Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 12

After watching the video, a cold sweat broke out over Cheng Lang’s entire body—not just her forehead, but down her spine as well.

It was early summer, yet she felt chilled to the bone.

She sat stiffly in her seat for a long time without moving.

“Dr. Cheng…?”

A colleague had just entered the lab. Seeing Cheng Lang’s pale face, she jumped. “Are you feeling okay?”

Cheng Lang didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “Has the project upgrade document arrived yet?”

“Oh, that? It came this morning—I posted it in the group chat. Want me to send you a separate copy?”

There was something dark and tense behind Cheng Lang’s eyes as she spoke, voice eerily calm. “Yes. Thank you.”

—

The next day, at 9 a.m., Jiangxia Road Civil Affairs Bureau.

Song Zhen sat inside, waiting. Right on time, Cheng Lang arrived.

Without a word, Song Zhen pulled out the divorce papers. Her face was expressionless.

“Go look over it on the side. If anything needs changing, tell me right away.”

They sat down together at one of the bureau’s desks. It was still early, not many people around. Cheng Lang read through the agreement line by line, her expression growing increasingly complicated.

The document divided their shared assets clearly—even minor details Cheng Lang had forgotten were meticulously listed.

So detailed…

“You were already planning to divorce me, weren’t you?” Cheng Lang asked in a low voice.

“Not for long,” Song Zhen said coolly. “It’s only been half a month since I caught you fooling around.”

Her words were blunt, leaving Cheng Lang no room to save face. Caught off guard, she was overwhelmed by the quiet confidence radiating from Song Zhen. It felt like it was suffocating her.

“Can’t we… talk?” Cheng Lang finally lowered her pride for one last plea.

Song Zhen simply looked at her, expressionless. The long silence made Cheng Lang uneasy before Song Zhen finally spoke:

“Talk about what? Negotiate terms?”

Cheng Lang opened her mouth to respond, but—

“I accept,” Song Zhen cut her off. “Say I agree to your terms. Say everything seems fine for now. But what happens after? When we’re divorced—are you really going to let me stay on the project?”

She was talking about the research.

Cheng Lang faltered.

Song Zhen said coldly, “We know each other too well. You won’t tolerate me, and I refuse to swallow this betrayal. If there’s no reconciliation, then we’ll settle things by capability.”

Cheng Lang frowned. “And what capability do you have?” After all, the decision-making power lay with her.

“No need to worry about that.” Song Zhen glanced down, then added, “If there’s no issue, sign the papers.”

Cheng Lang stared at her for a few seconds, teeth gritted. Then, her face like iron, she finally signed her name.

In less than twenty minutes, the clerk at the counter issued their divorce certificate.

Two years of marriage, six years of love—ended just like that.

When Song Zhen took the certificate, her hands trembled. The staff member gave her a concerned glance, but she only smiled, shook her head, and pulled her shawl tighter.

At the door, Song Zhen handed Cheng Lang a flash drive. Cheng Lang took it, but her face showed no relief—just hesitation.

Before she could speak, Song Zhen said in a low voice,

“We both know the Tong family has been trying to merge the Z-serum project into District Three for a long time.”

Cheng Lang’s brows drew together. Song Zhen leaned in, her voice rough and hoarse as she murmured right by her ear,

“Relax. I didn’t keep any copies. You’re afraid I’ll retaliate, and I’m afraid others will see you in bed with someone from the Tong family. When that happens, they’ll use it as grounds to investigate you for leaking classified data—and then the Tong family will take that opportunity to shut down the research and absorb it. I’m not going to let them succeed.”

She looked at Cheng Lang, eyes complicated.

“Professionally, I won’t hand over my work to the enemy. Personally, you’re now tied to the Z-serum. I won’t let the public associate your scandal with something I poured my soul into.”

“Feel better now?”

Song Zhen took a step back and said lightly,

“Now get lost.”

—

When Zhu Sui arrived, Song Zhen was sitting alone on a bench outside the civil bureau, wearing a long dress and a shawl. From a distance, she looked elegant—but up close, her pale face showed just how worn out she was.

Zhu Sui walked up. Song Zhen was trembling, using a tissue to scrub the red fingerprint ink from her thumb.

She was scrubbing too hard. Her skin was red and raw, the ink stubbornly lodged in the ridges of her fingerprint.

Zhu Sui saw it and immediately understood—it was from the divorce paperwork.

