Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 38

Last time.

Yes, the last time Zhu Sui spoke in that voice…

A light chill brushed her shoulder—Zhu Sui’s fingers kneading gently through the fabric of Song Zhen’s shirt.

Song Zhen’s ears burned.

The last time she asked Zhu Sui like that… that was during her heat.

“I… I…”

Zhu Sui raised an eyebrow.

Song Zhen mumbled for a while, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sober now.”

Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

They were so close, practically cheek to cheek. From this distance, Zhu Sui could see it clearly—those round almond eyes, brimming with mist, like ripples breaking across still water or stars scattered into her irises.

The way she frowned with helplessness gave them a luminous brilliance—like two rare, dazzling gems.

It made one want to look closer.

Made one want to have them.

Zhu Sui leaned in and pressed a kiss against the shell of her ear. Light. Barely there. Almost devoid of desire.

And yet, Song Zhen still shuddered like she’d been startled. When Zhu Sui pulled back, she found those almond eyes once again glistening—tears clinging to the edges, threatening to spill.

Zhu Sui lowered her gaze with a quiet smile. Her long lashes fluttered down like tiny fans brushing over Song Zhen’s heart, ticklish and tender.

“Jie,” she said slowly, “why are you always so shy?”

The tone was hard to pin down—half teasing, half sigh.

But Song Zhen’s neck flushed red from that small bit of contact.

There had only been moonlight last time. She hadn’t been wearing anything. She still remembered Zhu Sui holding her waist, pressing her down, murmuring in awe about how slim she was…

If she wanted her again now… she… she couldn’t.

She couldn’t…

The more she shrank inward, the more pitiful she looked—and the more irresistible she became.

Zhu Sui’s gaze flicked up. Their eyes met again. She said nothing, but Song Zhen looked like she might burst into tears at any moment.

Zhu Sui shifted slightly, her nose lightly grazing Song Zhen’s chin. If she tilted her head just a little, she could kiss her pale neck from below—an upward gaze that gave Song Zhen the vantage point, the power.

That one subtle shift dissolved Zhu Sui’s usual dominance. Song Zhen no longer felt suffocated by her presence.

And with her face turned upward, the light washed over Zhu Sui’s features. Her eyes, no longer shadowed, revealed a warm amber hue—like translucent honey-gold set into her delicate face.

Song Zhen stared, dazed.

Zhu Sui didn’t blink, just looked at her with unwavering focus. Her eyes were full—earnest, intense.

“What are you trembling for? Are you scared?”

“Then how about… I don’t move. You come to me. Would that be okay?”

“Use your Omega instincts… to please me, hmm?”

Her tone curled upward, flirtatious.

Song Zhen blinked, flustered. “How…”

Zhu Sui narrowed her eyes, a rare note of urgency flashing through her expression.

“Do lovers really need a how-to guide for pleasing each other?”

Then she paused—and deliberately teased,

“Jie~”

Her slender fingers traced up Song Zhen’s neck, suggestive in every motion, unmistakable in intent.

“I want to smell your scent. Can you release your pheromones? Or do you need me to teach you that too?”

Song Zhen’s face flamed at the serious tone hiding beneath Zhu Sui’s innuendo. She shook her head, and within moments, Zhu Sui caught a whiff of citrus—sweet, fresh, and mouthwatering. It made her bite back a groan.

“I still can’t control it very well. Don’t mind it,” Song Zhen whispered—just-differentiated, her Omega nature soft and unsteady.

Soft and pliable, Zhu Sui’s fingers almost wanted to press harder, just to coax out a different, sweeter kind of sound from that fragile throat.

But she held back. The message was clear enough.

She simply looked at Song Zhen, patient, not rushing—not forcing—letting her read every subtle flicker of emotion on her face.

Letting her decide what her version of “pleasing” might mean.

Soon, Zhu Sui watched Song Zhen slowly lean in. Her lips parted slightly, a glisten of moisture inside. Her tongue hovered between her upper and lower teeth, as if ready to flick out—caught, almost, on a bite.

Red and white played together in her mouth.

Zhu Sui couldn’t look away.

As the gap between them vanished, Song Zhen’s lips trembled, delicate and jelly-soft. She pressed them to Zhu Sui’s.

Zhu Sui exhaled softly, like her heart had finally been satisfied.

Her long lashes dipped low, and she relaxed, parting her lips to give Song Zhen full control.

But maybe Song Zhen was too nervous—too inexperienced. Her hands clutched Zhu Sui’s shoulders too tightly. Zhu Sui, who had been leaning in, gave in to the pressure and let herself fall back, allowing Song Zhen to push her into the cushions—

—amid soft rustling, their kisses deepened.

