After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine (GL) - Chapter 12

The hem of her coat lifted slightly, her hair fluttered in the air. Even in the dim, shadowy garage, Pei Jiuyao was strikingly radiant.

So what if the night was long and dark, filled with secrets one could only describe as illnesses, and grief that grew wild in the shadows, never seeing daylight?

As long as a sliver of light broke through, there would be courage to grow toward it.

Chi Yang realized she had overestimated her self-control—and underestimated Pei Jiuyao’s charm.

Just a face alone was enough to secure her place at the top of the industry. Despite all the scandals, she never wavered. How could that not be attractive?

Chi Yang forcibly suppressed her rising desire.

Admiring beauty was human nature. But Chi Yang wasn’t someone who lived life relying on mere appearances.

“What are you doing here?” Chi Yang asked.

Her voice was aloof and proud as always—like an isolated island no one could ever set foot on.

Unfortunately for her, Pei Jiuyao had already witnessed every emotional shift she had, standing by while the mechanical system voice reported her favorability score rising and falling… only to return to zero again.

Chi Yang’s inner world—was truly complex.

And the drop-off was quick. What had she done to make her angry this time?

Pei Jiuyao walked up to her. “I said I will come check on you, didn’t I?”

Chi Yang shoved her hands into her coat pockets. Her expression was faint, her tone cool. “It’s already late.”

“So, it’s my fault I didn’t come earlier?”

“No,” Chi Yang remained indifferent. “Come in.”

“Wait—” Pei Jiuyao smiled, “I brought you a little gift. Consider it an apology for being late.”

Chi Yang narrowed her eyes and stood still.

Pei Jiuyao bent slightly to meet her gaze, and with a little dramatic flourish, pulled a single red rose from behind her back.

Chi Yang frowned. “Miss Pei, you really are full of tricks. But I don’t like roses.”

“Oh, really?” Pei Jiuyao twirled the rose in her hand—and suddenly, flames erupted from it.

Chi Yang instinctively took a step back. “What the—”

Before she could finish, Pei Jiuyao hooked a pendant from the fire and held it out. “Here, for you.”

Chi Yang’s lips twitched slightly before she quickly concealed the smile. She raised her eyes and gave Pei Jiuyao a sharp look. “Where did you learn all these little stunts?”

“Just watched a tutorial online.” Pei Jiuyao set the plastic bag on the ground. “May I have the honor of putting it on for Miss Chi Yang?”

Chi Yang didn’t move. Her expression remained unreadable. Her pale eyes flicked briefly before she said softly, “As you wish.”

“It’s nothing expensive, just something casual to wear.” Pei Jiuyao stepped forward and looped the necklace around Chi Yang’s neck, fastening it behind.

Her hair carried the faint scent of shampoo—clean, fresh, and unexpectedly soothing.

Pei Jiuyao couldn’t help but pause, fingers lingering on the string, head tilted closer.

Their posture was ambiguously intimate.

They weren’t actually embracing, but Chi Yang’s head tilted slightly downward, nearly brushing Pei Jiuyao’s shoulder.

Despite all the more intimate things they’d already done, Pei Jiuyao realized they had never shared a proper hug—or a kiss.

Time seemed to pause. The space between them was like an ocean or a mountain—vast, hard to cross.

Until Chi Yang said quietly, “Are you done yet?”

Pei Jiuyao snapped out of her trance, stepped back, and rubbed her brow. “All done.”

Her voice was slightly hoarse.

Chi Yang turned and walked toward the elevator. Pei Jiuyao picked up the plastic bag and followed.

“I really had something to do this morning,” she whispered once they were inside the elevator. “You’re not mad anymore, are you?” Pei Jiuyao said.

“I wasn’t mad.” Chi Yang swiped her card and pressed the ‘close door’ button. “It’s not like I asked you to come.”

She stood tall, gaze forward. Her pale skin gleamed under the cold light. The mirror reflected her sharp, frosty features—untouched and distant, as always.

“I wanted to see you,” Pei Jiuyao said, shaking the bag. “Did you eat properly while I was gone?”

Chi Yang scoffed lightly, “What, you think I would starve without you around?”

“Eating and eating well are two different things.” Pei Jiuyao said.

