After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Met the Reborn Omega (GL) - Chapter 10

Lin Changsheng was working overtime, busily recalculating and retesting the ratios of the drug formulas, determined to correct the mistakes she had made before—hoping to help Mo Zhaoyan.
No matter what she had experienced, she must not harbor the intent to harm others.
At least, that was what Lin Changsheng firmly believed at this moment.

As time passed, the sky outside gradually darkened, then lit up again with countless city lights.
But Lin Changsheng forgot to turn on the lights in her office.
She continued typing away at her keyboard, the clatter filling the dim room.

Ten years of technological progress—she still needed time to catch up.
Fortunately, the original body’s memories were still buried deep within her mind.
As long as she encountered familiar subjects, they would slowly resurface, saving her a lot of effort.

Correcting the drug data wasn’t something that could be done in a single night.
The sheer workload would likely last a long while.
Moreover, Lin Changsheng didn’t want to delay the company’s upcoming product launch—
she didn’t want to affect Mo Zhaoyan because of her own issues.

Late into the night, Lin Changsheng suddenly heard a deep, eerie voice whisper in her ear:
“Are you really planning to let them go just like that?”

Startled, Lin Changsheng snapped her head up—
and saw someone standing in the shadows.

It was her.
It was the Lin Changsheng from ten years into the future— the one she had seen in her dreams the terrifying version of herself.

But at this moment, Lin Changsheng didn’t feel fear.
Summoning her courage, she questioned sharply: “Did you really create that drug just to harm people?”

“They deserved it,” the figure said coldly, devoid of any emotion.

Lin Changsheng had no idea who “they” referred to, but from the tone, it was clear this future self no longer cared about human life at all.
The face was identical to her own—yet it felt so utterly foreign.

“No one has the right to trample on human life,” Lin Changsheng retorted.

Those words seemed to pierce the shadowy figure like a knife.
In a sudden rage, the future Lin Changsheng rushed up to her, roaring: “You’ve forgotten!
You’ve forgotten everything you went through!
In this world, no one understands you, no one protects you, no one cares about you!
They only slander you, oppress you, hurt you!

Anyone can judge me— except you.
Because you are me, and I am you.
We are one and the same!”

“Why is it that those with inferior genes can live happily, while you— you have to end up like this?”

The final words were both a question for Lin Changsheng—
and a question for herself.

The future self pressed a fingertip against Lin Changsheng’s chest, and suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her heart.
“Since no one ever wanted to help me,
since no one would ever protect me,
since no one would ever understand me—
then I will prove with my own actions that my theories are correct!

We were born evil.”

We were born evil.

Those words jolted Lin Changsheng awake.
She realized she had fallen asleep at her desk, drifting into a nightmare.

Cold sweat drenched her body.
But for once, she vividly remembered every word from the dream.

She shivered.
Why had she become that person?
She asked herself again,
Am I truly evil?

The feeling of helplessness and despair gnawed at her.
A suffocating darkness seemed to close in around her.

At that moment, her phone screen lit up in the pitch-dark office—
a rare source of light.

It was a message from Mo Zhaoyan:

“Work will never truly be finished. Go home early.”

But the terrified Lin Changsheng didn’t even notice the message.
She rubbed her aching temples, the words of her future self echoing endlessly in her mind:

I am evil.
I will kill many.
I am beyond redemption.

The Lin Changsheng who had always clung to hope, always kept smiling no matter how badly she was bullied, now found herself teetering on the brink of despair.
In the past, she had family to rely on, someone to stand beside her.
But here, in this future world, she had no one.

She stared at the cold, empty office—
overwhelmed by fear, loneliness, and hopelessness.
Negative emotions flooded her with terrifying speed.

The more she thought about it, the more despair consumed her.
Her eyes reddened with unshed tears.
Her emotions spiraled out of control.

She could feel her own body betraying her, dragging her into anxiety, into rage.
Into contradiction with herself.

Shaking, Lin Changsheng forced herself to stand, wanting to turn on the lights.
But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t move forward.

She was struggling, wrestling within herself falling deeper and deeper into the abyss.

A dangerous thought crept into her mind: Maybe… maybe the future me was right?

Maybe if she accepted it, if she accepted her own evil the pain would finally end.
And she could be free.

At that moment, the office door suddenly swung open.
The light from the hallway spilled in, piercing the darkness.
A familiar voice called out,
“Why aren’t you turning on the lights?”

It was Mo Zhaoyan.

As she stepped inside, she switched on the lights, and instantly, the room filled with warmth and brightness—
bringing Lin Changsheng’s world back into the light as well.

Mo Zhaoyan stared at Lin Changsheng, who stood frozen in place.
Something clearly wasn’t right.

Lin Changsheng’s eyes were red, and the moment she saw Mo Zhaoyan, a tear slid down her cheek.
Her voice trembled with a mix of fear and despair as she asked,
“Am I evil?”

That expression—so full of hopelessness—felt painfully familiar to Mo Zhaoyan.
It was the same look Lin Changsheng had worn the day she died, ten years ago, when she fell into an endless abyss.

“Did you ever care about me?
Do you even know what I’ve been through?”
Those words had haunted Mo Zhaoyan’s dreams for a decade.

Her heart clenched tightly.
Without thinking, she rushed forward and pulled Lin Changsheng into her arms.
Her movements were quick, even a little frantic, but her embrace was incredibly gentle.