Noticing the shadow in front of her, Song Zhen looked up instinctively and locked eyes with Zhu Sui.

Their gaze met briefly before Song Zhen panicked and looked away, scrubbing harder.

“I—I’ll be done soon. Just give me a moment…”

“…Jiejie.”

Zhu Sui let out a soft sigh.

Song Zhen was about to keep scrubbing when suddenly her wrist was caught. She tried to resist, but she was no match for an Alpha’s strength—her hand was held firmly in place.

Zhu Sui crouched down in front of her, deliberately avoiding eye contact, knowing Song Zhen didn’t want to be seen in such a state.

Turning her palm over gently, Zhu Sui said,

“A dry tissue won’t work. Stop torturing yourself.”

The first part was matter-of-fact. The second—soft and layered.

Song Zhen froze. The next moment, her fingertips cooled as Zhu Sui, somehow, produced a wet wipe and carefully cleaned her finger. The ink dissolved with the solvent, and with just a few strokes, her thumb was clean again.

Looking up, Zhu Sui smiled.

“See? All it took was a wet wipe.”

Her smile was dazzling. Song Zhen felt like it burned.

“…Mm.” She nodded blankly.

Then suddenly remembering something, she fumbled for the divorce certificate.

“Well, it’s done. If you want to see—”

But before she could finish, Zhu Sui pressed her hand down.

“I don’t need to see it. I trust you.”

There was a short pause before Zhu Sui asked casually,

“It’s around breakfast time. Have you eaten?”

“Huh?” The question threw Song Zhen off completely.

But her reaction gave Zhu Sui all the answer she needed.

“Let’s get you something to eat first.”

And she did.

Over steaming soy milk and freshly made pastries, neither of them said much.

When Song Zhen’s stomach was full and her emotions had calmed, Zhu Sui had already paid the bill—and returned with two others.

“These are from the Omega Rights Association,” she explained. “You need to update your secondary gender anyway. We’ll do it together.”

—

Fifteen minutes later, the group moved from the dim sum shop to a nearby café.

By now, Song Zhen had no idea what Zhu Sui was trying to do.

The original plan was simple: divorce in the morning, marry Zhu Sui afterward.

But instead, Zhu Sui had brought the association reps, had Song Zhen tested, updated her Omega status, and then—dropped a bombshell.

She casually revealed that Song Zhen had been marked by her right after her differentiation.

Not only was Song Zhen stunned, even the association reps were speechless.

One of them cautiously asked, “So… are you planning to press charges?”

An Omega marked without consent could sue the Alpha. It could even lead to criminal sentencing.

Before Song Zhen could deny it, Zhu Sui replied,

“No. I’m here to file a petition.”

“…Excuse me?” The staff blinked in confusion.

“I’m not pressing charges. I’m petitioning for a marriage settlement.”

“I remember there’s a clause in national law,” she continued, “stating that if an Omega is marked right after differentiation, and if they’re willing, they can submit a petition to the state to force the Alpha to marry them, fulfilling marital obligations. Am I right?”

The staff scratched their head. “Technically… yes. But that clause is ancient—”

It was written back when medical tech was underdeveloped, when an Alpha could mark an Omega and leave them permanently tied with no way to remove the mark. That law was meant to protect Omegas, not enforce outdated rules.

Song Zhen was stunned too—until she looked at Zhu Sui, who gave her a small nod.

And suddenly, it clicked.

They would need ID cards, household registration, and military records to register a marriage. Song Zhen had worried that Zhu Sui’s family would never allow it—even if Zhu Sui promised. But if they filed under this clause…

Zhu Sui added,

“This type of petition is still technically a legal penalty. The victim can request privacy protection. The marriage will be state-enforced and not publicly disclosed.”

“…That’s true. But—”

“Then let’s proceed.”

For the first time, Song Zhen spoke up firmly.

“I’m petitioning for a marriage order.”

—

And so, Song Zhen’s second marriage began not with rings or vows—but with testimony, recorded statements, and signed documents.

It ended with her divorce certificate, issued just hours earlier, being exchanged for a fresh marriage certificate, hand-delivered by association staff.

When she received the new document, it all felt like a dream.

Even the association workers could barely say “Congratulations”—it stuck in their throats.

Only Zhu Sui was beaming as she flipped the certificate open, checking it happily.

Pulling Song Zhen out of the civil office, sunlight glittering like gold across the pavement, Zhu Sui suddenly turned and said cheerfully:

“Jiejie, move into my apartment, okay?”