Transmigrated as the Scumbag Alpha of a Cold Movie Queen - Chapter 73

After reading the note, Gu Qing felt relieved—she now understood Qi Siyu’s situation.

Gu Xiaoling had been watching Gu Qing’s expression the entire time, but her face remained unreadable, not even blinking more than usual. She couldn’t discern a thing.

What could possibly be written on that note? Why was Qi Siyu suddenly sent away?

Gu Xiaoling was like an ant on a hot pan, filled with anxiety.

“Gu-jie, what are we going to do next?” she asked, trying to probe indirectly, hoping to gauge her sister’s opinion of Qi Siyu based on their upcoming actions.

“We proceed as planned,” Gu Qing replied coolly.

“We’re just… not going to worry about Qi Siyu?” Xiaoling grew more anxious.

Though she used to dislike Qi Siyu, after spending so many days together, she realized that while Qi Siyu might be troublesome, she had her redeeming qualities.

She’d even started to consider her a teammate.

And hadn’t Gu-jie been quite concerned about her too? Concerned enough to make Xiaoling jealous.

“Is she in any danger or facing trouble that requires our help?” Gu Qing looked up at Xiaoling.

Xiaoling thought seriously. No—there wasn’t. She shook her head.

“Then go rest. We’ll see her again once we return home.”

Gu Qing patted Xiaoling’s head and sent her off to bed.

Meanwhile, she herself went to knock on Song Xinglin and Gu Junsi’s door.

________________________________________

Song Xinglin was pleasantly surprised to see Gu Qing, though also a bit nervous.

“A-Qing, is there something you need from Mom?”

“Can I come in?” Gu Qing asked.

“Of course!” Song Xinglin quickly stepped aside to let her in.

“Your father is working. Would you like something to drink?”

“Lemon water, please. By the way… were you the one who paid the penalty fee last time?” Gu Qing maneuvered her wheelchair to face the sofa in the small living room.

Even though she’d revealed to the couple that her legs were fully functional, she still used the wheelchair in this setting.

Gu Junsi’s odd reaction at the time—his confusion about the whole matter—had already made Gu Qing suspicious, though she hadn’t looked into it deeply until now.

Song Xinglin’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the lemon slices, accidentally dropping one into the glass.

The usually unflappable businesswoman, always composed even in high-stakes situations, was suddenly flustered at her daughter’s calm question.

“Yes… I did.”

“I see.” Gu Qing didn’t comment further—it seemed like a passing question.

Her gaze then landed on a folder beneath the glass-top coffee table.

“Is this the divorce agreement?”

She bent forward and casually flipped through it with slender fingers, stopping at the signature page.

Unlike the messy handwriting on the note, Qi Siyu’s signature here was neat and resolute, without hesitation—almost as if she had expected and accepted this decision long ago.

Song Xinglin quietly walked over and placed the lemon water in front of Gu Qing.

“A-Qing, you’re still young. It’s easy to be blinded by fleeting tenderness. But who knows if that temporary warmth isn’t hiding a coming storm?” she said cautiously.

She had, of course, investigated how well Qi Siyu had treated Gu Qing over the past two months.

But what exactly had that treatment given her?

Gu Qing was already a talented young actress with a promising future.

Her legs, her looks, her reputation, her fans, her popularity—these were all hers to begin with. Had Qi Siyu interfered with any of that, directly or indirectly?

Even Gu Qing seeking therapy because of Qi Siyu—Song Xinglin knew every detail of those sessions.

The complete personality change could very well be a case of dissociative identity disorder.

“Even if she means no harm, she’s still a ticking time bomb. You never know when she’ll go off.”

Having her daughter back had made Song Xinglin desperate to protect her like a fortress, letting no one hurt her precious child.

If not for the fear of upsetting Gu Qing, she would have locked her up, safe and sound under her own wings.

“I understand,” Gu Qing said. “That’s why whatever the outcome is, it’ll be my own choice.”

As for her own suspicions—that the current Qi Siyu might be a foreign soul inhabiting the original body—she would keep that to herself for now.

Such an outrageous theory wouldn’t be believed anyway.

She took a sip of lemon water—far too sour for her taste. No sugar. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Perhaps you should consider continuing therapy,” Gu Qing said gently, sensing the underlying paranoia in Song Xinglin’s words. She could understand it—but she wouldn’t yield to it. “I want our meeting to make our lives better than they were, not worse.”

Song Xinglin gave a bitter smile. “I’ll keep seeing the therapist.”

Two decades of self-blame and emotional damage wouldn’t disappear overnight.

In fact, seeing her daughter again had intensified it. She had lost her baby.

The baby girl she had once cradled.

There were smoother, subtler ways to separate Qi Siyu and Gu Qing, but Song Xinglin had chosen the most direct and forceful route—because she couldn’t bear to wait.

She was terrified that Qi Siyu would hurt Gu Qing.

And Song Xinglin was sick. Gu Qing had read many books on personality disorders.

Though not a professional, she knew enough to recognize the signs.

“I promise I won’t make any more decisions for you without asking. Please don’t be angry,” Song Xinglin said stiffly.

“If you want her to come back, then I—”

“No need to get involved in things between me and her,” Gu Qing interrupted.

“Just proceed as planned. I’ll cooperate.”

A few days apart might be good.

Qi Siyu probably didn’t want to see her either, which was why she left so easily.

