Failed to Run Away After Transmigrating as the Scummy Alpha's Wife of the Villain - Chapter 20 Part 1

The dressing room was in complete chaos. The rolling clothes racks had been shoved aside, and various makeup tools were scattered across the floor. As Chi Yuan stepped inside, she noticed a large bouquet of pink roses lying by the entrance.

 

 

The flowers had been meticulously arranged, each bloom vibrant and dewy, with crystal-clear droplets still clinging to the petals. Yet, seemingly thrown down violently by their owner, the blossoms had scattered, displaying their most beautiful form in decay.

 

 

Xiao Wang, the staff member who had escorted Jiang Ci to the dressing room, sat on the floor with disheveled hair and tear-streaked cheeks—the source of the earlier scream. Her eyes were wide with panic, fixed on the innermost changing stall. She clutched her left arm tightly with her right hand, and Chi Yuan’s sharp eyes caught the faint traces of bl00d seeping through her fingers—clearly injured.

 

 

“Where’s Jiang Ci?” Chi Yuan demanded.

 

 

Xiao Wang sobbed and pointed shakily toward the back with her injured hand. “Someone—someone attacked with a knife! Teacher Jiang… Teacher Jiang is still in there!”

 

 

Chi Yuan strode forward. As she passed through the wardrobe area, she heard heavy thuds—kicks against a door—and a rough male voice snarling, “Come out! Get out here now!”

 

 

Her fists clenched, her expression darkening like storm clouds. A violent fury erupted inside her.

 

 

The man kicking the door appeared to be in his thirties, wearing a black mask and cap that obscured most of his face. The only visible part—his eyes—burned with unmistakable malice.

 

 

When the door remained unyielding, his movements grew more frantic. He began ramming it with his shoulder.

 

 

“Still not opening up? Jiang Ci! Once I get in, you’re finished!”

 

 

A flash of cold steel—his right hand gripped a red-handled fruit knife, its blade smeared with faint red stains. The sight made Chi Yuan’s bl00d boil.

 

 

She didn’t know if Jiang Ci was hurt. All she knew was—this wouldn’t end peacefully.

 

 

The man’s shoulder ached from the repeated impacts. Just as he switched sides, an immense force suddenly yanked him backward by his denim jacket.

 

 

He spun around in shock, only to see a woman. Instantly, his gaze turned dismissive.

 

 

Easy prey.

 

 

But to his surprise, her strength was overwhelming—dragging him as effortlessly as plucking a chick. He tried to pull back but couldn’t move an inch, helpless as Chi Yuan hauled him away.

 

 

He had no idea the storm that was coming.

 

 

Chi Yuan: “Alright, here’s good. The dressing room’s too cramped—not enough space to work with.”

 

 

She released him, tilting her head with a sweet smile that didn’t reach her icy eyes.

 

 

“Tch, meddling b1tch.” The man’s face twisted with aggression. He raised the knife still clenched in his hand and slashed toward Chi Yuan’s face.

 

 

She dodged with swift, precise movements, then countered with a sharp punch straight to his unprotected gut.

 

 

The man staggered back in pain, but Chi Yuan closed the distance in an instant, seizing his left wrist in a crushing grip.

 

 

A sharp twist—his agonized screams filled the air.

 

 

“Huh? That hurts? I barely squeezed, and you can’t take it?” Chi Yuan’s grin was eerie, her entire aura radiating menace.

 

 

“Then how are you going to handle what comes next?”

 

 

The man howled, wildly swinging his knife with his free hand, his threats slurred through pain. “Let go! You wanna lose that pretty face? I’ll carve you up just the same!”

 

 

 

“Also?”

 

 

Chi Yuan sneered, increasing the force in her grip. With her other hand now free, she threw punches without restraint, pummeling the man until he howled in pain.

 

 

The man was clearly all bark and no bite—no real fighting skills to speak of, just a coward who relied on weapons to bully women.

 

 

After just a few hits, his face was already a mess. A bruised and swollen lip dripped bl00d, mixing with snot and tears in a revolting, ugly display.

 

 

When he touched the bl00d on his face, panic set in. Realizing he was no match for Chi Yuan, he tried to flee. But she blocked his path, mercilessly beating him back.

