When the Scumbag A Got the Dog-Licking Script - Chapter 21

Time seemed to freeze. Yu Jinzhao didn’t know how long she had been staring at Pei Daowan—it felt like an eternity, yet also like only fifteen minutes had passed. Then, she nodded abruptly. “That’s enough.”

She no longer needed to look at Pei Daowan. The image of that moment had been indelibly imprinted on her mind. She didn’t need a model anymore; all she needed was to capture her beauty.

She remembered it just like that? Her memory is quite impressive!

“When will you finish the painting?”

Yu Jinzhao began packing up her partially unfurled tools, still answering Pei Daowan’s question. “It might take a long time.”

Pei Daowan was surprised. Though she knew nothing about painting, she assumed creating a single artwork would be relatively simple. How could it possibly take so long?

Sensing her confusion, Yu Jinzhao continued, “I originally thought I could finish it tonight. But seeing you made me realize I was too arrogant. It’s not just that I haven’t touched a brush in ages; I simply can’t capture your beauty as it is now.”

Having said this, Yu Jinzhao seemed to feel it wasn’t enough and continued to praise, “You’re too beautiful. I don’t dare to paint you. I feel like it would be presumptuous.”

If these words had been spoken by someone else or in a different setting, Pei Daowan would have found them utterly cheesy. She had heard countless similar remarks, many even more exaggerated than Yu Jinzhao’s.

But gazing into Yu Jinzhao’s clear, luminous eyes, she felt no repulsion or discomfort. Perhaps Yu Jinzhao’s sincerity was so disarming that it stirred a touch of shyness within her.

This was rare. Pei Daowan knew all too well the nature of Alphas. Even though she knew Yu Jinzhao wasn’t a true Alpha, once someone was associated with that identity, how could they be any different?

She admitted she harbored some prejudice against Alphas, which was why she typically avoided interacting with them and loathed hearing such flattery. She wasn’t a naive teenager who would be swept away by sweet talk.

To her, such romantic declarations were merely tiresome and laughable—utterly lacking in self-awareness.

But tonight, when these words came from Yu Jinzhao’s lips, Pei Daowan realized their true power for the first time.

A faint tingling spread through her chest, leaving her momentarily disoriented. Yet unwilling to lose face or appear inferior, she met Yu Jinzhao’s gaze directly.

Her heart raced involuntarily, a novel emotion surging within her. Suddenly, she regretted her deliberate attempts to provoke Yu Jinzhao.

Before Pei Daowan could delve deeper into her thoughts, Yu Jinzhao chuckled softly and recited, “There is a beautiful woman, graceful and radiant. To meet her by chance fulfills my heart’s desire.”

Pei Daowan froze, unable to immediately grasp the meaning. She had never heard these words before, but their implication was clear.

“It’s a saying from my world,” Yu Jinzhao explained. “I thought it suited tonight perfectly, so I wanted to share it with you.”

Pei Daowan desperately tried to discern hidden motives in Yu Jinzhao’s eyes—a predatory gaze, possessiveness toward an Omega, or a hunter’s hunger for prey.

But there was nothing. It was as if Yu Jinzhao genuinely admired her beauty, a heartfelt appreciation that left Pei Daowan utterly bewildered.

Her beauty had never brought her any advantages. In both her past and present lives, it had only caused her trouble.

She understood the principle that possessing a precious treasure invites misfortune. Sometimes she even wished she weren’t so beautiful. But now, as she used her face to seduce Yu Jinzhao, something seemed to be slipping beyond her control.

Yu Jinzhao clearly admired her beauty, but it seemed to be nothing more than that—like a child admiring a flower, delighted and joyful, but without deeper intentions. This pure admiration wasn’t what Pei Daowan wanted.

She would have preferred Yu Jinzhao to harbor selfish desires, such as wanting to possess her. That way, she could have used her without any guilt. But Yu Jinzhao seemed to have no such motives, only genuine appreciation.

At this thought, anger surged within Pei Daowan again. Was her charm failing, or was Yu Jinzhao simply too good at pretending?

