Transmigrated as the Scumbag Alpha of a Cold Movie Queen - Chapter 53

Early the next morning, they once again went to the hospital to apply medicine to Gu Qing’s face.

This time, it needed to be applied to her entire face. After seeing the results from the first day, Gu Xiaoling had no objections.

Qi Siyu came fully prepared. She had swapped the wheelchair for a heated massage chair, and placed a rubber ball and a soft cork stick in Gu Qing’s mouth and hand ahead of time.

“A new one?” Gu Qing glanced at the cork—it was free of bite marks.

“Mhm. I disinfected and sealed the ones we used. Thought we could keep them as souvenirs, hehe.” Qi Siyu could sense that Gu Qing was speechless, though her expression didn’t change at all.

“Kind of a record, you know?”

“Suit yourself.” Gu Qing bit down on the cork and said nothing more.

This time, Gao Li, Gu Xiaoling, and Qi Siyu all helped apply the medicine. Qi Siyu gave a quick pre-battle pep talk: “We’ve got to be fast. It’s fine if we use a little more ointment— the faster we’re done, the less pain Gu Qing has to endure.”

The other two nodded solemnly. “Got it.”

They applied the medicine swiftly. Qi Siyu let out a long breath when it was done. These days felt endless—but thankfully, only six more sessions remained.

Thinking of that, she gave Gu Xiaoling a pointed glare. If not for her crying and insisting they take it slow, Gu Qing wouldn’t have to suffer this extra round.

Gu Xiaoling gave a weak humph and walked off. She wasn’t going to stoop to Qi Siyu’s level.

With that tiny victory over Gu Xiaoling, Qi Siyu relaxed a bit. But the moment she saw Gu Qing’s clenched fists and bloodless knuckles, her heart tightened again.

Almost there. Once Gu Qing’s face recovered, the physical damage from the car accident would finally be behind them.

As long as she’s okay, everything else can be sorted out in time.

For now, aside from the upcoming recording of Carefree Vacation, the only thing left on Gu Qing’s plate was that script.

The production didn’t need any investment partners, and Qi Siyu was having trouble finding a suitable screenwriter to fix the lackluster script.

Still, that was a minor issue. With the system’s help, Qi Siyu planned to settle it within the next few days.

Just then, her phone rang. She stepped out of the hospital room to answer—it was Gao Zhonghai, inviting her to afternoon tea.

She agreed. It would be a good chance to see if Gao Zhonghai had any connections with the producers of that script.

After meeting him, she’d head home and draw a lottery prize.

As she made her plans, time slipped by unnoticed.

Though Gu Qing was drenched in sweat from the pain, her mood was unusually light.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze softened. Even when looking at Qi Siyu, there was a subtle warmth in her eyes.

As an actress, her face was indispensable.

Her swift rise had been thanks to three things: the company’s support, her acting skills, and her face.

Even if she no longer had the company’s backing, with the other two, she could still forge a smooth path forward.

Qi Siyu didn’t know what Gu Qing was thinking—she was too busy feeling distressed and immediately called someone in to help Gu Qing relax and clean up.

That afternoon, Qi Siyu went to meet Gao Zhonghai as planned.

The meeting spot, per her request, was a quiet café in the Lichun Garden residential complex. Gao Zhonghai wasn’t worth wasting a skill card on. Last time when Gu Qing came to see her, barely any of the card’s time was used, so she planned to save it for later.

When she arrived, Gao Zhonghai was already there and greeted her with a smile.

Clearly, he had a favor to ask.

Qi Siyu gave him a curious look, her gaze landing on the top of his head. His hair was surprisingly full and thick.

Gao Zhonghai patted his precious hair. “Not about that. But if you have extra hair growth pills, I would gladly take some. Lots of folks in my support group are struggling with hair loss too.”

In her quest for treatment, he had joined several support groups—they were all working on it together.

Qi Siyu twitched her lips. “Then what do you want from me?”

“It’s about Jia Junjie. You’re planning to expose her, right?” Gao Zhonghai cut straight to the chase. “You must still be holding onto more dirt. Hold off a little, yeah? Wait till I finish filming the second season of my show.”

“You really live by the motto ‘all publicity is good publicity,’ don’t you?” Qi Siyu snorted.

Only in a fictional world could someone like him not get shut down by the broadcasting bureau for corrupting the youth.

“Hey, attention means money.” Gao Zhonghai didn’t care what others thought—he was in it for the profit, and the viewers loved the drama.

“Fine. If you’re filming locally, how about having her arrested near the end of the shoot?” Qi Siyu suggested. “Even better if the filming location is her hometown—get the victims’ parents to confront her on-site.”

