Transmigrated as the Cannon Fodder Boss of the Disabled Heroine - Chapter 41

Some bold viewers in the livestream chat spoke up:

[Can the host use their mouth for the final lipstick application?]

[I won’t believe this lipstick is good unless you two kiss to prove it.]

[My partner said if you two kiss, she’ll buy a pair for me on Valentine’s Day.]

[To the person above, I suspect you’re secretly flexing while pretending to ship them.]

The barrage of comments flashed by too quickly for Pei Yujiang to read them all, but she caught the gist.

In the past, Pei Yujiang might have found these netizens’ preferences strange, how could strangers behind screens randomly demand that she and Yu Zhiwan kiss?

But just the night before, on Christmas Eve, she had encountered similar people. Maybe people nowadays just loved watching others be affectionate?

Gazing at the woman’s fair cheeks, Pei Yujiang noticed that Yu Zhiwan’s makeup was nearly complete, except for her lips, which were still too pale. Against the rest of the makeup, it made Pei Yujiang want to fill in that missing color herself.

She recalled the soft, indescribable sensation of those lips touching hers.

The Omega’s scent lingered in her mind like a frozen moment, revisited often sometimes in dreams, sometimes suddenly surfacing in her thoughts. Just the memory alone was enough to fill her heart completely.

That cool rose fragrance, like a crafted perfume, blended with the sweetness of raspberries, creating an intoxicating aroma that had once overwhelmed her senses. Even now, though she wasn’t close to Yu Zhiwan, Pei Yujiang’s ears warmed as if the pheromones still lingered on her tongue.

She hadn’t expected that, even though she was no longer an Alpha, she could still detect pheromones. But now, they no longer affected her they were just like a favorite perfume.

Yu Zhiwan’s pheromones captivated her more than any perfume ever had.

The realization made her hand tremble slightly.

The livestream chat continued to urge her on. Realizing she had zoned out for too long, Pei Yujiang took a deep breath and focused on applying Yu Zhiwan’s lipstick.

At least her hands were steady enough now that the lines weren’t crooked, though she still struggled with pressure control. The brick-red lipstick was highly pigmented and perfectly complemented the makeup. Yu Zhiwan rarely wore such bold colors, but it suited her beautifully.

When she accidentally went slightly outside the lip line, Pei Yujiang gently dabbed it away with her fingertip. As her finger traced the Omega’s soft lips, a tingling current seemed to spread through her palm.

Yu Zhiwan, however, seemed unfazed by the small contact. With her hands folded on her lap, she waited until Pei Yujiang exhaled in relief, signaling the makeup was done, before asking:

“Finished? What do the viewers think?”

The audience was practically howling.

[Are these two seriously not dating?]

[I get it now, Zhiwan speaks very little, but every word hits the mark. That’s what you call ‘every syllable a gem.’]

[Wait a minute, caviar, fish roe, Zhiwan, squid balls, fish paste squid balls, Zhiwan never mentioned her name before, and Yue Rong’s beauty model didn’t introduce herself either. Plus, Zhiwan said she wasn’t familiar with previous livestreamers. What kind of roleplay are you two doing? Am I part of your game too? (dog head emoji)]

[The more I think about it, the creepier it gets. Isn’t Yujiang technically Zhiwan’s boss? My boss would never gently help me with makeup.]

[If my boss didn’t psychologically manipulate me into working overtime, that’d be a miracle. She’d never invite me to livestream at her place.]

[Damn, just woke up from a nap. Who’s livestreaming at whose house? Isn’t this the company?]

[You must still be half-asleep. What company looks like this? Clearly it’s someone’s home.]

Pei Yujiang didn’t deliberately hide her home environment during the livestream. While viewers found little interest in watching her apply makeup, they instead focused on all sorts of strange details.

Eventually, they concluded that the two were indeed doing makeup at home. Though they didn’t know whose home it was, spending holidays together while livestreaming, isn’t that practically the same as dating?

Excited netizens continued joking in the chat. After finishing her makeup, Pei Yujiang had intended to promote some products to boost engagement, only to find the conversation had derailed into discussing their ship name and even debating who’s the top and who’s the bottom.

[Isn’t it obvious? Zhiwan is clearly an Omega, and I remember her saying so herself.]

[Who says Omegas can’t be tops! Who says gentle, beautiful sisters can’t be tops! I’m voting for Omega top today!]

