Transmigrated as the Imperial Princess's Scumbag Alpha Ex-Wife - Chapter 19

As the first rays of dawn filtered into the cabin, Zhu Yu caught a faint scent of roses. Her nose twitched, but she didn’t immediately wake up.

Perhaps this is the last time we’ll be alone together.

She cherished these moments, longing to say something but unsure how to begin. So, while Bai Shuzhou slept, she gently healed her for a long time.

“I’m sorry… I still couldn’t fix your leg.”

As she withdrew her hand, the warm light gradually faded from her palm, as if the distance between them was growing wider.

Zhu Yu didn’t realize Bai Shuzhou had been awake the entire time. She wasn’t the only one struggling to sleep.

These aimless sighs landed heavily on Bai Shuzhou’s heart.

Zhu Yu was of mixed heritage, a citizen of both nations, a unique position that had become increasingly precarious during the years of strained relations between the two countries.

On this backward planet, where people were preoccupied with survival, the boundaries between nations had blurred. But the Little Oriole’s fate had shattered the dream of peaceful coexistence.

The Star Pirates possessed Federal Military weapons, and Nangong had bailed them out… Bai Shuzhou habitually listed the facts one by one, each clue circling back to Zhu Yu, ending with a question mark.

Who exactly is she? What does she want? Bai Shuzhou had no idea.

Yet Zhu Yu had timed her departure perfectly, leaving just before the security team arrived.

Was it truly just a coincidence?

She loathed this feeling of helplessness, even more than being deceived.

When Zhu Yu reluctantly opened her eyes, she immediately met Bai Shuzhou’s icy gaze.

She didn’t know how long Bai Shuzhou had been watching her, but faint dark circles shadowed her eyes. Her expression was blank, and the atmosphere around her was oppressively cold.

“What’s wrong? You’re going home soon. Aren’t you happy?” Zhu Yu nervously fidgeted with her fingers.

Bai Shuzhou remained silent.

“Are you hungry?” Zhu Yu asked again.

Bai Shuzhou watched as Zhu Yu, with practiced ease, extended both hands, offering a choice: “Yes” or “No.”

Having already learned that this was how humans communicated with small animals, Bai Shuzhou’s gaze grew even colder. She stared directly into Zhu Yu’s eyes, unwavering.

She’s a Dragon!

Refusing to communicate? But why? Zhu Yu racked her brain, then suddenly slapped her forehead, scrambled to her feet, and pulled a dress from her neatly packed luggage.

How could I let the Imperial Princess return home wearing someone else’s old clothes?!

This was a gift she had prepared for her, though it felt a bit too formal. It wasn’t worth hundreds of thousands of credits, nor was it particularly unique.

Back when she had just saved up a little money, she had swept her hand grandly through the Underground City recommended by Cat, declaring, “Give me the most expensive one!” The shopkeeper had then plucked a few dresses from the wall for her to choose from.

The V-neck dress featured a gradient white fabric and an irregularly cinched waist, supposedly more comfortable for Imperials with tails.

“Let me help you change, okay?” Zhu Yu approached cautiously, her voice softening unconsciously, carrying a hint of unconscious coaxing. “You’ll look so beautiful in it… I mean, you look beautiful in anything!”

“Good, not good.”

Before Zhu Yu could fully extend her hands, Bai Shuzhou grasped her hand for the first time.

“Okay.”

Bai Shuzhou gripped Zhu Yu’s hand tightly, as if letting go would mean losing something precious. Zhu Yu winced slightly at the pressure.

Realizing her lapse in composure, Bai Shuzhou quickly released Zhu Yu’s hand and fixed her gaze elsewhere, her expression blank. The intense touch might as well have been a dream.

When Bai Shuzhou was in a foul mood, she rarely spoke, her lips pressed into a tight line. A veil of mist seemed to shroud her, the cold white of the glass bottle obscuring her true self.

For a fleeting moment, Zhu Yu longed to grasp Bai Shuzhou’s hand again, to wipe away that veil of aloofness.

But Bai Shuzhou had withdrawn too quickly, and Zhu Yu’s own hesitation had created a gap of two breaths between them. Any further move now would seem forced, intrusive.

