After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Met the Reborn Omega - Chapter 50

Chen Lin had never felt so speechless in her life.
She sat on a small wooden stool, a bucket of potatoes in front of her, hands moving clumsily as she struggled to peel the skins.
Once finished, she dropped the pitted, uneven potatoes into another bucket nearby.

Last week, after Su Jing kissed her, Chen Lin had exploded in anger and ended up brawling with her.
When the guards arrived, they simply threw the two of them into solitary confinement — tasked with peeling potatoes.
Not just potatoes — there was also a basket of tomatoes sitting on the floor, waiting to be washed.

Thinking back on the “fight,” Chen Lin remembered she had thrown several punches, all aimed squarely at Su Jing’s face.
Yet Su Jing hadn’t fought back even once — she only smiled at her.

Chen Lin picked up another potato and sighed.
Across from her, Su Jing was peeling potatoes too — but compared to Chen Lin, she looked even more miserable.
This wasn’t Su Jing’s first time in solitary.
Her face was bruised, with a trace of blood at the corner of her mouth — clearly, Chen Lin’s punches had landed hard.

Yet the small knife in Su Jing’s hand moved with incredible dexterity.
Chen Lin couldn’t even see her movements clearly — the potatoes seemed to peel themselves, neat and clean.
Meanwhile, Chen Lin’s own bucket still held only a pathetic few.

Chen Lin kept staring at the knife.
That thing absolutely couldn’t be allowed to fall into Su Jing’s hands.
Others might not know — but Chen Lin was well aware of what Su Jing was capable of.

Noticing Chen Lin’s wary gaze, Su Jing smiled at her and lightly tapped the knife’s tip with her finger.
“This little knife isn’t even sharpened. You know that — it’s hard enough just to peel with it.
No need to be so nervous,” she said with a soft laugh.

Before entering prison, Chen Lin had learned that several of Su Jing’s former cellmates had mysteriously died — some ruled as suicides, others shot by guards after violent incidents.

It was too suspicious.
Su Jing clearly had secrets.
Chen Lin had already been in prison for half a month, but still hadn’t uncovered anything concrete.

“Officer Chen~ do you want me to help you peel?” Su Jing said sweetly, her voice light, the playful lilt in her tone making Chen Lin’s skin crawl with goosebumps.

“Could you stop calling me that?” Chen Lin snapped.

Su Jing’s deep eyes glinted mischievously.
“Then what should I call you?” she teased.
“Little Chen-Chen? Little Lin-Lin? Or… maybe just A-Lin?”

Chen Lin frowned, clearly irritated by the sudden intimacy.
“Just call me Chen Lin,” she said, voice hard.

But Su Jing acted as if she hadn’t heard her.

“Or maybe… you’d prefer ‘Righteous Enforcer of Justice’?” she said lazily, a faint amusement in her voice.

That line lit a fire in Chen Lin.
She threw down the potato she was peeling and strode over to Su Jing, grabbing her by the collar and yanking her up roughly.

It was only then that Chen Lin realized how shockingly light Su Jing was — like a fragile bird in her grasp, delicate enough to be blown away by the wind.

Chen Lin paused in surprise, then looked into Su Jing’s deep, unfathomable eyes.
Maybe it was the dim lighting of the solitary room, but for a moment, Chen Lin couldn’t read her expression — it seemed half-smiling, half-serious.

Yet what disturbed her even more was that phrase from Su Jing’s mouth:
“Righteous Enforcer of Justice.”

“How do you know about that?” Chen Lin demanded.

Su Jing’s smile grew even more pronounced.
“Are you angry? Why?” she asked lightly.
“I actually liked the things you used to do. Why did you stop?”

Chen Lin felt a surge of anger welling up in her chest with nowhere to vent it.
In the end, she had no choice but to release Su Jing.
With a fierce shove, she pushed Su Jing away.
Su Jing staggered backward uncontrollably, the sound of chains clattering against the floor filling the room.

Chen Lin’s gaze dropped to Su Jing’s ankles — they were shackled by heavy iron chains, about a meter long, the other end fastened to a ball roughly the size of a basketball.

It seemed the prison authorities had already started keeping a close eye on Su Jing.
After all, too many incidents had occurred around her — even without concrete evidence, she had to be watched.
Even Chen Lin herself had come under scrutiny.

Chen Lin’s imprisonment was supposed to last only three months — a sentence she had carefully orchestrated.
Ordinarily, someone like her, whose crimes weren’t severe, wouldn’t have been sent to this hellish island at all.

She had leveraged her old connections to be granted the “privilege” of being placed here.
Chen Lin had believed she was coming to investigate Su Jing —
but she hadn’t expected Su Jing to have gathered information about her over the years, even while imprisoned.

When had Su Jing investigated her?
How had she done it?
Could it be that Su Jing had powerful allies behind her?

Chen Lin instinctively rejected that thought.
She had already investigated Su Jing’s background thoroughly — hadn’t she?

Su Jing’s parents had divorced when she was three.
Her mother had remarried shortly after, but when Su Jing was seven, her mother died in childbirth.
Her stepfather remarried again soon after, and Su Jing became the invisible, unwanted presence in the family.

At ten years old, Su Jing’s entire family — except for her — was murdered in what was reported as a home invasion.
All three were brutally stabbed to death, the scene so horrific that even the investigators were stunned.
It seemed less like a simple robbery and more like a personal vendetta — no ordinary thief would stab so many times out of simple greed.

Yet despite exhaustive investigation into all of the family’s social ties, no credible suspects emerged.
Suspicion inevitably fell on the young Su Jing.
According to her testimony, a man in a ghost mask and a black trench coat had broken in and murdered her family.