 

 

“Tch, how boring. Look at you—such a big guy, yet you can’t even take a few hits.”

 

 

Chi Yuan shook out her hand before kicking the now-defeated man into the corner. Her sneaker-clad foot pressed down on his stomach, pinning him so thoroughly he couldn’t even crawl away.

 

 

The knife slipped from his grasp at some point, leaving him utterly powerless—reduced to a whimpering, pathetic mess beneath her foot.

 

 

But—

 

 

Chi Yuan didn’t stop.

 

 

The mocking amusement on her face vanished in an instant. The fake smile disappeared, leaving behind a cold, expressionless mask. Yet her eyes burned with a bloodthirsty cruelty, sharp as ice, piercing straight through him.

 

 

Terrified, the man shrank back, watching in horror as that demonic face leaned closer.

 

 

The sound of fists meeting flesh echoed through the empty locker room, punctuated by his agonized cries. His pleas for mercy soon faded into weak, pained whimpers.

 

 

The system was stunned by this side of Chi Yuan, only snapping out of it after a long moment. It urgently shouted in her mind: Enough! Enough! You’ll kill him at this rate! Chi Yuan! Chi Yuan!

 

 

But the surge of brutality and cold-bloodedness drowned out all reason. She felt as if she had fallen into an endless abyss—only by unleashing this violence could she claw her way back to the world above.

 

 

How long had it been since she last felt like this?

 

 

The familiar scent of bl00d filled her nose, the noise flooding her ears once more.

 

 

“Hit it! Smash it! Hurry up!”

 

 

“Use a rock, use a rock! It’s running over there!”

 

 

“Hey, it’s not moving anymore… Did it die?”

 

 

“Man, it didn’t even take that many hits…”

 

 

A dying cat lay quietly by the flower bed, its once-white fur now matted with dirt, wounds oozing bl00d in dark red streaks.

 

 

The golden collar around its neck, adorned with a pretty bow, bore the clumsily engraved name “Qiqi.” But it was now covered in dust from its desperate struggle to escape.

 

 

A group of boys, their hands stained with bl00d, poked at the cat with rocks.

 

 

The cat let out a pitiful mewl, its glassy amber eyes brimming with tears—pleading silently for mercy.

 

 

But—

 

 

The boys didn’t stop.

 

 

“It’s not dead yet! A few more hits should do it.”

 

 

“Let me! Let me!”

 

 

Just as one boy raised his rock to strike, a girl suddenly rushed over and shoved him to the ground.

 

 

“Ow—what the hell?!”

 

 

“It’s that freakishly strong girl from the Chi family!”

 

 

“The freak girl hit someone! The freak girl hit someone!”

 

 

 

Several boys rushed forward, attempting to stop the girl who was delivering a one-sided “beating,” but they couldn’t pull her away. Instead, they were shoved aside by the girl’s strength.

 

 

They were frozen in place by Chi Yuan’s terrifying aura, only snapping out of it when they heard the beaten boy’s cries. They quickly ran off to call for adults.

 

 

This was the first incident that led to Chi Yuan being diagnosed with violent and manic tendencies.

 

 

In their small town, news like this spread in less than a day.

 

 

After that, labels like “freakishly strong girl” and “violent girl” stuck firmly to Chi Yuan. Neighboring parents would warn their children to stay away from her—no interaction, no talking.

 

 

Because she was a crazy lunatic.

 

 

But back then, little Chi Yuan, holding the lifeless kitten in her arms, looked up dazedly at her mother.

 

 

“When will Qiqi wake up?”

 

 

“Xiao Yuan, tell the doctor right now that you won’t use violence anymore, that you won’t bully other kids. Tell the doctor.”

 

 

“Mom, when will Qiqi wake up?”

 

 

“Doctor, how could my child possibly have violent tendencies? She’s still young—she didn’t mean to hit anyone.”

 

 

“Mom, Qiqi—”

 

 

“Chi Yuan,” the girl’s repeated questions were finally cut off as her exhausted mother raised her voice for the first time, “Qiqi is already dead. If you like cats, we can get another one later.”

 

 

“But you can’t hurt other children because of Qiqi. A cat is just a cat.”

