Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 10

Cheng Lang rushed out of the café and quickly got into her car. It wasn’t until she had driven past the gates of the Military Medical University that the suffocating pressure in her chest finally began to ease.

Her mind was in chaos. Eventually, she pulled over.

When the engine stopped, Cheng Lang kept her hands on the steering wheel and exhaled deeply.

She dropped her forehead against it, her thoughts blank, unable to describe what she was feeling.

The guilt she had felt when she first got involved with Tong Xianglu now surged back with brutal force—raw and overwhelming. It collided violently in her chest, fueled by how abruptly Song Zhen had discovered the truth and how, right after her return, all the disgrace she had tried to conceal was exposed immediately.

Cheng Lang used to think she was the one in control of this relationship.

But today, she realized just how wrong she had been.

Painfully, absurdly wrong.

Song Zhen was still that same Song Zhen she had always known—unchanged from childhood: principled, upright, and, most terrifying of all, unwavering in her convictions. She knew exactly what she wanted—and what she didn’t. Today, Cheng Lang had almost found herself speechless in front of her.

Cheng Lang closed her eyes.

Even as the one who had betrayed, she now felt, deeply and irrevocably, that the sincere love she once had… was fading.

The past she left behind when she went abroad—was unreachable now.

She shut her eyes tighter. Her temples throbbed, sharp and painful.

A familiar voice reached her ears, always carrying a trace of nonchalance no matter what it said.

Song Zhen flinched slightly. Through the slits between her fingers, she saw the person now sitting across from her.

She knew immediately who it was. Her fingers trembled.

For a brief moment, Song Zhen didn’t want to lower her hands.

Not out of pride—but out of sheer embarrassment.

She looked awful.

So utterly defeated.

She didn’t want anyone to see her like this—so broken, so undignified.

She stayed silent. Unmoving. The air froze between them.

Then came a familiar sigh—tinged with helplessness, and something else Song Zhen had sensed from her far too many times: quiet sympathy.

“Jiejie, your coffee spilled. Your hand’s dirty,” Zhu Sui said softly, for once without her usual edge of authority.

Then, she reached out to take Song Zhen’s hand. Song Zhen instinctively pulled away, but Zhu Sui didn’t press—she simply tried again, gently, several times.

In the end, Song Zhen relented, allowing Zhu Sui to take her coffee-stained hand. Her face was half-revealed. With a sigh, she lowered her other hand too, but she kept her head low, unwilling to show any emotion.

Zhu Sui held her wrist, pulled out a wet wipe, and slowly began wiping her fingers.

It was as if she knew what Song Zhen was thinking. She didn’t look up, just carefully focused on her task, even cleaning between each finger. After wiping twice, the stickiness on her hand was replaced by cool cleanliness.

“All done,” Zhu Sui said as she let go.

Song Zhen flinched, pulling her hand back as if she’d been burned.

“Let’s switch tables—this one’s covered in coffee…” Zhu Sui paused, then added gently, “You pick one you like. I’ll call the waiter.”

Before Song Zhen could speak or move, Zhu Sui stood up and gave her space.

Song Zhen knew—this was Zhu Sui’s way of giving her dignity. Time to collect herself.

She had seen all of Song Zhen’s mess, her awkwardness, and her shame.

Not just seen—but quietly, considerately shielded her from more.

That thought made Song Zhen’s eyes sting. For a brief second, she even felt… useless.

When Zhu Sui returned, Song Zhen had indeed chosen a new table. Zhu Sui placed a glass of water in front of her. “Soda water. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I picked something random.”

So thoughtful—not the slightest chance for awkwardness.

Song Zhen lifted her eyes slightly. Today, Zhu Sui was in her usual casual outfit. A sporty jacket—simple, but not shabby. There wasn’t a single designer logo in sight, yet she still exuded an air of effortless elegance, the kind that came from a life of comfort and cultivation.

Her fingers, slender and graceful, stirred her coffee. Her long lashes were lowered, and her dark, shoulder-length hair fell like silk over her shoulders.

