The Scummy Alpha Transmigrated into a Tragedy Novel and Went Viral! - Chapter 36

All the scores were clearly displayed on the board: Bai Weilan had 18 points, Xiao Chengyi 17, Jiang Yiyu 14, Wang Zicheng 15, Huang Yili 10, Liu Ke 25, Zhao Yimai 12, and Jiao Yanting 10. At the very bottom was Cheng Jingling with only 5 points, while Ji Yufu had 10.

Cheng Jingling let out a sorrowful sigh, and next to her, Ji Yufu’s eyes dimmed instantly. Everyone knew perfectly well why things turned out this way. But what no one expected was that Liu Ke would take first place by a landslide—proof of just how powerful the “nostalgia filter” could be.

Cai Keke invited Liu Ke onstage to say a few words. He looked completely flattered and overwhelmed as he bowed politely, thanking everyone for their support. As a reward, the host presented him with a brand-new set of hand-stitched traditional clothing. The top three scorers all received prizes as well—the second and third place contestants each received a handmade woven rug and a shoulder bag. The gifts were both meaningful and long-lasting.

But where there are winners, there are losers. The top three got rewards, while the bottom three had to face penalties. “Scummy A” Cheng Jingling ranked last, and Ji Yufu, Huang Yili, and Jiao Yanting tied for second-to-last. Their punishment was to perform for all the tourists.

Performing wasn’t a big deal in itself, but Cheng Jingling had absolutely no talent to show off, which made her panic.

“What are you going to perform?” she asked Ji Yufu for help.

“Dance.”

Cheng Jingling: “……”

So high-difficulty right from the start?

While she was still struggling, Huang Yili had already chosen her music. She was originally from a girl group, and the song she picked was one of her group’s signature tracks—perfect for selling another wave of nostalgia. Jiao Yanting, a singer by profession, could easily perform two of her hit songs. Ji Yufu began scrolling through dance videos. Only Cheng Jingling had nothing, and the more she thought about it, the more anxious she became. She grabbed her phone to look for inspiration.

The first to go onstage was Jiao Yanting. Holding the microphone provided by the crew, she performed her two hits, “Heartless” and “Asking Love.” Though the ranch’s sound system wasn’t ideal, her vocals were impressive enough to give the tourists quite a treat. After her performance, she thanked the audience and stepped offstage.

Next was Huang Yili. She opened with a full backflip, stunning both the audience and her fellow castmates. Cheng Jingling silently screamed for help inside—did Huang Yili not care about anyone else’s survival?

Huang Yili then launched into “DON’T BREAK MY HEART,” dancing with the same precision and power she’d had more than a decade ago. The crowd went wild, and Cheng Jingling’s scalp tingled from second-hand pressure.

The third performer was Ji Yufu. She chose a modern dance routine—every movement graceful yet full of strength, her sleeves swirling like clouds. She looked like a fairy descended to earth. Cheng Jingling stared, mesmerized, wondering if there was anything Ji Yufu couldn’t do.

When the music ended, Cheng Jingling snapped out of her daze. Ji Yufu stepped down from the stage, passing by her and whispering a soft, “Good luck.” The faint fragrance that trailed with her made Cheng Jingling’s limbs turn weak—as if her soul was about to be enchanted away.

Bracing herself, Cheng Jingling walked to the center of the field. With everyone staring at her, she felt unbearably nervous.

“I don’t have any special skills,” she admitted, “so I’ll do a little ‘Money-Grabbing Dance’ for everyone. Wishing you all great fortune!”

Cai Keke cooperatively played the BGM:

“Money come, money come, money flows in from every direction pouring in endlessly every hour, every moment. I love money and money loves me.”

Cheng Jingling wiggled along to the rhythm, waving her hands wildly to “grab” money from the sky, the ground, and the air before stuffing it all into imaginary pockets. The scene was ridiculous. Plus, she really couldn’t dance—her limbs moved like they’d been newly installed, and even a simple routine turned into frantic chaos. She radiated pure “desperate for small money” energy, which sent everyone into fits of laughter. Ji Yufu covered her face in embarrassment, but the corners of her mouth still lifted uncontrollably. This person truly had zero idol baggage.

Slowly, Cheng Jingling got more comfortable, no longer as panicked as at the start. She shimmied her way toward her colleagues and forcibly dragged them up to interact. Everyone turned red with embarrassment, barely wiggling twice before sitting back down. Only Huang Yili confidently danced an entire run with her. Bai Weilan frantically waved her hands in refusal. Xiao Chengyi cooperated for a few steps, but his movements were even more uncoordinated than hers, adding another wave of laughter.

Once Cheng Jingling got hyped, she even tried pulling Ji Yufu into the dance. Seeing Cheng Jingling wiggle her way over, Ji Yufu immediately collapsed onto the table, hands pressed together in a “please spare me” gesture, then grabbed her coat and covered her head like an ostrich burying itself in the sand. The surrender was so dramatic it made Cheng Jingling laugh. She decided not to tease her further and instead called out to the tourists:

“Come on, everyone, let’s grab money together! The more you grab, the richer you get!”

The tourists doubled over laughing but stood up and followed along enthusiastically. After another full loop of the catchy song, the crowd burst into cheers. Breathless, Cheng Jingling returned to her seat. Beside her, the “ostrich” still refused to lift her head. Cheng Jingling poked her gently.

“It’s over. You can come out now.”

Ji Yufu remained motionless. Cheng Jingling carefully lifted the coat, revealing Ji Yufu sitting upright but refusing to look her in the eyes. Her toes were metaphorically digging up three acres of grassland. Her face was bright red, her shy, darting gaze like that of a tiny social-anxiety kitten. Cheng Jingling nearly screamed internally—too cute!

