Transmigrated as the Scumbag Alpha of a Cold Movie Queen - Chapter 40

Qi Siyu’s heart was pounding faster and faster—thump-thump, thump-thump—like it might leap out of her throat at any moment.

What did Gu Qing mean by repeating that line right now?

Her tone was eerily calm, devoid of emotion, yet it stirred wave after wave of ripples in Qi Siyu’s chest.

During her susceptibility phase, she had acted purely on instinct. It was true—she really had hoped that Gu Qing’s cold, ash-gray eyes might one day spark with color, glowing with the warmth and chaos of everyday life.

But the way Gu Qing brought it up now… it felt loaded. Was she trying to remind her of what she’d said yesterday?

Impossible. No way. Gu Qing wanted nothing more than to get away from Qi Siyu, to leave the company behind too.

Maybe she had just mentioned it casually—but Gu Qing never wasted words. She wasn’t the type to say anything meaningless.

Qi Siyu’s mind was on the verge of short-circuiting.

“What are you standing there for?” Gu Qing had already reached the suite entrance. She turned back to find Qi Siyu frozen in place.

“Coming, coming!” Qi Siyu quickly caught up with long strides.

The filming of this episode was set to wrap up that evening. Dinner would be provided by the production team—a group meal to mark the end and complete the final daily tally.

Dinner was scheduled for six o’clock. The food was already laid out, but only Lu Hui sat awkwardly at the far end of the long dining table.

Qi Siyu paused for a split second when she saw her, then decisively changed course—gently nudging Gu Qing to sit at the seat farthest from Lu Hui, at a diagonal.

She remembered clearly—during yesterday’s popularity ranking vote, Gu Qing had actually chosen Lu Hui.

When had Gu Qing even gotten to know Lu Hui? Just thinking about it made Qi Siyu’s teeth itch with frustration.

Gu Qing: …

Gu Qing noticed Qi Siyu’s subtle hesitation, but had no idea what was going through her head. She certainly didn’t know Qi Siyu had deliberately moved her to avoid Lu Hui.

To Gu Qing, she disliked all the cast members equally. The only reason she’d voted for Lu Hui was because Lu Hui had a traditional craft skill. That vote was cast in favor of heritage, not the person.

Who would’ve guessed Qi Siyu was this petty?

The susceptibility period had been brief, and only revealed a small sliver of vulnerability. Besides, Gu Qing assumed those traits were just part of the condition.

Lu Hui, seeing that Gu Qing and Qi Siyu had chosen the seats farthest from her, felt a wave of relief thanks to her social anxiety. But then she remembered her real purpose for joining the show—and suddenly her chair felt like it had grown spikes.

She should be sitting next to Gu Qing, soaking up that precious screen time.

Time ticked by as Lu Hui wrestled with herself. Just as she finally decided to move to the seat opposite Gu Qing, Sun Yingying and Bai Ming’an returned, one after the other.

Sun Yingying immediately noticed the seating arrangement, hurried over, and plopped down right next to Qi Siyu.

Bai Ming’an, a step slower, took the seat directly across from Gu Qing.

Now if Lu Hui moved over, it would be super awkward—and there weren’t any good seats left anyway. She reluctantly convinced herself to stay put.

At 5:55 p.m., all the guests had returned.

There were twelve seats at the long table, with five on each side and one at each end.

To Lu Hui’s right were Kou Huaiping and Jia Junjie, followed by Yu Shanmei and Bai Ming’an.

Bai Ming’an sat opposite Gu Qing. To Gu Qing’s left, in order, were Qi Siyu, Sun Yingying, Yan Xuan, and Bai Ziyun.

The host sat at the head of the table, closer to Gu Qing, presiding over the dinner.

Despite the enticing aroma and presentation of the food, none of the guests made a move—except Qi Siyu and Gu Qing, who were calmly eating. Everyone else waited for the host to speak.

