The Five Heartless Scumbag Alphas Turned Against Each Other Because Of Me - Chapter 90

Zheng Jinyu felt a twinge of guilt. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to meet Cheng Yuan’s smiling gaze.

She looked away awkwardly, her voice faltering.
“L-Long time no see.”
After a brief silence, she added stiffly,
“What a coincidence… you’re here too.”

She didn’t ask why Cheng Yuan was here—didn’t dare to ask.
And because Cheng Yuan was here, she also couldn’t bring herself to turn to Tan Hua and show any concern, or ask about her condition.

Would Cheng Yuan think she’d completely moved on? That she’d transferred her feelings, then thrown all that leftover resentment onto Tan Hua instead?

Still, Zheng Jinyu held onto a sliver of reason.
To her, Cheng Yuan was still that kind, pure girl she once cherished—there was no way she’d stoop to anything so vindictive or petty.

“Yeah,” Cheng Yuan nodded with a calm smile.
“I was the one who brought her to the hospital.”

A flicker of doubt flashed through Zheng Jinyu’s eyes—but it vanished so quickly, one could almost dismiss it as a trick of the light.

She hesitated, then didn’t ask for details.
Instead, she said with quiet sincerity:
“Thank you.”

Cheng Yuan’s smile deepened, lips curving with polite distance.
“No need to thank me, Jinyu-jiejie. You’re being too formal.”

The entire exchange was dry—uncomfortably dry. Tan Hua, who had been expecting fireworks, couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

She’d been hoping for a classic blow-up between the female lead and Zheng Jinyu. Maybe they’d fight. Maybe they’d sever ties altogether.
That would’ve been perfect—no more drawn-out chapters full of emotional agony.

Tan Hua was this close to lighting a match and fanning the flames herself, but the system caught on fast and clamped down on her thoughts.

“Host! We’re on the warm and redemptive arc now, remember? Not the revenge-fueled soap opera route!”

“So maybe don’t stir the pot when two adults are trying to figure things out!”

Tan Hua choked on her own rising pettiness.
She was unconvinced… but the system had a point.

“…Fine.” She said reluctantly.

The system finally exhaled in relief.

Only for Tan Hua to immediately add:
“Let’s see how the plot develops. If it still follows the original trajectory, with no changes at all—”

“Then I will intervene.”

System: “…”

Please, it prayed silently, just let one of the Alphas act like a decent human being… or the entire storyline is going off a cliff.

With Tan Hua staying quiet, Zheng Jinyu and Cheng Yuan’s awkward conversation came to a natural, stilted end—leaving the room in an almost suffocating silence.

Seeing Tan Hua lying there in the hospital bed made Zheng Jinyu visibly uneasy. After a moment’s hesitation, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I’m going to check on her,” she said to Cheng Yuan, then strode across the room to Tan Hua’s bedside.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Didn’t you leave with Tang Yanrou and the others earlier? How did you end up in a car accident on Huazhao Street?”

Her brows furrowed deeply.
“Did you sneak off when they weren’t paying attention?”

Tan Hua raised an eyebrow.
Wow. Really?

“What do you mean, sneak off? Am I a prisoner now?” she retorted.
“Why wouldn’t I be allowed to go where I want?”

“Besides,” she added, voice sharp as she narrowed her eyes,
“Why do you care where I go?”

But then something clicked. She paused, squinting at Zheng Jinyu.
“Wait. How did you know the exact street I had the accident on?”

Tan Hua slowly sat up in bed, her expression turning dangerous.

“Are you spying on me?” she demanded.
“Did you put a tracker on me or something?”

“Wasn’t it you who sent me the message?”
Zheng Jinyu looked genuinely confused as she pulled out her phone and showed Tan Hua the message she’d received.

Tan Hua squinted at the screen.
It was her number.
But… she had zero memory of sending that message.

A chill ran down her spine.
Had her survival instinct been so strong that, even in a dazed, semi-conscious state, she’d somehow pulled out her phone and texted Zheng Jinyu?

