Transmigrated as the Imperial Princess's Scumbag Alpha Ex-Wife - Chapter 30

The Researcher glanced down at her lunchbox, then up at Zhu Yu and Bai Shuzhou, swallowing the food in her mouth and the sudden shock with difficulty.

Even though she wasn’t sitting very close, they were still within easy sight of each other.

Zhu Yu had deliberately chosen a spot that was inconspicuous yet offered a clear, unobstructed view between them, their gazes tracing a tiny silver river across a small pot of swaying, fluorescent baby’s breath.

If they were both seated, Bai Shuzhou could faintly see Zhu Yu’s silhouette through the baby’s breath, along with her neatly tied-up hair.

This subtle, carefully planned arrangement would normally have gone unnoticed.

But at that moment, the Researcher, her head tilted back in frantic thought, resembled Zhu Yu’s freshly baked stargazy pie—still warm and steaming—as her subconscious movements led her gaze toward Bai Shuzhou.

The entire hall fell into an eerie silence, and the quiet thumping of Zhu Yu’s heartbeat echoed through the Academy of Sciences.

Oh, so this is what Zhu Yu made for the Princess to eat.

From shock to sudden realization, the act of snatching food from the dragon’s mouth made the dishes on the table seem even more enticing.

No wonder Zhu Yu had bothered to plate such ordinary fare. Though the arrangement had been jostled during transport, the radish carved into a heart was now slightly askew, its edges misaligned.

Someone had quickly snapped a photo earlier. Then, under Zhu Yu’s watchful gaze, they ceremoniously ate with a knife and fork, as meticulously as performing surgery, ensuring each bite was evenly spaced and balanced.

The researcher with the short fish-like mouth muttered, “Oh no, I think I just ate something incredibly important.”

Bai Shuzhou merely glanced over, feigning indifference. Zhu Yu remained standing, swaying gently with the baby’s breath flowers, her presence flickering like a candle in the breeze.

“Go on, Your Highness Zhu Yu,” someone whispered nearby.

“The Princess is waiting for you, Your Highness!”

A researcher adjusted his glasses. “Didn’t you come here specifically for this?”

“Well, yeah. The Princess never eats in public areas. Even the past few days, only Your Highness Zhu Yu has been dining outside…”

The crowd openly whispered, tossing small matches into the awkwardly smoldering bonfire. With a faint pop, the embers flickered back to life.

Zhu Yu maintained her proud stance, lifting her gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line, projecting an air of indomitable youthful spirit.

After all, the Academy of Sciences doesn’t have any burrows, and I’m not a mole. I can’t just dig one right here in front of everyone.

Zhu Yu held her pose for a moment longer, then took a deep breath.

The Researcher sitting at her table was visibly tense, her thoughts racing.

Zhu Yu took another deep breath.

It was strange. When she had voluntarily stepped onto the podium that day, facing countless reporters and flashing cameras, her heart hadn’t pounded this wildly. It felt like all her emotions had been overturned, swirling across her burning heart, only to be caramelized into a sugary glaze.

Finally, Zhu Yu, with one hand casually tucked into her pocket, moved.

She flashed her signature sunny smile and approached Bai Shuzhou. The Snow Leopard Knight wisely didn’t try to stop her.

In those dozen or so steps, she had mentally rehearsed every possible scenario: how to start the conversation, how to find a topic, how to spread her Peacock’s tail.

Though Zhu Yu outwardly dismissed Feng Jiyan’s “perfect strategies” with disdain and harsh words, she had secretly devoured them, extracting the essence while discarding the dross.

Her aura radiated unwavering confidence, as if victory were already assured. Your Highness the Princess remained as immovable as a mountain, while Zhu Yu moved toward her like the rising sun.

The moment of history had arrived! The crowd held their breath involuntarily.

“Hi, how did you sleep last night? Did you enjoy lunch? If you’re still hungry, I’ll make you more. I’ve become quite skilled at preparing your favorites, and I’ve even learned carving. My pheromone, the one that belongs to you, has faded a little… Wife… I miss you so much.”

