Did Scumbag A Get Divorced Today? - Chapter 51.2

For the first time in her life, Shen Jueshu desperately wanted Sui Yu to wake up just so she could act like a spoiled child. If she’d only wake up, she’d agree to anything. Whatever she wanted—she’d give it.

Outside, the others were just as anxious. When Shen Jueshu finally came out, a bodyguard stepped forward and handed her the copied surveillance footage.

He spoke in a low voice. “The attacker seemed very familiar with the garage. He avoided most of the cameras perfectly.”

She took the tablet and began watching.

The video showed her own car first. At first, the car directly opposite seemed empty. But after she and Sui Yu got in, a shadow slowly rose from the back seat—staring directly at them.

The footage was grainy, and the man wore a disguise. Aside from his build, there were no useful clues.

When he raised the gun, Sui Yu clearly noticed him. In that split second, she didn’t hesitate—throwing herself over Shen Jueshu and using her own body to shield her from the bullet.

The attacker, realizing he’d failed, quickly climbed into the driver’s seat and tried to flee. By then, the bodyguards had arrived. But it was clear the attacker had anticipated their presence—that was why he attempted only a single shot before retreating.

As the video ended, Shen Jueshu’s expression turned grim. She handed the tablet back.

The man had an accomplice. When the bodyguards blew out the tires, he was injured getting out of the car. But just then, another vehicle pulled up and whisked him away—too quickly for anyone to react.

“Get every fingerprint and blood sample from that vehicle. Run a full DNA analysis,” she said coldly.

This time, she would find him.

Her eyes sharpened with icy resolve.

Anyone who dared touch what was hers—she would show no mercy.

This world belonged to her too.

“Yes, ma’am,” the bodyguard answered and left to carry out the order.

Once he was gone, Shen Jueshu exhaled slowly. She made more calls—deploying additional guards to secure the hospital and dispatching protective details to her parents and to Jiang Siyue. She feared pushing the attacker might lead to more drastic actions.

Only after everything was in place did she return to Sui Yu’s room.

She sat beside her again, releasing a gentle pheromonal field to soothe her. Even though she hadn’t slept a wink, she didn’t feel tired. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that moment—Sui Yu throwing herself in front of the bullet. Her face going pale from the pain.

“Please wake up,” Shen Jueshu whispered, holding her hand. “If you wake up… I promise I’ll never threaten you with the basement again. Okay?”

At the mention of the basement, her nose burned, and tears welled up again. She remembered the pouty, aggrieved look Sui Yu always made whenever she brought it up.

Wake up.

If you wake up… I won’t ever scare you like that again.

At that very moment, Shen Jueshu had no idea that Sui Yu was experiencing something entirely different.

In her mind, Sui Yu found herself living in what felt like a peaceful utopia—some kind of idyllic, out-of-this-world paradise. There were no scheming people, no one trying to tear them apart, and no strings pulling at their fate. She and Shen Jueshu lived there together, spending their days basking in the sun, fishing by the river, living slow and tranquil lives.

In that world, they were completely free.

In this serene existence, Sui Yu felt an unprecedented sense of peace. She had never craved power or glory—her only ambition had always been to mind her own little world. She liked things quiet and simple, and this life gave her just that.

But the longer she stayed there, the more surreal it began to feel. Given everything she and Shen Jueshu had been through—how could they possibly have arrived at such an easy, calm life? The dissonance grew sharper, until it gnawed at her heart. Somewhere, in a dreamlike haze, she could hear Shen Jueshu calling out to her, saying:

“Wake up—you still owe me a confession.”

Sui Yu was confused. Owe her a confession? Hadn’t she said “I like you” more than once already?

And yet, the emptiness in her heart only grew.

Until one day, she tried to leave that peaceful place. She opened the front door—and outside was an abyss. A sheer drop into darkness. If she took even one step forward, she’d be shattered into nothing.

A home’s threshold, suddenly becoming a bottomless pit? This world clearly wasn’t real.

Determined, Sui Yu gritted her teeth and jumped.

The sensation of falling hit her instantly. Her body jolted—and she opened her eyes.