After exiting the elevator, Pei Jiuyao followed her into the apartment, changed shoes, and took off her coat before heading straight to the kitchen.

“You said you weren’t picky, so I just made what I’m good at.”

She put on an apron while Chi Yang washed her hands and sat on the sofa, flipping through TV channels. Likely searching for a movie. The room was dim, lit only by a few warm lamps.

Pei Jiuyao suddenly called out, playful: “Chi Yang, help me tie my apron?”

Chi Yang gave a soft grunt, tossed the remote aside, and walked over to tie the strings behind her.

Pei Jiuyao pretended to reach back and ‘accidentally’ grabbed Chi Yang’s hand.

Chi Yang pulled back instantly and glared at her.

Seeing the flushed tips of her ears in the light, Pei Jiuyao couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“You’re doing that again.” Chi Yang said bluntly.

“You looked unhappy—I was trying to cheer you up.” Pei Jiuyao smiled. “I really did have to practice singing this morning. Wen-jie insisted. I couldn’t get out of it.”

Chi Yang let out a faint snort and tied the apron with a quick knot. Then she tugged on the strings, pulling Pei Jiuyao a step back until she nearly stumbled into her.

The unexpected softness made Pei Jiuyao’s breath catch.

Chi Yang narrowed her eyes with a hint of irritation, tone slow and deliberate: “Don’t. Do. It. Again.”

“Okay…”

Pei Jiuyao was speechless for a moment, her mind full of Chi Yang’s sly, fox-like gaze.

It wasn’t until Chi Yang returned to the sofa that her chaotic heartbeat began to settle.

【Host, how did you end up being the one getting played? You’re useless.】

Pei Jiuyao washed her hands and began preparing ingredients, muttering in her mind: “What are you, my snarky livestream commentary? Get lost. Don’t come out without my permission again!”

【Hmph. I’m leaving.】

“Wait—” she paused. “Didn’t you say my skills were sealed? Why can I still cook?”

【Maybe because the original host could cook too.】7023’s voice quickly faded from her mind.

“… What a useless system.”

—

Chi Yang curled up on the sofa with a blanket and put on a random movie.

Before long, the delicious aroma from the kitchen began to drift over.

Pei Jiuyao stood at the counter, stealing a glance at Chi Yang. She watched as Chi Yang sniffed the air subtly, sneaking glances toward the kitchen.

Their eyes met, and Chi Yang quickly looked away.

Pei Jiuyao smiled and tapped the counter lightly. “Where do you want to eat? Should I bring it to the coffee table?”

Chi Yang thought for a moment, then nodded.

Pei Jiuyao laid out a dining mat and brought over the dishes. Knowing Chi Yang might need to maintain her weight for an upcoming role, she only made a small portion of whole wheat sandwiches as the main dish.

Chi Yang tossed a couple of cushions onto the carpet and sat down with her blanket. She sniffed the air. “Smells good.”

“Try it.”

Pei Jiuyao handed her some chopsticks.

The table held a few simple but tasty dishes: sweet pumpkin, bell pepper beef cubes, broccoli with egg and shrimp, and a half portion of sandwiches. Everything was colorful, appetizing, and perfectly portioned for two.

Chi Yang took a bite. To be fair—it was really good. Better than some of the overpriced restaurants she’d visited.

But her expression remained calm. She offered a faint compliment: “Not bad.”

Pei Jiuyao’s tense shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad you like it.”

She sighed inwardly in relief. At least her cooking skills hadn’t disappeared.

Using serving chopsticks, she placed more food into Chi Yang’s bowl. “I wasn’t sure if you’re on a strict diet, but I remember you mentioned wanting fish maw chicken soup. So I figured you’re not that strict.”

“I’m on break,” Chi Yang said as she naturally took another bite. “And I don’t gain weight easily, so I don’t care too much about that.”

Pei Jiuyao smiled. “That’s good.”

Chi Yang glanced at her. “Good how?”

Pei Jiuyao’s lips curled, “It means I can keep feeding you often.”

Chi Yang chuckled, “Not sure how often that’ll be.”

Then suddenly, she paused.

Pei Jiuyao fell silent too. After a moment, she sighed. “Yeah… who knows, maybe your pheromone disorder will be cured tomorrow.”

