Toxic Pheromones of a Scumbag Alpha (GL) - Chapter 3

As soon as they got into the car, Tan Zishu immediately moved as far away from Ji Yao as possible.

Ji Yao didn’t feel like talking to her either, so the car was filled with silence.

During the ride, Tan Zishu received a string of calls from all kinds of people. She didn’t reject a single one, even though she was clearly in no state to talk.

It wasn’t until now that Ji Yao noticed—Tan Zishu’s face was pale, not the kind of pale caused by makeup, but the sickly white of someone who’d lost too much bl00d. Her skin carried a lifeless pallor that couldn’t be faked with cosmetics.

“Miss Tan, your suppressant.” The assistant quietly handed over an injector. “Are you alright? Do you need to stop by the hospital?”

Halfway through her question, the assistant glanced naturally at Ji Yao.

Ji Yao immediately understood the implication and flatly ignored it.

Tan Zishu was an Alpha. She was probably entering her sensitive period. Though the assistant outwardly offered a suppressant, what she was really doing was subtly hinting at Ji Yao to step in—help ease the discomfort of her Alpha’s condition.

But Ji Yao had zero interest in playing along.

If it weren’t for fear of breaking character, the first thing she would’ve done was grab Tan Zishu by the ear and shout:

“You knew you were entering your sensitivity period and still came to a crowded party? Why don’t you take better care of yourself?”

That kind of recklessness deserved a good scolding. It was like refusing to wear warm clothes in winter and then complaining about the cold—just begging for a cold.

So Ji Yao didn’t budge. She sat in silence and watched to see just how far Tan Zishu planned to take this performance.

“It’s fine. I can handle it,” Tan Zishu said, frowning as she pushed the suppressant away. “Just take me home. I hate hospitals.”

“Handle it” her foot, Ji Yao thought. She wasn’t handling anything—she was acting.

When an Alpha hits the peak of their sensitivity period, they’d never show up to a party like that. It was obvious—Tan Zishu had only gone to the banquet to hunt for a new canary.

Ji Yao nearly laughed out loud. If Tan Zishu could act this well on screen, the audience wouldn’t criticize her so much.

Eventually, the performance wore down, and Ji Yao finally turned to look at her.

Tan Zishu still looked just like she did as a child. Her narrow, sharp monolids were distinct. Her eye shape was smooth and well-defined, her nose tall and pointed, every feature icy and clean—but all devoid of warmth.

Those thin-lidded eyes always looked half-lidded, disinterested in everything. Ji Yao could never tell whether she truly didn’t want to engage with people—or if she just never bothered to open her eyes fully.

But one thing was clear: Tan Zishu hadn’t been happy in recent years.

She looked like she was living in black-and-white—no color, no joy. Wherever she went, it was like the world around her lost a few degrees of saturation.

“How did you…”

Ji Yao wanted to ask, How did you manage to live like this? So heavy, so bitter, so alone?

But as the words left her mouth, she remembered that her current identity didn’t give her the right to ask such things. So she shifted the tone and followed her “canary” role instead:
“Miss Tan, you’re so beautiful and elegant. What’s your secret?”

Tan Zishu turned her head slightly, her tone dry and jaded:
“Constant anxiety and depression. Stay up for several nights in a row. Lose your appetite every few days. Do it long enough, and you’ll look just like me.”

Ji Yao: “…”

This brat really has leveled up—she’s even more infuriating now.

Her bl00d pressure was probably spiking. To avoid picking another fight, Ji Yao shut her mouth and didn’t say another word.

When they finally arrived at Tan Zishu’s home, she led Ji Yao straight into her study.

Without a word, Tan Zishu tossed her coat to the assistant, then walked to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a document—

a contract.

“Xu Xiyan, close the door.”
Tan Zishu dismissed her assistant, then waved Ji Yao over.
“Come here.”

Ji Yao opened the folder.

“This is our ‘sponsorship’ agreement,” Tan Zishu said casually, eyes closed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s a one-year contract. All the benefits you’ll get are listed—take a look. If there’s anything you’d like to add, speak up now.”

