Did Scumbag A Get Divorced Today? - Chapter 69.1

“Sui Yu, what if I told you… Qi Siyu was someone I raised? What would you do?”

It was a quiet sentence, yet it landed like a bombshell. Sui Yu’s hand, which had been gently stroking Shen Jueshu’s, froze mid-motion. Her mind seemed to stall completely. She blinked and asked blankly, “What do you mean?”

Qi Siyu… was raised by Shen Jueshu? But looking at their ages, the difference couldn’t be that significant, could it? And in the novel, wasn’t there no mention of Shen Jueshu ever raising anyone?

Shen Jueshu slowly closed her eyes, gathering the thoughts swirling in her mind, and said, “Qi Siyu’s real name is Ding Qisi.”

Sui Yu’s eyes widened instantly, her voice dazed: “You’re saying she’s Ding Qisi?!”

But—wasn’t Ding Qisi still supposed to be detained in Nancheng?!

“She is Ding Qisi,” Shen Jueshu said coolly, “and yet, she also isn’t. Ding Qisi is her real name. The one in Nancheng is just the Ding Qisi from the novel’s world.”

Sui Yu: “……” If she hadn’t been listening carefully or thinking fast enough, she would have gotten completely lost in that sentence.

“You’re saying… in the real world, her name is Ding Qisi?”

“Mm,” Shen Jueshu replied softly. She released Sui Yu’s waist and looked up at her. “When I first met Ding Qisi, she was only eight years old.”

Sui Yu no longer knew what kind of expression she was making—probably something dazed, because the words coming out of her mouth were equally blank.

“Ding Qisi is someone from the real world, and you met her when she was eight…”

Didn’t that mean—Shen Jueshu was from the real world too?!

“Mm.” Shen Jueshu’s voice dropped a little. “I… I’m actually the founder of the Traversers’ Association.”

She shut her eyes. The memories in her mind were becoming clearer, though there were simply too many for her to process all at once.

In a hoarse voice, she continued, “Back then, I traveled through many worlds and rarely returned to my original one. But one time when I did, I found Ding Qisi almost frozen to death in a street corner. She was so young—if I left her there, she wouldn’t have survived the night. So, I brought her home.”

“She was good at reading people and—since I was the one who rescued her—and she was docile in nature, I raised her as my own, grooming her as the second generation to inherit the Traversers’ Association.”

And that, of course, was why Ding Qisi had such high-level access. She had been raised as the heir, after all.

“Docile?” Sui Yu’s expression turned oddly indescribable.

What part of Ding Qisi even remotely resembled ‘docile’?

Shen Jueshu’s expression dimmed slightly, her voice growing lower. “Maybe power really can corrupt. Add in desire… and even the purest soul, once tainted, will only spiral further into darkness—until it’s consumed entirely.”

She didn’t even know when Ding Qisi had started developing feelings she never should’ve had. But those feelings had ultimately pushed her down a path of no return.

While Shen Jueshu was trapped in another world, enduring a horrific nightmare and with her memories sealed—Ding Qisi made her move. She sent her here, to this world.

And now, looking back, this world seemed perfectly tailored for Ding Qisi’s plan: Shen Jueshu as the heroine, suffering from inhuman torment at the hands of Sui Yu in the early chapters, and Ding Qisi, transformed into her destined Alpha, arriving just in time to “save” her.

Thinking about it now… Shen Jueshu couldn’t help but wonder—was this novel written by Ding Qisi herself? Did she orchestrate everything, just to manipulate the storyline into making Shen Jueshu fall in love with her?

After hearing everything Shen Jueshu said, Sui Yu’s face froze into stiffness. She didn’t respond for a long while.

Seeing this, Shen Jueshu thought she couldn’t accept the truth. Her eyes dimmed slightly, but her hand stubbornly held on to Sui Yu’s wrist, unwilling to let go.

No matter what Sui Yu thought… she couldn’t leave.

One had to admit—Ding Qisi had read Shen Jueshu’s personality far too accurately.

She was, in fact, exactly like the later depiction in the novel—obsessive, cold, and detached. Shen Jueshu could remain indifferent to countless things, but once she cared about something, nothing could stop her from keeping it by her side.

No matter what it took.

Just when Shen Jueshu thought Sui Yu couldn’t accept the truth, Sui Yu suddenly asked, “So… how old are you, really?”

Shen Jueshu was momentarily at a loss for words. She blinked at Sui Yu, stunned, caught completely off guard by the unexpected direction of her question.

Seeing her reaction, Sui Yu became visibly distressed. “So I really was your little fresh meat!”

Even counting her time as a secondary personality, Sui Yu was barely in her early thirties at most. But Shen Jueshu had apparently been hopping across worlds, even going off to experience extreme thrill-seeking lives just for fun! How long did one have to live—and how bored must they be—to start doing that?

