After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Met the Reborn Omega - Chapter 56

Warning! Warning!

The system alarms blared repeatedly in Lin Changsheng’s mind, echoing like sirens. But she forced herself to appear calm as she stared at Su Jing.

Su Jing, on the other hand, seemed to see right through her. Her emotionless eyes carried a penetrating sharpness—as if they could read the very depths of one’s soul.

“You’ve been warned? Then don’t come any closer.”

At her words, the blaring system alarms suddenly ceased.

Lin Changsheng finally understood what the system had always feared. It wasn’t Xingyun.

It was Su Jing.

“We could work together,” Su Jing said, taking a step forward. “Let’s destroy this world together and break free from the system’s control.”

Every step Su Jing had taken up to now had been toward her goal: world annihilation. But no matter how much she had suffered, Lin Changsheng would never join her in hurting others.

Not in a world where Mo Zhaoyan still existed.

As long as she was here, there was still hope.

“I won’t work with you,” Lin replied coldly. “If we can’t cooperate… then I’ll destroy the one inside you.”

With that, Lin rose to her feet.

If her relationship with Xingyun was built on mutual existence, then Su Jing’s must follow the same structure. But what Lin didn’t know was—was this still the original Su Jing standing before her? Or had her soul already been replaced?

Su Jing hesitated briefly, then smiled.

“My situation isn’t like yours,” she said lightly. “The one inside you… is too weak.”

Lin wasn’t sure what Su Jing meant. Was she speaking literally? Or did she mean she had completely taken over her original self?

Lin didn’t care to find out.

She turned to leave—but something made her pause. She looked back.

Su Jing was already being escorted away by prison guards, shackled at both hands and feet. Life in prison clearly hadn’t been kind to her—especially without Chen Lin by her side.

“There’s one more thing,” Lin said quietly. “Chen Lin… she committed suicide.”

Su Jing stopped in her tracks.

For the first time, Lin Changsheng saw something flicker in her eyes—surprise.

Su Jing’s face, usually blank and in control, twisted with something else. Confusion? Shock?

She opened her mouth slightly, wanting to ask something… but in the end, all she could do was murmur in disbelief, almost to herself:

“She wouldn’t… She wouldn’t do that… How could she kill herself?”

Lin could tell—Su Jing cared about Chen Lin.

From the way she had once proudly spoken about her, it was clear that Chen Lin was one of Su Jing’s most treasured “creations.”

But Chen Lin’s suicide—was beyond her expectations.

For someone who had always believed everything was under her control, this was a blow she couldn’t comprehend.

And in that moment—just for a second—Su Jing finally seemed… human.

“She wouldn’t!” Su Jing suddenly cried out, her voice filled with a rare burst of emotion.

The clanging of chains rang out as the guards quickly restrained her. The sound was sharp and jarring.

Then, just as suddenly, Su Jing fell silent again.

Her expression returned to the cold, detached one Lin was all too familiar with.

She turned her back, and Lin could no longer see her face.

But she wanted to.

She wanted to know—which one was the real Su Jing?

Did Su Jing even feel anything at all?

Could she be sad?

Angry?

Even now, as she turned away, Su Jing remained that same proud, aloof figure—looking down on the world, convinced she held all the strings.

“Do you feel sorrow?” Lin asked aloud, not knowing whether she was asking Su Jing… or herself.

Su Jing’s steps paused. Without turning back, she whispered, “Do I? … Maybe.”

It wasn’t clear whether she was answering Lin, or speaking to herself.

But in that moment—her back seemed lonelier than ever before.

Lin stared at her silhouette, eyes unwavering.

“You do,” she said firmly.

Chen Lin’s death became a nightmare shared between the two of them.

At least for Lin Changsheng, every time she closed her eyes, the scene replayed in perfect clarity—Chen Lin, lifting the gun, pointing it at herself… her eyes filled with despair, regret, and pain.

That gunshot.

It jolted Lin Changsheng awake again.

How many times had this happened now? How many nights had she been torn from sleep by the echo of that sound?

There were many victims of Su Jing’s torment. Some had lost their minds entirely, twisted into the serial killers Su Jing so desired—soulless monsters who felt no guilt for their crimes.

But people like Chen Lin were different. She had once held firm beliefs about justice. Even if she had been manipulated for a time, there was still a moment of clarity in her.

Lin hadn’t expected Chen Lin to be so stubborn, though—so utterly committed to her own sense of right and wrong that she chose death as atonement.

Perhaps, to her, continuing to live was a betrayal of her ideals.

Such a foolish woman.

Lin herself had once been under Su Jing’s influence. Su Jing had tried to break her completely—to crush her from the inside out and make her a willing accomplice, to convince her that in this entire world, no one but Su Jing would ever truly stand by her.

After her parents’ deaths, Lin Changsheng had been treated as the murderer.

The media swarmed her life.

Countless strangers hurled insults and condemnation her way. They forgot everything she had done—the lives she’d saved, the contributions she’d made. All they remembered was her alleged “guilt,” even if it had been fabricated.

No one believed her.
No one helped her.

Chen Lin had been among those people once. When the avalanche came, not a single snowflake claimed responsibility.

It was only through her time with Mo Zhaoyan that Lin began to recover a piece of herself.

But even that fragile healing was shaken.

Her distrust in love… her lack of faith in herself… and Mo Zhaoyan’s long hours, her unintentional emotional distance—all of it chipped away at Lin’s foundation. Eventually, her sensitive and fragile heart could bear no more.

She broke.

And Xingyun took her place.

