After the Scumbag Alpha Accidentally Marked the Blackened Villain - Chapter 6

The scene ultimately ended with Shan Yi deliberately forgetting her lines one last time. Before the director could even yell “Cut,” a dark shadow leapt into the lake—shouts rang out as Lin Bie emerged from the water, supporting Leng Jinxi.

Having already witnessed what Leng Jinxi’s heat phase looked like, Lin Bie knew exactly how much pain she must be in. Fortunately, Lin Bie was also an S-Class Alpha, and she had come prepared with suppressant patches. Even more fortunate, the patches in this world worked on both Alphas and Omegas.

Despite soaking in the icy water for so long, Leng Jinxi’s body was burning hot, her cheeks flushed a worrying shade of red. She was trembling all over and could only lean against Lin Bie’s warmth for support.

Thanks to the vest she wore, Lin Bie’s sudden jump into the scene didn’t draw suspicion. Most assumed she was a newly hired assistant for Leng Jinxi.

With one arm around Leng Jinxi’s waist and the other shielding her flushed face from prying eyes, Lin Bie carefully helped her into a chair, wrapped her in a towel, accepted some medicine from an assistant, and fussed over her with such care that she looked more like a real assistant than the actual one.
“Take some medicine first.”

As the cool relief pressed against her burning neck, Leng Jinxi’s soaked hair dripped down her cheeks. She looked up at Lin Bie, her eyes glazed and shimmering.

Without arguing, Leng Jinxi lowered her eyes and took the medicine and warm water with trembling hands.

Watching her swallow the pills, Lin Bie finally felt a hint of relief. She handed the thermometer to the assistant and gave instructions:
“Please help her change into dry clothes.”

Only after ensuring everything was handled did Lin Bie turn to confront Shan Yi, who had been loudly ranting at the director.
“Director, what’s with Lin Bie? She just barged onto the set without a cut being called! Where’s the professionalism? I demand she be fired!” Shan Yi shouted, pointing at her.

“The one breaking rules here is you, Shan Yi,” Lin Bie said, stepping forward, water still dripping from her body. The cold evening wind didn’t faze her. Shadows from her brow deepened the darkness in her eyes.

Her presence loomed over Shan Yi, who instinctively tucked her hand behind her back.
“I was acting. Leng Jinxi didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Who are you to speak on her behalf?” Shan Yi sneered, completely oblivious to her own behavior.

“If I’m not mistaken, today is your first day on this set. Jumping in to steal the spotlight already? What gives you the right to talk to me?”

Lin Bie didn’t respond to Shan Yi’s bait. Instead, she turned to the director.
“Director, abusing your position to settle personal scores, bullying a fellow cast member, deliberately causing repeated retakes even knowing she’s ill—isn’t this workplace bullying?”

Before either of them could react, Lin Bie snatched the script from Shan Yi’s stunned assistant and casually skimmed through it, quickly circling a few lines with a red pen.

“What are you doing?!” Shan Yi cried, snatching it back.

Hands in her pockets, Lin Bie replied coolly,
“In that last scene, you completely misunderstood your character. The performance was flat, devoid of emotional depth. Yu Qiao is a complex person, and this was one of her key turning points—there are at least three emotional shifts in that scene. Instead, you portrayed her like a mindless interrogator. Honestly, Shan Yi, every character you play ends up looking like you.”

Her sharp critique flushed Shan Yi’s face with embarrassment. She opened her mouth to argue, only to catch the judgmental gazes of the crew. Rage surged through her.

What made it worse was that Lin Bie was right. That was the most humiliating part—being schooled by a so-called amateur, and twice in one day.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve! Everyone saw how terrible your audition was. What makes you think you can lecture me?!” Shan Yi screamed, drawing more attention.

Despite her funding and temper, people had always tolerated her. But now, this newcomer had completely shattered her pride. The murmurs around her stung more than any insult.

Director Xie Yushu, her head pounding from all the yelling, finally snapped:
“Enough!”

She glanced at the surrounding crew.
“Everyone, take a break. We’re done with this scene. Get ready for the next one.”

Then she turned to Shan Yi, her voice sharp.
“Lin Bie was right. Even if we finished that scene, it would’ve been unusable. It failed to capture anything of Yu Qiao’s charm.”

“Director—” Shan Yi tried to protest.

But Xie Yushu cut her off again.
“Lin Bie, how did you know all this?” She remembered that terrible audition and how deeply unimpressed she’d been. But just now, Lin Bie had pinpointed character beats in seconds—only someone intimately familiar with the script could’ve done that.

“I studied with a few production crews after the audition and read through the entire script for Willing Heart. I even wrote character backstories for all the major roles,” Lin Bie replied.

