Oops, I’m the Scumbag Ex in Her Storyline - Chapter 18

President Song—full name Song Xizi—is just like Xin Yan: both are powerful women at the helm of major corporations. Xin Yan is 28, Song Xizi is 29. On the national rich list, Xin Yan ranks 88th, while Song Xizi is right behind her at 89th.

With similar net worths and overlapping industries, the two of them—who might otherwise have had nothing to do with each other—are constantly mentioned in the same breath. Both the original Xin Yan and

Song Xizi have equally domineering personalities. Neither can stand being ranked second, and over time, their rivalry only deepened.

Adding fuel to the fire, they’re fundamentally different people. The original Xin Yan was wholly devoted to Jing Chu. Song Xizi, on the other hand, changes lovers every month—she could practically host an entire zodiac-themed exhibit featuring all her exes from just one year.

Xin Yan disdained Song Xizi’s promiscuity; Song Xizi couldn’t stand Xin Yan’s tunnel vision. Every time they met, they traded barbs—nothing was off-limits. Compared to their past exchanges, calling someone “trash” today was practically polite.

Thinking about this, Xin Yan went quiet.

“…Forget it. I’ll pretend I didn’t see her.”

She wasn’t afraid of conflict, but in this setting, avoiding unnecessary drama was the smarter move. After all, the client always comes first.

Song Xizi had already approached Aduobo, speaking Arabic with a bright smile. Xin Yan gave her a glance, then looked away.

An Zhiyuan, clearly anxious, leaned closer. “President Xin, should we head over too?”

Xin Yan didn’t move. Instead, she glanced at Song Xizi again and suddenly asked, “Has Song Xizi changed lovers this month yet?”

An Zhiyuan blinked, thrown off by the question.

“I heard she already broke up with the last one. She only brought her assistant today—no one else.”

Unlike Xin Yan, who always has just her assistant around, Song Xizi is never seen without her latest flame. Showing up solo probably meant she hadn’t found a new one yet.

Xin Yan stared at her, increasingly displeased.

The one who had stolen her company’s tech for Bei Lanlan was Xu Suyu. But the person who swooped in to buy up her company’s shares afterward? That was Song Xizi.

Not only did she assist in the acquisition—she even grabbed a hefty portion of stock for herself. When Bei Lanlan became the largest shareholder, Song Xizi became the second largest.

The book described it like this: After meeting Bei Lanlan, Song Xizi supposedly “turned over a new leaf” and gave up on her string of lovers. But later in the story, when she grew jealous of all the women around Bei Lanlan, she relapsed—resuming her old habits and even weaponizing her shares to try to take over Lanlan’s company.

Lanlan, however, was smarter. She used Song Xizi’s aggression against her, came out unscathed, and even caused Song’s shares to plummet. Song conceded, they made peace. Song returned to her revolving-door love life. Lanlan never interfered.

Xin Yan hadn’t thought much of it when reading the book. But now, standing here in real life, she couldn’t help narrowing her eyes.

If you asked her, Song Xizi’s so-called “reformation” was all a sham—just something to make Bei Lanlan happy. Other people might not know Song Xizi, but Xin Yan did. That woman only cared about money. If seducing someone could turn a profit, she wouldn’t hesitate to flip the script and become someone else’s lover.

That initial “help” wasn’t born from affection. It was a calculated move—she saw Bei Lanlan’s potential and wanted in on the prize after Xin Yan was toppled.

And as for her claim that jealousy made her act out? Total nonsense. A woman like Song Xizi, who chases luxury and decadence, wouldn’t tolerate the smallest grievance. If she felt wronged, she would retaliate immediately—not wait until halfway through the plot.

Excuses. All of it.

She was sly, calculating, and deeply manipulative. No wonder Xin Yan’s original self had seared her into memory more deeply than even Jing Chu. Now that’s a true nemesis.

But still… Lanlan had accepted someone like her. Sought her help, even.

And Xin Yan? She’d probably never be given that chance.

Different starting lines. She and Bei Lanlan were separated by a mountain. No matter how hard she tried to climb, it was still a solo effort.

The road ahead felt endless.

Xin Yan stayed silent while An Zhiyuan drifted off to socialize—another part of his job: digging for intel. He grabbed two glasses of wine, nodded to Xin Yan, and wandered away.

Seeing him with the drinks, she picked up a small glass herself. She sniffed it—no trace of alcohol. One sip, then her eyebrows arched in surprise.

This… is actually good.

Since being transported into this world, she hadn’t been able to tolerate most drinks outside of home or the office. At first, she blamed the drinks. Later, she realized her taste had changed.

She used to love sweets. Now, she preferred savory. Her diet had changed, so of course her drinks would too. She’d grown tired of the few beverages stocked at home. She hadn’t expected to find something here that suited her taste.

She wondered what it was.

It was a buffet-style setup. The drink she’d picked was no more than 80ml—gone in two sips. She grabbed another one, slowly savoring it, trying to figure out the ingredients.

She could taste orange juice—maybe it was a mixed fruit juice?

After two glasses, her cheeks felt warm. She assumed the air-conditioning was broken and picked up another. Then she made her way toward Adubo.