“The past three days really flew by, didn’t they?” the host said, nodding sentimentally. “The production team has seen all your efforts, and we’ve specially prepared this dinner to thank you.”

“But before we eat, there are a few announcements to make. Once that’s done, you can dig in!”

The host scanned the room, the smile on his face widening as he went on. “The rankings have already been sent to each of your apps. You can check them at your convenience. As for today’s ‘Most Popular

Contestant’ ranking—it won’t be decided by the guests, but by the viewers in the livestream audience.”

“At exactly 9:00 PM tonight, the production team will launch the official Weibo voting poll. So viewers, don’t forget to vote for your favorite contestant!”

Bai Ming’an: …

Today, she had just secured support from Kou Huaiping and Bai Ziyun, and even struck a deal with Sun Yingying to guarantee the top spot in the popularity poll—only to find out it would now be determined by viewers?

Seriously? Other than Gu Qing, who else even stood a chance?! Bai Ming’an was so angry she could barely breathe.

“In the next episode, when everyone returns, two elimination candidates will be chosen—based on both the viewer votes and the points accumulated over these three days.”

“The two nominees will need to work extra hard next time. Whoever slacks off will be eliminated.”

“Contestants can also influence their fans’ voting power—for example, by purchasing a ‘Double Vote’ card, allowing each fan’s vote to count twice. There are more fun skills and power-ups waiting to be unlocked!”

“And every night at 9:00 PM, the in-app shop will release new items!”

“Alright, everyone—let’s raise a glass and kick off tonight’s feast!”

The host lifted his wine glass. Everyone else followed suit, and once they set their glasses down, the room erupted in chatter and discussion.

Qi Siyu and Gu Qing, however, focused solely on eating. Sun Yingying, meanwhile, kept sneaking glances at Qi Siyu.

From her expression, gaze, and movements, it was obvious—Qi Siyu’s susceptibility phase had ended.

Sun Yingying grew anxious. Would Qi Siyu stay in the villa for one more night? Just enough time for her to slip in one more dose?

After this, it would be hard to see her again.

Half an hour later, once dinner was mostly over, Qi Siyu used Gu Qing’s “feeling unwell” as an excuse and led her away early.

Sun Yingying immediately stood up to see them off—and slipped in her drugged perfume as planned.

But Qi Siyu moved too fast. Half the drugged vapor missed her completely. Sun Yingying’s heart twinged in pain.

“Miss Gu, Miss Qi—when are you two leaving?” she asked.

“Tonight,” Gu Qing replied. The show had arranged two return flights—one that night and one the next morning. Guests could choose freely.

“Aw, if you leave tonight, you won’t get home until after eleven. Why not rest up and fly out tomorrow?” Qi Siyu said.

Gu Qing shook her head. “I’ve got an appointment early tomorrow. I have to leave tonight.”

“Oh, okay.” Qi Siyu pushed Gu Qing’s wheelchair toward their room. Once inside, she couldn’t hold back anymore. “Who are you meeting tomorrow?”

Gu Qing looked her up and down, gaze finally settling on Qi Siyu’s head. “A doctor. For your checkup.”

“Huh?” Qi Siyu was caught completely off guard.

“You said you don’t remember the last two days,” Gu Qing replied coolly. “You got into a fight and fainted. Might’ve hit your head. Better to get it checked out.”

Qi Siyu’s mouth dropped open. “Wait, I… fought someone?”

She glanced around at herself, trying to hide the panic in her eyes. “But I’m not even hurt. Could it be internal injuries?”

“Mm.” Gu Qing nodded. “Could be.”

Qi Siyu was speechless. “Alright, I’ll pack our things. You say goodbye to your fans. I’ll be quick.”

“Okay.” Gu Qing nodded.

She looked down at her livestream—comments were flooding in:

“CEO Qi really gives off major ‘perfect wife’ vibes.”

“So homey and sweet—she would be the ideal spouse.”

