After Becoming the Scummy Alpha in a Substitute Romance (GL) - Chapter 15

When you’re fully immersed in work, time tends to fly.

Before Jian Ya even realized it, the workday had come to an end.

Once the tasks for the day were completed smoothly, Shen Shuyi stepped in and announced that the team had done an excellent job—and that they could finish up and head home.

For the project team, hearing Shen Shuyi personally acknowledge their progress was always the best part of the day.

Everyone immediately relaxed. Though exhausted, they were filled with a sense of accomplishment.

Finally, time to rest.

Some stretched their limbs, others casually chatted with nearby coworkers about grabbing barbecue or drinks after work.

In that moment, the usual pressure and seriousness of the lab faded a little. What remained was something more human, more comfortable.

Shen Shuyi stood by the door, saying goodbye to each person as they left.

“Goodbye, Professor Shen. Make sure to get some rest too.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Professor Shen, we made great progress today. If we keep this pace, we might actually finish half a month earlier than planned.”

“Mm. Thanks for your hard work.”

…

Hearing the voices, Jian Ya looked up slightly. She rested her head against her hand, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Shen Shuyi say her farewells.

It was obvious—Shen Shuyi truly loved what she was doing.

And only in moments like this, surrounded by people equally dedicated to the project, did she set aside her usual cold and distant demeanor.

Her eyes, normally calm and unreadable like a frozen lake, now carried a faint warmth.

There was a gentle peace in her face—a rare softness that made her seem even more captivating. Just her presence had a way of making others feel quietly ashamed of their own hidden thoughts or selfishness.

Eventually, most of the team had left.

With so many people gone, the lab suddenly felt quiet and spacious.

Jian Ya remained at her desk, her eyes calmly fixed on the screen in front of her. Her fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard. As the code flowed line by line, the basic outline of the feature she was building had already started to take shape.

Then, she heard footsteps.

She didn’t need to look—she already knew it was Shen Shuyi. She could feel her presence stop just behind her.

Jian Ya raised her head slightly, lifting an eyebrow as she glanced at her.

“You can keep going,” Shen Shuyi said coolly.

Her voice was noticeably colder than the tone she had just used with everyone else.

Jian Ya understood why. And she didn’t blame her.

Still, she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. She simply turned back to her screen and resumed coding.

She was still deep in her work mindset.

Her thoughts were sharp and focused. The main framework of the function was already finished. All that was left now was testing and polish.

Shen Shuyi didn’t say anything else. She just stood quietly, watching her work.

Jian Ya’s typing was fast. The code scrolled quickly across the screen—so quickly that even Shen Shuyi had trouble keeping up.

But if you looked closely, you’d see how clear her logic was. Each statement was precise, and the structure of her code was clean and elegant.

There wasn’t a single line that was redundant or messy. It was the kind of code that made you want to keep reading—pleasing to the eye and mind.

And then…

Shen Shuyi couldn’t help but compare herself. Though she had majored in medicine, she had minored in computer science.

She tried to imagine herself in Jian Ya’s place.

Even so, Shen Shuyi’s programming skills were undeniably at a professional level—and among the better ones, too.

But at this moment, she could clearly feel the gap between her and Jian Ya.

In both fluency and thinking, Jian Ya was far ahead.

What Jian Ya was doing now—her speed, precision, and clarity—left Shen Shuyi genuinely stunned.

Jian Ya, as far as anyone in Ancheng’s elite circles was concerned, had always been nothing more than a spoiled heiress. A girl who chased beauty over ambition, unpredictable in mood, and unreliable in every sense.

And from the time Shen Shuyi had spent with her over the past few months, she knew all too well: Jian Ya wasn’t just shallow and reckless—she was dangerous.

If she wanted something, no one could stop her.

If she couldn’t have it, she would make sure no one else could either.

She was deeply selfish.

So how could someone like that have such extraordinary programming skills?

Jian Ya’s plan had been simple—finish the task Li Lu gave her as fast as possible, wrap it up neatly, and head out.

After all, it hadn’t been easy convincing Shen Shuyi to let her join the team. She had to prove she was capable.

If she didn’t, and Shen Shuyi decided she was useless and kicked her out again, she’d have no one to blame.

But now, with Shen Shuyi standing silently behind her, watching so closely… it was starting to get to her.

She could even hear Shen Shuyi’s breathing—slightly heavier than usual.

It broke her focus.

Her hands began to slow, fingers no longer moving as smoothly. Eventually, with her rhythm completely thrown off, Jian Ya stopped typing and turned around, helplessly.

She looked up and met Shen Shuyi’s eyes, which were filled with something complicated—confusion, maybe even disbelief.

“…Is something wrong?” Jian Ya asked cautiously.

Shen Shuyi slowly pulled her gaze from the screen and focused on her instead.

She was silent for a few seconds.

Then, in a soft and hesitant voice, she asked:

“…Are you really Jian Ya?”

Jian Ya froze.

Did she realize it?

Jian Ya smiled and said, “No.”

“Or rather, I’m not the same person I used to be. I told you—I’ve changed,” she explained.

She believed her tone was sincere—earnest, even.

Shen Shuyi stared at her for a long moment, then rubbed her forehead with a sigh.

What am I even thinking? If she’s not Jian Ya, then who could she be?

It made sense. Until now, she had only seen one side of Jian Ya—the reckless, spoiled side. The side that lived indulgently and irresponsibly. She had been so awful that Shen Shuyi had simply assumed she was incapable of anything else.

But…

Had Jian Ya ever actually said she couldn’t do anything else?

That was just her own assumption—her own prejudice.

Instead of entertaining the absurd idea that Jian Ya was a different person entirely, she should be reflecting on her own flawed judgment.

People are complex.

The old Jian Ya had simply never shown her talents. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have any.

Shen Shuyi realized now—she had unfairly dismissed her. Just because Jian Ya had poor habits in her personal life didn’t mean she lacked ability.

Jian Ya, of course, had no idea how much self-reflection was going on in Shen Shuyi’s head during those few seconds.

If she had known, she probably would’ve been at a loss for words.

Still, when Jian Ya noticed that Shen Shuyi made no move to leave, she quickly caught on.

Ah… right.

Shen Shuyi might not be openly hostile toward her anymore—but she was still extremely cautious.

And with a place as sensitive as the lab, there was no way she’d be left alone in it.

Chances were, Shen Shuyi wouldn’t leave until she did.

“…Are you waiting for me?” Jian Ya asked.

Shen Shuyi nodded.

With that confirmed, Jian Ya didn’t push herself to finish the task tonight. She saved her work and stood up.

“Alright then, let’s go. I’ll finish the rest tomorrow. I can’t make you stay late just to babysit me,” she said with a light tone.

Shen Shuyi raised an eyebrow, as if she wanted to say something.

But seeing Jian Ya smoothly saving her files and shutting down the computer, she just gave a small nod.

The two of them left together. After a quick inspection of the lab to make sure everything was in order, Shen Shuyi locked the door behind them.

“Come with me to the break room,” she said.

“Huh?” Jian Ya glanced at her, confused.

Weren’t we heading home? What are we going to the break room for?

What she got in return was Shen Shuyi’s cool and direct response:

“Body check.”

Jian Ya: ?!