Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 37.2

Her expression darkened slightly. Without another word, she reached down, unlocked the suitcase by her feet, and quickly dug through the side compartment. Before her father could react, she’d already found the medicine tucked inside—an extra bottle she didn’t recognize.

Caught red-handed, her father’s eyes darted nervously. “It’s nothing, really! Just… bl00d pressure’s been a little high. The doctor added another prescription to help bring it down!”

His voice trailed off.

“I didn’t want to worry you. The instructions are the same as always—exercise more, stay calm, no emotional stress… I’ve heard it all a thousand times.”

He grew quieter and quieter, clearly losing confidence.

Song Zhen pressed her lips together. After double-checking that it really was just bl00d pressure medication, she felt a little relieved. She put the bottle back, but her tone was serious.

“Even if it’s something small, you still should’ve told me.”

Her father tried to bluff.

“What’s the point in telling you? You’re not a doctor. I’m following the prescription properly—what more is there to say?”

He mumbled a few more complaints, but when he noticed the way Song Zhen was staring at him—arms crossed, eyebrows raised, that familiar I’m listening look—he swallowed the rest of his excuses. After all, he had been in the wrong.

On the drive to the hotel, Zhu Sui silently observed the father-daughter dynamic through the mirror. The way they shifted roles—from scolding to being scolded—was surprisingly natural and kind of heartwarming.

It was obvious the two of them had a close bond.

When they arrived, Zhu Sui helped check them in. She noticed the seniors had booked the cheapest option—no windows, no amenities—and promptly upgraded them to a suite at the front desk.

When they got to the room, Song’s father was amazed by the “unexpected” upgrade and kept praising the hotel for its generosity. Zhu Sui just smiled and played along, never mentioning the extra cost. She even chimed in with a glowing review of the hotel’s customer service.

Song Zhen watched her weave the story so seamlessly that she herself might’ve believed it—if she hadn’t seen Zhu Sui swipe her own card for the upgrade.

Just as they were about to leave, Cheng Lang’s mother did something unexpected—she called out to Zhu Sui.

Zhu Sui turned.

Since she had come to pick them up, Cheng Lang’s mother figured it was only appropriate to invite her to lunch the next day—it would be the Dragon Boat Festival, after all.

In her mind, since Cheng Lang’s superior had already gone out of her way to help, it made sense to host a meal and build good rapport. It would reflect well on Cheng Lang, too.

But she hadn’t discussed it with Cheng Lang. She simply took the initiative and said it out loud.

Cheng Lang and Song Zhen were both left speechless.

Zhu Sui raised a brow, showing no discomfort whatsoever. “Of course, no problem at all.”

She even thoughtfully added, “Since everyone knows each other… should Uncle Song join us too?”

“Yes, of course!” Cheng Lang’s mother agreed quickly, taking it upon herself to arrange everything.

Zhu Sui tilted her head and smiled so sweetly that Song Zhen’s head began to ache.

“Perfect!”

Cheng Lang’s expression also twisted in pain.

On the way home, Song Zhen still hadn’t figured out how to bring it up.

By the time they reached the underground garage, Zhu Sui finally gave in and said, “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

Song Zhen looked extremely conflicted.

“So… that dinner Cheng Lang’s mom invited you to… you’re… actually going?”

“Sure.”

Zhu Sui parked the car and, with a teasing tone that may or may not have been serious, added, “Weren’t you planning to tell your dad about your divorce from Cheng Lang today?”

Song Zhen hesitated, but didn’t deny it.

Zhu Sui, reading her like a book, said, “But then you saw your dad’s bl00d pressure meds… and started hesitating again, didn’t you?”

Song Zhen lowered her gaze and sighed softly.

Nothing escaped Zhu Sui.

She continued, “Since you didn’t tell them yet, even if I don’t go, you’ll still have to eat that meal with the four of you together. And with Dr. Cheng’s mother’s personality… wouldn’t that be even more awkward?”

Song Zhen: “…”

“But that’s not the main reason I agreed to go.”

Zhu Sui reached over and unbuckled Song Zhen’s seatbelt for her. As Song Zhen looked up, she saw that familiar sly grin on Zhu Sui’s face as she said softly—

“My main reason? I just don’t like outsiders pointing fingers at the people I care about.”

The moment those words—“the people I care about”—left her lips, Song Zhen’s face went pink.

When they got home, all thoughts of holiday cheer had completely vanished.

After finishing her shower, Zhu Sui considered whether Song Zhen might still be feeling burdened. Thinking it over, she decided to head to Song Zhen’s room to offer a few words of comfort.

Zhu Sui had already figured out what was troubling her. On the other hand, Song Zhen feared that revealing the truth too suddenly might overwhelm her father.

On the other, she worried that by staying silent, she might end up resenting herself—or resented by Zhu Sui.

Zhu Sui understood. But she didn’t have time to feel upset. The moment she saw Song Zhen’s conflicted expression, any flicker of emotion inside her quieted.

This marriage, at its core, had always been a transaction.

It wasn’t built on love. Zhu Sui knew that, and she never held Song Zhen to conventional standards.

Besides—her own family didn’t even know about it.

The secret marriage had been Song Zhen’s idea, but since neither side had made it public, Zhu Sui didn’t think she had the right to demand anything more.

Drying her damp hair with a towel, she walked to Song Zhen’s door. It wasn’t shut. When she stepped inside, she found an entirely unexpected scene.