Besides, with their impending separation, Zhu Yu dared not dwell on such thoughts.

She awkwardly withdrew her hand, lowered her gaze, and helped Bai Shuzhou change clothes without looking up. Then, she pushed the pastries given by Little Oriole’s family toward Bai Shuzhou and recited their itinerary like a mantra:

“I’m heading out now. I’ll be back soon. We’re going to Seventh Port at ten o’clock—”

As the door clicked shut, the woman, who had remained silent the entire time, lowered her gaze to the hand Zhu Yu had just held. Her little finger unconsciously curled, then slowly tightened into a fist.

Zhu Yu slipped a letter containing some money into Helan’s shop. Afterward, she rushed to the nutrient solution factory to find Cat and warn her against attending the suspicious training class.

She had spent the entire journey rehearsing how to make her warning more forceful, but Cat didn’t ask many questions. Though initially disappointed, she quickly cheered herself up.

“There’s no such thing as a free lunch, after all,” Cat muttered, patting Zhu Yu’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll spread the word and warn everyone to be careful!”

Zhu Yu glanced around. “Isn’t Little Shan here?” Little Shan’s steady nature always brought her comfort. Though she often had a sharp tongue, she was genuinely caring toward her colleagues.

Cat tilted her head. “She took the day off to audition for a band.”

“……”

The two exchanged a look, a shared sense of foreboding rising between them.

“Well, don’t worry too much,” Cat said. “Little Shan’s so smart—she’s the least likely person to fall for a scam!”

Zhu Yu nodded reluctantly. Tonight was the auction Little Oriole had mentioned, but even if Little Shan had been captured, what could she do? She could barely protect herself.

If only I were braver.

If only I were stronger.

Cat waved from behind. “Goodbye! Take care of yourself too!”

Zhu Yu waved back, this time without turning around.

For the first time, she noticed that as she ran through the crooked, old streets, the flowers lining the road formed a straight line. In this impoverished, backward place, people had planted a continuous riot of blossoms.

Inside the room, the woman in the white dress gripped the table, struggling to stand up. She staggered, the wooden table creaked and wobbled, and the glass vase crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

After a moment of silence, vines gently gathered the shards and placed them back on the table.

She glanced down. The hem of her dress was stained with splashed water—the cleaner the color, the easier it was to soil.

Bai Shuzhou frowned, her fingertips digging into the table until they turned white. The vines surged wildly, gripping the table tightly as they forced her to her feet.

No matter what, she refused to relinquish control.

If she could just leave this room, hide, and wait for the guards to arrive, she would be safe. It shouldn’t take too long.

Then she would have ample time to interrogate everyone and unravel all the confusion and suspicion.

Zhu Yu continued to sprint down the narrow path.

She weaved through the old streets, cutting the originally long journey in half.

Her mind raced with wild thoughts, jumping from interstellar pirates to warships. She filled the emptiness in her heart with all sorts of nonsense, trying to suppress fantasies she shouldn’t be entertaining.

But her thoughts inevitably drifted back to the question: If she disappeared and refused to sign the divorce confirmation, would those unseen rivals rush to declare her dead?

Being widowed sounded so much better than divorced.

Then she wouldn’t just be Bai Shuzhou’s ex-wife in name only—she’d be his late wife!

Zhu Yu took a deep breath, amused by the absurdity of the idea.

How pathetic, Zhu Yu! And utterly despicable.

She couldn’t let Bai Shuzhou see such a defeated smile. Patting her cheeks, she turned her face to the sun, forcing a bright smile until her face felt warm and flushed. Only then did she push open the door.

Perhaps this was the most successful rendition of her signature smile yet—tinged with nervousness, excitement, and anticipation, her clear eyes sparkling with the lingering warmth of the sun.

“I’m back!”

The door swung open, and her smile froze on her face.

A woman leaned against the grimy wall, slumped on the floor, her pale blue eyes filled with wary alertness.

Only shock, no joy.

Zhu Yu’s return was far sooner than Bai Shuzhou had anticipated.

The wheelchair stood alone at an angle in the corner, a shattered glass bottle lying nearby.

