After The Mission Failed, The Scumbag Alpha Ran Away - Chapter 29

29: That Blue Fell into the Sea

The system entered a three-day dormancy. Jiang Youbai didn’t immediately discuss the process, timing, and location of the fake death with Ning Yunze, nor the follow-up plans.

Instead, she mobilized her small faction to make trouble for Jiang Qingxian and Crown Prince Jiang Qingjia.

Out of caution, Jiang Youbai didn’t use the remnants of the former Crown Princess’s faction in the capital or Chi Ruo’s forces. Her method of causing trouble was simple: she incited conflicts between the subordinates of the two princes.

The two patrol teams under their command had their own captains before being assigned to Jiang Qingxian and Jiang Qingjia. After the old emperor reassigned them, these captains were demoted to deputy leaders. However, though their rank was lowered, their actual status was elevated, as they became close aides to the imperial heirs.

Jiang Youbai had her people spread ambiguous rumors to them—today, it was that Jiang Qingxian had the emperor’s favor; tomorrow, it was that Jiang Qingjia was certain to ascend the throne.

She spent a bit of money to have the staff at the two shops the princes frequented recommend the same product to both of them.

This wasn’t difficult, and the staff happily agreed given the hefty reward.

Though the two princes didn’t openly quarrel over the item, they secretly competed. Jiang Youbai then had her subordinates ambush and beat up the one who bought the product.

The other prince initially paid no mind, but the next day, Jiang Youbai had him ambushed and beaten as well.

The two began to suspect each other, and given their opposing stances and past minor conflicts, a subtle hostility grew between them.

When Chi Ruo heard about it, she was speechless: “How did your tactics go from patiently laying low to a cliff-like drop into ambush-style political maneuvering?”

Jiang Youbai rubbed her chin: “I joined in too. Honestly, it was pretty satisfying.”

Chi Ruo: “Why bother? The two are politically opposed and bound to clash eventually.”

“Just keeping my hands busy with a little mischief.”

After taking action, Jiang Youbai noticed that the system remained dormant until the end of its three-day period. Even though she pressed the call button four times a day, the system seemed to have vanished without a trace.

Ning Yunze said, “The system might have other ways to contact its organization, or it might have reached a point where it had no choice but to extend its dormancy. Either way, its silence is good for us.”

They began planning the fake death. Jiang Youbai didn’t leave it entirely to Ning Yunze—instead, she brought Chi Ruo into the loop.

The three met at Fontainebleau. When Ning Yunze saw Chi Ruo, he immediately understood Jiang Youbai’s intentions and said with a faint smile, “Your Highness is truly Your Highness. No one can match your caution.”

Jiang Youbai raised an eyebrow: “What can I do? Councilor Chi is the one I trust most.”

Chi Ruo was confused: “Huh? What are you talking about?”

Time was tight. Jiang Youbai briefly explained the situation, including the system’s circumstances. Chi Ruo quickly grasped the matter and sat down with the other two to discuss the details.

Chi Ruo said, “So you’re saying you can actually die and transfer your soul?”

Ning Yunze nodded. Chi Ruo kicked the table leg: “Not a good idea, right? Actual death is too risky. Better to fake it. Who knows if you’re just tricking Jiang Youbai into dying to help Jiang Qingxian seize the throne?”

Ning Yunze glanced at Jiang Youbai. She was holding a teacup, using the lid to skim off the tea leaves, and took a sip as if she hadn’t heard the conversation.

He sighed: “But if it’s just a fake death, the preparations need to be more thorough. The death of a prince will inevitably require rigorous DNA verification. If she dies for no reason, the emperor will send people to investigate.”

“Does transferring consciousness require the original body to die?” Jiang Youbai interrupted.

“No,” Ning Yunze added. “In fact, if the original body’s vital signs are normal, the transfer is simpler and safer.”

“Then that’s settled,” Jiang Youbai set down her teacup. “Prepare a backup body in a safe location. I’ll fake my death in public—something like falling into the sea, where the body can’t be immediately recovered—then transfer my consciousness afterward and dispose of the original body.”

She tapped the table: “We also need three contingency plans: fake death, no fake death, and failed fake death. As for my ‘funeral arrangements’—you’ll have to get Jiang Qingxian to handle that.”

Chi Ruo kicked her: “What the hell? ‘Funeral arrangements’?”

Jiang Youbai winced: “Ouch, why kick me so hard? It’s just funeral arrangements. If things go smoothly, I might even attend my own funeral.”

Chi Ruo: “…”

She didn’t want to engage further and rolled her eyes: “Preparing a backup body isn’t hard. Most nobles clone their own tissues for emergencies. Cloning an adult body is simple with current technology. The tricky part is keeping it secret… I’ve heard there were even androids in the pre-era.”

