Oops, I’m the Scumbag Ex in Her Storyline - Chapter 36

An Zhiyuan would also help Xin Yan fend people off, but his method was to say a word or two and then simply send them away.

Lanlan, on the other hand, really spoke up for Xin Yan. She made people feel that being courteous to her was equivalent to being courteous to Xin Yan.

It wasn’t hard to understand. No matter how capable An Zhiyuan was, at the end of the day, he was just an assistant. Lanlan, however, was different—she was the first woman Xin Yan had ever brought to a public event.

If it had been Song Xizi, who once brought twelve companions at once, no one would have batted an eye. But Xin Yan was famously single. Even though everyone knew about her history of chasing Jing Chu, it didn’t stop them from thinking—maybe she was finally settling down.

In this industry, liking someone and marrying someone were two different things.

Especially when Xin Yan had Lanlan wear that set of jewelry. The average person might not recognize it, but anyone familiar with the Xin family—especially the older ladies—would.

After all, Xin Yan’s mother wore it at her wedding. Xin Yan herself had worn it again for her fourteenth birthday celebration.

The society matrons present might not remember Xin Yan’s age or even her name, but they definitely remembered the clothes and jewelry she wore.

And once one of them remembered, the whole ballroom knew.

A mother’s wedding dowry—was that something you gave away so casually?

Good heavens. Was Xin Yan getting married?

Poor Xin Yan. She hadn’t thought that far at all. She had a ton of jewelry and could’ve picked another set to match Lanlan’s dress. But this particular one stood out in her memory, and the moment she saw the dress was pink, she had someone fetch the set right away.

She truly didn’t think it was a big deal. But unfortunately, she was the only one who felt that way.

Even Lanlan sensed that this set of jewelry carried weight.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Lanlan was suddenly overcome by the urge to take a picture and send it to her mom.

She wasn’t vain, and she wasn’t one to flaunt photos. But right now, she just wanted to prove to her mother that everything she had said was true—that Xin Yan genuinely cared for her, that she wasn’t the only one invested.

Standing in the restroom, she had already washed her hands, but didn’t leave. She lowered her head and gently stroked the ring on her ring finger.

“Is this the first ring Xin Yan’s given you?”

A voice came from behind her. Lanlan froze, then turned to see Song Xizi walking out of a stall.

Her gaze shifted from Lanlan’s necklace to her face. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Lanlan dropped her hand. “I have nothing to say to you.”

She could beam like a flower at old men, but when it came to Song Xizi, she couldn’t even be bothered to spare her a glance.

Xin Yan had many people around her. If we’re talking about closeness, An Zhiyuan was actually the one who was always by her side. But Lanlan’s hostility was reserved solely for Song Xizi.

Not wanting to stay any longer, Lanlan lifted her skirt and turned to leave. As she passed by Song Xizi, the latter suddenly said:

“You like Xin Yan.”

It wasn’t a question. Not a guess. Just a statement of certainty.

Just a few simple words, but they stopped Lanlan in her tracks. She frowned and turned her head, only to see Song Xizi looking back at her, calm and composed.

“I just don’t understand—if you like her, why do you hate me?”

…

An Zhiyuan had gone off to network with other assistants. Lanlan had gone to the restroom, but had been gone far too long.

Xin Yan stood nearby, waiting. The glass of water she had asked for was already empty. She glanced around at the trays—wine, wine, wine, more wine.

Typical of an event hosted by old men… Would it kill them to serve some juice?

It had become an unspoken rule over the years: since all the guests were adults and came with partners, it was just assumed everyone drank alcohol. Non-alcoholic options weren’t even considered.

Xin Yan rolled her eyes. With so many old men around, how come none of them had liver cirrhosis?

As she searched the trays for anything else, someone approached. Their eyes met, and both froze.

Kong Zhiluo.

She had been invited as well. Technically, she should’ve greeted Xin Yan the moment she arrived—after all, Xin Yan was now her boss.

