Transmigrated Into a Heartless Scumbag Alpha - Chapter 23

No, no… Absolutely impossible.

Almost as soon as the thought surfaced, Song Yi immediately denied it.

It must be the influence of the original Scumbag Alpha’s body. Although Song Yi enjoyed reading novels as a brief escape from work pressure, deep down she didn’t believe in genuine love in this world—perhaps because she’d never witnessed it in real life.

In her original world, Song Yi’s parents were in a business alliance marriage between wealthy families. After her birth, they essentially lived separate lives. Song Yi had never felt even a trace of affection from them—neither between her parents nor toward her.

From childhood, she knew she was the future heir to the conglomerate. Every step she took was meticulously planned by the family. She found such an existence rather meaningless, but beyond doing what was expected of her, she didn’t know what she truly wanted.

At eighteen, when both parents were still alive, the family took a short trip together—physically present but spiritually disconnected. The three-day journey began with Song Yi’s quiet anticipation: Would her family finally share even a fraction of the tender warmth described in books?

Instead, at every stop, her parents only took her to meet industry titans. That was the real purpose of this trip.

She remembered one semi-retired tycoon who’d taken up residence in a temple. After an important meeting there, the monk-robed magnate smiled benevolently and said, “Young Song, draw a marriage fortune stick. It’s very accurate.”

Song Yi glanced back at her parents, who nodded approvingly—likely because the suggestion came from this recluse. They didn’t consider it a waste of precious time.

Kneeling on the rush cushion before the Buddha statue, Song Yi felt nothing as she shook the cylinder of sticks. She didn’t believe in such things, even found temple matchmaking absurd.

She remembered clearly—that day, she shook the cylinder with closed eyes for a long time before a bamboo sticks finally leaped out. It struck the polished stone floor with a crisp sound. Opening her eyes, Song Yi bent to retrieve her marriage fortune.

“Come with me to have it interpreted,” the semi-monastic tycoon kindly offered.

Song Yi stared expressionlessly at the stick, then suddenly smirked. “No need.” She turned it to show the inscription: “Star-crossed loner, destined solitude.”

The tycoon’s smile froze in awkwardness. Song Yi’s parents mirrored her own indifference. Her father even remarked, “Perfect for an alliance marriage to strengthen the family.” Her mother might have sighed—or perhaps Song Yi imagined it.

“Draw another,” the tycoon urged warmly. Song Yi declined. This one suited her fine. She took the stick home, placing it in a used pen holder as motivation.

“Song Yi, Song Yi,” she’d tell herself, “even heaven declares you a star-crossed loner. So, you must rely solely on your own efforts.”

After her parents passed away, it was indeed her alone who managed to hold together the crumbling company. Those old foxes refused to accept that someone so young could occupy such a high position, standing above them. Methodically, she used legal means to defend her rights as the sole legitimate heir. When they doubted her capabilities, she worked overtime to clarify all company affairs, pulling shareholders who had originally supported her parents to her side. Once she had firmly established her footing, she didn’t slack off in the slightest, managing the company exceptionally well.

She truly did it—she could handle everything alone.

But when she returned home and saw the least romantic-looking “love fortune stick” she had placed in her pen holder to motivate herself, she unexpectedly felt a pang of loneliness. To dispel this loneliness, Song Yi turned to reading novels.

She found that novels were always more beautiful than reality. No matter how tragic the process, the endings were mostly happy. She even genuinely empathized with the characters in the stories. All the complex emotions that the strong, unyielding Song Yi of reality had no need for came flooding out. She would sympathize with Zhou Zhou’s suffering in the novels, admire her rebirth after hardship, and sigh in relief when the Scumbag Alpha finally got their deserved punishment at the end.

Yet she felt that Zhou Zhou shouldn’t have had to endure such pain—or rather, her life had already been hard enough before encountering the Scumbag Alpha. While reading the twists and turns of the story, she couldn’t help but wonder why Zhou Zhou’s birth parents and fiancée couldn’t have appeared sooner.

She didn’t know how to define her feelings toward the fictional Zhou Zhou. Sympathy? Pity? It seemed to be both.

