Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 28.2

Song Zhen had no way to deal with her mother, and her mother had no way to handle Cheng Lang.

Eventually, Cheng Lang couldn’t take it anymore and ended the call. Her mother didn’t dare call back.

Lying on the couch with her fingers pressed to her temples, Cheng Lang only felt more suffocated than before.

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District Three, Adrenaline Institute.

“We’re sorry, the user you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable…” Tong Xianglu threw her phone in frustration. “See, sis? She won’t even answer my calls now. What’s the point of asking me to check in? I can’t even find her!”

Tong Yun was equally furious. “Then what do you suggest we do now? You swore up and down there wouldn’t be a problem. This is what you call no problem?!”

Shouted at using her full name, Tong Xianglu wilted. “I… I just wanted to make a name for myself. I didn’t expect this…”

“Enough! If this can’t be handled properly, prepare to end up like Zhuang Qing. You’ll never do research again, and you can forget about staying on this project!”

Tong Xianglu had been anxious for days. Now, hearing those words, she felt a cold dread creeping in. She bit her lip and said, “Then maybe we go with the plan I mentioned earlier. What if it works?”

“And what if it doesn’t? Look at this report. Who’s going to fix this? Do you think Cheng Lang’s girlfriend is some kind of divine savior, sent down to clean up your mess?”

“Well, if it fails… it still won’t be District Three’s fault…”

“I have an idea,” Tong Xianglu said in a low voice, biting her lip. “At this point, things can’t get any worse anyway…”

—

After her vacation, Cheng Lang returned to work.

By then, Song Zhen had already spent half a month in the Adrenaline Division and had adapted well.

That was just her nature—unfazed by location or timing. As long as she had research to do, she could focus and settle in quickly.

At lunch, the two ran into each other. Song Zhen gave a polite nod, said nothing more, and went off to the cafeteria with Zuo Tian and Zhu Sui.

That tiny gesture made Cheng Lang stand rooted in place for a long time before she came to her senses and let out a bitter smile.

Back at work that afternoon, she had just finished a report when she overheard a couple of team members chatting behind her.

“Another pregnant patient just arrived.”

“Isn’t that a daily thing now? What’s the big deal? Team Two’s basically full of saints. In just a few weeks, everyone in District One’s upper circles is calling Professor Song a miracle worker. Every case she handles goes perfectly…”

“Yeah, all thanks to saving Zhu Sui’s cousin. That family’s a big deal—not to mention, they’re connected to Director Rong… After word got out, even people without issues wanted a consult. With birth rates so low…”

The chatter grated on Cheng Lang’s nerves. She printed her report, put her pen down, and left.

Only then did the two researchers realize she’d been sitting behind them—and promptly fell silent.

Cheng Lang stood in the hallway for a while. Then, as if compelled by some invisible force, she drifted toward Team Two—not for any real reason, just… just to take a look. Just one look, and then she’d leave.

But that one glance would later become something Cheng Lang would recall for a long time with a quiet sense of relief—thank goodness she went.

Sitting on the long bench outside Team Two’s section, she saw two or three pregnant women scattered about. The last one was accompanied by a woman dressed in black. The woman’s belly was already prominent.

Cheng Lang gave her an extra glance—then paused, frowning.

Pheromone disorders usually peak in the first three months of pregnancy. Even at four months, they’re often hard to detect. But this woman… she looked like she was five months along?

She stepped closer. When she saw the woman’s face clearly, something stirred—familiarity.

But try as she might, she couldn’t recall where she’d seen her.

That was, until one of them spoke.

It wasn’t Mandarin, but English—with a crisp British accent.

Cheng Lang froze, rooted to the spot. A guess began to form in her mind, and cold sweat broke out across her forehead. This was… this was…

“Number 2, please come in~”

“Number 3, be ready—I’ll come register you shortly~”

Zuo Tian emerged from the consultation room, cheerful as ever.

Number 2 walked in. Number 3—exactly the heavily pregnant woman Cheng Lang had been watching—stood up. Zuo Tian headed back inside, closing the door behind her, grabbing a thermometer, digital tablet, and monitoring bracelet as usual, then turned to walk over.

She’d taken only two steps when someone stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

It was Cheng Lang, looking grim. “No. Don’t go over. She cannot be registered.”

Registering meant the patient’s data would be logged into the central database, effectively making her an official case under the Adrenaline Department’s care.

Zuo Tian frowned. “Dr. Cheng, I don’t think Team Two is under your jurisdiction…”

Irritated at the sight of Cheng Lang, she moved to step around her—but Cheng Lang grabbed her arm. “No. I said stop.”

She refused to let her pass.

Zuo Tian had been holding a grudge toward Cheng Lang for a while now. They were old classmates—everyone knew everyone. Now she angrily set down her tray and snapped at her.

But Cheng Lang was flustered and unsure. She couldn’t fully explain herself and stood there awkwardly, at a loss.

Click—the door opened.

“Tiantian, what’s going on?”

To everyone’s surprise, Song Zhen stepped out.

For a moment, Cheng Lang was stunned. Zuo Tian quickly explained everything that had just happened.

Song Zhen stepped forward, her expression polite but distant. “Dr. Cheng, all our patients are referred through the Military Medical University and follow proper protocol. How could we possibly refuse them treatment?”

Seeing her up close again after so long, watching her lips move, Cheng Lang was dazed.