“Why are you so shy?” Overwhelmed by the cuteness, Cheng Jingling cupped her face. Ji Yufu’s soft cheeks were squished into a little puffball, like an indignant pufferfish. Even her earlobes were a rosy red, like tiny rubies.

“I’m not like you,” Ji Yufu murmured, “a social menace.”

“Social what?” Cheng Jingling blinked.

“A social terrorist,” Ji Yufu clarified with a rare touch of humor, though her face remained perfectly serious as she wriggled out of Cheng Jingling’s hands.

Her awkwardness only made her more adorable. Cheng Jingling picked up a piece of fruit and tried to feed her. Ji Yufu dodged left and right, but still failed to escape the inevitable fate of being fed.

The bonfire party had already been going on for two hours. The final activity was for everyone to hold hands and dance in a circle around the flames. Local herders played instruments and sang, and the guests spontaneously left their

seats to join the ring of dancers. Cheng Jingling linked her left arm with Ji Yufu and her right arm with Sang Zhuo. She had only just learned that Sang Zhuo was Mr. Aji’s daughter—the future owner of this very pasture—and couldn’t help but feel a newfound admiration for her.

As the simple circle dance went on, the ring gradually broke apart, and people began pairing off. With the music’s rhythm, partners switched freely. Cheng Jingling started out dancing with Ji Yufu, but somehow, at some point in the shuffle, a tourist hooked her away. It was a young woman—someone Cheng Jingling vaguely remembered as being part of that “little rich lady’s” group. She immediately turned to check on Ji Yufu. As expected, Ji Yufu had been paired off with said “little rich lady.”

Cheng Jingling tried to pull her hand free and go back to find Ji Yufu, but her temporary partner suddenly tightened her grip and began dancing against her like she was a pole—pressing in close and grinding to the beat. Startled, Cheng Jingling stumbled back three steps, muttering, “Back, back, back!”

Meanwhile, the “little rich lady” had an arm hooked around Ji Yufu’s.

“Do you know who I am?”

Ji Yufu met her eyes. “No. But I’m pretty sure I haven’t guessed wrong.”

The woman let out a bitter laugh. “You guessed right. I’m here to apologize for what happened today.”

Ji Yufu was genuinely surprised—she hadn’t expected an apology at all. “The ignorant are not to blame.”

“Honestly, before today, I really didn’t understand why you liked her. But now, I think I get it. Still, you’re not like me. You wouldn’t fall for something that shallow, would you?”

Ji Yufu gave her a small, gentle smile, finding her unexpectedly kind. “Desire is human nature. Shallow attraction is only normal. But letting you all find out in that way I am sorry about that.”

The little rich lady: “……”

The little rich lady silently thought: You don’t have to be so honest. If you’d just said no, I could at least keep lying to myself.

“Are you happy with her?”

Ji Yufu looked away, toward the bonfire blazing in the distance. Even from far off, she could feel the radiant heat warming her skin—like Cheng Jingling herself. Once she got close, Cheng Jingling’s warmth and light inevitably spilled onto her too.

“Happy,” she answered. Happier than before, at least by a little.

The little rich lady lifted a bitter smile. “Then I hope your choice is never the wrong one.” She let go of Ji Yufu’s arm and slowly backed into the dark, disappearing from the party. No one noticed—everyone was too busy screaming and cheering at the girl grinding against Cheng Jingling. Ji Yufu followed the noise and saw Cheng Jingling torn between escaping and trying desperately to hide the upward curl of her lips. Ji Yufu quietly returned to her seat.

Out of breath from dancing, Sang Zhuo came over to ask Ji Yufu for a signature and a photo. She had never dreamed that Ji Yufu would come back to her homeland to film a variety show. The night Sang Zhuo heard the news, she was so excited she couldn’t sleep. Even though the annoying Cheng Jingling had come too, after observing them both, she realized that they were actually easy to get along with—and that Cheng Jingling treated Ji Yufu very well. Her once-faded

fangirl heart suddenly flared to life again, and she forgot completely that she had ever “un-stanned.” Ji Yufu, with her gentle temperament, fulfilled every request one by one.

Cheng Jingling’s overly enthusiastic dance partner, seeing that her friend had already left, finally lost interest and let go of her, heading back to her yurt. Cheng Jingling returned to Ji Yufu’s side, drenched in sweat from dealing with that passionate stranger.

“What did she say to you?”

Ji Yufu glanced at her. Cheng Jingling’s clothes and hair were a complete mess—she looked like she had just stumbled back after sneaking around outside. Without meaning to, Ji Yufu’s tone dropped eight degrees in temperature.

“You’re not dancing anymore?”

“No, I’m done.”

Sang Zhuo was startled by the icy tone. She glanced between them, unsure whether she should stay or flee.

“You’re not happy?” Cheng Jingling asked, seeing Ji Yufu’s blank expression and assuming she was still upset about the money-grab dance.

“No.”

“Oh.” Cheng Jingling scratched her head, innocent and confused.

Sang Zhuo silently: Does that look like “no”? Who would be happy seeing their girlfriend grinding with someone else?

“Did you enjoy the dance?” Ji Yufu asked coolly—just trying to check on her partner’s mood.

“It was pretty fun. Do you want to dance?”

Sang Zhuo: She’s jealous! How do you not see that?

“No need. Go dance. Have fun.”

“Then, maybe I shouldn’t go after all.”

Sang Zhuo: Ji Yufu’s mouth is the hardest substance in nature.

Irritated and overwhelmed by the noise, Ji Yufu simply stood up and headed back to their yurt. Cheng Jingling followed immediately. Sang Zhuo watched the bickering couple walk off and sighed helplessly.

“Tsk, tsk, what a tragedy. Those 12 ex-girlfriends were all for nothing—she still doesn’t understand an Omega’s heart at all!”