Transmigrated as the Scumbag Alpha of a Cold Movie Queen - Chapter 2

The moment the sixty-minute mark passed, Qi Siyu let go of Gu Qing’s hand—without a shred of hesitation.

Now came the real test of her luck.

Knowing she was historically unlucky, Qi Siyu dutifully went to the restroom to wash her hands and say a little prayer to every god she could think of before drawing her lottery.

If she weren’t in a hospital, she’d have lit incense and bathed first too.

Only visible to her, a system interface now floated in front of her.

The draw screen was very simple: a glittering golden chest in the center, with a large character in the middle: “Draw”.

Qi Siyu took a deep breath and pressed her finger firmly against the golden character.

With a flash of dazzling rainbow lights, the chest opened.

Qi Siyu’s heart pounded. With effects that flashy, the prize has to be something amazing, right?

She wasn’t picky—anything useful to Gu Qing would be great.

Whether it was a Face-Restoration Pill to completely repair Gu Qing’s disfigurement, or Jade Limb Reconnect Ointment to heal her broken leg, anything would help.

Even the Gland Repair Serum would be useful—Gu Qing’s gland, under the influence of Alpha pheromones, would sometimes go into overload or even spiral out of control. The original villain had used that secret to force Gu Qing into marrying her.

Qi Siyu let her mind wander…

As the glow faded, a green icon floated above the chest—a pack of wet wipes.

Qi Siyu slowly pulled a question mark out of the void and screamed internally:

【System!!! Is this a bug?! Why would I draw something like that?!】

【Host, everything is working as intended.】
The system’s tone was perfectly normal, but to Qi Siyu, it oozed with discrimination against the chronically unlucky.

【You can try a 10-draw instead. One guaranteed useful item per 10 draws!】
the system offered sweetly.

Was this her fate—only surviving on guaranteed pity draws?! Qi Siyu felt her heart crack.

She should be grateful, she supposed, that the system didn’t split things into “mini pity” and “full pity” like those greedy mobile games.

【Do single draws accumulate toward a pity pull?】 she asked hopefully.

【Nope. Only 10-pulls count.】
The system’s chipper response felt especially cruel to someone with zero luck.

After a long pause, Qi Siyu let out a deep sigh.

What else could she do but accept her fate?

It’s not like she could uninstall the thing.

At least the system provided a storage backpack with 100 slots—and duplicates didn’t take up extra space. That was surprisingly generous.

Still, Qi Siyu refused to let wet wipes take up any of her precious inventory. She just left them in the hospital restroom.

When she came out, she quietly tiptoed back to her seat beside Gu Qing, itching to grab her hand again.

Gu Qing might be awake, but so what? She couldn’t fight back anyway.

At most, she’d just hate her even more.

If she didn’t rack up as many draws as she could now, there’d be no way once Gu Qing recovered.

Qi Siyu reached out and held Gu Qing’s hand again. This time, Gu Qing didn’t react at all.

She was probably too tired to bother arguing anymore.

Just then—

Ding-dong!

The doorbell startled Qi Siyu so much she sprang up, hands instinctively hiding behind her back.

“Time for a dressing change,” said a nurse, stepping inside with another nurse in tow carrying a medical kit.

“Oh, right.” Qi Siyu stepped aside to give them space, quietly watching their every move.

One nurse lifted the gauze from the left side of Gu Qing’s face to change the dressing, while the other hung a fresh IV drip.

Qi Siyu immediately glanced at Gu Qing’s other hand—wrapped tightly in gauze like a giant paw.

“Um… could you maybe put the IV in her foot instead? Her hand looks a bit swollen…” she suggested meekly.

Stupid system, why did it have to be hand-holding and not foot-holding?

The nurse examined Gu Qing’s hand. “It’s not swollen enough to be an issue.”

Then she expertly inserted the needle into the vein on the back of Gu Qing’s hand.
“The patient has a fractured left leg. She’s been bedridden a while—circulation’s poor. Using her foot could increase the risk of thrombosis.”

“Right, of course,” Qi Siyu nodded obediently, not daring to argue.

While the nurse worked, Qi Siyu took the chance to observe Gu Qing’s injuries. The car crash had been devastating.

Almost nothing on her body had been left unscathed. Even the abrasions were basically minor in comparison.

Qi Siyu remembered clearly: Gu Qing had needed 134 stitches after the accident.

Of course, the original villain—when she got mauled by stray dogs later—had been bitten just as many times.

After the nurses left, Qi Siyu looked longingly at Gu Qing’s IV hand but decided it was too risky to try anything right now.

Only five bottles of fluid—she’d just have to wait them out.

The scent of food wafted through the air, making Qi Siyu’s stomach growl loudly. A glance at the clock: it was already noon.

Time to find food. But what about Gu Qing? Was she even able to eat right now?

Qi Siyu stopped a nurse in the hallway. “Excuse me, can she eat anything yet?”

The nurse, a calm and patient Beta, replied, “At this stage, the patient can have some light, easy-to-digest meals. Our hospital caregivers will feed her at scheduled times. No need to worry.”

Right—this was a private luxury hospital, and Gu Qing was a VIP patient. Normally there would be 24-hour rotation of caregivers.