She kept calling it friendship, after all—perhaps she couldn’t accept how intimate things had become between them.

Gu Qing downed the lemon water and set the cup down.

“Good night, Mom. Sweet dreams.”

That single word—Mom—cleared Song Xinglin’s mind of all her messy thoughts.

She slept peacefully for the first time in a long while.

________________________________________

After returning to China, Qi Siyu ordered a huge amount of food while in the car back to Lichun Garden.

The moment she got home, she began devouring it like a starving person.

Only when her stomach was round and bloated did she stop, burping several times before wiping her mouth.

Satisfied? Yes.

But not quite the satisfaction she wanted. Someday, Gu Qing must cook that hot bowl of wontons for her.

The empty apartment felt especially quiet. After lazing around for a bit, Qi Siyu turned on the TV.

Laughter and chatter echoed from the screen, but no matter how many times she switched positions or channels, nothing felt right.

Maybe she’d gotten used to Gu Qing’s presence.

Or maybe it was just this A/B/O world and its quirks. Either way, she couldn’t shake the unease.

Eventually, she gave in, went to the bedroom, and pulled Gu Qing’s clothes from the closet, piling them on the sofa.

But everything had been washed and ironed—no scent of Gu Qing at all.

Just a faint smell of detergent.

Not a problem.

Qi Siyu pulled a bottle of perfume from her system inventory and sprayed it generously.

Within seconds, the entire living room was filled with the scent of red wine and chocolate.

Now it felt right.

Surrounded by the scent, and the sounds of laughter on TV, she slowly drifted off to sleep.

In her dream, Gu Qing was there.

So were her friends. Her family. Everyone.

In the dream, she’d never transmigrated.

The show True Daughter Just Wants Her Career had been successfully adapted and was a massive hit.

Her mom and dad attended her celebration banquet.

And the star of that show?

Gu Qing herself.

After the party, slightly tipsy, dream-Qi Siyu opened the door to find Gu Qing standing there.

She pulled down her jacket zipper, revealing a sheer nightgown beneath, and softly whispered:

“Director Qi, how about considering me for your next lead role?”

Warm, fragrant softness in her arms—Qi Siyu didn’t hesitate. She pulled her inside.

The next moment, she woke up.

The warmth was gone. All that remained were cold clothes.

Her lips still curved from the sweetness of the dream.

Even if reality was a bit lonely, she had to tug at the corners of her mouth to make them lie flat again.

What a dream… family, friends, career, Gu Qing—all there.

Qi Siyu suddenly felt homesick.

It had been over two months since she came to this world. She wondered how her parents were doing.

She always forced herself not to think about home—but tonight, her subconscious reunited them all.

[Qi Siyu, thinking aloud]

“System… I have a temporary departure card, right? Is there some kind of ‘Family Visit’ card? Let me see my parents…?”

It took a long pause before the system responded:

[System]

“Host, inter-world travel requires an enormous amount of energy. The soul of an ordinary person can’t handle two crossings in a short period.”

[Qi Siyu]

“Alright, forget it then.” Sigh.

But sleep was impossible now.

She checked the time—12:30 a.m.

Su Ningqing probably isn’t asleep yet…

She made a call. After a dozen seconds, the line connected—and was instantly filled with… heavy, suggestive breathing.

“AHHHH! If you’re doing that, why the hell would you answer the phone?!”

Qi Siyu shrieked and immediately hung up.

Seriously! Have some boundaries!

She flushed, then opened her chat with Gu Qing.

She wondered what Gu Qing was doing.

Was she sore? Uncomfortable?

What kind of scumbag Alpha leaves during an Omega’s just-finished heat?!

Oh right.

A scumbag Alpha named Qi Siyu.

Qi Siyu laughed at her own joke.

Twenty minutes later, Su Ningqing called back.

“Hey, what did you want?”

“Next time you’re doing that, don’t answer the damn phone!” Qi Siyu scolded.

Su Ningqing scoffed, “It’s not like I was breathing for you. Spit it out. My wife’s waiting for round two.”

Qi Siyu: !!!

Ugh. So what if you have a wife?!

“How much of the script have you revised? Send me the latest version.”

“You’re insane—calling me in the middle of the night for a script? Don’t tell me Gu Qing kicked you out?!” Su Ningqing nearly laughed in disbelief.

“She didn’t! We’re just… friends!”

Okay, not purely anymore, but still friends! Qi Siyu’s tone faltered slightly.

“Just send the script.”

“What do you even want it for?” Su Ningqing wasn’t about to hang up yet—something clearly happened.

“To review, break down the plot and characters. Start early. Directors shouldn’t get scripts the same time as actors.”

“You’re directing now?” Su Ningqing laughed.

“Trying to impress your girl? Go invest in your own project like I did.”

She had only become a producer to match her wife’s career as a screenwriter.

She was convinced Qi Siyu’s motivation was the same.

“I’m a professional!” Qi Siyu protested.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

“Don’t even think about seducing my wife. Her script is perfect now. I’m hiring a top director for it.”

She was ready to turn the project into a hit and bag her wife a Best New Screenwriter award.

Hehehe.

Qi Siyu hung up, annoyed, while Su Ningqing cackled.

She pulled out the system’s revised version of the script and started sketching out the first episode’s storyboard.

Tomorrow, she would prove her worth to Su Ningqing—

with pure, undeniable talent.

Let that love-blind puppy tremble in awe!