Song Zhen’s breath grew erratic. Zhu Sui’s, lower, heavier.

Somehow, they had switched positions. Song Zhen now lay beneath, buried in the sofa. Zhu Sui leaned over her, kissing her down.

What began as Song Zhen’s kiss had, in the end, been surrendered to Zhu Sui.

And Song Zhen, flushed and dazed, could only surrender—completely.

Zhu Sui’s hot breath brushed her cheeks. Her damp hair swept intermittently across Song Zhen’s bare skin.

Cool against heat.

Two extreme sensations weaving, pulling her between fire and ice.

The kiss lasted a long time. Their pheromones intertwined, light and heady, flooding Song Zhen with an airy euphoria—

Just like that unspoken night…

…

Zhu Sui didn’t go too far tonight.

Their deep kiss ended with another temporary mark.

But this time, coaxed gently by Zhu Sui, Song Zhen also bit Zhu Sui’s gland.

The pheromone bloomed between their lips—cool, tinged with subtle sweetness.

It let Song Zhen experience, more fully, the wonder of being an Alpha-Omega pair…

…

Song Zhen ended up sleeping in the master bedroom.

After that kiss—maybe because she had just recently differentiated—once she started releasing her pheromones, she couldn’t stop.

Zhu Sui, worried that she’d never consciously released them before and had been suppressing her gland too long, didn’t force her to hold it in.

She sealed the doors, switched on the ventilation, and held her in her arms.

Despite her exhaustion, Song Zhen’s thoughts refused to settle.

She knew the problem still came back to her father.

Zhu Sui was generous—so generous.

But Song Zhen didn’t want to take advantage of that kindness, not like this.

She’d already asked for too much.

And to some extent, she wanted to give Zhu Sui the respect she deserved.

She was… such a good person.

The kind of person who would still hold her close, and soothe her to sleep…

At that moment, the inner scales that had been locked in indecision finally began to tip. And just a few heartbeats later, her tangled thoughts settled on a clear resolution—

She had decided to tell her father.

What had held her back before was the fear that, with Cheng’s mother present, things would spiral out of control. Her father might be too agitated to handle the truth.

But now that her mind was made up, Song Zhen resolved to speak with her father alone after the family gathering—separate from Cheng’s mother, just the two of them.

Divorce was no small matter. She’d come prepared with medicine—or perhaps, she thought wryly, it might be best to give her father some before she even spoke.

Strangely enough, the moment the decision was made, all the anxiety seemed to vanish.

Cradled in Zhu Sui’s arms, her back gently stroked, wrapped in the Alpha’s soothing pheromones, Song Zhen quickly drifted off to sleep.

She slept until bright daylight flooded the room, waking with a soft breath surrounded by the cool, dreamy scent of mint—

Zhu Sui’s scent.

Song Zhen checked the time—it was nearly noon. She had slept deeply.

But no one was beside her.

When she stepped out of the master bedroom, the housekeeper looked up and greeted her, “Happy Dragon Boat Festival, Miss Song. Miss Zhu left you a message—she said she was heading home for a bit, so no need to wait for her for lunch…”

The housekeeper smiled. “The dishes are almost ready. If you’re hungry, I can steam you an egg custard. If not, you can wait a bit for lunch.”

Song Zhen ran a hand through her hair, grabbed her phone, and saw a message from Zhu Sui:

[Cousin Yi’s wrapping zongzi and asked me to pick some up. You rest well, Jie. I’ll be back soon.]

Song Zhen sniffled and typed back: [Okay.]

Then she turned to the housekeeper with a smile, “Happy Dragon Boat Festival. No need to fuss, I’ll wait for lunch.”

—

When someone knocked on the hotel door, Song Zhen’s father assumed it was her. Strange.

He knew the kids had all been exhausted lately, and their dinner gathering wasn’t until later tonight—what was she doing here at this hour?

He opened the door, only to find not his daughter, but a smiling Zhu Sui standing outside.

After a brief greeting, she handed him a neatly tied bag. Inside was a row of freshly made zongzi—homemade, not store-bought, wrapped in clean, fragrant lotus leaves.

“Uncle Song, these are from my family. I just picked them up this morning. Since I was driving past your hotel, I thought I’d bring some over. We had a nice chat yesterday, and I figured you might enjoy these. You can even take them back to Jiangcheng as a local specialty.”

“Oh, this is too much trouble…”

“It’s really no trouble at all,” Zhu Sui replied warmly. “They’re not fancy or expensive, not in gift boxes or anything—just some home food. I hope you don’t mind.”

The way she phrased it made Song’s father pause mid-gesture, just as he was about to return the bag.

