Chapter 1: Scum A

Zhu Lexing felt that the current situation went far beyond “not right.”

Just ten minutes ago, she had wrapped up recording a variety show. On the ride back, she had been about to catch a quick nap when she opened her eyes to find the spacious rear seat of the nanny car transformed into a cramped cubicle.

Every modern person had read a few transmigration stories, harboring dreams of climbing to the peak of life. Zhu Lexing’s first reaction was bewilderment. Her second was to mentally call out for the System. Her third, however, was the ache in her hand.

…The ache in her hand?

Zhu Lexing instinctively glanced down, her pupils contracting sharply.

There, right in front of her, a girl in a blue-and-white school uniform trembled violently. Her hair was disheveled, her skin ghostly pale yet tinged with a faint flush. Even her pure, doe-like peach-blossom eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

The air carried the faintest hint of sweetness mingling with a floral fragrance, just beginning to intertwine. The scene—straight out of an 18+ rating—jolted Zhu Lexing half-awake like a thunderbolt. She recoiled several steps on instinct, and the girl, as if granted a royal pardon, clenched her fists tight and let out a low, ragged gasp.

The sweetness faded with her movement, but the floral scent lingered, cloyingly seductive.

Zhu Lexing stared blankly at its source.

The girl raised her face, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes. But it lasted only an instant before shifting to helpless dimness. She hunched her shoulders and rasped, “Zhu Lexing, I know you’re unhappy about me talking to Uncle Zhu. But I haven’t discussed anything with him except my studies.. I haven’t mentioned you at all.”

“After all, I’m your sister. You can dislike me. You can hate me. You can even… humiliate me.” By this point, the girl’s voice had grown halting, each word clearly dragged unwillingly from her throat. “But at least… not at school.”

…

Zhu Lexing stayed silent.

“Zhu Lexing.” “Sister.” “Humiliate.” “School.”

The keywords stood out too sharply for Zhu Lexing to ignore, even if she tried.

Wasn’t this the plot of that super popular novel lately?

The character shared her exact name, so Zhu Lexing had specially downloaded the app to check it out.

She’d barely skimmed a few pages before nausea hit her like a wave.

And for good reason.

The role with her name was an absolute scum.

The story was set in an ABO world—a society with six genders: female Alphas, female Betas, female Omegas; male Alphas, male Betas, male Omegas. Humanity was the same as ever, but Alphas and Omegas possessed pheromones and heat periods. During mutual heats, they craved each other’s pheromones for relief, and high compatibility rates often led to Pheromone Dependency Syndrome.

With that premise, the melodrama unfolded all too easily.

The original host came from an elite background. Her father, Zhu Lin, was a renowned director. Her mother was a three-time award-winning Film Empress. Both Betas, they had married after an unplanned pregnancy and divorced soon after the child’s birth—just to keep up appearances. Outwardly the perfect couple, privately they lived scandalously separate lives, leaving the original host completely in the dark.

That illusion shattered when photos surfaced of Zhu Lin’s apparent “affair,” prompting their official divorce announcement.

Zhu Lin played hardball and secured custody of the original host early that year. He then introduced her to the daughter of his new girlfriend, Jiang Yue: Yan Mian.

A year older than the original host, Yan Mian had battled congenital heart disease since childhood. Homeschooled for years and enduring multiple surgeries with no real improvement, she was now a sophomore. Her grades were always top-tier; she never slipped below third place when she could take exams.

Upon learning of Yan Mian’s plight, Zhu Lin suggested the girls attend the same high school to bond and ease future family dynamics.

He never imagined that offhand idea would leave Yan Mian walking a tightrope for years.

On the first day of school, the original host dumped a drink on Yan Mian in front of the entire class.

Convinced Jiang Yue was a homewrecker, she despised the frail girl she’d brought along all the more. Pretty, privileged, and blessed with protagonist-level charm that drew admirers like moths to a flame, the original host sparked a wave of bullying against Yan Mian with her open disdain.

Crude pranks. Locking the dark-phobic Yan Mian alone in a bathroom stall. Shoving the defenseless girl around. Nothing was off-limits.

