heart, fermenting into a profound agony. Eventually, it transformed into thorns that bound Qin Zishu, ensuring she would never find peace.

Qin Zishu’s eyes grew warm again. As her emotions surged, other painful memories began to resurface.

“You’re welcome,” Ji Yao replied breezily. she reached out an arm to pull Qin Zishu into her embrace, but her first attempt missed, her hand catching nothing but air.

Ji Yao was not the type to settle for coming back empty-handed. She extended her reach again and finally “kidnapped” the girl, hooking her arm around Qin Zishu’s neck and tucking her head under her armpit.

Qin Zishu: “…”

The somber atmosphere was instantly shattered. Qin Zishu froze, then couldn’t help but laugh through her tears. “Oh, you.”

She took the opportunity to lay her head in Ji Yao’s lap. Ji Yao said nothing, while Lou Juan and Xu Xiyan in the car practically played dead to give them privacy.

Ji Yao looked down at Qin Zishu. The wild brat she had brought home back then had grown into a woman. Not only was there not a trace of rural “rusticity” left, but she possessed a face more “high-fashion” than almost any star in the industry.

Perhaps it was due to her delicate, cold monolid eyes.

Ji Yao’s fingertips lightly brushed over Qin Zishu’s eyelids as she studied her intently.

The brat had an excellent bone structure and a flawlessly smooth jawline perfect for the cinema. On camera, she had virtually no “bad angles.” Her skin was pale and lustrous; even though her eyebrows and lashes were lighter than average, it wasn’t a problem; her team would handle the styling.

Tracing downward, Ji Yao touched the straight bridge of her nose. Its height alone was enough to outshine most young starlets. Qin Zishu had a straight nose which, paired with her sharp monolids, gave her an aura of fierce, lethal intensity.

“Sister, what are you doing.” Qin Zishu murmured. Ji Yao’s touch was ticklish, and she voiced her protest like a spoiled child. “No treats for you.”

Ji Yao said nothing. She simply covered the girl’s eyes with her hand, then leaned down.

In the back seat, Lou Juan and Xu Xiyan both bowed their heads. In the front, the driver silently lowered the privacy partition.

Indeed, Ji Yao thought, Qin Zishu’s lips are petite, and just like her personality, they feel cool to the touch.

Qin Zishu’s cold fingertips gradually tightened, hooking onto Ji Yao’s sleeve. Ji Yao’s hand slid along the smooth line of the girl’s jaw, her fingers eventually tangling into her hair and coming to rest behind her ear. She lightly flicked the girl’s ear cartilage with her index finger, stroking and kneading it thoughtfully.

In the silence, Ji Yao took a soft breath, lifting Qin Zishu slightly higher before leaning down again.

This time, the lips and tongue were no longer cold. With a gentle lick from Ji Yao, Qin Zishu obligingly parted her teeth, engaging in a silent, practiced kiss.

There was no specific reason for it, nor was it a sudden surge of passion. Ji Yao simply felt like kissing her.

Just like that time she had encountered danger in Mount Kui—Ji Yao had suddenly wanted to take young Qin Zishu away for no reason at all.

Every time Ji Yao visited the Mount Kui Orphanage, she seemed to unluckily start her period. On that particular trip, she had intentionally moved her schedule forward to avoid those miserable days.

But despite all her calculations, her period arrived early.

“The weather is bad; don’t head up the mountain,” Ji Yao instructed her young assistant over the phone. “Wait until after the rain. This heavy a downpour shouldn’t last long.”

Ji Yao had chosen an overcast day to go up Mount Kui, but the moment she arrived—before the rest of her team could catch up—the storm cut off their meeting point. All of Ji Yao’s supplies, especially her sanitary products, were in the assistant’s car.

She had left in a hurry, and the car she was in only carried the gifts for the children; there was nothing else.

The mountain roads of Mount Kui were rugged and steep. When the weather turned sour, transportation became incredibly difficult. The heavy rain transformed into countless streams, rushing down the winding slopes and washing out the dirt roads until they were riddled with potholes, making it impossible for vehicles to drive up.

“Sister Ji, what are you going to do?” the assistant asked anxiously. “We’re worried about you being there alone.”

“Nothing will happen, don’t worry. It’s just rain; it’ll clear up soon.” Ji Yao didn’t think much of it and was even in the mood to joke. “I’ll just stay at the orphanage. If something does happen to me here, these kids will get even more media attention, and they won’t have to worry about their futures anymore.”

“Don’t say such nonsense.”

The assistant froze. On the other end of the line, she heard a cold, childish voice. Though it was the voice of a child, the tone was commanding.

Young Qin Zishu was looking at Ji Yao, her face full of displeasure. “You aren’t allowed to say bad things like that.”

Ji Yao hung up and pinched her cheek. “Are you worried about me?”

“I’m not,” Qin Zishu looked away. “I just said it.”

Ji Yao crossed her arms and stared at her. Under that gaze, Qin Zishu let out a helpless sigh like a little adult. “There are some bad things you shouldn’t say.”

Ji Yao sat down. “Why?”

“The elders in the village say that if a bad thought suddenly pops into your head and you say it out loud, it might be a warning from your guardian spirit.” Qin Zishu’s eyes were deep; when she stared at someone, it felt as though she could swallow them whole. She said tonelessly, “When my luck is bad, the jokes I make come true. The bad ones, anyway.”

Ji Yao’s heart stirred. What kind of terrible things has this small child experienced to be able to say something like that?

She had come today with a special gift for young Qin Zishu. The moment she stepped into the girl’s room, the storm outside broke.

Ji Yao had rarely seen rain this heavy. At first, she and Qin Zishu stood at the door, marveling at it for a moment. But twenty minutes later, when the rain intensified, they both realized something was wrong.

