I Marked the Villain After Transmigrating into a Scumbag A - Chapter 1

June was already sweltering. The doors and windows were shut tight, and the drawn curtains cloaked the room in shadows.

Though her eyes were open, everything in view felt surreal. The light wavered and blurred, and through the haze, she could see a beautiful, delicate woman lying face-down on crimson silk, her body barely covered by a gauzy summer blanket as thin as a cicada’s wing.

She looked to be in pain. Her fingers clutched the white pillow tightly, her parched lips trembling slightly as her tongue lightly grazed her lower lip.

With every movement she made, a faint, alluring fragrance began to fill the room—a scent like cool mint mingled with sweet green apple, seductive and intoxicating.

The perfume molecules dispersed quickly, saturating the air.

It was a dangerously tempting choice of scent for summer.

From behind, Gu Zhijing gripped the woman’s hand, desperately following the trail of that aroma. Her fingers brushed aside the woman’s messy hair, revealing a slender neck.

There. That’s where it was coming from.

The scent of chilled apple wafted from her skin, rich and ripe.

Even the briefest contact felt like someone had lit a fire inside her, driving her to press closer to that cool spot.

“Just one bite… on your neck. I won’t go any further,” she murmured—not just to coax the woman, but to reassure herself.

Her heart pounded erratically, and the chaotic hunger burning inside her sent a wave of dizziness through her brain.

“Gu Zhijing…”

The voice was strained with suppressed fury, yet quickly softened, turning into a quiet moan that slipped into her ears like fine threads—tickling, melting.

Gu Zhijing pulled the woman closer, as if afraid she might disappear. “I’m here,” she whispered.

She moved with the cautious gentleness of someone tending to a wounded beast, her fingertips brushing over the woman’s back, easing toward her neck to breathe in the sweet scent.

“Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over soon.”

Gu Zhijing’s thoughts were a scrambled mess, her mind was close to short-circuiting. She could barely hold onto the fragmented memories from before she lost control: attending a friend’s party, filled with forgettable conversations and an endless exchange of drinks. The only thing that stood out was a moment of eye contact with a woman—long black hair cascading like silk to her waist, her expression cool and aloof, her features so exquisite they made Gu Zhijing look twice.

Later in the party, that same woman had sent her two drinks. Gu Zhijing gulped them and was almost immediately drunk. She remembered the woman tugging her forward by her tie, a long corridor, bright lights that hurt her eyes… then a sudden bump, someone pushing her, her arms instinctively wrapping around the woman’s waist—and somehow, they ended up in bed.

Summer heat clung to the air, thick and stifling, and the only relief came from the living “ice pack” in bed beside her.

Every sense was overtaken by the scent. Her vision swirled in a fog. Guided by instinct, she clung to the other woman, embraced her.

One bite. That was all it would take. A bite, and they could both be saved.

She sank her teeth in.

She whispered soothing words to the trembling woman, gently breaking the skin at the nape of her neck. Instantly, the oppressive heat in the room receded, just slightly.

But then—

Like popping a balloon, the chilled, slightly tart sweetness of apple burst forth all at once, drenching the room.

Gu Zhijing wasn’t prepared. The scent wrapped around her like chains. Her fleeting return to clarity evaporated, and her fingers trembled uncontrollably. Her thoughts flailed in a fog.

So sweet.

So unbearable.

She wanted the ice to melt—for her. Wanted to burn it all down.

The scent kept spreading. Gu Zhijing bit her lip hard, the pain finally dragging her back to herself. And then, without thinking, she said the name aloud:

“Ye Chimou…”

Her body froze.

Shock, confusion, and a creeping sense of dread overwhelmed her. Goosebumps prickled up her arms.

The woman lying in bed, the one she had held all night, had not melted under her touch. Instead, her strength had left bruises, faint marks etched across the woman’s fair skin.

The room was still dim, lit only by the soft orange glow of a bedside lamp. The beautiful woman was curled up on her side, fragile and trembling. Her jet-black hair contrasted with her pale face, beads of sweat clinging to her porcelain skin. Her knees, barely covered by sheer fabric, were flushed red from the friction. Her waist was so slender it looked like it might snap with a touch.

