Transmigrated into a Trashy A and Ended Up with My Grudge-filled Best Friend and My Own CP - Chapter 40

“But Ding Moyan, your voice sounds off, and I’m still a bit worried. Sorry about this.”

Bang!

The door was kicked open, and Zou Ye strode in confidently, clad in knee-high boots.

“Well, well.” Zou Ye crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping over Ding Moyan, who stood by the sink. “What’s going on here?”

“How did you end up in such a sorry state?”

Zou Ye pinched Ding Moyan’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing it up sharply. Staring into the other’s unfocused eyes, a flicker of mockery passed through Zou Ye’s gaze, her tone dripping with undisguised glee and schadenfreude.

The corners of her lips curled higher as she sneered mercilessly, “Ding Moyan, aren’t you usually so clever?”

Ding Moyan braced herself on her arms, her legs numb and nearly devoid of sensation.

Zou Ye drove her knee into Ding Moyan’s abdomen. The sudden blow made Ding Moyan’s brows furrow in pain as she crumpled halfway to the floor.

Her teeth chattered from the agony, beads of sweat the size of peas breaking out and rolling down her forehead.

The intensifying pain forced her body to curl in on itself involuntarily.

Damn, this hurts like hell.

Clutching her stomach, Ding Moyan’s face twisted into a ghastly pallor, resembling a vengeful specter.

Watching her suffer, Zou Ye seemed to revel in her successful retaliation, her mood visibly brightening.

“Do you even know what you did wrong?” Zou Ye yanked Ding Moyan’s long hair.

The force was brutal, tugging at the roots. The drug’s effects surged through Ding Moyan’s body, and for a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if she were suffocating.

Her vision blurred. She couldn’t struggle, couldn’t speak truthfully, Ding Moyan had no strength left to resist Zou Ye.

When the Alpha before her remained silent, Zou Ye’s expression suddenly turned stern. Her pale hand trailed from Ding Moyan’s face down to her neck.

“Ding Moyan, you’re really weak right now.”

“So pitiful and wretched. It almost makes me reluctant to keep going.”

“Why don’t you kneel and beg me? Honestly, if you beg, I might consider letting you off for A Pei’s sake.”

Ding Moyan let out a muffled groan from the pain in her abdomen. She slowly turned her face away, evading Zou Ye’s touch.

But unfortunately, it didn’t stop what came next.

The back of Ding Moyan’s neck burned feverishly, as if scalded, especially when Zou Ye’s fingers brushed against her gland, making her flinch involuntarily.

Zou Ye tightened her grip around the slender, fragile neck, her palm steadily constricting.

“Ngh…”

Ding Moyan finally gasped in pain. A suffocating terror rapidly consumed her entire body. Her arms were immobilized, her breath nearly halted. Her mind was a chaotic haze, the last shreds of consciousness slipping away.

I’m going to die.

Why does this feel so unfair.

Dizzy and lightheaded, Ding Moyan’s eyelids grew heavier, slowly closing. A stubborn anger clogged her chest, she didn’t want to die like this.

Her neck hurt so much. She was so tired.

“Ding Moyan.”

As she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, a voice reached her ears. With great effort, Ding Moyan cracked her eyes open a sliver, barely making out a slender figure in the haze.

The person choking her stiffened momentarily at the newcomer’s arrival, loosening her grip. Ding Moyan collapsed limply to the floor.

The figure, though slender, was surprisingly strong. Bending down, they effortlessly scooped Ding Moyan into their arms.

The rain fell in a steady drizzle as Ding Moyan stepped out of the pitch-black car, her steps unsteady, stumbling every few paces as if she might collapse at any moment.

She had shrunk, her body now that of a six or seven-year-old child, walking along this narrow path.

The area was overgrown with weeds, the muddy path pitted with holes. A few stray dogs had taken up residence here, alongside piles of garbage that had been rotting for who knows how long, now emitting a foul stench.

Further ahead, the charred remains of a collapsed ruin came into view.

Ding Moyan’s face was as pale as paper, her eyes vacant, driven forward by an obsessive compulsion. She fell countless times, dirty water from the puddles splashing onto her clothes and face.

Crawling and stumbling, she finally reached her destination.

Tilting her head up, Ding Moyan watched as thunder rumbled in the sky, heavy raindrops splashing against her forehead.

She moved through the ruins as if it were routine, heading deeper inside. Passing by a small, flat-roofed building, she spotted two little girls in the corner, sheltered under a tiny umbrella, playing cat’s cradle.

The girls looked about five or six years old, their nimble fingers weaving the string as they sang a cheerful nursery rhyme in clear, bright voices.

“Twist, twist, twist the string, loop it round and tie it tight,

Pull the thread, shape it right, patterns woven bring delight.

You make a big chicken’s claw, I make noodles long and thin,

You weave a great fishing net, I shape a bathtub deep within.

You fold a plane with parachute, I craft scissors and a vase,

Twist and turn, twist the string, let’s see whose fingers move with grace!”

Ding Moyan’s smile gradually faded, her face twisting in horror as she stared at the two girls.

It was as if she had suddenly remembered something.

Her head jerked up, and the nightmare-like face reappeared before her eyes.

A figure standing atop the flat-roofed building hurled a brick downward right toward the two girls.

Ding Moyan rushed forward to stop it, throwing herself in front of the children to shield them.

But the brick passed right through her.

A splash of bright red blood sprayed across the face of the girl in the white hoodie. The brick struck with a heavy thud, embedding itself into the ground, leaving a small crater. It had crushed her playmate’s skull, obliterating half of the other girl’s face.

“AHHH!”

