Transmigrated as the Imperial Princess's Scumbag Alpha Ex-Wife - Chapter 34

Social interaction can be a tool or an instinct.

The original owner of this body belonged to the former category, always effortlessly cultivating the relationships they desired. Zhu Yu, on the other hand, belonged to the latter, reacting like an NPC—poke her, and she’d jump.

The “inheritance” of social connections and resources was overwhelming. Zhu Yu casually clicked on a few messages and discovered that they contained not only sincere condolences but also repeated, heartfelt inquiries about bringing gifts for a visit.

During Zhu Yu’s confinement for recovery, Melno must have been incredibly busy. She had to thwart scheming conspirators while tactfully dissuading tearful ladies who seemed to be mourning Zhu Yu’s death.

Zhu Yu had initially thought Melno resembled a stern headmistress, but now she felt that the fact Melno hadn’t strangled her outright was an act of extraordinary tolerance.

The original owner’s social network was absurdly vast, as if they were collecting some kind of social encyclopedia. From Noble Councilors to street food vendors, every profession and social stratum was represented.

The sheer volume of contacts made Zhu Yu, a social anxiety sufferer, almost suspect her original self had been bound to some kind of “Sea King’s Guide” system, where failing to flirt would result in electric shocks.

The chat logs with others hadn’t been deleted, and now they lay bare before Zhu Yu’s eyes.

Cut ties decisively! I absolutely can’t repeat the Scumbag A’s mistakes!

Zhu Yu took several deep breaths before summoning the courage to click. She had expected to find explicit and suggestive messages.

Instead, her original self’s communication style proved surprisingly different from Zhu Yu’s preconceived notions of a flamboyant “Sea King.”

Their messaging styles were actually quite similar, both using cute emoticons and endearing tone markers. However, the original Zhu Yu was far more proactive, effortlessly controlling the rhythm of conversations with an undeniable charisma.

If Zhu Yu hadn’t known the real person and only seen these records, she would likely have thought “her” to be a gentle and kind soul.

She was gentle and erudite, maintaining a humble demeanor even after achieving fame. She never bothered to conceal her desires, approaching even competition with unwavering honesty.

No wonder Bai Shuzhou had liked her back then…

In a daze, Zhu Yu felt like a frog finally lifting its head to see the well’s mouth and the blue sky. Her throat tickled, as if she were about to croak and blow bubbles.

Asking a nobody like her to play the role of a scumbag A heartthrob was really pushing it.

Zhu Yu agonized over how to reply for half an hour, then, lost in thought, she couldn’t help but click back into her chat window with Bai Shuzhou.

It was completely empty, save for the newly signed electronic agreement.

Wiped clean. The original owner had left no trace of Bai Shuzhou, except for the contact name.

Zhu Yu suddenly grew curious about how they had met and fallen in love.

Even though this urge to pry felt somewhat base, almost self-torturous.

They had identical faces, but their personalities were worlds apart. Zhu Yu couldn’t understand why Bai Shuzhou had liked her.

All she knew was that from the moment she first saw Bai Shuzhou, time had truly begun to flow for her, and the entire world seemed to have been suddenly illuminated.

It felt like a destined reunion, a moment she had been waiting for an eternity.

The young woman rubbed her burning cheeks and buried her face in the pillow, trying to suppress her chaotic thoughts.

No matter what, one must look forward. Dwelling on the past only traps you.

Besides, she had money now! Her current circumstances were far better than when she had been stranded in the Chaos Zone. At least she no longer had to worry about going hungry.

Zhu Yu arranged the research data she had obtained from the Researcher on the bed, organizing them chronologically. She meticulously reviewed each document, using her Light Brain to search for unfamiliar terms.

Every profession is like a mountain to cross. Even with advanced technology, she could only grasp the general gist. Moreover, Bai Shuzhou’s condition was highly unusual; there were hardly any similar cases documented online.

According to the data, Bai Shuzhou’s condition had remained remarkably stable. Even the brief spike before his amnesia quickly subsided, and none of the test results showed any evidence of the Emperor’s “intervention.”

Feng Jiyan had told her everything about Bai Shuzhou and Bai Qianze. But that fox was inherently untrustworthy.

If Bai Shuzhou hadn’t specifically warned her before losing his memory, Zhu Yu might have foolishly followed Feng Jiyan’s manipulations.

Before, Zhu Yu had been naive, believing everyone was good. She hadn’t realized that conspiracies and schemes often disguised themselves in the sweetest guises.

This world was too complex. Zhu Yu tapped the report, counting on her fingers, wishing Bai Shuzhou would regain his memories soon. Then she would surely find a way to resolve everything.

As for Feng Jiyan… when would she finally make progress?

Her fingertip paused on a particular number. Zhu Yu froze, then suddenly sprang up, pressing the medical reports back together.

The data’s suspicious stability and regularity were almost too perfect, as if… meticulously fabricated.

To facilitate comparison, she had specifically requested old reports from several years ago. Yet even the discrepancies between those past values and the latest data remained within an exquisitely controlled range.

Could it be that for a very long time, everything had been under someone’s control?

