Scumbag Alpha’s Pheromones Are Toxic - Chapter 28.2 (THE END)

She spent every cent she had, donating everything that could be donated. Like the wanderer of her childhood dreams, she walked away at the peak of her career with nothing to her name. She was the second top-tier star to leave at the height of their fame.

The first was Ji Yao.

“I’ve come to join your household!” Qin Zishu knocked on Ji Yao’s bedroom door, having packed her bags before dawn.

Ji Yao wasn’t even awake yet. Qin Zishu waved her hand at Lou Juan. “I’ll wait here myself. You’re on vacation now.”

Lou Juan had been tethered to Qin Zishu through several minor loops. Though they argued occasionally, they had been partners in the struggle, and their bond was complex.

Lou Juan gave a sincere farewell. “The world is wide and the seas are vast. I hope you find your freedom.”

Qin Zishu leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely at peace. “The world is yours to roam. I hope you find your fortune.”

Using her knowledge from the multiple loops, Lou Juan had purchased several lucrative plots of land; she wouldn’t be working for anyone else in the industry anymore.

In the original timeline, the one without the loops—Lou Juan had followed the “Other” Ji Yao and helped with her shadow businesses. Had that continued, she would have ended up just like Sun Lin once the power shifted. Fortunately, Qin Zishu had forcibly dragged her into the loops. Though the days were hard, they had accumulated enough memory to stop making the same mistakes.

“By the way, I heard about Sun Lin,” Lou Juan said, adjusting her glasses. “Her sentence was commuted because she’s pregnant. Her husband wasn’t so lucky.”

Qin Zishu remembered then, she and Ji Yao had run into the couple at the hospital specifically because they were there for a pregnancy check-up.

In previous loops, Qin Zishu had tried to punish Sun Lin, but the woman’s crimes were never discovered. It was as if someone was protecting her; even when she was “punished,” she only lost money or property, never facing jail time.

Thinking about it now, that “backing force” was likely the “Evil Ji Yao” herself.

Qin Zishu: “…”

She finally understood why, in previous minor loops, when she helped “Ji Yao” get revenge, the woman never looked happy. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the help, it was because those people were her own subordinates!

Then, a dark premonition suddenly gripped Qin Zishu.

What about Ji Yao’s mentor, Zhong Huaixing?

Was he the same?

Qin Zishu was in a daze, unable to fully grasp the intricate logic of that “Evil God.”

“You mean Elder Zhong?” Ji Yao had finally opened the door. She explained through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, “In the first Major Loop—before I died—Elder Zhong was my mentor and a titan of the entertainment industry. He controlled a lot of people and a lot of money. He helped me start those charity projects, but he also tried to control me, forcing me to do his bidding. I simply didn’t agree.”

After that, the “Real” Ji Yao no longer participated in the minor loops.

The Evil God took her place, sweeping through the board and bringing Zhong Huaixing under total control. She dragged countless people into the loops to suffer until, eventually, even Zhong Huaixing became a mere vassal to the Evil God, serving as a puppet to do “Ji Yao’s” dirty work.

The Zhong Huaixing of the past hid behind others, perched high above the world. The Zhong Huaixing of the loops was pushed to the front, serving as a shield and a scapegoat whenever trouble arose.

Eventually, Qin Zishu and Ji Yao moved away from the clamor of the big city.

Three years after their departure, the authorities finally closed the net. Zhong Huaixing and his student, Gan Siyu, vanished.

Qin Zishu and Ji Yao knew nothing of this—or rather, they no longer cared. They settled in a quiet town at a moderate altitude. In the distance, the Cangshan mountains were capped with snow year-round, and during the shifting seasons, a lingering mist would cradle the mountainside.

Their neighbors were good-natured locals who often invited them to communal dinners. Qin Zishu, dressed in local ethnic attire, would join the traditional dances, blending in so perfectly it seemed as if she had been born there.

A local elder praised her in the village dialect. She translated it simultaneously for Ji Yao: “Zishu learns everything so fast. Now that she’s mastered the local ways, even I can’t tell she’s an outsider.”

Ji Yao couldn’t quite understand the dialect, but she watched them with a constant smile.

A young local who had just returned from the city found the two women familiar but didn’t dare ask directly. Instead, she said politely in Mandarin, “You two are exceptionally beautiful. With looks like yours, you could have been major stars!”

Qin Zishu hummed a tune nonchalantly. “Being a star isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I much prefer wandering.”

The group raised their glasses, couldn’t agree more.