Otherwise, she truly couldn’t explain the total blank in her memory.

Feeling unsure, Tan Hua’s confidence wavered a little.
She gave a sheepish laugh.
“So I really was the one who called you over, huh…”

Zheng Jinyu gave her a helpless look.
Well, yes. Unless a ghost got hold of your phone.

Now that things were cleared up, Zheng Jinyu sat on the edge of the bed, concern lining her face.
“Were you seriously hurt? Let me take a look.”

She reached for Tan Hua’s arm—but Tan Hua instinctively pulled back.

Then, casually, she snuck a glance at Cheng Yuan’s expression.

Only after that did she respond:
“I’m fine. The cuts on my arm were already treated. Everything else is good too.”

Her reaction—fast and deliberate—didn’t go unnoticed.
Zheng Jinyu’s gaze dimmed.

“Tan Hua… are you still mad at me?”
Her voice dropped, gentle and coaxing, barely louder than a whisper.

“I was wrong before. I know I was. Let me apologize, okay?”
Her tone softened even more, full of guilt and tenderness, as if comforting a child.

Tan Hua felt incredibly awkward. Especially under the laser-like stare of Cheng Yuan—who was practically burning holes through her from the side.

It was impossible to ignore.

“I’m really tired right now,” Tan Hua said slowly.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”

Then, summoning her inner drama queen, she delivered the classic emotionally distant line:
“I hope you’ll respect my need for a quiet environment to rest.”

She even turned her head dramatically and closed her eyes, pretending to be too fatigued to look at Zheng Jinyu.

Even in front of Cheng Yuan, she didn’t try to soften her tone.

Zheng Jinyu felt her heart twist painfully, like it had been thrown into a blender.
Her smile froze, then cracked.

It turned bitter—like salt mixed with crushed red pepper. Humiliating and sharp.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She could only nod slowly, forcing the words out:
“Alright. I’ll just stay quietly by your side. I won’t bother you, I promise.”

Tan Hua twitched her ears at that, internally groaning.
I really want her to leave.

But Zheng Jinyu had already sat down so obediently, and since she’d promised not to disturb her… Tan Hua had no choice but to pretend she didn’t see her.

Cheng Yuan silently observed the whole exchange, her curiosity piqued.

In the past, Zheng Jinyu had been doting and gentle with her too—but never this humble.
Now, facing Tan Hua, she was almost servile. As if she owed her something deep. Something she couldn’t repay.

What could she possibly owe Tan Hua?

Had Cheng Yuan overlooked something during her investigation? Missed a vital clue?

That possibility nagged at her as she fell into deep thought.

Meanwhile, Tan Hua—after feigning exhaustion for a few minutes—quietly opened her eyes again.

Zheng Jinyu still sat there, posture slouched, shoulders drooping like a defeated soldier. Even her usually poised back looked bent under the weight of disappointment. Her entire demeanor radiated quiet grief and vulnerability.

Tan Hua hesitated. Her resolve flickered.

She couldn’t help whispering to the system,
“Do you think I’m being… too harsh on Zheng Jinyu?”

The system immediately perked up, listening closely.

Then it heard Tan Hua mutter, voice barely audible:
“Even if she wasn’t great to the original Tan Hua, that was between them. But as far as I’m concerned… she hasn’t been that bad to me.”

After a moment of silence, Tan Hua softly added:

“…Except in the beginning.”

The system, which had been listening quietly, suddenly froze with uncertainty.

The host is acting way too sentimental… too guilty…

It had a very bad feeling about this.

Usually, when Tan Hua got this calm and introspective, it meant she was quietly preparing a fatal blow—one of her signature schemes that left others reeling.

But… the system furrowed its nonexistent brows.
Zheng Jinyu shouldn’t be guilty enough to deserve the “nuclear strike” level of punishment, right?