 

 

Then the woman turned back to the doctor, pleading, “She’s supposed to start elementary school next year. If she has to carry this record for the rest of her life, her future will be ruined.”

 

 

The doctor glanced at Chi Yuan, who remained silent with her head lowered, adjusted his glasses, their lenses reflecting a cold gleam, and added one final note to the symptom description.

 

 

“Cold-blooded. Lacks reverence for life.”

 

 

Violence is a bad thing.

 

 

This was something Chi Yuan’s mother had drilled into her since she could remember. Of course, it wasn’t wrong—harming others is unacceptable, and friendly interaction is the proper way to handle relationships.

 

 

So when they moved to another city for middle school, Chi Yuan never told anyone about her unnatural strength.

 

 

Until she met the person who would shape the rest of her life.

 

 

Her first boxing coach, Zhang Yan.

 

 

Zhang Yan was a retired professional boxer, thirty-five years old, who ran a boxing gym on the second floor of a commercial building next to City No. 1 High School, teaching kids how to box.

 

 

Back then, the boxing craze hadn’t fully taken off in China, and Chi Yuan’s only impression of the sport came from TV—two burly, shirtless men clumsily swinging gloved fists at each other.

 

 

Brutal, violent, devoid of any grace.

 

 

Because so few were interested, the boxing gym had only a handful of members, all boys who’d signed up to show off in front of girls.

 

 

So joining the gym and meeting the coach happened purely by chance.

 

 

Next to the boxing gym in the commercial building was an arts and crafts studio, offering sculpting, painting, and other artistic activities.

 

 

Hoping to cultivate refinement in her daughter, Chi Yuan’s mother had enrolled her in calligraphy, tea ceremony, flower arrangement, and now oil painting classes—all in pursuit of a “ladylike” lifestyle.

 

 

 

However, lacking artistic talent meant just that. Chi Yuan looked at the distorted human figure with grotesque limbs on the drawing paper, fell silent for a moment, then tore it off in frustration, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash.

 

 

The art teacher quietly comforted her, saying this was just the beginning and that she would improve with practice—hard work could surpass natural talent.

 

 

Chi Yuan believed it, but when she later encountered art appreciation, she fell into self-doubt again.

 

 

What the hell? How could anyone even tell if these paintings were good or bad?

 

 

It truly proved the saying that art has no single standard.

 

 

Chi Yuan gave up completely. If she couldn’t even grasp basic aesthetics, how could she ever create anything worthwhile?

 

 

So after some thought, she dropped her paintbrush and skipped class.

 

 

Just as she stepped out of the art studio, she saw a woman pulling a handcart, its wheels rumbling as it rolled past her.

 

 

The four wheels scraped against the polished floor tiles, occasionally jolting under the weight of its heavy load.

 

 

Chi Yuan recognized that the cart was carrying what looked like four or five boxing sandbags—some black, some red—each over a meter long, crammed onto the small cart with barely any room to spare.

 

 

Watching as the topmost sandbag slowly slid off and dragged along the ground, she quickly ran over and hoisted it up.

 

 

“Excuse me, your sandbag fell.”

 

 

The woman pulling the cart turned around, momentarily surprised. “Young lady, you’re quite strong.”

 

 

Chi Yuan inwardly panicked and nervously set the sandbag down, then pretended to rub her shoulder. “It is pretty heavy. My shoulder’s already sore from just holding it for a bit.”

 

 

The woman chuckled knowingly. “Whether your shoulder is sore or not, I can tell at a glance. Lifting a sandbag that easily—for someone your age, that’s extraordinary strength.”

 

 

Embarrassed, Chi Yuan scratched her head and turned to leave, only for the woman to call her back.

 

 

She pulled a flyer from her bag and handed it over. “You’ve got real talent for boxing. Ever thought about learning?”

 

 

Chi Yuan hastily waved her hands. “No thanks. I’m not really into violent sports.”

 

 

“Violent?” The woman shook her head with a laugh. “Boxing isn’t about violence. It doesn’t hurt anyone—it’s about meeting a worthy opponent and finding ways to win. The thrill of it goes far beyond just brute force.”

