Scumbag A's Plan to Save the Heroine - Chapter 50

In truth, Ruan Ye could have simply broken up with Zhi Qiu and gone their separate ways. Instead, she chose to focus her efforts on people she could change.

But she didn’t. She wanted to see how her predetermined fate would unfold.

The autumn wind rustled the leaves that hadn’t yet fallen, their whispers gradually merging with the sound of Zhi Qiu turning pages beneath the tree.

Under the maple tree, Zhi Qiu was engrossed in a piano primer from M Country, practicing melodies in her mind as if no one else existed.

On the other side of the tree, Ruan Ye, dressed in a vibrant red dress, worked on her Light Brain. She had recently been hired as an intern by a multinational corporation. Perhaps she had caught a chill from sitting under the tree for too long, as she covered her mouth and nose and coughed softly.

Startled from her reverie, Zhi Qiu snapped, “I told you it was cold today! Why did you insist on wearing so little?”

Before the words had even left her mouth, Zhi Qiu stood up, walked around the tree, and removed her black windbreaker, draping it over Ruan Ye’s long, slender legs.

Ruan Ye continued working, raising an eyebrow. Her tone was cool as she said, “You’re about to marry a Noble Omega, yet you still find time to concern yourself with a nobody like me? I’m truly flattered.”

Three months had passed since Zhi Qiu unilaterally argued with Ruan Ye.

During those months, Zhi Qiu and Ruan Ye had broken up, and Zhi Qiu had sent out wedding invitations to all the wealthy young elites of Nolton with great fanfare.

Her intended spouse was Bai Yueguang, her childhood friend from elementary school in M Country. Rumored to be from a family of equal standing to the Zhi Family, Bai Yueguang’s privileged background and high compatibility with Zhi Qiu made her the perfect match.

“You’re really…” Zhi Qiu sighed, her tone weary, as if she had grown accustomed to this. “You’re the most sarcastic person I’ve ever met.”

Ever since the female lead had deviated from the conventional path, the plot had spiraled out of control like a runaway horse, never to return. Ruan Ye, who should have been filled with hatred for Zhi Qiu at this point, had miraculously become one of her “friends.”

Zhi Qiu could have severed ties with Ruan Ye completely, but she hadn’t. She had to admit that Ruan Ye possessed a certain charisma, that she wasn’t just a puppet acting according to the script, but a living, breathing person.

Ruan Ye’s peculiar personality inexplicably brought Zhi Qiu a sense of stability, making her feel like a fallen leaf returning to its roots in this chaotic world.

“Will you attend the wedding?” Zhi Qiu asked again.

At her words, Ruan Ye’s fingers paused on the keyboard. She looked up at Zhi Qiu, who stood before her holding a book, and countered, “Do you want me to go?”

Under that intense gaze, Zhi Qiu’s throat bobbed. Her voice came out hoarse, “I… I hope so.”

Suddenly, Ruan Ye stood up, folded the jacket draped over her lap, and silently handed it back. Her retreating figure carried a hint of finality. “Then your wish will be granted.”

Watching the departing red silhouette, Zhi Qiu’s calf muscles tensed. She instinctively wanted to chase after her and explain, but her grip tightened on the jacket. In the end, she lowered her head, her voice tinged with sorrow. “I wasn’t finished yet…”

I hope you…

Can be happy.

But I’m just a tool, delivering happiness into your hands.

I can’t make you truly happy.

Emotions churned within Zhi Qiu as she gazed up at the sky. The sun was gradually setting, its glare fading. In that moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to abandon the scripted plot.

“Forget it.” Zhi Qiu slammed the book shut. In the increasingly fierce autumn wind, she wrapped the jacket tighter around herself, her steps unsteady as she turned back.

In the end, I’m just a passerby.

Ruan Ye returned home, but she hesitated to enter her bedroom.

She stared silently at a pair of women’s high heels that had suddenly appeared on the shoe rack.

The living room, kitchen, and every other visible space were empty. Only her bedroom door remained tightly shut, though she clearly remembered leaving it open when she left earlier.

Ruan Ye quietly slipped into the kitchen, gripping a sharp fruit knife in her dominant hand. With her left hand, she deliberately picked up a rusty, dull knife and began grinding it against a whetstone, creating a loud, grating noise. Immediately afterward, she opened the cellar door and tossed a lit flashlight down into the darkness.

The cellar led directly outside, providing an escape route if danger arose.

With everything prepared, the bedroom door creaked open. The grinding sound ceased abruptly. Ruan Ye’s eyes widened, and the fruit knife slipped from her hand, its sharp blade piercing the wooden floor vertically.

Because a woman who looked exactly like her emerged from the room.

The woman approached steadily. Ruan Ye bent down to retrieve the fruit knife, silently retreating toward the open cellar. If the woman showed any sign of aggression, she would immediately flee into the cellar and call for help.

Ruan Ye retreated, knife raised, until half her heel was already hanging over the edge of the cellar entrance. The woman, who had been steadily advancing, finally stopped.

“Who are you? Why are you in my house? Do you know what the penalty is for trespassing in the Federation?” Ruan Ye demanded, her voice outwardly strong, though the tip of the knife trembled in her hand.

The woman, her hair pinned up with a wooden hairpin, had been standing barefoot on the floor. She turned and strolled toward the living room sofa, settling into a languid, natural pose as if she were completely at home, as if she were the true owner of the house.

“My name is Ruan Ning,” she said. “But you can call me Ruan Ye. That was my name once.”

The woman showed no signs of aggression.

Ruan Ye calmed down, lowered her knife, and walked into the living room. Only then did she notice that the woman calling herself “Ruan Ye” was holding her diary, flipping through it with keen interest.

That was her diary.

Ruan Ye hurried forward, reaching out with her left hand to snatch the diary back. But as if anticipating her move, the woman swiftly raised the book high above her head.

Ruan Ning stood barefoot on the floor, gazing down at the knife-wielding girl with a hint of sorrow in her eyes, as if recalling something from the past—her own stubborn, obsessive past.

“Who are you really?”

Seeing the girl’s grip on the knife tighten, Ruan Ning recalled her own past outbursts, when she had been utterly ruthless and unrecognizable to her own family. She quickly set down the diary, gently nudging it toward the girl’s leg with her fingertips. Then, she raised her hands to show she meant no harm.

“Ruan Ye, I mean you no harm. I came here simply to say a few words to you.”

Ruan Ye stared intently at the woman before her, wary that she might be feigning weakness. She slowly crouched to pick up the diary, then gradually approached until the tip of her knife pressed against the woman’s heart. Only when she was certain the woman wouldn’t resist did she speak coldly, her expression icy: “You’d better give me a damn good explanation.”

The beauty, her long black hair coiled into an elegant bun, smiled faintly, her eyes sparkling like scattered starlight. Ruan Ye frowned, her expression puzzled.

Could she really detect a hint of approval for her actions in the eyes of this woman, whose face was nearly identical to her own, even as the knife pressed against her heart?