Transmigrated Into a Heartless Scumbag Alpha - Chapter 21

Perhaps the expression on Song Yi’s face was too shocked, causing Zhou Zhou to take two panicked steps back.

“I… I’m sorry, Miss Song, I…” Zhou Zhou suddenly realized her unconscious action had crossed a line. She wanted to explain but stumbled over her words, her face filled with distress.

Song Yi recovered and, seeing Zhou Zhou so frightened, silently scolded herself for making a mountain out of a molehill.

She was the one who had asked Zhou Zhou for help, yet now she’d made things awkward.

“It’s fine.” Song Yi smiled reassuringly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Do I have flour on my lips too?” Song Yi asked casually, as if nothing had happened.

Zhou Zhou nodded vigorously.

If Miss Song’s lips hadn’t been dusted with flour, she would never have touched them. No—even if they were, she shouldn’t have. Yet she hadn’t hesitated at all, reaching out to wipe them without a second thought. Lips were such an intimate area; she should have considered carefully before acting.

Zhou Zhou was deeply remorseful, feeling she’d betrayed Miss Song’s trust.

“What’s next?” Miss Song’s gentle voice pulled Zhou Zhou from her tangled thoughts.

Zhou Zhou blinked. She saw Miss Song looking perfectly composed, a faint smile on her lips, as if the earlier incident hadn’t bothered her at all. The tense thread in Zhou Zhou’s mind, which had been berating herself, suddenly loosened.

“Zhou Zhou?” Not receiving a reply, Song Yi tilted her head slightly, her gaze questioning.

“Oh… I’ll take it from here.” Zhou Zhou hurried forward. Song Yi stepped aside, watching as Zhou Zhou deftly divided the large dough, then rolled it out into thin sheets with a rolling pin before cutting them into squares.

Gradually, Zhou Zhou became fully absorbed in her task. After preparing the wrappers, she quickly moved on to the filling.

Making the filling was usually labor-intensive—chopping meat required considerable effort. But here in Miss Song’s home, it became effortless and quick. What would take manual labor dozens of minutes was done in seconds with a meat grinder, producing fine minced meat.

She even added a section of seasonal sweet loofah, something she’d originally done to stretch the meat but had unexpectedly improved the texture. She hoped Miss Song would enjoy it too.

From the sidelines, Song Yi found the kitchen a magical place, watching Zhou Zhou work as if performing sleight of hand.

Curious, she moved closer when Zhou Zhou started wrapping the wontons.

Zhou Zhou paused to look at her, eyes wide with surprise. Song Yi smiled. “Don’t mind me.”

Zhou Zhou nodded and resumed her work, though she couldn’t focus as intently as before.

Song Yi attempted to wrap one herself, only to realize that what Zhou Zhou made look easy—forming perfect wontons in seconds—felt incredibly awkward in her own hands.

Ugly!

So ugly!

Unbelievably hideous!

Song Yi never imagined her confidence would be crushed by something as simple as wrapping wontons.

Then, she heard a soft, sweet voice beside her. “Miss Song, like this.”

Zhou Zhou had stopped again, demonstrating the motion slowly for her.

Song Yi tried once more.

“Use a new wrapper.” Only when Zhou Zhou reminded her did Song Yi notice the one in her hand was full of holes, its shape ruined.

Song Yi quickly discarded it and took a fresh one. Under Zhou Zhou’s guidance, she finally managed to produce a passable wonton.

“Thank you.” Song Yi expressed her gratitude happily, feeling an inexplicable excitement. Just wrapping a single wonton somehow gave her more satisfaction than closing a multimillion-dollar project before.

Emotions are hard to conceal, especially when their owner makes no effort to hide them.

Zhou Zhou noticed Miss Song’s beaming eyes and smiling brows, sharing in her joy while finding it strange. Miss Song seemed far more easily pleased than she’d anticipated.

A cheap meal from outside a high school, a $0.25 ice cream, even an unremarkable little wonton.