Pei Yujiang: “…”

After scrolling through the chat, she couldn’t find a single appropriate comment to address most were pure nonsense. Some remarks were so explicit that even someone who rarely browsed the internet could recognize them. Reading those out loud would likely get the livestream banned.

Pei Yujiang now suspected her stream was already flagged by moderators. If she made any more questionable moves, or if the chat continued its “not suitable for children” trend, her beauty livestream might end its trial run in disgrace.

Whether she could stream again would be uncertain, and the embarrassment would be unbearable. She came to do a makeup tutorial, only to get banned for being too “spicy”? She’d never be able to face her coworkers again.

“If no one has anything else to say, I’ll end the stream now. I’m leaving in ten seconds?”

Flustered, Pei Yujiang completely forgot about promoting products. These bizarre comments were giving her a headache.

After a brief moment of normalcy, the chat erupted with discussions about whether she was getting shy.

Unable to take it anymore, Pei Yujiang finally ended the livestream.

But this was her first time streaming on this platform, and she wasn’t familiar with its various functions. She simply turned it off without realizing the platform automatically saved stream replays.

Deletions had to be done immediately after 24 hours, it would be permanent. In her haste to leave, Pei Yujiang didn’t think that far ahead. By the time she realized, it was already too late.

However, this turned out to be an accidental yet successful product promotion. Although the audience didn’t find Pei Yujiang’s makeup particularly impressive, the foundation she initially applied blended evenly without needing to be mixed with other products, a blessing for those with dull complexions.

Moreover, the base makeup fused seamlessly without requiring multiple layers.

The eyeshadow palette was a new release from Yuerong, and not many had purchased it yet. Some bloggers, after watching the livestream, immediately placed orders in excitement, eager to see what effects they could create. To their surprise, upon receiving it, they found it to be a hidden gem far more user-friendly than expected. It just goes to show that the same makeup product can perform differently in everyone’s hands.

Though Yu Zhiwan’s makeup skills were decent, being visually impaired, she had never seen the eyeshadow palette before and could only rely on Pei Yujiang’s descriptions to create an eye look. The result was passable at best, far from the stunning effects achieved by the bloggers.

Yet, even with such casual application, her face remained undeniably photogenic. Yu Zhiwan had delicate features, a slender but proportionate neck, and flawless facial symmetry, there was simply nothing to criticize.

Unfortunately, Yu Zhiwan didn’t have a personal blog. After this livestream, Pei Yujiang’s public account gained a significant number of followers, with nearly half of the new comments requesting more content featuring Yu Zhiwan.

Pei Yujiang had asked Yu Zhiwan if she wanted to open a public account. Though it would be a bit cumbersome to manage, Pei Yujiang felt genuinely happy about the warm reception. However, Yu Zhiwan declined without hesitation.

“I’m not that into socializing,” she replied firmly, leaving no room for polite refusal. Pei Yujiang simply nodded and never brought it up again.

On Wednesday, Yu Zhiwan had a rehabilitation therapy session scheduled with a doctor. After dropping her off at the hospital, Pei Yujiang learned that the treatment would require a few days of hospitalization in a specialized rehabilitation room with professional care.

Since this was a well-equipped public hospital with excellent security and staff service, Pei Yujiang saw no need to stay. After bidding Yu Zhiwan farewell, she decided to take the opportunity to visit the welfare home and water plant.

Typically, children’s welfare homes, nursing homes, and disability care centers are separate, but this one was an unusual combination. Upon entering, one could see children playing on recreational equipment, elderly people being wheeled around the garden by caregivers, and individuals with paralyzed legs.

It was said that this welfare home originally consisted of three separate institutions located relatively close to each other. Over time, as funding dwindled and social aid proved insufficient to maintain their previous standards, let alone basic living conditions they had no choice but to merge.

The greenery here was decent, but the facilities were visibly aged and unmaintained. A broken swing, made from a wheel, lay on the ground, overgrown with weeds, now repurposed by the children as play material.

The reality of orphanages often differs from people’s imaginations. The quality of life largely depends on the director and caregivers, some might withhold meals or resort to scolding and abuse. But at least in the areas Pei Yujiang passed through, she saw no signs of such mistreatment.

Many children raised in orphanages tend to develop certain issues.

Due to years of lacking companionship with teachers and caregivers stretched too thin to provide more than basic physical care these children often grow up shy and withdrawn. Like that mischievous little boy she’d seen last time, whose antics might have just been a cry for attention.

Such children indeed exist in this world. Pei Yujiang had picked up a few during the apocalypse, but she’d always handed them over to professional institutions. She simply didn’t have the patience, time, or energy to raise a child.