It really wasn’t about money—it was the thought that counted.

Bringing them over specially like this… to refuse would be like dismissing someone’s sincerity.

Zhu Sui had impeccable timing and tact. A formal gift would’ve felt like a bribe; this felt casual, genuine, and thoughtful—hard to turn down.

And besides, Song’s father had lived alone for years. It wasn’t like he made his own zongzi.

He’d been a teacher most of his life—who had the time or patience to make them from scratch?

So, in the end, he accepted the bag. Checking the time, he asked, “Have you eaten yet, Chief Zhu? You really didn’t have to come all this way… Why don’t I treat you to lunch?”

Zhu Sui smiled and, of course, didn’t decline. “I’d love that!”

—

After lunch, Cheng’s mother returned to the hotel. She was already mentally planning which tourist attractions in the capital she might visit that afternoon. But then she remembered—maybe she should first consult with Song’s father about where to host a meal for Song Zhen and Cheng Lang’s boss. What kind of restaurant? Should it be Chinese or Western? If it were hotpot, would it seem too informal?

She hadn’t made up her mind when a car by the curb caught her eye—it looked familiar. Wasn’t that Zhu Sui’s?

She shook her head, laughing at herself. “Don’t overthink it,” she muttered. “Yesterday’s drop-off was just a coincidence. No way she’s here again today. She’s on holiday too, isn’t she?”

But even before she’d finished the thought, she caught a glimpse of Song’s father stepping out of the hotel—with Zhu Sui.

They were talking, laughing.

Cheng’s mother froze.

Before she could pull herself together to go say hello, they had already gotten into the car. It pulled away as she ran after it, leaving her choking on exhaust fumes and thumping her chest in frustration.

Only then did she realize—was Zhu Sui only looking for Song’s father?

Had she missed the visit entirely?

Cheng’s mother instantly regretted eating lunch so early.

If she hadn’t, maybe Zhu Sui would’ve knocked on her door first.

She had missed a prime networking opportunity—and gotten a face full of car smoke instead.

She turned and walked back into the hotel, scowling.

—

Song Zhen had told Zhu Sui all about her father’s food preferences.

With that in mind, Zhu Sui had chosen a private kitchen—an exclusive place where even paying customers couldn’t get a table without membership. The food wasn’t flashy, but it was authentic. Members didn’t pay on-site—everything was billed to their accounts.

Song’s father ate two bowls of rice.

Zhu Sui, watching him enjoy the meal, was satisfied. Before leaving, she even topped up the account with extra credit.

Though Song’s father had meant to treat, he ended up letting Zhu Sui pay—and felt terribly embarrassed about it.

But Zhu Sui chatted with him so naturally, so warmly, putting all the blame on herself for the misunderstanding. She joked they’d take turns, and that he could host next time. “There’s no rush.”

She had a way with people—and by the end of the meal, Song’s father was thoroughly charmed.

He praised her generously, saying, “Young people like you are rare—really outstanding.”

Even Zhu Sui, thick-skinned as she usually was, flushed with pleasure at the compliment.

She lowered her head modestly. “Oh no, not at all. My older siblings are way more accomplished than I am…”

“Nonsense!” he said, “Suisui, you’re the second-youngest lieutenant colonel I’ve ever met. The first one I knew was decades ago during peacetime—and he was a civilian officer who started as a major. You, on the other hand, worked your way up from second lieutenant. Your military rank holds real weight.”

Yes. By now, Song’s father was affectionately calling her by her nickname.

When she looked skeptical, he even started explaining in detail to prove he wasn’t exaggerating.

Zhu Sui felt like she was floating.

Dad’s got great taste, she thought privately—though outwardly, she only smiled sheepishly.

Song’s father continued, “I’m not joking, you know. I’m completely serious. You’re only the second lieutenant colonel I’ve met at your age. Don’t assume I haven’t seen the world—back in my day, I—”

“Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that!” she laughed, scratching her head.

She’d been complimented plenty in her career, but coming from someone like Song Zhen’s father—a man so sincere, so straightforward—the praise struck a different chord.

Especially since he was Song Zhen’s father.

There was just something indescribably sweet about that.

Something that made her feel warm and energized.

Song’s father noticed her radiant smile and asked suspiciously, “Really?”

Zhu Sui beamed. “Of course! I believe you. I know you meant every word. I’d never doubt you, haha—Dad.”

Song’s father nodded—

—but after a few steps, something clicked. He turned back, squinting, “Wait a second… What did you just call me?”

Zhu Sui replayed her words in her head—and her smile froze.

Oh no.

She’d been so happy, she’d let her heart slip out of her mouth—

And called him Dad.