Transmigrated Into a Heartless Scumbag Alpha - Chapter 24

Song Yi could completely understand why Ding Chen found it hard to believe—after all, the original Scumbag Alpha’s misdeeds were no secret.

So, she reiterated, “Dr. Ding, I’m serious.”

Ding Chen’s lips twitched slightly, still struggling to accept Song Yi’s drastic transformation over the past few days. It defied all logic.

“I just woke up. Let me freshen up first before we discuss business. Please wait a moment, Miss Song.”

“Go ahead,” Song Yi agreed understandingly, walking straight to the living room sofa to sit down.

Ding Chen returned to her room with mixed feelings. The idea of Song Yi asking her to research suppressants for Alpha physiological needs was even more absurd than if she’d harbored some predatory intentions.

Yet it was she who’d told Song Yi yesterday that such a drug might be possible. Song Yi’s visit was justified.

As Song Yi’s personal physician, the workload wasn’t heavy—though frequently treating her lovers tested one’s mental fortitude. Most of her time was spent immersed in research, deliberately ignoring some of Song Yi’s more… extreme behaviors. Truthfully, Song Yi was a generous employer.

Her statement yesterday wasn’t baseless. Since becoming Song Yi’s doctor, she’d suspected something was abnormal about Song Yi’s… proclivities, especially the tendency to derive pleasure from harming others. So, she’d conducted private research, hoping to one day help Song Yi while preventing more girls from suffering.

She’d expected disdain, and yesterday’s suggestion had been tentative. Song Yi’s eagerness surprised her.

The first-generation formula was ready but untested—its efficacy and side effects unknown.

Should she tell Song Yi about these preliminary results?

…

Zhou Zhou had also struggled to sleep last night, finally drifting off very late.

Her high school routine was so ingrained that she woke promptly at 5:55 despite insufficient rest. She rose to draw the curtains.

Dawn’s gray light filtered through—the sun hadn’t risen yet.

Stretching by the window, Zhou Zhou headed to the bathroom.

Before bed, she’d reviewed her duties. The Villa Butler’s schedule began at 9 AM. Previously, Miss Song skipped breakfast, requiring only lunch preparation—sometimes not even that, as she seldom stayed home. Often, Miss Song would dismiss staff during her… private engagements, making this an easy job.

But more than the workload, Zhou Zhou wondered: what exactly were these “private engagements”?

After washing up, Zhou Zhou selected a pretty yet modest white half-sleeve dress from the closet, its calf-length skirt pleated like gardenia petals.

Miss Song likely still slept. Zhou Zhou crept downstairs quietly. Though Miss Song traditionally skipped breakfast, they’d shared wontons yesterday morning without complaint. Breakfast being healthy, Zhou Zhou decided to cook—an opportunity to practice culinary skills too.

In the kitchen, she tied on an apron, pulled up saved recipes on her phone, and settled on simple tomato egg noodle soup.

Zhou Zhou meticulously prepared the ingredients according to the recipe, washing the tomatoes cleanly and slicing them, then cracking four eggs into a bowl and stirring them evenly. When the recipe mentioned adding an appropriate amount of salt, she hesitated, eventually looking it up online and adding just a tiny bit, thinking she could adjust the seasoning later if the noodles turned out too bland.

Perhaps due to her genuine lack of talent in cooking, Zhou Zhou spent nearly ten minutes stuck at each step. By the time she finished, it was almost nine o’clock.

She portioned out exactly two bowls. Zhou Zhou tasted it carefully several times to confirm the flavor was just right—not unpalatable—before feeling assured enough to go upstairs and ask Miss Song if she wanted breakfast.

After knocking several times with no response, Zhou Zhou grew worried, recalling Miss Song’s unusual behavior the night before. She pulled out her phone to call, only to notice an unread message:

Zhou Zhou, I had some business to attend to today. Make sure to eat well on your own.

Also, a locksmith will come around noon to change the locks. Just keep an eye on things.

Relief washed over her upon reading the messages, but it was quickly replaced by a pang of disappointment.

She remembered how the staff had mentioned repeatedly last night that Miss Song was rarely home.

Zhou Zhou turned to go downstairs, deciding to eat both bowls of noodles herself to avoid waste.

To her surprise, a woman was already standing by the dining table, exuding an air of aloof indifference. Noticing Zhou Zhou’s approach, the woman glanced over, the corners of her lips lifting slightly with a brightness like sunshine after snow. Zhou Zhou recognized her—Miss You, the woman who seemed to share a complicated relationship with Miss Song.

“Miss You, are you here to see Miss Song? She’s gone out,” Zhou Zhou said, doing her best to fulfill her duties as the housekeeper.

You Xuechu kept her gaze fixed on Zhou Zhou without answering.

After a moment, she spoke: “That dress suits you.”

Zhou Zhou paused mid-step, instinctively looking down. She was still wearing the pink apron over her white dress and wasn’t sure whether Miss You meant the apron or the dress underneath.

You Xuechu, of course, was referring to the white dress. Her eyes held a trace of astonishment as she beckoned Zhou Zhou over, who then continued walking toward her.

As Miss Song’s housekeeper, entertaining her guests was presumably part of her responsibilities.

“You know, I once asked Song Yi for this very dress, but she refused, saying it wasn’t my style,” You Xuechu remarked, her tone tinged with regret. Zhou Zhou was taken aback.

Crossing her arms, You Xuechu made it clearer: “This dress was something Song Yi saved for her future girlfriend.”

Zhou Zhou’s eyes widened in shock. “No, Miss You, you’ve misunderstood. Miss Song said this was part of the housekeeper’s benefits.”

“Is that so?” You Xuechu chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Song Yi has a peculiar habit—she loves buying clothes for her future girlfriend.”

Zhou Zhou pressed her lips together tightly, silent.

“Have you slept with Song Yi?” You Xuechu asked bluntly.

Zhou Zhou’s eyes widened in horror.

“Guess not yet.” You Xuechu patted Zhou Zhou’s shoulder lightly. “Song Yi really treats you differently.”

She hoped it wasn’t just her imagination—it seemed Song Yi was treating Zhou Zhou with the privileges of a real girlfriend.

Zhou Zhou bit her lower lip, her face flushing crimson. “Miss You, please don’t misunderstand. There’s nothing between Miss Song and me.”

“Don’t misunderstand,” You Xuechu smiled. “Song Yi and I are in the past now. I just want to give you some advice—you can date Song Yi, but never give her your heart. Never.”

“Understand?” You Xuechu spoke to Zhou Zhou with the earnest tone of an elder giving counsel.

Zhou Zhou didn’t understand.

Though she didn’t know what had happened between Miss Song and Miss You before, in Miss You’s words, Miss Song seemed like some kind of heartless playgirl—completely different from the image Zhou Zhou had of her.

Her thoughts in turmoil, Zhou Zhou didn’t know how to respond.

Just then, a phone suddenly rang.

Glancing down, she saw it was a call from Miss Song. Excited, Zhou Zhou tapped the answer button.

But the voice that came through wasn’t Miss Song’s.

“Hello? Zhou Zhou? This is Ding Chen. We met yesterday—I came to examine you.”

“Dr. Ding?” Zhou Zhou gripped the phone tightly. “Has something happened to Miss Song?”

“Well…” Ding Chen turned to look at Song Yi, currently strapped to the operating table, and said with a headache, “Miss Song is indeed here with me. The situation isn’t great. I might need you to come over—I’ll send you the address.”

The call ended. Zhou Zhou frantically pulled off her apron to leave when You Xuechu stopped her.

“Don’t panic yet. Get ready first—I’ll have the driver take you there.”