She’d realized by now—Adubo was never left alone. There was already a small crowd around him. She found a gap and slipped in.

The person she bumped nearly twisted an ankle.

Song Xizi glared. “Xin Yan, didn’t you see I was standing here?”

Xin Yan turned, wine glass in hand, and gave Song Xizi a once-over. She smiled sweetly.

“Oops. My bad. Of all my senses, eyesight’s the worst. Didn’t spot your huge face at all.”

Song Xizi: “…”

Adubo didn’t understand Chinese, but everyone else did. Heads turned. Song Xizi opened her mouth to retaliate—too late.

Xin Yan had already turned back, smiling at Adubo.

“We meet again. You look well-rested—had a good night, I presume?”

Silence.

Then she turned slightly toward a nearby assistant and smiled, her tone firm. “Why are you just standing there? Translate.”

She sounded completely justified, even subtly threatening—do as I say, or you’re fired. The poor assistant flinched and instinctively obeyed. Only after translating did he remember—wait, I don’t work for you.

But it was too late. Adubo responded, and the assistant had no choice but to keep going.

When An Zhiyuan finally found his boss, she was sitting with Adubo, chatting like old friends. The assistant sat beside her, eyes full of despair. Every time he translated too slowly, she stomped on his foot.

His own boss? Watching helplessly.

An Zhiyuan stared—not at Xin Yan, but at her wine glass.

Oh no.

Xin Yan had drunk alcohol.

She had zero tolerance. One beer? She would lose her sense of direction. One glass of wine? She could flip the roof. She had two drunken incidents before, and since then, had avoided alcohol completely—unless she was in a seriously dark place.

Was this because of one insult from Song Xizi? No way she was pulling out the big guns for that… right?

Not many people had seen Xin Yan drunk. In this room, only An Zhiyuan and Song Xizi had.

When drunk, Xin Yan didn’t shout or act wild. She became aggressively combative. To the point where her usual self looked like a peaceful poetry-reading scholar in comparison.

At first, Song Xizi had doubted she was drunk.

Then a man approached Adubo to speak. He said one word—

Xin Yan’s head snapped up.

“Didn’t your teacher ever tell you to wait your turn before raising your hand? If not, I’ll teach you now. Stand straight, chin up, hands behind your back! Go reflect in the corner!”

The man retreated in shame.

Xin Yan instantly switched gears and smiled at Adubo. “This is the perfect season to enjoy autumn scenery. I know a mountaintop restaurant with authentic Chinese cuisine. If you have time, I would love to treat you.”

…

Every Chinese restaurant serves Chinese food. And you say it like it’s exclusive!

An Zhiyuan cringed and rushed over to pull her away.

She protested, “Why are you dragging me off? We were having such a nice chat! Let go—I wasn’t done talking!”

“President Xin,” he pleaded. “You’re drunk. Do you remember what happened the last time? Before you totally black out, let’s just go.”

But no matter how he begged, she refused. He was on the verge of tears. Then suddenly, Xin Yan turned and walked out.

“You’re right. I should go back.”

An Zhiyuan blinked. Then remembered—his last line had been:

“If you don’t go home now, you won’t be able to take Lanlan to school tomorrow.”

…That worked?!

No time to dwell—he chased after her.

Once they were gone, Song Xizi emerged from the shadows.

Bei Lanlan…

She tucked the name away, picked up the same drink Xin Yan had, and went to mingle.

________________________________________

10 PM, the tree-lined road was quiet. Few people lived here. Those who could afford it didn’t stay long. Most long-term residents were like her—people who couldn’t afford it, but stayed due to circumstance.

When she first moved in, the place felt eerie—luxurious, but deathly silent. Like a custom-made tomb. Later, she grew numb to it. But tonight, the feeling returned.

Bei Lanlan stared at the book in her hands, unable to focus.

It felt like a slow-boiling pot—bubbles barely rising, heat consuming everything until nothing was left, not even a sound.

Why couldn’t she calm down? Was it because Xin Yan hadn’t brought her to the event? Or because she hadn’t come home at all?

But not coming home—that was normal. Wasn’t that exactly what she wanted?

As she pondered, a noise came from downstairs.

Startled, Bei Lanlan put the book down and walked out instinctively.

Downstairs, An Zhiyuan looked up as if salvation had arrived.

“Miss Bei! You’re just in time—President Xin is drunk and keeps asking for you. Please take her.”

At the word drunk, Bei Lanlan froze.

She remembered that awful night. Drunk Xin Yan—like a demon. Not loud, not wild. Just doing one thing—something vile.

But the woman in front of her now… pushed An Zhiyuan away like a child, stumbled around like a lost fly, and when she saw Lanlan—her face lit up with grievance.

Head tilted up, voice soft:

“Lanlan… someone called me trash today.”

She didn’t move. Just stood there, eyes blinking, as if speaking with her, silently luring Bei Lanlan forward.

As she walked down the stairs, one thought circled in Bei Lanlan’s mind:

Xin Yan hasn’t changed at all. She’s still a demon.

Only now… she had learned to make me willing.