Toxic Pheromones of a Scumbag Alpha (GL) - Chapter 5
Ji Yao was never a good drinker.
She had a particular quirk—her face would flush red before the alcohol even hit her system.
In her past life, she’d used this as an excuse to escape countless drinking games and social pressure.
Still, she actually liked drinking in small amounts. That slightly tipsy, warm haze helped soften many of life’s burdens.
So, standing in front of Tan Zishu’s fully stocked liquor cabinet, Ji Yao gave it a quick glance, then went straight to the fridge to grab a low-alcohol cocktail.
Yogurt-flavored, of all things.
If Tan Zishu weren’t so insistent on drinking, Ji Yao would’ve preferred to just hand her a cup of warm milk.
“Canned milk?” Tan Zishu raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh catching in her throat as she looked at the pale blue can in Ji Yao’s hand.
“I said I wanted a drink, not something you’d find at a sleepover.”
“It’s a cocktail,” Ji Yao replied, sitting down next to her. She tossed the can over.
“Everything in the cabinet is at least thirty percent alcohol. It’s late—don’t push it.”
Tan Zishu caught the drink, surprised to find that it was cold.
That made her pause.
When she was younger, Ji Yao never let her drink anything cold at night—ever.
Tan Zishu stared at the can, a bit confused.
“It’s cold?”
“Yeah, from the fridge.” Ji Yao glanced at her.
“I figured you could handle it today.”
Tan Zishu blinked, momentarily stunned, then realized Ji Yao was implying something. She said nothing and only lowered her gaze, lips tugging into a faint, awkward smile.
“Hold on a second.”
Tan Zishu stood up and walked over to close the curtains.
Ji Yao popped open her own drink with a metallic snap, the fruity scent bursting out along with the alcohol. She turned her head slightly to avoid the spray, and at that moment, the system chimed in her head with another mission.
System: Mission No. 3: Accept Tan Zishu’s pheromones.
Ji Yao frowned and took a sip.
“What if I can’t smell her pheromones?” she muttered.
She really couldn’t. Why, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because her body hadn’t fully differentiated since being reborn, or maybe she was just a Beta now. Either way, it was a question she should’ve figured out long ago—but from the moment she woke up, she’d rushed straight to find Tan Zishu and hadn’t had a chance to get tested.
The system was quiet for a moment.
Then, in that cold, robotic voice, she heard it mutter softly, as if to itself:
“…Can’t smell them?”
Ji Yao almost choked on her drink.
What kind of system is this?!
Did it just question her?!
“So, does the mission still stand?”
System: Just… try. Smell her. See what happens.
Ji Yao sighed, dragging out her response:
“Fiiine~”
Just then, Tan Zishu came back and popped open her own can. She raised it and lightly tapped it against Ji Yao’s.
For once, the two of them sat calmly and quietly beside each other.
Tan Zishu stole glances at her—only ever when Ji Yao tilted her head back to drink. That was the only time she dared to look, to study her face, without getting caught.
It happened several times.
Finally, Ji Yao lowered her can and turned to her.
“What is it?” she asked.
Tan Zishu looked away quickly.
“Nothing.”
Ji Yao hesitated for a moment, then finally gave in to her lingering doubt. She wanted to test it—to see if she meant anything to Tan Zishu at all.
“Do you think… I look like someone you used to know?”
“Maybe,” Tan Zishu replied. “You do look familiar.”
But this time, she didn’t dare meet Ji Yao’s eyes. She turned away, her tone distant.
“But that was someone I met when I was a kid. It’s been so many years—I’ve forgotten her face.”
The can in Ji Yao’s hand slowly crumpled under her fingers.
Tan Zishu continued,
“I don’t think you actually look that much like her. If you did, I wouldn’t have brought you home.”
“…Oh? Were the two of you not close?”
Ji Yao nearly ground her back teeth from the force of holding herself together.
She had cared for that girl, poured her heart and soul into raising her for seven whole years—only to be repaid with this: “I don’t remember her face.”
