Transmigrated as the Imperial Princess's Scumbag Alpha Ex-Wife - Chapter 8

The curtains were drawn open, letting sunlight stream into the room.

 

Amidst the fragrant steam rising from the food, even the drab house seemed to soften and glow.

 

Helan set down her chopsticks. “Eat while it’s hot. Don’t be shy—Little Ming will get you more if you need it. The noodles are free to refill, so eat until you’re full.”

 

The woman on the bed opened her eyes. Even Helan, who had seen countless faces in her lifetime, couldn’t help but pause when those pale blue eyes lifted to meet hers.

 

Distant, aloof, and regal, yet somehow not off-putting.

 

Her eyes were like the sky itself.

 

“Thank you for saving me,” Bai Shuzhou said with a slight nod, her voice soft and clear, unusually earnest.

 

The world seemed to fall silent for a moment.

 

Helan regretted not giving her more beef earlier.

 

How could such a pure and beautiful child exist? Like a glass-blown work of art, she leaned quietly against the soft pillows.

 

While Zhu Yu had run out to buy more noodles, Bai Shuzhou had already changed into the dress Helan had carefully folded beside the pillow—a dress from Helan’s youth.

 

Zhu Yu hadn’t dared to help her change, so she had deliberately chosen a loose-fitting set that resembled pajamas, allowing Bai Shuzhou to change easily on her own. She wouldn’t have appreciated assistance.

 

The loose-fitting clothes only accentuated her delicate frame. Helan couldn’t help but think of a wind chime, imagining her swaying in the breeze with a crisp, resonant voice.

 

He Ming, who was sprawled across the table, let out a small “wow” before Helan could speak. Grinning foolishly, she pushed the milk from her little bag toward Bai Shuzhou. “Hehe, it’s no trouble at all! No need to thank me, no need to thank me! Sister Little Zhou, drink this and get well soon!”

 

“I don’t need it,” Bai Shuzhou said coldly, but before He Ming’s little face could droop in disappointment, she added, “Thank you.”

 

He Ming, who bloomed at the slightest warmth, instantly brightened.

 

Helan couldn’t bear to watch any longer and sent her outside to play with Zhu Yu.

 

The young woman was sitting in the courtyard on a small stool, appearing at first glance to be squatting. Her slender back looked lonely.

 

Bai Shuzhou frowned as soon as she saw Zhu Yu. Zhu Yu understood that having a bully constantly hovering around would be quite nauseating. She was acutely aware of her “second-generation villain” status.

 

When the child opened the door, Zhu Yu instinctively glanced back and met Bai Shuzhou’s gaze. The woman naturally noticed the bun Zhu Yu had been holding, which had just fallen to the ground.

 

Bai Shuzhou could already picture Zhu Yu pitifully picking up the dirty bun, casually chewing it when asked, and generously ordering only a bowl of beef noodles—a theatrical display of self-sacrifice, all for show.

 

Zhu Yu had always been like this.

 

She was adept at positioning herself as the underdog, a pawn in a larger game. Like clumsy fish taking the bait, people would fall for it, regardless of context or truth, thinking, “Ah, she’s so pitiful.”

 

The commoner star always accommodated the noble princess, and people never tired of marveling at the vast class divide.

 

Seeing Bai Shuzhou’s expression grow colder, the oblivious Zhu Yu nervously shoved the bun into her mouth and swallowed it.

 

Damn it! she thought. Eating something off the floor—Bai Shuzhou must think I’m so unhygienic!

 

But she wasn’t stupid. She could just rinse off the dirty side with water or peel off the outer layer. The dough inside was clean and innocent, even if it tasted a bit bland.

 

Back in the cafeteria, there had been no choice. Compared to the swill they served, Zhu Yu thought the bun’s biggest flaw was its lack of meat. Selling small steamed buns as buns—that was a heinous crime!

 

Bai Shuzhou quickly turned away and picked up her chopsticks to eat her noodles.

