After The Mission Failed, The Scumbag Alpha Ran Away - Chapter 24

24: Classmate Lou, Let Me Tutor You

It hurt so much.

The excruciating pain tore at her consciousness. Even though Lou Huaiche was restraining her movements to prevent her from harming herself, Jiang Youbai couldn’t stop the urge to bang her head against something to alleviate the agony.

Lou Huaiche placed her hand under Jiang Youbai’s forehead, her palm aching from the force of the impacts—proof of how much strength Jiang Youbai was using.

Why had Jiang Youbai suddenly become like this? The usually composed princess, who excelled at concealing her emotions, was now completely losing control. Just how much pain was she in?

Lou Huaiche called out to Jiang Youbai in alarm, trying to calm her down: “Jiang Youbai? Jiang Youbai! Snap out of it! What’s wrong?”

Jiang Youbai gritted her teeth, her body trembling uncontrollably from the unbearable pain.

The system’s mechanical voice remained cold and indifferent, dripping with condescension: “Please adopt a proper attitude toward completing tasks.”

Jiang Youbai lifted her head, struggling to sit upright as she negotiated with the system: “You never mentioned any deadlines for the tasks—how many must be completed by when. This is your oversight. You can’t punish me for it.”

Despite being drenched in cold sweat and looking utterly disheveled, Jiang Youbai maintained her dignity while bargaining with the system, refusing to show weakness.

The system’s tone was flat, laced with disdain: “You don’t need to do anything else. Completing tasks is your only purpose.”

—You don’t need to do anything else. Completing tasks is your only purpose.

The pain persisted. Jiang Youbai’s fingers dug into the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white from the strain.

Suddenly, the strength supporting her entire body vanished. Unable to endure the torment any longer, Jiang Youbai blacked out, her body collapsing limply to one side.

Lou Huaiche hurriedly caught her and sent a brief message to Chi Ruo explaining the situation.

When it came to Jiang Youbai, Chi Ruo always arrived quickly.

This time, Chi Ruo showed up wearing heavy makeup, stiletto heels, and an outrageous sheer outfit, reeking of smoke and alcohol—clearly fresh from a bar.

As soon as she entered, she saw Jiang Youbai lying in Lou Huaiche ’s arms, her face deathly pale, looking as though she were on the verge of dying.

Chi Ruo felt like her heart had been tempered by Jiang Youbai’s repeated emergencies to the point of being impervious to shock. She stepped forward, took Jiang Youbai from Lou Huaiche ’s arms, and used her iris to unlock Jiang Youbai’s personal terminal for a quick health scan.

Lou Huaiche watched Chi Ruo’s actions thoughtfully.

She had previously suspected that Chi Ruo and Jiang Youbai’s relationship wasn’t just that of a subordinate and superior. Now, it seemed their bond went beyond mere friendship.

After all, a personal terminal’s password was the absolute privacy of an individual, containing all their information from birth to death. Normally, not even parents could access it.

Yet Chi Ruo had unlocked Jiang Youbai’s terminal with just an iris scan.

Their relationship seemed more like an innate, inseparable symbiosis.

A bond that transcended life itself—where the absence of one would render the other unable to survive alone.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell on this, but Lou Huaiche couldn’t help but sigh, “Your relationship is really something. Even Xiao Ning and I aren’t this close.”

The scan results came back quickly, showing everything was normal—no issues whatsoever.

Frowning, Chi Ruo said to Lou Huaiche , “Miss Lou, let’s take her to the hospital for a full check-up. Since it’s just the two of you here, you’ll have to come with me.”

Lou Huaiche nodded. “Sure.”

Because Lou Huaiche was present, Chi Ruo didn’t take Jiang Youbai to their usual private doctor but instead chose a nearby hospital with strict privacy policies.

The doctors quickly ran a full-body examination on the unconscious Jiang Youbai, but the results were the same—everything was normal. No hidden illnesses, no external factors that could have caused the fainting spell.