A thousand words, a blend of tenderness, coquettishness, and veiled intimacy. The manuals had stressed the importance of gradual progression, emphasizing the need to carefully modulate tone and rhythm.

The young woman’s voice was slightly hoarse, yet even more poised than during her speeches. It coalesced into a single sentence:

“Hi, Wife.”

“……”

That’s it?

The researchers, who had been itching to cheer her on, nearly choked. After all that build-up, just one sentence? Hadn’t she been quite articulate on television?

Zhu Yu was so nervous, her heart overflowing with longing, that she took a line from the beginning and another from the end, creating a crude, condensed version of her feelings.

The disparity was as vast as that between her carrot heart and the lavish feast of delicacies spread across the table before her.

She lowered her head, still clutching a pair of chopsticks.

Bai Shuzhou remained silent, unsure how to respond.

No. Wife…?

In despair, Zhu Yu abandoned all pretense, her voice losing its composure. She rubbed her hands together and asked shyly, “Can I eat with you?”

If Feng Jiyan had been watching the surveillance cameras at that moment, he would likely have fainted from rage.

He had meticulously placed people around Bai Shuzhou to spread tales of Zhu Yu’s remarkable achievements and their romantic first encounter. While the truth of these stories remained uncertain, they had crafted a flawless, inspiring image of a heroic young woman. Who wouldn’t be drawn to such a spirited youth?

Yet Zhu Yu had effortlessly shattered this carefully constructed facade.

It was as if a crack had appeared in that perfect, almost artificial statue of a heroic figure, allowing a tender green sprout to emerge.

Bai Shuzhou narrowed her eyes, the corners of her long, slender eyes tilting upward slightly. She neither agreed nor refused.

White Bird secretly glanced at Bai Shuzhou, then enthusiastically patted Zhu Yu, clearly inviting her to join them.

Zhu Yu smoothly took her seat, and the atmosphere settled into an awkward, subtle tension. However, White Bird truly buried herself in her meal, her ethereal aura seemingly transcending the mortal realm. She devoured everything placed in her bowl without hesitation.

Bai Shuzhou added meat to her bowl, which she ate. Then vegetables, which she also ate.

Perhaps all white-haired beings were naturally aloof. At this large table—no, more accurately, around this entire circle—Zhu Yu was the only one speaking.

Zhu Yu racked her brain, sharing fond memories from her past. Bai Shuzhou remained unmoved, her slender fingers tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear, revealing her pale, delicate earlobe.

She slowed her eating pace, taking smaller portions herself and focusing on filling White Bird’s bowl.

As Bai Shuzhou added food, Zhu Yu followed suit. Though she was technically freeloading, a balanced meal couldn’t hurt.

The poor White Bird looked like a child caught in the middle of a cold war between adults. Her bowl piled into a small mountain until she finally, helplessly, tilted her head back, her expression blank. Unable to burp, she gently exhaled a tiny fireball.

“Ah, are you full? If you’re full, don’t eat anymore. Don’t upset your stomach,” Zhu Yu said, pouring her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice to soothe her throat.

Bai Shuzhou’s indifferent expression softened slightly, her eyelashes drooping gently as she uttered a dignified, monosyllabic “Mm.”

Before White Bird sat a glass of milk Bai Shuzhou had pushed toward her, along with a small bowl of bird’s nest and cordyceps soup.

White Bird froze, as if stuck in place.

The manager at the next table, unable to bear the oppressive atmosphere any longer, approached the pair despite the inexplicably tense air. He shoved a strip of digestive tablets into White Bird’s hand and hastily carried her away.

With White Bird gone, only Zhu Yu and Bai Shuzhou remained, and the atmosphere grew even colder.

It was only then that Zhu Yu realized Bai Shuzhou’s icy elegance ran deep to the bone, as if radiating a chill. Even sitting so close, she lacked the haughtiness of typical nobles, yet still maintained an air of aloofness that kept others at arm’s length.