She had come back from the dead, reborn with a face that was nearly identical to her former self—and Tan Zishu really didn’t recognize her.
She wasn’t pretending.
She had truly… forgotten.
Ji Yao’s heart sank completely. She sat in silence on the carpet, staring down at the empty can in her hand, gripping it tightly with cold fingers.
“It was always a weird dynamic,” Tan Zishu said, sighing lightly.
“I kept picking fights with her, maybe because I was just going through that rebellious phase. I got so used to pushing back that I didn’t know how else to talk to her. Besides arguing, I didn’t know how to sit down and actually have a conversation.”
She spread her hands helplessly.
“All I knew how to do was resist and talk back.”
Ji Yao could see it now—whether she meant to or not, Tan Zishu had a real talent for making her furious.
Tan Zishu leaned in a little, teasingly.
“Huh? You’re drunk off a cocktail?”
Ji Yao opened her mouth, “I…”
She was about to explain that her face just flushed easily when drinking—something she’d told Tan Zishu as a child—but she suddenly remembered: that was a detail Tan Zishu might still recall.
If she mentioned it now and it triggered a memory… that would ruin everything.
Ji Yao had only dared to act this boldly because she’d already confirmed that Tan Zishu had no memory of her. If there was even the slightest chance that memory resurfaced… she wouldn’t be able to keep pretending.
“Can’t even admit it, huh…”
Ji Yao barely heard Tan Zishu mutter something under her breath before she stood and left the room.
Not long after, she returned—this time with a glass of strong liquor.
Ji Yao frowned and pushed it away.
“I don’t want to drink anymore.”
“Come on. A little alcohol helps with courage—and makes the mood better, too.”
Tan Zishu’s voice was soft, almost like a whisper, right by Ji Yao’s ear.
It was cold and smooth, but carried something darker beneath it—like a siren’s temptation. Unconsciously, Ji Yao reached out and took the glass.
“Are we really doing this tonight?” she asked quietly.
Tan Zishu didn’t answer.
She just drained her second glass—and then a third. One after another. As if she were trying to drown something inside her.
And maybe she was.
Maybe… the one who really needed the courage wasn’t Ji Yao at all.
Seeing that Tan Zishu didn’t respond, Ji Yao silently finished the rest of her drink.
She was getting tipsy now, and out of nowhere, she started joking:
“You know what we look like right now?”
Tan Zishu didn’t answer. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Ji Yao—just kept pouring one drink after another down her throat.
“We’re like two heartbroken drifters,” Ji Yao continued, her voice light but slurred.
“Both just got dumped. Our hearts are full of broken glass, but neither of us knows how to speak about it. So we’re sitting on a frozen park bench at six below, drinking to forget…”
She topped off her glass.
“How did we end up this pathetic?”
By the time the bottle finally ran dry, Tan Zishu had drowned what little self-control she had left. It wasn’t until she reached that dizzy, reckless edge—where she felt like she could do anything—that she finally set her glass down, satisfied.
“Mm.”
“Mm what?” Ji Yao had long forgotten what she’d originally asked. Drunk and dazed, she gave Tan Zishu’s calf a gentle kick, propped her head up, and mumbled,
“Keep drinking.”
They hadn’t even bothered moving somewhere else. The two of them had just sat right there on the floor of the study and drank, casually and carelessly. Afraid of damaging the papers on the desk, they’d chosen instead to lean against the chaise lounge, sitting side by side on the carpet.
Tan Zishu’s voice softened. There was a bitter undertone to it:
“No more. I’m done.”
Ji Yao rested her head against the edge of the chaise lounge.
“What are you so upset about?”
Tan Zishu realized—she really was the stray Ji Yao had described.
That lost, heartbroken vagrant with nowhere to go.
She shifted closer, quietly—then wrapped an arm around Ji Yao’s waist and gently pulled her into her embrace.
The ornate, empty bottle toppled over on the floor. Tan Zishu didn’t bother with it.
She knelt there on the carpet, holding Ji Yao tight—just like she had the first time she was taken out of the orphanage.
And she held her there for a long, long time.