Transmigrated as the Imperial Princess's Scumbag Alpha Ex-Wife - Chapter 14

Zhu Yu had always thought Bai Shuzhou was reserved and perpetually melancholic.

But during her sick leave, she discovered how rich Bai Shuzhou’s life truly was.

Bai Shuzhou spent most of her time reading, with no subject off-limits. From astronomy to the secrets of rice cultivation, she devoured knowledge with equal fervor, even children’s literature.

When reading, she would lightly trace her fingers over her favorite passages, as if touching a fictional dream through the rustling pages. Her pale blue eyes reflected the delicate words, softening her usual melancholy and coldness into a gentle crescent moon at the corner of her lips.

The ethereal moonlight descended from its lofty perch, and Zhu Yu, chin propped in her hand, secretly watched her. The game console’s volume was turned low, creating a background of bustling yet lonely sounds.

By the time Zhu Yu left for work, Bai Shuzhou had already completed all the game levels. He Ming often said, “Sister Little Zhou is amazing at games, unlike someone,” the “someone” being Zhu Yu, a tactful way of preserving her dignity.

To Bai Shuzhou, every game was as simple as a blank sheet of paper. A quick glance was all it took to grasp the solution, and even when on the verge of defeat, she could turn the tide. He Ming practically worshipped her as a deity, and even his friends would bring their unsolvable game challenges to her for help.

Her mind always operated on a higher plane. With a mere flick of her fingers, she could unravel the Nine Linked Rings. Her movements were swift, precise, and ruthless, yet always elegant, always effortless.

Zhu Yu was terrible at games, chattering incessantly and frantically while playing, rivaling even He Ming in her noisiness. She would strike a triumphant pose, chest puffed out, as she typed “GAMEOVER,” letting out a series of animal-like squeals before muttering, “Just a mistake, just a mistake,” and repeatedly reloading the game.

As one of the only two adults in this cheerful little house, she had barely managed to play a few games with Bai Shuzhou.

The children would go to great lengths to play with Bai Shuzhou, hiking for two hours across the city, calling it a “tutoring session” (academic relaxation edition).

Zhu Yu loathed these kids. Whenever they were all at home together, she felt out of place. Even though it was her house too, she felt like an unwanted outsider.

The children would cling to Bai Shuzhou without restraint, especially when they appeared in their cub forms. Occasionally, when Bai Shuzhou was in a good mood, she would even help them groom their fur.

It was during these moments that Zhu Yu realized Bai Shuzhou could actually smile.

Not the mocking or cold smiles that merely tugged at her lips, but a genuine, faint smile that came from within. Bai Shuzhou maintained a gentle, distant politeness with everyone—except Zhu Yu.

I hate the moon for shining only on her, yet how could I ever bear to hate the moon?

Zhu Yu loved watching her smile, even though that smile was never meant for her.

When you gaze at the moon, how dare you dream of holding it in your arms?

She only wanted to return her to the heavens.

Zhu Yu bought the wheelchair Nangong sent for a hefty sum, and with a quick flip, it was worth eighteen thousand credits. Federation technology was truly astonishing; the anti-gravity assist allowed Bai Shuzhou to independently transfer in and out of the chair.

Now Zhu Yu had lost even the excuse to hold her.

During each massage, Bai Shuzhou would bite her lip, her slender back arching taut as a bowstring, refusing to let out even a soft moan.

Afterward, she would look at Zhu Yu with teary eyes, her beautiful brows furrowing like the brushstrokes of an ink-wash landscape folded into sharp peaks. Zhu Yu couldn’t decipher the meaning.

All she knew was that Bai Shuzhou seemed to despise her more and more, unwilling even to tell her to “get lost.”

Now, the command to “get lost” had been reduced to a curled finger, flicking lightly.

Zhu Yu obediently recoiled.

Bai Shuzhou enjoyed this new, subtle gesture, though Zhu Yu was so focused on “getting lost” that she failed to notice the slight upturn of her lips.

He Ming noticed, watching with rapt attention. After Zhu Yu scurried out, she eagerly raised her hand. “Sister Little Zhou, me too! Me too!”

Bai Shuzhou’s smile vanished. She pursed her lips, adopting a cold, authoritative demeanor. “Have you finished your homework? How about two more chapters?”

He Ming fled in disarray.

Zhu Yu pretended to be calm and indifferent, secretly turning her head away to wail silently, scream inwardly, and then sneak off to work… Oh, she didn’t need to sneak off for that.

The ring Bai Shuzhou had forced upon her had been made into a necklace, worn tucked inside her shirt, warmed by her body heat.

It was Bai Shuzhou’s birthday gift, far too precious for Zhu Yu to ever sell.

Late at night, under the dim glow of the nightlight, she secretly put it on. Bai Shuzhou’s fingers were so slender that the ring wouldn’t fit on the same finger Zhu Yu wore it on; it would get stuck at the knuckle. She had to switch it to another finger.

In the dim light, the fire opal shimmered. Zhu Yu admired it for a moment, her hand raised, when the sheer curtain behind her rustled softly. A low cough startled her, flushing her cheeks. She quickly covered her hand and turned around.