Her tone was light, like she didn’t care in the slightest.

“For one year, you’ll keep me company during my sensitive periods. Try not to be caught by the media. Don’t wake me up too early. Don’t interfere with my personal habits. Be on call as much as possible. Don’t lock the bedroom door after 10 p.m. And most importantly—don’t annoy me.”

Ji Yao’s fingers curled tightly around the document. The paper trembled as though afraid of what she was holding back.

It had only been ten years. A fourteen-year-old girl had become a twenty-four-year-old adult—but what on earth had happened during that time to turn Tan Zishu into this?

Little Tan Zishu had never been easy, sure, but she wasn’t this rotten. Ji Yao could’ve never imagined that the girl she’d raised with her own hands would one day turn out like this.

Anger. Disappointment. Sadness. Frustration.
All of it tangled in Ji Yao’s chest until she raised a hand to her forehead, overwhelmed.

She let out a deep breath and continued reading the contract. She recognized every word—but strung together like this, it was like reading a foreign language.

“During sensitivity periods, Party B is obligated to fulfill all of Party A’s physical needs. Party A bears no responsibility for Party B’s safety.”

In plain terms, she was just a tool—a vessel for a scummy Alpha to vent her urges. And based on how detailed the clause was, it sounded like Tan Zishu wasn’t exactly gentle. In fact, she might be downright dangerous.

Ji Yao’s hands shook, but she forced herself to keep reading.

The further she got, the colder her palms grew. It felt like her bl00d was freezing in her veins.

This was madness. Inhuman.

And the scariest part? Rumors suggested that this wasn’t the first contract of its kind. Ji Yao didn’t even want to guess how many people had already been used and discarded by Tan Zishu.

“Why one year?”

Ji Yao clearly remembered the tabloids saying Tan Zishu’s canaries never lasted more than a month. Why was her contract a full year?

“Oh, that,” Tan Zishu said, resting her chin in her hand, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“Changing people every month is just too much trouble. Didn’t you notice how I added more rules for long-term arrangements?”

Ji Yao was furious.

Without another word, she ripped the contract into pieces—

Not just that, she was fully prepared to shove the scraps in Tan Zishu’s smug face.

To hell with this!

Tan Zishu, you garbage Alpha!

But then, the system’s voice rang in her mind:

“Mission #2: Accept the terms. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination. Time limit: ten minutes.”

Ji Yao froze. “…”

Tan Zishu noticed her hesitation and smirked.
“What’s wrong? Regretting it? Go on, keep tearing.”

Why Mission #2? Ji Yao asked the system internally. Are there more? I just have to agree to the ‘request’? Are all missions mandatory?

System: “Missions are randomly generated. Yes, there will be more. Some are critical to the main storyline. Others have lighter consequences if failed.”

Main storyline?

Ji Yao thought maybe heaven itself had grown sick of Tan Zishu’s mess and sent her back from the grave to clean it up.

So this mission… must be part of the core plot.

She took a breath, forcing herself to calm down.

Then she looked up and flashed a fake smile.
“No, I’m not regretting it. I just think… a one-year term is too short.”

“Oh? But what if you perform badly and try to drag things out?” Tan Zishu tilted her head, feigning seriousness. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Ji Yao picked up a piece of the torn contract.
“Clause thirteen. ‘During sensitivity periods, Party B is obligated to fulfill all of Party A’s physical needs. Party A bears no responsibility for Party B’s safety.’”
“I didn’t object to that. Doesn’t that show my sincerity? If I’m willing to accept even this, why worry about me dragging things out?”

“I’m just an ordinary person. If you ever tire of me, you can drop me anytime. I won’t cling or beg. I’m easy to get rid of.”

Tan Zishu listened quietly. Her gaze sharpened slightly at the mention of clause thirteen, a subtle flicker of surprise in her eyes.

After Ji Yao finished, she finally spoke:

“Alright. You’re starting to convince me.”