Oops, I’m the Scumbag Ex in Her Storyline - Chapter 13

Xin Yan kept her hopeful anticipation well hidden, but it was no use—Bei Lanlan still saw right through her.

Silently watching the slightly nervous Xin Yan, Bei Lanlan suddenly smiled.
“I think it’s great,” she said.

Receiving such a clear affirmation, Xin Yan was delighted. She lowered her head and continued eating, unaware of how Bei Lanlan’s smile had slowly faded from her eyes.

At 2:30 in the afternoon, Bei Lanlan handed the completed document back to Xin Yan. Since she was still a beginner, Xin Yan wasn’t quite ready to trust her blindly, so while Bei Lanlan was off completing those “one or two-hour tasks” arranged by An Zhiyuan, Xin Yan quickly opened the file and began reviewing it line by line.

At first, she read with intense concentration—partly because she didn’t understand some of it, which slowed her down. But after flipping through three or four pages, her reading pace picked up.

And with it, her expression grew increasingly astonished.

The summary… was actually really good?!

Newbies usually made mistakes—it was expected. But this report Bei Lanlan submitted had clear points, structured logic, and not a single unnecessary word. It was all substance.

What was even more surprising was that Bei Lanlan had stripped away most of the technical jargon. Aside from defining each term once, she used letter abbreviations throughout the rest of the report. The entire layout instantly looked more organized.

Poor President Xin could finally understand it!

Xin Yan clutched the document, nearly moved to tears.

Whatever the original version of her personality was like, when it came to work, she was all business. Her subordinates knew this, which was why they never dared to simplify anything in their reports. In fact, they’d often over-complicate things just to avoid being accused of slacking off.

But Bei Lanlan had no clue about that. When she saw that Xin Yan had asked her to summarize the file, she assumed that meant Xin Yan didn’t like all the technical mumbo-jumbo.

…

Either way, the result was perfect.

Thrilled, Xin Yan made a snap decision on the spot: From now on, all documents like this would go to Bei Lanlan first—she’d summarize them, and then Xin Yan would take over.

An Zhiyuan had no idea what a terrifying decision Xin Yan had just made. By the time he found out, Xin Yan was already out shopping with Bei Lanlan.

With each passing day, the to-do list in Xin Yan’s mental notebook kept getting longer. Taking advantage of the weekend break, she gave both herself and Bei Lanlan a day off.

As for Bei Lanlan’s wardrobe—Xin Yan was ready to donate all of it. If the charity refused, she’d tear them up for rags. And if they weren’t even good enough for that, then they’d go straight into the fire.

Bottom line: Not a single piece was staying.

Bei Lanlan didn’t react much when Xin Yan dragged her out shopping. After all, Xin Yan had already made her stance clear countless times: she’d forgotten about Jing Chu, she wouldn’t force Bei Lanlan to play

Jing Chu’s role again, and from now on, she’d treat her well—blah blah blah.

Since she’d said she wouldn’t make her act like someone else anymore, new clothes were clearly a necessity.

They arrived at a high-end boutique—massive in size, nearly empty of customers. Xin Yan told her to pick whatever she liked.

The sales associate, catching the scent of money, happily escorted Bei Lanlan to the most expensive section and began enthusiastically recommending their newest pieces.

Xin Yan, however, showed no interest in the clothes. To her, everything was new. Every single piece in the original wardrobe was untouched by her—she could wear a different outfit every day for years.

She sat on the sofa across from the fitting room. Soon, another associate brought over some black tea. Xin Yan smiled politely and took a sip.

…It tasted awful.

From where Bei Lanlan stood, she could clearly see Xin Yan sitting there, looking bored out of her mind, swirling the tea and watching the particles float up and down. Every ten seconds or so, she’d reluctantly take a small sip, then repeat the process.

The sales associate continued introducing pieces, but Bei Lanlan stayed silent. She kept glancing in Xin Yan’s direction. The associate followed her gaze, then smiled, “Is she your girlfriend? You two look really happy together.”

