After the Scummy Alpha Marked the Crazy Beautiful Heroine (GL) - Chapter 21.1

Meng Yu stood up, gave Pei Jiuyao a cool glance, and said, “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Pei Jiuyao nodded politely.

Once she sat down, Chi Yang took a small sip of champagne and asked quietly, “What’s with the crazy act this time?”

“I heard her pheromone smells a lot like mine?”

Chi Yang snorted, “How would I know what someone else’s pheromone smells like? You should be asking yourself that…”

She paused, then pushed the glass in her hand toward Pei Jiuyao. “Your dear Chu Si picked this out. Said it smells exactly like your pheromone—down to the last note.”

Pei Jiuyao took the glass and sipped from it.

Chi Yang’s ears turned red in an instant, her tone flustered and annoyed. “Why are you drinking from my glass?!”

Pei Jiuyao blinked. “I thought you were offering it to me.”

“…Forget it.” Chi Yang folded her arms, choosing not to argue.

“If you like it, I can ask her where she bought it,” Pei Jiuyao offered casually, taking another sip.

“I don’t like it.” Chi Yang replied bluntly.

Chi Yang whipped her head around, narrowing her eyes at Pei Jiuyao. In that moment, the bonfire behind them flared up, and the flames reflected in both their eyes.

Her lashes quivered slightly as she gave a cold laugh. “Fine. Maybe I’ll never need your teeth again anyway. Champagne suits me better.”

Then she added sharply, “So this is all Pei Jiuyao’s worth? Squeezed dry by a single glass of champagne? Pathetic.”

“I was wrong…”

But before Pei Jiuyao could finish apologizing, the director’s countdown began in the distance.

The words caught in her throat, stuck, and eventually swallowed down.

After that, Pei Jiuyao went through the rest of the show in a daze, responding absentmindedly.

Thankfully, aside from the occasional olive branch from Chu Si, the others largely left her alone.

After a while, a crew member came to whisper in her ear—her performance slot, the finale, was coming up. Time to head backstage.

Just before she left, Pei Jiuyao glanced back at Chi Yang. Chi Yang turned to look at her too.

In the blind spot of the cameras, Pei Jiuyao mouthed the words “Wait for me.” Then she turned and left.

Chi Yang’s gaze lingered a moment before falling back into place.

“Actually, Xiao Pei is tone-deaf,” Chu Si said from beside her, having appeared at some point. “Takes me dozens of repetitions just to get her to hit the right key.”

Chi Yang stared coldly at the stage, saying nothing.

“I honestly don’t know why she insists on competing with you. It’s like hurting herself just to scratch someone else.”

Chu Si squinted, chuckling. “But I like that about her—so full of pride. Doesn’t care if she wins or loses, but she has to try anyway.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Though to Senior Chi Yang, that probably just seems childish and ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

The performer on stage finished their song.

Pei Jiuyao stepped into view—dressed in an oversized black suit, sitting on a tall stool center stage.

Her legs were long, one planted firmly on the ground, the other propped on a rung of the stool. She adjusted the mic with both hands.

Her burgundy hair draped over her shoulders, makeup minimal. Her eyes sparkled under the firelight in the distance.

She looked up and gave Chi Yang a gentle smile.

“This is an original song. For someone I like.”

As her calm gaze swept across the audience, the crowd fell utterly silent.

Her low, mellow voice slowly melted into the night, stretching time into something languid and eternal.

She looked at Chi Yang’s eyes as she sang about your eyes. Looked at her lips as she sang your lips. Her gaze began to blur as her lips whispered: your wild, unspeakable desire.

Chi Yang’s lashes trembled. She bit her lip slightly. Her glassy eyes shimmered as the melody pulled her into a dreamlike trance.

Make a specimen of you, hide you in a dream.

Split the galaxy, fall like a meteor.

The final heavy drumbeat hit like a punch to the chest. Pei Jiuyao stood, singing:

Crash my soul into your long, long life.

As the verse ended, the drums grew fierce—crashing like a storm, shaking every inch of the stage. Under flashing lights, her fingers danced across the electric guitar like a phantom.

Chi Yang thought she smelled that sharp, familiar pheromone again—but stronger now, almost violent. Its oppressive weight laced with a cloying hint of neroli, leaving her breathless.

Then came Pei Jiuyao’s husky, magnetic voice:

Half a heart, torn and struggling—

Drowning in your body heat.

Her body temperature spiked.

Stars blanketed the sky. The ground beneath them stretched into a vast wilderness.

I want to take you far from Earth,

roam through fantasies unrestrained.

Give you mountains and seas—

even if I’m only a flickering spark.

The guitar roared into its climax, a piano crashing behind it. The galaxy spread wide beneath her feet.

Pei Jiuyao’s voice burned under the open night:

But above the wasteland,

darkness soaked the moon—

Everything else seemed to disappear. Only the urgent beat of the drums remained. Only Pei Jiuyao’s voice remained.

Her fingers paused slightly as she gripped the mic:

Swallowing all my fevered, violent delusions.

A sea breeze blew through, scattering Chi Yang’s hair and the mist in her eyes.

Before her lay a vast wilderness, tangled lights, and shifting shadows.

After a sustained line and a quiet breakdown, the electric guitar transformed—becoming a net that wrapped around every inch of skin, slow and tender, sweetly entangled.

Pei Jiuyao’s voice was soft, yet defiant:

I crossed mountains and seas

just to see your tender gaze.

The evening wind melts into the ocean.

Her voice kissed the soul.

Electric currents flowed gently into the night, the beat sinking like stones into the sea.

The climax ended in stillness.

