Oops, I’m the Scumbag Ex in Her Storyline - Chapter 34

Driver Xiao Zhang had just finished a round of his mobile game when Xin Yan came back.

…She’d barely been gone five minutes.

As expected of President Xin—even her drinking is efficient.

The bar wasn’t too close or too far from the university. With smooth traffic, it took only ten minutes to arrive. By then, Bei Lanlan was already standing on the sidewalk outside the university gate. Spotting the familiar license plate, she quickly walked over.

Before the driver could move, Xin Yan had already opened the door from inside.

Bei Lanlan got in, rubbing her arms. “It’s really cold today.”

Cold?

Xin Yan actually thought the weather had warmed up. Even the forecast had said it would be a nice day.

Though she found it odd, she still reached out her hand. “Did you not dress warmly enough?”

“No,” Bei Lanlan shook her head. As if worried Xin Yan wouldn’t believe her, she grabbed Xin Yan’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Feel for yourself.”

Her complexion looked fine, but the touch of her skin was icy cold. Xin Yan quickly pulled her arm back, ready to find a blanket. But Bei Lanlan wouldn’t let go. She held Xin Yan’s hand tightly, gently rubbing against it. “It’s fine. Your hands are warm. Just hold them there for a bit and I’ll warm up.”

Her face was soft and smooth, like a peeled egg. Xin Yan’s whole arm stiffened. Something about this felt… off. She tried again to pull her hand back—but failed.

Bei Lanlan looked up at her, puzzled.

Her gaze seemed to say: You don’t want to warm me up?

Xin Yan: “…”

Fine, fine. It’s just an arm—take it, whatever.

________________________________________

The privacy partition was down. Driver Xiao Zhang silently watched the entire exchange. Since Xin Yan hadn’t spoken, he didn’t dare move. Only when she realized they had an audience did her face turn red.

“Why haven’t we left yet?” Xin Yan asked.

…Well, you didn’t say where we’re going. The driver replied.

It took them five more minutes to decide on lunch. Once the car pulled away, a student walked out of the university. She went to toss her finished bubble tea into the trash but paused—inside lay a perfectly sealed milk popsicle.

If you’re not going to eat it, why buy it? What a waste.

Shaking her head, the student walked off.

________________________________________

They went for something different today: seafood buffet.

Seafood quality drops a bit in winter, but with enough money, that’s not a problem. This particular place charged 600 yuan per person for lunch—dinner was even more expensive.

Used to private dining rooms, Xin Yan found the lively atmosphere a refreshing change. She came back with a plate full of shellfish to grill herself. Bei Lanlan, seeing what she took, followed up with some fruits, drinks, snacks, and—of course—ice cream.

This place didn’t just have premium seafood; its main draw was the ice cream.

They only served one kind, and Xin Yan couldn’t remember the brand. It was Italian, and she didn’t speak the language. She only knew that outside, a single scoop cost 128 yuan, but here, each person got an entire bowl.

When Bei Lanlan returned, Xin Yan had just placed the king crab legs on the grill. She looked up at the overflowing bowl of ice cream and pushed one portion aside. “That’s too much. It’s winter—don’t eat so much cold stuff. Let’s share one. You eat half, I’ll eat the other.”

“Okay,” Bei Lanlan smiled.

Then she sat down, picked up the long spoon, and scooped a bite straight from the bowl.

Xin Yan: “…”

What she meant was to split it first, then eat separately.

But what could she say? It was her fault for not explaining clearly. She called the server to return the untouched portion, then picked up her spoon to try the ice cream.

Bei Lanlan asked, “How is it?”

Xin Yan replied, “…I don’t really taste a difference from other handmade ice cream.”

Bei Lanlan chuckled. “Same here. I guess neither of us are cut out to be food critics.”

Saying that, she grabbed tongs and started helping Xin Yan grill.

Xin Yan asked, “Why did Professor Liu leave so early today?”

Bei Lanlan replied, “That’s just how she is—says what she means. I heard she had something to think about and needed to go home.”

Xin Yan frowned. “She needs to go home just to think?”

Bei Lanlan shrugged. “She said my presence in the lab was disturbing her brainwave frequency.”

Xin Yan: “…”

She was speechless.

Bei Lanlan flipped a prawn, then asked, “You didn’t get to chat much with your friend at the bar, huh? Not very satisfying?”

Xin Yan smiled. “It was okay. We talked a bit. Right before you called, we’d just added each other as friends. Now it’ll be easier to meet again.”

Bei Lanlan’s hand paused—she nicked the prawn’s shell with the tongs.

Pretending nothing happened, she placed it back down and asked with a faint smile, “Was it that bartender?”

Xin Yan shook her head. “No, she wasn’t working today. It was someone else—you might know her. She’s a TV host.”

Great. Another one.

Still holding the tongs, Bei Lanlan gave a quiet “Mm.” “Then she must be very pretty.”

