Scumbag Alpha’s Pheromones Are Toxic - Chapter 3

Once they got into the car, Qin Zishu quickly put some distance between herself and Ji Yao.

Ji Yao didn’t feel like talking either, so the ride fell into silence.

During the drive, Qin Zishu received a flood of calls from all sorts of random people. She didn’t hang up a single one, even though her condition was clearly deteriorating.

It was only then that Ji Yao noticed how pale Qin Zishu looked—like someone who had lost a lot of blood, her skin drained of life. Ji Yao realized this wasn’t the effect of makeup; it had to be a physical issue.

“Qin-jie, your suppressant.” The young assistant quietly handed over a vial. “Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital?”

She trailed off and instinctively glanced at Ji Yao.

Ji Yao understood immediately. She didn’t respond. Qin Zishu was an Alpha, and she must be in her susceptibility period. Though the assistant was ostensibly offering a suppressant, it was really a subtle way of hinting that Ji Yao should step in and help her endure it.

Ji Yao had zero interest in indulging Qin Zishu. If she wasn’t worried about going OOC, the first thing she would do would be to grab this brat by the ear and ask, You’re in your susceptibility period and you don’t take care of yourself? You still come to this crowded event? Why are you so careless with your own body?

It was the same kind of behavior as “hates the cold but refuses to wear thermal pants.”

So, Ji Yao sat silently, watching to see how far Qin Zishu would take her act.

“It’s fine, I can endure it.” Qin Zishu frowned and pushed the suppressant away, exhausted. “Home is fine—I don’t like hospitals.”

She wasn’t enduring at all—clearly, she was performing. At the peak of susceptibility, no one could come to a crowded place like this. As a notorious Alpha, she had to be here looking for her “canary.”

Ji Yao couldn’t help smirking. If Qin Zishu had that level of acting on screen, she wouldn’t have earned such criticism from viewers.

After a while, the performance finally paused. Ji Yao turned to look at her.

Qin Zishu still had the same sharp, narrow single eyelids from childhood. Her eye shape was sleek and expressive; her straight nose sharp and defined. Every feature was striking and cold—utterly devoid of warmth.

Her thin, cool eyes always looked indifferent. Ji Yao couldn’t tell if she truly didn’t care or if her eyes were just naturally half-lidded. She only knew that Qin Zishu hadn’t been happy in recent years; she seemed to live under a black-and-white filter, leaving the color drained from the world around her.

“How, how did you,”

Ji Yao wanted to ask how she had made herself live such a miserable life all these years. But she realized her current position didn’t allow for such questions, so she changed course, asking in line with her public persona: “Qin-jie, someone as beautiful and poised as you—how do you maintain it?”

Qin Zishu tilted her head and said in a world-weary tone, “Maintain anxiety and depression all day, stay up for several nights in a row, skip meals here and there. Do that long enough, and you’ll end up like me.”

Ji Yao: “….”

The little brat had grown up and her ability to annoy had only increased. Ji Yao felt her blood pressure rising and decided not to engage further.

Back at home, Qin Zishu led Ji Yao into the study.

She tossed her coat to the assistant and retrieved a “contract” from a folder.

“Xu Xiyan, take the door.” Qin Zishu dismissed the assistant and beckoned Ji Yao over.

Ji Yao opened the file.

“This is our ‘arrangement’ agreement, valid for one year. I’ve listed all the benefits I’ll provide—you can request any additions now.” Qin Zishu leaned back with her eyes closed, appearing indifferent. “During this year, you’ll accompany me through my susceptibility periods without being photographed by the media, not wake me too early in the mornings, avoid interfering with my private habits, be available when called, and the bedroom door must remain unlocked after ten at night and try not to bother me.”

Ji Yao’s fingers tightened around the paper. It seemed to tremble in her hands.

Ten years. A fourteen-year-old girl had grown into a twenty-four-year-old adult. Ji Yao had no idea what had happened over the decade that left Qin Zishu like this.

The little girl had always been difficult, but never this corrupted. Ji Yao would never have guessed that the girl she raised would turn out this way.

Anger, disappointment, sorrow, frustration—all tangled together. Ji Yao pressed her palm to her forehead.

She exhaled deeply and forced herself to look at the agreement. Every word was familiar, yet strung together, it felt incomprehensible.

“What does it mean by ‘the Beta is obligated to satisfy all physiological needs of the Alpha during susceptibility, and the Alpha isn’t responsible for the Beta’s safety’?”

Basically, she was just a tool for Qin Zishu to vent her desires—and judging by the document, Qin Zishu liked to push things to the extreme.

Ji Yao trembled with anger but forced herself to keep reading.

The further she read, the colder her hands felt, and her heart seemed to chill.

It was absurd, inhuman!

Even worse, by reputation, this contract was far from unique. Before her, countless others had probably been subjected to this torment.

“Why a full year?”

Ji Yao recalled media reports claiming that Qin Zishu’s “canaries” were never kept for more than a month. Why did her contract last a whole year?

“Oh, that.” Qin Zishu propped her chin on her hand, a faint smile in her eyes. “Changing people every month is a hassle. Didn’t you notice I added plenty of long-term constraints in the document?”

Ji Yao was livid.

She glared and, without another word, tore the contract into pieces intending to toss them in Qin Zishu’s face.

To hell with this!

Qin Zishu, you scummy Alpha!

Suddenly, the system intervened: “Mission #2: Agree to the other party’s request, or die. Mission duration: ten minutes.”

Ji Yao froze: “….”

Qin Zishu noticed her pause and smiled slightly. “What’s wrong? Regret it? Go ahead, keep tearing.”

“Why is this Mission #2? Are there more missions later? Just agreeing to their ‘request’ is enough?” Ji Yao cautiously asked the system. “Are all missions mandatory?”

System: “Missions are randomly generated; there will be more. Some affect the main story, others less so. Failing minor missions results in lighter penalties.”

Main story?

Ji Yao realized her rebirth might be heaven’s way of letting her punish Qin Zishu for her misdeeds.

So, these missions were linked to the main plot.

After calming herself, Ji Yao forced a smile. “Not regret, just think the time frame is too short. A year isn’t enough.”

“But if you don’t perform well and try to stall me, what then?” Qin Zishu said seriously. “I can’t trust you outright.”

Ji Yao picked up a piece of torn paper. “Clause 13: During susceptibility, the Beta is obligated to satisfy all physiological needs of the Alpha, and the Alpha isn’t responsible for the Beta’s safety. I haven’t objected, which shows I still trust you. I can accept such terms. Why worry about me stalling? I’m just an ordinary person—I won’t make waves. If one day you tire of me, you can leave me easily. I don’t cling.”

Qin Zishu listened intently, raising an eyebrow at clause thirteen. When Ji Yao finished, she finally said, “Fine. You’ve somewhat convinced me.”