A second later, thunderous applause erupted. Even the crew couldn’t help but join in.

By the end of the song, sweat dotted Pei Jiuyao’s brow.

Her cheeks were faintly flushed. Her eyes shimmered like broken stars behind a veil of tears, scattering light in Chi Yang’s direction.

Chi Yang blinked. As the crowd dispersed amid applause, she unconsciously began walking toward the stage, toward Pei Jiuyao.

“Ms. Pei, that was incredible—like a professional singer!”

“That performance should go down in music show history!”

A few scattered staff members came over to praise her, even the director wore an expression of open admiration.

“That stage arrangement just now was explosive! The electric guitar at the end layered over the drums almost blew out my eardrums!”

Several performers who weren’t familiar with Pei Jiuyao also came over to greet her.

After exchanging a few polite words, Pei Jiuyao searched for Chi Yang in the crowd and jogged over toward her.

The salty, bitter sea breeze brushed past her ears, carrying with it the sound of applause and cheers like a roaring tide.

Everything around her blurred into irregular lines—Pei Jiuyao’s eyes only held the figure of Chi Yang.

She fought back the urge to embrace her and walked a few steps forward.

A soft pink petal landed on Chi Yang’s shoulder. Pei Jiuyao reached out, plucked it off, and curled it into her palm.

“It was beautiful,” Chi Yang said before Pei Jiuyao could even open her mouth, her praise spilling out. “Truly beautiful.”

Light shimmered in her eyes, and within her pale irises, there was only Pei Jiuyao.

In that moment, Pei Jiuyao wanted to kiss her—desperately.

She closed her eyes gently, and when she opened them again, she summoned the strength to say,

“Good thing you didn’t let me drown.”

“I’m really happy today, Chi Yang.” Pei Jiuyao said happily.

Chi Yang stepped closer, lifting her hand toward Pei Jiuyao—her fingertips just about to touch the corner of her lips.

Someone called out from behind, “Chi Yang-jie, Producer Chen wants a word with you.”

Her fingers trembled slightly. She lowered her voice and said, “Wait for me in the dressing room.”

“Okay.” Pei Jiuyao tilted her head ever so slightly in response.

On her way back, she took off her jacket and handed it to Jiang Tian.

She wasn’t sure if it was from the adrenaline rush just now, but her body felt slightly off—especially the gland at the back of her neck, which throbbed with heat and pain.

She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, irritation creeping into her mood.

Rubbing the back of her neck roughly, she adjusted the setting on her wristband.

Halfway there, she ran into Chu Si.

“Just a few words, Xiao Pei. Don’t keep brushing me off like this,” Chu Si said with her usual unserious air.

Pei Jiuyao stopped and maintained her distance. “If it’s not about that matter, then we have nothing to talk about.”

“Why so fierce?” Chu Si glanced at Jiang Tian and softened her tone. “Fine, let’s talk about that then.”

Pei Jiuyao patted Jiang Tian on the shoulder. “Wait for me in the dressing room.”

Once Jiang Tian had left, Chu Si led her around a corner.

She gave a helpless smile. “So you’re warm and friendly to assistants now, but I’m the only one getting the cold shoulder?”

“Who was it?” Pei Jiuyao asked directly.

“Don’t rush,” Chu Si looked up at her. “You were mad at me about Song Mo last time. So tell me—do you actually like Song Mo or Chi Yang?”

“You stared at Chi Yang the entire time you were singing today. You really do throw your friends under the bus for beauty.”

A trace of exaggerated grievance curled at the corner of her eyes.

“Did Chi Yang teach you that? How long has she been coaching you to sing like that? Must be some bedroom lessons, huh…”

“That’s enough.” Pei Jiuyao said bluntly.

Pei Jiuyao’s patience wore thin. “If you’re not going to tell me anything useful, I’m leaving.”

She thought she caught a whiff of Chu Si’s pheromones—provocative and low-key aggressive—enough to give her a headache.

“Don’t go. I’ve found out,” Chu Si said, raising her arm slightly to block her way. “It was an Omega. God knows what got into her—she actually tried to climb into your bed that night.”

“She probably thought you wouldn’t care, as long as she was good-looking. At worst, you would be a little grumpy when you woke up.”

Chu Si rubbed her nose with a bitter laugh. “I’ll hand her over to you when we get back.”

The back of Pei Jiuyao’s neck was burning with discomfort. She instinctively adjusted her wristband again, only to realize it was already set to maximum.

“Fine.” Her impatience was palpable. “If that’s all—”

“But seriously, Pei Jiuyao, what are you even doing now?”

Chu Si let out a soft chuckle. “You were the one who said you will drug Song Mo. You were the one who wanted to disgust Chi Yang. And now you’re the one pretending to be the good guy. Chi Yang is really too forgiving.”

“She’s not afraid you’re just playing her? That you failed to get Song Mo, so now you’re turning the same manipulative tricks on Chi Yang? Honestly, I didn’t know you were that good an actress.”

Pei Jiuyao frowned and was just about to respond when—

Snap.

The sound of something being stepped on.

Pei Jiuyao instantly sobered up. Chu Si moved first, darting out. The two of them only caught a retreating figure.

After a few steps, Chu Si stopped, turned back with a smirk, and said, “Oh, it’s Chi Yang.”

—

“Producer Chen.” Chi Yang walked in and took a seat on the sofa across from her, idly scrolling through her phone.

【Oh my god, I knew Jiuyao was hiding her talent!

Anyone still got doubts?

Pei haters, explain this—does my goddess not have musical talent?

Face of a goddess + musical genius, who else but her…】