Noticing Song Zhen’s gaze, Zhu Sui said, “What is it…”

Before she could finish, Song Zhen opened her mouth. Her voice was hoarse and bitter.

“Every time I see you… I’m always a mess.”

Zhu Sui froze.

Song Zhen raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot. She hadn’t cried—but the expression on her face was more hopeless than tears.

“And you… you’re always…”

How could she explain?

Their first encounter—she was flustered. Zhu Sui, calm.

Their second—she was disheveled. Zhu Sui, composed.

Now—her hands were a mess of coffee. Zhu Sui, pristine from head to toe.

And not just on the surface.

Inside, she was a woman drowning in emotional turmoil. Zhu Sui, the refined daughter of an old, noble family. Most days, it didn’t feel so glaring. But today—just one look at Zhu Sui made Song Zhen feel the full weight of her disgrace.

Zhu Sui’s poise was like a mirror—reflecting every bit of Song Zhen’s shame.

“…You’re always so composed. So well-mannered.”

She barely got the words out before covering her face again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be saying this, it’s just…”

“You must’ve heard everything just now. I—I actually…”

She tried to explain herself, again and again, but the words wouldn’t come. Eventually, she gave up. Brow furrowed deeply, she muttered, “Sorry. I promised to treat you to dinner. Maybe…”

Her fingers trembled. “Maybe we can do it another day.”

“You saw me today. I was just…”

But this time, her self-conscious rambling was interrupted—Zhu Sui had placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

“Shhh—”

Song Zhen froze.

Zhu Sui’s voice was soft. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, jiejie.”

Song Zhen’s throat tightened. She swallowed.

She closed her eyes. Her emotions were on the verge of collapse.

Zhu Sui watched her for a moment, then suddenly said, “Treat me next time. For now, let’s go have a drink.”

Song Zhen blinked, startled.

Zhu Sui’s tone was certain. “You don’t usually drink, right?”

“Want me to take you?” she asked. “Let’s go taste what heartbreak really feels like.”

“Want me to take you, jiejie?”

“To taste what it’s like to drown your sorrow.”

Zhu Sui raised her brow slightly, a glimmer flowing in her long, elegant eyes. Just that one look, and Song Zhen felt bewitched. She nodded.

“We grew up together. Middle school, high school, college—we attended the same schools all the way through… I even got into the accelerated youth program because of my grades…”

“First Military Medical University was my dream. She secretly chose the same on her application…”

“It’s ridiculous when I think about it now. After our secondary differentiation, she was always afraid I’d stop loving her. But, as the saying goes—reality is far more dramatic than TV.”

After six or seven drinks, Song Zhen finally began to pour out her past.

Zhu Sui had brought her here precisely to let her vent, and now sat silently, the perfect listener.

Song Zhen was clearly tipsy—perhaps she’d been holding it in too long. Once she started, the words came tumbling out, messy and unstoppable, like a dam breaking.

“Her research project—the Z serum—that concept was mine. But at the time… how should I put it… she was short one topic, and the deadline was looming. So, I gave it to her… Then once she modeled it, the military medical academy got really excited…”

“I didn’t mind. I didn’t care who took the lead…”

“But it grew bigger and bigger. And now…”

“She got close to Tong Xianglu—I know why. She’s scared. The Tong family’s been stuck at the clinical trial bottleneck for eight or nine years. We made progress early on, but with District Three ahead of us, she’s afraid we’ll hit the same wall once we reach their level of research…”

“I get it. It’s a real hurdle. Even now, I’m not confident we’ll overcome it. I understand her fear… because I’m afraid too…”

“If she doesn’t love me anymore, if she prefers Omegas now, then fine.”

“But she knows. She knows what this research means to me. She knows there’s no one in the world who understands that better than she does… Even if we’re divorced, we grew up together. How could she—how could she still… It’s too much. It’s just—too much!”

Her words, vague at first, now burst out with sudden intensity.