 

She ate quickly, yet with perfect grace, not a single drop of soup splashing and without making a sound. Helan wished she could grab that nosy, hip-swaying girl outside who kept asking Zhu Yu, “Sis, what are you eating? Does it taste good?” and force her to learn some manners.

 

The genetic lottery—how could the gap be so vast?!

 

But then Helan remembered that Zhu Yu wasn’t exactly a world-shattering beauty either. Winning such a jackpot was truly rare, and she let go of her envy.

 

“You sisters have been through quite a lot,” Helan sighed.

 

Bai Shuzhou’s hand froze mid-motion, her chopsticks hovering over her noodles.

 

Sensing the sudden tension, Helan chuckled. “What’s wrong? Did you two have a fight?”

 

She subtly glanced at Bai Shuzhou’s legs. Having just woken up and unable to walk, especially as a dancer, she must be struggling to accept this reality. Her low mood was understandable.

 

Helan tried to offer comfort without sounding too deliberate. “Life is long. Looking back, even the greatest difficulties of one phase will eventually pass. Except for life and death, nothing else really matters.”

 

“When I found you both, she was barely conscious but still clutching you, begging me to save you. She never gave up on you, just as you’ve never given up on her.”

 

Bai Shuzhou set down her chopsticks, interrupting Helan’s earnest lecture. “I’m finished.”

 

Helan raised an eyebrow, her extraordinary intuition immediately detecting the turmoil beneath the calm surface. Finished didn’t mean full.

 

The noodle bowl was spotless, as if the large portion had vanished into thin air.

 

Hmm, strange. Did I serve too little?

 

Helan waved her hand. “Little Ming, come here. Go home and get another bowl of noodles. I need to take Little Yu to work.”

 

Turning to Bai Shuzhou, she urged, “Don’t be shy. When you’re sick, you need to eat plenty. You’ll need your strength for this long battle. Noodles are cheap—eat as much as you want.”

 

Bai Shuzhou nodded.

 

Zhu Yu peeked out from behind Helan, chiming in, “Yeah, eat up! It’s already paid for, so don’t worry about it.”

 

She was off to work now, to earn a living and support her family.

 

It felt a little strange, a little new, and a little nerve-wracking. But the thought of finally being self-sufficient filled her with a sense of groundedness.

 

Although Zhu Yu came from a single-parent family, she hadn’t experienced much hardship and lacked the harsh lessons of the real world. During her internship, she remained partially connected to her school, receiving no wages but maintaining a positive attitude.

 

The nutrient solution factory was vast and far more impressive than Zhu Yu had imagined. The floors were pristine white, and the machinery operated with rhythmic precision, humming steadily.

 

Helan led her forward like a valiant panther, introducing Zhu Yu to the supervisor as her niece, who was there for a summer job. This familial connection smoothed things over, and even without official identification, the supervisor didn’t press the matter.

 

Lunch was provided, and they could eat as much as they wanted.

 

From the moment Zhu Yu started work, she eagerly anticipated her lunch break.

 

After changing into her uniform, she found the work simple yet monotonous—endless mechanical repetition of basic tasks. They felt like tiny screws in the massive machinery.

 

The girl next to her secretly put on headphones, the small MP3 player leaking music. Zhu Yu listened along for a while; it was all rock music with a strong, driving rhythm.

 

Still, it was incredibly boring.

 

While maintaining the same pace as her colleagues, Zhu Yu studied the machines, imagining their internal mechanisms.

 

Their roles were limited to packaging and quality control; they weren’t authorized to participate in the production process. Zhu Yu remained curious about how the nutrient solution was actually made.

 

The factory was plastered with propaganda, relentless and ever-increasing, touting the nutrient solution as the greatest blessing of the interstellar era—a few sips would satisfy hunger, saving vast amounts of time and resources.

 

But what was she supposed to do with all that saved time?

 

Wasn’t human lifespan already long enough?

 

What was Bai Shuzhou doing? Was she as bored as Zhu Yu?

 

Oh, I forgot! I should have asked for some books or something for her to read. Anything to pass the time. Lying in bed all day must be unbearable.

