After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine (GL) - Chapter 11

Early that morning, Pei Jiuyao was in the middle of a spring dream—she was this close to kissing Chi Yang—when the shrill ring of her phone jolted her awake.

Annoyed, she rubbed her temples and squinted at the screen. It read “Chu Si.” Her voice was still hoarse from sleep as she impatiently answered, “Who is it?”

“You didn’t even save my number!”

The sharp yell nearly ruptured her eardrums.

“Chu Si,” Pei Jiuyao pulled the phone away slightly, “Did you find the person who drugged me the other night?”

“Not yet,” Chu Si’s voice softened, amusement practically radiating through the line. “I heard Sister Wen locked in a variety show deal for you. It’s only a one-day gig, but still, not bad. We can go together…”

Chu Si continued to ramble about this and that, but Pei Jiuyao barely listened.

Strangely enough, Chu Si didn’t seem to have any obvious malice toward her, yet Pei Jiuyao couldn’t help but feel an underlying hostility.

Maybe it was because deep down, she suspected Chu Si was the one who had drugged Chi Yang.

“What variety show?” Pei Jiuyao rubbed her hair.

“You know, Chi Yang’s show—Bonfire Music Festival. Didn’t you insist on joining the moment you heard she was guesting?”

“I’m heading to vocal practice, talk later,” Chu Si paused, then chuckled lightly. “But you can’t sing. What are you going to do, be the eye candy?”

“Then again, being a pretty face works. Just seeing you makes me happy.”

Beep beep. The call ended.

Pei Jiuyao sat on her bed, tossed her phone aside, and leaned against a pillow.

She had no memory of this event.

Apparently, she hadn’t inherited the original host’s memories entirely—only some basic settings.

Still, she recalled that this variety show had appeared in the novel.

A cozy music program where guests sat around chatting, playing games, and singing songs that held personal meaning.

Since Pei Jiuyao was the top actress under Tianji Entertainment, she was originally supposed to be a regular.

Problem was, the original host couldn’t sing to save her life—practically tone-deaf.

Plus, the show was a slow-paced livestream series, where playing the “rival” role didn’t help much. So she hadn’t cared for it.

Chu Si was a singer, so the slot had been handed to her instead.

But the moment Pei Jiuyao heard Chi Yang would appear as a special guest, she’d pestered her manager Wen Li nonstop to get her on too.

The next day, the internet exploded. The show was slammed for inviting a tone-deaf artist to sing, and Pei Jiuyao’s past scandals resurfaced and trended all over again.

Still, her fans had plenty to say in her defense:

“She brought the traffic and you’re still complaining?”

“Without Jiuyao, would you have landed such great sponsors?”

“She’s not a pro singer—her performance was already adorable enough!”

Comments flooded in, overwhelming the show’s official account.

Just as Pei Jiuyao was catching her breath, Wen Li called.

A lazy female voice came through the line. “Xiao Pei, you were the one who rejected it before. I had to jump through hoops to secure this for you—get your ass over here and start practicing.”

She hung up before Pei Jiuyao could say a word.

Pei Jiuyao had originally planned to go find Chi Yang after waking up.

But after getting sucker-punched by two consecutive calls, she had no choice but to put on a bit of makeup and drive to the address Wen Li sent.

Inside the practice room, Wen Li was waiting.

A Beta in her thirties with sharp, angular features and a vaguely mixed-race look—honestly, she could’ve passed for a celebrity herself.

There was a lazy aura about her as she lounged on the sofa, but also an undeniable sense of authority.

She handed Pei Jiuyao a sheet of A4 paper. “Classic oldie. Super recognizable. You should be able to sing it.”

Pei Jiuyao could read sheet music, so she took it without looking.

Wen Li didn’t bother getting up. She simply lifted her eyelids slightly and said, “Go in. Just master this one song.”

Pei Jiuyao walked in, spread the sheet on the music stand, planning to breeze through one take so she could leave and find Chi Yang. Easy peasy.

But as she looked at the notes, she froze.

Why did they suddenly look so… unfamiliar?

She tried to find the key and sing the first few lines, but Wen Li—separated by a pane of glass—instantly covered her ears with a grimace of pure disdain.

Pei Jiuyao knew something was wrong.

Even if she couldn’t sing, she could hear, couldn’t she?

Why was it this bad?

Suddenly, she recalled all the strange signs—her struggle with reading, the stalling car, her unfamiliar signature…

It all pointed to one conclusion:

After transmigrating into the book, all her previous abilities had been sealed. She was now operating at the original host’s level.

Which meant: tone-deaf.

No matter how long she practiced, it would still be a public embarrassment.

She had thought she could coast on her own skills, no matter the world—but now…

She really had become just a pretty face living off others.

Anyone would find that hard to accept.

Furious, she grabbed the sheet, tossed the headphones aside, and stormed out.

“Wen-jie, I’m in no shape today. Even if I practice, it’s useless. I need a break.”

