Toxic Pheromones of a Scumbag Alpha (GL) - Chapter 14

Ji Yao was still feeling uneasy. Since Tan Zishu wasn’t home today, she figured—why not take the chance to go to the hospital and get her attributes tested?

Before her death in her previous life, she had delayed her second gender differentiation. Now that she had been reborn, if her differentiation hadn’t occurred yet, that was fine. But if it had… she needed to prepare in advance.

Thankfully, this system wasn’t completely useless. It could still handle basic tasks.

No reason to waste it. Ji Yao simply treated the system as her personal digital assistant.

To give it some credit, the system was actually quite generous when it came to money. The moment Ji Yao made a request, a large sum of money was transferred to her phone.

Just as she noticed the transfer and was about to question it, the system explained that it was a reasonable method—merely to stay in character and avoid any “out-of-character” behaviors.

Although the phone was given to her by Tan Zishu, and the transfer appeared to be from her as well, Ji Yao wasn’t worried about being found out or causing any narrative disruption.

“No power drain, online 24/7… Honestly, very convenient,” Ji Yao commented after pulling in the funds. “If you weren’t such a trash-tier AI, I might even like you a little more.”

The system replied with an unbothered tone: “I’ll try.”

Pleased with herself, Ji Yao booked a VIP private physical exam at the hospital.

“No rush,” she said to herself. “I’ll rest a bit before heading out. That little brat wore me out last night—I didn’t sleep well.”

The system asked, “…Where are we going?”

Ji Yao replied slyly, “I’ll tell you later. Just in case you freak out and assign some ridiculous mission.”

Meanwhile, Tan Zishu had caught a bit of sleep in the car and arrived just on time at the place Director Huo had arranged to meet.

It was a stylish, high-end restaurant with an excellent atmosphere—and best of all, no crowds.

As they walked in, Lou Juan explained, “Director Huo’s like you—he doesn’t like noisy places.”

Tan Zishu nodded. She had a good relationship with Director Huo, mostly because their personalities were quite similar.

They turned a corner, and a staff member guided them inside… where they saw Huo Qi sitting cross-legged on the floor.

The restaurant was in a secluded location and apparently wasn’t open to the public very often. Instead of traditional dining tables, the interior was set up more like a serene lounge. The decor had a classic Japanese aesthetic—clean, warm, and calming.

Director Huo was making himself very much at home. He was seated casually on an expensive floor mat, holding a custard-filled dish in his hand.

Normally, he was seen in tailored suits, always polished. But today, he was dressed in loose cotton and linen, looking completely relaxed.

Tan Zishu greeted him, “Director Huo, you’re quite the laid-back man when you’re off duty.”

He waved dismissively.

Tan Zishu paused, then asked, “Is this about work? Did something happen?”

Huo Qi replied, “You’ve got no sense, do you? Lend me a hand.”

Tan Zishu: “…”

Ah. The custard had dripped onto his clothes.

“Go ahead and sit—this place is owned by a friend. No outsiders will be coming in,” Huo Qi said as he motioned for Lou Juan and Xu Xiyan to take a seat nearby. Then he turned to Tan Zishu and added, “I heard you haven’t been eating properly lately. You’re in terrible shape. Since you’re here, sit down and have lunch with us.”

It was just a simple meal. No one pressured anyone to drink, and there wasn’t a trace of the usual backroom scheming that often came with such gatherings.

Tan Zishu, for once, ate more than she usually did.

Director Huo asked, “Did you skip breakfast?”

Tan Zishu’s brows twitched slightly at the memory of the morning’s miserable fried egg. But despite that, her lips curved ever so slightly, even lifting into something close to a smile.

Director Huo glanced at her. “You look like you’re in a good mood. In love?”

“No.” Tan Zishu replied plainly. “Just had some good news lately—been feeling pretty positive.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re in a good mood. Things haven’t been so easy on my end,” Huo Qi said, clearly not letting her off the hook. “Remember the last audition? Jiang Jiaran’s team contacted me too. I didn’t want to reject them outright, so I agreed to let her audition alongside you. And what do you do? You bail on me multiple times. Their team had to make several wasted trips. You really are a handful.”

Huo Qi was known for his difficult temperament—very much like Tan Zishu’s. If he didn’t like someone, he made no effort to hide it. As one of the most well-regarded directors of the era, his scoldings were often brutally creative. Many young actors had been emotionally crushed by him, often leaving his sets in tears.

The first time Tan Zishu worked with him, they’d argued for an entire day over something completely trivial. The argument got so heated the entire crew had to step in to stop them. Just when everyone thought the collaboration was doomed, the two bonded over their equal stubbornness—and somehow, that broke the ice.

Eccentric as he was, Director Huo was fiercely loyal to the people he favored—for no particular reason.

That loyalty also earned him plenty of scorn online.

Two of the most controversial figures in the industry somehow ended up as friends.

Tan Zishu smiled and offered a half-hearted apology, “Thanks for the trouble, Director Huo. But you still picked me in the end. Bet that drove them crazy.”

“I was just going through the motions,” Huo Qi said bluntly. “That role suits you. No amount of money would’ve made me change my mind. Besides, Jiang Jiaran’s just not right for it. She’s built her image around being sweet and soft. She can’t pull off playing someone unhinged.”

Tan Zishu: “…”

She wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or an insult.

“Funny thing though—Jiang Jiaran was acting just like you the other day during her audition. Same blissed-out expression, totally out of it,” Huo Qi added. “Young actresses these days, all caught up in romance. Fall for someone, and they’re ready to hang themselves from that one crooked tree.”