Because of her statement, investigators had briefly considered the possibility of a serial killer.
But no further cases resembling that massacre ever surfaced.
No trace of a second person was found at the scene — perhaps, the authorities concluded, the perpetrator’s counter-surveillance skills were simply too advanced.

Chen Lin had always believed Su Jing’s disturbing nature stemmed from her traumatic childhood.
But now, a chilling thought suddenly struck her.
Serial killer…
No trace of a second person…
The method of stabbing…
It all resembled the case surrounding Lin Changsheng too closely.

“Su Jing,” Chen Lin said sharply, “Lin Changsheng’s case — you were behind it, weren’t you?
Why did you orchestrate all of this?
Was it because what happened to you as a child scarred you too deeply?”

Su Jing tilted her head, as if genuinely puzzled.
“Childhood?” she echoed.

“The murder of your whole family,” Chen Lin said, breathing heavily.
“Because they never caught the real killer — you started mimicking crimes?”

“Ah~ you mean that,” Su Jing said casually, as if finally remembering.

But her reaction wasn’t at all what Chen Lin had anticipated.

Su Jing — slender, almost fragile — dragged her shackled foot toward the chair, the heavy iron ball scraping noisily against the floor.
With a smile, she sat down, facing Chen Lin directly.

She gently touched the corner of her lip, where Chen Lin had struck her earlier.

“I didn’t become a copycat killer because of some childhood trauma,” she said, her voice eerily clear and bright, filling the entire room.

“Because,” she continued, her expression sweetly sinister, “I’ve always been a serial killer. Why would I need to mimic myself?”

For a moment, Chen Lin’s mind roared blankly, her ears ringing.

She stared at Su Jing, who still wore that harmless, almost angelic smile — a smile so dazzling it was blinding.

Information and realizations surged chaotically through Chen Lin’s mind, crashing into each other.

What did Su Jing mean?
Was she admitting that the case involving Lin Changsheng was her doing?
Or was she talking about the massacre of her stepfather’s family when she was just a child?
Back then, Su Jing had been only ten years old — among the dead were not just her stepfather and his wife, but also a three-year-old child.
How could a ten-year-old possibly be capable of such cruelty?

“You’re wondering how I could have done it, aren’t you?” Su Jing said lightly, as if reading Chen Lin’s mind.

It was terrifying — she could see right through her.

At some point, a tomato had appeared in Su Jing’s hand.
With the other hand, she played idly with a small knife.
Then, with a swift and vicious movement, she stabbed the tomato — again and again.

“Just like this,” she said sweetly, “One stab… another stab… another stab… blood splashing everywhere.”

The tomato burst apart under the knife, juice spraying outward, dark red and viscous like blood.
For a split second, Chen Lin’s mind twisted — it was as if she were seeing the scene from years ago unfold again before her eyes.

She stared at the vivid, gory splashes, felt something wet hit her face.
Startled, she wiped her cheek — only to find it smeared in what looked like blood-red liquid.
Her face turned deathly pale as she stumbled backward in fear, losing her balance and falling to the floor.

Her hands pressed against the ground — it felt wet, sticky.
Looking more closely, she saw the floor was covered in blood.
So much blood.

Chen Lin’s mind fractured.
She saw it all again: her mentor lying in a pool of blood, the girl drenched in crimson, her small body drenched and trembling.

Chen Lin shivered violently. Just then, a soft laugh shattered the illusion.

There was no blood.
No horrific scene.
It was just the small, dark solitary confinement room of the prison.

And Su Jing was sitting not far away, perched gracefully on a chair,
watching her with the calm curiosity of an art critic admiring a masterpiece.

“I liked Lin Changsheng very much,” Su Jing said with a smile.
“And I like you too. Because we are the same. We are both born from evil.”

Chen Lin, still sitting on the floor, gritted her teeth and scrambled up.
“No,” she said firmly.
“I’m not like you. I have my sense of justice. You’re just a criminal.”

Su Jing’s voice was like a poisonous melody, seeping into her ears.

“I am a criminal,” she admitted, voice soft and clear.
“But Officer Chen… your so-called justice… hasn’t it already placed you above the law?”

“The righteous enforcer,” she whispered mockingly.
“Taking lives at will… Tell me, Officer Chen, isn’t that also a crime?”

“I’m not like you!” Chen Lin shouted, heart pounding.
“The people I killed were criminals! They deserved it!”

In a world growing ever darker, the line between justice and crime blurred.
She had watched helplessly as murderers and monsters walked free for lack of evidence.
She had seen the guilty escape punishment by feigning insanity.

Looking at the broken lives of the victims, Chen Lin had made her choice — she had stepped onto a path she thought was right.

But in the end, any justice that stood above the law… was still a crime.

This was the secret that weighed on her soul — and she hadn’t expected Su Jing to know it.

“I only killed those who deserved it, too,” Su Jing said casually, picking up Chen Lin’s words with chilling ease.

“What?” Chen Lin breathed, stunned.

Everyone always cared about who the killer was.
No one ever cared about why the killing happened.
The internet was full of voices loudly condemning murderers, all standing proudly on their moral high ground — but none of them had ever paused to consider the past of those they judged.

“That man — the one who called himself my father,” Su Jing said, voice steady,
“could sneak into my room in the dead of night… rip apart my clothes…”

Her words were calm, almost detached,
but the images they conjured were suffocating.

“No one asked.
No one cared. Pain filled every inch of my body. When I asked him why he did it, he said it was because he loved me.”

Su Jing laughed softly, a sound both bitter and beautiful.

“Does love hurt?” she asked mockingly.
“He said, ‘Of course love hurts.'”

She leaned back slightly in her chair, still smiling.
“So if love is supposed to hurt, then I must have loved him very much — after all, I stabbed him so many times. He must have felt… all of my love.”

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