Oops, I’m the Scumbag Ex in Her Storyline - Chapter 17

An Zhiyuan stopped Xin Yan from leaving right away—after all, the party wasn’t starting until 10 p.m.

Others usually adapt to local customs. This guest, however, brought his own customs and made the locals adapt to him. Strangely, no one seemed to find this inappropriate.

Xin Yan thought bitterly, It must be nice to be rich.

…

Since they now had plenty of time, Xin Yan relaxed. She waved An Zhiyuan off again, then walked toward a wall in her office. A few artsy-looking paintings hung there. She reached for one and pressed it gently for a few seconds.

A smooth female voice chimed from the wall:

“Fingerprint recognition successful.”

Lanlan looked on in astonishment as Xin Yan swung the painting open like a door, revealing a hidden wall safe.

She knew she shouldn’t be snooping—but her curiosity got the better of her. If it was hidden in such a secretive place, what could be inside?

Company secrets? Priceless jewelry? The company seal?

Xin Yan had her back turned, so Lanlan figured it was safe to sneak a look. Holding her breath, she watched as Xin Yan stood still, letting the safe scan her iris.

Another electronic voice sounded:

“Iris authentication successful.”

Lanlan craned her neck further—just in time to see Xin Yan pull out… a smaller safe from inside the big one.

Lanlan: “……”

Speechless.

Honestly, Xin Yan wasn’t much better. She was genuinely impressed by her body’s original owner. All this for a few potential client reports? Was this level of security really necessary?

After a moment of reflection, her lip twitched slightly.

Password: 654321.

…What was even the point?

Exhausted, she finally unlocked the last layer, found the file related to Adubo, and turned to head back.

Noticing Xin Yan was about to turn around, Lanlan whipped her head forward and pretended to be completely absorbed in her own work—though her upper body had twisted in time, her legs were still pointed awkwardly to the side.

Xin Yan stared at her twisted sitting posture for a few seconds, puzzled. But she didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she walked over and said, “I’ll probably be back really late again tonight.”

Lanlan silently adjusted her legs to a normal sitting position. Then, looking up innocently and blinking, she replied, “Got it.”

Xin Yan sighed. “If only I could take you with me…”

At those words, Lanlan instinctively sat up straighter.

She wanted to go to school. She wanted to work. She wanted every opportunity that could make her independent, free, and strong.

So even if she wouldn’t like the people at this party, she still wanted to be there.

But Xin Yan paused for a second—then continued on her own, “No, you can’t. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

She smiled. “If I remember correctly, your class starts at 8:30, right? I’ll take you in the morning, then head to the office.”

Lanlan looked at her, lips tightening slightly. She gave a soft “Mm,” then turned her head and went back to her work.

Xin Yan blinked. She could sense the shift in Lanlan’s mood. Even though they hadn’t exchanged a word all morning, she could tell Lanlan had been in a good mood earlier. But now, even though she looked calm and obedient on the outside, she was clearly upset inside.

Xin Yan thought back over their recent conversation, trying to figure out what she might’ve said wrong—but came up empty-handed. Baffled, she returned to her desk.

At 5 p.m., the company day ended. No matter what the rest of the office was like, Xin Yan’s floor never worked overtime. Lanlan, punctual as ever, packed up and left.

Xin Yan stayed behind, still trying to figure out what had upset Lanlan.

An Zhiyuan arrived with a dress and a stylist. No matter where Xin Yan’s thoughts had wandered, he stuck to business.

“You’ve got one hour to get ready. You need to leave by 8.”

Xin Yan snapped back to reality. “Didn’t it start at 10?”

Why were they leaving so early?

An Zhiyuan kept a professional smile, but Xin Yan could clearly see beneath it: You can’t be this dense, right?

Xin Yan: “……”

Oblivious to his own exposed expression, An Zhiyuan patiently explained:

“If we show up on time, how does that show Mr. Adubo we value him? If we don’t show we value him, why would he treat you as a friend? And if he doesn’t treat you as a friend, how is he supposed to willingly hand you money?”

Xin Yan stared blankly for a moment—then jumped to her feet and slammed the desk.

“What are we waiting for?! Give me that dress!”
…

Thanks to Xin Yan’s sense of urgency, they left within 30 minutes. She thought she’d arrived early—but in fact, she wasn’t even the third one there.

The thing about the ultra-rich? They were like the kids who rush the school snack carts—sensitive to timing by the second. If word gets out a cart’s been parked longer than five seconds, a stampede begins: climbing fences, skipping class, faking medical emergencies to run outside and “buy XXL pads for a heavy period,” you name it. All kinds of unthinkable, unhinged tactics.

If teenagers could go that hard, imagine what full-grown adults were capable of.

By the time Xin Yan arrived, the bearded Adubo was already surrounded by two eager guests—and his secretary had four people swarming him.

Xin Yan paused, confused. Wait… why so many people around the secretary?

She leaned over and whispered to An Zhiyuan, “Why are there so many people talking to his secretary?”

An Zhiyuan whispered back, “The secretary speaks Chinese.”

…Oh.

Wait a minute—then why didn’t he speak Chinese yesterday?!

He’d spoken Arabic the whole time, and she hadn’t understood a single word! She had to maintain a polite smile while translating through An Zhiyuan line by line. If she had known the secretary spoke Chinese, she wouldn’t have needed to fake her way through the entire dinner!

Xin Yan asked An Zhiyuan in disbelief, and all she got in return was a slightly aggrieved look.

—Because you’re not as rich as him.

Xin Yan: “……”

Apparently, at any level of the food chain, the client is always king.

She stood there, wondering whether she should jump into the fray now or act a little more dignified and wait for those two to finish. Squinting toward the group, she had a feeling those two guests were never going to leave.

Just then, An Zhiyuan subtly leaned in and whispered, “President Song just arrived.”

His tone was serious. For him to give such a quiet heads-up, this “President Song” had to be someone significant.

Xin Yan followed his gaze—just as the woman looked over at her.

Tall in heels, at least 1.85 meters. Black hair cascading down to her waist. Graceful. Seductive. She wore a halter-neck gown that showed off her perfect shoulders and a platinum chain around her slender waist.

With each step, the chain swung lightly, radiating elegance.

To most people, it was a stunning, captivating sight.

To Xin Yan… it was something else entirely.

President Song had fox-like eyes—mature, sultry, and full of attitude. And right now, those eyes were locked on Xin Yan with undisguised hostility.

From across the room, while handing her coat to a servant, she mouthed something at Xin Yan.

Xin Yan mouthed the words silently to herself—then realized:

She just called her “trash.”

Xin Yan was stunned.

Did she just insult me?

Me?! I’m such a lovely person—and you call me trash???