Marked by My Scummy Ex-Wife’s Boss (GL) - Chapter 9
When Zhu Sui left her unit, she was carrying a file folder.
She thought about the special instructions Captain You had given her. It was almost laughable. She shook her head while chuckling—who would’ve thought she’d one day understand what it felt like to act like a spoiled heir.
She hadn’t walked far when her phone rang again, as if they still weren’t reassured.
“Captain You, did you forget to mention something?” Zhu Sui asked knowingly.
The superior didn’t exchange pleasantries. He just reiterated, “Think carefully about this assignment. If you really don’t want to go, it’s fine. Just don’t bring personal feelings into it…”
“What, I can really just say no?”
“Of course. Technically, you’re the most suitable person in our division. You’ve even been awarded First-Class Merit. If you complete this mission, we can fast-track your promotion…”
Zhu Sui replied lazily, “Honestly, I’m not in a rush to get promoted. I’m only 22. Still young, you know. But, Captain You, can we negotiate a bit? Every time I get a commendation, all I get is a promotion. I’m running out of ranks to climb. Could I get a raise next time instead?”
There was a long silence on the other end before he retorted, “You’re not in a rush for promotions, but you want a raise? Come on, Miss Zhu—do you really need the money?”
“I mean… no, not really,” Zhu Sui admitted. “But after so many promotions, I haven’t seen you give me that ‘fast-track advancement’ you keep talking about!”
“…”
Well, that was enough. Clearly, she was harboring some resentment.
Her superior knew better than to push too hard. He just reminded her to think it through carefully.
After all, Zhu Sui had been mentored by Captain You himself. He knew her well and wasn’t too worried.
Zhu Sui also knew that Captain You was betting on her sense of duty. Feeling irritated, she ran a hand through her hair and hung up.
Thinking about her next destination—the Military Medical Academy—she felt her mood lift a little. She pushed the messy work stuff to the back of her mind.
After registering her vehicle at the gate and entering the campus, she noticed a message from Song Zhen on WeChat. Slightly surprised, she parked and, by coincidence, bumped into Song Zhen’s colleague, Zuo Tian, whom she’d met once before when dropping Song Zhen off. Zhu Sui raised a hand in greeting, and Zuo Tian instantly smiled in recognition.
Song Zhen and Cheng Lang’s apartment was located just behind the Military Medical Academy. It had been a practical choice at the time, close to work. But now, it had become a burden for Song Zhen—one that forced her to face Cheng Lang again.
Few people knew about her marriage to Cheng Lang. They’d never held a wedding. The overseas assignment came too suddenly, and before leaving, Cheng Lang had registered their marriage to give her peace of mind. They had a marriage certificate, but at the time, their relationship was no different from that of a dating couple.
Then Cheng Lang left for two years. And when she returned, her actions made one thing painfully clear: a marriage certificate meant absolutely nothing.
Due to her recent secondary gender differentiation, even with a temporary mark in place, Song Zhen didn’t dare be alone with Cheng Lang in their cramped apartment. After some thought, she suggested meeting at a nearby café instead.
Before leaving, she printed a fresh copy of the divorce agreement—just in case.
When they sat down, the server had just placed the coffee on the table when Song Zhen slid the document, clearly labeled “Divorce Agreement”, to the center. Her expression was calm and decisive—showing not even a hint of sadness about the impending split.
Whoa, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the server judged silently as they walked away.
Once they were alone, Cheng Lang stared at the document—one she had deliberately ignored when she found it in the apartment. She gave a bitter smile. “Do we really have to do this? I haven’t even said anything yet.”
Song Zhen lowered her eyes. Her hand trembled slightly as she stirred her coffee, but she remained composed.
She spoke in an orderly, graceful manner. “There’s nothing left to say. We were together because we liked each other. Now that… that feeling is gone, there’s no need for us to make it hard on one another.”
Once again, Cheng Lang was stunned by how rational Song Zhen could be. “But you haven’t even asked me a single question.”
What kind of married couple divorces like this? It wasn’t right—wasn’t natural.