Flattery is a basic skill in retail—but the moment she said it, the associate realized she’d stepped on a landmine. Bei Lanlan’s expression turned dark.

Panicking, she tried to salvage the situation—but to her surprise, the moody customer suddenly lit up, her smile warm as spring. She pointed to three of the pieces just shown and said, “These three—please get them in my size. I’ll try them on.”

The associate blinked at her sudden shift, then nodded quickly. “O-of course!”

Ten minutes later, Bei Lanlan emerged from the fitting room in a new outfit.

Xin Yan’s tea had long gone cold, barely touched. But when she saw Bei Lanlan, she quickly set the cup aside and unleashed the same flattery the associate had used earlier.

“You look amazing. That outfit really suits you.”

Bei Lanlan smiled happily and went back in to try the second outfit.

Xin Yan had decided: if flattery worked, she’d become a full-time flatterer. As long as Bei Lanlan didn’t come out in anything resembling Jing Chu’s style, she would praise it without hesitation.

Outfit two, outfit three—same praise.

Outfit four, outfit five—that’s when Xin Yan started running out of words.

By the time Bei Lanlan went back in to try a sixth outfit, Xin Yan quietly turned her gaze to the clothing rack nearby.

These five pieces were definitely not Jing Chu’s style. The cuts were clean, the style minimalist, the fabric luxurious. They were all designed for women aged 25–45.

Jing Chu’s entire wardrobe had consisted of dresses—off-the-shoulder, sleeveless, highly revealing. These five, on the other hand, were mostly pantsuits. Even the few dresses were clearly meant for formal occasions.

In other words, they were all in “Xin Yan’s” style—the original Xin Yan.

Xin Yan fell completely silent.

She’d told Bei Lanlan to pick clothes she liked. But were these really her favorites? Or… had she picked them on purpose?

If it was the former, it meant Bei Lanlan had lost her sense of self to the point of being completely reshaped by the original Xin Yan. If it was the latter… it wasn’t any better. It meant she still didn’t trust Xin Yan, and was trying to win her over through small details like these.

When Bei Lanlan came out in the sixth outfit, Xin Yan couldn’t even bring herself to smile. She stood up quietly and said to the sales associate, “I’ve got things to do this afternoon, so let’s wrap it up. Your clothes are lovely—just pack up whatever fits Lanlan. I’ll buy it all.”

If this were a TV drama, the heroine would’ve fainted from happiness at that line from the “CEO.”

But Bei Lanlan only gave her a puzzled glance.

Meanwhile, the sales associate looked like she was about to pass out from joy.

—

After leaving the store, Bei Lanlan stole several glances at Xin Yan’s expression, but couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. Xin Yan used to be easy to read—mostly because she never bothered hiding her emotions. But now, even though she didn’t hide them outright, her thoughts were harder to guess.

Xin Yan seemed drained. She turned and said, “I need to run some errands. You can head home first.”

Bei Lanlan stepped forward, a little hesitant. “Um… can I walk around on my own for a bit?”

Even in her exhausted state, Xin Yan gave her a gentle smile.

“Of course. Just remember to be home for dinner.”

Before Bei Lanlan could respond, Xin Yan had already turned and walked away. Watching her figure disappear, Bei Lanlan bit her lip, pulled out her phone, and made a call to Xu Suyu.

Her “wife” had just walked away—straight into the arms of her former “mistress.” And Xin Yan herself had no clue.

She wandered around for a long time before finally stepping into a bar.

Like many others with a heavy heart, Xin Yan found her way to the bar counter and slumped into a seat. The bartender, no stranger to this kind of customer, narrowed her eyes like a hunter spotting prey.

Ah, another heartbroken lamb has arrived~

Come on, baby. Tell me what you want to drink. Say it loud, say it proud!

The next second, the “lamb” opened her mouth and said:

“Lemon juice. No ice, please. Thank you.”

Bartender: “……”