Zhou Zhou loved seeing Miss Song happy. If possible, she’d gladly make wontons for her forever.

But Miss Song would eventually grow tired of them. Her current enjoyment probably stemmed from novelty.

As the last wonton took shape in Zhou Zhou’s hands, she immediately went to boil the broth. When it reached a rolling boil, she added the wontons and seasoned them, carefully separating the morning’s leftovers from the freshly made ones.

Remembering Miss Song’s complaint about not having enough for breakfast, Zhou Zhou served her a large bowl while settling for the unfinished morning portion herself.

The aroma of wontons filled Song Yi with contentment—perhaps because her own labor had contributed to them.

When Zhou Zhou was about to carry both bowls out barehanded, Song Yi stopped her promptly. “Zhou Zhou, there are heat-resistant gloves here.”

Pink ones, likely chosen by the previous cooking auntie with girlish tastes.

With an amused smile, Song Yi watched Zhou Zhou freeze before walking over to pick up the gloves and personally help her put them on.

Zhou Zhou didn’t dare move, even letting Miss Song lift her hands for her.

Her mind went completely blank as Miss Song carefully fitted the gloves onto her hands.

“All set.” Song Yi smiled reassuringly.

With the gloves on, Zhou Zhou carried the bowls out without feeling any heat from the freshly cooked wontons, yet her heart burned fiercely.

She couldn’t tell—was it Miss Song who lacked clear boundaries, or herself who couldn’t discern them, sometimes presumptuous and other times overly sensitive?

When she looked back, Miss Song had already brought out the other bowl—without gloves, her palms now flushed red.

Unaware of Zhou Zhou’s complicated gaze, Song Yi set down the bowl and went to rinse her hands under cold water at the kitchen sink.

So hot. She felt relieved she’d helped Zhou Zhou with the gloves. Zhou Zhou’s delicate, fair skin would surely have scalded, whereas she could handle it better.

After drying her hands with a light shake, she noticed two nearly empty water glasses by the sink. Refilling them both, she returned to the living room.

Zhou Zhou stood waiting by the table, the two bowls already equipped with porcelain spoons.

“Have a seat. You can relax at home,” Song Yi said with a smile, though Zhou Zhou only sat after she did.

Song Yi didn’t press the matter—if this made Zhou Zhou more comfortable, so be it.

The living room dining table, rectangular and more spacious than the previous small tea table, created noticeable distance between them. The overhead lighting had also shifted from warm yellow to stark white.

Noticing these changes stirred indescribable feelings in Song Yi. She picked up her water glass and drained it, then spotting another glass nearby, stood to hand it to Zhou Zhou.

Zhou Zhou rose hurriedly, overwhelmed by the gesture.

Song Yi pressed her lips together—they still carried a floury taste. “I just refilled the glass you were using earlier.”

After placing the glass in front of Zhou Zhou, Song Yi turned back to her seat, completely unaware of the astonishment in Zhou Zhou’s eyes.

Wasn’t this the water glass she had been using earlier?

Zhou Zhou lowered her head to examine it repeatedly, confirming that the glass she had used before wasn’t just frosted but also had engravings—unlike the plain one before her now.

Nervously, she glanced up at Miss Song across the table and saw that her original glass was now on the other side.

The water inside… had already been finished by Miss Song.

Noticing the gaze from across the table, Song Yi also looked up, only to find Zhou Zhou burying her head in her Wonton, not meeting her eyes.

She shook her head with a faint smile—she was being too paranoid.

Song Yi continued eating her Wonton, completely oblivious to the storm raging in Zhou Zhou’s heart at that moment.

A misunderstanding… yes, just a misunderstanding. Zhou Zhou repeated this to herself.

“These Wontons taste a little different from the ones this morning,” Song Yi remarked after a few bites, pausing. Across from her, Zhou Zhou looked up, her eyes filled with inexplicable unease and fear.

Song Yi’s smile froze, realizing her opinion must hold great importance to Zhou Zhou, hence the nervous reaction.