Pei Yujiang ventured further inside.

The place was in disarray overgrown weeds choked the bushes, and rusted wire fences tangled with wild vines.

Beneath a crumbling flower bed sat a blind old man. She recalled spotting weathered nameplates at the entrance, one bearing this very man’s name. He was a veteran who’d lost his eyesight in war, yet somehow ended up in this dismal nursing home.

Seizing the moment, Pei Yujiang approached and greeted him softly. At first, he didn’t hear. When he finally opened his mouth to respond, a fit of violent coughing overtook him.

She nearly stepped forward to pat his back but hesitated. Unfamiliar with this place, she decided caution was wiser and remained where she stood.

Only after his coughing subsided did she move closer.

“How long has the water plant been operating?” The old man squinted uselessly, identifying her as a young woman by voice alone. “You here for a job?”

Pei Yujiang had prepared other excuses, but this seemed as good as any. She chuckled lightly.

“Yes, grandpa. I just moved to the city, and my college major didn’t pan out. Jobs are scarce. I heard Fuxin Water Plant provides meals and lodging, with two shifts that aren’t too exhausting…”

“Why would a young girl work at a water plant?” The old man waved dismissively. “Fuxin’s gone downhill filthy and reeking. They used to process mineral water, but after the ownership changed, they switched to wastewater treatment. Disgusting place.”

“Fuxin’s been around twenty-some years. The new owner took over a few years back and drove half the workers out. Xiangcheng’s all about the rich getting richer and the poor poorer these days. And it’s not safe for a girl like you that factory’s full of shady characters.”

He gestured vaguely toward the east.

“Head out the west gate, walk a hundred meters, and you’ll see the rundown factory, way out from downtown. If they promise big money? Pure scam. Pyramid schemes everywhere now, authorities can’t even shut ’em down…”

The old man, clearly starved for conversation, rambled on about his children working far away, how unlivable Xiangcheng had become, and how his previous nursing home had been decent before this place deteriorated.

Pei Yujiang chimed in with a few words, but her mind was wandering elsewhere. The old man soon realized she wasn’t interested in his stories and fell silent, making Pei feel somewhat guilty. She pushed his wheelchair for a while before escorting him to the cafeteria.

She had arrived just before mealtime. The elderly and children ate separately, with the seniors having lunch at 11 a.m. since they couldn’t tolerate hunger. After dropping him off, Pei hurried in the direction the old man had indicated.

A three-meter-high wire fence separated the water plant from the welfare institute. Years of neglect had left it damaged in places, overgrown with vines and weeds. Though tall, the lack of electrification made it no obstacle for Pei, who climbed up to get a clear view of the water plant.

Just as the old man had said, it had been converted into a waste treatment facility.

Pei had never visited water treatment plants before, but she doubted any could be as deplorable as this sewage flowing everywhere, the stench assaulting her nostrils long before she got close enough to see the filth. The reek alone was enough to deter anyone.

Had she genuinely been a job-seeking young woman, the sight alone would have killed any desire to enter. Though not particularly fastidious and relatively tolerant of squalor, Pei still had to cover her nose.

The stench was overwhelming.

Yet if the old man hadn’t lied, this deterioration began only after the change in management which made the situation highly suspicious.

The foul odor was unbearable, but Pei decided against using the main entrance. Instead, she scaled the fence, landing near a clump of mud and debris in the grass where maggots writhed in putrid white masses.

Rather than moving on immediately, Pei first scanned her surroundings. Confirming she was alone, she pinched her nose and prodded the mess with a stick.

After flicking away a squirming maggot, she carefully inspected further, using the stick to uncover a piece of rotting flesh beneath the sludge.

Pei’s expression darkened.

Years of military experience had honed her ability to identify meat especially after countless encounters with zombie creatures. She could tell at a glance this flesh was abnormal.

Disregarding the filth, she bent down, pulled out a prepared plastic bag from her pocket, and swiftly scooped up the rotten meat. As she sealed it, footsteps approached, prompting her to duck into hiding.

Peering cautiously, she spotted two employees walking toward the area, their faces twisted in disgust.

“Fucking hell, making us dump this shit every day,” the taller, thinner one cursed. “I swear I’ll quit and report these bastards someday!”

“Tch, keep it down,” his capped companion replied. “Gives me the creeps. What’s the point of feeding dogs this meat anyway? Unless they’re training them for fights those mutts are vicious! Last time I took a piss in the bushes, one got loose. It killed a bird but didn’t eat it, just gutted the thing with its paws. Those beady eyes,  thank god I’d already finished pissing…”

After dumping their load, the pair hurried away without lingering.