She didn’t seem to be sleeping well, her hands clutching the blanket tightly.

Gu Zhijing gently tucked her hair behind her ear. The woman’s profile, half-buried in the pillow, was tinged with a faint pink. Her long lashes were damp. When her hair was fully brushed back, a clear bite mark appeared on the back of her neck.

Gu Zhijing’s fingertips still carried the faint scent of green apple.

After a night like that, her memories were a blur. She couldn’t even tell if the woman from the party—the one with long black hair—and the one now sleeping before her were the same person.

And then, a thought pierced her mind:

I marked Ye Chimou.

Ye Chimou—the antagonist from a novel she’d once read.

A gut instinct told Gu Zhijing she had somehow fallen into the world of that book. And not just any story—it was an ABO angst novel, and she’d landed in the role of the early-stage cannon fodder who dies first.

In the modern world, Gu Zhijing had been a CEO—powerful, yes, but her life was a dull cycle of work. To relieve the boredom, she’d picked up a little hobby: reading love stories.

She often read them late at night, and usually forgot the plot as soon as she was done. But one character had stuck with her, a name she could never forget, one that weighed on her chest every time she remembered it and often brought tears to her eyes.

The villainess—Ye Chimou.

The story itself was a cliché. The heroine saved the male lead, they fell in love under the influence of pheromones, and both became CEOs. The villainess barely had any screen time—just a few lines of tragic backstory.

But Gu Zhijing had liked Ye Chimou. Liked her so much that she didn’t care about the main couple’s sugary romance. Every time Ye Chimou showed up to wreak havoc, she felt a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Ye Chimou had been beautiful since childhood, but born into a family that prized Alphas and looked down on Omegas. Her parents were cruel and biased, forcing her into the entertainment industry and ordering her to find a rich man to support her younger brother.

And the original Gu Zhijing? She was that “rich man.” She’d laid eyes on Ye Chimou and, using illegal C-drugs, lured her into a hotel room with bad intentions. Though weakened, Ye Chimou fought back, smashing a camera over Gu Zhijing’s head and splitting her skull open. The original Gu Zhijing, cowardly cannon fodder that she was, called emergency services in panic. Ye Chimou, meanwhile, had climbed to the window and threatened to kill herself, using the chaos to escape.

But the original Gu Zhijing hadn’t given up so easily.

She had edited and trimmed the footage from the camera, selectively uploading it online, twisting Ye Chimou into the image of a woman who used her body to climb the ladder in exchange for resources.

Ye Chimou’s love life and career were both shattered. That was the moment she fully broke—twisted into the greatest villain in the story. Anyone who stood in her way was ruthlessly eliminated.

In the end, she tortured the male and female leads to the brink of despair, practically wringing their hearts dry. At one point, she had even seized control of the global economy. Clever and ruthless, she survived until the very last chapter.

But her ending? She jumped to her death.

The author’s note explained it was her nature—her fate. Ye Chimou was doomed to follow that path from the start.

Gu Zhijing had loved that character.

She couldn’t understand her death. Furious, she threw a million yuan at the author just to ask why.

The author, overwhelmed with guilt and now holding that much money, added her on WeChat and explained: Ye Chimou’s values were too twisted, her crimes too severe—she’d practically broken every law in the criminal code. If she didn’t die, the whole book risked getting banned.

Since then, Ye Chimou’s name became a thorn in Gu Zhijing’s heart.

Her greatest “unfinished business.”

Hard to believe, isn’t it?

A CEO, mourning a fictional character all summer long.

But now, that same woman—Ye Chimou—lay on the bed before her, her brows scrunched in pain… Gu Zhijing couldn’t believe it.

She was a rational, highly educated materialist. She didn’t believe in transmigration. Grabbing her phone, she tried to convince herself it was all a prank.

Then a few messages popped up on the screen:

[So? Was Ye Chimou good in bed?]

[She followed you so obediently—I guess all that high and mighty stuff was just an act, huh?]

