Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 39.1

If it had been Song Zhen in this situation, she probably would’ve frozen and said nothing.

If it had been Rong Qingshan, he might have deflected with awkward laughter, trying to distract Song’s father with a joke.

But this was Zhu Sui! With her mental fortitude?

Even with a heart full of desolation, she didn’t miss a beat. “Hahaha, Uncle, what did you say?”

A single question deflected the pressure, bought her time to recover, and even shifted the suspicion—making her sound perfectly confident while planting a seed of doubt in Song’s father’s mind instead.

Song’s father hesitated. “Just now, what did you call me again?”

“Which part, Uncle Song?”

Seeing no change in Zhu Sui’s expression, Song’s father began to doubt himself. Had he really misheard someone calling him Dad? That was a bit ridiculous, wasn’t it? Sure, older people were said to have bad hearing—but he hadn’t even hit sixty!

He hesitated even longer. Under Zhu Sui’s bright and earnest gaze, he grew a little embarrassed. “It was when you said you believed me… Maybe I’m just getting old. My hearing hasn’t been great lately…”

Zhu Sui followed his tone with a light laugh. “Oh, that? I called you Song Zhen’s dad, of course. Why, was that not right? I just meant that since Ms. Song is such a sincere person, I figured that must come from you.

So I said it naturally.”

Did she really? He suddenly couldn’t be sure if he’d heard the “Song Zhen’s” part at the beginning or not. She had been laughing—maybe she’d just said it too softly? Or maybe… he really was going a bit hard of hearing…

And so, in the end, this close call passed without incident. Song’s father turned away, his mind now more occupied by the thought that maybe his hearing was starting to go. Meanwhile, Zhu Sui quietly let out a breath and wiped an imaginary sweat from her forehead.

Thank goodness. Thank goodness.

Luckily, she had thick skin and kept her composure under pressure.

Anyone else would’ve been dead in the water.

After taking a few more steps, she reset her mental state and smoothly shifted the topic. Before long, the two were chatting again like old friends. When she learned that Song’s father liked high-tech exhibitions, she mentioned a new science museum that had opened last year in the capital’s development zone. It had excellent reviews, and she insisted on taking him there.

It was exactly his kind of thing. The conversation flowed so well that Song’s father, after a half-hearted protest or two, happily accepted the offer.

He completely forgot that the original plan was his treat—not for Zhu Sui to act as his personal tour guide in the capital.

Song Zhen only found out they’d gone to the museum in the afternoon, when Zhu Sui gave her a quick call.

“Oh, my dad really does enjoy that kind of thing,” Song Zhen said, a bit hesitantly. “But… are you sure it’s not too much trouble for you?”

“Not at all. We’re getting along great. Your dad’s a really nice person…”

Zhu Sui gave her a brief rundown of what happened—and Song Zhen found out about the zongzi delivery, the lunch outing, and now the museum visit. Zhu Sui was practically acting as her father’s tour guide now.

The more she thought about it, the more Song Zhen felt that as his daughter, she should be the one accompanying him. It didn’t sit right that Zhu Sui was doing it all. Even though they were technically married, she still didn’t feel she had the right to ask Zhu Sui for that kind of help.

After tidying herself up, she changed into a pretty dress and called Zhu Sui again to ask where they were—she was going to meet them.

“I’ll come join you. Besides, didn’t Cheng Lang’s mom say she was treating us to dinner? We can all head over together later.”

She paused and then added, “I think the hotel reservation’s only for two nights, right? I’ve decided—I’m going to take Dad with me tonight. I’ve thought it through… I’ll tell him.”

Song Zhen lowered her gaze, her smile tinged with resignation. “Something this big… it’s not like we can hide it. Might as well say it early. It’ll be easier on everyone.”

Zhu Sui was a little surprised but nodded after a moment. “Don’t force yourself if you’re not ready. But if you are, then talk to him honestly. After all… the core of this issue wasn’t even your fault.”

“Mhm. Got it.”

“I’ll send you the location. You’ve been exhausted lately—just take a cab. Don’t worry about driving.”

“Okay.” Song Zhen’s voice was soft and calm, touched with quiet warmth.

Just as she set her phone down, it rang again. Thinking it might be Zhu Sui calling back, she picked it up—only to see it was Cheng’s mother. After a moment’s hesitation, she silenced the call.

Two more calls came in. She muted both. Finally, silence.

Song Zhen guessed that Cheng’s mother wanted to find Cheng Lang. She’d often done this in the past—if she couldn’t reach her child directly, she’d call Song Zhen instead, knowing she’d reply out of courtesy, then use her to pass messages along.

But that was then. Their relationship had changed. Song Zhen didn’t feel the need to put herself out there anymore.

Soon after, the phone rang again—this time from Cheng Lang.

She answered, expecting it to be about dinner plans.

Sure enough, Cheng Lang asked where they were eating. Song Zhen thought for a moment and said, “Hotpot.”

Cheng Lang paused. “Wouldn’t that be… a bit too casual?”

Song Zhen, applying her eyebrow pencil in front of the mirror, replied firmly, “Nope. That’s what she wants to eat.”

A few days ago, they’d all been exhausted, and Zhu Sui had suddenly said she was craving hotpot. But with Mrs. Brown around, they couldn’t go out. So, they made a pact to go on Dragon Boat Festival instead.