Qi Siyu didn’t have access to the original owner’s memories, but it wasn’t hard to guess: the original Qi Siyu probably intentionally dismissed the caregivers to do something shady.

She had no plans to reverse that decision.

It was better if caregivers only showed up when absolutely necessary. With others around, it’d be impossible to shamelessly bother Gu Qing and earn draw chances.

After coordinating with the staff, Qi Siyu relaxed and scrolled through food delivery apps.

She was starving.

By the time she returned with her lunch, a caregiver was feeding Gu Qing.

Gu Qing lay quietly, obediently opening her mouth and swallowing. Sunlight filtered through the sheer white curtains, casting a soft glow across her pale face.

There was something fragile and beautiful about her in that moment.

Qi Siyu’s fingers itched—she opened her camera app and took a picture.

Click.

Three pairs of eyes instantly turned toward her.

Qi Siyu awkwardly met Gu Qing’s gaze—those smokey-gray eyes filled with icy mockery.

What, trying to capture her lowest point? Commemorate your “victory”?

Flustered, Qi Siyu quickly looked away.

Even though she wasn’t the original villain, even though she hadn’t done those things—under Gu Qing’s gaze, she still felt a pang of guilt.

She knew how brilliant Gu Qing’s future would be—and in her mind, that somehow made this suffering feel less important.

But that was wrong. Just because she couldn’t relate didn’t mean she should treat it lightly.

Gu Qing, for her part, was stunned.

She’d expected Qi Siyu to react with fury, maybe knock the food bowl to the ground.

That arrogance and entitlement had always defined her. There was no way she could tolerate being mocked—wasn’t that why she was pretending to be gentle now?

Whatever her goal was, it didn’t matter. She was just another enemy.

Trying to defuse the awkwardness, Qi Siyu said, “That looks… tasty. What is it?”

The caregiver, a plainspoken middle-aged Beta, replied flatly, “Mixed vegetable porridge. Carrot, spinach, tomato…”

Qi Siyu coughed lightly. That combo probably doesn’t taste amazing.

Trying to keep the conversation going, she asked, “Any tips for feeding her? Anything I should know?”

“Small bites, slow pace. Be careful not to choke. If you spill anything, wipe it up quickly. Nothing special,” the caregiver answered.

Qi Siyu nodded seriously, carefully studying the process. She was determined to use these little acts of care to slowly thaw Gu Qing’s icy attitude.

After a while, she couldn’t resist. “Can I try?”

The caregiver was just about to nod—she’d seen plenty of couples trying to add “romance” to recovery by feeding each other.

But—

“No need,” Gu Qing cut in coldly. “I’m full.”

She shut her eyes right after, leaving no room for discussion.

Qi Siyu wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. “Did she eat enough?” she asked the caregiver instead.

“She just started eating solids. Can’t eat too much at once,” the caregiver replied.

“Alright, that’s fine,” Qi Siyu said regretfully.

Still, it wasn’t the end of the world. Gu Qing had a long recovery ahead—there’d be plenty of chances to show goodwill.

Qi Siyu stepped out and quickly ate her own lunch, deliberately choosing bland food so the smell wouldn’t tempt Gu Qing.

She then tiptoed back into the room and curled up in a corner where she could still keep an eye on her.

If she couldn’t farm draw chances for now, she’d do some research online.

She opened Weibo and searched Gu Qing’s name.

So far, things looked okay. Her fans were still patiently waiting for her to wake up and explain the rumors.

In the original novel, they only turned on her after her manager signed her up for scandalous reality shows and trashy web dramas.

In other words, there was still hope.

Qi Siyu began compiling a list of those shows in her notes when suddenly—a sweet chocolate scent filled the air.

It had a tangy hint of red wine and fruit—just enough to balance out the richness.

It reminded her of her favorite red wine–chocolate cookies.

But something felt… off. The scent was too strong, almost dizzying. Her heartbeat quickened.

Qi Siyu brushed her bangs back, stood up, and looked out into the hallway—empty.

The source of the scent…

Was Gu Qing.

!!!

It hit her all at once: this was an ABO world—and Gu Qing’s pheromones smelled like red wine and chocolate.

She was going into pheromone overdrive.

Qi Siyu stayed calm and quickly pressed the call button by the bed, also turning on the ventilation system.

In less than a minute, an Omega doctor rushed in with two nurses.

The moment the door opened, the doctor’s face turned pale and she immediately backed out. A high-level Omega’s pheromones could trigger her own heat. She only came back in after putting on a mask.

Qi Siyu followed close behind, eyes fixed on Gu Qing.

Gu Qing’s face, once pale, was now flushed. Her lips and teeth trembled slightly. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, and her disheveled hair clung to her damp skin.

She looked beautiful—and heartbreakingly pitiful.

“It’s a pseudo-heat triggered by the medication,” the doctor diagnosed. “Her body can’t handle inhibitors. President Qi, you’ll need to give her a temporary mark.”

She handed Qi Siyu a few gland patches—used to stop bleeding, reduce swelling, and block pheromones—then turned to leave.

Qi Siyu clutched the lemon-patterned patches and instinctively reached out as if to stop her—

Wait, don’t go!

She didn’t know how to do a temporary mark!