 

If Bai Shuzhou gets too bored, she’ll turn dark, reminisce about her glorious past, and rise up to eliminate me.

 

Remembering her original self’s tragic fate, Zhu Yu shuddered, wishing she could raise her fingers and swear to the heavens that she had turned over a new leaf.

 

The factory restroom had a mirror. When Zhu Yu first saw this body’s face, she felt like she’d been struck by lightning.

 

It wasn’t that the face was particularly beautiful or ugly, but rather that they looked exactly alike.

 

Zhu Yu couldn’t understand it.

 

She just couldn’t understand it.

 

Aside from her friends, she had barely spoken to other girls. How had the original Zhu Yu become a scumbag A, a notorious player?

 

The sense of immersion was overwhelming, as if the furry shell she was wearing had been dancing recklessly in a crowded market, only to be suddenly removed, revealing a custom-made mask of her own face.

 

A magnified version of social death.

 

What a terrifying Russian doll!

 

Is this some kind of parallel world curse? No wonder I kept having nightmares about adventures and being chased.

 

Zhu Yu didn’t dwell on her panic for long. The whistle blew, signaling lunchtime.

 

She immediately changed her expression, cheerfully joining her colleagues in the lunch line. The girl next to her glanced at her several times. “New here?”

 

Zhu Yu smiled. “Yeah, hi. Nice taste in music. I’m Little Yu.”

 

“Mm, I’m Shan.”

 

The people here were both warm and aloof, typically addressing each other by single names—easy to remember, but just as easy to forget.

 

The factory produced nutrient solutions, and the lunch provided to employees was also nutrient solution.

 

Little Shan pursed her lips and whispered, “They only give us the cheapest stuff—five yuan a packet outside. Sometimes, if they have excess from other products, they’ll distribute those too. No one cares if you take extra.”

 

“Other products?” Zhu Yu asked, curious.

 

Little Shan was already numb to it. “All kinds of flavored nutrient solutions, nutrient supplements, nutrient blocks, nutrient cakes—a whole bunch of ‘nutrients.'”

 

“But the five-yuan stuff has no actual nutrition,” Little Shan continued. “It just fills you up and keeps you alive. You should buy some vitamins at the pharmacy for a few yuan.”

 

Nutrient solution with no nutrients? Is “nutrient” just a brand name?

 

As if she had uncovered a monumental secret, Zhu Yu whispered, “Thank you!” like a secret agent receiving intel.

 

Her Alpha physique truly proved its worth; she felt no fatigue throughout the morning. Zhu Yu figured this was likely the only benefit the original owner of her body had left her.

 

The nutrient solution came in a small strip. Zhu Yu tore it open, detected a faint aroma, but the scent vanished the moment she poured it into her mouth.

 

It felt as if something was fermenting and expanding inside her. Zhu Yu felt like a loaf of bread being baked.

 

She was full, but at a price. It was like experiencing what it would be like to be eighty years old, bedridden and tube-fed, sixty years ahead of schedule.

 

If she had to live on this stuff forever, life would pass by in a blur.

 

After deducting rent and what she owed Sister Helan, her disposable income was meager. Once she held out until Bai Shuzhou returned to the palace, they would…

 

No, she wouldn’t necessarily be safe either.

 

Those top-tier Alpha rivals were watching her like hawks, eager to eliminate her.

 

If she died, would she be able to return home? To her forever safe, warm, and fragrant home, always sheltering her from life’s storms?

 

The thought surfaced abruptly, startling Zhu Yu. She quickly pinched her wrist. She feared pain and death—life was too precious!

 

Besides, Bai Shuzhou was still waiting for her.

 

If she really leaves, what if that bastard from her original body comes back to abuse her again?

 

Damn nutrient solution! You’re making people want to die!

 

Still, since it was free, Zhu Yu angrily downed two more pouches.

 

The pricier nutrient solutions claimed to “let you taste the flavor of happiness,” but Zhu Yu strongly suspected they were secretly laced with hallucinogens.

 

Sister Helan’s meals were delicious, but they were a bit expensive. Last night, Zhu Yu had found some appliances, including a small electric cooker with a broken cord that could be fixed.