Oblivious to her tone, Xin Yan nodded enthusiastically. “She is.”

“…But—”

That “but” probably saved Xin Yan’s life.

Bei Lanlan looked up. “But what?”

Xin Yan looked a bit perplexed. “But her personality… it’s hard to explain. Not in a bad way—just… strange.”

“How so?”

Xin Yan thought for a bit, then said firmly, “I think… she has a sister complex.”

Bei Lanlan: “…”

Off-screen Xu Fei: “…”

Just those two sentences and Bei Lanlan already felt this person posed no threat. And if there was no threat, there was no point continuing the conversation. She placed the grilled crab leg on Xin Yan’s plate, lowered her gaze, and spoke softly with a hint of guilt: “I thought you hadn’t gone out yet… I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. I just didn’t want to eat alone…”

Seeing her expression, Xin Yan quickly reassured her, “It’s fine! We’re just friends. If this ever happens again, just call me. No matter what I’m doing, I’ll come find you. After all, nothing’s more important than eating, right?”

She smiled teasingly at Bei Lanlan.

Bei Lanlan looked at her, eyes shining. “So, if I ever need you, I can call you?”

Xin Yan: “Of course.”

“You’ll be there for me, right?”

Xin Yan: “Absolutely!”

Bei Lanlan smiled—softly, dependently. “Xin Yan, you’re so good to me.”

She’d just handed Xin Yan a classic “good person” card—but Xin Yan didn’t mind. She beamed, completely unaware of the promise she’d just made.

At the next table, another customer had been silently eavesdropping for several minutes, chopsticks frozen in mid-air.

Her companion nudged her. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Coming back to her senses, the woman finally picked up some food, muttering to herself, “They’re not even in the same league…”

________________________________________

After lunch, Xin Yan started feeling a bit tired. Noticing this, Bei Lanlan didn’t suggest going elsewhere. Instead, she accompanied her home.

On the way to the parking lot, they were chatting when Xin Yan suddenly stopped and looked back.

Bei Lanlan followed her gaze—but saw nothing. “What’s wrong?”

Xin Yan frowned. “Not sure… I thought I saw something flash in my eyes…”

She was still in a hyper-alert, on-edge state. Frowning, she scanned the crowd for a long time but couldn’t spot anything suspicious. Finally, she had no choice but to look away.

Then, she slipped her arm through Bei Lanlan’s, pulling their bodies tightly together. Bei Lanlan was startled and turned to look at Xin Yan, but Xin Yan didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, she quickly led her away.

As someone who’d handled countless domestic violence cases, stalking incidents, and forced entry reports, Xin Yan was no stranger to the darker sides of society. Naivety had long since left her.

The country was good, the laws were sound—but probability was a cruel little trickster. Out of every ten thousand people, about three hundred might have antisocial tendencies. And among those, thirty could pose serious danger to others. Thirty in ten thousand wasn’t a high probability—unless it happened to you. Then it was 100%.

Which is why Xin Yan always reminded the girls she helped: never stop being vigilant.

Back in the car, she quickly locked the doors. Then she instructed the driver, “Go check if anyone’s following us.”

Driver Xiao Zhang wasn’t just any driver—he was practically a human surveillance drone. A former special forces officer with a long list of commendations, he’d only retired early because of a family illness.

Hearing Xin Yan’s order, his expression immediately turned serious. He opened the door and got out without a word.

Ten minutes later, he returned.

“President Xin, I didn’t see anyone suspicious.”

Bei Lanlan had been silent this whole time. Only now did she finally dare to speak, her eyes filled with worry as she looked at Xin Yan. “Did… something happen?”

Xin Yan didn’t answer immediately.

Maybe she was just being paranoid again.

She forced a smile. “Nothing. I just get nervous about public safety in unfamiliar areas.”

Bei Lanlan: “…”

________________________________________

Four days after returning from the rehab center, Xin Yan finally stopped seeing “Lu Wanqiu” in every stranger’s face.

That day, An Zhiyuan came back from an errand and went to Xin Yan’s office—only to find it empty. After searching for a while, he finally spotted her hiding beside a potted plant outside the secretary’s office… eavesdropping.

An Zhiyuan: “…”

He gave a polite cough to alert her.

Xin Yan turned. Upon seeing it was him, she casually walked off toward the communal break room.

Though she had her own private lounge, she rarely used the common one—too lazy to move, and she didn’t want to make the other employees uncomfortable. This entire floor was made up of her most trusted staff, and they were busier than most. Xin Yan didn’t want them feeling tense even during their breaks.

But now they were all gathered in the secretary’s office chatting, so she figured it didn’t matter.

She made herself a latte, then asked An Zhiyuan, who had followed her in, “What do you think of Lanlan’s performance lately?”

He had been planning to bring this up anyway. “Miss Bei Lanlan has been doing extremely well lately—exceptionally well. So well… it’s almost too good.”