After Pei Yujiang waited for them to leave, she emerged and saw that the garbage they had dumped was no different from the piece of meat she had obtained earlier. Only then did she return to the welfare home, lingering nearby for a while to ensure nothing unusual had happened before pretending to stroll around inside and then leaving.

She had entered the welfare home under the guise of a visitor, as the facility was open to the public for tours though few people ever came to visit. Being a visitor was different from being a volunteer; volunteers had to help with tasks, leaving no time for free movement.

As Pei Yujiang was leaving, she spotted the same volunteer who had taken the elderly and children out for a stroll on Christmas Eve. She offered a friendly smile, but the volunteer merely glanced at her before hurrying away.

That night, after returning home, Pei Yujiang examined the rotten meat but couldn’t make sense of it yet. She stored it in a sealed bag and bought a small fridge to keep it in.

Most people would probably have nightmares just looking at it, but Pei Yujiang’s professional habits made her immune. Still, keeping it in her bedroom felt unsettling, so she placed it on the balcony where it wouldn’t draw attention.

During the days Yu Zhiwan was hospitalized, Pei Yujiang went live twice. The first time was right after she got home and stored the rotten meat, she only streamed for half an hour. The second time was the next day, when she simply chatted with her audience.

This time, she felt much more at ease, with none of the previous awkwardness. She was in the middle of telling a ghost story when a notification from Talk suddenly popped up.

Normally, Pei Yujiang would swipe past notifications without a second thought. But this time, her hand froze mid-motion when she saw Yu Zhiwan’s name.

Yu Zhiwan always sent voice messages because typing was inconvenient for her. Pei Yujiang had her audio on, and playing the message aloud for the audience felt inappropriate. Yet, sneaking off to take the call would seem even stranger.

Torn over what to do, Pei Yujiang hesitated. The viewers, engrossed in her story, hadn’t noticed her distraction and were eagerly waiting to hear what happened next.

She decided to use voice-to-text first to see what Yu Zhiwan wanted. If it wasn’t urgent, she’d finish the story for her audience.

The story wasn’t actually a real ghost story but rather a “supernatural incident” Pei Yujiang had encountered during a military march in her past life. It turned out to be a misunderstanding and had since become a running joke. The tale was humorous with a strong twist, and Pei Yujiang’s vivid narration made it feel immersive. Her stream remained at the top of the beauty category, even surpassing the popularity of a certain heavily promoted streamer.

Every second she delayed, the chat exploded with messages.

[Fish Sauce, are you for real? You’re leaving us hanging like this?]

[Hurry up! I’ll unfollow if you keep dragging this out.]

[Came here for the beauty stream, but now I’m hooked on a ghost story?]

[Don’t leave us hanging! Finish the story first!]

Pei Yujiang had intended to finish the story, leaving a cliffhanger wasn’t a habit she approved of. As a reader herself, she hated authors who left stories unfinished or went on long hiatuses, especially since she loved suspense novels, which thrived on keeping readers on edge.

But the woman on the screen offered an apologetic smile. Without even waiting for her usual ten-second farewell routine, she left only a fleeting wave before shutting down her computer.

Then she grabbed her bag and car keys and rushed out the door.

Night had fallen over Xiangcheng, with the lingering festive atmosphere of Christmas still in the air. Everywhere remained adorned with lanterns and decorations, even the residential complexes displayed bare Christmas trees at their entrances, greeting the constant flow of passersby.

Pei Yujiang drove at the maximum speed limit for the road. The car windows were rolled up, the in-car diffuser remained off, yet a chilly wind still managed to seep in, lifting her long, raven-black hair. When she stopped at a traffic light, the woman casually brushed the strands aside with her slender fingers. As she glanced down to check her messages, a relaxed smile softened her striking features.

Yu Zhiwan hadn’t sent her any other messages.

Her voice note contained only three sentences, instantly transcribable into text.

The three messages from Yu Zhiwan read:

[“Are you free?”]

[“Come pick me up.”]

[“I miss you.”]

In just three short sentences, her mood soared with excitement. She abandoned her live stream audience of over a hundred thousand and rushed straight to the hospital through the quiet night of Xiangcheng. The flashing red lights mirrored her racing heart, and when she saw the green light turn on, Pei Yuqiao happily hummed “Merry Christmas.”

The audience was indeed part of the play (wink)

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