“Gu Qing, take her already! Be Mrs. Qi and ascend to the top!”

Gu Qing pretended not to see any of it.

They’d come with barely any luggage. But now that they were leaving, the pile had grown considerably.

Actually, most of it was from yesterday.

Stuffed animals she couldn’t sleep without, music boxes for dinner ambiance, rubber ducks and little dolphins for bath time…

Qi Siyu’s face twisted in secondhand embarrassment.

Why does the ABO world have to include something like a susceptibility phase?!

She quickly filled one suitcase—then had to ask the crew for two more.

In a corner near the dining table sat a giant stack of cookies.

Qi Siyu took a deep breath, mortified beyond belief.

What on earth possessed me? Why did I insist on red wine and chocolate-flavored cookies?

She wasn’t even sure anymore—was it the cookies she had craved, or Gu Qing’s pheromones?

Back then, Gu Qing had given her plain cookies—and laced them with her own red wine-chocolate-scented pheromones to soothe her.

Ahhh! Utter humiliation! Qi Siyu squatted in front of the cookie mountain, wanting to disappear into the floor.

I don’t remember any of this. I don’t remember! Nothing happened!

She hypnotized herself once more.

“…Why the hell are there so many cookies here anyway?” she muttered.

She turned to look at Gu Qing. “Also, why are there so many new things in the room? I don’t remember any of them.”

Gu Qing’s gaze lingered on Qi Siyu’s cheeks, now flushed like fiery rose petals. Qi Siyu likely had no idea just how red her face was—or how much shame was hidden behind her eyes.

“You bought them. Or had them bought for you,” Gu Qing replied calmly, summing up the origin of all the items in just a few words.

As if none of it had left any impression on her.

“Oh, I see… Sounds like I was quite a handful during my susceptibility phase. You really went through a lot,” Qi Siyu said, trying to sound casual—even though she’d already decided to forget the whole ordeal, she still felt compelled to thank Gu Qing.

Most people would’ve lost their patience if someone started sobbing and demanding red wine and chocolate cookies.

“No need to thank me,” Gu Qing said. “You helped me a lot, too.”

As always—keeping things distant and detached. Qi Siyu pressed down the bitter smile tugging at her lips and replied with her usual composure, “Mm. I’ll get back to packing, then.”

Her hands moved much faster now, and within twenty minutes, she had everything packed up.

At 8:30 PM, Qi Siyu, Gu Qing, and a few members of the production crew boarded the chartered flight.

Among them was the director, Gao Zhonghai.

After takeoff, Gao Zhonghai made his way over to Qi Siyu for a chat. “President Qi, I heard your susceptibility phase has ended.”

Qi Siyu gritted her teeth and forced out a barely audible “Mm.” In her heart, she wanted nothing more than to strangle this bald idiot.

If she had accepted Gu Qing’s suggestion to be sent away, she wouldn’t have ended up humiliating herself in front of the entire internet.

Gao Zhonghai beamed at her and waggled his eyebrows, clearly thinking he’d done her a massive favor.

An Alpha, humiliated—but with a caring wife by her side. Isn’t that a good deal?

Qi Siyu clenched her fists tightly, suppressing the urge to punch him right in the eye just to make his dark circles even bigger. Still smiling, she said, “Yes, it’s over. But I don’t remember a thing from the whole phase—completely blank.”

Gao Zhonghai suddenly felt a chill on his scalp. But his hair was still thick—why did it feel cold?

He looked up at the cabin ceiling. No air vent… weird. He nervously rubbed his head to make sure the hair was still there. Once he confirmed, he relaxed a little.

“What a pity,” he said with exaggerated regret. “Well, President Qi, let’s catch up another time. I’ve got overtime to get back to.”

During contestant downtime, the production team had to manage viewer votes and edit the highlights from the past three days into clips for video platforms.

With nine contestants, each having some kind of viral moment—big or small—they needed to be threaded into coherent storylines, and only Director Gao could make the final calls.

