Oops, I’m the Scumbag Ex in Her Storyline - Chapter 14

Two minutes later, the bartender slid the glass of lemon juice over to Xin Yan.

She took a sip and immediately felt like her 26 yuan had gone straight down the drain.

With such a fancy glass and such a premium price, she had assumed it would taste different from the usual lemon juice. Well, it was different.

…It was even more watered down than the 8-yuan ones sold outside.

Still, lemon juice is one of those things that—even at its worst—isn’t totally undrinkable. So Xin Yan quietly bit down on the straw and kept sipping as she slowly scanned the surroundings.

She had been drawn in by the enormous champagne glass-shaped neon sign outside. Once inside, she was so focused on getting a drink, she didn’t even notice how empty the bar was. Including the bartender, there were only about six or seven people inside—and all of them were women.

Some were drinking alone, others were working leisurely on laptops. For a moment, Xin Yan thought she’d walked into the wrong place—not a bar, but a female-only Starbucks.

That moment of confusion only lasted a second or two before she returned to her defeated slump. Even the way she idly flicked at the tiny paper umbrella on her drink screamed lack of motivation.

It was 2 PM, a time when bars typically didn’t see much business. The bartender had already wiped down everything she could and was officially out of things to do. Finally, she cast a sidelong glance at the woman sulking over lemon juice, eyeing her thick, feathery lashes and the sadness on her face. Raising an eyebrow, she strolled over slowly.

Sure, this customer wasn’t the “easy mark” she’d hoped for, but there would always be more sheep to fleece. Not all was lost.
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After drinking about a third of the lemon juice, Xin Yan suddenly heard a cool, crisp voice from across the counter:
“Rough day?”

Startled, she looked up at the bartender—the one who hadn’t spoken a single word to her until now.
“Uh…” She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah… not great.”

How odd. Do strangers really talk about this kind of thing?

Xin Yan wasn’t used to it, but… truthfully, she didn’t have anyone else to talk to right now.

The bartender gave her a knowing look. “Fought with your girlfriend?”

Xin Yan shook her head. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m married.”

The bartender: “……”

Why are all the pretty ones always married young?

Once Xin Yan started talking, she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t usually chatty, but the silence of the past few days had pushed her to the brink. She was desperate to let it all out.

Pushing her glass aside, she rested both arms on the bar and launched into her rant like a machine gun:

“It’s like this—I have a… little sister. She’s a lot younger than me, still in college. She’s been through some rough stuff, trusted the wrong people and got hurt. I just want to take care of her, to help her heal. But she doesn’t trust me. It’s like there’s this wall between us—thick, tall, impossible to scale. I’m on my side trying to tear it down, and she’s on hers reinforcing it brick by brick. And outside, there are people with shovels trying to dig at the foundation!

It’s chaos—internal and external pressure! The whole situation is already a mess, but then she keeps throwing me smokescreens! What’s with girls these days?! When they’re minors, they’re impossible to talk to. Once they’re adults, it’s all ‘36 Stratagems’ and reverse psychology. I’ve never even watched Romance of the Three Kingdoms! How am I supposed to keep up with this?!”

Pouring all of that out left her feeling lighter. She tossed the straw aside and drank the remaining lemon juice straight from the glass, stopping only when there was barely a sip left. Finally, she looked up at the bartender and asked,
“What do you think I should do to get her to trust me?”

The bartender: “……”

She was still trying to process the whole wall-dismantling metaphor.

Blinking slowly, she finally asked, “This person who hurt her before… was it you?”

Xin Yan immediately denied it: “Of course not!”

But after a second, her self-righteous expression faded into something sheepish.

“…Not exactly,” she admitted.

The bartender understood.

Why couldn’t people today just be honest? If you want relationship advice, just ask. No need to invent a whole “little sister” narrative like we’re living in the 20th century. Nobody knows anyone here—it’s not like we’re going to laugh at you.

Still… the bartender glanced at Xin Yan with a discerning eye.

Huh. Who would’ve thought that someone with her porcelain skin and elegant beauty—someone who could pass for a UN goodwill ambassador in the right outfit—would be playing the role of the “reformed heartbreaker”?

Clearing her throat, the bartender looked away to avoid staring. After a couple of seconds of thought, she offered her honest advice:
“If I were your ‘sister,’ I wouldn’t trust you either. Where were you when I was getting hurt? Now that you show up out of nowhere, you expect me to believe you just because you say a few nice things? Why should I? If I did, wouldn’t all the pain I went through be meaningless? Actions speak louder than words. Hearts take time to heal—even stone trees eventually bloom. Be patient. That’s the key.”

Xin Yan stared at her, silent.

She understood the logic. She really did. But setbacks were hard to swallow. And then there was Bei Lanlan—who was different. With her, Xin Yan always felt more urgency, more desperation to make things right.

So much to that when her efforts didn’t yield immediate results, it hit her hard.

But that wasn’t fair. She’d only been here a few days—barely a week—and she expected Bei Lanlan to shed years of hurt just like that?

That kind of thinking was selfish.

Suddenly, it all clicked. Xin Yan stood up and sincerely said,
“Thank you. I get it now. The lemon juice was great—I’ll come back again when I have time.”

The bartender: “……”

Well, I suppose 26 yuan is still money.

Before Xin Yan left, the bartender offered one last tip:
“Oh, and before you go home—buy your ‘sister’ something. Girls love gifts.”

Xin Yan nodded in agreement. “What kind of gift?”

The bartender was stunned. How does she not know this?

“Flowers. Jewelry. Chocolate. Anything pretty will do.”

Xin Yan listened, then hesitated. “You sure?”

The bartender replied confidently, “Trust me, I’ve charmed so many girls. This always works.”

Xin Yan: “……”

She glanced over at another woman sitting at the bar, who gave her a small nod of confirmation.

So this was the norm, and she was just out of the loop.

The world had changed. What used to be considered thoughtful gifts for young girls—like stationery or stuffed animals—no longer cut it. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

With that thought, Xin Yan solidified her resolve. She thanked the bartender again and left in a hurry.

The bar returned to its peaceful quiet. The bartender collected the empty glass of lemon juice and wiped down the counter.

The other customer looked at her for a moment before asking the question that had been on her mind:
“Did that woman… know this is a lesbian bar?”

The bartender didn’t hesitate:
“Of course. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come to me for advice—don’t you think?”

The customer: “……”