Gao Zhonghai froze. “Wait, she’s a criminal?”

“Mhm. Child abuse, pedophilia, fraud,” Qi Siyu said casually.

“Can you send me all the evidence?” Gao Zhonghai was suddenly fired up.

“Sure,” Qi Siyu replied, then asked, “What are you planning?”

“I’m changing the concept. Gonna give the show some positive energy for once.” Gao Zhonghai downed his coffee. “I’ll send you my email on WeChat. Thanks—gotta run, I’ve got a meeting.”

Qi Siyu clicked her tongue. What a shameless pursuit of heat. Still, she hoped Gao Zhonghai could give Jia Junjie an unforgettable ‘vacation.’

“Hold on,” Qi Siyu grabbed him before he left. “I needed to ask you something too. Do you know the producer of Which Me Do You Love?”

“That trash script ended up in Gu Qing’s hands, but I want to polish it into something decent.”

Gao Zhonghai shook his head. “I’ve heard shady things about that crew. Your Qi family probably have the connections, but I don’t.”

Qi Siyu always forgot she could use her family’s connections. If worse came to worst, she could reach out—her original self’s mother at least seemed nice.

“Alright, but help me look into it when you have time. I’m open to any terms.”

Even if they were laundering money, wouldn’t it be more profitable to produce a good show than a crappy one?

Gao Zhonghai took off, and Qi Siyu ordered a few desserts to go for Gu Qing.

They say sweets improve your mood—and for Qi Siyu, that was absolutely true.

While waiting for the desserts, Qi Siyu started crafting a message. She was thinking of asking her original self’s father for help. If he refused, then she would go to her mother.

But she was wary. If she got too close to them, she might start blurring the line between this world and reality—and she refused to play the stand-in game.

Even if she never made it back to her real world.

She sent the message—and got an immediate reply: a contact card with a note, “Don’t go running to your mom.”

Ha! Qi Siyu sent back the classic laughing-with-hand-over-mouth emoji.

But as she laughed, a wave of sadness rose up. Her dad had always been the henpecked type, too.

She shook her head, pushing away the melancholy.

Right then, the server brought over the dessert.

Qi Siyu unwrapped a cupcake and popped it whole into her mouth.

The sweet strawberry jam melted instantly—her mood brightened at once.

This was her time to fight for her future. No time to wallow in emotions.

She pushed open the front door. “Girls, I’m back from the hunt! Come eat dessert!”

But after changing her shoes, no one responded.

Huh? Were they napping?

She casually set the desserts on the table and tiptoed to the bedroom—only to find it empty.

She searched a few more places and confirmed it: the house was completely empty.

Where did they go without telling her? She was about to pout.

Pulling out her phone, she finally noticed a message from Gu Qing—buried under a pile of public account updates.

She hadn’t opened half of them, so the red dot count was out of control. No wonder she missed it.

Annoyed, Qi Siyu pinned Gu Qing’s chat and starred her as a favorite contact.

Too bad WeChat didn’t have a “special alert” feature like the other app. If Gu Qing’s messages had a custom notification sound, she would never have missed it.

Gu Qing’s message was brief: she and Gu Xiaoling had gone out to meet Gao Li and had some errands to run.

She didn’t say what exactly they were doing, though.

Was this considered sneaking out behind her back?

Probably not. Qi Siyu had left first, and Gu Qing had messaged her.

Her pout flattened out.

She messaged her assistant: could they find a WeChat plugin that mimicked the special alert function?

It was a small ask, and since her assistant had a partner, they quickly sent her several options—plugins that allowed up to ten custom notification tones.

Qi Siyu installed it immediately.

Now, what should the notification sound be?

She opened her computer and browsed Gu Qing’s fan forums.

Tons of resources. Soon, she clipped an audio snippet of Gu Qing saying, “Check your phone.”

Hehe. Qi Siyu gleefully set it as the new alert tone—and sent a message to Gu Qing.

[Are you coming home for dinner tonight?]

A few seconds later, her phone rang out: “Check your phone.”

“I’m looking! I’m looking!” she said to no one, chuckling.

[Gao Li’s treating us to dinner. Want to join?]

[If not, I’ll head home.]

[Coming!!!] Qi Siyu replied instantly.

[Pick a place and send it to me.]

Qi Siyu blinked. [Is this a special invite?]

[Mhm.]

[Alrighty, I’ll find a place now.]

She figured Gu Qing had agreed to let Gao Li study the medicine she provided.

Hopefully Gao Li would prove useful.

The hair growth pills Qi Siyu had sent to the Gao family lab had only yielded minor insights—slightly better than existing products.

The system was truly miraculous.