A chill ran down Zhu Yu’s spine. She rubbed the goosebumps on her arms, suddenly feeling grateful for Bai Shuzhou and all her other friends.

Thank goodness I have so many friends!

Zhu Yu crossed her legs, her expression serious. With too many messages to reply to individually, she posted a general update saying she was fine and thanking everyone for their concern.

Thanks to the original owner’s meticulously detailed notes, Zhu Yu had a thorough understanding of her social connections. Some entries even included how they had met. Armed with this “Sea King’s Guide,” she figured it would be easier to ask people for favors.

However, to avoid raising suspicion, she would likely have to spend the entire night memorizing these details…

Money makes the world go round. Zhu Yu opened her banking app, intending to withdraw some funds. She’d spent a considerable amount on groceries and meat these past few days. The Imperial Star’s prices were exorbitant, and she’d already drained most of the cash the original owner had left behind.

But the dreaded security prompt popped up again. No matter how many times Zhu Yu scanned her face, fingerprint, or iris, the Light Brain remained stubbornly unresponsive, coldly demanding a password.

Damn it! It’s just a little money. Why so much security? You’re such a show-off!

Zhu Yu glanced at the time. The bank hadn’t closed yet. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her coat and bolted out the door.

After all, I’m supposed to have amnesia. It should seem perfectly normal to bring my ID and ask for a password reset, right?

The attendant didn’t ask any questions and swiftly delivered Zhu Yu to her destination. With a casual wave, the young woman tossed the remaining coins from her pocket to the attendant.

(She kept the banknotes, though.)

“Thank you for your hard work, friend! Here, have some candy!”

The nobles had a culture of tipping, ostensibly to stimulate the economy. Zhu Yu, suddenly wealthy, wasn’t motivated by any altruistic desire to give back to society.

She had just signed her marriage contract and was bursting with joy, but unable to share the news openly. This was her subtle way of celebrating.

The attendant glanced down. Three banknotes and two coins—exactly fifty-two credits.

Zhu Yu had already wandered off, her cheerful silhouette resembling a koi about to leap over the Dragon Gate.

The Bank Manager, having received the alert, was already waiting anxiously at the entrance.

The newly laid red carpet was so vibrant it seemed to bleed color, and even the holographic screens had been specially changed to display footage of Zhu Yu’s speech from that day.

As Zhu Yu stepped through the door, she found herself face-to-face with her own image on the floating screen. Staring at the confident, spirited young woman on the screen, she felt a sudden sense of unfamiliarity.

She had never realized she could look so striking. Once she made up her mind, her usual timidity and gentleness transformed into unwavering resolve, a steely glint in her eyes.

“Princess Zhu Yu—!!” The crowd surged forward, their voices ringing with enthusiasm.

“No need to call me ‘Your Highness’!” Zhu Yu waved her hands frantically.

The overwhelming fervor nearly overwhelmed her. Fortunately, the practiced smile she had perfected during her time working at Paradis helped her maintain her composure. The crowd, like sea anemones surrounding a small fish, slowly pushed her inward.

The short distance felt agonizingly long, each step weighed down by the solemnity of the occasion. Despite Zhu Yu’s repeated insistence that she was only there to handle routine business, the scene resembled a high-ranking official’s inspection tour.

The only difference was that while officials typically raised concerns during inspections, Zhu Yu was being interviewed, with staff members eagerly inquiring about her well-being and her relationship with the Lord.

Zhu Yu gave an ambiguous reply, hoping to draw more attention to the Academy of Sciences’ research on “patients.” To her surprise, her impromptu remarks that day had sparked widespread interstellar interest.

It turned out that over a decade ago, during the honeymoon phase between the Empire and the Federation, the two nations had planned extensive collaborative projects, including highly sensitive medical experiments.

However, when relations soured, the cooperation dissolved, leaving some scientists stranded in enemy territory.

Zhu Yu’s impassioned speech had been a spur-of-the-moment outburst. Later that night, reviewing her actions, she felt she had been impulsive, giving Feng Jiyan an opening to exploit.

Yet, with these issues resurfacing in the public eye, now involving the Empire’s esteemed Princess, even the Federation was stirred into a frenzy, openly expressing hope for a resumption of the research.

The scale of the Star Pirates’ smuggling operations was staggering. It wasn’t just that one planet; the deeper the investigation went, the more extensive the network behind it became.

As Nangong had warned, none of them were clean.

Recently, the “higher-ups” seemed particularly busy. The Bank Manager dismissed all other employees and personally handled Zhu Yu’s transaction, subtly probing whether the Federation was about to make a move.

“Ha ha, my information is far less reliable than yours,” Zhu Yu replied with an enigmatic smile, shaking her head slightly.

She said nothing more, merely smiled at the Bank Manager.

The shrewd old man, his eyes gleaming with wisdom, seemed to have grasped something. He suddenly adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and sighed softly. “Princess Zhu Yu, we have always supported you, as you know. If the opportunity arises, please pour a cup of tea for our Lord on our behalf.”

After a moment of silence, Zhu Yu nodded gently. “Thank you for your concern.”