Now that Cheng Lang asked, Song Zhen simply repeated that plan.

Her tone was too certain—too intimate. It left Cheng Lang momentarily speechless.

“…Anything else? I’m a bit busy. If not, I’ll hang up—”

“Wait.” Cheng Lang finally got to the point. “It’s the first time our parents are visiting the capital since we started working. I want to take them out sightseeing tomorrow. I was wondering if you…”

The implication was clear: since their parents didn’t know about the divorce, Song Zhen should come along and maintain appearances.

“I’ll think about it.”

Song Zhen’s answer was cool. But she was always a filial daughter—her response didn’t matter much. As long as she knew about it, Cheng Lang figured she’d probably show up.

Still, she could tell Song Zhen didn’t want to talk. So she swallowed her mother’s earlier complaints about Song Zhen ignoring her calls and simply said, “I’ll send you the time and location later, then?”

“Mhm.”

Before she could say more, Song Zhen hung up.

Cheng Lang hadn’t expected her to be so decisive. She called again.

But Song Zhen was in the middle of applying lip gloss and didn’t pick up. By the time she finished getting ready, there was only a missed call on the screen—no follow-up messages. Guessing it wasn’t important, she didn’t bother to reply. She slung a chain purse over her shoulder, slipped into flats, and left.
—

When Zhu Sui saw Song Zhen at the museum again, something felt different.

She wore light makeup that gave her complexion a healthy glow. Not too assertive—paired with a soft blush-pink dress that showed off her long, slender legs, her entire appearance highlighted a gentle elegance she didn’t usually display.

She looked sweet. Innocent.

Zhu Sui’s gaze darkened slightly.

“Dad. Zhu Sui.” Song Zhen called out as she approached.

Song’s father was still engrossed in a robotic exhibit. Without even turning his head, he nodded toward the air, “Mm, you’re here.”

Song Zhen sighed. Zhu Sui chuckled.

The museum was large, and since she had arrived late, they were already on the fourth floor out of six. Only two more to go.

“Dad, you’re making her go through all this trouble. If you wanted to go out, you could’ve just told me,” Song Zhen said while walking beside him.

“Was it trouble? Maybe… I suppose… But it just happened! We were only going to grab lunch, and, well… Suisui and I were having such a good time talking, weren’t we?”

Sure enough—he was calling her Suisui now. Clearly, they’d had a very good time.

“I was just listening to Uncle talk about his early research days. It was so interesting—I had no idea the conditions were that tough back then. I was hooked! Just wanted to hear more,” Zhu Sui said easily. “Besides, Ms. Song, you arrived at the perfect time—the gift shop is at the top floor. Uncle’s already got his eye on a few models.”

That made Song’s father a little bashful. He waved his hand. “It’s not like I have to buy them. I mean, I could buy them myself. No need for Zhenzhen to pay…”

But even he didn’t quite believe his own words. He couldn’t meet Song Zhen’s gaze.

She nearly burst out laughing. Her father, with how frugal he was—if she left it to him, he’d just go home empty-handed. Maybe he’d buy a tea strainer and call it a day.

She didn’t argue. “Then when we go up, help me pick two models, okay, Dad? I’ll buy them for the house.”

“Sounds good!”

Song Zhen planned to tell him later that there was no space at her place to store them—he could take them home instead. That way, he wouldn’t feel bad about her spending money, and he’d still get the things he liked.

The rest of the visit was smooth. Her father was fully engaged, explaining circuit loops and core structures as they walked. Song Zhen didn’t understand much—she was in pharmaceuticals. But to her surprise, Zhu

Sui could keep up. Often, when her father brought up a topic, the two of them would dive deep into everything from chip models to cutting-edge weapon applications.

As Song Zhen listened in, she gradually realized: these two actually had a lot in common.

It struck her as strange at first—then made sense. Zhu Sui’s father, Vice Dean Zhu, worked in military weapons development at the research institute. With that kind of background, it would’ve been odd if she didn’t understand.

At the checkout counter, Song’s father chose two heavy, well-crafted models. Song Zhen pulled out her card, but before she could even offer, Zhu Sui—ever the Alpha—grabbed the models with one hand, her card with the other, and went to line up to pay.

Song Zhen bought three bottles of water and sat with her father while they waited.

Only then, left alone, did her father remember the thing he hadn’t yet said.

His expression darkened slightly.

He asked sharply, “Your colleagues don’t even know about you and Cheng Lang? She’s back in the country and still hasn’t said anything?”

Song Zhen froze, her gaze drifting. She forced a laugh. “Didn’t we say we’d have a make-up wedding ceremony? We’ll tell everyone then… same difference.”

She quickly added, “And the lab’s been busy lately—who has time for personal stuff? Those who know, know. We can’t exactly make an announcement to everyone. That’d be weird.”

“You’re afraid Cheng Lang’s hiding it on purpose? She—”

Song’s father, usually quick to offer praise, actually faltered this time. Song Zhen’s eyes flickered with discomfort—saying more felt wrong, but saying nothing was just as hard.

He didn’t notice her unease and simply carried on, “Well… I’ve watched her grow up. She’s always been well-behaved and capable. Most importantly, she’s always treated you well. That’s never been in question.”