After The Mission Failed, The Scumbag Alpha Ran Away - Chapter 43

43: Stealing the Spotlight

Last year, Jiang Youbai received a notice from the sanatorium informing her that her mother was expected to pass away within six months.

At the time, she didn’t have the opportunity to visit. Afterward, she became entangled in various matters, and after faking her death, it became even more impossible.

As for how her mother, under the heavily guarded and medically advanced conditions of the modern era, managed to swap her own child, Jiang Qingxian, with the old emperor’s princess—this was something neither Jiang Youbai nor Chi Ruo could figure out.

The difficulty of pulling off such a feat was nearly insurmountable. No one could imagine how it had been accomplished. Moreover, her mother suffered from severe schizophrenia, which worsened over time, leaving her scarcely lucid. This made it even harder to uncover the truth.

Even during her rare moments of clarity, she harbored nothing but hatred for anyone associated with the Empire.

Jiang Youbai had once yearned for maternal love from her.

But her mother was a true madwoman, her own life shattered and fragmented, let alone capable of offering love to a child forced upon her.

Since Jiang Youbai’s return after faking her death, Chi Ruo rarely brought up her identity. This time, likely concerned about Jiang Youbai’s grief, she said a few more words.

“Jiang Qingxian actually visited your mother in secret, accompanied by Ning Yunze… At the time, your mother was lucid, but the sight of Jiang Qingxian sent her into a violent frenzy. She immediately had a psychotic episode, screaming that she wanted to kill Jiang Qingxian.”

“To your mother, every noble in the capital was her enemy, and her own child was a hated disgrace. Swapping the children might have just been an act of revenge, a way to mock the royal family. Jiang Youbai, don’t take it too hard.”

Jiang Youbai let out a bitter laugh.

She was a person with little familial affection. The Crown Princess had died before she could form memories, her Omega mother was a lunatic, her uncle was a paranoid and suspicious old emperor, and the other elders were distant at best.

Chi Ruo was the same.

Their elders taught them many things—how to scheme, how to balance reputation and avoiding suspicion—but never gave them genuine love, the kind that would have allowed them to grow up whole, to pass through childhood and adolescence intact.

Because they were never properly guided, never truly allowed to grow up, she and Chi Ruo seemed forever stuck in childhood. As adults, one became cold and capricious, the other dissolute and volatile.

They would never grow up, forever trying to compensate for what they lacked in childhood, forever making mistakes because of the flaws in their personalities left unformed in their youth.

So Jiang Youbai and Chi Ruo could only rely on each other, leaning on one another for comfort.

Jiang Youbai sighed, not wanting Chi Ruo to worry too much. After a moment’s thought, she sent her a message: “It’s fine. I’ve been prepared for this for a long time. If I have any family, it’s probably just you.”

Seeing this, Chi Ruo confirmed that Jiang Youbai wasn’t overly distressed—she had mentally prepared herself long ago—and dropped the subject, urging instead: “Then report to the Lower House this afternoon. There’s always been a seat reserved for the Lower City District, but the Betas from there have never successfully migrated. I’ve proposed giving that seat to you. The Lower House still needs to hold a meeting to decide.”

Jiang Youbai: “It feels like my life is a wind-up frog toy, hopping forward nonstop until the spring unwinds. Even with my mother’s death, as long as the spring’s still wound, I have to keep hopping.”

Chi Ruo comforted her: “Don’t worry, when I die, you’ll have to keep hopping. Save your grief for then.”

Jiang Youbai: “…”

Lou Huaiche, sitting quietly on the sofa, had been watching Jiang Youbai’s every move. When Jiang Youbai put away her personal terminal, she looked up and asked, “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

Jiang Youbai rubbed her temples and said calmly, “It’s nothing. Chi Ruo just told me my mother passed away. She was worried I’d take it hard, so she comforted me.”

Lou Huaiche fell silent.