Song Zhen’s shoulders trembled. Her voice was hoarse. If it weren’t for the dryness in her eyes, Zhu Sui might have thought she was crying.

But even so—this scene wasn’t much better than crying.

“For two years. Over seven hundred days. I was on the front lines of this research. She’s never even interacted with a patient. She has no idea…”

Zhu Sui asked quietly, “No idea about what?”

Song Zhen’s gaze drifted, unfocused, toward the night sky beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. After a long pause, she finally said:

“She has no idea how heavy the real-world consequences of this serum are… No idea how much pain those Omegas and Betas go through when they miscarry because of pheromone instability…”

“Yes, powerful families need children. But some women—some just love children. And still, they lose them, again and again…”

“As mothers holding onto hope… the pain is unimaginable.”

“I’ve seen too many Betas and Omegas devastated by miscarriage…”

For a fleeting moment, Zhu Sui thought of her pale cousin, Zhu Yi.

And perhaps Song Zhen was thinking of all her patients too, because she fell silent.

She finished the remaining drinks quietly under Zhu Sui’s watchful eye.

When Zhu Sui saw she’d had enough—any more would push her over the edge—she guided Song Zhen out of the lounge. On the walk to the parking lot, Song Zhen abruptly picked up the thread again.

“If she can threaten me once, she can do it again. I can’t keep letting her control me.”

Zhu Sui sensed the tension rising again and asked cautiously, “So what will you do?”

For a moment, Song Zhen’s eyes were blank. Then she looked down.

Zhu Sui paused, realizing—Song Zhen was looking at her.

Song Zhen was studying her. Then murmured, “I differentiated into an Omega. An S-class… that’s rare.”

Zhu Sui’s brow furrowed. “What are you trying to say?”

Song Zhen, drunk and slightly hazy, looked at her and suddenly smiled.

It was a bitter smile, but behind it burned a kind of reckless clarity—so intense it made Zhu Sui’s nerves tighten instantly.

What came next wasn’t drunken nonsense, but cool, razor-sharp logic—each word measured and precise.

“I won’t drop the research. If she tries to pressure me, I’ll file for divorce. But I’ll continue the work. I’ll…”

“I’ll marry an Alpha from a research institute. Cheng Lang isn’t the only one who can influence the pheromone division. If I marry into an old family, their network’s deep—I can find a way.”

“I’m top-tier. I can probably handle having two children, I think.”

Zhu Sui was truly shocked. “You want to use marriage—”

“To solve the problem once and for all,” Song Zhen said coldly.

Zhu Sui looked at her in disbelief. “This research means that much to you…”

Song Zhen’s voice softened suddenly. “Do you remember when I first differentiated? When I begged you not to call anyone?”

Zhu Sui: “I remember. You even said—”

Song Zhen: “I said I still had dreams to chase.”

“Completing this research is my dream.” Song Zhen smiled, a look so tender that Zhu Sui had never seen it on her before. She continued slowly, “Love is gone. But I can’t lose everything. I’ve always treated this project as my life’s work. I… I need something I love to live in.”

Then, she suddenly wrapped her arms around herself, as if the early summer night were too cold. Her voice trembled.

“You can’t take the two most important things from my life at once. I couldn’t survive that.”

“Just give me one thing. Let me keep one.”

Zhu Sui was speechless. She stared at Song Zhen, and something clicked. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Song Zhen closed her eyes in pain. “After the divorce, I’ll have no background. S-class Omegas haven’t appeared in decades. If I’m going to be fought over, used anyway… then maybe I can trade it for something I need. That’s not wrong, is it?”

Zhu Sui’s emotions twisted into something complex. She slowly shook her head. “No.”

Song Zhen gave a wry smile. “I know her too well… I guess I should start thinking about candidates tomorrow.”

“You mean candidates to marry into a powerful family?”

Song Zhen’s gaze turned blank again. After a long silence, she nodded.

Zhu Sui didn’t speak either—for a long time. Then she exhaled deeply, relaxed the hand she had unconsciously clenched—and made a decision.

She said, “If that’s how it is—then marry me.”