For a moment, Cheng Lang even wondered if everything had been one-sided from the beginning. Maybe Song Zhen never truly cared. Maybe this was why she could let go so cleanly.
As if she were simply… discarding a burden.
“I’ve already seen everything I needed to see with my own eyes,” Song Zhen said, meeting her gaze without flinching. “What more do I need to ask?”
Were it not for the faint paleness on her face, she might’ve looked completely heartless.
Cheng Lang was at a loss for words.
Misinterpreting the silence, Song Zhen continued, “What do you think I should ask? Why did you cheat? Why didn’t you keep your promises? Or should I go for some melodramatic TV drama line and ask if you love me or her?”
Cheng Lang said nothing.
Song Zhen gave a bitter laugh. Her spoon slipped from her fingers, her hand trembling uncontrollably. She clenched her fist and calmly placed it beneath the table to hide it.
She fought hard to control her emotions.
“What’s done is done. Words don’t matter. Actions show a person’s true heart, don’t they?”
“That day… you didn’t even chase after me, Cheng Lang. I never asked you anything, true—but you’ve answered me more than once with your actions. As for the pain you want me to show you…”
“That’s mine to process. It’s not something I need to put on display just to make both of us miserable.”
Even as her emotions crested, Song Zhen crushed them down with sheer will.
She reached forward and pushed the divorce agreement back toward Cheng Lang. Her voice, mechanical, almost detached, said, “The division of assets and transfer of property are all detailed inside. It’s fair. I don’t think you’ll have objections, but it’s best if—”
“I don’t want a divorce. Not yet.”
Cheng Lang had planned to appeal to emotion, but Song Zhen’s logical, level-headed approach had thrown her off completely.
Song Zhen paused and caught the word “yet.” A nameless disappointment bloomed inside her.
She said bluntly, “That might not be up to you. I—”
Before she could finish, Cheng Lang cut her off, suddenly laying her cards on the table. “You’ve always been just as passionate about the Z-serum project as I am. Your contributions weren’t any less than mine.”
“Also, you should know—the head of the glandular research department was reassigned around the time I returned.”
The two statements seemed unrelated, but Song Zhen’s heart skipped a beat.
She held her breath. “What are you trying to say?”
Cheng Lang took a deep breath. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But you won’t even give me a chance to speak…”
“If you don’t love me anymore, fine. But what about the research? Years of effort—are you really ready to throw that away?”
“What do you mean?” Song Zhen’s voice rose with panic.
Cheng Lang confirmed her worst fears. “All I’m asking is to delay the divorce for a few months. If you insist on ending it now—you know the Military Medical Academy’s lab is only an affiliate of the National Institute of Medical Science…”
“When I become the official department head, I’ll have the authority to dissolve those affiliate labs.”
“You’re not in the military. If you’re no longer my spouse, you’ll lose your status as a military family member. If the lab is dissolved, you won’t have access to the core research again.”
“You don’t care about me—that’s fine. But can you really abandon everything we’ve built together?”
Crash—
Song Zhen accidentally knocked over her coffee cup.
Strike where it hurts most. After six years together—and having grown up as childhood friends—Song Zhen knew Cheng Lang’s habits. But Cheng Lang also knew her soft spots.
Once, those were love and research.
Now, with love gone, all that remained… was the research.
“You’ve gone too far!” Song Zhen trembled with rage.
Cheng Lang turned her face away, guilt flashing across her expression. “I just want to delay things a few months.”
“You—”
“I’ve got work at the institute tonight. That’s all for now. Think it over.”
Cheng Lang left.
Song Zhen remained seated for a long time, her mind blank. She’d come here hurting—but after Cheng Lang’s departure, she felt like the woman had hollowed her out completely.
Compared to that night, this cut even deeper.
She closed her eyes, buried her face in her hands, and frowned. As thoughts swirled, her eyes reddened.
A chair scraped softly nearby.
Startled, she hadn’t opened her eyes yet when a familiar voice spoke:
“No wonder you didn’t tell her about your differentiation. When you’re dealing with scum like that, there’s nothing worth saying.”