Oops, I’m the Scumbag Ex in Her Storyline - Chapter 54

This hotel belonged to Song Xizi. Whenever her company had something important, it was always held here.

Xin Yan wandered around like a headless fly before she finally found her. Bei Lanlan was standing on a half-open terrace strung with star-shaped lights, her back facing outward, expression unreadable.

The moment Xin Yan saw her, half the weight pressing down on her chest lifted. She walked over cautiously, ready to use the opening line she had prepared in advance.

“Why is it that whenever you’re upset, you insist on running outside to freeze in the cold wind…?”

Bei Lanlan’s hand tightened around the stone railing. She turned, her eyes icy, instantly silencing the rest of Xin Yan’s words.

Xin Yan instinctively straightened her posture, immediately abandoning any thought of lightening the mood. Adjusting her expression, she said quickly, “I didn’t know she’d be here today. I didn’t realize she could still affect me. I thought… I thought I was past all that.”

Bei Lanlan let out a short laugh. “So what—you just found out you’re not over it? What now, planning to re-examine your feelings again? Maybe, just like her influence on you never faded, your feelings for her never did either?”

Xinyan: “…”

She glanced up at the sky. December, not June—snowfall at this time of year wasn’t unusual.

With a sigh, she lowered her gaze and said quietly, “After my parents died, Jing Chu was the first—and the only one—who approached me without ulterior motives.”

Bei Lanlan’s fingers twitched.

She had known Xin Yan and Jing Chu were acquainted, but she hadn’t known there was this kind of history between them.

Xin Yan took her time organizing her words, speaking slowly: “When my parents were alive, I’d never exchanged a word with her. Even if the elders arranged for us to eat together, we just focused on our own plates—no interaction at all.

Before the funeral, it had probably been a year, maybe two, since I’d last seen her. At the funeral, everyone came to comfort me—she came too. But there were so many people telling me to be strong, I can’t even remember what she said.”

Bei Lanlan listened in silence. This was a past that belonged only to Xin Yan and Jing Chu, one she had never been part of. Hearing it felt like self-inflicted torture, yet she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt.

Thankfully, Xin Yan went on. “What I do remember… is that she didn’t tell me to be strong. She took me to her piano room, let me sit there, and played for me.”

“And then…” Xin Yan paused, smiling faintly, “I fell asleep there.”

Bei Lanlan saw that relaxed, nostalgic smile and suddenly asked, “How did you sleep?”

Xin Yan blinked. She spoke slowly because she was recalling, but those two days were etched vividly into the body’s memory. She didn’t need long to be sure. “In twelve years, that was the best sleep I ever had.”

Twelve years—the same length of time since her parents’ death.

Meaning, from then on, the original owner hadn’t slept peacefully even once.

Bei Lanlan lowered her head. Her anger had ebbed, but a quiet despair remained.

The comfort Jing Chu gave Xin Yan was something she could never replace.

Seeing Bei Lanlan’s mood sink, Xin Yan knew she was overthinking again. She stepped forward, clasped Bei Lanlan’s frozen, whitened hand, and pressed it against her own stomach, using her warmth to thaw it.

With their bodies so close, Xin Yan instinctively softened her voice, gazing at Bei Lanlan with tenderness. “Listen to me finish before you start feeling sad again, okay? For twelve years, I’ve been trying to recapture that state, just to sleep well, without distraction. For that goal, I clung to Jing Chu. I never missed her concerts; if I couldn’t go, I asked others to record them for me. I thought what made me sleep was Jing Chu—or her music. But now I know just how wrong I was.”

Bei Lanlan lifted her eyes, wide. “It wasn’t?”

Xin Yan gave a helpless little smile. “Of course not. These days, I sleep soundly every night. Want to guess why?”

Bei Lanlan hesitated, then, for once, dared to say, “Because of me.”

Xinyan: “…”

Well. Confidence was a good thing.

She paused, then nodded. “You’re part of it. But the bigger reason is that I figured things out.”

“I was hiding in the shadow of my parents’ death, refusing to step out. I blamed my sleeplessness on the parents who were gone, and I credited my rare good sleep to Jing Chu, who never truly belonged to me. It was as if every part of my life needed an excuse tied to someone else. But the truth is, they didn’t owe me anything—I owed it to myself.”

“Her engagement woke me up. I’ve grown up. I’m no longer the little girl who needed her parents’ protection, nor the weakling who needed someone’s comfort to stop crying. It’s time I moved forward and started a new life of my own.”