Her entire body trembled. It felt like her soul had just returned to its rightful place.

As her vision adjusted, she made out the white ceiling above her—then, a moment later, a face came into view.

It was a face so beautiful it could make anyone feel inferior. Normally so calm and composed like a snow lotus, now it looked weary, haggard—yet full of emotion.

Sui Yu blinked in confusion. Why did my gorgeous wife look like this?

“You—” Her voice was hoarse, and pain tore through her throat before she could finish.

“Don’t speak,” Shen Jueshu said gently, pressing the call button for the nurse. She poured some warm water, stuck a straw into the cup, and brought it to Sui Yu’s lips.

As she drank, Sui Yu never took her eyes off Shen Jueshu. She really had grown thinner. Already slender to begin with, she now looked fragile—like a single gust of wind might carry her away.

The doctor arrived to check on her, and smiled reassuringly. “She’s going to be fine now. She just needs rest. After all, a top-tier Alpha’s physical resilience is something special.”

After giving a few more instructions, the doctor left.

Sui Yu didn’t quite understand everything the doctor had said. She finished the water, and when Shen Jueshu asked if she wanted more, she shook her head—a small motion that still tugged at the wound in her chest. Her brows twitched slightly.

Seeing that tiny reaction, Shen Jueshu’s expression softened. Her voice was gentle, trembling at the edges. “What’s wrong?”

It was only now that Sui Yu’s mind seemed to fully settle—her soul finally grounded in the real world. She remembered why she was lying in this hospital bed. Her eyes scanned Shen Jueshu from head to toe. Seeing that she was uninjured aside from the weight loss, her heart finally relaxed.

As long as she’s okay… that’s enough.

“Was I badly hurt?” Her voice was rough, nearly a whisper.

Shen Jueshu didn’t know how to answer at first. She reached out, touching Sui Yu’s brows tenderly. “You were unconscious for nine days,” she said quietly.

If she’d stayed asleep much longer, they would’ve had to prepare for the worst.

Sui Yu’s eyes widened. Nine days?

No wonder Shen Jueshu looked so drawn.

Her heart ached. She grasped Shen Jueshu’s hand and murmured, “Why didn’t you take care of yourself? You’ve lost weight…”

Her voice grew softer and wetter with every word, tears gathering in her eyes. All she’d wanted was for Shen Jueshu to stay safe. But in the end, she had worried herself sick.

Seeing Sui Yu like this—still lying there injured, unable to move—yet worrying for her, Shen Jueshu finally lost control. She leaned down, wrapped her arms around her, and cried.

Hot tears fell onto Sui Yu’s neck, burning her skin.

“Don’t cry,” Sui Yu panicked. She couldn’t move much, so she only managed to circle her arms loosely around Shen Jueshu, awkwardly trying to comfort her.

Shen Jueshu shook her head, crying for a long while before finally sitting up. She turned her back to wipe her tears. Her voice was muffled from the congestion. “You didn’t see anything just now.”

She felt like a curse. Ever since Sui Yu had met her, the injuries never stopped. This time was even worse—the bullet wound had come just as her leg was beginning to heal.

“Okay, I didn’t see anything,” Sui Yu said with a soft smile, humoring her.

Shen Jueshu composed herself, turned back, and reached out to trace Sui Yu’s gaunt face. “Don’t ever do that again. I don’t want to lose you.”

That feeling—like she was about to lose everything—she never wanted to experience again.

Sui Yu’s smile faded a little. Her voice was low. “But I don’t want to lose you either.”

That bullet had been aimed squarely at Shen Jueshu’s heart. If she hadn’t shielded her, one of them would have certainly died.

Neither woman could convince the other. They simply stared at one another in silence—until finally, Shen Jueshu looked away first, sighing.

She understood. If their roles had been reversed, she’d have done the same.

Seeing she wasn’t going to argue further, Sui Yu felt like she’d won a small victory and smiled faintly.

But her smile didn’t last long. The pain in her chest hadn’t gone away. Even without moving, the dull ache lingered.

“Did they catch the guy?” she asked.

Shen Jueshu’s face turned cold. “He’s dead.”