“Huh?”

Tan Zishu suddenly felt a chill. She instinctively turned to Lou Juan—and saw that Lou Juan’s face had gone pale too.

No way… had Jiang Jiaran figured out something about Ji Yao?

Tan Zishu had always been careful about keeping Ji Yao hidden and protected at home. There shouldn’t have been any leaks. Even if someone was going to find out eventually, it shouldn’t have been this soon.

Huo Qi casually wiped his hands, pretending not to notice their reactions. “You weren’t there, but I heard a bit of gossip. Apparently, someone from Jiang Jiaran’s past—someone she hasn’t seen in a long time—is back. A woman. Beautiful. Someone she used to admire, maybe even had feelings for.”

Tan Zishu’s eyelid twitched violently. She looked down—and saw a message from Ji Yao on her phone:

“Stepping out for a bit. Been getting a little stir-crazy at home.”

Lou Juan leaned over and whispered, “A paparazzo from Jiang Jiaran’s side just leaked something—they say she took a detour across half the city to visit a hospital near your place.”

Tan Zishu looked up at Huo Qi. He didn’t even glance back. “Go. I don’t need anything else from you today.”

Beside the hospital’s outpatient building stood a separate, private facility. It had no signage and hardly any visitors.

Very few people knew it was a clinic reserved exclusively for VIP clients.

Not even the system had any idea how Ji Yao had managed to book an appointment there so easily.

System: “When did you schedule this?”

Ji Yao: “The second you transferred the money.”

System: “……”

This place wasn’t easy to get into. Becoming a VIP here required strict qualifications. How had Ji Yao, someone who had only just been reborn, managed to pull it off—and without the system noticing?

Despite their shared mental connection, the system now felt a creeping sense of unease… like something was slipping out of its control.

Ji Yao had no obligation to explain anything to the system. She stepped into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the 11th floor.

This building was rarely used. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a sweet-sounding female voice called out from outside.

“Please hold the elevator!”

A young woman rushed over, practically running, with several people trailing behind her in a hurry. But once she stepped inside and stood next to Ji Yao, she unhesitatingly pressed the “close” button.

She looked to be in her early twenties. Ji Yao glanced at her and thought she couldn’t be far off in age from Tan Zishu. There was even something faintly familiar about her.

The girl was slightly breathless, her voice soft but shaky. “Thank you, big sister.”

The people behind them reached the elevator just in time to watch the doors close in their faces.

Ji Yao made no move to reopen them. She got the feeling that the girl had no intention of letting those people catch up—like some heiress on the run, eloping from a high-society wedding. That kind of drama… somehow, it was a little cool.

“You’re going to the 11th floor too? What a coincidence,” the girl said with a hint of shyness, eyes sparkling as she looked at Ji Yao. “Did you book a check-up too? Maybe we can go together.”

So forward?

Ji Yao subtly examined the girl more closely. Though she was young, clearly in her early twenties, her styling leaned deliberately toward a “sweet and innocent” image. It was the kind of carefully curated look only a management company would manufacture—she looked like a porcelain doll, polished and perfect.

“Sure,” Ji Yao replied with a friendly smile of her own. “I was just thinking how lonely it would be to go alone.”

The girl extended her hand. “I’m Jiang Jiaran.”

…So, she hadn’t been recognized on sight. Well then, no excuses if she forgot again in the future.

Jiang Jiaran’s smile was flawless—sweet as honey. Most people would be completely disarmed by such warmth.

But Ji Yao wasn’t. She shook hands politely and let go. Try as she might, she couldn’t place the name or the face.

The name did ring a bell, but back in her past life as a celebrity, Ji Yao had met and heard of thousands of people. There was no way she could remember a little girl from an orphanage that clearly.

Jiang Jiaran’s smile nearly faltered.

As Ji Yao released her hand, Jiang Jiaran realized with growing despair: she didn’t remember her.

She stared at Ji Yao in disbelief, eyes misting over.

To her, Ji Yao had been the only light in a bleak childhood.

Ji Yao had once said she liked her—liked her face, her personality. Why couldn’t she remember that now?

She hadn’t changed that much… It had only been ten years. Her face still looked the same.

Jiang Jiaran wanted desperately to get closer, to ask why—why couldn’t she remember? Back then, Ji Yao had said she was pretty, that she was well-behaved…

Inside the mirror-lined elevator, Ji Yao began to feel uneasy under the intense stare. To break the awkward silence, she casually said, “Your nose is really pretty.”

Jiang Jiaran froze—that was exactly what Ji Yao had said to her over a decade ago.

She had complimented her nose, said it made her look like a delicate porcelain doll.

Because of that, when Jiang Jiaran was being shaped and styled by her management company, she’d stubbornly refused to let them touch her nose. It felt like her one special feature—her only edge in a colorless childhood.

Back then, Jiang Jiaran had hated being stuck in that dilapidated orphanage. Ji Yao had appeared like a beam of light, opening a window to the outside world. She could smell the luxury on her, taste the life she wanted.

She’d clung to her fiercely, determined to be remembered. With her obedience and good behavior, she’d become one of Ji Yao’s favorite children—and eventually, even a candidate for adoption.

But Ji Yao had lied.

She had said Jiang Jiaran was the most obedient child she’d ever met—so why, in the end, did she walk away with the most disobedient one of all? Tan Zishu?

Jiang Jiaran stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers slowly curling into fists.

It’s fine. Even if she forgot, it’s fine. I’m not that powerless little girl anymore.

Even if I’m still not worthy, I’ll find a way to win her over.