Pushing Shen Jueshu aside, she grabbed a pen and paper with dramatic frustration. “I’m giving you one chance! I want a full list of all your romantic entanglements—from start to finish! If I ever find out you left anyone out… don’t even think about getting a peaceful night’s sleep!”

Her grip on the pen tightened. Shen Jueshu had lived so long, with her memories sometimes sealed, going off to other worlds “for the experience”—who knew how many wild nights she’d had?!

Shen Jueshu was thoroughly dumbfounded by Sui Yu’s reaction. Was this… really what a normal person would focus on after hearing all that?

A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes.

“Well? Speak up!” Sui Yu bit her lip, her voice starting to tremble. Even though she knew she had no say in what happened before they met… jealousy was still eating her alive.

Hearing her voice crack, Shen Jueshu let out a soft, bitter laugh. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Sure, I’ve lived a bit longer than most, but before I met you, I never loved anyone. If I had, wouldn’t that make me a total playgirl? Tossing aside someone I loved just to go world-hopping for fun?”

“Besides,” she added, “those worlds I visited—they were horror realms. No love interests. Just ghosts, curses, constant life-or-death scenarios. Who had the time or energy for romance?”

Did Sui Yu really think a longer life meant more emotional baggage?

Sui Yu sniffled. “Are you telling the truth?”

Shen Jueshu sighed. “Of course I am. Not everyone’s like you, you know.”

Tough one moment, soft the next. To Shen Jueshu, Sui Yu was a golden retriever—warm, loyal, and someone she couldn’t stop falling for.

Sui Yu finally set the pen down. She mostly believed Shen Jueshu by now, but she still felt the need to throw out a warning.

“You better not be lying to me. If I find out you did—don’t even dream of peace in this lifetime!”

Shen Jueshu was helpless in the face of her threats—but her heart softened at them. Because she knew Sui Yu only reacted this way out of love. If she didn’t care, Shen Jueshu’s life or death wouldn’t matter to her at all.

“Should I swear an oath?” Shen Jueshu offered softly, her eyes filled with affection as she gently wiped the tears from the corner of Sui Yu’s eyes.

Sui Yu scrunched her nose and snapped, “No need! If you lie, I won’t wait for the heavens to punish you. I’ll do it myself!”

Shen Jueshu chuckled. That’s my girl.

She brushed a finger under Sui Yu’s eyes and murmured, “Anything else you want to ask?”

Sui Yu sniffled again. “Now that your memories are back… are you going to leave me?”

After all, she was just a character in a novel, a paper-thin person. Shen Jueshu, on the other hand, was the founder of the Traversers’ Association. The gap between them couldn’t be wider.

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Shen Jueshu said, exasperated. She pulled Sui Yu into her arms and whispered, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved in this long life. Do you really think I’d ever let you go?”

“And…” Shen Jueshu took Sui Yu’s hand and placed it gently on her own abdomen. Biting her lip, she said, “Do you really want our child to grow up without a mommy?”

Feeling the soft warmth under her palm, Sui Yu’s heart finally settled. She sniffled once more and mumbled, “Whoever go first… is the dog!”

Hearing such a childish remark, Shen Jueshu couldn’t help but laugh—both amused and helpless. Aren’t you already my little puppy? she thought to herself.

But regardless of what she was thinking, she still replied softly, “Alright.”

Once Shen Jueshu agreed, Sui Yu finally let out a full breath of relief. Then, as if remembering something, she asked, “When did you start remembering everything?”

Shen Jueshu’s expression dimmed. “I had fragmented flashes for a while—images drifting through my mind—but they were always vague, hard to piece together. It’s only recently that I’ve started to recall things more clearly, though not fully connected yet.”

The more contact she had with Ding Qisi, the more she felt like something vital had been taken from her. Especially just now, when she saw that tiny white pill—everything finally clicked into place.

Ding Qisi had used that very pill on her before, forcing her consciousness into deep sleep and hijacking her soul into this world. Once was bad enough. If it happened again, Shen Jueshu might have wanted to strangle herself for being that careless.

Sui Yu thought Shen Jueshu’s experience sounded very much like her own. In a way, it just proved how compatible the two of them were.

“So what happens next…” Sui Yu asked hesitantly. Now that Shen Jueshu had recovered her memories, wouldn’t dealing with Ding Qisi be easier?

Shen Jueshu let out a quiet sigh, her expression growing heavy. “My system is low on energy.”

Clearly, Ding Qisi had anticipated the possibility of her regaining her memories and coming for revenge. So during her unconscious state, Ding Qisi drained a huge amount of the system’s energy—forcing it into slumber alongside Shen Jueshu.