 

 

“If you’re free now, I could take you to the boxing gym and show you what it’s really about.”

 

 

She wasn’t sure which part of the woman’s words struck a chord, but somehow, Chi Yuan found herself agreeing.

 

 

From then on, she embarked on a path she had never imagined—one that strayed far from the refined, ladylike life her mother had hoped for.

 

 

Everything seemed to be turning for the better, yet her violent, manic episodes remained, an inescapable shadow that refused to fade.

 

 

On the eve of an important international competition, Chi Yuan became the subject of sports headlines, labeled with terms like “violent outbursts,” “assaulting teammates,” and “psychological disorder.”

 

 

No matter how she explained, the negative publicity snowballed, with endless streams of rumors—some true, some fabricated.

 

 

In the end, she was suspended, barred from any boxing competitions for a full year.

 

 

When she wasn’t having an episode, she was perfectly normal. But when it struck, she became an outright madwoman.

 

 

Maybe deep down, she was just a cold-blooded, violent psychopath.

 

 

Beyond saving.

 

 

 

In this moment of utter darkness, a sliver of light suddenly broke through.

 

 

A familiar voice rang out urgently, “Chi Yuan! Chi Yuan!”

 

 

“Stop hitting him! Calm down!”

 

 

Chi Yuan’s fist, mid-swing, was yanked back by a hand from behind.

 

 

She turned her head coldly and saw Jiang Ci’s face, etched with worry. But after just a glance, she pulled her hand back with indifference and resumed her assault.

 

 

Jiang Ci swallowed hard, stung by the unfamiliar, distant look in Chi Yuan’s eyes. She could feel the loneliness and fury radiating from Chi Yuan, isolating her from the entire world—barring anyone from trespassing.

 

 

“It’s over now, Chi Yuan. It’s over.” Heart aching, Jiang Ci opened her arms and pressed her warm body against Chi Yuan’s back, holding her tightly—so tightly—embracing this terrifying yet restless soul.

 

 

The warmth of her words and the sense of security, as if submerged in soothing water, shattered the last remnants of Chi Yuan’s rationality.

 

 

Finally, she snapped out of the bl00d-red haze before her eyes.

 

 

Staring at the man before her, now bruised and battered, Chi Yuan froze for a moment before loosening her grip. Her arms fell limply to her sides as she panted heavily in Jiang Ci’s embrace.

 

 

Looking down at her bloodstained hands, she knew the bl00d wasn’t hers.

 

 

For a split second, her expression twisted into something sorrowful, like a child who had done wrong and was begging for forgiveness. “Did I just…”

 

 

Was I terrifying?

 

 

Jiang Ci smiled gently, stroking her back in slow, soothing motions.

 

 

“You saved me, Chi Yuan.”

 

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

At that moment, the frenzy, the urge to destroy everything, the impulse to lash out—all of it gradually quieted in Chi Yuan’s mind, retreating into dormancy.

 

 

She was relieved not to see the same fear and disgust in Jiang Ci’s eyes that she had seen in others’.

 

 

A few crew members rushed into the studio, only to freeze at the scene before them.

 

 

Huh… they’re hugging?

 

 

Wow, so the post-heroic-rescue embrace from TV dramas is real. What’s next? A kiss?

 

 

Should they back out and come in later?

 

 

Jiang Ci, still holding Chi Yuan, cleared her throat. “The guy on the floor over there is the one who attacked with a knife.”

 

 

The crew’s gazes immediately snapped to the ground. Without Jiang Ci’s reminder, they would’ve forgotten the main issue entirely.

 

 

Curled up like a shrimp, the knife-wielder looked pitiful and helpless, sniveling in the corner. His mask and hat had been knocked off, but the bruises and swelling left his face barely recognizable.

 

 

A prop team member crouched beside the man, tilting his battered face left and right for a better look before announcing, “This guy isn’t part of our crew.”

 

 

Hearing this, the director stepped over for a glance. Damn, he’d been beaten to a pulp—hard to look at.

 

 

Still, “Definitely not one of ours. Must’ve snuck in from outside.”

 

 

He muttered to himself, “But everyone who gets past the building’s entrance and up to the second-floor studio has to pass identity checks. Outsiders aren’t allowed in.”