But Xin Yan hadn’t shown up when she signed the contract, and throughout all the events—commercials, press conferences—Xin Yan never showed her face. The message had been clear.

That suited Kong Zhiluo just fine. Business was business. If her boss didn’t want a personal relationship, that made things easier.

She just hadn’t expected to run into her here. And so suddenly.

Xin Yan didn’t know what was going through Kong Zhiluo’s head. But Xin Yan’s own thoughts were crystal clear:

Lanlan, save me.

…

Having gotten used to relying on Lanlan, Xin Yan was now at a complete loss. They couldn’t just keep standing there awkwardly, so she hesitated, then grabbed a glass of wine from a tray to mask the tension. Then, with her usual aloofness, she nodded at Kong Zhiluo.

After that, she turned and walked away. Her steps seemed calm, but her arm was stiff. And the moment she encountered the next waiter, she quietly set the untouched wine glass down.

Kong Zhiluo: “…”

Honestly, she’d never really known Xin Yan before. But this Xin Yan seemed… not quite as clever as Jing Chu had described.

A little… airheaded, maybe?

…

Regaining her composure, Xin Yan headed for the restroom.

Her nerves were still too fragile. Kong Zhiluo brought with her too much pressure. It wasn’t from Lanlan—it was from Jing Chu. Just seeing Kong Zhiluo brought Jing Chu to mind, and with that came a flood of memories from those ten humiliating years of being a lovesick fool.

It was unbearable to recall. Even if she told herself it was the “original” Xin Yan who had acted that way, she was now the original Xin Yan. She couldn’t help but feel secondhand embarrassment.

Especially knowing that Kong Zhiluo and Jing Chu were now together—and yet the original Xin Yan had kept being a clingy mess. There were several times she’d called Jing Chu, only for Kong Zhiluo to pick up instead.

And Kong Zhiluo—she was impressive too. She would hand the phone over without missing a beat, tone calm and unbothered. That kind of composure was rare.

Or maybe… she’d never taken Xin Yan seriously to begin with.

It made sense. Given how Jing Chu treated Xin Yan, no one would consider her a threat.

Overwhelmed with awkwardness, pain, and a touch of melancholy, Xin Yan finally pushed open the restroom door—only to find it completely empty.

She blinked, stepped out again, and happened to run into Lanlan.

“You came out already?” she asked.

Lanlan nodded. “I went looking for you. Didn’t see you, so I figured you came looking for me.”

Xin Yan smiled, not mentioning the run-in with Kong Zhiluo. “Wait a second. Let me wash my hands too.”

By the time they returned, the mingling was mostly over. A representative from the organizers went on stage to give a speech about all the contributions they’d made in the past year—how the world couldn’t turn without them. Then came the charity auction.

The host presented a few items. Everyone could bid casually. All proceeds would be donated.

These weren’t serious auctions, so there was never anything truly valuable—just odd trinkets or works by still-living artists.

Everyone watched the stage. Xin Yan did too, but she leaned slightly toward Lanlan and whispered, “If you see something you like, raise your paddle.”

At the entrance, they’d been handed numbered paddles. Xin Yan had given hers to Lanlan. Lanlan looked at her, then nodded.

Like Xin Yan, she didn’t think there was anything worth bidding on, but it was a charity event. You had to donate something—otherwise, it wouldn’t look good.

Midway through, a decent modern painting came up. Lanlan raised her paddle.

Starting bid: 20,000. Each raise: 5,000. That was typical—just enough to gather donations without bleeding anyone dry.

It ended at 105,000, with Lanlan taking the painting.

The spotlight was on the stage, but the area below was dim enough that Xin Yan could speak softly and still be heard.

She leaned in and whispered in Lanlan’s ear, “Where do you plan to hang it?”

Lanlan turned her head toward her, and because she wasn’t as tall, her movement brushed the top of her head against Xin Yan’s cheek.

Completely unaware, she whispered playfully, “Hang it? Do I have to? I just bid for fun.”

It tickled a little, and made Xin Yan a bit shy. She glanced around—no one was paying attention—so she relaxed and smiled. “Then give it to Assistant An. Consider it a thank-you for coming all this way.”