After reviewing the results multiple times, Chi Ruo’s frown deepened.

Suppressing her emotions, she politely said to Lou Huaiche , “Miss Lou, I apologize for earlier. It seems this matter has nothing to do with you. I’ll have someone take you back.”

Lou Huaiche was still worried about Jiang Youbai’s condition. A part of her wondered if this sudden incident was somehow related to Jiang Youbai’s schemes against Jiang Qingxian. “No need. I’ll wait for Her Highness to wake up.”

Chi Ruo firmly refused. “I’m sorry, Miss Lou, but Her Highness and I have matters to discuss. Please return first.”

After arranging for Lou Huaiche to be escorted out, Chi Ruo returned to Jiang Youbai’s hospital room and sat by her bed, flipping through the examination results again.

The full-body scan spanned dozens of pages, yet the only thing it revealed was that Jiang Youbai had fainted from extreme pain—without a single indicator explaining why.

Knowing they were in a hospital, Chi Ruo still couldn’t resist lighting a cigarette. She smoked while staring worriedly at Jiang Youbai lying on the bed.

She knew Jiang Youbai too well—to put it bluntly, if Jiang Youbai so much as twitched, Chi Ruo could guess what she was planning.

It was an exaggeration, but no one could understand their other half better than she did.

And precisely because she understood Jiang Youbai so well, Chi Ruo was now deeply troubled.

When Jiang Youbai woke up, there were already over a dozen cigarette butts crushed in the ashtray on the table.

She turned her head, her gaze meeting Chi Ruo’s.

Chi Ruo understood Jiang Youbai, and Jiang Youbai could read Chi Ruo’s thoughts from a single glance. The moment their eyes met, Jiang Youbai knew—things weren’t good.

Sure enough, Chi Ruo looked at her and said coolly, “You’ve been hiding something from me. Something big. Jiang Youbai, don’t even think about brushing me off this time. We’re way past that point. I won’t let you dodge this.”

Jiang Youbai forced a pitiful smile, playing dumb. “Why am I in the hospital?”

Chi Ruo stared at her intently before suddenly laughing. She grabbed a cup from the table and smashed it against the floor, picking up a sharp shard from the debris.

Holding the jagged piece, she gestured threateningly at her own neck, then Jiang Youbai’s. “Go ahead, make something up. Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re lying? Guess whether I’ll kill you or myself first.”

This was an unmistakable threat.

Jiang Youbai swallowed the excuses on the tip of her tongue. She knew Chi Ruo well—while Chi Ruo wasn’t a madwoman, years of being around Jiang Youbai had rubbed off on her. If pushed too far, Chi Ruo’s madness could easily rival her own.

Jiang Youbai swallowed her words and gave an awkward smile. Chi Ruo’s lips, painted a deep oxblood red, curled into a cold smirk. “What’s wrong? Can’t even come up with a decent lie?”

Jiang Youbai nodded.

Chi Ruo: “How honest. Should I give you an award or something?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Jiang Youbai!” Chi Ruo raised her voice sharply. “Can you just answer me?! Your Highness, I’m not asking you as your subordinate or about some grand scheme—I’m asking you as Chi Ruo, asking Jiang Youbai what the hell you’re hiding from me!”

Fury made Chi Ruo’s chest heave. Her voice suddenly dropped. “Jiang Youbai, I’m scared. I’m really scared.”

Jiang Youbai didn’t know what to say.

“I’m scared you’ll just drop dead one day. Jiang Youbai, if you die, I die too.” Chi Ruo’s voice was exhausted, pleading. “What could possibly be so big that you can’t tell me?”

Chi Ruo had laid her heart bare. Keeping secrets now would be too cruel. Jiang Youbai relented: “The day I presented… there was a system…”

Chi Ruo stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”

Suddenly, a bone-deep, soul-rending pain surged through Jiang Youbai. Her face drained of color, and she trembled violently, yet she forced herself to continue: “This system… ugh!”

The pain intensified, far worse than the system’s earlier punishment. This agony felt like it was tearing her soul apart.