Perhaps Chi Ruo couldn’t understand Jiang Youbai’s feelings at this moment, but Lou Huaiche could. Their emotions toward their mothers were equally complicated—unable to stop loving them, yet unable to stop hating them.

Remembering what Jiang Youbai had once told her, Lou Huaiche stood up, patted her back, and said softly, “Maybe for you and your mother, this is a form of liberation.”

It was true.

For Jiang Youbai’s mother, it meant her cruel, chaotic life had finally come to an end. For Jiang Youbai, it meant she could finally stop tormenting herself over the fact that her mother never loved her.

Jiang Youbai lowered her eyes and said to Lou Huaiche, “I have to go to the Lower House this afternoon. Chi Ruo found a way to slot me in. They’re holding a meeting to decide whether I stay, but with Chi Ruo leading the charge, even a three-year-old could get in.”

Lou Huaiche said, “But the Lower House’s election process still has to be followed. They’ll probably assign you to the Ministry of Industry or Health first.”

Jiang Youbai’s head ached at the mention of the Ministry of Health: “I’ve spent ages managing trash cans and sewers there. And it’s so hard to make achievements in Health. They’ll probably toss me into Industry, right?”

“The Lower City District’s seat has been empty for a while, so they might make an exception for you. Once you’ve made some achievements, they’ll assign you a position directly.”

Jiang Youbai groaned and buried her face in Lou Huaiche’s shoulder. “Ugh, I don’t want to go to work. I’ve been on vacation for so long. The thought of going back makes me want to jump off a building.”

Lou Huaiche pulled her up. “Enough. Stop running from the future. This is something you have to face.”

“I’d rather face death than face work.”

Jiang Youbai dragged herself upstairs to shower and change before heading out with Chi Ruo.

Before going up, she said to Lou Huaiche, “The room with the axe marks on the door is mine. You can pick any other room on the second floor, but this is my private residence, so the other rooms don’t have clothes or anything prepared.”

Lou Huaiche was startled. “Axe marks?”

Jiang Youbai rubbed her nose. “Chi Ruo and I had a fight once. I locked myself in and refused to see her, so she took an axe to my door to force me out for a brawl. After the royal manor was repaired, I moved out, and she never bothered fixing the door—said it’d make me remember this forever.”

Lou Huaiche was still shocked. “You and Chi Ruo fought like that? That’s worse than enemies!”

“Ah, youth and tempers… But it was my fault in the end.”

With that, Jiang Youbai went upstairs, entered her room, picked out an outfit, tossed it on the bed, and took a quick shower.

Under the spray of hot water, she stared blankly at the steam fogging up the mirror, her own eyes misting over as well.

All her composure… ended here.

Jiang Youbai finished her shower, wiped her face hard, dried herself off, changed, and went downstairs.

Lou Huaiche wasn’t there—probably off showering in one of the guest rooms. Jiang Youbai didn’t dwell on it and hurried to the main hall of Chi Manor, where Chi Ruo had been waiting, to head to the Lower House together.

After their falling-out years ago, the two had rarely appeared together in public, maintaining only superficial interactions.

Once aboard the aircraft, Chi Ruo set the route and studied Jiang Youbai’s face.

“You cried?”

Jiang Youbai was a little embarrassed. She’d already splashed cold water on her face, but Chi Ruo still noticed.

“A little.”

Chi Ruo fished a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, lit one, and took a few puffs. “Well, I don’t know what to say. Being able to vent your emotions is a skill, not a bad thing. It’s just that things are too busy right now. Don’t let your mood affect your performance.”

Jiang Youbai slumped back in her seat as usual, looking half-dead. “I really don’t want to go to work. The thought of dealing with all those people and their nonsense makes me sick.”

Chi Ruo said, “You’re not a royal anymore. Even if you’re a little rude and refuse to engage, so what? You’ve got Chi Ruo, the top Beta in the capital, backing you. Don’t embarrass me.”

