Transmigrated as the Imperial Princess's Scumbag Alpha Ex-Wife - Chapter 16

Model Worker Zhu Yu took a half-day off.

After the midday break, she reappeared with a tray of crooked, misshapen cookies. Her usually meticulous handmade cookies had transformed into bizarre shapes; even the round cat-shaped ones had become elongated.

She puffed out her chest and declared, “I made these!”

Little Shan replied expressionlessly, “I can tell.”

The girl’s voice clearly bubbled with excitement, unable to conceal her secret. Even the cookies tasted sweeter than usual.

Yesterday, she had been listless and pale. Today, her complexion remained pale, but a faint blush of excitement tinged her cheeks, resembling a freshly baked, steaming-hot, soft, fluffy loaf of bread.

Her entire face seemed to scream: Ask me! Ask me what happened!

Little Shan and Cat took a few bites of the cookies in perfect synchrony, discussing the weather, energy resources, and the Federation’s high-paying recruitment of embroiderers. In a technologically advanced society, pure craftsmanship had become highly valued, making learning a traditional skill incredibly lucrative.

For once, the two were on the same wavelength. They exchanged knowing glances as Zhu Yu grew increasingly agitated, scratching her head in frustration. Finally, Cat couldn’t suppress her laughter any longer. Turning to Zhu Yu, she asked, “Little Yu, why are you so happy?”

The girl lowered her gaze, a multitude of bubbles pressing against her chest. Yet she feigned composure, straightening her face and adopting a mature tone, lowering her voice as if a leader about to deliver a momentous address. She tapped her fingertip on the table and cleared her throat.

“I can’t say.”

I’ve raised a dragon!

A beautiful silver dragon!

Little Shan, who had been eavesdropping, tilted her head, her expression blank.

Zhu Yu, indulging in a little mischief, felt utterly delighted. She felt she possessed a secret, a secret shared with Bai Shuzhou, one that had quietly taken root and sprouted in her heart.

Although beast transformation was commonplace among Imperials and she had long known Bai Shuzhou was a dragon, when this trait manifested before her eyes, Zhu Yu suddenly realized, Ah, she’s a dragon.

Her tail couldn’t retract, perhaps due to the injury in her leg.

Aaaah, a dragon!

Her tail seemed somewhat uncontrollable, coiling around her waist and wrists.

Aaaaaah, a dragon!

Cat stroked her chin, her tone certain. “You’re in love!”

Little Shan glanced at her sideways. “Did you win the lottery?”

The girl, eager to show off, spoke vaguely, swaying slightly and twisting her fingers. “It’s all pretty much the same,” she said coyly.

“Actually, I’m quitting soon. Thank you all for your kindness these past few months! If you need anything repaired, you can find me in Gui Lane.”

She deliberately delivered the news of her departure after a moment of levity, using a dismissive, airy tone in an attempt to mask the loneliness she felt.

Having grown up in the ivory tower, the young man wasn’t accustomed to farewells. Saying goodbye to friends felt like experiencing autumn itself.

Even if it was just a brief friendship, a fleeting autumn, the cicadas were still singing their summer song.

Zhu Yu explained, “I’m quitting to go home and take care of my family. Working two jobs takes up too much time, and the bar has day shifts now. At night, I…”

“You don’t need to explain,” Little Shan interrupted.

Her reaction was remarkably calm, lacking the sentimentality Zhu Yu had imagined for a farewell. After all, turnover on the assembly line was high; they didn’t even know each other’s full or real names.

They were just passing acquaintances.

Little Shan paused, then added, “Congratulations on going home.”

Cat rested her chin in her hand, smiling warmly. “Yes! You’re so good to your family. You must come from a very loving home.”

Before leaving, Zhu Yu glanced back at the nearly pure-white nutrient solution factory. The abundant, filling nutrient solution seemed to shimmer with a sweet aftertaste in her memory.

I lied. The taste of industrial saccharin is truly awful!

Little Shan and Cat waved goodbye. As they turned to leave, Zhu Yu rushed forward and gave them each a tight hug.

She loved these full-hearted embraces—they felt so warm and real, like that moment when she bit into the cookie.

“Goodbye! Goodbye!”

These weren’t empty formalities; she genuinely hoped to see them again. Fate had half-pushed her here, compressing her confusion and helplessness into a fleeting moment. Fortunately, these chance encounters with friends had brought a glimmer of light to this otherwise monotonous experience.

Little Shan was saving up to go to the Imperial Capital. As a talented drummer, she dreamed of shining on stage someday. Cat had enrolled in an assessment class to become an embroiderer in the Federation and was also attending night school to learn to read. For now, the calligraphy she gifted Zhu Yu was still a simple sketch of a little fish.

Everyone was searching for a brand-new life.

Zhu Yu stepped on the shadow of the setting sun, each step feeling solid and reassuring. Bai Shuzhou seemed to dislike her less now. Cat had told her that when felines raise their tails, it means they’re happy, and if a tail wraps around you, it means they like you.

I wonder if that applies to dragons too?

Bai Shuzhou raised her tail and… seemed to flick Zhu Yu with it.