The woman lay peacefully with her eyes closed, seemingly fast asleep, her breathing even and regular. Her routine was always so disciplined, as if she strictly adhered to a schedule.

Now, her long eyelashes cast soft shadows, their delicate curve softened by the nightlight’s glow. Zhu Yu could never tire of watching her.

She imagined another small world beneath those lashes, gently sketching out a fairytale dream.

Feeling guilty like a thief caught in the act, Zhu Yu slowly stood up, tucked the blanket around her, and then carefully lay back down, dimming the nightlight even further.

After Zhu Yu fell asleep, the jade Guanyin-like beauty on the bed opened her eyes. She gazed down at Zhu Yu for a long moment, then silently extended her vines toward the ring, making a subtle adjustment.

The next morning, Zhu Yu woke up in a panic to find she couldn’t remove the ring.

The massive bl00d-red gemstone glittered on her finger. Despite scrubbing it with soapy water for ages, she couldn’t get it off. When facing Bai Shuzhou, she had no choice but to awkwardly hide her hand behind her back, straightening her spine as if trying to appear composed. At first glance, she almost pulled it off.

Her only consolation was that the gemstone’s sheer size made it look fake. Everyone tacitly agreed that Zhu Yu was wearing a large piece of colored organic glass.

Nangong scoffed at Zhu Yu’s lack of taste, suggesting she’d be better off shopping at vintage stores. “You used to have a refined air,” she sneered. “Now you look like a lottery-winning nouveau riche.”

Wearing that gaudy ring at Paradis was like a beggar flaunting a golden bowl—even the number of customers requesting Zhu Yu by name dwindled.

Zhu Yu refused to speak to her.

She harbored deep suspicion toward this woman who coveted Bai Shuzhou. Though Zhu Yu never spoke ill of others behind their backs, she couldn’t help but bristle with indignation whenever her furry-eared colleagues praised Nangong. “What’s so beautiful about her?!” she’d retort. “Is she really that beautiful?”

It was a rhetorical question.

Nangong glided past, her red lips curving into a smirk. She tossed her hair, winked in their direction, and effortlessly crossed Zhu Yu’s fragile pride with her mesmerizingly long legs, eliciting a chorus of gasps.

Nangong had a stunning figure. Standing beside her, Zhu Yu felt almost too slender. The muscles in Nangong’s arms were perfectly defined, and she deliberately rolled up her sleeves high when mixing drinks.

Thin calluses lined her palms and knuckles, and her fingers were exceptionally strong. When she carried trays, the veins on the back of her hands pulsed faintly. Her sharp eyes constantly scanned the room, searching for prey.

Zhu Yu wanted to scream—out of sheer frustration.

Her colleague Hai Bao secretly asked Zhu Yu if she was close to Nangong and if she could get her contact information. He was willing to defy the taboo of interspecies romance.

“I don’t know her,” Zhu Yu replied.

Nangong leaned in close to Hai Bao, her crimson hair cascading around her face as she smiled. Her voice was low and magnetic. “No need to be secretive. You can have it now.”

Hai Bao, a jellyfish, flushed pink, melted into a boneless puddle, and oozed downward.

“Pull yourself together!” Zhu Yu frantically caught him, while Nangong chuckled beside her.

Nangong constantly hovered around Zhu Yu, pestering her about the new parts she was repairing and why she hadn’t quit yet, effectively monopolizing all of Zhu Yu’s regular customers.

No one could refuse Nangong’s overwhelming hospitality. The Bewitching Sister’s market reach far exceeded Zhu Yu’s imagination.

Without specific instructions or performance metrics, Zhu Yu had no idea what Nangong had told the manager. The manager even asked Zhu Yu when she planned to resign, implying that a high-achieving repair technician was indeed ill-suited for this job.

What infuriated Zhu Yu most was that even when she took time off to focus on repairs at home, Nangong would feign concern and drop by to “check on her progress,” charming the visiting children in the process.

Moreover, Nangong was a formidable gamer, a worthy opponent for Bai Shuzhou, their skills evenly matched.

The ice-cold silver-haired woman sat in her wheelchair as Nangong leaned down, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulder. Their silent, unspoken rivalry filled the air with a palpable tension.

It was a captivating sight.

He Ming nudged Zhu Yu. “Don’t you think they make a perfect pair?”

Zhu Yu snapped, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “Have you finished your homework, brat? I’m confiscating your game console!”

She desperately wished she could summon the original owner of this body—Soul, return! Soul, return!—to use her cunning tricks to drive away that annoying Nangong!

Or, Bai Qianze, hurry and save the Princess! Strangle that redhead! That despicable Federation Citizen is eyeing your sister!

Could Bai Shuzhou really be into bad girls?

A princess isolated in her ivory tower, untouched by the world’s harsh realities, was indeed easily deceived.

Nangong and the original Zhu Yu were kindred spirits… Even when Zhu Yu worked at the nutrient paste factory, she felt mentally adrift, desperately suppressing her strange emotions, like a listless rabbit bouncing in her stomach.

Turning her head, she mimicked Nangong’s gesture, flipping her hair and winking clumsily at Little Shan beside her.