What kind of restaurant? Somewhere private with good food.

China had so many cuisines… maybe a fusion-style private kitchen?

Ah, this place offered snow-cloaked red bean dessert.

Qi Siyu had eaten it as a child, during a film trip to the northeast with her father. Right before they left, she stuffed herself with it—and made herself sick.

But it was delicious. Gu Qing probably hadn’t tried it.

She sent Gu Qing the location. [How about this place?]

Maybe it was the ritual of it all—Qi Siyu didn’t check her phone, just waited for Gu Qing to trigger the “check your phone” alert again.

She really was having too much fun.

[Alright. Let’s meet at 5:30.]

Qi Siyu sent a thumbs-up and began dressing up—more seriously than she had for last night’s banquet.

Makeup wasn’t her strength, but she could definitely style her outfit. She was ready to turn heads.

Estimating the distance, Qi Siyu chose to take a cab instead of driving. Once Gu Qing could walk again, they will summon their chauffeur back.

With no traffic, Qi Siyu’s ride was smooth and cheerful.

At 5:25, she arrived at the restaurant.

A few minutes later, Gu Qing and the others showed up.

Qi Siyu waved; Gu Qing nodded in return.

The restaurant didn’t have private rooms, but partitions of greenery and screens created cozy, private booths.

Gao Li had pre-ordered. As soon as they sat, dishes were served.

“Waiter, one order of snow-cloaked red bean,” Qi Siyu said eagerly. “Have you guys ever tried it? I think it’s delicious.”

“Never.” All three shook their heads.

Qi Siyu grew even more excited. “Then you have to try it. It’s so good.”

But when the dish arrived, the first to frown was Qi Siyu herself.

“They didn’t add lemon juice to the egg whites? It’s greasy and fishy. And just look at that color—overcooked!” She looked scandalized.

She’d hyped it up so much, and now it had betrayed her.

“It’s alright,” Gu Qing said calmly. She wasn’t picky—edible was good enough.

“True, the red bean paste masks the fishiness, but a bit of lemon juice would’ve made it perfect,” Gu Xiaoling said with a sly grin. “Gu-jie, I’ll look up a recipe when we get home and make you the best version ever.”

Provoked, Qi Siyu shot her a glare—but was also reminded of something.

Back during Gu Qing’s susceptibility period, she’d cooperated with her idiot Alpha and used her scent to trick her into thinking plain biscuit sticks were chocolate wine-flavored.

Qi Siyu’s own scent was lemon candy—she could manipulate it to have only sour notes.

Nervous, she licked her lips and released a wisp of pheromones onto Gu Qing’s dessert.

Gu Qing shot her a look. “Sour.”

Qi Siyu flinched—her scent instantly turned more sour.

She tried to adjust, but overdid it—it turned cloyingly sweet.

After a few attempts, Gu Qing’s furrowed brow finally relaxed. She finished the dessert clean.

Qi Siyu exhaled in relief.

“Sour? Then it must be spoiled,” Gao Li said, unable to smell pheromones and oblivious to Qi Siyu’s meddling.

“No,” Gu Qing answered, without further explanation.

Gao Li glanced between the two, sensing something strange, but didn’t press.

Qi Siyu kept watching Gu Qing as she ate, and when she reached for another piece, Qi Siyu immediately adjusted the pheromones again.

Plop—the dessert fell from Gu Qing’s chopsticks.

“Xiaoling, inhibitor,” she said calmly.

Qi Siyu jolted.

No way… did her scent trigger this?

An urgent zuzuzu alarm echoed through the restaurant, followed by a manager’s voice over the speakers: “Apologies, everyone. An Omega has entered estrus and lost control of her pheromones.

All Alphas and Omegas, please take protective measures.”

The spicy scent hit Qi Siyu hard—it was choking, but didn’t affect her beyond that.

“I-I didn’t bring any inhibitors!” Gu Xiaoling was on the verge of tears.

Gu Qing’s face was flushed, sweat beading on her forehead. Her own scent was beginning to spiral out of control.

“Go ask the staff!” Qi Siyu barked.

Then, without hesitation, she scooped Gu Qing up in a bridal carry and bolted.

She had to get her away from the cloud of pheromones.

She sprinted through the restaurant and into the back garden.

“How do you feel?” Qi Siyu asked, though she already knew.

The red wine-chocolate pheromones were roaring off Gu Qing in waves.

“Not good,” Gu Qing whispered, face buried in Qi Siyu’s chest, fists clutching her shirt.

Qi Siyu’s heart clenched.

How did a simple dinner turn into this?

“How about… a temporary mark?” she asked.

Despite her panic, a trace of anticipation bloomed in her heart.