Failed to Run Away After Transmigrating as the Scummy Alpha's Wife of the Villain - Chapter 14

The small yellow lamp by the bedside cast a faint glow on the disheveled woman’s profile.

 

 

With one hand covering Jiang Wan’s mouth, the woman pressed a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture.

 

 

Jiang Wan swatted Momo’s hand away, gasping as she glared angrily. “Wu Jiayi, what the hell is wrong with you?”

 

 

Who in their right mind would lurk by someone’s bedside in the middle of the night just to scare them?

 

 

Momo chuckled, flicking the long hair that had fallen onto Jiang Wan’s face aside. “Just wanted to see if you were awake—figured we could chat.”

 

 

Jiang Wan: “Couldn’t you just call me like a normal person? You shoved your entire face right in front of mine—I nearly had a heart attack!”

 

 

Momo shrugged, straightening up. “Too bad Miss Jiang is perfectly healthy, with no heart conditions—or so-called allergies, for that matter.”

 

 

Jiang Wan tensed but kept her expression neutral. “What are you talking about? You saw my allergic reaction yourself, I—”

 

 

“Oh, you mean these mosquito bites?” She poked at the marks on Jiang Wan’s arm, smirking. “Or these scratches you made yourself? Real allergic reactions don’t look like this. At least put some effort into faking it.”

 

 

Jiang Wan pulled her arm back, sitting up to meet Momo’s gaze head-on. “What exactly are you getting at?”

 

 

“Nothing much,” Momo said, covering a light laugh before pausing. “Just wondering… do you hate Jiang Ci?”

 

 

Jiang Wan narrowed her eyes at her, the dim yellow light flickering across her shifting expression.

 

 

After a long moment, understanding seemed to dawn on her. The corners of her lips curled slowly into an ambiguous smile. “What if I do?”

 

 

“Then… want to team up with me?”

 

 

Jiang Wan’s grin widened. “Didn’t take you for the scheming type.”

 

 

Momo: “I’m sure you don’t want Jiang Ci becoming village head either.”

 

 

Jiang Wan: “Hmm… I really don’t. But why should I work with you? Honestly, I kind of hate you too.”

 

 

Momo’s eyes darkened, their depths unfathomable in the dim room.

 

 

“Fine,” she offered smoothly. “If I succeed in becoming village head, I’ll let you draft the privilege rules.”

 

 

If she couldn’t be village head, securing control over the rules wasn’t a bad consolation.

 

 

Jiang Wan: “Deal. So, how do we do this?”

 

 

Momo blinked. “Tomorrow is Jiang Ci’s trial day as a candidate. If something goes wrong while she’s acting as village head, she’ll be disqualified.”

 

 

“Just follow my lead tomorrow. Not only will she lose the position, but once the episode airs, she’ll get torn apart online—her reputation will be ruined.”

 

 

Jiang Wan nodded skeptically before pulling the covers back over herself, muttering, “Didn’t think anyone was more obsessed with becoming village head than me. I’m exhausted—can’t wait for this stupid show to end.”

 

 

The light went out. Momo lay beside Jiang Wan, staring at the woman’s silhouette in the dark, her gaze icy.

 

 

Not everyone was as lucky as them, blessed with endless resources to waste.

 

 

She had fought tooth and nail just for a chance to appear on Peach and Plum Village. There was no way she’d go back quietly after making zero impact.

 

 

 

The next morning, Chi Yuan stretched lazily in bed as she gradually woke up, only to find Jiang Ci, who had been sleeping beside her, already gone.

 

 

She rolled around for a bit before remembering—before falling asleep, Jiang Ci had mentioned that she was on duty as village head today and planned to get up early to make breakfast for everyone.

 

 

Out of habit, Chi Yuan grabbed her phone, intending to scroll through Weibo before fully getting up. But then she suddenly sat bolt upright and rushed out the door, not even bothering to put on shoes.

 

 

The clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen, and soon after, the sweet, mouthwatering aroma of food wafted through the air, luring hungry souls to investigate.

 

 

Chi Yuan ran a hand through her short, ear-length hair, not caring about appearances as she barged into the kitchen. Flipping through her phone, she asked Jiang Ci, “What’s going on?”

 

 

Her screen was paused on Jiang Ci’s Weibo homepage.

 

 

The pinned post at the top contained just four simple words: “Just an accident.”

 

 

The accompanying photo was the one from yesterday—her and Jiang Ci leaning against the restaurant balcony with the sea and sky stretching endlessly behind them.

 

 

Following yesterday’s “Jiang Ci got kissed,” “Jiang Ci responds,” and “Jiang Ci just an accident” had all trended on Weibo, turning the platform into a lively battleground of wild speculation.

 

 

“Three minutes—I need all the info on the woman next to Jiang Ci.”

 

 

“Jiang Ci personally clarifying? Now that’s true love.”

 

 

“Acting so intimate—are they pushing a CP angle? Did Peach Blossom Village accidentally get the script for a dating show?”

 

 

“Pfft—don’t you know how these shows operate? They deliberately edit for drama to hype it up. And fans just eat it up.”

 

 

“The real reason for the ‘accident’ will definitely come out in the official episode. Stop jumping to conclusions and just watch the show, okay?”

 

 

“So who is that short-haired woman anyway? She’s so pretty and tall—she doesn’t look out of place next to Jiang Ci at all.”

 

 

“Breaking news—never seen her in the entertainment industry before. Probably just a regular civilian.”