The original novel didn’t dwell long on the school bullying—it was merely the opening act.

At seventeen, the original host differentiated as an Alpha. Her pheromones matched Yan Mian’s at a staggering 90 percent. Driven by primal urges, she forcibly marked Yan Mian during the girl’s heat. The following month, Yan Mian was diagnosed with Pheromone Dependency Syndrome.

In the ABO world, it was a nightmare illness. An Omega could only receive one lifelong mark—like a canvas splashed with paint. Willing or not, it had to accept the artist’s overwriting strokes. Rejection meant the most drastic solution: destroy the canvas by excising the gland.

Alphas and Omegas depended on their glands for survival; they were vital organs. Removal risked unpredictable complications and, even if survived, accelerated aging.

When symptoms struck, Yan Mian was an adult but still in her senior year. Her stellar grades had earned her a guaranteed admission quota to a top university, but the original host sabotaged it. Using a burner account, she spread vicious rumors of Yan Mian’s promiscuous private life.

The school launched an “investigation”—which amounted to teachers cornering and interrogating Yan Mian. Reserved and gentle by nature, she mustered her first real defense, pouring everything into it. Still, her quota vanished, and the administration subtly urged her to withdraw.

Jiang Yue, upon hearing the news, slapped Yan Mian hard across the face. Zhu Lin offered verbal assurances of paving her future, but his gaze toward her had lost its former warmth.

All the while, no one knew Zhu Lexing was the one who had inflicted the lifelong mark.

Rift with her mother. Social feeds flooded with lies about herself. After repeated blows, the original host was all Yan Mian had left. She tried forcing herself to love her, to embrace her fate. But once the original host had her completely, interest waned. She wielded PUA like a pro, her eyes forever chasing the next Omega.

Yan Mian suffered from depression and attempted suicide several times. Her body grew increasingly frail, yet the original host persisted with her cold violence. She even leveraged her parents’ connections to skyrocket in the entertainment industry during her sophomore year of college, becoming the undisputed Top Idol. From that point on, she reveled in endless nights of debauchery, caring even less about Yan Mian.

Until one day, Yan Mian steeled her resolve and left the Zhu Family. That same year, after having her gland surgically removed, she landed a role in a renowned director’s blockbuster and shot to fame overnight.

All the sordid details of their shared past were dragged into the public eye by the very people involved, put on trial for all to judge. In an instant, Zhu Lexing was drowning in scandal—bombarded with commercial lawsuits and facing prison time for multiple violations of Omega rights. On the day of her sentencing, Yan Mian, whose health had plummeted even further, passed away soon after.

Halfway through the recollection, Zhu Lexing was so furious her hair nearly stood on end.

By the time she finished reliving the entire plot, Zhu Lexing felt utterly revolted. She wanted nothing more than to leap from the building right then and there, taking this wretched body down with her.

Zhu Lexing’s face darkened with seething frustration.

But to Yan Mian, the scene spelled impending danger.

Zhu Lexing had been spoiled rotten since childhood, demanding the moon and stars. What she hated most was when someone dared to defy her wishes.

Yan Mian assumed she had upset her. Her eyelashes quivered faintly as her body slid downward in quiet resignation. Forget it, she thought.

Class was nearly over. Zhu Lexing cared about her image; in front of others, she would hold back a little.

Besides, if she truly intended to lash out, what could Yan Mian possibly do to stop her?

For no reason at all, Yan Mian recalled her first day transferring to Mingzhong School. She had been doused head to toe in orange juice, and in her daze, shoved into a cramped bathroom stall.

The bag holding her medication was snatched away. Realizing she teetered on the brink of death, she gasped for air, her hands shaking as she dialed her mother. The woman, always so gentle, spoke in icy tones for the first time, warning her that her current life was a rare stroke of fortune, not to be taken for granted. If she wanted to keep living in the Zhu Family, she had to learn to appease Zhu Lexing.

So what if she got bullied? So what if she had to hole up in a stall for a bit?

Besides, with so many people at school, why would Zhu Lexing single her out and shun everyone else?

But the “atrocities” she had braced for never materialized.