 

 

Jiang Ci chimed in, “I’d just changed and was about to leave when I heard Xiao Wang scream. He charged in with a knife, so I ran back into the dressing room and locked the door.”

 

 

“I don’t know him. No idea what he wanted.”

 

 

 

After calming down, Chi Yuan suddenly spoke up coldly, “He wanted to slash your face with a knife to disfigure you.”

 

 

Everyone was shocked, realizing the severity of the situation. The director’s expression turned serious as he called the police.

 

 

Several people tied up the knife-wielding man in front of the green screen in the studio, waiting for the police to arrive and take him away.

 

 

Xiao Wang’s wound was promptly bandaged. Fortunately, it wasn’t deep—just a superficial cut.

 

 

Still visibly shaken, she sat on the sofa and recounted what happened in the dressing room.

 

 

“Teacher Jiang went in to change clothes. I was waiting outside when I heard someone knock.”

 

 

“When I opened the door, I saw it wasn’t a studio staff member. I asked who he was, and he said he was Teacher Jiang’s fan holding flowers, wanting to give them to her personally.”

 

 

“He was wearing a mask and hat, covering his face completely—very suspicious—so I didn’t let him in.”

 

 

“Then he suddenly attacked me with a knife. I screamed for help while dodging. After cutting me, he rushed straight inside, targeting Teacher Jiang.”

 

 

Chi Yuan turned to Jiang Ci and asked, “Have you offended anyone recently?”

 

 

Jiang Ci thought for a moment but couldn’t think of any suspects, shaking her head slowly.

 

 

The director said, “It might be an anti-fan seeking revenge. Such incidents aren’t rare in the entertainment industry. This time, he slipped through our security—our oversight. Please forgive us, Teacher Jiang.”

 

 

Jiang Ci shook her head, “This isn’t something any of us wanted to happen.”

 

 

The director replied, “You should go back first. We’ll handle the rest.”

 

 

Jiang Ci glanced at Chi Yuan beside her, hesitated for a moment, then called the director aside.

 

 

“I want to know how much you saw earlier… the injuries on that man’s face…”

 

 

The director understood immediately, “Don’t worry, Teacher Jiang. If not for your assistant, who knows what might have happened? We’ll report the truth—your assistant acted bravely to protect others.”

 

 

Jiang Ci smiled, “Thank you for your understanding.”

 

 

Relieved, Jiang Ci took Chi Yuan’s hand—who still looked confused—and walked out, saying, “Come on, my brave hero.”

 

 

“Didn’t you realize how dangerous it was? He had a knife! I would’ve been fine locked in the dressing room.”

 

 

Chi Yuan pouted, “How do you know he couldn’t break in? Dressing room doors aren’t that sturdy. I couldn’t take that risk.”

 

 

Jiang Ci felt warmth in her heart, as if her long-dormant feelings were rekindling.

 

 

Jiang Ci said, “The director’s right—things like this aren’t uncommon in showbiz. Which celebrity hasn’t received death threats or razor blades in the mail?”

 

 

Chi Yuan retorted, “This is much worse than mailed threats or blades.”

 

 

She silently called out to the system: System, help me investigate who that man is. What kind of grudge could drive someone to such extremes?

 

 

But after several calls, there was no response.

 

 

Crashed again? How useless.

 

 

System: Uh… Host, are you feeling better now?

 

 

Chi Yuan: ? Much better, why? Your tone changed.

 

 

System: I was just… startled by you earlier.

 

 

Chi Yuan: Why are you suddenly so formal with “you”? Talk normally—this is weirding me out.

 

 

System: cough Okay then.

 

 

 

The system silently complained, “I’m not used to this either, okay? A silly, clueless fool suddenly turning into a cold-blooded killer—this kind of contrast could scare me for a whole year, you know?”

 

 

“Who would’ve thought, Host, that you had such a hidden side to you.”

 

 

System: “But, Host, I have to remind you of some bad news.”

 

 

Chi Yuan: “What?”

 

 

System: “The detection system shows that Jiang Ci’s danger alert hasn’t been lifted yet, though…”

 

 

Chi Yuan: “Not lifted?! You mean there’s still danger ahead?”