It didn’t hurt, just a light tap.

Is she not eating enough? She’s so thin. She could definitely eat more.

Even though she already eats a lot, it’s normal for a dragon, right? She’s probably still young among the Dragon Clan. Twenty-something is the age when you’re still growing!

Such a small tail, such a small Bai Shuzhou.

She thought again of the girl from last night’s dream: silver hair, blue eyes, impossibly cute, yet with a stern face and an air of detached compassion. I really want to pick her up and pinch her cheeks.

Beyond the faint melancholy of parting, Zhu Yu began to look forward to her new life. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to see Bai Shuzhou, making the walk home feel unusually long.

After quitting her job at the nutrient solution factory, Paradis’s night shifts became day shifts, allowing her to return home by evening. Now they would have so much more time together!

Zhu Yu had recently learned massage techniques targeting specific acupoints and had become more skilled at controlling her Ability. Bai Shuzhou’s legs had regained some sensation; when Zhu Yu applied more pressure, they would tremble slightly against her will.

“Don’t hold back,” Zhu Yu told her. “If it’s uncomfortable, just say so.”

But expressing herself seemed shameful to Bai Shuzhou. She always clenched her jaw, pretending to be nonchalant.

Even the gentlest healing Ability was still formed from Mental Power, capable of penetrating directly. Once, Zhu Yu accidentally used too much force, only realizing after the massage that Bai Shuzhou’s pajamas were damp with sweat.

Hmm, I’ve decided. Since we have more free time in the evenings now, I’ll extend the massage therapy sessions! Bai Shuzhou’s protests won’t matter.

What’s with the formalities? If she insists on thanking me, I’ll just smile faintly and adopt the aloof demeanor of a worldly sage: “No need to thank me. It was just a small favor.”

Just thinking about it made Zhu Yu laugh out loud.

She would heal him, gradually atoning for the original owner’s mistakes. This way, Bai Shuzhou wouldn’t turn to the dark side and wouldn’t kill her.

Most importantly… she would protect Bai Shuzhou while he slept!

This was a sacred mission.

Before, she had mostly worked night shifts, returning home late in the early morning. Last night was the first time she had seen Bai Shuzhou unwell, and she felt both heartache and guilt.

Falling into a nightmare could be dangerous. If one became lost in the dream realm, they might never wake up.

That’s what her sister had told her. When Zhu Yu was a child and had nightmares, her sister would often flick her forehead to wake her up—a crude method that felt more like scaring a child.

But Zhu Yu couldn’t bear the thought of Bai Shuzhou being alone during nightmares, waking up only to face an empty, dark room. That would be too lonely.

Along the way, Zhu Yu gathered some beautiful wildflowers, watered them with stream water until every leaf glistened, and then detoured to the front district to buy a cake for tonight’s celebratory meal.

To celebrate her resignation, to celebrate her new life, and to celebrate her tail finally growing!

Strictly speaking, shouldn’t it be “revealed” her tail?

Zhu Yu was completely unaware that Bai Shuzhou had been suffering from a chronic illness for years, rendering her unable to transform into her beast form. The implications of this were far more profound than Zhu Yu could imagine, yet she still felt it was a momentous occasion, like witnessing a puppy’s ears first stand erect or a fledgling bird’s maiden flight.

One small step for me, one giant leap for humankind!

Though Bai Shuzhou didn’t say so, Zhu Yu sensed her attitude had softened considerably. The harmony between them was subtle yet palpable. Bai Shuzhou was now willing to order food herself and hadn’t kicked Zhu Yu out of bed.

Perhaps it’s because her tail likes me.

Thank you, magnificent tail!

“I’m back!” Zhu Yu called out, pushing open the door. Bai Shuzhou was reading, the setting sun casting a metallic sheen on the tips of her silvery-white hair, yet the strands remained impossibly soft.

Pale blue eyes lifted slightly, brimming with a watery sheen. Instead of looking directly at Zhu Yu, Bai Shuzhou glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, a fleeting, dismissive glance, before her slender fingers slid to the next line.

So cold.

But Zhu Yu noticed the hem of Bai Shuzhou’s skirt swaying ever so slightly, a gentle rise and fall.

Just as a child learns to write—one stroke for “one,” two strokes for “two”—Zhu Yu quickly grasped the “tail language” through analogy. A raised tail meant happiness, a curled tail meant happiness, whipping it around, wagging the tip… basically, anything meant happiness.

A cold face but a wagging tail? Too adorable!

Zhu Yu happily went to cook, those pale blue eyes quietly watching her busy figure.

When the girl secretly glanced back at him, Bai Shuzhou lowered his head to read, revealing his aloof forehead framed by wisps of hair.

His tail flicked restlessly.

What’s Zhu Yu so happy about all day?

It was strange.

Had something good happened at work?

Or… was there someone making her happy?

Bai Shuzhou scrutinized every tiny movement of the girl. This coward couldn’t even kill a fish herself, always sweet-talking the boss or Helan into preparing it for her before she’d take it home. This time was no different.

Lighting the stove was like going to war. She cowered behind the pot lid, terrified the flames might leap up and bite her.