Lanlan looked up and smiled, nodding.

The auction continued. They reached the grand finale—a surprise gift box. No one knew what was inside.

Xin Yan had seen it once. The “prize” was dinner with a little-known actress.

She had no fame, but she had a face and figure that rivaled any top star. No wonder she was chosen as the bait.

Lanlan glanced at Xin Yan, and the moment she did, Xin Yan knew what she was about to ask. She quickly shook her head and gently pressed down on Lanlan’s arm.

“Don’t bid. It’s not for you.”

Lanlan obeyed. Her hand lowered.

Just as Xin Yan was about to let go, her expression suddenly froze.

Noticing the increased pressure on her arm, Lanlan blinked in confusion. “Xin Yan?”

Xin Yan suddenly let go of her and strode quickly toward a corner of the room.

There was no one else there—just a waiter in uniform.

When he saw Xin Yan approaching, he looked confused, but she knew he was only pretending. Her expression cold, Xin Yan extended her hand toward him. “Hand it over.”

Bei Lanlan had followed a couple of steps behind and saw the situation unfold but didn’t understand what was going on.

Xin Yan hadn’t called for help, nor raised her voice—clearly, she didn’t want to make a scene. Though Bei Lanlan couldn’t figure out her reasoning, the man knew better than to push his luck.

Silently, he handed over his phone.

Xin Yan turned on the screen and immediately noticed it was brand new—no signs of use. But once unlocked, she saw the recent photos. Swiping through them, she found they were all pictures of Bei Lanlan taken during the auction.

After locking the phone, Xin Yan looked up again, her expression no longer just cold.

She stepped closer and warned in a low voice, “I don’t care who sent you. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

With that, she turned and walked away. Bei Lanlan quickly came up to her. “What just happened?”

Xin Yan hadn’t yet adjusted her expression, looking visibly irritated. Afraid of making Bei Lanlan worry, she forced a small smile. “It’s nothing. Just a paparazzo trying to make a headline out of us. I warned him—he won’t dare try again.”

Bei Lanlan felt something wasn’t right. The venue had extremely tight security—why else would so many influential figures gather here? What kind of paparazzo could infiltrate a place like this?

And if it really was just a paparazzo, was Xin Yan’s anger truly warranted?

She tried to ask more questions indirectly, but Xin Yan skillfully deflected and changed the subject. After an incident like that, Xin Yan had no desire to stay, and since Bei Lanlan had already accomplished her goal, the two left with the painting.

On the way back, Xin Yan barely spoke. When they arrived home, she went straight to her room. Bei Lanlan followed her upstairs and, just as Xin Yan was about to shut her door, she stepped forward to stop it.

Feeling the resistance, Xin Yan turned around in surprise and saw Bei Lanlan. “Something else?” she asked.

Bei Lanlan softened her voice. “I’m a little worried. What really happened? Can’t you tell me? I want to help—and I want to be there for you.”

Normally, this gentle approach worked. But not this time. Xin Yan blinked, then gave a natural, relaxed smile.

“It’s nothing. Just tired from the party—you know I don’t like those kinds of events. I think I’ll start avoiding them. Anyway, it’s late. You should get some rest. Staying up late isn’t good for you.”

Her expression was flawless.

Bei Lanlan pressed her lips together as she watched the door close in front of her. After a moment, she turned and went back to her own room.

Staying up late isn’t good for you.

But sometimes, staying up late isn’t a choice.

Lying in bed, Bei Lanlan stared at the ceiling, sleep nowhere in sight.

Because every time she closed her eyes, she heard what Song Xizi had said earlier that night.

In the restroom, Song Xizi told her she liked Xin Yan. Bei Lanlan hadn’t confirmed or denied it.

Her response was: “You don’t know me that well.”

Song Xizi had nodded in agreement. “True. We’ve only met a few times. It’s hard to really know someone in such a short period.”