Chi Ruo panicked at the sudden turn of events. “Jiang Youbai! Are you okay?!”

“Stop! Don’t say anymore!” Chi Ruo rushed forward, covering Jiang Youbai’s mouth. “Just stop! Jiang Youbai?! Can you hear me?!”

Jiang Youbai gave up on explaining the system to Chi Ruo.

The moment she stopped speaking, the pain vanished as abruptly as it had come, leaving no trace behind.

Jiang Youbai exhaled shakily, her tense nerves and body finally relaxing.

Chi Ruo stood up, lit another cigarette, and took a few drags before asking hoarsely, “The pain’s gone?”

Jiang Youbai closed her eyes wearily. “Yeah.”

“You can’t talk about it?”

“Right.”

Chi Ruo chuckled dryly. “Fine, I get it. Is Lou Huaiche related to this?”

“Sort of.”

Chi Ruo took another drag, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “I see. But why? All your test results are normal… It can’t just be karma. Whatever, I know you can’t explain. I’ll do my best to cooperate from now on.”

Anxious, Chi Ruo paced the room before finally sitting back down beside Jiang Youbai’s bed.

One lying down, the other sitting—Jiang Youbai was too exhausted from the pain to speak, and Chi Ruo was too agitated to say much. Silence settled over the room.

After a long while, Chi Ruo exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Right now, I feel like your mother—and we’ve both had awful luck. It’d take lifetimes of sin to deserve this kind of suffering.”

Jiang Youbai was mentally and physically drained. She glanced at her system panel and noticed a “Call System” button at the bottom.

The button indicated the system wasn’t currently active, yet she’d still been punished for attempting to reveal its existence.

Today’s incident was a wake-up call. She could no longer allow the system to control her.

Reviewing all the information the system had revealed so far, Jiang Youbai identified several inconsistencies.

According to the system, this world was a novel where Jiang Qingxian was the protagonist, Lou Huaiche the antagonist, and Jiang Youbai the cannon fodder.

If the plot deviated, the entire world would collapse.

If making Lou Huaiche turn dark was the most critical storyline, and the system was so fixated on it, it should have been monitoring Jiang Youbai constantly, correcting any deviations and forcing her to complete tasks promptly.

Yet that wasn’t the case. Over several months, the system had only appeared a handful of times.

Today, while it had punished her under the guise of “task progress,” Jiang Youbai sensed the real reason was her meddling in unnecessary affairs—specifically, her power struggle against Jiang Qingxian.

The system had mentioned other hosts but hadn’t clarified whether they were from other worlds or this one.

Could one of those hosts be Jiang Qingxian?

If so, why had there been no reaction from the system despite Jiang Youbai’s repeated moves against Jiang Qingxian over the past month?

Moreover, the biggest question was: the system seemed incapable of directly interfering in this world to achieve its goals.

If everything the system claimed was true—if it cared so much about the plot’s direction and possessed such immense power—why rely on Jiang Youbai?

Even if it absolutely had to use Jiang Youbai, why not just control her directly? Why resort to pain?

And pain, in Jiang Youbai’s eyes, was the weakest and least effective method of coercion.

It couldn’t strike at the core, nor could it effectively change the situation. It only instilled fear—and fear often bred defiance.

The system needed Lou Huaiche to turn dark and could only achieve that through Jiang Youbai. To control Jiang Youbai, it could only use pain as punishment.

Beyond that, it seemed to have no other means. If true, the system’s existence was shockingly feeble.

As her thoughts spiraled, Jiang Youbai recalled an incongruously tender memory—her and Lou Huaiche sitting together on the stairs, shoulders touching as they whispered about their shared pain.

At the time, the moment hadn’t felt particularly poignant. But now, remembering it, Jiang Youbai realized her entire vision had been filled with Lou Huaiche .

The image of Lou Huaiche under dim lighting, solemnly holding her hand, eyes earnest—that was all she could see.

Lou Huaiche .

