Toxic Pheromones of a Scumbag Alpha (GL) - Chapter 19

“Alright, don’t be so moody,” Ji Yao caught up to her, smiling with a bit of helplessness. “You’re pretty good at acting even when there’s no camera around.”

“But she’s so annoying,” Tan Zishu dropped the scowl she had just a moment ago and returned to her usual self. “I don’t even want to say another word to her.”

“You…” Ji Yao laughed as the two of them headed back together.

After all, she had practically raised Tan Zishu. She knew all her little expressions and moods inside out. Ever since they were caught on a mission by Jiang Jiaran, Tan Zishu must’ve been thinking about how to make a quick exit. The longer they stayed, the more trouble they’d run into.

So when Jiang Jiaran asked Ji Yao a few questions, Tan Zishu went along with the topic and pretended to be emotionally hurt. Then she picked a small fight with Ji Yao to stir things up, creating just enough confusion to slip away naturally.

In the end, Ji Yao stepped in to break up the argument, left with Tan Zishu, and even gave Jiang Jiaran a warning on the way out.

With any luck, Jiang Jiaran wouldn’t be bothering them again for a while.

“Jie, when did you realize I was pretending?” Tan Zishu asked, curious. She hadn’t told Ji Yao her plan in advance, yet Ji Yao had jumped right into the act with her.

“Did I really need to figure it out?” Ji Yao replied. It wasn’t just about their chemistry—there was intelligence involved too. “We talked about this before, didn’t we? I agreed to try things with you because I thought it was worth a shot—not because you kept bugging me. So there’s no reason to be upset just because Jiang Jiaran pointed it out again. Honestly, I thought you were someone who understood boundaries.”

“I do,” Tan Zishu said quietly. “Saying the word ‘like’ these days really puts people on the spot. Jie, the fact that you’re willing to try this with me is already more than enough. How could I dare to ask for anything more?”

Her words made sense, and her tone was calm.

But Ji Yao still heard the way her voice softened, just a little—low and a bit downhearted.

Ji Yao: “…”

It was like reluctantly bringing home a puppy, and telling it in advance: “I’m not really into pets. I’m only keeping you because I feel responsible. Let’s not talk about feelings for now.” Then someone next door tells the puppy: “Your owner doesn’t even like pets. You’re pathetic for using your cuteness to stay.”

The little wolf pup gives a soft “woof,” says it understands, and becomes incredibly well-behaved—inside and out.

Now, that obedient little wolf pup had gone quiet and withdrawn.

Even if it was the truth, it still hurt her feelings.

So what was Ji Yao supposed to do now?

With a headache coming on, she could only try to comfort her. “Want a little reward?”

Tan Zishu’s eyes lit up immediately. Though her face stayed neutral, the corners of her mouth lifted in a hidden smile as she leaned in closer.

Ji Yao gave her a light smack on the forehead. “Dream on.”

Tan Zishu: “…”

“Do you remember that time when you were a kid and I made egg fried rice for you?” Ji Yao started, slowly digging up old stories. “You were sick with a cold and insisted on having fried rice. It was the middle of the night, but I still got up and made it for you.”

Tan Zishu remembered. The memory wasn’t exactly pleasant—and she wasn’t all that eager to keep listening.

“You know,” Ji Yao said, “after you tasted it once and liked it, you started faking illnesses all the time just to get me to make egg fried rice. And the moment you ate it, you miraculously ‘got better.’”

She sighed, clearly ready to vent. “It’s not like egg fried rice is cold medicine—how could it possibly work that well? It wasn’t until later that I realized… you just wanted to eat it.”

Tan Zishu stayed quiet, pretending she didn’t hear a thing.

“You’ve been a handful since you were little,” Ji Yao went on, lecturing. “If you wanted something to eat, couldn’t you just say it outright? Why fake being sick? Do you know how worried I’d get whenever you came down with something? I couldn’t sleep the whole night. And all that—for a bowl of fried rice—you’d fake a headache, a stomachache, or a cold. Honestly, impressive.”

Tan Zishu muttered in protest, “You’ve told this story like a hundred times already. Jie, can’t you just let it go?”

