Transmigrated Into a Heartless Scumbag Alpha - Chapter 13

Song Yi rolled out of bed and rushed downstairs without even slipping on her slippers.

She stopped in her tracks when she reached the living room on the first floor, spotting the slender figure in the kitchen.

Zhou Zhou was making breakfast, wearing a golden sunflower apron tied in a bow at the back. Hearing the noise, she turned her head and saw Song Yi with disheveled hair and bare feet, tilting her head in confusion.

“Good morning,” Song Yi greeted awkwardly, her toes curling against the cool floor.

“Good morning,” Zhou Zhou smiled at her. “Breakfast is almost ready. Miss Song, you can go upstairs to freshen up before eating.”

“…Okay.”

Song Yi glanced down at herself, then quickly turned and hurried back upstairs.

Only when she was sure Zhou Zhou could no longer see her did she let out a sigh, closing her eyes in regret.

So embarrassing.

So embarrassing.

She had never been this embarrassed in her life.

Song Yi rubbed her forehead helplessly. She had dashed around like a madwoman just now. The moment she opened her bedroom door, she could already smell the food, yet she had let her brain shut down and charged ahead recklessly.

Though Zhou Zhou hadn’t left, Song Yi still didn’t dare to dawdle. She quickly got herself ready and descended the stairs again, her self-reflection still unfinished, just in time to see Zhou Zhou carrying out two plates of something steaming with broth.

Just from the aroma, she could tell it was far better than anything she could cook.

Her appetite piqued, Song Yi stared at the steaming food on the table and asked, “It smells amazing. What is it?”

“Wontons,” Zhou Zhou replied, a little shy. “This is the only thing I know how to make. I hope it suits your taste, Miss Song.”

“Wontons?” Song Yi looked up at Zhou Zhou in surprise. She had checked the fridge last night and didn’t recall seeing any wonton wrappers.

“You made the wrappers yourself?”

Zhou Zhou hesitated, then nodded. Most of her time was spent at school, eating cafeteria food, so she rarely had the chance to cook.

But back in the orphanage as a child, holiday activities often involved kneading dough and making wontons together. After doing it so many times, she had gotten the hang of it. Waking up this morning, she thought she had nothing to repay Miss Song with—at the very least, she could make her breakfast.

“Did it take you long?” Song Yi’s gaze softened as she looked at Zhou Zhou. Though she rarely cooked herself, common sense told her that kneading dough was no easy task.

“Not too bad,” Zhou Zhou blinked, her eyes clear and bright like stars in the night sky. “I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I got up.”

Song Yi nodded, an inexplicable ache rising in her chest.

She took a few steps forward, took Zhou Zhou’s hand, and led her into the kitchen. Zhou Zhou reacted a beat too late, unsure what Miss Song intended to do, her heart fluttering nervously.

Her palm even seemed to grow sweaty. Just as she was about to pull her hand away, Miss Song released her first, then leaned in closer. Zhou Zhou’s eyes widened in panic as she took a step back, only to bump into the kitchen counter.

“Don’t be afraid,” Song Yi chuckled lightly, pulling Zhou Zhou a little closer but maintaining the last bit of distance between them.

Zhou Zhou, utterly bewildered, simply lowered her head.

Song Yi reached both arms around Zhou Zhou’s back, as if about to pull her into an embrace.

Zhou Zhou stared at the hands slipping past either side of her waist, frozen in place. But the touch she had braced herself for never came.

A few seconds later, Song Yi untied the apron from Zhou Zhou and hung it back in its place. “You forgot this.”

Zhou Zhou blushed as she watched Song Yi’s retreating figure, lowering her head when the other woman glanced back.

“Wash your hands and eat,” Song Yi reminded, completely unaware that her earlier actions had been misinterpreted by Zhou Zhou.

Zhou Zhou followed her, washed her hands, and was immediately handed a dry towel.

She stared blankly for a moment before accepting it. “Thank you, Miss Song.”

It wasn’t until she sat at the dining table—the same small tea table from last night—that Zhou Zhou finally snapped out of her daze.

Miss Song was such a considerate person.

Was Miss Song this considerate with everyone?

Zhou Zhou couldn’t figure it out. She had only just met Miss Song—how could she presume to understand her character?