Zhu Yu rushed over to help her up, carefully examining her. “Are you hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Were you trying to get something? Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped you.”

Though she had been looking forward to this moment for so long, Zhu Yu had been too shy to meet Bai Shuzhou’s gaze while changing. She kept glancing at the hem of the skirt and the sleeves.

Now, finally seeing Bai Shuzhou in the full white dress, she found her even more beautiful than she had imagined.

Despite the dress being stained, the woman instinctively recoiled as Zhu Yu approached, as if they were back at the beginning, when she had been hiding in the closet, battered and bruised.

It was a subtle flinch, quickly suppressed by Bai Shuzhou, but the unconscious reaction spread through the cramped space like a swarm of tiny needles. Zhu Yu stepped closer, her bare feet treading on them one by one.

She paused, then quickly regained her smile, her tone light and cheerful. “I’m sorry I came back late.”

Bai Shuzhou frowned. When Zhu Yu was thinking, her eyes would flicker with intensity, but now she deliberately kept them lowered. After pondering for a moment, she draped the blanket over Bai Shuzhou’s legs, slowly placing her hands on her knees, a warm glow enveloping them.

Doubt was a sharp emotion, and Zhu Yu understood it all too well. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but she ultimately asked nothing, unwilling to hear Bai Shuzhou say it herself. Instead, she buried her head in her work, focusing intently on the healing process.

Perhaps this was the only thing she had to offer, the only thing that truly mattered to her.

She had promised her she would heal her leg. There was still a debt between them, but no time left to repay it.

The way Bai Shuzhou had scrutinized her earlier replayed in her mind, over and over. That gaze, cold and unfamiliar, as if she were looking at a thief. Just this morning, they had held hands. Why? Why had everything suddenly changed?

Or had it all been wishful thinking on her part? Had Bai Shuzhou been living in fear all along? After all, she had done such terrible things to her.

She doesn’t trust me, Zhu Yu thought, understanding completely.

Bai Shuzhou paused, her tail flicking restlessly. In a cold voice, she asked, “Zhu Yu, why are you crying?”

The girl lowered her head, her voice thick with tears as she replied, “I’m not crying!”

She had wanted to leave with a cooler memory, waving casually, pretending not to care, pretending to be in control, shouting a loud goodbye that the wind would carry away and blur.

Then, in Bai Shuzhou’s memories, she would gradually fade into obscurity, slowly being replaced and disappearing altogether.

Just like a dream, she would eventually wake up.

Well, for Bai Shuzhou, it might be more like a nightmare!

The dignified Imperial Princess, kidnapped by her crazed ex-wife and dragged to a Garbage Planet, forced to swallow her pride and endure it all to survive. She had to suppress her pain and desperately try to escape, only to stumble and fall. In that moment, she secretly vowed to make her pay for every drop of bl00d she had shed.

Bai Shuzhou watched helplessly as the girl’s sobs grew more desperate, the years of pent-up grievances finally erupting. Her hair fell limply, swaying like a tail as she slumped down, utterly dejected.

The vines offered a handkerchief, their voice cold as they commanded, “Stop crying.”

It was useless.

How could such a small fish have so many tears?

She was practically crying a lake of sorrow.

Was this all an act, or had Bai Shuzhou misjudged her?

The vines pulled her closer, forcing her to calm down. Bai Shuzhou suppressed the strange irritation rising within her, pressed the handkerchief against the girl’s tear-soaked eyes, and softened her tone in a reluctant compromise. “Stop crying.”

Through the thin cloth, her fingers quickly became damp with tears.

She noticed the little fish blink slowly, the subtle rhythm sending a strange imbalance through her heart, tilting it inexplicably in a certain direction.

The woman’s fragrance wafted toward her from Bai Shuzhou’s wrist.

With her eyes covered, Zhu Yu’s other senses grew even more acute.

She bit her lip, letting Bai Shuzhou gently wipe away her tears through the handkerchief. It felt as if this gesture was sealing the tiny rift that had just formed between them, drawing them close again.

Is she… comforting me?

Zhu Yu dared not blink, afraid of shattering this dream.