 

 

“A civilian that good-looking? More like a trainee from some agency waiting to debut.”

 

 

After a day of swirling rumors, Jiang Ci’s morning clarification had completely shifted public opinion. No one was criticizing Chi Yuan anymore—instead, more people had grown curious about her true identity.

 

 

Jiang Ci glanced at the screen and said nonchalantly, “It’s exactly what you see.”

 

 

Her reaction was so indifferent that Chi Yuan became the anxious one. “But… didn’t the production team say everything would clear up naturally once the episode aired?”

 

 

“Hmm… I was just a little annoyed.” Jiang Ci shrugged. “Everything I said was the truth. What, afraid I’ll offend the production team?”

 

 

Given Jiang Ci’s A-list status as one of the hottest actresses in the industry, she had no reason to fear clashing with a variety show’s production team. But the show had just started airing—there was no telling if they’d retaliate by cutting her screen time or editing her scenes unfairly.

 

 

In short, stepping forward to clarify now brought Jiang Ci no benefits, only risks.

 

 

Jiang Ci: “It was the production team’s fault. No reason for you to take the blame.”

 

 

“I discussed it with my team last night. There won’t be any major fallout. The production team didn’t say anything either—they probably accepted it.”

 

 

“Of course,” she added at the end, “I didn’t do this for you. I just wanted to tell my fans the truth so they wouldn’t get misled by those gossip accounts.”

 

 

Chi Yuan, noticing Jiang Ci’s reddening earlobes, chuckled and tapped her phone lightly. “Then I’ll have to thank Teacher Jiang for her noble sense of justice.”

 

 

Jiang Ci ladled a bowl of plain congee for her. “Enough with the sarcasm. You were the one whining about wanting congee last night.”

 

 

 

Chi Yuan gave a little chuckle as she took it, sitting on a chair nearby with her bowl while watching Jiang Ci bustle about. A fleeting thought crossed her mind—it felt like the daily life of a newlywed couple.

 

 

Today’s mission in Hometown of Peach and Plum was an outdoor werewolf game, with the entire island as the playing field.

 

 

Each participant would draw an identity card, which included three villagers, three werewolves, and three special roles: the Seer, the Witch, and the Hunter.

 

 

If the villagers successfully voted out all three werewolves, the villagers would win. Conversely, if the werewolves managed to kill three villagers, the werewolves would win.

 

 

“Those who die cannot leave last words.”

 

 

“Werewolves also have hidden identities. Every twenty minutes, the werewolves take turns killing—be careful not to mistakenly kill your own.”

 

 

Meanwhile, multiple game stations were randomly set up across the island. Finding and completing these mini-games would provide clues about the werewolves’ identities.

 

 

Each game station only offered one clue.

 

 

So, in a situation where identities were unclear, even werewolves could protect their own identities or find fellow werewolves by completing these games.

 

 

After a werewolf killed someone, the Seer could check one player’s identity.

 

 

“Lastly, a friendly reminder: unless absolutely necessary, do not reveal your identity card.”

 

 

“Anyone in the game could be lying—don’t trust others too easily.”

 

 

Chi Yuan tapped the table lightly with her fingers, resting her chin on her other hand as she watched people come and go from the interview room.

 

 

Every guest who emerged held a pure black identity card, their expressions either pleased or troubled—but it was impossible to tell if they were genuine or just acting.

 

 

Chi Yuan felt troubled.

 

 

She had never been good at these brain-burning games.

 

 

Back in college, she often flitted between dorm rooms and participated in large-scale werewolf games with multiple dorms. But the experience was never pleasant.

 

 

Either she died without a clue, or she couldn’t keep up the act and got voted out in the first round.

 

 

Zero sense of accomplishment.

 

 

After several rounds, the phrase she said the most was still—I’m a good person.

 

 

A certified game disaster.

 

 

With trepidation, Chi Yuan entered the interview room. On the table facing the door sat a familiar ballot box.

 

 

A mechanical voice sounded from the speaker: “Guest Chi Yuan, please draw your identity card.”

 

 

“Sigh—I hope I get a simple villager card that won’t drag the team down. I really don’t know how to play; I’ll just follow the crowd.”

 

 

But fate had other plans. Chi Yuan stared at the identity card in her hand—the Witch, holding two potions, smirking coldly and devilishly at her.

 

 

She silently lit a candle for her teammates.

 

 

Sorry, your useless teammate is about to join the game.

 

 

Of all things, she had to draw the Witch card—in her mind, the second hardest role to play after the Seer.

 

 

Who to save? Who to poison? Without a clear grasp of everyone’s identities, she might just end up taking both potions straight to her grave.

 

 

Jiang Ci entered after Chi Yuan and, seeing her gloomy expression, couldn’t resist teasing her. “What? Did you draw a special role?”

 

 

Chi Yuan’s shocked expression was impossible to hide—it was like she had “How did you know?” written all over her face.

 

 

Jiang Ci burst into laughter at her utterly transparent reaction, bending over in amusement.

 

 

She’s so easy to fool—one little scare and she gives it all away.

 

 

Patting Chi Yuan’s shoulder, she said, “Just wait—big sis will carry you.”

 

 

Chi Yuan: “What if we’re not on the same team?”

 

 

 

Jiang Ci shrugged and brushed past Chi Yuan, his lazy, seductive voice tickling her eardrums, “Then you’re on your own, little bunny.”

 

 

Chi Yuan: …