The three finalized the general process. Ning Yunze asked, “When should we schedule it?”

Jiang Youbai thought for a moment: “The day of the fireworks festival.”

“The fireworks festival?” Ning Yunze frowned slightly. “Are you sure?”

“There’s one more thing I need to do. That day is the only opportunity to make it work.”

“But—” Ning Yunze opened his mouth, then weakly murmured, “But…”

Lou Huaiche had told him she wanted to attend the fireworks festival with Jiang Youbai.

She hadn’t explicitly voiced her hopes, but Ning Yunze had clearly seen the flicker of anticipation in her eyes. For Jiang Youbai to fake her death on that day—wouldn’t that be too cruel for Lou Huaiche?

But Jiang Youbai was right. In the near future, the fireworks festival was the only day chaotic enough to cover their tracks.

Forget it. Ning Yunze sighed: “Nothing else matters now.”

They’d already overcome ninety-nine hurdles. This last one, no matter how difficult, had to be faced head-on.

With less than a week until the fireworks festival, the tight timeline made preparations incredibly demanding. Chi Ruo bore the heaviest burden.

She had to prepare Jiang Youbai’s clone in an extremely short time, arrange its concealment, and ensure no one discovered it or grew suspicious.

Especially the old imperial faction—they couldn’t be allowed to suspect anything, yet they had to be leveraged to help.

With so little time and so few people, Chi Ruo simply faked a critical illness for Jiang Youbai. Externally, Jiang Youbai stopped appearing in public, refusing to meet anyone. Internally, she told the old imperial faction that perhaps another prince could be created—this clone might even be easier to control than Jiang Youbai herself.

A new clone wouldn’t necessarily be easier to control. Creating an adult clone in such a short time might not even develop self-awareness. But with the prince’s position nearly vacant, the old imperial faction had no choice but to accept it.

Ning Yunze, meanwhile, prepared to shift the prince’s responsibilities onto Jiang Qingxian.

But this wasn’t urgent. Whether done sooner or later, the outcome would be the same. Especially since Jiang Youbai, now confined at home, had stirred up enough trouble for the two heirs that Jiang Qingxian had no time to handle additional matters.

Jiang Youbai pondered—since she was about to fake her death, there was no need to worry about leaving traces or arousing suspicion. Within reason, she could cause as much trouble as she wanted. She even found a way to hassle the old emperor:

She spread rumors that the eldest imperial grandson had actually been assassinated by someone with a deep hatred for the imperial family—a person of considerable skill who operated undetected under the imperial nose, suggesting formidable power and fearlessness of imperial retaliation.

To lend credibility, she leaked a fragment of the eldest grandson’s personal terminal.

She had smashed it to pieces back then, most of which had been flushed down the drain. Even if the capital’s people sifted through sewage for a year, they’d never find it. But out of instinctive caution, Jiang Youbai had kept one fragment—now finally put to use.

The old emperor grew paranoid, constantly fearing assassination. In his panic, his actions became increasingly erratic, much to the distress of the capital’s nobility.

Since it was easy and she was about to “die,” Jiang Youbai egged on the conservatives: “Ah, since His Majesty ascended the throne, life hasn’t been easy for Alphas. They say the Crown Princess was mentally ill—could His Majesty be the same…?”

The conservatives took the hint. Their relationship with the emperor was already strained, and with nothing to lose, they fanned the flames, spreading rumors to further unsettle him.

Chi Ruo, busy as she was, still found time to scold her: “If the fake death fails, aren’t you just creating trouble for yourself? In just a few days, you’ve thrown the capital into chaos.”

Jiang Youbai shrugged: “It’s not like I’m on a suicide mission. Just a bit of mischief. Even if the fake death fails, it’s not a big deal. I didn’t ‘find’ that fragment—the eldest prince did.”

Time flew, and soon it was the day of the fireworks festival.

The three reviewed the plan one last time. Ning Yunze was still curious: “Why did you leave an hour blank? What are you planning to do?”

“Nothing important. Just a small matter.”

By evening, Jiang Youbai received a message from Lou Huaiche:

“Your Highness, heading out now? Where should we meet?”

Jiang Youbai replied: “The entrance to Central Plaza.”

The two hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since their parting at the bar six days ago.

Lou Huaiche’s emotions had been turbulent these past few days.

After waking up from her drunken stupor the next day, her head throbbed painfully. She lay in bed for a long time before recovering.

In her daze, she remembered the last person she’d seen was Ning Yunze. After thanking him, she realized she’d been scrolling through her chat history with Jiang Youbai.