[Don’t forget to share the recording. I need to see how those icy women lose control.]

Gu Zhijing’s heart sank. These were the original character’s scummy friends—the ones who helped torment Ye Chimou in the novel. None of them had a happy ending.

She turned back to the woman in bed.

Ye Chimou was extremely weak. Her breathing was shallow, her thin shirt soaked through and clinging to her skin. The mark on her neck stood out even more starkly now.

In the modern world, maybe a woman’s neck wasn’t such a big deal. But in an ABO setting… for Omegas, the neck was where their gland was located—their secondary sexual trait.

In other words, Gu Zhijing biting through her neck meant one thing: a forced claim.

Her scent would now linger inside Ye Chimou’s body—marking her as hers.

Which basically meant… she had just raped her.

Everything was completely out of control now. Ye Chimou never smashed the camera, never escaped. Instead, Gu Zhijing had ended up marking her. Not just marking—she’d recorded the whole thing.

She’d done worse than the original character ever had.

Gu Zhijing carefully climbed out of bed, reaching for the camera on the nightstand.

This was life or death.

Sure enough, it was still recording. She frantically looked for the delete button.

On the bed, Ye Chimou let out a faint whimper, her brows furrowing deeper. But before Gu Zhijing could delete anything, Ye Chimou opened her eyes.

She propped herself up on one arm, eyes locking onto Gu Zhijing—and froze.

The thin blanket slipped off her waist, revealing a snow-white strip of skin. Even in this state, Ye Chimou was stunning. Her almond eyes shimmered with a dangerous charm as she blinked.

Her voice was weak, but sharp enough to cut: “What are you doing?”

Gu Zhijing jumped, fumbling to turn the camera off. But the interface wasn’t like the ones she was used to. Instead of hitting delete, she accidentally tapped playback.

And then the audio began to play.

Ye Chimou’s beautiful eyes widened. She’d still been in a daze moments before, but now she was fully awake. She stared at Gu Zhijing’s face with disbelief—and unmistakable hatred. The kind of hatred that made you want to tear someone to pieces.

“I can explain. It’s just… just a toy…”

Gu Zhijing hadn’t even finished speaking when the fragile Omega suddenly lunged at her. But her body was still burning with fever—too weak to hold herself up. Just as she was about to fall off the bed, Gu Zhijing instinctively reached out to catch her.

The camera was knocked from the nightstand in the process, hitting the floor with a thud.

And from the floor, the video continued to play.

The soft, breathy sounds of an Omega echoed through the room—sweet, sticky, unmistakably Ye Chimou’s voice. The image was even more damning: a shirtless Alpha pinning a fragile woman beneath her.

The woman lay face down, receiving the mark. A tattoo of a blue butterfly shimmered on her shoulder. With each small, trembling movement of her back, it looked like the butterfly was ready to take flight—but slowly, her body slumped forward, succumbing to exhaustion…

Beautiful, and heartbreakingly vulnerable.

“You smell so good…”

“Don’t be scared, I’m just biting your neck…”

“Does it hurt? I’ll blow on it…”

“Good girl.”

Gu Zhijing looked up. Ye Chimou’s soaked hair clung to her cheeks, her pale fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt. Her lips were bloodless from being bitten so hard, her body trembling uncontrollably. The butterfly on her shoulder seemed to come back to life.

Ye Chimou lifted her head, her eyelashes heavy with tears. She bit her lip and asked, her voice trembling:

“Explain what? Gu Zhijing, am I your toy?”

“Mm…”

The camera continued playing.

The moans of an Alpha drunk on satisfaction spilled from the speakers.

Ye Chimou glared at her. Gu Zhijing looked stricken with guilt, slowly sinking down to her knees. She tried to push Ye Chimou back onto the bed, but even as Ye Chimou collapsed against her, who’s hot and feverish, her eyes were still fierce and unwavering.

Her lips were swollen and red from biting, and she trembled with fury.

Through clenched teeth, she hissed, “Gu Zhijing, I swear I’ll kill you.”

Gu Zhijing closed her eyes.

Utter despair washing over her.

Someone, please save me.