When Cheng Lang didn’t respond, Song Zhen turned to Zuo Tian and said, “Tiantian, continue.”

The word continue snapped Cheng Lang out of her daze.

Suddenly, without thinking, she grabbed Song Zhen and leaned in close, whispering harshly into her ear.

Whatever she said made Song Zhen’s expression change instantly.

Zuo Tian, turning to grab her tools, missed the exchange and was just about to follow Song Zhen’s order and go register the patient—when a hand seized her wrist.

“Cheng Lang, what is your—” She turned to scold, but seeing it was Song Zhen, she faltered.

Song Zhen’s voice was shaky but firm. “Don’t go.”

She paused. “Put those things away. Go find Zhu Sui.”

“But the department head is—”

Song Zhen lowered her voice. “Go. This is urgent.”

Hearing the tension in Song Zhen’s voice and seeing her pale face, Zuo Tian finally realized the gravity of the situation and complied immediately.

Song Zhen stood still for a moment, then slowly walked over to the pregnant woman and her companion—who had been watching all along.

“Hello, may I ask the lady’s name?”

The woman in black answered sharply before the pregnant woman could speak: “Just scan the registration tablet. That’ll tell you everything.”

She held out the electronic pass issued by the Military Medical University, which contained all the pregnant woman’s data.

Song Zhen glanced at it but didn’t respond to the suggestion. She looked carefully at the woman and said, “She looks very unwell.”

The woman in black replied curtly, “Our madam has been unwell lately. What’s going on with your team? Didn’t you just say we’d be registered? What’s with all this delay? Can’t she at least lie down while we talk?”

Every sentence she spoke circled back to demanding registration.

Behind Song Zhen, Cheng Lang grew more and more certain.

Still not answering, Song Zhen continued, “She looks about five months along, yes?”

The pregnant woman seemed oblivious to the undercurrents. She blinked, then nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, I am.”

Even her smile was frail and pale—eerily similar to how Zhu Yi had looked when she was unwell.

Just a few words, and her Mandarin pronunciation was slightly off. Song Zhen took mental note and smiled gently in return.

The woman in black grew impatient. “What’s going on? Why won’t you respond? Are you Song Zhen?”

“I am.” Song Zhen finally replied.

“We heard you saved a patient with second-stage pheromone disorder,” the black-clad woman said, her tone accusatory. “We came specifically for you. Our madam is clearly unwell, and everyone says you’re a compassionate doctor—willing to risk yourself to save patients. So, what are you waiting for now?”

Song Zhen asked instead, “And why are you in such a hurry?”

The woman was momentarily stunned.

Song Zhen continued, “Five months in—this pregnancy should be stable by now. Our registration system is broken, and someone’s out getting a replacement. No matter how uncomfortable Madam is, surely a few

more minutes won’t hurt…”

She paused, then added, “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Brown?”

The black-clad woman’s expression instantly changed.

The pregnant woman, unaware of what had just transpired, nodded with a kind smile. “No rush at all.”

Then she turned and gently scolded the woman beside her. “Xiao Shu, what are you saying? Where are your manners? Didn’t we raise you better than that?”

Cheng Lang had attended many high-level events and met her share of important people. The woman had looked familiar, but she hadn’t been sure—until Song Zhen said that name.

She was right.

This wasn’t just any patient.

It was the wife of Jack Brown, the U.S. ambassador to China.

Though their features appeared Chinese, they held U.S. citizenship and had grown up overseas.

They spoke Mandarin, so it was easy to assume they were local.

And yet, if a pheromone disorder was still present at five months…

Cheng Lang and Song Zhen both immediately recalled Zhu Yi’s strange reaction. Which meant—

“Has Madam received treatment in Sector District before?” Song Zhen asked, still smiling.

The woman nodded, unguarded. “Yes. I don’t know why, but even at five months, I still don’t feel well…”

Cheng Lang’s fingers curled into a tight fist.

The woman in black paled. They know! she thought. They’ve figured it out!

Song Zhen also nodded slightly.

Her expression remained pleasant, but inside, her heart was sinking fast.

This… this was a mess.

If this had been a five-month pregnant woman with Chinese nationality who had visited District Three, Song Zhen could have admitted her without hesitation.

But this was different. This woman had diplomatic status. Which meant—if anything went wrong—all those signed consent forms and liability waivers wouldn’t matter.

It would escalate to a national level.

And if both mother and child died…

Song Zhen herself didn’t matter. But Zuo Tian, Chen Ye, Cao Fan, even Zhu Sui… the Adrenaline Department, and the entire Institute in District One… they would all be implicated.

This wasn’t just a patient. This could become an international incident.

She couldn’t afford to be selfish.

She could take risks for herself—but not with everyone else’s future.

Seeing that her cover was blown, the woman in black dropped the act. Her frustration spilled out, her English-accented Mandarin slipping through. “So much for your reputation as a kindhearted doctor…”

Song Zhen didn’t flinch.

She looked the pregnant woman in the eye and said gently, “There’s an old saying in our country: ‘Return good for evil.’”

The woman blinked, confused.

As a pregnant woman, Song Zhen could see it—her family was clearly hiding something from her to spare her worry.

The black-clad woman opened her mouth to protest, but Song Zhen cut her off.

“But if you return good for evil,” she asked softly, “what do you return for good?”