She shook her head slightly to herself.

“What are you thinking about?” Song Yi had already eaten several plump meat-filled dumplings and was puzzled to see Zhou Zhou hadn’t touched hers yet.

Zhou Zhou looked up and, without thinking, blurted out, “I should leave.”

“Thank you… for your care, Miss Song.”

Once the words were out, she felt a wave of relief, as if a weight had been lifted. Zhou Zhou stared unblinkingly at Song Yi, waiting for her response.

Song Yi lowered her head, stirring the dumplings in her bowl lightly with a spoon.

“They’re quite good.”

“There are more in the fridge, uncooked. If you’d like to eat them again, Miss Song, you can just boil water—it’s very convenient.”

Zhou Zhou immediately clamped her mouth shut.

Miss Song lived in a place like this, owned multiple properties, and could move residences on a whim—she must be incredibly wealthy. What couldn’t she eat?

Saying the dumplings were good was probably just politeness. How could Zhou Zhou take it seriously and say something like that?

Song Yi finished the remaining dumplings in silence before speaking. “Thank you. Now I have breakfast for tomorrow.”

Zhou Zhou looked up, confused.

“Dr. Ding said the first Heat period requires a few more days of observation,” Song Yi said carefully. She hadn’t expected Zhou Zhou to want to leave after just one night. “If you don’t want to share a room, you can stay in the guest room next door.”

“It’s not that…” Zhou Zhou opened her mouth but didn’t know how to explain.

Song Yi waited quietly for her answer. Zhou Zhou finally said weakly, “I know my body is fine now. I don’t want to trouble you any further, Miss Song.”

Seeing Zhou Zhou’s determination to leave, Song Yi didn’t press further.

“Alright.” Song Yi stood and began clearing the table. Zhou Zhou hadn’t touched her dumplings yet and was still hesitating when Song Yi returned, sitting back down across from her.

“If you’re leaving, at least eat first. Don’t rush—I’ll take you.”

“Miss Song…”

“Eat first.”

Zhou Zhou lowered her head and ate, her mind preoccupied, making the food tasteless.

Once she finished, she carried the dishes to the kitchen, but Song Yi stopped her before she could wash them. “Don’t bother.”

“Oh… then I’ll be going, Miss Song.”

Song Yi caught her arm. “Wait one minute. I’ll drive you. It’s too remote here—you won’t find a taxi.”

Zhou Zhou glanced at the warm hand holding her arm and nodded faintly. She had no money for a taxi and no idea how to navigate the area.

Song Yi went upstairs briefly and returned with a box. Zhou Zhou recognized it—it was the one Dr. Ding had brought yesterday.

“Zhou Zhou, although you seem fine now, you might not realize that your control over your pheromones isn’t strong enough. Put on this barrier patch—don’t let any ill-intentioned Alphas catch your scent.”

Was Miss Song worried about her?

Zhou Zhou softly replied, “Okay,” as she took the box.

Song Yi chose a discreet black Mercedes from the garage and drove herself. She already knew where Zhou Zhou was headed, but to keep up appearances, she still asked for the address and set the navigation accordingly.

Nancheng No. 2 High School was a prestigious institution among ordinary schools, with many top students from modest backgrounds. It frequently produced top scorers in both liberal arts and sciences in the national college entrance exams. Last year, the number of students admitted to key universities even surpassed that of elite private high schools—though many from the latter often went abroad directly.

Throughout the drive, Song Yi focused on the road, not initiating conversation. She could feel Zhou Zhou’s occasional glances from the passenger seat.

Too timid to look openly—it seemed Zhou Zhou was still somewhat afraid of her.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t be in such a hurry to leave.

“Just stop here,” Zhou Zhou urged anxiously before they reached the school gate.

Song Yi complied, pressing the brakes.

“Thank you, Miss Song.” Zhou Zhou stepped out, standing on the sidewalk and clutching the metal box of barrier patches tightly. Her gaze at Song Yi held a trace of reluctance.

Song Yi beckoned her again. Thinking there was more to say, Zhou Zhou hesitated before leaning back into the car. Song Yi slipped a sky-blue phone into her arms.

“My number’s saved in it. Call me if you need anything.”