Wrapped in Mo Zhaoyan’s arms, Lin Changsheng was suddenly surrounded by warmth.
Mo Zhaoyan’s voice, still calm and cool, now carried a rare tenderness,
melting the ice around Lin Changsheng’s heart.

“How could you ever be evil?”
I will never let you become evil.

Those soft, almost whispered words sank deeply into Lin Changsheng’s heart,
giving her a lifeline—
a fragile hope to hold onto.

Comforted by Mo Zhaoyan’s voice,
Lin Changsheng felt her defenses crumble.
Ever since crossing into this world, she had carried a burden too heavy for anyone to bear alone.

“I’m not like you…
I won’t become evil,” she murmured softly.

All the exhaustion she had buried inside overwhelmed her at once.
And there, in Mo Zhaoyan’s arms,
Lin Changsheng began to cry uncontrollably— the raw, broken cries of a lost child.

At first, Lin Changsheng had wanted to hold back,
but her body—her soul—had been tired for too long.
Now that she had found even a small moment of safety, she finally allowed herself to collapse,
no longer needing to pretend to be strong, no longer needing to hide her pain.

Her sobs soaked Mo Zhaoyan’s clothes, but Mo Zhaoyan didn’t show a hint of annoyance.
She simply held Lin Changsheng even tighter, gently rubbing her back, whispering silent comfort into the space between them.

It was only now that Mo Zhaoyan was truly sure: The woman in her arms was not the same Lin Changsheng she had once known.
Maybe… maybe Lin Changsheng had truly lost her memory.

If that was the case, then it was for the best.

This time, Mo Zhaoyan vowed silently, she would stop everything before it was too late.
She would protect Lin Changsheng—no matter what happened.
She would never leave her side again.
Not until the end.

Still, curiosity lingered in Mo Zhaoyan’s heart.
Just how much had Lin Changsheng forgotten?
Surely… surely, she had forgotten that too?

After crying for what felt like forever, Lin Changsheng finally fell asleep in her arms.
As an Omega, Mo Zhaoyan couldn’t support her for too long.
Fortunately, Tang Ying was nearby, and she came over to help carry Lin Changsheng carefully.

“Thank you,” Mo Zhaoyan said softly.

“It’s no trouble, Miss Mo,” Tang Ying replied respectfully.

An hour earlier, Mo Zhaoyan had just finished a long day of work.
Tired, she had been about to text Lin Changsheng when Tang Ying came to report:

“Miss, about the drug investigation— it will take some more time.
There aren’t many experts in this field in the country.
But while reviewing the research department’s records, I noticed something odd.

After Lin Changsheng joined the company three years ago, she completely restructured the research department.
Now, over 80% of the department is loyal to her.
Didn’t you know?”

Of course, Mo Zhaoyan knew.
When Lin Changsheng joined, she brought new inhibitor technology with her—
something the company had desperately needed.
It had been Lin Changsheng herself who had recruited the new researchers.

“I knew,” Mo Zhaoyan said. Tang Ying continued, “There’s more. Lin Changsheng isn’t just working on the projects she reports to the company.
One subject in particular caught my attention— Wen Lier, the girl Second Miss has been chasing lately.”

Mo Zhaoyan took the file and scanned through it.
She had no particular memory of this girl.

Tang Ying added, “Wen Lier is Zhou Yiyi’s biological sister.
And Zhou Yiyi, as you know, was promoted under Lin Changsheng’s support.
Today, she’s Vice Chair of the Research Department, responsible for submitting most of the critical reports.”

Mo Zhaoyan’s mind quickly pieced the puzzle together.

In the previous timeline, after her divorce from Lin Changsheng,
Lin Changsheng had left Mo Corporation and gone independent.
Zhou Yiyi had taken nearly the entire research team with her, causing Mo Corporation a huge loss.

Clearly, Zhou Yiyi’s loyalty stemmed from her sister.

“Wen Lier has partial differentiation syndrome— yet she has survived until now.
She joined the company last June,” Tang Ying reported.

Mo Zhaoyan searched her memories— after all, it had been more than a decade ago.

Suddenly, she remembered:
Once, Lin Changsheng had come home from work, her hand wrapped in bandages.
It was rare, but Mo Zhaoyan had asked what happened.
Lin Changsheng had simply said: “An accident during an experiment.”

At the time, Mo Zhaoyan hadn’t thought much of it.
After all, Lin Changsheng’s body bore many scars— on her arms, on her legs, but especially on her back.

On their wedding night, when Mo Zhaoyan embraced Lin Changsheng, she had felt the countless scars crisscrossing her back.
When asked about it the next morning, Lin Changsheng only said, “There was an explosion during a lab accident. Even after scar removal surgery, some marks remained.”

Even though the surgery had lightened the scars, the faint lines could still be clearly felt— like silent, painful memories etched into her skin.

But thinking back, Mo Zhaoyan realized those scars didn’t seem like explosion wounds.
They were too orderly.
Too deliberate.
More like… someone had cut them, one blade stroke at a time.

At the time, Lin Changsheng clearly hadn’t wanted to talk about it,
and Mo Zhaoyan, not wanting to push her, had let it go.

It was only after Lin Changsheng’s death that Mo Zhaoyan finally uncovered the truth.
And by then, it was too late.

Wounds could heal. Scars could fade.
But the pain, the bl00d spilled, the suffering—those could never be erased.

Staring at the sleeping Lin Changsheng, her cheeks still damp with tears,
Mo Zhaoyan whispered sadly: “It’s better this way. Better that you’ve forgotten everything.”