Transmigrated into a Trashy A and Ended Up with My Grudge-filled Best Friend and My Own CP - Chapter 57

Ye Ye let out an affected “Hmm,” raising her arm to reveal a red bracelet that accentuated the paleness of her skin. She then added in a coquettish tone, “Sister is so mean.”

Ding Moyan remained silent for a moment before expressionlessly attempting to close the door. “Stop being ridiculous. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m sleeping here,” Ye Ye declared swiftly, wedging a hand against the door.

Ding Moyan refused without hesitation. “No.”

Ye Ye arched a brow. “Don’t forget, you promised to take care of me before.”

A vein throbbed on Ding Moyan’s forehead. “But you’re perfectly fine now.”

“No, it hurts. Not just my injuries, my heart aches too,” Ye Ye said in a melodramatic, Lin Daiyu-esque tone, yanking the door open with force and striding inside.

Ye Ye tossed a pillow onto the bed and surveyed the room’s layout, which was far better than the guest room the housekeeper had assigned her. She plopped down onto the bed without reservation, sinking into the plush mattress with satisfaction.

“This place the President arranged for you is really nice,” Ye Ye marveled. “Especially this bed, it’s amazing.”

Noticing Ding Moyan’s darkening expression and fearing she might drag her out, Ye Ye immediately burrowed under the covers.

Ding Moyan said nothing, silently observing the cocooned figure on the bed before finally concluding, “…You’re dead.”

Well, it had nothing to do with her. If the President caught Ye Ye, she’d be the only one in trouble, why should Ding Moyan care?

With that thought, Ding Moyan’s mood lightened considerably. After blow-drying her hair and taking a sip of warm water, she walked over to the bookshelf at the foot of the bed.

The shelves were lined with books filled with incomprehensible text, which piqued Ding Moyan’s curiosity.

Truthfully, she was more interested in what the President usually read. Whenever she saw the President, she was either working or flipping through books from the shelf, finding a quiet spot to read and sip tea.

Ding Moyan pulled out a large red-spined book the President had recently perused. Upon opening it, the dense text and small symbolic annotations the President had scribbled made her head spin.

Ding Moyan pursed her lips and shook her head. Yep, she was definitely better off being an academic slacker.

She opened the System Panel, recalling that the blue interface had a text translation service.

**[Gene Mutants

Table of Contents: …]**

Reading the title, Ding Moyan’s lips twitched. She spotted a folded page likely where the President had last stopped with a heading discussing research on transforming Betas into Omegas.

In this world, Alphas and Omegas were rare. When two Betas mated, there was a 99% chance their offspring would also be Betas. However, when an Alpha and Omega paired, the higher the Gland rank, the higher the probability also 99%, of producing high-tier Alpha or Omega descendants.

Thus, most Alphas took Omegas as partners. But in recent years, interstellar flora, fauna, and other organisms had undergone mutations. These mutants slaughtered and devoured humans, infecting numerous planets. Omegas, with their weaker physiques compared to Alphas and Betas, often perished during escapes to other planets. As a result, the current ratio of Omegas to Alphas stood at 1:5.

Many experts predict that omegas will soon become extinct, and the extinction of omegas will also affect alphas. By then, this era will be dominated by betas.

At this point, an expert proposed a modification plan.

Ding Moyan rarely paid such close attention, but she continued flipping through the pages. The content roughly described an experiment to transform betas into omegas. It was written in great detail, even mentioning the establishment of specialized laboratories and the use of death-row beta prisoners for the experiments. Just reading it made Ding Moyan feel like it was utterly absurd.

Turning betas into omegas aside from the fact that such an experiment defied nature, the very idea of human experimentation made Ding Moyan’s throat tighten. Her mind involuntarily conjured images of people strapped to tables, screaming in agony. The thought alone made her nauseous.

The next page showed the instruments required for the experiment and diagrams of human dissection. Ding Moyan flipped it over but immediately closed the book again.

This wasn’t something meant for human eyes. Her mood grew heavy once more.

Come to think of it, how could this book even be published? Ding Moyan flipped to the back, but there was no publisher or price listed, only the names of the authors.

Authors: Zou Ming, Shen Chang’an.

Ding Moyan murmured the two names under her breath. When she reached Shen Chang’an, her thoughts immediately connected to Shen Changle.

Her experiences in the holographic game were still vivid in her memory. Every encounter with him had left her unsettled. Holding this book in her hands, she couldn’t help but feel wary of him.

“Ding Moyan.” Ye Ye poked her head out from under the blanket.

“Hmm?” Ding Moyan placed the book back on the shelf and turned to look at the person on the bed.

Ye Ye’s eyes darted toward the red spine of the book on the shelf. “What are you reading? It’s late, why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Waiting for someone.”

Ye Ye frowned. “Who? Don’t tell me you’re waiting for the President.”

Ding Moyan narrowed her eyes slightly, smiling without answering as she looked at Ye Ye.

“Damn it.” Ye Ye threw off the blanket in alarm, ready to bolt.

Just then, the door’s recognition system chimed, and Ding Moyan turned toward the sound.

The door opened, and Zong Jia walked in.

Her long hair was temporarily wrapped in a white towel, with stray damp strands clinging to her forehead and cheeks. Her face was slightly flushed, and she wore a white bathrobe, clearly having just stepped out of the shower.

Ding Moyan instinctively glanced at the bed now a mess of tangled blankets, with no trace of the person who had been there moments ago.