None of Zhu Lexing’s signature moves came—neither the violence, the verbal abuse, nor the use of someone else’s pheromones to torment her. Nothing at all.

No punches or kicks, not even run-of-the-mill insults tossed out like chugging water. Nothing. Yan Mian didn’t dare look up at Zhu Lexing. She curled into a tight ball. In the darkness, she heard only the Alpha’s breathing—and after a long, heavy silence, a barely audible “Sorry.”

The door creaked open. The cloying, suffocating pheromones dissipated on the breeze. Footsteps receded into the distance. Yan Mian finally raised her eyes, watching the door swing shut once more. Her lashes trembled in disbelief as she stared at the now-empty stall and the unopened pack of wet wipes by her leg.

Her back was drenched in cold sweat. It took a long moment before Yan Mian truly accepted that Zhu Lexing had left.

…And before going, she had even closed the door behind her.

~~~

Of course Zhu Lexing had left.

Before transmigrating, she had been on the verge of joining the cast of a film about school bullying. After poring over countless resources, one core message had stuck with her: The apologies of abusers were utterly worthless.

The best form of atonement was to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the victim.

Just thirty seconds after that realization dawned, a ding echoed in her mind—

【Congratulations! You’ve bound the Save the Female Lead Plan!】

The world froze as if someone had hit pause. Teachers and students in the hallway halted mid-motion; only Zhu Lexing could still move freely.

In that instant, Zhu Lexing flashed back to all those so-called “task completion” stories that were really just elaborate schemes to seduce the protagonist into saccharine romance. Alarm bells blared in her head.

She had only just resolved to keep her distance from Yan Mian, and now this system wanted her to pursue a love story?

In her dreams!

As Zhu Lexing racked her brain for a way to refuse, the system obligingly presented her with options: 【Would you like to formally activate the system?】

A floating transparent panel hovered before her, complete with a five-second countdown. Zhu Lexing reached for “No”—only for the once-glowing button to gray out, leaving “Yes” as the sole choice.

Zhu Lexing: ???

It could pull a stunt like that?

Before she could process it, the timer ran out. The system announced on its own: “System activated.”

The very next second, it continued: “Due to insufficient energy, the system will enter temporary hibernation. Full energy collection estimated in 801 days. The host may also…”

The mechanical voice cut off abruptly, leaving Zhu Lexing: “…”

It knew it lacked energy but still wasted time on all that pointless setup. Was this thing really an AI?

How could it be dumber than a human?

Once the system vanished, the world snapped back to life.

The din of voices flooded Zhu Lexing’s ears once more. She looked up to see the sign for Sophomore Science Class 7.

The classroom door stood ajar. A girl in Mingzhong School uniform was yanking fiercely at a middle-aged man’s sleeve, locked in heated debate—one face twisted in fury, the other etched with helplessness.

Spotting Zhu Lexing, the girl released her grip in an instant and snapped, “Zhu Lexing! Where’s Mianmian?”

She was a powder keg one wrong word from detonation. The man quickly stepped in, clearing his throat and adopting a teacher’s stern demeanor. “Zhu Lexing, Li Nian says you left with Yan Mian right before the last class started. Is that correct?”

Their personalities stood in stark contrast, and Zhu Lexing silently matched them to their profiles in her mind.

The girl was Li Nian, Yan Mian’s sole friend in the story’s early stages. A Beta through and through, yet her fighting skills were freakishly strong. Blunt in her affections and enmities, she had stuck her neck out for Yan Mian plenty of times before.

The original host had seldom clashed with her head-on at school, opting instead to go after Li Nian’s parents. They were your average white-collar family, powerless against threats of influence and bribery. In the original plot, Li Nian’s arc ended with her kneeling in public to apologize to the original host before transferring to another province—never to reappear.

The man was Class 7’s homeroom teacher, Zhu Xing. He shied from the tough but scorned kicking those already down; really, he was just a spineless fence-sitter who feigned ignorance. In the story, he had turned a blind eye to Yan Mian’s cries for help more than once.

To the pair, Zhu Lexing’s silence screamed guilt.

Li Nian exploded again. “What did you do to Mianmian this time? Her health is already poor. Do you want to kill her before you’re satisfied?!”