Then her tone shifted slightly. “But I’ve known Xin Yan for nearly a lifetime. Maybe I don’t understand you, but I do understand her.”

She smiled faintly. “Want to hear a secret? An exclusive one. No charge.”

Bei Lanlan knew she should’ve walked away then and there—this woman had too much influence on her emotions. Listening to her felt like falling under a spell. But her feet didn’t move. She stood there, staring at Song Xizi.

With a sigh, Song Xizi said, “You’re young, but that temper of yours—what’s so bad about yielding once in a while? Flexibility is the key to survival.”

Bei Lanlan didn’t appreciate being talked down to. “Don’t use that same tone you use on your lovers with me.”

Song Xizi gave a low chuckle. “My lovers are far more mature than you. At least they know how to greet people with a smile.”

That was the final straw. Bei Lanlan turned to leave, but Song Xizi casually added, “Xin Yan doesn’t like Jing Chu.”

Bei Lanlan stopped and turned back. “I know.”

Song Xizi raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking otherwise. “What I mean is— Xin Yan has never, not once, liked Jing Chu.”

Bei Lanlan frowned, certain now that Song Xizi was just playing games.

Seeing the doubt on her face, Song Xizi said gently, “I’m just giving you a heads-up. Xin Yan isn’t someone who’ll fall for anyone. You might not believe me now, but you’ll see eventually. After all, more than anyone else—you want to know who she could love, right?”

Bei Lanlan lowered her gaze—and laughed.

“Sometimes I truly don’t understand how someone can be so arrogant as to think they can see straight into another person’s heart.”

Song Xizi wasn’t someone who laughed often. When she did, it was usually to charm a lover or mock someone. But even when she didn’t laugh, she still gave the impression of being approachable.

Right now, however, her expression had cooled.

“You think you’re smart. You think you’re different from Jing Chu. Fine—go ahead and try. See what you can get from Xin Yan. Money? Attention? Devotion? Jing Chu had all those. What else do you have? Her fears? Her shadows? Equal footing? Her asking for your help? Any sign that you’ve truly entered her inner world—do you have even one of those?”

She didn’t.

It had always been Xin Yan reaching out to her, helping her, stepping into her heart. As for what Xin Yan was thinking, what she needed—Bei Lanlan didn’t know at all.

Or rather, she thought she knew. Xin Yan did confide in her sometimes—but only about things that related to Bei Lanlan herself, never truly about Xin Yan.

When it came to Xin Yan’s world, she was still an outsider.

Bei Lanlan couldn’t sleep—and neither could Xin Yan.

Elsewhere, in the tightly curtained VIP ward of a rehabilitation clinic, Lu Wanqiu also lay awake.

She sat upright in her hospital bed, her black hair still soft and well-kept. The nurses were off-duty, and the caregivers were her people—no one would stop her from staying up late.

She was intently watching her computer.

An hour ago, her caregiver had brought in a hidden camera—disguised as a tie. It was subtle enough that no one had noticed it.

But he only brought the camera. The phone had been confiscated by Xin Yan.

Lu Wanqiu hadn’t said much—just picked up the camera and reviewed the footage.

The camera operator had stayed discreet, not following Xin Yan but filming her from a distance. Most of the footage captured her mingling with guests, often talking to Bei Lanlan. Occasionally, the angle wasn’t ideal, and Xin Yan wasn’t clearly visible—but Bei Lanlan, on the other hand, was filmed very clearly.

Watching Bei Lanlan’s focused, trusting gaze, Lu Wanqiu showed no reaction.

Her eyes lifted slightly—her attention was on someone else entirely.

The footage soon neared its end. As Xin Yan began walking toward the camera, Lu Wanqiu felt an odd sense that she was walking directly toward her.

As she got closer, Xin Yan’s voice was captured clearly. Lu Wanqiu immediately turned up the volume—just in time to hear Xin Yan’s threatening words.

“So fierce,” Lu Wanqiu murmured softly.

“But…” she propped her head on one hand and gently tapped the paused image of Xin Yan with the other, “I’ve never been one to follow orders.”