“But they’re even better than this morning’s,” Song Yi added, her lips curving again. She spoke the truth, with full confidence.

Yet Zhou Zhou’s expression didn’t seem to relax.

“Is there something else that hasn’t been settled?” Song Yi set down her spoon and asked. “You can tell me if there’s any problem.”

Her tone was sincere. Zhou Zhou looked at her, hesitating several times before finally shaking her head lightly.

Zhou Zhou simply couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Speaking up would only make Miss Song feel awkward—perhaps even find it hard to accept. Better to let this small misunderstanding remain a forgotten secret.

After both finished dinner and tidied up, Song Yi suggested Zhou Zhou return to her room first to take a bath and rest. She reassured her not to stress too much about her duties as the Villa Butler—there was plenty of time to adjust.

Zhou Zhou went upstairs first, noticing Miss Song still sitting on the living room sofa. She didn’t ask further.

Miss Song’s private life wasn’t something she had the standing or authority to inquire about.

Back in her room, as she unpacked her travel bag, she received a text from Miss Song:

You can use everything in the room directly.

Zhou Zhou stared at the message for a few seconds before replying with a simple “Thank you.”

Miss Song was truly a generous employer. She would work hard to repay her kindness.

After changing into slippers and organizing her clothes, Zhou Zhou opened the wardrobe to put them away—only to find it already filled with beautiful summer dresses, neatly hung on wooden hangers and exuding a faint fragrance.

Silently, she placed the clothes draped over her wrist back into her travel bag. They would look out of place here.

Gazing at the wardrobe full of lovely outfits, she recalled Miss Song’s message—she could use everything in the room. Did that include these clothes?

Like analyzing a reading comprehension passage, Zhou Zhou scrutinized the words repeatedly.

Perhaps because Miss Song was wealthy, even the Villa Butler couldn’t appear too shabby.

Finally, Zhou Zhou reached into the wardrobe, carefully examining each dress and skirt.

Adolescence is the age of vanity, yet Zhou Zhou could only envy other girls for their bright and beautiful clothes. She was aware of her circumstances—survival itself was a struggle, leaving little room for such fantasies. Having a school uniform to wear was already a blessing. Only once, at eighteen, had she dared to dream of owning a pretty dress. Sadly, she didn’t even have the money to buy one for herself.

She didn’t even know her exact birthday. The orphanage director had told her the day she was admitted would count as her birthday.

Zhou Zhou’s fingers brushed over a cherry-red spaghetti-strap dress. The fabric was smooth and soft, almost like sleepwear.

Everything before her seemed too beautiful to be real—but could she truly have it?

Her heart pounded as she traced the hem of the dress.

“Zhou Zhou.” Song Yi’s voice came from outside the door, accompanied by a knock.

Zhou Zhou snapped out of her daze. It was Miss Song’s voice. She quickly withdrew her hand from the dress and hurried to open the door.

Miss Song stood outside, her smile radiant as always, as if something delightful had happened.

Zhou Zhou felt her heart race even faster.

“Did I disturb your rest?” Song Yi asked apologetically.

Zhou Zhou shook her head. “Please come in, Miss Song.”

Song Yi hesitated for a moment before stepping into what was now Zhou Zhou’s domain. She had intended to discuss something important, but her gaze drifted to the open wardrobe, and she instinctively walked toward it.

Zhou Zhou held her breath, inexplicably feeling like she’d been caught doing something wrong. Nervously, she followed.

When Song Yi reached the wardrobe and saw the array of dresses inside, she secretly sighed in relief. At least the original Scumbag Alpha had done something useful—these pre-prepared clothes were perfect for Zhou Zhou. She had already told Zhou Zhou that everything in this room was hers to use, so there was no need to worry about appearing overly deliberate if she bought Zhou Zhou new clothes. This way, Zhou Zhou wouldn’t feel awkward accepting them.

“These looks like they’d suit you well.”

Zhou Zhou’s head jerked up, her heart skipping a beat.

Song Yi tilted her head slightly, smiling at her. “Especially that cherry-red one.”