Little Shan removed her headphones, her voice filled with concern. “Have you been working too hard? Your eyes look strained, like they’re twitching.”

Zhu Yu: Total defeat!

She lowered her head and slumped over, wishing she could just become a sad strawberry-flavored nutrient paste bar.

Bai Shuzhou loved strawberries.

…

She was doomed!

No, wait—someone else was doomed. What if Nangong, that wicked woman, replaced the original Zhu Yu in the play, seducing the Princess, returning to the palace with her, then revealing her true nature, only to be captured and whipped!

No way!

How dare she make the Princess sad! They couldn’t do this—Zhu Yu hadn’t even signed the divorce confirmation yet!

Ah, after returning to the palace, she’d still have to sign the divorce papers.

Zhu Yu was utterly devastated.

She knew Bai Shuzhou had been using the children to maintain contact with the outside world. Her true home wasn’t here, but in that resplendent palace where the most brilliant starlight in the universe shone. There, with a mere wave of her hand, all things would align according to her will.

Unable to help her, Zhu Yu had never been one to simply wait.

For the day that would inevitably come, Zhu Yu felt both anticipation and dread.

Anticipation that Bai Shuzhou would reclaim her glory, no longer burdened by survival, and receive the proper treatment she deserved—the path that truly belonged to her.

Dread that she herself would be eliminated.

The Dragon Clan was powerful and mysterious, with only two remaining members in the world. Bai Shuzhou had been lured away and injured, and Emperor Bai Qianze would never forgive Zhu Yu for this.

In the original narrative, “Zhu Yu” had clung to life for a while longer by using the children. But later, she nearly kidnapped her own daughter again, hoping to use her as a hostage in a desperate attempt to secure her own safety.

That was her own daughter! How could anyone be so depraved? Such scum deserve to die!

If that were my daughter, I would…

Why am I indulging in these unrealistic fantasies again? Zhu Yu despised herself.

She swore she absolutely respected Bai Shuzhou’s personal wishes. She swore she had no ulterior motives whatsoever toward Bai Shuzhou. She swore, if she ever violated this oath, may heaven… may heaven… what lovely weather we’re having.

Such wild fantasies were pointless; they were destined to live in different worlds. Bai Shuzhou’s future was clear and glorious, while hers? If she managed to cure Bai Shuzhou and avoid getting killed in the process, she might become a repair technician, owning her own workshop like White Horse. This was Zhu Yu’s modest aspiration.

White Horse had praised her talent, and the repair parts Nangong assigned her could fetch tens of thousands of credits each. She was still learning, and though her skills were currently inconsistent, they would undoubtedly mature over time.

After all, she was aiming for the Golden Wrench Award—the highest honor for master repair technicians! The prize money was substantial enough to ensure a lifetime of comfort, and she might even secure contracts from the Military or the Imperial Family…

In her excitement, a button on her Paradis uniform popped off, nearly landing in her wine glass.

Zhu Yu had always thought the materials used for the Paradis uniforms were terrible. They ripped easily and buttons popped off at the slightest movement. Her colleagues seemed accustomed to this, casually covering their chests with a laugh when their collars gaped open. The flying buttons, however, were considered lucky charms by the interstellar smugglers who frequented the bar, and they often left generous tips.

Zhu Yu didn’t understand the underlying logic, but she clearly sensed the eyes of a regular customer, a woman she called “Sister,” light up. The woman’s gaze drifted over, landing on Zhu Yu’s inner work vest, which was buttoned up tight.

Completely covered.

The woman took the button and still left a tip, though she seemed in a foul mood. Meanwhile, Nangong’s cheerful laughter rang out nearby.

Zhu Yu secretly cursed Nangong’s smugness, but the woman twisted her wrist and offered to sew the button back on.

With a silver needle and white thread, she finished the job in mere breaths. Deliberately leaning forward, she bit the thread with her teeth, eliciting gasps of admiration from the crowd of female customers.

Zhu Yu thought the woman was actually quite nice, though she’d be even better if she didn’t try so hard to show off.

That night, Zhu Yu left work early due to Nangong’s subtle but persistent ostracization.

She didn’t dwell on having her customers stolen. After hanging up her uniform, she tiptoed to the bedside, clasped her hands before the white veil, and bowed solemnly.

“Don’t hate me, please don’t hate me… Like me, okay?” she murmured in a voice barely audible, as if casting a spell.

Unfortunately, she possessed no magic. The true night only unfolded after she fell asleep, the sky ablaze with shimmering stars.

A slender hand lifted the white veil. The woman’s beautiful eyebrows furrowed as she sniffed the air warily, detecting an unfamiliar scent.

Vines coiled twice around Zhu Yu, then climbed the coat rack, hooking the girl’s uniform.

After a long moment, those icy eyes narrowed. With a gentle flick of her jade-like knuckles, a slender vine twisted around the second button. Instantly, the surveillance device hidden within the button crumbled into dust, which drifted down in a soft rustle.

Was this a provocation?

Now she could confirm Nangong’s identity.

Damn it, a Federation spy.

What exactly was Zhu Yu’s relationship to her?