On the screen, the cheesy romance film played out yet another melodramatic farewell. The flickering light fell on Chi Yang’s face, catching the tear-streaked actress in the background.

Chi Yang ate quietly, staring intently at the screen. Then suddenly, she asked out of nowhere: “Do you want me to get better?”

“Of course,” Pei Jiuyao blurted without thinking.

Chi Yang’s gaze dropped slightly.

“I mean—” Pei Jiuyao scrambled to clarify, “Of course I want you to be well. Even if I said I want you to rely on me, it’s not because I need you to be dependent. Even if getting better means you leave me, I still want you to be okay.”

Chi Yang gave a soft “mm.”

Pei Jiuyao couldn’t tell if she was happy or annoyed again. She clammed up, back straight, appetite gone.

Chi Yang had so many unconscious little habits that made Pei Jiuyao feel needed.

But every time she tried to take another step forward, Chi Yang would push her away.

Was it really just the estrus period? Did she not feel even a little something more?

At this rate, when would the favorability score ever increase?

Pei Jiuyao idly poked at her bowl with her chopsticks, appetite fading, mood sinking like a storm cloud.

Chi Yang suddenly asked, “Is something still warming on the stove?”

“I’m making soup,” Pei Jiuyao perked up. “Radish and pork rib, with dried scallop and squid. It should be good.”

Chi Yang nodded.

“I had a feeling you liked soup.” Pei Jiuyao said.

Chi Yang said “Yeah, I do.” She bit into her sandwich, cheeks puffed like a small bun.

Pei Jiuyao couldn’t help reaching out to poke it, smiling.

Chi Yang scowled, swallowed, then snapped, “Immature.”

“Are you done eating?” Pei Jiuyao asked.

Chi Yang nodded again.

“I’ll clean up.” Pei Jiuyao stood with the plates, Chi Yang following behind with the rest.

“You can relax,” Pei Jiuyao said.

“It’s fine. There’s a dishwasher.”

While the dishwasher hummed, Pei Jiuyao waited for the soup. Chi Yang stood nearby, watching her silently—looking oddly obedient, if not for her usual cold expression.

Chi Yang, a girl who should’ve grown up protected, had fought alone in the entertainment industry since her teens.

She refused to let the weight of her family legacy dictate her future, so she hid her heart away, lashing out at anyone who dared get close.

But in the end, she was soft as cotton. Even toward someone like Pei Jiuyao, she couldn’t muster any real malice.

Living like this… must be exhausting.

Voices from the living room echoed faintly. Pei Jiuyao said, “Go watch the movie.”

“I missed the beginning—I won’t get it.” Chi Yang leaned her arms on the bar, staring at the soup pot unblinking.

“You’re that eager to drink it? It might not even be any good. You’ll be disappointed.” Pei Jiuyao said.

“I’m not eager. Just watching.” She paused. “Nothing better to do anyway.” Chi Yang replied.

Pei Jiuyao gently tapped Chi Yang’s head with her knuckle, laughing. “Go pick another movie. We’ll watch together in a bit.”

Chi Yang glared. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Still, she walked over to the sofa, turned off the movie, and started flipping through options with the remote.

The entire living room was bathed in warm yellow light. Pei Jiuyao had kept the kitchen dim to avoid disturbing her. The floor-to-ceiling windows outside showed only endless navy darkness.

Chi Yang fiddled with the remote, trying to make small talk. “I used to live alone all the time. It’s actually kind of nice having someone around for once.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah. A long time ago, it was always just me.” Chi Yang said sadly.

Pei Jiuyao recalled how Chi Yang’s two mothers had passed away when she was young. She had a strained relationship with her sister too. She really had been alone most of her life.

“And you?” Chi Yang, perhaps sensing she was getting too sentimental, shifted the topic. “Do you like living alone?”

Pei Jiuyao leaned on the bar and answered, “Not really. It’s fine once in a while, but over time… the silence starts to feel oppressive.”

“I remember your relationship with your family wasn’t great either. So you live alone too?” Chi Yang asked..

The original host’s background was indeed bleak—a sick sister, a gambling-addicted mother, and a severed relationship after entering the industry.

Pei Jiuyao hesitated, then said, “If you want someone around…”

She wasn’t sure if now was the right time—but still, she asked:
“Do you want me to move in with you?”