She explained what had happened. After they’d identified the suspect using DNA and fingerprint databases, the team had rushed to find him—only to discover his body discarded in a cheap rental flat. No trace of anyone else was left. It was a clean kill.

Sui Yu was stunned. She gaped for a moment, then finally found her voice.

“Who would do something so brutal?”

Shen Jueshu’s voice dropped another degree. “I suspect the Traverser Association.”

After reflecting on everything—especially the contrast between the three women who showed up before (ridiculous but harmless) and this cold-blooded assassination attempt—it was clear these were two very different styles.

One absurd.

The other, merciless.

When comparing the Plot Maintenance Bureau and the Traverser Association, based on her interactions with both, Shen Jueshu felt that only the latter would be capable of something so ruthlessly clean and decisive.

Sui Yu considered Shen Jueshu’s words and found herself in agreement. Based on her own understanding of both organizations, the Traverser Association did seem the more likely culprit.

“So… does that mean we’ve lost the trail?” she asked softly. Now that the suspect was dead, wouldn’t that mean their only lead had vanished?

“I’ll find them eventually,” Shen Jueshu replied coldly. The problem with chasing traversers was that just when you found the faintest thread, someone would always come along to erase it—completely and deliberately.

Sui Yu looked like she still wanted to speak, but Shen Jueshu gently covered her eyes with her hand.

“You just woke up. Don’t think about these things right now,” she said, voice tender. “The most important thing is that you rest and recover.”

“…Okay.” Sui Yu didn’t argue. She obediently closed her eyes—but not before reaching out to hold onto Shen Jueshu’s hand, as if only by doing so could she truly feel safe.

Seeing her like this, Shen Jueshu smiled softly.

“Come lie down with me,” Sui Yu suddenly said, tugging her hand.

The dark circles under her eyes were almost panda-like. Who knew how long she hadn’t properly rested?

“I can’t. I’ll end up putting pressure on you,” Shen Jueshu said with a shake of her head.

“You’ll be careful and not press on me, right? Get up here! If you don’t sleep, I’m not sleeping either.”

Sui Yu widened her eyes, clearly ready to argue until she got her way.

Shen Jueshu: “…”

With no other choice, she sighed and gave in. She took off her jacket, climbed into the bed in just her base layer, and lay down beside Sui Yu—carefully placing a hand on her abdomen, far from the wound, facing her as she lay down.

As soon as she climbed into bed, Sui Yu visibly relaxed. Her tensed nerves finally let go, and even though daylight was shining through the window, she quickly drifted into deep sleep.

When Shen Jueshu’s parents arrived later, they were greeted by this peaceful sight: the two women lying in one hospital bed. Shen Jueshu was curled around Sui Yu protectively. Even though the position looked uncomfortable, they were both deeply asleep.

The three visitors instinctively moved as quietly as possible. Normally, even the slightest disturbance would wake Shen Jueshu—but not this time. She was out cold.

Seeing her finally getting real rest, the three were visibly relieved. Shen Jueshu’s state over the past few days had them all worried she was going to collapse from sheer exhaustion.

They didn’t stay long. Outside, Jiang Siyue said to the elder Shen couple, “You two should go home and rest. I’ll keep watch here and update you if anything happens.”

After all, they were getting older. They’d been constantly on the move lately—worrying about Sui Yu, then worrying about their daughter.

Knowing they’d only burden the young ones more by staying, the elder Shens nodded and finally left. With Sui Yu awake, they could finally rest easy themselves.

After they were gone, Jiang Siyue sat down in the hallway outside the room, wrapping herself up tightly on the waiting bench. She stared blankly at the spotless floor tiles, so polished they were practically reflective.

The image of Shen Jueshu’s parents supporting each other, and the way Sui Yu and Shen Jueshu slept so tenderly together—it all made her suddenly feel very, very alone.

She sighed quietly.

Everyone around her was paired up now. Mo Yu and Li Mi were obviously nauseatingly in love. Even Tang Wan had started acting different—smiling like a fool at her phone all the time.

The kind of giddy look that screamed: I’m in love.

Jiang Siyue began to worry about their idol group’s future. If the “house” collapsed, the whole group might as well disband.