She hadn’t actually sent many messages to Jiang Youbai these days—just enough to maintain a restrained, inconspicuous frequency. Not too deliberate, not too passive. A couple of unsolved homework problems, two inquiries about her rut.

That was all.

As if their relationship was just that—nothing more.

A faint resonance, born of ambiguous mutual attraction and rivalry, ending before true feelings could take root, barely tasting the sweetness and bitterness of love.

Lou Huaiche stopped caring when Jiang Youbai would reply. She no longer paid attention to whether gossip on the streets mentioned that name.

She slowly pulled this unplanned affection out of her heart, strand by strand.

At first, Lou Huaiche had wanted to find a way to end her reincarnation cycle through Jiang Youbai.

But she soon realized Jiang Youbai herself was trapped in the game, a pawn in someone else’s scheme. She stood at a height everyone admired, towering and unshakable, yet there was no place for her on that peak—only biting cold.

Perhaps after August, she’d find a way. Or perhaps Lou Huaiche would once again be swept into the storm of fate, reincarnating anew.

Lou Huaiche thought to herself: One last time.

Let her heart linger on someone one last time. Let her gaze rest on her one last time.

The two spotted each other in the crowd at Central Plaza.

Dusk had fallen. Amid the bustling crowd, Lou Huaiche saw Jiang Youbai in a blue dress walking toward her, step by step, against the flow of people.

Jiang Youbai had tied her hair with a blue ribbon and wore a strapless blue mini dress, tall and graceful, smiling as she approached.

The plaza’s lights gradually brightened around her. She walked under the scattered light, the sequins on her dress shimmering with a delicate, dazzling glow, like the light in her eyes.

It was as if she’d crossed a long journey, traversing raging currents, to finally arrive by Lou Huaiche’s side.

As night fell, brilliant fireworks bloomed across the sky.

The crowd cheered and clamored. Lou Huaiche heard her own heart pounding.

For a moment, it seemed the world held only the two of them. Those indescribable feelings of love entwined around them, and the colors before her eyes suddenly became vivid and alive.

When they were apart, she could suppress it. But now that they were face-to-face, she realized how fiercely she’d missed her.

Jiang Youbai stopped before her and handed Lou Huaiche a blue rose.

Her eyes sparkled with a soft, faint smile. Under the lights and fireworks, her porcelain-like face seemed enchantingly beautiful.

Her smile carried a myriad of charms, and when she lifted her gaze—perhaps because of the night’s hues—she looked fragile and ethereal.

Lou Huaiche stared at her eyes, mesmerized, as if thousands of stars had fallen into them. Unconsciously, she sighed: “Your Highness, you’re so beautiful.”

Jiang Youbai looked deeply at Lou Huaiche: “The blue rose symbolizes Pandora’s hope.”

“Pandora’s box contained many disasters, but the last thing inside was hope.”

Her gaze was radiant.

“Lou Huaiche, Pandora’s box must hold hope.”

These words were for Lou Huaiche—and for Jiang Youbai herself.

Hope. Such a beautiful word. Even in endless darkness, one could still yearn for hope.

Lou Huaiche held the rose. Clusters of fireworks rose into the sky, bursting into dazzling colors. From the direction of Fafnir, countless meteors streaked across the heavens, leaving behind brilliant, shimmering trails.

The two looked up at the sky in unison.

Such a perfect night, such a perfect scene.

As the meteor shower fell, Jiang Youbai lowered her gaze to Lou Huaiche.

The crowd was loud. Lou Huaiche pressed her lips together and said something to Jiang Youbai under the dazzling sky.

Jiang Youbai strained to hear but couldn’t make it out.

At that moment, her wrist terminal vibrated. Jiang Youbai opened it—a message from Ning Yunze:

“Your Highness, it’s time for the blank hour you scheduled.”

Jiang Youbai leaned closer to Lou Huaiche, raising a hand to brush the tiny teardrop mole at the corner of her eye. Softly, she said: “Miss Lou, I have something to attend to. I’m afraid I can’t stay with you any longer. The fireworks are beautiful. I loved them. And you’re beautiful too.”

“Goodbye.”

Goodbye. After today, we’ll be separated by life and death.

It’s good that you never fell too deep, and I didn’t lose everything.

Without waiting for Lou Huaiche’s response, Jiang Youbai turned and left, her steps hurried as she vanished into the crowd.

Lou Huaiche held the rose loosely, lowering her eyes.

What she’d just said to Jiang Youbai was—never mind. Next time. Next time she saw Jiang Youbai, she’d tell her then.

At the eastern edge of Central Plaza stood a tall tower where the aging emperor stood at the highest level, surrounded by layers of guards.

Not far behind the tower was a bay, the sea churning with waves under the dark night, shimmering under the moonlight.