 

Zhu Yu clenched her fist. With her skills in hand, she’d show them how to get rich and prosperous after her sudden transmigration!

 

Just thinking about Bai Shuzhou eating slowly and gracefully made Zhu Yu feel good, like feeding a stray cat on the street. Even if the cat was aloof and turned its back on her after finishing its meal, their very existence was a kind of happiness.

 

Little Shan watched Zhu Yu’s sudden burst of enthusiasm, just as a burst of electric guitar music blasted through her headphones.

 

Little Shan: == There she goes again, that weird coworker.

 

Zhu Yu remained energized and focused until the end of her shift, standing out like a vibrant green scallion among her listless colleagues.

 

As she walked away, Qing Cong began to wilt.

 

In the morning, Sister Helan had accompanied her to work, but now she was alone, navigating the winding, uneven cobblestone alleys of the old neighborhood. The stark contrast to the pristine white environment of the factory was jarring.

 

She felt a sense of disappointment with this “future world,” much like her disappointment with her original self. Despite the improved material conditions, life didn’t seem to have gotten any better.

 

The repetitive, high-intensity labor had left her wrists aching. She had planned a whole list of things to do when she got home: secretly observe Bai Shuzhou’s mood, find her some toys, fix the electric hot pot, repair the refrigerator and chainsaw, and play with that cool-looking game console…

 

After much deliberation, she pared it down to: Forget it, I’m too tired. I’ll just fix the electric hot pot first.

 

From a distance, she saw the light glowing in her small courtyard, like a lighthouse standing steadfast in the twilight.

 

The aroma of dinner wafted through the air, and her weary heart suddenly felt at peace. The world was silent, as if her entire adventure at sea had been leading to this moment of homecoming.

 

Zhu Yu hurried back, surprised to find Helan already there. The woman’s tall figure loomed in the small courtyard. Grateful for Helan’s care of Bai Shuzhou, Zhu Yu pressed the neatly counted money in her pocket and quickly handed it over.

 

She had been touching it frequently on the way back, warming it with her hand, afraid someone might steal it. This was her first real earnings, and it felt extraordinary.

 

“No rush, sit down and eat first. One more bite won’t make a difference,” Helan said, her expression complex, as if she wanted to say something but hesitated. She pushed open the door, revealing a small mountain of dishes piled high on the table, and called out, “Zhu Zhou—”

 

This was the fake name Zhu Yu had made up.

 

Zhu Yu and Bai Shuzhou, Bai Yu and Zhu Zhou.

 

Originally, she had thought it wouldn’t matter since everyone called each other Little X, Little Ming, Little Yu, Little Zhou—it was all the same. But Helan clearly saw Bai Shuzhou as an adult now, addressing her with greater respect, using her full name.

 

Zhu Yu’s pupils trembled slightly.

 

Would Bai Shuzhou think I’m humiliating her?

 

The cold, pale figure inside turned, blinked softly, and acknowledged the name.

 

Discovered, Zhu Yu froze in place, a subtle tingling sensation surging from her heart. How could she have responded? She actually responded!

 

Bai Shuzhou lowered her gaze, her expression serene as autumn waters, her voice clear and crisp:

 

“Bai Yu, come here.”

 

Her surname, her given name.

 

Boom. Her heart raced, a strange buzzing filling her ears. Zhu Yu felt her youthful body begin to decay, like an old, rusting machine, clanking and sparking.

 

Clutching her chest, Zhu Yu felt as if a spring inside her was creaking and winding.

 

She couldn’t fix it.

 

In a daze, Zhu Yu imagined striking a match. In the flickering light, someone said, Our daughter’s name would sound nice too…

 

That person must have been herself, the one who had been bound to the pyre by Bai Shuzhou for her foolishly trying to seduce the Imperial Princess.

 

Her ears burned, moments away from being burned to death.

 

Butterfly effect, grandmother paradox, what’s done is done… Nothing had happened between them except a kiss. Bai Shuzhou loathed her so deeply—how could they possibly have a daughter?!