Transmigrated into a Classic Dog-Blood Drama as the Scummy Alpha - Chapter 1

It was nearing midnight, yet one office on the top floor of Qichu Group was still brightly lit. A woman with striking, cold features sat at her desk, writing. Her long, slightly wavy black hair spilled loosely over her shoulders, and the sleeves of her shirt were neatly rolled up to her forearms, revealing arms as fair and delicate as lotus roots. Her slender fingers tapped lightly on the desk, as if lost in thought.

No one could remember how many nights in a row Shen Xian had worked late. She was only twenty-eight, yet already the CEO of Qichu Group. Orphaned at a young age, she had clawed her way to the top through sheer grit and talent. Though her abilities were extraordinary, it was her relentless drive that had truly carried her this far. Even now, having reached the pinnacle of power, she never allowed herself a moment of slack. Colleagues in the company privately called her a workaholic—working past midnight was simply routine for her.

In Shen Xian’s world, work was everything. Countless men and women had tried to cozy up to her, but she never gave them the time of day. Love? What use was it? Could it feed her? Make her money? Bring her joy? If not, then why bother? Falling in love was a waste of time—she’d rather be working.

And so, the president of a major corporation had spent all 28 years of her life single, never having been in a relationship. Work consumed her entirely. She often didn’t even bother going home, sleeping instead in a private resting room adjacent to her office. Tonight was no exception. Though the clock had struck twelve, Shen Xian remained hunched over departmental reports, the starlit city sprawling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her.

But tonight… something felt different. She was especially drained. Lifting her cup of black coffee, she took a bitter sip—its harshness a flavor she’d long grown used to. Pressing her fingers to her temple, she returned her eyes to the reports, but her vision began to blur, her eyelids heavy until they finally shut.

Though her mind remained conscious, she felt herself separated from her body. Shen Xian fought to return to it, but it was futile. A tremendous force pulled her into a swirling vortex—and when she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a hazy, colorless space.

“Welcome, Host, to the Classic Dog-Bl00d Redemption System. Due to chronic overwork and sleep deprivation, your heart suddenly stopped, resulting in death. However, because of your elite status, you’ve been selected by the system to enter a redemption storyline. By correcting the values of an outdated, melodramatic novel and increasing the favorability ratings of key characters, you may continue to exist within the story’s world. Should your favorability drop too low, you will be erased.”

“So I’ve transmigrated into a book? Which character did I end up in?” Shen Xian quickly gathered her thoughts, trying to stay calm. She hadn’t expected overwork and lack of sleep to literally kill her—but at least now, she had a second chance.

“There’s no time to explain further. Please select ‘Accept’ or ‘Decline’ now. Refusal will result in immediate termination of consciousness.” The system’s voice was icy and flat.

What other choice did she have? Shen Xian clicked the “Accept” button without hesitation. Life—even inside a book—was better than death.

In the blink of an eye, her vision blurred, and her consciousness was yanked away as though tugged through the void. When she came to, she was standing outside the gates of a kindergarten. In front of her stood a wary little girl clutching a small backpack, looking up at her with teary eyes. The girl wore a pink top with a little bunny on it, her hair tied into two tiny pigtails—adorably cute.

Shen Xian pinched her arm, sucking in a sharp breath at the pain. Real—so she really had transmigrated.

“Host successfully bound. Consciousness transfer complete. Uploading original plot information now.” The system’s robotic voice rang out in her mind.

A flood of memories surged into Shen Xian’s head. She had entered a dog-bl00d melodrama titled Saying Goodbye to My Scummy Alpha, and had taken over the body of a despicable character: a deadbeat Alpha who borrowed money everywhere, drove her mother to drugs, got divorced, and scared her own child.

Quickly filtering through the information, Shen Xian realized that the original host had just conned 20,000 yuan from her mother and blown it all in three days. Too embarrassed to return home, she had planned to lay low a bit longer before finding a new excuse to scam more money. Everyone around her was sick of her constant borrowing, and no one would lend to her anymore. Yesterday, while loitering around this neighborhood, she had bumped into her daughter—her ex-wife’s child.