After transmigrating into the novel, Zhou Zhou was no longer just a fictional character to her. She had truly felt Zhou Zhou’s warmth—they were both real people now. She was even more confused about what she felt for Zhou Zhou.

Especially with the original Scumbag Alpha’s presence lingering in the middle. That persona would often surface unexpectedly, and whenever it did, it wanted to do those things to Zhou Zhou. Song Yi wasn’t sure whether her occasional urges toward Zhou Zhou were entirely influenced by the original Scumbag Alpha’s instincts. She preferred to believe it was, along with the effects of pheromones—anything to avoid acknowledging any inappropriate emotions of her own.

…

In the next room, after Song Yi left, Zhou Zhou, freed from the oppressive presence of the Alpha, slumped weakly to the floor.

She raised a hand and lightly touched the back of her neck, where Miss Song had touched her. The spot still felt warm, and her face burned along with it.

“Lock the door.” Miss Song’s parting reminder echoed in her mind. Zhou Zhou forced herself up to lock the door, then leaned against it without moving, closing her eyes to listen quietly for any sounds from Miss Song’s side.

Silence.

Zhou Zhou wasn’t sure whether the rooms in Miss Song’s house were just soundproofed or if something had happened to her. After waiting for over ten minutes, she unlocked the door, stepped out, and walked to Miss Song’s door, gathering the courage to knock.

When the knocking sound reached her, Song Yi thought she had misheard and ignored it.

When the knocking came again, she walked to the door. There were only two people in this villa now—herself and Zhou Zhou. The one knocking could only be Zhou Zhou.

Sure enough, Zhou Zhou’s concerned voice soon came from the other side.

“Miss Song, are you alright?”

Song Yi leaned against the door and found herself inexplicably wanting to laugh. So she curled her lips into a smile. After seeing her on the verge of losing control again, was Zhou Zhou still unafraid of her?

Smiling at first, Song Yi gradually found herself unable to laugh anymore.

“I’m fine. You should go back and rest,” Song Yi’s voice came out weak and listless.

Standing outside the door, Zhou Zhou lowered her knocking hand, clenching it into a fist. Knowing it wasn’t appropriate to press further, she simply said, “Miss Song, contact me anytime if you need me,” before returning to her own room.

Song Yi leaned the back of her head against the door, dazed for several seconds. She only responded with a soft “Okay” after hearing the neighboring door close.

That night, Song Yi lay awake until dawn. Early the next morning, before daybreak, she got up to visit Dr. Ding. By the time she drove to Ding Chen’s home, the sky had just begun to lighten.

Ding Chen had just woken up and hadn’t even had time to wash up when the doorbell rang. It was hard not to be shocked—she suspected some criminal might be at the door. Peering through the peephole, she found someone even more surprising than a criminal. Her drowsiness vanished instantly as she hurriedly threw on a loose white robe before daring to open the door.

Surely Song Yi wouldn’t be that deranged, Ding Chen thought fearfully. She was a beta—if Song Yi had any intentions toward her, she would have acted long ago.

But then again, Song Yi had gifted her an entire villa complete with a medical room and laboratory. Could there really be some hidden motive?

One second before opening the door, Ding Chen ruffled her hair even more messily. She had just woken up and hadn’t freshened up—even if Song Yi were deranged, she wouldn’t be desperate enough to go that far, right?

The so-called “deranged” and “desperate” Song Yi merely glanced at Ding Chen before looking away upon entering. “I’m so sorry to disturb you this early,” she apologized, “but I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking about what you said yesterday—that developing a drug to completely suppress an Alpha’s physiological desires might not be impossible.”

Huh?

Ding Chen, with her disheveled hair, frowned deeply.

She had only said that casually yesterday.

Was Song Yi actually serious?

But why would she want to suppress her own desires when she was perfectly fine?

Rubbing her eyes, Ding Chen found her glasses and put them on, carefully observing her peculiar employer before cautiously saying, “Miss Song, forcibly extinguishing human desires isn’t advisable. Prolonged suppression can easily lead to… deviancy.”

An image flashed through Song Yi’s mind—her uncontrolled urge to touch Zhou Zhou’s scent gland yesterday. Now that was deviant.