The rain was too heavy. And they were on an unstable slope halfway up the mountain. In a downpour like this, it was extremely dangerous.

The Mount Kui Orphanage was essentially a condemned building; it was scheduled to be relocated in two weeks. No one had expected such a storm—a disaster that even the weather forecasts hadn’t predicted.

In rain like this, Ji Yao couldn’t even take an umbrella out for a walk. She could only sit in Qin Zishu’s room and wait for it to stop. As they chatted aimlessly, both of their expressions grew heavy.

Suddenly, Ji Yao’s phone buzzed several times. She looked down, it was an emergency disaster warning from the Meteorological Bureau.

In the shadows, something was coming.

Ji Yao took a sharp breath and suddenly clutched her abdomen. It hurt. Her period had arrived early, and she was the type of person whose cramps could practically kill her.

Every piece of bad luck had converged at once.

Qin Zishu boiled some water and helped her fill a hot water bottle. “Holding this might help.”

“Thank you.” Ji Yao gave a weak smile, hugging the old hot water bottle tight. She checked her phone one last time only to find the signal was gone.

Qin Zishu wasn’t surprised. “The utility poles on the mountain probably fell over.”

As soon as she spoke, they heard someone outside shouting at the top of their lungs: “The power’s out!”

An ominous feeling spread through Ji Yao’s heart. Her lips turned pale as she stared silently out the window. The rain was so thick she couldn’t even see the distant mountains.

Leaning against the wall, Ji Yao chuckled. “Well, this really is unlucky.”

Qin Zishu glanced at her and used Ji Yao’s own words against her: “The base of the wall is cold. Don’t sleep pressed against it.”

“Hahahaha!” The pale Ji Yao was amused. After laughing for a bit, some color finally returned to her face. She childishly curled her body around the hot water bottle. “I won’t!”

Qin Zishu: “It’s your stomach that hurts, anyway.”

“I don’t care. I like this damp air by the wall,” Ji Yao said, mimicking Qin Zishu’s tone on purpose. “So, what if my stomach hurts? Everyone gets a stomachache now and then.”

Qin Zishu couldn’t be bothered to deal with her.

A moment later, Qin Zishu suddenly stood up and took a pair of scissors to open the gift Ji Yao had brought her. The packaging was complicated—not because it was exquisite, but because the owner was a bit clumsy. There were multiple layers of wrapping paper, and it looked like the owner had gotten frustrated; the tape was a tangled mess, and it was finished off with a haphazardly tied ribbon.

Qin Zishu was silent for a moment, then tilted her head to look at her. Ji Yao had her eyes closed to rest and didn’t notice the gaze.

Qin Zishu knew Ji Yao had wrapped this herself. The gifts the other children received were all wrapped with the same uniform perfection, but only a gift wrapped by Ji Yao personally would look like this.

It was the thought that counted.

Qin Zishu traced the packaging several times, feeling genuinely touched. The woman before her was a superstar, while she was just an unwanted child in an orphanage. Yet, Ji Yao had taken the time to wrap a gift for her by hand. Even more than that, Qin Zishu was moved by the fact that Ji Yao was willing to set aside her status to actually listen to her and talk to her.

Doesn’t she think my views are childish?

A superstar who once only appeared on television was right there in front of her. Even though her face was pale with pain, she still spoke, chatted, and joked with her as an equal.

A feeling young Qin Zishu couldn’t quite describe suddenly welled up in her heart.

Outside, the rain poured in torrents; inside, the girl’s soul was shaken to its core.

She unwrapped the gift and froze, she had seen this object on TV before.

In a televised interview, Ji Yao had been answering questions from a brand sponsor while meticulously painting a small figurine. The figurine itself was famous; it was a palm-sized, exquisitely crafted piece made from a very rare material.

It came uncolored by default, and the specialized paints used were not available on the open market.

In short, it was incredibly precious. Having been hand-painted by Ji Yao herself, its significance was on another level entirely.

When the interview ended, the host suggested leaving the figurine behind, asking Ji Yao to sign the base so they could give it away to a fan in a lucky draw.

Ji Yao, cradling the carefully painted figurine, rested her chin on her hand and said regretfully, “Ah, is that so? I thought it was meant for me.”

The host laughed and quickly explained, “This is a benefit for the fans!”

Behind the cameras, the organizers exchanged glances and whispered among themselves. Ji Yao, still a bit reluctant to let it go, joked, “Can I rig the draw then? I’m my own fan, too!”

The room erupted in laughter. On the live stream, the bullet comments from fans were equally supportive:

“Let Sister keep it! As long as she’s happy!”

“We don’t mind; we’d probably just be part of the statistical background anyway!”

“The prize might not even reach a fan; the organizers would probably snatch it. Better to let Sister keep it!”

In the end, Ji Yao kept the figurine. She explained to the camera: “The color scheme I chose this time isn’t very conventional. It reminded me of someone who also doesn’t follow the conventional path, so I wanted to keep it and give it to her to play with.”

The fans went wild, everyone speculating on who that person might be.

The color scheme was indeed bold and eccentric. Because it was so imaginative, it evoked a unique sense of freedom and comfort.

As young Qin Zishu held the gift in her hands, she felt the exact same way.

Ji Yao truly saw her as a human being—a unique, independent soul rather than a valueless child of poverty.

Qin Zishu flipped the figurine over. Sure enough, there was no signature on the base.

If she had signed it, it would have been a superstar giving a condescending handout to a fan. Without the signature, it was simply a gift straight from the heart.

Qin Zishu gripped the figurine tightly, thinking to herself: This sentiment, I’ve received it.