The young woman clasped her hands behind her back, her lips pressed together as if she had something more to say.

The Bank Manager immediately bowed respectfully, holding his breath in anticipation.

Zhu Yu spoke: “I have some items I need to store. Is this place secure enough?”

The Bank Manager’s expression sharpened. He rose abruptly, pressing a hand to his chest. “Rest assured! I swear on my honor—”

Zhu Yu, who had only come to store her jewels out of fear of theft, quickly patted his shoulder. “I trust you!”

She had only mentioned it casually to sound more professional, never expecting the Imperials to take it so seriously.

The Bank Manager summoned two other specialists who held the keys and personally escorted Zhu Yuxia onto the elevator. The lights flickered briefly before brightening again.

This place housed the second-largest vault in the entire Empire and also served as a secure storage facility for VIP clients’ valuables.

The three specialists respectfully led Zhu Yuxia to a massive, reinforced door, where they meticulously checked their keys against each other.

The keys weren’t traditional metal ones; they resembled fractured pieces of soft jade. Only when all three fragments were combined could the massive door be unlocked.

Beyond this door lay a room reserved exclusively for Zhu Yuxia.

The young woman froze, startled by the elaborate security measures.

Wasn’t my original body just an ordinary military officer? And she’s only been married to Bai Shuzhou for a few years! How much money could she possibly have accumulated?!

Zhu Yu clenched her fists nervously, shoving her hands into her pockets to conceal any subtle signs of her unease.

Even after entering the room, there was a second biometric lock.

Zhu Yu peeled back another layer of this nested security system, revealing yet another layer.

After the scan was completed, the riot-proof door swung open just wide enough for Zhu Yu to squeeze through sideways.

In the center of the vast room stood several safes.

Zhu Yu let out a silent sigh of relief.

Fortunately, the room wasn’t overflowing with cash or jewels. Otherwise, she might have seriously considered whether confessing her crimes could earn her a reduced sentence.

She lifted the gemstone Bai Shuzhou had given her, weighed it in her hand, and slipped it into a storage pouch. At first glance, it didn’t seem like much, but it was surprisingly heavy.

Zhu Yu crouched down and searched the perimeter until she finally discovered the mechanism to open the safe.

A holographic screen popped out from the hardened protective layer. Instead of prompting for a password, it displayed a security question:

Who is the person I love most?

Original self, are you still in elementary school? Zhu Yu couldn’t help but scoff. She hadn’t used security questions like this since graduating elementary school.

Who sets up a safe with a security question like this?!

She tentatively typed in “Bai Shuzhou.” A glaring red “Incorrect” flashed across the screen, accompanied by a cold, mocking smile that seemed to mock her naive stupidity.

“……”

The original owner of this body was an orphan with no family names to try. Zhu Yu clutched her head in frustration.

You’re married already, you bastard! Who else could you possibly love more than your wife?!

Zhu Yu held her breath, her vision darkening, and braced herself for the worst.

She activated her Light Brain, desperately searching her contacts for an answer.

True love, no matter how hidden, always leaves a trace.

But the original owner had been a promiscuous flirt, chatting with multiple people simultaneously. After scrolling through the entire list, Zhu Yu found no obvious suspects.

Considering the original owner’s personality, Zhu Yu decided to start with the wealthiest and most powerful contacts. In a moment of mental fog, she even typed in Bai Qianze’s name.

A string of “Incorrect” messages flashed across the screen.

Guessing Scumbag A’s true love felt like playing Minesweeper.

The problem wasn’t just opening the safe anymore. The original owner had clearly left behind a terrifying time bomb, ready to detonate and obliterate anyone caught in its blast.

Zhu Yu couldn’t imagine a future scenario where she was happily with Bai Shuzhou, only for a woman to suddenly appear, wailing, “I’m the one you truly love! Don’t believe me? Check your security questions—they’re all about me!”

Then Bai Shuzhou, his warm, affectionate demeanor instantly turning cold, would raise an eyebrow. Executioners would materialize, pinning the woman to the ground.

Click.

Pah!

Zhu Yu gritted her teeth, and, as if possessed, she remembered Bai Shuzhou’s unusual contact name. She typed in “Sugar Cube” as well.

One second. Two seconds. The air hung so still it felt frozen.

The System flashed erratically, and Zhu Yu’s heart leaped into her throat.

Suddenly, a blinding red light erupted on the screen.

*ERROR&**&#@#!!!!!*

The screen filled with gibberish, bathing the entire room in an eerie crimson glow.

Zhu Yu jumped back in fright, inexplicably feeling like the System was cursing her. She couldn’t help but feel indignant. Clutching the gem tightly, she snapped, “Zhu Yu, are you out of your mind?!”

Ding.

Correct answer.

The safe slowly creaked open.

Zhu Yu stared at the empty interior, stunned.

…Huh?

After several seconds, she finally realized the answer was “Zhu Yu.”

The person Zhu Yu loved most was Zhu Yu.

What a narcissist, she thought, but somehow it fits his personality perfectly…

Zhu Yu chuckled, raised her hand, and changed the password.

The person Zhu Yu loves most is: Bai Shuzhou.