It was her own fault for trusting that falsely gentle face. She had given Ding Qisi a high level of system access. While Ding Qisi couldn’t remove her system outright, siphoning energy? That, she could do.

Sui Yu’s eyes widened slightly, and then her brows drooped in a mix of frustration and grievance. “Why didn’t you pick me up back then instead?”

Honestly, she felt she was way better than Ding Qisi. Even if she had developed feelings for Shen Jueshu too, she would never have done something so utterly selfish and destructive. That was pushing her away, not loving her.

Hearing Sui Yu’s wounded tone, Shen Jueshu’s heart gave a painful throb. She thought the same. Of all the people she could’ve picked up, why hadn’t it been Sui Yu?

But even thinking that, she knew it hadn’t been possible. She had found Ding Qisi long before Sui Yu ever appeared.

Besides, without Ding Qisi, there would have been no novel. And without the novel, there would have been no Sui Yu—no chance for them to ever meet. In a twisted way, Ding Qisi had played the role of a matchmaker between them.

“Why did the Traversers’ Association end up like this? Even if Ding Qisi usurped control, wouldn’t there still be people loyal to you?” Sui Yu asked in disbelief. If Shen Jueshu had been the founder, surely she had loyal followers. Did everyone turn against her? That was insane.

By every measure, Shen Jueshu was more charismatic and trustworthy than Ding Qisi.

Shen Jueshu’s gaze turned cold. “Those who didn’t obey her had their systems stripped. They’re no longer members of the Association.”

She could only blame herself—for giving Ding Qisi too much authority.

Sui Yu was at a loss for words. After a moment of silence, she quietly asked, “Then why are there still people who want you dead?”

From what they’d seen so far, Ding Qisi didn’t seem to want to kill Shen Jueshu—just possess her.

Shen Jueshu sighed, her eyes settling on Sui Yu with helpless gentleness. “If they’re part of Ding Qisi’s faction, don’t you think they’d be terrified of me coming back?”

If she returned in full power, they couldn’t be sure whether they’d survive. So better to take the gamble—eliminate the threat while they still could.

Sui Yu’s brows slowly knit together. “No wonder the Traversers’ Association has such a terrible reputation.”

With people like that inside, how could the foundation possibly be clean?

“There won’t be a Traversers’ Association anymore,” Shen Jueshu said softly.

Human nature—was the hardest to understand, and the easiest to change. After everything that had happened, she no longer dared to gamble on trust. She didn’t want to see people holding power they couldn’t be trusted with, wrecking the lives of others at will.

Hearing those words, Sui Yu was momentarily stunned. Then an ache welled in her chest. In the end, it wasn’t even Shen Jueshu’s fault, yet she was the one left most deeply wounded.

Sui Yu wrapped her arms around Shen Jueshu and whispered, “No matter what you choose to do, I’ll support you.”

Shen Jueshu suddenly felt her eyes sting with heat. She closed them, trying to stop the emotion from spreading, but her voice still carried a faint tremble.

“Thank you, Sui Yu.”

Sui Yu gave her an overwhelming sense of security—the kind that said, no matter what happens, she would always stand by her side.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Sui Yu pouted, clearly wanting to settle another matter.

“When Fu Xin said I was just a stand-in… she didn’t mean the real one was Ding Qisi, right?!”

A trace of helplessness appeared on Shen Jueshu’s face. Ah, she thought, there goes the little vinegar jar, knocked over again.

She lifted her eyes to look at Sui Yu and explained gently, “When I took her in, I only provided food, clothes, and shelter. Even her education was handled by others. I didn’t spend much time with her—I was never particularly close to her.”

Yes, she’d raised Ding Qisi with the intention of training a successor, but that didn’t mean she doted on her or was personally involved in her care.

Sui Yu’s expression softened. So, it had been a deliberate attempt to provoke her—trying to anger her and drive a wedge between her and Shen Jueshu.

“Well, you’re not allowed to look at her,” Sui Yu grumbled. Even with the answer she wanted, she couldn’t help but throw in a possessive warning.

Shen Jueshu chuckled, but didn’t refute it. Honestly, if she had looked at Ding Qisi that way, would Ding Qisi even need to go through all this effort?

Though they’d cleared the air between them, there were still major problems to solve.

With Shen Jueshu’s system low on energy, she couldn’t risk letting Ding Qisi know she had regained her memories. If Ding Qisi caught wind of it, who could say whether she would resort to silencing her permanently? Shen Jueshu had no doubt Ding Qisi feared the truth coming to light.

If it came down to a direct confrontation now, things would only be more dangerous.

“For now, we wait and watch,” Shen Jueshu said softly. That was all they could do. She’d tried activating her system again, but there had been no response.

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