Maybe being bald was just part of the job description for directors.

Meanwhile, Gu Qing quietly observed Qi Siyu. When Qi Siyu finally loosened her clenched fists, the deep crescent-shaped marks from her nails were still clearly visible in her palms.

Clearly, she wasn’t taking her public embarrassment well. Gu Qing couldn’t help feeling mildly pleased.

Sometimes, joy really does come from someone else’s misery.

Gao Zhonghai’s “comforting” words were just the beginning.

As soon as they landed, Qi Siyu turned on her phone—off for three whole days—and saw a glaring red dot on her WeChat: “99+” unread messages.

Before joining the show, many of the original Qi Siyu’s friends and family had already messaged her asking why she was doing this. Back then, she’d only replied to her father. What had she said again?

She clicked open the chat. There was just one message from him:

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

The timestamp was from the night she entered her susceptibility phase—probably after he’d checked in on her post-work, only to find out his daughter was now a sobbing, clingy Omega seen by half the country.

Qi Siyu’s face contorted for a second. How was I supposed to know that Alpha susceptibility was this… unhinged? According to her original plan, this whole show was supposed to be her redemption arc—highlighting her “washing Gu Qing white.”

Her mother hadn’t messaged her last time. Being a pharmaceutical scientist, she practically lived in the lab.

But this time… even her mom had texted.

Clenching her jaw, Qi Siyu tapped into that conversation.

First, there was a sped-up video clip, followed by a short message:
“Xiao Yi, your 13th uncle’s wife wants to know how you trained your stamina. One of her athletes is stuck at a performance plateau.”

Attached was the aunt’s WeChat contact card.

Qi Siyu closed her eyes, unable to believe what she was seeing. She never thought her vomiting-from-overexertion moment would become a topic of family interest.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. Dozens more messages flooded in—some teasing, some genuinely concerned.

One thing was crystal clear: Everyone knew about her susceptibility phase.

Her hands trembled slightly as she held the phone.

“What’s wrong?” Gu Qing glanced back from the wheelchair when she noticed they’d stopped. She was met with Qi Siyu’s utterly speechless face—and trembling hands.

“N-Nothing.” Qi Siyu hurried to compose her expression and started walking again. “Just… a flood of messages after three days offline.”

“Mm.” Gu Qing gave her a cool, unreadable look. Let’s see how long you can keep up this act.

And on the way back to Lichun Garden, Qi Siyu emotionally died, then revived, then died again…

In that endless cycle of emotional devastation, her spirit withered into dust.

Gu Xiaoling’s uproarious laughter shattered the last sliver of her dignity:

“Hahaha! I seriously didn’t expect this—President Qi is such a crybaby! Hahahahahaha!”

Inside the penthouse living room, several new framed photos were now proudly displayed. The subject? Qi Siyu in all her susceptibility-phase glory.

Crying sadly, crying with joy, crying out of frustration…

Qi Siyu shot Gu Xiaoling a glare sharp enough to slice through bone—as if she wanted to carve her into pieces with just her eyes.

Gu Xiaoling stood tall and unbothered, basking in her victory like a conquering general.

Gu Qing facepalmed. Clearly, this was Gao Li’s mischief again—that mischievous little imp.

She looked over at Qi Siyu. The woman was like a block of summer ice—cracked, melted, and on the verge of collapse.

After a long moment, Qi Siyu forced a strong, toothy smile. “Wow, so many pictures of me. I look amazing. Are you in love with me?”

“Don’t fall for me. I’m just a legend.”

Then, turning to Gu Qing with what little dignity she had left: “I’m a bit tired. I’m going to rest now.”

She quickly fled to the guest bedroom—clearly avoiding the master bedroom they had shared.

In that moment of panic and embarrassment, Qi Siyu made a snap decision:

Tomorrow, she would leave Gu Qing and disappear to some far-off place to recover in peace.