As she spoke, she kept her eyes on Bei Lanlan.

When she saw Bei Lanlan’s expression soften with emotion, Xin Yan secretly wiped imaginary sweat from her brow, then allowed herself a bit of smugness.

Not bad—she’d managed to patch up all the lies she’d told before. Who knew she had such a knack for deception?

Bei Lanlan’s voice snapped her back down to earth.

“What did you just say?” she asked blankly, as though she’d missed part of it.

Xinyan: “…”

Mercifully, Bei Lanlan let her off the hook this time, her voice gentler as she repeated, “So you don’t like Jing Chu anymore?”

Xin Yan almost laughed. Why were they back here again? “Of course not! If I still liked her, I’d have chased after her just now.”

Bei Lanlan’s face darkened. Given the good atmosphere, she decided to pretend she hadn’t heard that last part. After a pause, she asked, “Then… in this new life of yours, do I have a place?”

Xin Yan blinked at her. On the quiet terrace, a sudden impulse rose within her. She fumbled for her bag, only to realize she’d only brought a clutch tonight—inside was just her phone.

Awkwardly, she dug through her phone folders for that divorce agreement.

Once she found it, she quickly handed it to Bei Lanlan.

Curious, Bei Lanlan thought she was about to show her something important. But when she saw the words “Divorce Agreement,” she fell silent for a long time.

Had Xin Yan not spoken, she might have hurled the phone straight off the sixth floor.

Xin Yan’s voice wavered. Having to be the one confessing—twice in two lifetimes—left her hands trembling, not knowing where to put them. “Let’s… start over. Okay?”

Bei Lanlan stared at the screen, her gaze unfocused.

When she didn’t answer, Xin Yan panicked, assuming she was rejecting her. She hadn’t prepared for rejection. She stood there helplessly.

“You don’t want to? Still mad? Or… or maybe you don’t even like me?”

“I like you.”

Xin Yan froze. Bei Lanlan lowered the phone and met her eyes. “I like you.”

She had denied it so many times. This was the first, and only, time she admitted it.

Luckily, the only one who heard was Xin Yan. If she had to embarrass herself, at least it was just in front of her.

Even with Xin Yan’s shaky emotional intelligence, she had noticed. Naturally, Bei Lanlan—whose EQ was far higher—had long since realized it herself.

She just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Admitting meant lowering her defenses, admitting she’d fallen for someone who had once hurt her. But then again…

Whether she admitted it or not changed nothing.

Watching Xin Yan’s tightly pressed lips curve into an irrepressible smile, Bei Lanlan couldn’t help thinking that maybe she should have said it earlier. If she had, they both could have been spared some suffering.

Xin Yan stood stiffly, unsure whether to move forward or lift her hands, looking utterly lost. With a sigh, Bei Lanlan relented, closing the distance herself, burying herself in Xin Yan’s arms.

They embraced tightly. Yet Xin Yan felt the contact wasn’t enough—too much like before, with nothing truly different.

She wanted more, something to prove her confession had been accepted, to quiet the unrest in her heart.

Just as she was thinking this, Bei Lanlan murmured against her chest, “The divorce agreement—I’ll sign it when we get home.”

Then she added, “But until I agree, you’re not allowed to notarize it.”

She tightened her arms around her. “Only when I’m certain you’ll never leave me again will I make the divorce official.”

Holding her, Xin Yan couldn’t help but laugh. Once she’d found that domineering streak exasperating; now, she found it both frank and endearing.

“Fine, we’ll do it your way. After you sign, you can even keep it yourself.”

Bei Lanlan’s eyes lit up, lifting her head. Xin Yan was staring at her, unwavering. Their gazes locked. Bei Lanlan froze, her body still, while Xin Yan read the silent invitation.

She leaned down.

Their lips brushed lightly for a few seconds. When Xin Yan pulled back, her gaze stayed fixed on Bei Lanlan. But Bei Lanlan turned slightly away, cheeks flushed.

She shifted uneasily, trying to pull free. “We should head back out…”

“Wait.”

Xin Yan’s voice was low, solemn. Bei Lanlan looked up instinctively, finding her brows drawn tight. “…What is it?”

Xin Yan pressed a finger to her lips, whispering like a vow: “Let me try again.”

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Behind the terrace curtains, Song Xizi had no idea how long she’d been standing there. When silence settled inside, she lingered a little longer, then finally turned to leave.

Her face, however, carried the look of someone questioning their entire worldview.

She hadn’t misheard, right? Xin Yan… was actually serious this time?