The little girl, Shen Tian, had been sweetly waiting for her mom to pick her up. The original host had approached her, exchanged a few words, then asked if she had any pocket money. Terrified of her, Shen Tian had reluctantly handed over ten yuan—the money she had saved to buy bunny-shaped cookies. Too afraid to upset her mother, the girl hadn’t said a word about it at home.

And now, the host had returned to see if her daughter had more cash.

Shen Xian was furious. What kind of trash scams their own child out of ten yuan? The kid was only three and a half—barely a few months into kindergarten!

Since Shen Xian had only just received the plot data, Shen Tian was still clutching her tiny backpack, teary-eyed and fearful that this awful woman might demand money again. Yesterday’s disappointment still lingered—everyone else had tasted the bunny cookies but her. She didn’t want to make her mom cry again, so she had kept quiet. But this was her last ten yuan for the week…

Shen Xian felt utterly exasperated. A company president reduced to this? Trapped in the body of a woman who would scam her toddler?

Her gaze fell on the floating red “-100” above the girl’s forehead. Shen Xian asked the system through clenched teeth, “System, what’s that above her head?”

“That is Shen Tian’s favorability rating. If any of the four required individuals—your parents, your daughter, or your ex-wife—fall below -200, the host will be erased. All four must be raised to full favorability to ensure survival.”

What kind of hell-level start was this? And with the original host’s résumé—barely a college diploma—what job could she even get?

Perhaps sensing her dismay, the system offered a rare consolation: “Don’t worry, Host. Completing system-issued tasks will earn you money as rewards. First mission: Approach Shen Tian and engage in a warm, friendly interaction. Reward: 100 yuan.”

With no better option, Shen Xian forced herself forward. In her previous life, she had never dealt with children—only reports and spreadsheets. And look where that got her.

Awkwardly crouching, she managed a warm smile. “Tiantian, Mommy just came to see you. About the ten yuan from yesterday—Mommy will pay you back, okay? Don’t be scared, come here and let Mommy give you a hug.”

Shen Tian pressed her lips into a tight line, clearly thinking hard. Mommy never hugged her much. She didn’t even live with Mommy. And every time Mommy came over, she made Mama cry. Shen Tian hated bad Mommy.

But some of the other kids whispered that she was the kind of child even her Mommy didn’t want. Shen Tian never told her Mama that, but deep down, she wished her Mommy would hug her too—just once.

Seeing her daughter’s wavering expression, Shen Xian inched closer and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Shen Tian’s body was stiff at first, then lightened as she was lifted into her mother’s arms. A tiny smile bloomed on her face, and her little arms wrapped tightly around Shen Xian’s neck.

Shen Xian smiled back—and saw the red number above her daughter’s head change to “-90.” Her heart clenched slightly. She had only hugged the girl, and the favorability had already gone up by ten points. In the end, she was still just a child.

Ding! The system’s voice returned: “Congratulations, Host. Mission complete. 100 yuan has been deposited into your left pocket.”

With one arm still around Shen Tian, Shen Xian reached into her pocket and found the crisp bill. A hundred yuan. Once, that amount wouldn’t have even covered a meal—but now, it felt like a lifeline. Might as well use it to buy the child a snack. After all, it was the original host who ruined everything—she’d have to fix it, bit by bit.

“Tiantian, want Mommy to take you to buy something yummy?” Shen Xian smiled, bouncing the little girl slightly in her arms. Though, to her dismay, just holding the child for a few minutes had already tired her out. This body was in terrible shape.

Shen Tian quickly clutched her backpack. “But Tiantian only has a tiny bit of pocket money left this week.”

Shen Xian sighed. Such a young child, already worried about money. The more she thought about it, the angrier she felt at the original host. Having a child yet refusing to care for her, pawning off responsibilities on her parents, constantly harassing her ex-wife for cash?

“Mommy has money,” Shen Xian said gently, giving her daughter’s small hand a squeeze. “You can pick out whatever you want, okay?”

Shen Tian hesitated for a long moment, then finally nodded. She rarely got to visit the school store. Money was tight, and Mama worked so hard—she didn’t want to add to her burden. Still… if only her Mommy could be like other mommies—kind, and loving.

Maybe now, just maybe, things could be different.