Later that night, a tipsy Qin Zishu grew flushed. With the alcohol hitting her, she began to ramble about her deepest secrets—the loops, the “beatings” she got while trying to chase her love, the “wife” who ran away and wouldn’t come home.

Ji Yao watched her drunken antics with a mix of helplessness and amusement, eventually leading her back to their room. Inside, amidst the scent of wine, a fragrance of bitter tea began to silently permeate the air.

Ji Yao had never smelled anything like it. She took a delicate sniff, and the moment she realized it was the scent of pheromones, her knees went weak. She stood up, covering her nose and mouth. “Restrain your pheromones. I’m going out for some air.”

Qin Zishu locked the door behind her, her eyes rimmed with red from the alcohol. “No. You can’t go. You promised to take responsibility for me.”

Ji Yao: “…”

This time, it was no longer a pseudo-differentiation. That night, Ji Yao officially differentiated into a standard Alpha. Her pheromone scent was identical to Qin Zishu’s—bitter tea.

“I thought you hated bitter tea?” The next morning, Ji Yao pushed the “wolf cub” off her with a dark expression. “If you hate it, can you stay further away?”

“That’s because I hated myself,” Qin Zishu replied, clinging to her like glue. “But if it’s your scent, Sister, I love it dearly.”

Ji Yao sighed. The brat I raised myself, I can’t hit her, I can’t hit her.

It must be said that the “Evil God” had scrubbed Ji Yao’s record clean, allowing her to live this final Major Loop with a pure slate, like an ordinary person. The Evil God woke twenty-four times to trade for a single, true divine spark. From then on, there would be no more disasters.

Decades later, a silver-haired Ji Yao sat by the bed. She silently closed Qin Zishu’s eyes, then lay down beside her to sleep forever.

The moment the Major Loop was completed, life returned to Mount Kui. Like a gray painting being filled with color, the scene reset: in the temple, a young Qin Zishu pushed the idol over.

The statue shattered, revealing the Evil God within.

“You brat, get down here!” A middle-aged woman raised her hand to slap the young Qin Zishu.

The blow never landed. A slender, beautiful hand caught her wrist mid-air. The woman turned to see a bright, elegant young woman standing behind her.

“Hello, my name is Ji Yao. I’m in charge of the renovations here,” Ji Yao said with a smile. “Don’t hit the child; she did nothing wrong. We were going to replace this idol anyway; it had to be broken sooner or later.”

The villager didn’t dare speak. The woman before her clearly came from the big city and held authority. She backed away sullenly.

Ji Yao ordered a new deity to be installed, then gave a final instruction: “Smash the pieces of the old one on the ground. It doesn’t look like a proper deity; it shouldn’t receive offerings anymore.”

Whether good or evil, the “Other” Ji Yao would vanish along with the shattered idol. From this life forward, there would be no more nonsensical loops.

“Do you still know me?” Ji Yao stepped out of the temple and crouched down before the young Qin Zishu. “Do you remember me?”

The young girl shook her head in confusion, though a small smile played on her dirty face. “I don’t. But you’re a good person.”

“Do you want to come wandering with me?”

Young Qin Zishu’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Ji Yao hooked her pinky with the girl’s. “I never lie to children. People who lie to children have to drink nothing but bitter tea forever.”

The girl laughed. “Are you taking me away?”

Ji Yao stood up. “I’m going to talk to your parents about adoption.”

Qin Zishu’s parents had little affection for her. For a large sum of money, they gave her away without a second thought. When she left, no one came to see her off except Ji Yao.

The road at the village entrance was still under construction, so the car couldn’t get in. Ji Yao walked to her side and handed her a strangely colored little figurine. “A gift for you.”

At first glance, the young Qin Zishu looked at it with a bit of disdain, but a moment later, she felt a spark of affection. Affection? For this ugly little thing?

As soon as that thought appeared, the girl burst into tears. She cried and cried, as if she had a lifetime of sorrows to pour out. Ji Yao waited until she was finished, then leaned down to pick her up on her back.

“Are you sad to leave? Do you still want to go?”

The girl instantly stopped crying. “Yes!”

Ji Yao smiled and carried the “wolf cub” down the main road away from the village. The weather was cool, and the path was lined with withered ancient trees. On the bare branches, scraps of plastic insulation from the fields had dried into white-brown ribbons, fluttering in the wind.

They danced along the roadside like soul-guiding banners from a distant home.

“Don’t look back,” Ji Yao said to the girl on her back. “Just keep moving forward. Don’t look back. The future is beautiful.”

[THE END]