She scanned the room, but there weren’t many places to hide someone that size. The small window in the walk-in closet was open, but surely Ye Ye couldn’t have dashed in there and jumped out in the blink of an eye.

“What are you looking at?” Zong Jia’s gaze landed on the disheveled bed, her brow furrowing slightly. “And what’s this were you dancing on the bed?”

Under the President’s scrutiny, Ding Moyan pressed her lips together. Though she had claimed she’d let Ye Ye face the consequences of her recklessness, at the last moment, she couldn’t bring herself to be completely heartless after all, Ye Ye had never harmed her before.

In the end, she blurted out a flimsy excuse: “Ah, I was feeling a bit tired, so I took a nap, and then…”

Before she could finish, Zong Jia already understood, she had firsthand experience from the day before. She pulled out her phone and sent a message to the housekeeper, instructing them to remake the bed.

Once that was settled, Zong Jia picked up a hairdryer to dry her hair.

Perhaps out of guilt from the earlier incident, Ding Moyan approached hesitantly. “President, let me help you with that.”

Zong Jia paused in her movements but didn’t refuse, handing the hairdryer to Ding Moyan.

Ding Moyan took the hairdryer and gently combed through Zong Jia’s long hair, meticulously drying the President’s locks. The sound of the hairdryer filled the room.

At the same time, the butler brought a servant to tidy up the messy bed.

Ding Moyan worked carefully, keeping an eye on Zong Jia’s expression while drying her hair. Zong Jia seemed unbothered, sitting upright with her eyes closed in meditation.

After a while, when the hair was nearly dry, Zong Jia’s reflection in the mirror showed her silver strands slightly tousled. The corners of her lips curled faintly, giving her a casual yet sensual look.

Recalling the smooth texture she had just touched, Ding Moyan felt an urge to reach out and stroke it again, but her fingers inexplicably froze mid-air.

The next second, as if realizing something, she jerked her hand back like she’d been shocked. That was close thankfully, the President hadn’t opened her eyes yet.

“All done, President,” Ding Moyan said, turning off the hairdryer.

“Mhm.” Zong Jia lifted her eyelids and glanced at the mirror.

After putting her things away, Zong Jia said, “It’s late. Let’s sleep.”

“Okay.”

Ye Ye, who had been hiding under the bed the entire time, listened to everything with growing discomfort. When she saw Zong Jia approaching instead of leaving, her heart leaped into her throat.

To her shock, Zong Jia sat on the bed, then removed her slippers, pulled back the covers, and lay down.

Ye Ye’s face twisted in disbelief. With only the mattress and bed frame separating them, she didn’t dare breathe too loudly.

Buzz, buzz, buzz her phone vibrated three times in her pants pocket.

Ding Moyan took out her phone and saw three messages.

Ye Ye: Why is the President staying in this room too?

Ye Ye: You screwed me over again.

Ye Ye: What do you gain if I die?

Ding Moyan frowned slightly but patiently replied one by one: This is the President’s room. I didn’t screw you over. And if you die, I get to attend the funeral feast.

Ye Ye’s attention was caught by the first line: The President’s room?!?!

In her shock, Ye Ye accidentally kicked the wooden bed frame.

The sound was faint, and luckily, it was masked by Ding Moyan placing a glass of warm water on the table.

Biting back a yelp, Ye Ye typed through the pain: You should’ve told me.

Ding Moyan rolled her eyes and typed: You barged in so eagerly, I thought you’d asked the butler whose room this was.

Ye Ye: …

Ding Moyan: Where are you hiding?

Ye Ye: Under the bed, what about it?

Ding Moyan replied mercilessly: Tsk tsk, how tragic!

Ye Ye: Why are you sharing a bed with the President? Don’t you have your own room?

Ding Moyan: You can ask the President that.

Ding Moyan turned off the lights and lay on the very edge of the bed, clutching a corner of the blanket as she closed her eyes. The tension from the day must have worn her out because she relaxed almost immediately and fell asleep within minutes.

Zong Jia, however, felt no drowsiness. She ran her fingers through her hair, catching a faint fragrance similar to her usual shampoo, but today, she thought she detected something else. Her earlobes grew inexplicably warm as she slowly steadied her restless thoughts.

Just as she had calmed down, the person beside her began shifting restlessly in her sleep. After a few turns, she ended up mere centimeters away from Zong Jia.

Ding Moyan’s arm draped over Zong Jia’s waist.

The warm breath from her lips coiled delicately into the depths of her ear.

This subtle emotion didn’t last long. In the next moment, the sleeping Ding Moyan kicked her knee, sending Zong Jia tumbling to the floor with a thud.

Thump!

Zong Jia slowly got up, rubbing her head as she exhaled heavily, seemingly contemplating what kind of rope she should use tomorrow to keep Ding Moyan firmly tied to the bed.

Her gaze inadvertently fell on a half-exposed red rope beneath the bed. Her fingers twitched slightly, and her eyes narrowed.

Sleeping on the hard floor, the pampered Ye Ye couldn’t rest deeply. The slightest disturbance was enough to wake him.

Grumpily, Ye Ye lifted his eyelids, only to snap awake the next instant.

Their eyes met. The icy stare sent her heart plummeting, a dull ache throbbing faintly in her chest. It was the kind of gaze reserved for corpses.

Ye Ye’s pupils constricted violently, his scalp prickling as if ants were crawling all over his body. Overwhelmed by terror, he fumbled for words.

“President…”

“Uh, g-good evening.”

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