It wasn’t a lie. Those were skills she’d developed in her real life. Though this time, she’d stumbled into it by accident.

“Not bad at all,” Xie Yushu said, visibly pleased. Then she noticed Lin Bie’s soaking clothes.

“Go change. You’ll catch a cold like that.”

Lin Bie nodded, brushing past Shan Yi with a soft sneer.
“Shan Yi, even without a thermometer, anyone could tell there’s something wrong with your head.”

With that, she walked over to Leng Jinxi, crouched down, and spoke in a voice as gentle as a breeze:
“Are you feeling any better after the medicine?”

Leng Jinxi had changed into dry clothes. Raindrops clung to her long lashes. Her gaze was unreadable.
“Lin Bie, you—”

“Leng-jie, the ambulance is here!” the assistant interrupted, and whatever Leng Jinxi was about to say was lost.

Lin Bie stood.
“Go ahead. I won’t keep you.”

Leng Jinxi looked down, fingers twisting the fabric of her sleeve. A hollow emptiness filled her chest. She spoke without thinking:
“Aren’t you coming with me?”

Her voice was so soft, it seemed like it might vanish into the air.

Her eyes, glazed from the fever, shimmered like a lake—red-rimmed and shining, reflecting something impossibly pure.

Lin Bie’s heart skipped. For a moment, she was struck with déjà vu, as if she’d seen that gaze before. But the thought slipped through her fingers like mist.
“I’ll change my clothes and be right there. Don’t worry.”

“…Okay.” Leng Jinxi let her assistant help her up and slowly walked away.

Lin Bie watched her disappear down the hall before heading off to change.

In the dressing room, she was fiddling with her phone when the door swung open.

Without looking up, she said,
“I knew you’d come.”

Shan Yi scoffed.
“And you’re clever enough to expect me.”

Lin Bie didn’t bother with pleasantries. She tapped her phone, and a voice rang out clearly: recordings of their heated arguments from noon and the afternoon set, word for word.

Shan Yi blanched.
“What is this?!” she demanded, lunging for the phone.

Lin Bie slipped it out of reach.
“Too late. It’s already uploaded to the cloud.”

She tucked the phone into her pocket and smiled faintly.
“You’ve got a public image to maintain, right? Imagine the headline—‘Mature Actress Snaps, Verbally Abuses Colleague on Set.’ Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Shan Yi’s smile faltered. The pressure of public opinion could crush anyone. Her expression hardened.
“What do you want?”

“Stop targeting Leng Jinxi.”

“In your dreams! Who the hell are you to demand anything from me?”

The moment her name came up, Shan Yi’s temper flared.

“Leng Jinxi’s no saint! One of you toys with girls’ hearts, the other is willing to marry trash for benefits. You’re two of a kind!”

She stood and pointed at Lin Bie, screaming:
“Now what? Done playing around and trying to crawl back to your precious family? Redeeming yourself now? What a joke. You don’t deserve redemption—you deserve hell!”

Lin Bie sat calmly, letting her finish.
“I’m sorry about Bei Ning. If you hate me, fine. But don’t drag innocent people into it. Leng Jinxi and I are in a business marriage. Whatever grudge you hold against me, take it out on me, not her.”

Her voice grew cold, eyes sharp as obsidian.
“And for the record, this isn’t a negotiation. It’s a warning. Shan Yi, I hope this is the last time. You know very well—I’ve never been a good person.”

With that, she stood and walked out. Shan Yi’s furious screams echoed faintly through the walls, startling the crew outside.

Lin Bie didn’t stop. She saved the audio file and caught a ride to the hospital.

She and Leng Jinxi had reconnected on WeChat, and this time, Leng Jinxi actually replied.

After confirming the hospital’s name, Lin Bie made a stop at a law office and arrived at the city center hospital an hour later.

The hallway smelled of antiseptic. Lin Bie opened the door to find Leng Jinxi sitting in bed, watching the sunset.

The moment their eyes met, Leng Jinxi’s gaze returned to its usual cold detachment. As if that fleeting moment of vulnerability earlier had been Lin Bie’s illusion.

“How are you feeling now? Any better?” Lin Bie asked, closing the door and approaching her bedside.

“It was a heat flare triggered by the fever. I’m fine now,” Leng Jinxi replied, her eyes drifting to the file folder in Lin Bie’s hands.

Lin Bie noticed her glance and took out the documents without hesitation.
“I told you this morning I’d give you an answer. Since this is just a business arrangement between us, I had a lawyer draw up a prenuptial agreement. It’s to ensure what happened before won’t ever happen again.”