She wiped her face, desperate to regain some composure. Even if she couldn’t achieve the pitiful beauty of pear blossoms drenched in rain, she at least wanted to avoid looking like a snot-nosed mess.

But she couldn’t control it.

The gentler Bai Shuzhou was, the more Zhu Yu wanted to cry.

Why are you looking at me like that? Are you so eager to escape? Was that “we” not an invitation, but a test?

I’m not standing in the way of your happiness. I’ve always been obedient and won’t cling to you.

Just as a shaky sigh escaped her throat, a grape was suddenly popped into her mouth.

The plump, round grape pressed against her soft tongue as Bai Shuzhou’s slender, pale fingers brushed lightly against her lips. The noise stopped.

Zhu Yu froze, her wide, black-and-white eyes glistening with moisture. Bai Shuzhou couldn’t help but suspect that one of her parents might have been a therapy dog—the kind that was both not very bright and prone to tears.

A therapy dog that needed therapy.

How could an Alpha be such a crybaby?

How could Zhu Yu be like this?

Her teeth bit into the grape, releasing a burst of sweet juice that exploded in her mouth. It was so sweet, Zhu Yu thought, almost like it carried the fragrance of roses.

The tips of her ears flushed crimson.

Bai Shuzhou watched her quietly, then suddenly said, “I’ve poisoned you.”

“Ah,” Zhu Yu gasped.

The soft, warm sensation still lingered on her lips and teeth, the sweet juice having just slid down her throat.

Seeing the girl’s bewildered expression, Bai Shuzhou felt a cruel flicker of satisfaction. Her voice remained calm as she continued:

“If you betray me, your intestines will rot—”

Her icy fingertips pressed against Zhu Yu’s chest, sliding downward as she coldly uttered terrifying words: “Your organs will corrode, your skin will ulcerate, and you’ll die fully conscious.”

Zhu Yu’s face went completely blank.

After a brief pause, she doubled over, clutching her throat and coughing violently, desperate to expel the sweet poison she had just swallowed.

But the fruit pulp had already been greedily swallowed, leaving a lingering sweetness in her mouth—and the memory of those hands, those hands that had gently touched her lips…

Was she destined to be killed by her?

Seeing Zhu Yu’s extreme reaction, the slight upward curve of Bai Shuzhou’s lips vanished completely.

The vines tightened around the girl, and Bai Shuzhou gazed down at her, her voice low and demanding:

“Now, what do you want to say to me?”

Facing death, Zhu Yu had so much she wanted to say, but after all the twists and turns in her mind, only one sentence remained.

“I… I love you…!”

I love you.

I love you!

The echo faded.

Both fell silent, a deathly stillness settling between them.

This was the worst possible moment for a confession, sounding more like a plea for mercy before death. Realizing this, Zhu Yu wanted to slap herself, but her limbs were bound by the vines. Now she was cradled in the woman’s arms like a baby, utterly humiliated, with nowhere to hide.

Forced to meet Bai Shuzhou’s gaze, she could only stare into those eyes.

A searing pain shot through her heart, suffocating her. Yet, through her blurred vision, Bai Shuzhou looked even more beautiful. Her long silver hair swayed gently like a spring breeze, casting shadows over her pale blue eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Zhu Yu blurted out, unsure why she was apologizing. The oppressive atmosphere compelled her to say something, anything.

“I was just joking!”

Zhu Yu, ever timid, tried to backtrack, but Bai Shuzhou spoke first. A faint smile curved her thin lips, as if her mood had lifted slightly. Her cool, crisp voice softened, curling into a playful lilt:

“It was just a joke.”

Poisoning was just a joke.

The woman leaned closer, silver strands of hair sliding across Zhu Yu’s neck and collarbone. Too close—

Her cool fingertips gripped Zhu Yu’s chin, yet her breath was warm, brushing delicately against her ear. The scent of her perfume mingled with the strands of hair, caressing Zhu Yu’s heart and sending shivers down her spine. Zhu Yu forgot everything she wanted to say.

Genuine affection or cruel pretense, it melted into the space between them, coalescing into beads of sweat and whispered words of love that dripped coldly into the hollow of her neck, sliding downward:

“If that day ever comes, I will kill you with my own hands.”