Like the indifferent, boundless sky, encompassing all things yet caring for none.

Zhu Yu suspected that their initial connection had been a fluke. In that unfamiliar environment, Bai Shuzhou had been forced to rely on her, which was why… She didn’t want to think about it anymore.

During the meal, Bai Shuzhou was as beautiful as a jade statue, her delicate features veiled by a hazy, ethereal white gauze that couldn’t conceal the innate nobility in her every gesture.

Even the way she lightly dabbed her lips with a handkerchief, the small red mole on her wrist flashing briefly, was enough to make one’s heart skip a beat.

The Snow Leopard Knights, who had been guarding her perimeter, closed in, each presenting her with a magnificent, translucent handwashing basin and a warm towel in turn.

This is too extravagant, Zhu Yu thought, rooted to the spot. She suddenly recalled a childhood joke about a poor man attending a noble’s banquet who mistakenly drank the water meant for rinsing his mouth before the meal.

Times have changed, she mused. The handwashing basin was large enough to avoid being mistaken for a cup, yet not so vast that the flustered little fish might jump in for a scented bath.

Bai Shuzhou glanced at her with a casual lift of her eyes, deliberately slowing her movements. Her jade-like fingertips trailed through the clear water, gradually submerging until the knuckles flushed a delicate pink.

Zhu Yu’s heart raced again. Perhaps she should get checked for arrhythmia.

This was dangerous.

Only after the bright moon had departed did the researchers swarm around Zhu Yu, geniuses from various fields eagerly assisting her with her research.

From psychology to criminal profiling, one researcher even pulled out a notebook from who-knows-where and began recording the minute changes in the duo’s expressions in real-time, noting the detailed discrepancies to aid Zhu Yu’s decision-making.

Zhu Yu’s ears flushed crimson with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, but she politely declined their help.

You might as well rename the Academy of Sciences the Gossip Academy!

Yet these intellectual powerhouses weren’t entirely useless. Led by the blond-haired researcher who had drawn Zhu Yu’s bl00d that day, they managed to unearth a crucial clue: White Bird and Bai Shuzhou had likely known each other since their early days at the Academy of Sciences.

Although all records and experimental data from that era had been sealed and destroyed, it was impossible to erase every trace. By piecing together fragments of information—serial numbers, timestamps, inventory consumption—Zhu Yu realized that with a little more time, she could deduce even more valuable insights.

The young researcher marveled at her own discovery, seemingly even more delighted than Zhu Yu herself. She immediately created a new discussion group.

Someone glanced around hesitantly, belatedly realizing, “Isn’t this against the rules?”

The blonde-haired researcher cautiously replied, “Then let’s just not report the discovery.”

They hadn’t collaborated much before, and there was a degree of mutual disdain among them.

However, Zhu Yu’s arrival had surprisingly bridged this gap. Though her thinking was a bit slow, she had experience with group collaboration, a strong reputation, genuine enthusiasm for praising others, and excellent coordination skills.

After a moment’s thought, Zhu Yu changed the group chat name from the cold, clinical “Investigation Number” to “Loving One-Worlders.”

“This will make it less likely to arouse suspicion,” she explained.

The researchers stared at her, their expressions unreadable. Had some stat just been lowered?

Zhu Yu felt awkward accepting their help without offering anything in return, but she had nothing of value to give.

She didn’t know the original owner’s payment password and didn’t want to touch the jewels Bai Shuzhou had left her. So she could only shyly promise them the moon, shake each of their hands, and vow to repay them handsomely once she succeeded.

Competition within the Academy of Sciences was fierce—it was either advance or be dismissed. Most of the researchers gathered here were ordinary citizens, young, and held little real power.

The blonde woman waved her hand magnanimously. “No need for thanks, Your Highness. You’re too kind. We’re all Loving One-Worlders here.”

“Striving for the rights of the common people!”

This burden is far too heavy. Otherwise, I’d still be polite.

Just as Zhu Yu was about to breathe a sigh of relief, she tensed up again, shaking their hands even more vigorously.