Ah, Lou Huaiche …

Jiang Youbai abruptly sat up, startling Chi Ruo. “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Youbai’s eyes gleamed strangely. “Nothing.”

She lay back down, fingers twitching excitedly at the edge of the blanket.

She had overlooked a crucial question—

Why did the system want Lou Huaiche to turn dark? Wasn’t she already unhinged? How much darker could she get?

Lou Huaiche wasn’t just a madwoman—she was the embodiment of madness itself. Give her a knife, and she’d carve a path from the palace straight to the Human Federation. What more “darkening” did she need?

With that, the system’s entire premise became suspect. What was its real goal?

A slow, manic grin spread across Jiang Youbai’s face.

If the system wanted a puppet, if it thought it could command her at will and punish her indiscriminately—it would have to face Jiang Youbai’s retaliation.

If pain was the only punishment the system could inflict—

Then her counterattack would be merciless.

The system wanted her to pursue Lou Huaiche , then abandon her to drive her to darkness? Fine. She’d do the exact opposite.

Jiang Youbai turned to Chi Ruo. “Don’t worry. This won’t last forever.”

Her eyes burned with fierce, unshakable pride.

Chi Ruo took a drag of her cigarette and smiled. “I know. You’ve always been like this. It’s why I admire you.”

The former Crown Princess’s faction had long been scattered across the empire, leaving only the Chi family patriarch struggling to hold the remnants together in the capital. After his accidental death, Chi Ruo and Jiang Youbai became true orphans in the imperial city—isolated and vulnerable.

Back then, anyone could bully them, and no one feared consequences.

And back then, Jiang Youbai had gripped Chi Ruo’s shoulders and snarled, “Get up! Don’t be afraid of them. We won’t be trampled on forever.”

She’d kept her word.

Step by step, Jiang Youbai had dragged Chi Ruo from being helpless orphans to a princess and the youngest parliament member.

Chi Ruo flicked her cigarette ash and said solemnly, “Do whatever you must, Jiang Youbai. I’ll always have your back.”

Without Jiang Youbai, Chi Ruo would’ve remained a nameless Beta orphan from a branch family. Jiang Youbai had pulled her up, and in return, Chi Ruo would be her eternal shield and ally.

…

Lately, Lou Huaiche found Jiang Youbai acting strangely—like she’d been cursed.

Lou Huaiche ’s role in the new drama was minor, so once filming wrapped, she returned to her normal classes.

Jiang Youbai, who had only attended two days of school and was perpetually late or absent, not only started attending every lecture but also sat beside Lou Huaiche , diligently taking notes.

That alone wouldn’t have been too odd.

But Jiang Youbai also began participating in campus events, socializing actively with classmates, and scoring in the top ten of the monthly exams.

Just as Lou Huaiche was puzzling over her motives, Jiang Youbai showed up with a textbook: “Miss Lou, your grades aren’t great, huh?”

Lou Huaiche : “…” What’s with the ‘huh’? Annoying.

Her grades were abysmal. In her first life, her studies had suffered due to acting. In subsequent cycles, she’d wanted to focus on school but never got the chance.

Now, she attended classes whenever possible, not wanting to waste the opportunity.

But she’d missed too much. Lou Huaiche ’s academic performance was embarrassingly poor.

Lou Huaiche retorted, “What’s wrong with failing math? Is it a crime?”

Jiang Youbai, dressed in a white blouse with her hair in a high ponytail, looked every bit the vibrant, dazzling girl who lit up everyone’s youth.

She smiled. “Classmate Lou, come on—let me tutor you.”

With that, she plopped the math textbook on Lou Huaiche’s desk and held out her hand. “Give it.”

“What?”

“Your test paper.”

Lou Huaiche swatted her hand away. “No way.”

Pandora University was an elite institution that flaunted its prestige by using archaic paper exams. Graded tests were returned to students, with scores and corrections clearly marked.

Out of 150 total points, Lou Huaiche had scored a solid 20.

She refused to let Jiang Youbai see that.