Song Zhen was sitting upright on the small couch, practicing her confession aloud.

“Dad, I need to talk to you about something… Emmm, does that sound too formal?”

“Dad, actually… I’m already divorced from Cheng Lang… Is that too blunt?”

“Dad, I need to tell you something. Please, don’t get too worked up—it’s a matter between adults… Ugh, too long! The more I say, the worse it sounds…”

She was trying out different ways to break the news, muttering to herself like a child rehearsing lines—absolutely adorable.

After several failed attempts, Song Zhen let out a groan and tugged at her hair in frustration, slumping back against the sofa like her soul had left her body.

That’s when she saw Zhu Sui—upside down in her field of vision—leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and smiling. Who knows how long she’d been standing there?

Wait.

Zhu Sui?

ZHU SUI?!

Song Zhen scrambled to sit up properly, nearly sliding off the couch. Zhu Sui chuckled.

“Easy there, jie. I didn’t catch much.”

She paused, then admitted, “Just the last three lines. Missed the beginning.”

Song Zhen: “…”

Boom.

God. She’d only said three sentences!

Aaaah—so embarrassing! Utterly humiliating!

Song Zhen gave up and dropped a cushion over her face, cutting off all communication.

Zhu Sui walked closer and gently pulled the pillow away, still laughing.

Song Zhen, now resigned to spiritual death, calmly shut her eyes—burn some paper for me, I’m gone.

Leaning both hands on the back of the couch, Zhu Sui bent down, her voice still tinged with amusement but soft with sincerity.

“If you really don’t know how to say it… then maybe you don’t need to say it. Not for now.”

That woke Song Zhen up fast.

She sat up instantly. “You mean that?”

Zhu Sui nodded.

Song Zhen bit her lip, hesitating. “But… would that be unfair to you?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean… I’m not with Cheng Lang anymore, but I haven’t told anyone. Wouldn’t that make you feel… uncomfortable?”

“It does,” Zhu Sui said honestly. But before Song Zhen could look too disappointed, she added,

“But compared to that small discomfort, I’d say I have a pretty solid grasp of right and wrong. Your dad’s health clearly matters more than my mood.”

Song Zhen stared at her.

Zhu Sui didn’t look away. In fact, she met Song Zhen’s gaze and said slowly, solemnly:

“If you really don’t know how to tell him, and can’t predict how he’ll react… then I honestly think saying nothing is better than blurting it out.”

Song Zhen let out a long breath, shoulders slumping.

Whether it was relief or resignation, even she couldn’t say. After a pause, she murmured, “You’re always so… good.”

That made Zhu Sui laugh. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Song Zhen lifted her eyes briefly, then dropped them again. Her lashes fluttered like butterfly wings. “It’s not that you’re wrong…”

Her voice softened even further. “It just makes me feel like I’m the one who’s wrong.”

Despite being older, she relied on Zhu Sui in everyday life. And when it came to major decisions, she always ended up putting Zhu Sui second.

It made her feel useless—like she was constantly failing the person who mattered most.

Her voice was barely audible now. From this close, Zhu Sui caught the scent of the shampoo she’d left in the guest bathroom—a soft, fruity fragrance that suited Song Zhen perfectly.

Her silk nightgown clung lightly to her body. The smooth lines of her shoulder blades were visible, unmarred by any strap marks.

Zhu Sui’s gaze slipped lower.

Her collarbones stood out clearly against her pale skin, gentle dips forming an elegant curve beneath her neckline, disappearing into the fabric and outlining her delicately sculpted shoulders.

She took a slow step closer, then rested a hand on Song Zhen’s shoulder. Her palm was warm, and as she pressed down, she confirmed what she suspected—smooth skin beneath the fabric, no straps in the way.

Bending lower, Zhu Sui leaned in from behind the sofa, their faces now mere inches apart.

So close, she could see the tiny beauty mark near the corner of Song Zhen’s eye—easily missed if you weren’t this close.

And Song Zhen could see the unwavering resolve in Zhu Sui’s eyes.

“So, I’m not in the wrong?” Zhu Sui murmured, voice low and coaxing.

Song Zhen shook her head. “It’s me. I’m the one being unfair.”

“Then… are you feeling guilty?”

Zhu Sui leaned closer again. Her still-damp hair brushed against the curve of Song Zhen’s neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Song Zhen lowered her head further and gave the faintest reply.

Zhu Sui’s voice was even softer now:

“Actually… besides telling your dad, there might be another way to make me feel a bit better.”

Song Zhen looked up.

She met Zhu Sui’s long, smoldering gaze. Whatever clarity had been there earlier had now melted into something deep and unreadable—like pools of ink reflecting Song Zhen’s own face.

“You said it before, didn’t you?” Zhu Sui whispered. “That we should get to know each other better.”

Her lips parted, breath brushing against Song Zhen’s ear. “There’s no need to apologize. Honestly…”

Unseen, her fingers had slipped down to unfasten one button of Song Zhen’s collar.

“…maybe instead of feeling guilty…”

Her breath ghosted over Song Zhen’s skin.

“…you could try comforting me?”

The ends of her damp hair brushed against Song Zhen’s cheek. Song Zhen flinched from the cool touch.

“W-what do you…”

Warm breath, damp and teasing, slid into her ear like a secret.

“Just like you did last time… when you were the one asking me for something.”