Before parting, someone quietly slipped Zhu Yu a vial of reagent. It was said that drinking it would stimulate pheromone production, making her smell irresistible to her partner.

Highly compatible pheromones naturally attract each other, but everyone knew Zhu Yu’s pheromones were faint, her body still carrying mostly the Princess’s rose scent.

To let an Omega leave such a strong scent on her—Zhu Yu was likely the first Alpha to ever do that.

The researcher reluctantly told Zhu Yu that they had originally planned to use her as a research subject to analyze how her comprehensive Mental Power level influenced abnormal changes in her pheromones. Zhu Yu’s head swam just hearing the title of the study. Fortunately, since it involved a member of the Imperial Family, this sensitive proposal was vetoed.

After spending an entire afternoon immersed in the company of highly intelligent individuals, Zhu Yu still felt a bit dizzy.

In truth, she wasn’t jealous of White Bird at all. Why would she care about these… these… these things? It was just that Bai Shuzhou, who usually wore a cold expression, smiled only at White Bird, uniquely and exclusively served her food, and even sternly instructed the staff to take good care of White Bird. He didn’t look away until White Bird had left…

Wait, they’re just friends, childhood friends who spent long days together during their illnesses. This is perfectly normal! Zhu Yu insisted to herself. I don’t care about any of this!

When Zhu Yu was hospitalized as a child, her sister came to take care of her, and she had felt that they would be the best in the world together forever.

She only felt a slight twinge of concern that, to Bai Shuzhou, she might no longer be the unique and irreplaceable one.

Zhu Yu had never feared walking alone, but after briefly walking side-by-side with someone, the solitary journey stretched endlessly before her.

She feared that if she walked a path all the way to its end, only to find no one waiting for her beneath the lamp, she would be heartbroken.

She dreaded competition and conflict, habitually avoiding them from the start. In truth, she was simply terrified of possessing something only to lose it, the fall from grace too steep to bear.

Zhu Yu warmed the vial of reagent in her hands, but ultimately couldn’t bring herself to open it.

That night, she entered Bai Shuzhou’s room. Her sleeping beauty remained in her serene and elegant pose, time flowing gently over her shallow breaths.

Zhu Yu knew she wasn’t asleep, just as she knew the slowly tightening grip beneath the thin blanket meant she was waiting for something too.

As the seconds ticked by, Zhu Yu thought, If Bai Shuzhou still had her tail, it would give me a subtle signal of permission. Then I would charge forward, relentless as a hero or a scoundrel, clinging to her like a leech.

But that little tail that had once adored her was gone, leaving only the cold, icy Bai Shuzhou.

How could I possibly make a Bai Shuzhou on the verge of amnesia change her mind in just a few days? It’s like trying to melt a block of solid ice in winter—utterly impossible!

No wonder Bai Qianze had stopped bothering her. Zhu Yu’s future seemed to lead only to death.

If Bai Shuzhou didn’t love her, she’d be better off planning her escape sooner rather than later. It didn’t matter if she had to flee in disgrace; at least she’d survive.

Without her, Bai Shuzhou would still have a bright and glorious future. Though Zhu Yu didn’t know how to achieve it, perhaps it had nothing to do with her anyway.

Staying with Bai Shuzhou seemed to bring her no happiness, only added risks and unexpected crises.

Zhu Yu was a master of avoidance. Since childhood, she’d never harbored grand ambitions. While others dreamed of becoming astronauts or groundbreaking scientists, Zhu Yu had always thought, “Ah, I want to be a life researcher!”

You know, the kind of person who specializes in figuring out how to live more comfortably—what people call a lazy person.

After mentally retreating eight hundred times, Zhu Yu quietly gazed at Bai Shuzhou’s sleeping face. The cold aura had faded, and her silky silver hair cascaded down her neck like the flawless white plumage of a swan.

Zhu Yu could imagine how beautiful Bai Shuzhou would look dancing, like soft snow falling in the depths of winter.