Jiang Youbai sat up abruptly and clapped her hands. “I forgot—I’m not the unlucky royal anymore.”

“Exactly,” Chi Ruo couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you still acting like before? Besides, Betas and Alphas rarely interact. There’s hardly any socializing between them, and there aren’t many noble Betas anyway, so there’s no need for all that decorum.”

Jiang Youbai thought about Chi Ruo’s reputation in the capital—temperamental, domineering, flamboyant.

She rubbed her chin, deep in thought.

…

The Lower House members were holding an informal meeting today. Chi Ruo, a powerful figure in the House with a strong background but few alliances, had somehow dug up a Beta from the Lower City District, claiming that the Lower City seat had been vacant for too long and needed filling.

The members were all scheming in their hearts. Some thought this signaled Chi Ruo’s intent to start forming alliances. Others saw an opportunity to criticize and pull Chi Ruo down, hoping to take her place as the House’s top leader.

Some were just there for the show, while others looked down on the Lower City commoner and wanted to put her in her place.

When Chi Ruo arrived late with this Beta in tow, everyone realized they might have kicked an iron plate.

To appear imposing and formal, most had worn suits, hoping to intimidate the newcomer.

But as the two approached, it became clear they’d miscalculated. Chi Ruo was her usual flamboyant self, and the Beta beside her wasn’t even wearing formal attire.

Not only was she not dressed formally, but she also matched Chi Ruo’s style.

She wore a red silk blouse, loose white cropped trousers, and high heels, walking in perfect sync with Chi Ruo.

This Bai Mu’s aura was even more striking than Chi Ruo’s, her movements effortless and graceful, exuding the confidence of someone long accustomed to power.

When Bai Mu stepped closer, her strikingly beautiful face turned toward them, and every member’s heart skipped a beat.

Wasn’t this the deceased royal, Jiang Youbai?

She looked exactly like her—anyone unfamiliar would’ve mistaken her for the real Jiang Youbai.

The only difference was her expression—cool and arrogant, devoid of Jiang Youbai’s gentle, courteous demeanor.

As soon as this Beta entered, the members heard her laugh, her voice lazy and unhurried: “Why is everyone so formal? Isn’t this just a small meeting?”

With that single sentence, she’d already belittled everyone present.

They’d intended to flaunt their status and subtly demean this Lower City commoner, but Bai Mu wasn’t cowed in the slightest. Instead, she made them look overly cautious, as if they’d already lost before the battle began.

Chi Ruo chimed in: “They’re just showing you respect.”

Those who’d dressed formally for the small meeting felt their teeth ache at the sarcasm.

Their attempt to humble Bai Mu had been meant to undermine Chi Ruo, but this Bai Mu was too unshakable. Before they could embarrass Chi Ruo, they’d embarrassed themselves.

And these unspoken subtleties were things most people wouldn’t even notice, let alone turn into a point of contention.

Chi Ruo and Jiang Youbai didn’t press further. Jiang Youbai followed Chi Ruo to their seats and gave a brief self-introduction.

She was using the identity Lou Huaiche had provided, so her introduction matched it.

The Lower House members frowned. Bai Mu’s resume was utterly unremarkable, nothing special about it. Such Betas were a dime a dozen—hardly worth their attention.

Someone spoke up skeptically: “Miss Bai’s resume is quite ordinary. The only notable thing is her Lower City origins.”

The meeting room erupted in scattered laughter.

Another person picked up the thread: “But since Miss Bai is from the Lower City, we could make an exception. She could train in a few administrative departments first before joining the Lower House to fill the vacancy. It’s just hard to see her capabilities from this.”

As soon as the words fell, countless eyes turned to Jiang Youbai, waiting for her reaction.

Some anticipated her counterattack, others her humiliation.

Under their collective gaze, the Beta beside Chi Ruo stood up.

She scanned the room, her crimson lips curling into a bright smile. Then, with a flick of her tongue, she named every single person present, accurately listing all their positions, responsibilities, and tenures.