Jiang Youbai said breezily, “The next exam’s in a month. It’s already late June—don’t you want better grades?”

Lou Huaiche wavered. “I’m not giving it to you.”

Jiang Youbai tempted her: “I got 148 in math—just two points shy of perfect.”

Hearing that, Lou Huaiche caved and handed over the test.

To protect students’ privacy, the school only released rankings, not exact scores.

So while Jiang Youbai knew Lou Huaiche was at the bottom of the math class, she hadn’t realized just how bottom.

She stared at the 20-point paper in reverence for a full five minutes before concluding that this score matched Lou Huaiche’s favorability toward her perfectly.

This joke couldn’t be shared with Chi Ruo or Lou Huaiche . Feeling lonely, Jiang Youbai sent a message to the system: “System, you there?”

The system appeared, its tone unfriendly. “Host, what do you want?”

Jiang Youbai said, “Look, Lou Huaiche scored 20 in math.”

The system was baffled. “And?”

“It’s the same as her affection levelfor me!” Jiang Youbai said excitedly. “Both are 20!”

The system: “…?”

Having delivered her terrible joke, Jiang Youbai was satisfied. “That’s all. Just wanted to share. You can go now.”

The system: “???”

Jiang Youbai examined Lou Huaiche’s test. “The answer was ABC, but you picked D.”

Lou Huaiche defended herself weakly, “That’s what I calculated!”

“You left all the free-response questions blank? Not a single word?”

Lou Huaiche suddenly became indignant. “I didn’t know how to do them!”

“At least write ‘Solution’! Two ‘Solution’s get you one point!”

Lou Huaiche : “Huh? That works?”

Seeing Lou Huaiche’s genuine confusion, Jiang Youbai stared at her in awe. “You’re like a blank slate—completely untainted by the horrors of exams. Impressive.”

Lou Huaiche: “I know you’re insulting me.”

“Alright, let’s review your test.”

The tutoring session nearly cost Jiang Youbai half her lifespan.

She realized Lou Huaiche’s 20 points were pure luck—she didn’t know why her wrong answers were wrong, nor why the right ones were right. Her entire score was a fluke.

Lou Huaiche ’s math foundation was disastrous, with gaps dating back to middle school.

Catching her up would require starting from junior high basics.

After a long silence, Jiang Youbai said weakly, “Maybe… let’s look at another subject first. Math might be… too hopeless.”

Lou Huaiche pinched her arm. “What, is my math that bad? No, you’re tutoring me today. If I fail next month, it’s your fault.”

Fail?

Jiang Youbai was horrified. “On second thought, I take it back. Let me go fight for the throne instead. That sounds easier.”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Lou Huaiche fell silent and put away the test.

Softly, Lou Huaiche said, “Forget it. I won’t trouble you.”

Her voice was so quiet, the dejection unmistakable.

Jiang Youbai was at a loss. In the months they’d known each other, she’d seen Lou Huaiche hysterical, cold-blooded, and laid bare with pain—but never this disheartened.

Over something as trivial as failing math?

This was completely at odds with the Lou Huaiche she knew.

“Lou Huaiche?” she called hesitantly. “I was joking.”

Lou Huaiche said, “I know. I’m just tired.”

She didn’t even know why she bothered studying. Soon, she’d be trapped in the misery fate had carved out for her. Attending classes now was just her stubborn attempt to live an ordinary life.

Going to school, stressing over grades, then gleefully joining campus activities—carefree and unburdened.

That was the life Lou Huaiche should’ve had.

She’d clung to memories of the past, desperately trying to recapture a shadow of her old self.

Only now did she realize the fragments littering her path weren’t memories—they were her.

Jiang Youbai reopened the math book and pointed at a line. “Tell me, what does this mean?”

Lou Huaiche glanced at the formula, then at Jiang Youbai.

After a long pause, she said, “Thanks, Jiang Youbai. Now I feel worse.”

Jiang Youbai: “…”

Is math really that hard?