Xingyun was no less influenced than Lin had been. She simply took the path Su Jing had envisioned—executing the apocalyptic plan that shocked the world. A single drug release wiped out nearly 100 million people.

Among them were the serial killers Su Jing had created.

Those with genetically “inferior” traits—more emotionally fragile, more susceptible to Su Jing’s manipulation—were the first to fall. And Su Jing hadn’t expected this: that even after carrying out the mass extinction, Xingyun had merely followed Lin’s theoretical principles.

She eliminated only those marked by so-called genetic weakness.

And Lin Changsheng herself…
was genetically inferior.

Xingyun’s final act—her suicide—was the ultimate proof of Lin’s theory.

To show the world it was true:
Those with inferior genes are more likely to commit crime.
By becoming the most infamous criminal herself, Xingyun had become the final piece of evidence.

But this wasn’t the ending Su Jing wanted.

She didn’t want Lin Changsheng’s logic proven right.
She wanted her soul corrupted.

She wanted Lin to commit crimes not for reason, but from hatred—from darkness. She wanted Lin to become evil.

In truth, Xingyun had exterminated the weak not for Su Jing, but to stop her. To prevent Su Jing from creating more monsters.

Even in death, Lin Changsheng had resisted.
Unconsciously. Instinctively.

And that was what fascinated Su Jing most.

Neither she nor Lin had expected to be given another chance at life. Maybe it was because of the entities inside them, but in this life, they both retained the memories of the last.

Lin Changsheng woke drenched in sweat, her breath ragged.

She sat up slowly, heart pounding. Beside her, there was a faint rustling. Only then did she notice Mo Zhaoyan, gently wrapped around her arm. Lin’s movement had disturbed her, making her stir restlessly in her sleep.

Lin’s gaze softened.

She reached out and carefully brushed Mo Zhaoyan’s hair away from her face. Looking at her now, she still couldn’t believe she had been given the chance to hold her again.

Lin leaned in slightly, wanting to nuzzle closer. But the cold sweat on her skin made her hesitate—she didn’t want to pass that discomfort onto Mo Zhaoyan.

So she moved slowly, gently slipping out of bed.
She glanced at the time—4 a.m.

Quietly, she pulled the blanket back over Mo Zhaoyan’s shoulders.

Feeling the absence beside her, Mo Zhaoyan shifted slightly in her sleep, reaching out with her hand, searching for the warmth that had just been there.

Lin quickly picked up a pillow and placed it in her arms.

Mo Zhaoyan hugged the pillow, rubbing her cheek against it.
It smelled like Lin Changsheng.

Content with the scent, she drifted peacefully back to sleep.

Lin Changsheng smiled softly.

She hadn’t expected to witness such an adorable side of President Mo. It was more than enough—this moment alone made this lifetime worth it.

Turning away, she stepped into the bathroom.

The lighting inside was dim. Lin must have deliberately left the main light off, not wanting to wake Mo Zhaoyan. Only the small vanity light near the mirror turned on automatically at the sound of someone entering.

In the mirror, her reflection looked utterly exhausted.

She turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face. Droplets streamed down her cheeks, falling like silent tears. She looked disheveled, worn out. When she looked up again, something made her pause.

For a fleeting moment, she saw Chen Lin.

But this time, the scene was different.

Chen Lin hadn’t committed suicide. Her eyes were still dark, filled with menace. She had still fired two shots—one at the prisoner…

And the second—straight at Lin Changsheng.

In that vision, she was the one who died.

Lin closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the hallucination had vanished.

Ever since Chen Lin’s death, Lin found herself plagued by one question: If there were another ending… would Chen Lin have chosen differently?

What if the one who died had been her instead?

It was a textbook case of survivor’s guilt, wrapping itself around her like a nightmare she couldn’t escape. And unless Su Jing died, Lin Changsheng knew she’d never truly wake from it.

Since the system’s last warning, Xingyun hadn’t surfaced again. Su Jing’s presence had clearly shaken her. The last time Lin tried to reach out, Xingyun had just kept muttering the same words over and over:

“It’s impossible… you can’t defeat it…”

Then she severed their connection.

And never returned.

For the first time, Lin felt truly lost.

She said she wanted to defeat Su Jing, but she didn’t even know where to begin.

At that moment, warmth wrapped around her from behind.

Mo Zhaoyan had come up silently and embraced her, resting her head on Lin’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Another nightmare?”

That familiar warmth melted into her skin. Mo Zhaoyan’s voice was still thick with sleep, soft and lazy. She must have just woken up. Lin’s cheek rested gently against hers, but she didn’t answer the question.

“Did I wake you?” she asked instead.

Mo Zhaoyan shook her head. “No. I woke up on my own… I was looking for my wife.”

A rare, childlike honesty appeared in her tone.

Maybe she wasn’t fully awake yet. Either way, Lin couldn’t help but be moved by how adorable she was.

“Well, I’m right here,” Lin replied.

“I was afraid… afraid you’d be gone again.”

Lin froze.

Her mind flashed back to their past life—how she had been trapped inside Xingyun, helpless to stop her from pushing Mo Zhaoyan further and further away.

It was during that time that Mo’s warmth had begun to fade, her heart freezing over.

In the early days of their marriage, Mo Zhaoyan had been gentle—affectionate, even. But as Lin drifted further away, Mo had grown colder. She seemed to lose interest in everything, including herself.

That perfect, untouchable persona? It was all a performance.

People aren’t immune to fear. The more you care about something, the more terrified you become of losing it.

That is what it means to be human.

Support After Becoming a Scummy Alpha, I Met the Reborn Omega