Bai Shuzhou’s gaze circled the room before landing on the ring on Zhu Yu’s finger. After a moment, he turned away, his brow slowly furrowing.

Zhu Yu loved to chatter while cooking, her voice blending with the sizzling sounds of stir-frying, creating a warm, domestic atmosphere. She talked about trivial things, like fine grains of salt stirred into the dish.

She often had these one-sided conversations, both lively and lonely, never expecting a response.

But Bai Shuzhou was listening.

Every word, every syllable, came through clearly, crisp and earnest, without needing to be traced with fingertips.

Even when Zhu Yu was just chopping a green pepper, the oil sizzling in the pan, she smiled amidst the quiet clamor. The absence of another voice felt just right, not too noisy.

Turning off the heat, plating the food, a brief silence settled over the room.

Bai Shuzhou gently parted his lips. “You resigned. You’ll miss your colleagues, Shan and Cat.”

The woman’s melodious voice, like a silver hook, drew out Zhu Yu’s unspoken thoughts. Her ears flushed, and she awkwardly pinched her wrist.

“It’s not that I’ll miss them exactly,” Zhu Yu hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s just… knowing we might never see each other again feels a bit… empty. They’re both really good people.”

Those sky-blue eyes watched Zhu Yu steadily until she finished speaking.

“But didn’t you say you quit the night shift?”

Zhu Yu fell silent.

Originally, the nutrient solution factory was her day job, and the bar was her night shift.

Bai Shuzhou remembered every word Zhu Yu had muttered, every colleague’s name.

To avoid worrying Bai Shuzhou, Zhu Yu had played a small word game, leading her to believe she had quit the bar job.

She never expected Bai Shuzhou to listen so attentively and immediately spot the loophole.

“Yes, it was the night shift! I definitely quit the night shift. From now on, I’ll be back by six every day. And… I’ll have plenty of free time in the evenings!” This part was true.

“I’ve been feeling a bit tired lately. Now that I have evenings free, we can extend our massage sessions. And… I can finally research modifications for your wheelchair…” She tried to change the subject.

“Zhu Yu, look at me.” The woman’s cold voice cut through her evasive rambling.

Vines coiled around the girl’s wrist, her pulse racing in panic. But the extra measure was unnecessary; her black-and-white eyes darted nervously, avoiding eye contact completely.

“You’re lying again.”

“Are you really that reluctant to let go?”

The suffocating silence that followed seemed to whisper a name.

The vines tightened gradually, leaving deep red marks that made Zhu Yu gasp. Bai Shuzhou’s strength seemed to have increased significantly; she could no longer break free. The ring on his finger continued to glow, its crimson light eerily intense.

Enduring the pain, Zhu Yu tried to explain, “The bar pays better…”

Bai Shuzhou sneered. “Nangong pays even better, doesn’t she?”

Every time Nangong visited, Zhu Yu would go to great lengths to lure her into the courtyard. Under the dim lighting, thick wads of cash were rolled up in her palm as the girl counted the bills one by one, her back to the door, while Nangong watched her with a smile.

His voice lowered, tinged with barely concealed anger. “Are you really that cheap?”

Zhu Yu’s pupils constricted. She had never been scolded like this by someone close to her. Biting her lip, the emotions that had been rising within her were suddenly crushed underfoot. She had been so happy today, and now Bai Shuzhou was scolding her just because of Nangong?

A crack had suddenly appeared in their tranquil private world, and that detested name had forced its way in.

“That’s money I earned through my own efforts… okay?!”

“I need money! I like money! I’ll do anything for money—is that clear enough?!”

She wasn’t as popular or generous as Nangong, the top saleswoman. Everyone loved Nangong.

Making money is so hard. Without it, you can’t even eat properly. The panic that grips you when you feel your empty pockets is overwhelming. Every time she was harassed at work, she’d think, “If only I had money, I’d throw a stack of bills in those lunatics’ faces and quit!”

But if she actually had money, she probably wouldn’t be able to part with it. After all, it’s money.

Poverty is more terrifying than fear itself.

These words might seem cheap to Bai Shuzhou, but they were everything Zhu Yu could fight for.

Seeing those pale blue eyes darken, Zhu Yu worried she’d been too harsh. She softened her tone, her drawn-out words carrying an unspoken grievance.

The woman fell silent, her gaze lowered, her lashes casting faint shadows that drifted like dark clouds in the air.

Turning her palm upward, she drew the girl closer. Vines attempted to pry open Zhu Yu’s tightly clenched hand.

Zhu Yu refused to let go, as if clutching her fragile self-respect. But the slender, snow-white hand paid her no heed, forcing her fingers open. Countless glittering jewels spilled from her fingertips, instantly illuminating the dilapidated hut.

The jewels struck the back of Zhu Yu’s hand with stinging force, clattering onto the concrete floor. Before she could think, Zhu Yu instinctively reached out to catch them, but there were too many—more than she could hold. They overflowed from her trembling palms.

Clatter, clatter.

The aloof Imperial Princess closed her eyes and asked coldly, “Is that enough?”

“Remember your place.”