The piercing, terrified scream of the surviving girl tore through Ding Moyan’s eardrums, echoing across the desolate land.

A red umbrella, now torn with a gaping hole, was blown away by the wind, landing in the wild grass.

Thunder roared, lightning flashed, and the downpour intensified her fate would soon be as tragic as her companion’s.

Ding Moyan clutched her clothes, gasping for breath. She pinched herself hard, the pain shooting straight to her brain.

She had been dreaming, a nightmare so vivid it felt terrifyingly real.

No, that wasn’t just a dream.

It was something that had really happened to her as a child.

Ding Moyan sat up in bed, clutching her head. It felt swollen, as if something had filled it to the brim, throbbing with pain.

Then, a powerful wave of snow-plum-scented pheromones surged through the room, aggressive and overwhelming, seeping into Ding Moyan’s weakened body. The warmth it brought soothed her, dispelling the earlier tension in her nerves.

[Host! Host!]

[You’re still alive! Yay! (throws confetti) .jpg]

The system happily circled around Ding Moyan.

[Host, don’t look at me like that, you’re scaring me. Look at the President, she’s your savior this time! You’re staying at her place now, and she’s still working on the couch over there.]

Hearing the title “President,” Ding Moyan immediately became alert. She suppressed her resentful expression toward the system and turned her gaze toward the person who had been releasing pheromones for her.

“The water is beside you.” Zong Jia’s eyes remained fixed on the computer screen, but her words were directed at her.

Ding Moyan’s gaze shifted to the bedside table, where a glass of water sat filled to the brim.

The aftereffects of earlier events were still strong Ding Moyan’s hands were slightly weak. Holding her breath, she carefully cupped the glass with both hands.

The water was warm. It seemed Zong Jia had timed her awakening perfectly.

Impressive. As expected of one of the main antagonists in this story.

Ding Moyan took small sips of the warm water, occasionally stealing glances at the beautiful woman working on the plush chair. Her expression was complicated.

She felt a little uneasy.

She hadn’t expected her gamble to pay off that Zong Jia would save her from the hands of the two protagonists.

As for why Zong Jia had saved her, Ding Moyan suspected it might be because her OOC behavior had caught Zong Jia’s attention. Out of curiosity, Zong Jia had intervened, and as long as that curiosity remained unresolved, Ding Moyan believed she wouldn’t die.

Licking her lips, Ding Moyan’s glances at Zong Jia grew bolder.

The President’s expression was as calm as still water, as if nothing could ever stir a reaction on her face. Her body looked frail, not as healthy as when Ding Moyan had last seen her.

Faint as a wisp of smoke.

Yes, that was the phrase Ding Moyan could think of to describe the President at the moment.

Yet, even so, it didn’t change the fact that her methods were ruthless and her attitude dangerous.

Zong Jia’s slender fingers stopped typing. She tilted her head slightly, observing the cat-eared girl sitting on the bed. Though the girl was looking at her, her eyes were unfocused, her mind clearly wandering.

Zong Jia beckoned. “Come here.”

When Ding Moyan didn’t react, a hint of displeasure flickered across Zong Jia’s face.

She stood up, set aside her work, and strode forward, pulling Ding Moyan toward her seat. But she misjudged her strength.

Coupled with Ding Moyan’s weak legs and delayed reflexes, she ended up flying forward and landing right on top of Zong Jia.

Ding Moyan gulped. The beauty beneath her was soft and fragrant, incredibly comfortable to press against like sinking into a fluffy marshmallow. The more she thought about it, the more her mind wandered. Mostly, she just wanted to pinch and squeeze. And so, acting on impulse, she did.

So bouncy! Ding Moyan’s ears flushed red, her entire body stiffening in tension. She blinked rapidly, staring down at the beauty beneath her.

At this close distance, she noticed how long, thick, and dark Zong Jia’s eyelashes were fluttering like butterfly wings, the hallmark of a stunning beauty.

“Are you not getting up?” Zong Jia’s low voice broke the silence.

Ding Moyan’s face burned with embarrassment as she scrambled to her feet.

“President, I, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She bowed deeply in apology.

An Alpha staying in an Omega’s room was already outrageous enough, let alone pinning a little Omega beneath her.

She had squeezed the President’s slender waist and might have even pressed against her chest.

How shameful! You’re such an unethical Alpha!

Ding Moyan scolded herself inwardly, turning away and covering her eyes but her traitorous nose betrayed her, blood gushing out uncontrollably.

Zong Jia remained expressionless as she rose from the chair, dusting herself off.

She handed Ding Moyan a tissue. “Wipe it.”

“Thank you.” Ding Moyan reached behind her small hand to pull off that piece of paper, wiping her nose. “President, I…”

At this point, Ding Moyan didn’t know how to continue.

What should she say? Ask why the President had saved her from Zou Ye?

Say that she hadn’t meant to press against her chest or pinch her waist?

Or ask why the President had given her tissue to wipe her nosebleed?

No matter what she thought of saying, she felt inexplicably timid.

Zong Jia sat quietly on the soft chair. Her manners were impeccable, she rarely interrupted others, though she also wouldn’t waste time on someone who kept stammering without getting to the point.

“Can’t think of what to say?” Zong Jia crossed her right leg over her left, her tone carrying a hint of danger.

Ding Moyan swallowed hard again, then closed her eyes and mustered her courage.

With the tissue still pressed to her nose, her voice came out muffled: “President, why… why did you come to save me?”

“Ding Moyan, how did you dare to send me a distress message in the first place?” Zong Jia tossed the question back like a ball.

And that wasn’t enough, she followed up with an even more dangerous serve.

“Are you really ‘Ding Moyan’?”

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