Losing her composure, she issued a dismissal: “Alright, since you say you’ve memorized everything, go back and practice your painting.”

Pei Daowan’s demeanor shifted instantly. Where moments ago she had been calm as water, radiating a proud confidence, her eyes now deepened with a coldness that kept others at arm’s length.

Though Yu Jinzhao didn’t understand the sudden change, she accepted it. She felt a pang of regret at not being able to see Pei Daowan tonight, wondering when she would have another chance to look at her like this again.

After putting away her tools, Yu Jinzhao politely said goodnight and closed the door.

The soft click of the latch was barely audible, as subtle as Yu Jinzhao herself—always measured and proper. Yet Pei Daowan couldn’t suppress a surge of irritation.

With a soft click, all outside sounds were sealed away. Pei Daowan was alone in the room again. They had retreated to their separate quarters, back to their polite, distant interactions.

Pei Daowan couldn’t help but twitch her nose, catching a faint scent lingering in the air—a pheromone signature?

It was different from before. The other person’s pheromones had smelled repulsive.

Could a person’s pheromone scent change with their character? Pei Daowan sniffed again, but the air was now clear, as if the scent had been a mere illusion.

What about Yu Jinzhao? What would her pheromones smell like? What kind of pheromones would she like? What kind of pheromones would be compatible with her?

In an instant, these questions flooded Pei Daowan’s mind, clamoring for attention and making it impossible for her to ignore them. She pinched herself sharply, forcing herself back to clarity.

What does Yu Jinzhao’s pheromone scent have to do with me? Her glands were treated with that drug—what difference does it make if they’re practically useless now?

I’m going to use her anyway. I can’t afford to indulge in these irrelevant thoughts. With this realization, Pei Daowan’s gaze sharpened. She didn’t need anyone to save her; anyone could be a pawn on her path to revenge!

Meanwhile, Yu Jinzhao remained blissfully unaware of Pei Daowan’s inner turmoil. Overjoyed and wide awake, she spread out her canvas and began painting again.

Yu Jinzhao painted through the night, not stopping until the morning sun stung her eyes. After a full night of uninterrupted work, she finally stretched her stiff limbs.

Sunlight bathed Yu Jinzhao’s face as she yawned lazily, squinting slightly as she gazed at her painting with admiration.

She hadn’t painted Pei Daowan, but rather the actual balcony, with a large expanse of white in the center—an empty space she had reserved for Pei Daowan.

Yu Jinzhao nodded in satisfaction. Though she hadn’t painted in a long time, her skills hadn’t completely dulled. All the hardships she had endured as a child to learn painting hadn’t been in vain.

Carefully putting away her easel, Yu Jinzhao exhaled deeply. She hadn’t slept all night, but her spirits were now high.

As she painted the balcony, she had been mentally sketching how to approach Pei Daowan’s portrait. This was Aphrodite herself, after all, and deserved the utmost care.

Simultaneously, her mind raced. She had been here for over a month, and neither the System nor the Yu Family could be trusted. Pei Daowan seemed to be her only option.

With no other choice, she decided to place all her bets on Pei Daowan. After all, she truly possessed nothing, merely occupying the original owner’s identity.

Yu Jinzhao straightened her posture and gazed directly at the rising sun. Though it was still dawn, the light was so intense it nearly forced her eyes shut, bringing tears to her eyes. Yet she refused to look away.

Though she wasn’t a prodigy, her life had been remarkably smooth sailing, save for that one entrepreneurial failure.

At this thought, her eyes involuntarily darkened, her lashes trembling slightly as the morning light pierced through, causing tiny, crystalline droplets to slip down her cheeks.

It’s time to move on, she told herself. One can’t remain stuck in the past. Her failure had stemmed from trusting outsiders and misjudging market trends. But she would learn from her mistakes; she wouldn’t repeat them.

Now that she had inherited the original owner’s identity, she would start by familiarizing herself with and mastering her resources.

After all, I won’t fail a second time, will I?