It instinctively glanced at Zheng Jinyu—and then, all at once, it understood.

No wonder Tan Hua was hesitating. No wonder she was wavering.

Zheng Jinyu… looked dangerously beautiful right now.

Today she was dressed in a soft, casual white blouse—clean and elegant, which hugged her figure with an effortless grace. Her usual gentle demeanor was tinted with melancholy from being repeatedly rejected by Tan Hua, giving her an aura of vulnerable fragility.

A kind of delicate heartbreak that made people want to comfort her without reason.

Her brows were drawn slightly together, thick lashes casting long shadows that obscured the sorrow in her eyes. Her porcelain skin seemed almost translucent under the hospital lighting, and her expression, though faint, was enough to tug at one’s curiosity.

This version of Zheng Jinyu was almost unbeatable—a walking, breathing embodiment of a “soft blade.”
And even the system… nearly fell for it.

For one brief moment, it blanked out.
Then, with a violent mental shake, it snapped back to reality and panicked:

“Host, get it together! Don’t be fooled by a pretty face and some tragic eyeliner!”

“This is a beauty trap—classic femme fatale technique!”

Tan Hua jolted, startled by the system’s outburst. She quickly averted her gaze.
“That was close… I didn’t expect her to still be this cunning at a time like this.”

“She’s not liked the female lead.”

At that, Tan Hua instinctively turned to look at Cheng Yuan.

Cheng Yuan was standing silently, arms crossed, head slightly bowed—seemingly deep in thought. Tan Hua opened her mouth, about to call out to her…

…but then her gaze flicked back to Zheng Jinyu, and a thought suddenly struck her.

“System,” she asked cautiously,
“Are they both planning to stay here with me?”

They hadn’t seen each other in years—shouldn’t they go catch up somewhere else?

Cheng Yuan, for her part, had wanted to chat with Zheng Jinyu. Mostly to study her reactions—her guilty conscience, her discomfort, her attempts to maintain composure in front of the woman she’d once loved.

Unfortunately, just as she was about to speak—

Another figure suddenly appeared at the door.

Tall, elegant, and composed. Just like Zheng Jinyu earlier, Lu Huaixu arrived without warning, pushing open the door and stepping into the room.

Cheng Yuan’s gaze locked onto her at once. For just a split second, something unreadable flickered in her eyes.

But just as quickly, it vanished.
She didn’t say a word. She only watched, calm and quiet, as if she’d been expecting this all along.

Her attention soon drifted to Tan Hua, who now looked… completely horrified.

She clearly didn’t know Lu Huaixu would show up.

And show up this fast, no less.

Tan Hua’s eyes darted to Zheng Jinyu—who had shot up at the sound of the door opening.

Panic prickling up her spine, Tan Hua instinctively pulled the blanket up to cover herself, trying to shrink into the bed.

But it was too late.

“Tan Hua,” Lu Huaixu called, her voice low and calm.

Tan Hua flinched, then peeked out cautiously, confused by her tone.

But Lu Huaixu’s gaze had already shifted—passing over Zheng Jinyu with little interest and settling squarely on Cheng Yuan.

The two locked eyes.
Neither of them spoke.

A beat passed.
Still silence.

Tan Hua’s brow twitched. She muttered to the system:

“I knew Lu Huaixu couldn’t break free from the plot’s gravity. You don’t just ‘stop having feelings’ for the white moonlight—this is literature, not science.”

“No one falls out of love with their ‘first love’ that easily. Especially not one as devastatingly beautiful as Cheng Yuan.”

She was still muttering when—

Lu Huaixu suddenly stepped forward, stopping in front of Cheng Yuan.
Her voice was low, almost a whisper—meant only for the two of them.

“Yuan Yuan… I think I misunderstood my feelings for you all this time.”

“I may have mistaken what I felt. I probably only saw you as a sister. Nothing more.”

Tan Hua: I—

“LET ME IN. This angst arc was clearly written for me to handle!”

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