She expected a scolding, but Wen Li only stood up slowly, patted her on the shoulder, and said lazily, “Well, I did my job getting you on. The fans don’t know you’re tone-deaf. If you bomb on stage, it’s your own problem.”

She shrugged and walked out.

Clearly, Wen Li had no plans to babysit her.

Pei Jiuyao folded the sheet, scanned the room, and sighed.

Why did the original host have to drag herself into this mess with Chi Yang?

Maybe… people who are tone-deaf don’t even know they’re tone-deaf?

Head hung low, Pei Jiuyao radiated visible dejection.

The blow hit her hard. She could only sulk all the way back home.

The moment she walked in, she flopped onto the sofa like a wet rag, staring blankly out the window.

Sunlight poured in through the glass, warming the room. A beautiful day.

But it all felt irrelevant.

It was like she’d been caught in a net, trying to grab onto something through jagged barbs—only to end up bloodied and empty-handed.

No genius is free from pride. Even someone like Pei Jiuyao took pride in her rare talent.

Having it stripped away and becoming a useless, scandal-ridden nobody—who could accept that?

And to top it off, she had no one to confide in.

She buried her face in the cushions, letting out a muffled groan.

After a while, she tapped her temple. “0723?”

【7023. Thank you.】

“I don’t care if it’s 23 or 33,” Pei Jiuyao sat up. “I’ve lost all my skills. It’s like I’ve regressed. Is this your doing?”

【The host’s original skills can only be regained by completing heroine strategy tasks. Each time you max out a favorability level, you get to choose one skill—yes, it’s that user-friendly!】

Hearing “user-friendly” from some sci-fi system creature nearly made her see red.

She forced herself to stay calm. “Strategy? As in wooing the heroine?”

【Correct. Earn favorability points—ten gets you one skill. Finish the strategy and you can choose to stay or return to the main world, with one wish granted.】

Ten points didn’t sound too bad.

Pei Jiuyao frowned. “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

【Because you were being so obedient. I didn’t think external pressure was needed.】

“Pressure, huh…”

You’re unreal, Pei Jiuyao cursed inwardly.

“What’s my favorability score now?”

【Due to the temporary mark you placed on the heroine, the current score is… three.】

Only three, after a temporary mark? Chi Yang was hard to please.

“Then for my first skill, I want musical talent.”

【Musical talent recorded…】

Pei Jiuyao headed to the walk-in closet, picked out an outfit, and slipped on a mask. She squinted at herself in the mirror.

【Tch. Vain.】 7023 muttered. 【Where are you off to, host?】

“What else?” Pei Jiuyao sighed. “I’m going to win over my heroine.”

________________________________________

After parting ways with Pei Jiuyao, Chi Yang had been preoccupied with worry over Song Mo.

In the morning, she finally received a voice message from Song Mo, saying she was fine and just out having fun with friends. Only then did Chi Yang relax.

She wanted to check on her again, though.

Pei Jiuyao had said she would arrive later, so Chi Yang drove to Song Mo’s place by herself—only to find it empty again.

Instead, she was invited to stay for lunch with Song’s mother.

Throughout the meal, Chi Yang kept glancing at her phone until Auntie Song teased, “Yangyang, do you have a girlfriend?”

Chi Yang flushed with frustration. She just wanted to see if Pei Jiuyao had messaged her.

A simple, “I’m home, where are you?”—something so trivial, from someone who wasn’t even that important.

Why did she care so much?

But aside from the morning’s “I’ll be late. Make sure you eat well,” Pei Jiuyao hadn’t sent another word.

Chi Yang sighed and tossed her phone into her bag.

Later, after chatting a while longer with Auntie Song, she left. By the time she returned home, it was already dark. No lights were on in the Chi villa.

As she drove along Seventh Avenue, she instinctively rolled down the window.

The river breeze carried a salty chill, and the emptiness inside her grew.

Her heat period had long passed, but the loneliness lingered.

Loneliness soon turned to frustration.

All those sweet nothings—“I’ll protect you,” “You can trust me”—they were just Pei Jiuyao’s manipulative tricks.

She was always like this—a scoundrel through and through.

How could I have fallen for someone like that?

If not for the temporary mark Pei Jiuyao left, she would never have taken her words seriously.

Thinking this made Chi Yang resent herself for being an Omega—a creature that went into heat, that experienced the need to submit.

A creature with a submission phase.

Carrying this storm of emotion, she parked in the garage. But just as she stepped out, she saw someone standing nearby.

A sleek black Phantom was parked close by.

Pei Jiuyao leaned against the car door, wearing the same windbreaker she’d once lent to Chi Yang, paired with cargo pants and black boots. One hand held a plastic bag, the other was tucked in her coat pocket.

She stood lazily under the dim light, eyes twinkling with a soft smile.

And as the light hit her, a torrent of tenderness and obsession spilled forth.

The wind lifted her wine-red hair in waves.

That shade—it suited Pei Jiuyao perfectly. Chi Yang had known it the moment they met.

Frozen in place, Chi Yang watched her slowly approach, smiling all the way, and her heart pounded uncontrollably—wild, erratic, and utterly unguarded.