Though she’d told Jiang Youbai she wouldn’t attend the fireworks festival, the imperial tradition was to ascend the tower on this day and receive the homage of the masses.

It was a symbol of imperial power—one the old emperor wouldn’t pass up.

Standing at the pinnacle of power, gazing down at the common folk under his rule.

The emperor reveled in the intoxication of his authority. On this day, if imperial family members sought an audience, the usual formalities were waived since they were outside the palace—only a search was required.

Jiang Youbai announced her request to see the emperor at the tower’s base. After a strict search, the guards let her pass.

Dressed in her blue gown, Jiang Youbai ascended the tower step by step.

Lou Huaiche looked up just in time to see a figure in blue climbing higher. The only person who’d be wearing blue at the tower now was Jiang Youbai.

She pushed through the crowd, heading toward the tower as well.

Though she couldn’t enter or get too close to the imperial tower, there was a cliff by the sea behind it, fenced off with railings. When Jiang Youbai descended after her audience, she’d pass this way.

Lou Huaiche leaned against the railing, gazing at the rolling waves. The sea breeze carried a hint of warmth.

Holding the rose, she waited for Jiang Youbai to descend so she could stop her and repeat what she’d just said.

Her heart burned with emotion, urging her to cast aside all hesitation and speak her mind.

Jiang Youbai slowly reached the tower’s summit.

When she arrived, the old emperor was seated on a lavish chair. The wind was strong at that height, so he wore a cloak and gripped his scepter tightly, mesmerized by the lively scene below.

Seeing Jiang Youbai approach, he waved her over, unusually amiable: “Youbai, come here. Weren’t you looking forward to the fireworks festival?”

Jiang Youbai smiled and walked to his side. She murmured to herself: “Uncle.”

The emperor frowned.

Jiang Youbai had always been cautious, never overstepping in her address.

Normally, he’d have been furious, but today was a festive occasion, so he coldly acknowledged it, tolerating her minor breach of etiquette.

Guards flanked them. Jiang Youbai lowered her voice and leaned down to the emperor: “Uncle, do you know? In all my years, this is only my third time at the fireworks festival. The spectacle is grand, but honestly, it’s boring.”

Her voice was so soft only the emperor could hear. Her smile widened, tinged with a malicious delight:

“Just like you and your imperial power. Boring.”

The emperor shot to his feet, glaring sharply at Jiang Youbai: “Prince, have you lost your mind?”

Jiang Youbai laughed loudly, her mirth laced with a madness that unsettled even the emperor: “Yes, Uncle. Today, I came to tell you one thing.”

She raised her hand and slapped the emperor twice—hard.

Jiang Youbai was close, her movements swift and sudden. The crisp sound of the blows echoed. The guards and the emperor were too stunned to react.

“You disgust me. That’s all. I just wanted to say that.”

She’d actually wanted to say more—perhaps mock her uncle, drop a few cryptic threats—but faced with his aged visage, she couldn’t resist the urge to strike.

Chi Ruo was on the call with her. Through the earpiece, her furious voice rang out: “Jiang Youbai! You made us clear an hour for this? You—!”

The emperor, having lived in luxury for years, was dazed by the slaps. When he recovered, he roared: “Seize her!”

Jiang Youbai laughed heartily, darting past the guards and leaping off the tower.

It was as if she’d jumped free from years of pain and repression. All the shadows of her past life stretched like viscous liquid, clawing to devour her but unable to keep up with her plummeting speed.

The accelerating weightlessness made her feel as if her body was floating, then tossed aside.

At the edge of life and death, an unprecedented exhilaration surged in her chest.

The prince’s facade was torn away by her own hands, revealing the ferocious ghost beneath.

She was Jiang Youbai.

No longer the empire’s prince.

The wind howled in her ears. Jiang Youbai’s dress fluttered, tracing a blue shimmering line in the air like a butterfly.

Lou Huaiche was gazing at the sea when a feather-light blue suddenly drifted into view.

She blinked, instinctively following that wisp of blue with her eyes. The color filled her vision—the same blue that had just moments ago walked toward her, smiling under the light.

Lou Huaiche stood frozen, watching as that butterfly-like blue plummeted straight into the churning sea below the cliff.

All was calm again. The sea met the sky, the full moon hanging on the horizon as if melting into the water—serene and beautiful.

The blue that had fallen from the tower seemed never to have existed, as if it were just Lou Huaiche’s imagination.

Behind her, the tower’s patrol sirens wailed. Searchlights blazed overhead, illuminating the vast, romantic sea before her.

Under the blinding light, voices shouted: “The prince has jumped into the sea—!”

Lou Huaiche blinked slowly.

Two teardrops fell onto the rose in her hand.