“Ugh…”

“What are you sighing about?” came a calm voice from beside her.

Startled, Jiang Siyue looked up—and saw Li Jiang in a dark coat, a brown plaid scarf wrapped around her neck, her trademark gold-rimmed glasses perched neatly on her nose, giving off her usual scholarly-but-dangerous aura.

Her gaze dropped to the fruit basket in Li Jiang’s hand. Ignoring the question, she simply said, “Well, your timing’s off. They’re still resting. Better not disturb them.”

Not that I’d let you in to disturb them anyway. Shen Jueshu was finally getting real rest—no one was allowed to ruin that.

Li Jiang looked down at her. The scarf wrapped around Jiang Siyue’s face covered nearly everything but her eyes, and she even had the hood of her coat pulled up.

Bundled so tightly, she was almost unrecognizable.

But Li Jiang had spotted her immediately. Only Jiang Siyue would bundle up like this and still manage to look like a shivering hedgehog, curled up on a bench.

“What were you sighing about?” she asked again, apparently determined to get an answer.

Jiang Siyue rolled her eyes. “You misheard. It was just me exhaling because I’m cold.”

Li Jiang set the fruit basket down and sat next to her. Neither spoke for a while.

Alone like this… Li Jiang realized she couldn’t even remember the last time they’d had a one-on-one conversation. Back when Jiang Siyue used to chase after her, maybe?

But now, sitting here, she found she had no idea what to say.

Jiang Siyue glanced at her from the corner of her eye. Even sitting down, her posture was impeccable—drawing stares from passersby.

She pulled her scarf up even higher. “If you’ve got nothing to do, you should probably leave. Sitting here next to you makes me worried I’ll get dragged into some gossip.”

The last thing she wanted was to be secretly photographed and thrown into some baseless tabloid story.

“I’m here to wait for them to wake up,” Li Jiang replied calmly.

Jiang Siyue: “…”

Well, that shut her up. After all, Li Jiang was Shen Jueshu’s friend.

After a moment of silence, Jiang Siyue said quietly, “Thanks for what you did last time.”

Li Jiang had defended her online—but Jiang Siyue had never properly thanked her.

Li Jiang turned to her. Most of her face was hidden by the scarf, so it was hard to read her expression. But her tone held no sarcasm, no distance.

“I’m just glad you weren’t upset that I acted on my own.”

“I’m not that unreasonable,” Jiang Siyue said, eyes downcast. “You helped me. Why would I be angry?”

Her tone was flat—hard to interpret.

But hearing it, Li Jiang smiled faintly. Almost wistfully, she said, “I was worried you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”

Maybe it was being around Shen Jueshu and Sui Yu, but Jiang Siyue had picked up some of their stoic energy lately.

Jiang Siyue looked sideways at her. “I want to apologize for how I kept bothering you in the past. I was young and stupid and didn’t think about how you felt.”

Now, looking back, she couldn’t even remember why she’d been so obsessed.

There were plenty of charming, dangerously attractive women out there—Li Jiang wasn’t the only one.

Li Jiang’s expression dimmed slightly. “It’s in the past. No need to bring it up. But if you’re apologizing, then I should too—for how I treated you back then. I wasn’t thinking about your feelings either.”

Jiang Siyue looked at her again, surprised. She hadn’t expected Li Jiang to apologize too.

After a pause, she asked—quietly, hesitantly, “You… didn’t start liking me after I stopped chasing you, did you?”

She didn’t sound too sure—but she still got the words out.

Li Jiang: “…”

Her silence made Jiang Siyue smile with a trace of self-mockery. She let out a long sigh.

“That hurts more than if you’d fallen for Mo Yu.”

Li Jiang groaned, rubbing her forehead. “It wasn’t after you left that I started liking you, I—”

She wanted to say it again—that line she’d told herself a hundred times: I don’t like you.

But now, faced with Jiang Siyue again, the words stuck in her throat. What was the point in saying it now?

Would it just humiliate her?

She looked down. Her voice was dry when she finally spoke again.

“Jiang Siyue… do you remember we were classmates once?”

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