The mention of life and death made Zhu Xing’s expression darken. “Don’t talk nonsense!”

Li Nian had a forceful personality, but she was only seventeen after all. Zhu Xing’s shout left her momentarily stunned.

Zhu Lexing’s train of thought was interrupted, and she stated her reason bluntly. “Yan Mian wants to take the class off.”

“Take leave?” Before Li Nian could recover, Zhu Xing frowned and continued, “It’s allowed, but she has to sign it herself.”

Mingzhong School enjoyed a prestigious reputation to the outside world, and it enforced exceptionally strict controls on students’ schedules. Any leave required a personal signature, and students had to return in one piece to officially cancel it. With wealthy parents who frequently made generous donations, the school even had a dedicated website where guardians could check their children’s attendance records.

Zhu Lexing had only just transmigrated and lacked the original host’s memories, so she was naturally unaware of these rules. For a rich heiress like her, who had essentially bought her way in with building donations, skipping class was as simple as doing it quietly. As long as no one made a fuss, nobody would bother reporting it.

Even if it was reported, it would likely be ignored anyway.

The same went for Yan Mian.

But Zhu Lexing had brought it up herself, and with people passing through the corridor, Zhu Xing had no choice but to respond.

He had intended to remind her tactfully, but Zhu Lexing said straightforwardly, “I’ll sign for her.”

Zhu Xing looked utterly speechless, while Li Nian gaped in shock. In their eyes, the current Zhu Lexing seemed no different from some fool who, after committing a crime, not only failed to cover their tracks but actively called the police on themselves.

Still, leaving a record was better than nothing, Li Nian thought to herself. If something happened to Yan Mian later, at least there would be some “evidence.”

Seeing that gentle persuasion wasn’t working, Zhu Xing stopped trying. He briskly led the two to the office.

When it came time to fill in the reason for the leave, Zhu Lexing pursed her lips and chose a somewhat neutral response: “Yan Mian isn’t feeling well.”

At those words, the anger Li Nian had been suppressing flared up again. This time, even Zhu Xing sensed something was off, his tone laced with disapproval. “Not feeling well? How exactly? Does she need to go to the hospital?”

Zhu Lexing fell silent.

Just how notorious had the original host been at school that even the most common excuse wouldn’t fly?

“She’s in the rest room,” Zhu Lexing said, noticing their increasingly odd expressions. “If you’re worried, you can go keep her company.”

The last part was directed at Li Nian. No sooner had the words left her mouth than Li Nian bolted from the office like a lit firecracker, charging toward the rest room without so much as a backward glance.

Zhu Lexing withdrew her gaze and neatly signed her own name on the leave slip. When she looked up again, she found Zhu Xing watching her with a complicated expression, as if he wanted to say something but held back.

She gave a slight nod. “Teacher Zhu, is there anything else?”

In the end, the man said nothing. He took the slip and let her go.

But Zhu Xing’s silence didn’t mean Zhu Lexing wasn’t thinking. In her view, he had only wanted to either stop her or warn her off.

Since he had said nothing, it meant he was still willing to turn a blind eye.

Zhu Lexing understood the complexities of human nature—refraining from piling on was already commendable—but that didn’t stop her from thinking poorly of him.

Clutching the leave slip, she stepped out of the bright, spacious office. The bell for class had rung several minutes earlier, leaving the corridor deserted except for the endless murmur of voices from ongoing lectures.

She stood in the hallway, gazing at the setting sun in the west. Her mind drifted to Yan Mian’s frail figure, curled up in the stall as if shielding her last shred of dignity. A deeper wave of pity washed over her.

After a few seconds of silence, Zhu Lexing made a solemn decision in her heart: she would treat Yan Mian well. Not just to avert the tragic end awaiting “Zhu Lexing,” but to reclaim the bright, brilliant life Yan Mian deserved.

She lifted her head and cast one final glance toward the rest room before fully immersing herself in the role of “Zhu Lexing.”

Her expression turned impatient, her posture straightening slightly with a touch of arrogance, her hair artfully disheveled. With a beautiful face that screamed everyone owed her a fortune, she strode toward Science Class 7.