This wasn’t impossible with prior research, but memorizing it all so thoroughly showed she was no pushover.

The members, seasoned in political storms, hid their surprise and waited for her next move.

The first skeptic sneered: “If Miss Bai’s only skill is memorization, I’m afraid she’s hardly fit for the House.”

Jiang Youbai lazily glanced at him, still smiling. “You’re the Minister of Education, right?”

The man glared. “Yes.”

Then, this Lower City Beta, still smiling, recounted his achievements and failures in office, citing every statistic, briefly critiquing his performance, and suggesting how his policies could be improved. She even named all his frequent associates.

The man shot Chi Ruo a look, assuming she’d fed Bai Mu a script to memorize. If he could steer the topic away, he’d win. Casually, he asked, “Memorizing a script isn’t impressive. Can you briefly share your thoughts on the capital’s urban planning?”

Chi Ruo, who’d been observing silently, glanced at him.

Her bright red lips and dramatic makeup made her look like she was issuing a warning, which only emboldened him. “Miss Bai, can you?”

Jiang Youbai: “…” Well, if he’d asked anything else, she might’ve needed time to think. But urban planning? That was her specialty.

She launched into a rapid-fire analysis, covering overall planning from three angles and four dimensions, offering at least six potential solutions, down to the smallest details.

The meeting, originally a casual gathering to assess her, turned into a solo lecture on “The Development of Urban Planning in the Capital’s Upper and Lower Districts.”

Everyone present, except Chi Ruo, wore varying degrees of shock.

What kind of genius could improvise such a detailed analysis on the spot?

Jiang Youbai spoke for an hour. Only after Chi Ruo kicked her chair twice and coughed repeatedly did she reluctantly wrap up: “We’re out of time today, but I’d love to continue this discussion another time. Oh, Minister, did you have anything else to add?”

The skeptic had nothing to add.

By unwritten custom, when two members debated, if one stood, the other remained standing until the discussion ended.

So while Jiang Youbai spoke for over an hour, this man had been standing the entire time.

Doing nothing. Just standing.

His legs were numb, his feet sore—all he wanted was to sit down. He waved dismissively. “No, Miss Bai is impressive.”

Without waiting for Jiang Youbai to respond, he hastily took his seat.

Jiang Youbai asked, “Anyone else?”

A member in the corner ignored her, speaking just loud enough to override her: “Which department should we assign Miss Bai to?”

The room collectively exhaled in relief—finally, they could move on.

After this meeting, no one dared challenge Chi Ruo’s Beta protégé.

Hadn’t they seen even Chi Ruo getting annoyed and kicking Bai Mu’s chair?

Without further ado, they efficiently assigned Jiang Youbai to the Ministry of Industry for a six-month probation period. The meeting adjourned amicably, with none of the usual post-meeting small talk. Everyone scattered instantly.

Soon, only Jiang Youbai and Chi Ruo remained in the meeting room.

Jiang Youbai blinked. “Why’d they leave so fast?”

Chi Ruo: “Normally, before Lower House meetings, everyone likes to chat over tea and snacks. Sessions usually last about forty minutes before a bathroom break. You talked for nearly two hours straight. I think most of them just really had to pee.”

Jiang Youbai rubbed her chin. “But I really know this stuff well.”

Chi Ruo asked, “Aren’t you thirsty?”

“My uncle used to talk for three hours without drinking water. This is nothing.”

“You might not be thirsty, but I sure as hell am!” Chi Ruo took a deep breath. “Next time, keep it shorter, okay? Even formal Lower House meetings aren’t this exhausting.”

After this meeting, Bai Mu’s name spread like wildfire among the Betas. When, within days of joining the Ministry of Industry, she exposed two corrupt Alphas, even the Crown Prince heard of her and sought to befriend her.

But before the Crown Prince could extend an invitation, Jiang Qingxian’s arrived first.