“Oh? I’ve told it that many times?” Ji Yao raised an eyebrow. “You’re lying. I swear I haven’t said it more than three times. Don’t tell me you’re just making excuses because you don’t want to hear it again.”

“I could recite it word for word,” Tan Zishu said, exasperated. “And it’s not my fault! You barely know how to cook anything else. Egg fried rice is probably your best dish.”

Ji Yao: “…”

Great. So there’s no way this conversation is ending well.

A moment later, Tan Zishu gave in and tried to play cute. “Wait—let me take that back. I want to rephrase. What I meant was—Jie’s egg fried rice is the best in the world! I love it so much that I had no choice but to resort to desperate measures. I was forced by my cravings. I sincerely ask for forgiveness.”

Ji Yao, stone-faced: “Too late. No take-backs. So no forgiveness.”

Thanks, but that flattery was really not that satisfying.

“But it’s been less than five minutes,” Tan Zishu argued shamelessly. “Come on, Jie, think about it. If I could eat your egg fried rice every day, I wouldn’t have had to go to such ridiculous lengths. So really, this is your fault.”

“It’s not about the fried rice,” Ji Yao said, realizing they were veering off-topic. “That story was just an example—what I meant to say is: don’t pretend to be sick when you’re not. It makes me worry.”

Tan Zishu was taken aback.

“Even when I suspected you were faking earlier,” Ji Yao continued gently, “I still couldn’t stop myself from worrying. In my eyes, you’re like a porcelain doll—fragile, like one bump and you’ll shatter into pieces.”

She softened her voice, breaking things down carefully so Tan Zishu would really listen. “You might’ve only felt a little upset at first, but you acted like it didn’t matter—trying to seem like you ‘already knew’ and ‘weren’t bothered.’ But when you realized acting a bit pitiful could get you sympathy, you leaned into it and made it seem worse than it was.”

Ji Yao gave her a look. “But did you stop to think about me, your guardian? If you’re upset, do you think I can feel okay?”

Tan Zishu honestly hadn’t thought that far. Ji Yao’s lecture went in one ear and out the other—but after letting her mind process it for a few seconds, she came to a very different conclusion:

Ji Yao really cares about her.

Tan Zishu thought to herself: She gets upset when I’m upset. She cares about me. She loves me.

That thought alone made her feel completely satisfied.

After speaking until her mouth was dry, Ji Yao turned to check Tan Zishu’s reaction—only to find her smiling brightly.

Why did she look even happier after being scolded?

Ji Yao: “???”

What was this nonsense?

All the heartfelt advice she just gave—straight into the belly of a mischievous little pup. Tan Zishu, through her actions, made it crystal clear: she would absolutely dare to pull the same stunt again.

Wearing a bright, shameless smile, she looked up and said, “Jie, do you know what this really says, deep down?”

Ji Yao narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“It’s simple. Rare things are more precious. Like your egg fried rice—because I had to go through all kinds of ‘unorthodox means’ to get it, the reward felt even sweeter. That’s why I kept trying to get it from you in creative ways.” Tan Zishu leaned in close, whispering by her ear in a playful, breathy tone, “So, Jie… it means you’re not giving me enough sweet rewards~”

Ji Yao, without a word, grabbed the iron shovel that a nearby gardener had left by the path—her killing intent flaring to life.

Tan Zishu took off like the wind.

The gardener turned around and noticed his shovel was gone. He started looking around, confused, only to see a gentle-looking young woman walking toward him… carrying it single-handedly.

That shovel was awful—heavy and hard to use. The gardener had regretted bringing it the moment he picked it up. But when he saw Ji Yao effortlessly holding it with one hand, he was struck by self-doubt. Wait… is it not actually that heavy?

Ji Yao offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I used your tool without asking.”

“No worries, no worries,” the man waved her off. “It’s just a junky old thing anyway—hard to use, really. But you… you look so delicate, and you’re holding it one-handed without even shaking! You must be something else. What do you do for work?”

Ji Yao gave a modest smile. “I’ve acted in a few minor roles on film sets.”

The man’s eyes lit up. “Oh? What movies or TV shows? I’ll look them up when I get home.”

Ji Yao replied, “Rebirth: Lin Daiyu Pulls Out the Weeping Willow by Its Roots.”