Toxic Pheromones of a Scumbag Alpha (GL) - Chapter 2

Because both of them knew the unspoken truth between them, there was no need for pretense. Even the conversation was as blunt as a blade.

“Do you have plans tonight?”

The moment Ji Yao said those five words, she felt secondhand embarrassment on her own behalf.

But Tan Zishu’s expression remained utterly calm, as if bold invitations like this were routine for her.

Ji Yao clenched her molars in frustration—God, she was infuriating.

“Since you’re here,” Tan Zishu said, “I guess I do now.”

She extended a hand and took hold of Ji Yao’s, leading her out of the banquet hall.

As they descended the staircase, one of Tan Zishu’s assistants came rushing up, probably to report something. Ji Yao sensibly stepped back a few paces, watching Tan Zishu’s slim, elegant figure disappear ahead…

And suddenly, she had the overwhelming urge to kick her down the stairs.

What the hell had she raised this girl into?

Even ten years after death, Ji Yao had to come back to clean up her mess. Not even death gave her peace of mind.

But she had no one to blame. She had been the one to bring Tan Zishu home, to raise her. Even if she’d grown crooked, it was still her responsibility.

Truthfully, Tan Zishu hadn’t been an easy child. She rejected affection from anyone. She didn’t even like animals—most kids her age would be delighted by fluffy puppies or kittens.

Ji Yao had believed that too. So in an effort to help the children bond, she’d asked her assistant to bring in a beautiful Ragdoll cat.

At the orphanage, the other children had eagerly gathered around her. Only little Tan Zishu stood off at a distance, arms crossed, turning her face away coldly.

At the time, Ji Yao was a household name—a beloved celebrity at the height of her fame. The kids all recognized her. But even then, Tan Zishu stubbornly refused to come close.

Ji Yao noticed. So she set her pride aside, crouched down in front of the girl, and gently guided her:
“Don’t you like cats? This one’s very sweet. Try petting it.”

She carefully took the girl’s small hand, curling her fingers into Ji Yao’s warm palm. Though delicate, her hands were already calloused.

Ji Yao’s heart ached. She gently pulled her hand forward to touch the cat’s soft head.

But in the next instant, little Tan Zishu yanked her hand away and slapped Ji Yao’s aside.

“Being sweet is useless,” she said coldly. “Weakness only gets you hurt.”

Ji Yao froze. She hadn’t expected a child her age to say something like that.

Around them, the orphanage staff had also picked up on Ji Yao’s reaction. They couldn’t afford to offend a celebrity, so their smiles stiffened instantly. Several employees hurried over, apologizing in a flurry.

“We’re so sorry, Miss Ji. This wild girl doesn’t know her place. It’s our fault for not teaching her properly.”

“Are you alright, Miss Ji?”

Little Tan Zishu stared on coldly, unfazed by the adults’ frantic posturing. Then, a strict supervisor stormed over, grabbed her by the shoulder, and yanked her away from Ji Yao.

Even then, Tan Zishu didn’t flinch. She simply looked back at the adults indifferently—her gaze fixed stubbornly on Ji Yao.

Ji Yao’s vision was blocked by the people crowding around her. She didn’t reach out to stop the girl. All she could do was stand there and watch her get dragged away.

If she had just reached for her then… if she had taken her home and cared for her properly from the beginning…

Would Tan Zishu still have become the person she was today?

But it was too late now.

Ji Yao let out a silent sigh.

She had died too young. After adopting Tan Zishu, she hadn’t actually been able to spend many years raising her. Fourteen years old—an age when a person’s worldview is still forming—and she had left her alone in the entertainment industry, that poisonous swamp. How could she have not gone astray?

It was Ji Yao’s fault.

If she had left her in the mountains, kept her in that quiet rural life, she would have grown up as a mountain girl. Maybe not glamorous, but at least she wouldn’t have turned out like this.

A wildflower under the sun is better than a poppy blooming in a greenhouse… isn’t it?

Now.

Having been reborn ten years into the future, Ji Yao couldn’t do much—except follow Tan Zishu’s retreating figure, step by step, down the stairs. Things had come to this point, and patching things up was better than nothing. As long as she was still alive, she’d make sure Tan Zishu never made another irredeemably foolish mistake.

Keep canaries?

Who gave her the guts?

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, Miss Tan—I didn’t mean to touch you!”

A sudden shriek snapped Ji Yao back to reality. She stopped spacing out and hurried to catch up.

Apparently, Tan Zishu had twisted her ankle slightly on the stairs. Her gown revealed her arms, and her young assistant had instinctively reached out to steady her. But the moment their skin made contact, Tan Zishu flinched like she’d been shocked and instantly flung the girl’s hand away—still just as averse to physical contact as ever.

So instead of gratitude, the aloof superstar ended up scaring her assistant half to death. The poor girl kept apologizing nervously.

Seriously? Was that really necessary?

Ji Yao glanced sideways at Tan Zishu’s face—and from the tightly pursed corners of her mouth, she read two unmistakable words:
“It was.”

Ji Yao: “…”

Still the same petty, touchy brat as ever. Some things really never changed.

The way she carried herself now… Ji Yao found it oddly familiar. It reminded her of one of those cliché villains in a novel—an arrogant celebrity who alienates everyone around her and ultimately goes down in flames, infamous and alone.

And that sixth sense of hers? It was screaming. A public fall from grace is a death sentence in showbiz. Ji Yao couldn’t just stand by and watch her destroy herself.

“Miss Tan…”

Just saying the words gave Ji Yao goosebumps. She suppressed the cringe and stayed in character.
“She only meant well by trying to help. Maybe… you could let it slide?”

And if you don’t, don’t blame me for breaking your legs later.

Tan Zishu raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by this “canary’s” sudden boldness.
“Are you lecturing me?”

Ji Yao wanted nothing more than to smack her upside the head, but reality had other plans.

After several rounds of self-restraint, Ji Yao gritted her teeth, tilted her head innocently, and buried her fury beneath a soft, harmless smile.

“I’m sorry. I know my place. I… was just speaking without thinking.”

Tan Zishu lowered her eyes.
“Oh.”

Ji Yao: “…”

Ugh. Just looking at this brat gets on my nerves. Age doesn’t matter—she’s still infuriating.

The weather was starting to turn—autumn was approaching. The air had a chill. After a short walk, they finally reached the bottom of the long staircase.

Tan Zishu’s car was parked right there. Her assistant dashed ahead, grabbed two jackets from the vehicle, and quickly ran back toward them.

At first, Ji Yao didn’t think much of it—until she noticed something odd.

The assistant skipped right past Tan Zishu… and draped a jacket over her instead.

Wait. She passed over Tan Zishu… to cover me first?

For someone as picky as Tan Zishu, that was borderline reckless behavior from the assistant.

She’d only spoken one word in her defense, and she was just some canary Tan Zishu had picked up tonight.

Was that… loyalty? Just like that?

Ji Yao stared at the assistant in disbelief, but the girl didn’t even meet her gaze. She lowered her head and stepped back quietly.

Tan Zishu, however, shifted sideways—blocking Ji Yao’s view.

Then, with a graceful smile, she gestured toward the open car door.
“After you.”

Ji Yao nodded and got in obediently.

The entire scene was deliberate—Tan Zishu’s every move theatrical and pointed, exaggerated like she was practically begging someone to catch it on camera.