Xin Yan frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

An Zhiyuan sighed internally. He always felt like one of those loyal court officials in ancient dramas—the kind who warns the emperor daily, only to end up beheaded for treason.

“…Previously, Miss Bei barely interacted with any colleagues. But recently, she has been getting along with everyone. She even agreed to join the secretary team’s group dinner. She’s mingling with several vice presidents’ assistants. More and more people know her, and her image around the office has become increasingly warm and approachable.”

Xin Yan said nothing.

An Zhiyuan decided to just lay it all out—if something went wrong later, at least he’d warned her. “President Xin, I also saw her chatting with the board secretary recently.”

He fell silent, waiting for Xin Yan’s reaction.

She understood exactly what he meant. Still, she glanced at him mildly. “You talk to the board secretary all the time.”

An Zhiyuan: “…”

That’s different. He was doing it for her—building bridges.

Her refusal to comment was a comment. The little schemer was clearly thriving, and An Zhiyuan wasn’t foolish enough to badmouth her outright. After all, nothing concrete had happened yet—just some questionable behavior. Who knew what Bei Lanlan was really up to?

Xin Yan took a thoughtful sip of coffee.

She already knew the answer.

As someone vying for the coveted Special Administrative Assistant position, Bei Lanlan was playing the game to perfection—future-proofing her success. Even though the promotion wasn’t official yet, she was already laying the groundwork.

Changing the topic, An Zhiyuan moved on to business. “President Xin, this year’s Winter Gala has been scheduled for the 6th. It’s hosted by the Fowler Foundation, with a ‘Snowstorm Strikes’ theme. This year’s charity will benefit patients with congenital myotonia. I hear it’s going to be a major event—venue’s booked at the Melvide Hotel, sixth-floor ballroom.”

Xin Yan lost interest as soon as he mentioned the name.

She remembered this event. The name sounded like a knock-off cat food brand, and every year the themes were absurdly dramatic. Ostensibly a charity fundraiser, in reality, it was little more than a fancy networking party.

The original founder was no saint—tax evasion, sexual assault, organized crime, national security violations… the full suite. He’d gone to prison forty years ago and never came out. But the event he created had lived on, passed down over the years.

Its hosts were all powerful figures—people even Xin Yan couldn’t afford to offend.

Because of that prestige and its long-standing tradition, the Winter Gala had become a symbol of elite social status. Attending it meant you were accepted by that echelon. Those on the outside fought tooth and nail to get in; those on the inside made sure they showed up, no matter what.

But Xin Yan had no interest.

The event was always full of rich old men with young trophy wives and celebrities who didn’t even realize they were just walking decorations. They thought they were being honored—when in reality, they were just fancy centerpieces.

Xin Yan despised that attitude. Besides, her position was already solid—she didn’t need anyone’s stamp of approval.

Taking another sip of coffee, she said flatly, “I’m not going.”

An Zhiyuan sighed in frustration. Ever since Xin Yan had changed her outlook, she’d stopped attending events like this altogether. That wouldn’t do. If she kept vanishing from public view, people would start wondering if she was ill.

He opened his mouth to persuade her—but then Bei Lanlan walked in. “Not going to what?”

Remembering Xin Yan’s soft spot for her, An Zhiyuan’s eyes lit up. He took two steps toward Bei Lanlan. “There’s a very important gala on the 6th. Most of our partners will be there. After a few more years,

President Xin might even get to host it herself. But she says she’s not going.”

He gave Bei Lanlan a meaningful look—go ahead, persuade her.

She didn’t let him down. At the word “gala,” her eyes lit up. Skipping An Zhiyuan entirely, she turned to Xin Yan and asked, “What kind of event is it?”

Xin Yan sipped her coffee, unmoved. “Old, fat, and ugly. Rich, pretty, and fake. Painful to look at.”

Bei Lanlan: “…”

She had to admit—Xin Yan was very good at getting straight to the point. Instantly, she could picture the scene.

But it didn’t deter her.

She walked up to Xin Yan, tilted her head slightly, and gently tugged on Xin Yan’s sleeve. “I want to go.”

Xin Yan looked at her in surprise. “Why? So you can play ‘Guess the Age Gap Between This Couple’ all night?”

Bei Lanlan: “…I’ve never been to that kind of event before. I’m a little curious.”

Glancing at An Zhiyuan, who was holding his breath watching the scene unfold, she added softly, “Assistant An said it’s an important event. We can treat it like a night out.”

She held Xin Yan’s gaze the whole time. Under her bright, earnest eyes, Xin Yan found it hard to look away.

Clearing her throat, she set down her cup. Her tone softened. “Song Xizi will be there too. Don’t you not want to see her?”

Bei Lanlan paused… then smiled. “If you’re with me, I won’t see anyone else.”

Xin Yan: “…”

Her cheeks flushed slightly.

An Zhiyuan, meanwhile, had just revised his opinion of Bei Lanlan yet again.

A master player. Respect.