Transmigrated As The Cannon Fodder Ex-Wife Of A Scumbag Alpha - Chapter 24.1

“I didn’t… I’m not lying to you, he really is…”

You really couldn’t blame the boss for judging by appearances. Zhao Zhiyi was dressed cleanly and stood there like a young master from a wealthy family, he and an old hoodlum like Zhao Jing looked like creatures from two different worlds.

Meng Ze said: “Since he owes you money, how he pays you back is for you to figure out. I won’t disturb you any further.”

“Hey, brother.” The boss squinted and said, “What’s your story?”

“He owes me something too,” Meng Ze said. “But it’s not convenient for me to take action lately, so I’ve brought him back to you.”

The boss understood: “Oh, going legit, are we? Alright, thanks for the favor.”

He instructed his lackeys: “Drag him inside! Dammit, trying to run away while owing me money. I have to cut off his hand today to teach him a lesson!”

Zhao Jing began to struggle wildly, shouting Zhao Zhiyi’s name randomly, but his mouth was quickly covered and he was dragged away. The boss wanted to chat more with Meng Ze, but when he turned around, the man had already vanished without a trace.

“…Is it just over, just like that?” Zhao Zhiyi followed Meng Ze, feeling dazed. “He won’t come looking for me again later? What if that boss believes Zhao Jing’s lies and lets him go…”

“Don’t worry about that.” Meng Ze’s voice was calm. He stood at the entrance of an alley, looking into the pitch-black buildings: “We’re almost at your house. Do you want to invite me in for a look?”

Zhao Zhiyi snapped back to reality, only then realizing he had followed Meng Ze to the original host’s doorstep.

It made sense, Xingwang Mahjong Parlor wasn’t far away to begin with.

And although Meng Ze phrased it as a question, the meaning was no different from “You must invite me in.”

“There’s nothing much to see.” Looking at the dirty and messy little alleyway, Zhao Zhiyi actually felt a slight sense of kinship.

Perhaps there was a reason he had transmigrated into this book; the original host’s living conditions were so similar to his own.

“We’re already here.”

“…Alright.” Zhao Zhiyi took out his phone and turned on the flashlight. “There are no lights inside, and there are open sewers on both sides. Be careful.”

“Mm.”

“You’ve never been to a place like this, have you?” Zhao Zhiyi said. “Can you even imagine that such places exist in this world?”

Meng Ze was silent for a moment before answering: “I’ve been to places like this.”

Zhao Zhiyi was startled. Meng Ze patted his shoulder: “Walk a bit closer to me, the clothes hanging above are still dripping water.”

“Oh.”

The two of them walked into the old tenement building. The stairs were narrow and cramped. Zhao Zhiyi was fine, but with Meng Ze’s height and build, he had to be quite careful on such narrow stairs. Guided by memory, they reached the door of the rental unit. Zhao Zhiyi remembered something awkward: “…I didn’t bring the key.”

Meng Ze placed something in his hand. Zhao Zhiyi was surprised: “Where did this come from?”

“It fell out of Zhao Jing’s pocket.”

Zhao Zhiyi suspected it didn’t just “fall out,” but he didn’t ask further. He used the key to open the door, and a gust of sour, stinking alcohol smell hit them. Zhao Zhiyi covered his nose with his scarf: “…How is this any different from a gas bomb?”

Meng Ze let out a soft chuckle.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go in after all.” Zhao Zhiyi frowned. “It hasn’t been cleaned in a long time.”

He even suspected that Zhao Jing hadn’t cleaned once since the original host left.

“It’s fine,” Meng Ze said. “Let’s see.”

Zhao Zhiyi had no choice but to follow him inside. The rental wasn’t big. The only bedroom was naturally Zhao Jing’s, and the original host slept in a small cubicle partitioned off from the living room. Everything inside had been smashed and trashed, showing how furious Zhao Jing had been when he couldn’t contact the original host.

Meng Ze bent down and picked up a smashed photo frame from the floor. Zhao Zhiyi said: “It’s a photo with my grandmother.”

Perhaps because of the merged memories, he felt a great deal of affection for this kind, gentle elderly woman. He leaned in next to Meng Ze to look at the photo and said, “This must be the only photo. I want to take it with me.”

“Mm.” Meng Ze took the photo out and tucked it into Zhao Zhiyi’s pocket. “Take all your things with you.”

Zhao Zhiyi went blank for a second. He looked up, suddenly realizing that Meng Ze had brought him here to make a clean break with this place.

From now on, he had nothing to do with that scumbag Zhao Jing, and nothing to do with the oppressive and painful memories here.

“…Meng Ze.” Zhao Zhiyi bit his lip. “Why… why are you helping me so much?”

Meng Ze was looking at the well-preserved textbooks on the simple desk. He turned around upon hearing the question.

The ceiling of the rental was too low, and the cubicle was small, so Meng Ze had to stoop slightly. He stood three steps away from Zhao Zhiyi, looking at him, and said: “When you looked up at me back then.”

“Your eyes were asking me for help.”

“I…” Zhao Zhiyi choked up.

He had indeed felt great satisfaction when he beat Zhao Jing, but that was followed by an immense emptiness. It was just like back then, when he had sharpened his kitchen knife over and over until it was razor sharp, only to receive the news that the degenerate had been killed in a car accident and taken to the police station.

Zhao Zhiyi had once thought that perhaps he had inherited that scumbag’s violent tendencies, which was why he killed his father thousands of times in his mind every day. He thought he would eventually become the same kind of trash that everyone despised.

So at that moment, he had been subconsciously calling for help.

“Don’t overthink it.” Meng Ze patted his head, his voice very light. “How old are you? You have a long road ahead of you. Of course you won’t sink into the mire because of someone like Zhao Jing.”

Zhao Zhiyi opened his mouth, but he couldn’t say anything.

He suddenly realized that Meng Ze really was eight years older than him and had much more life experience. Although he was a twisted neurotic in the original novel who went crazy whenever he met Su Jiyu, what he was saying now really made sense.

“Anything else to take?” Meng Ze asked.

“No.” Zhao Zhiyi shook his head, touching the photo in his pocket. “This is enough.”

Meng Ze walked out a few steps, and seeing Zhao Zhiyi still standing there, he frowned and held out his hand. “Come here.”

Zhao Zhiyi subconsciously took his warm, dry hand and let him lead him out of the rental unit that had been a nightmare for the original host.

It was now early evening, and streetlights were beginning to flicker on. In the distance, in the more prosperous parts of the city, neon lights intertwined and cars flowed like water. Zhao Zhiyi let out a puff of white mist and, walking along the cold and quiet suburban street with Meng Ze, he finally asked: “Meng Ze, I heard from Zhan Yue that you set up a scholarship at A University and put it in my name.”

“That is true,” Meng Ze replied. “I originally wanted to name it after you, but I was afraid you’d be shy, so I didn’t go through with that.”

Zhao Zhiyi: “…Good thing you didn’t.”

The Zhiyi Award… the name alone made his toes curl.

“Why did you do that?” Zhao Zhiyi said. “It must cost a lot of money.”

Meng Ze: “Is it a lot?”

Zhao Zhiyi: “…” Sometimes he really wanted to pin Meng Ze to the ground and beat him up.

“The rumors at school were very unpleasant,” Meng Ze explained. “I asked the school leaders, and even they knew about it. Even though you don’t go to school much because you have few classes, there’s no need for you to suffer that kind of grievance because of me.”

“I don’t care…”

Meng Ze said gently, “I know you don’t care what others say or think of you.”

He looked at Zhao Zhiyi. “But I care.”

Thump. Zhao Zhiyi heard his own heart skip a beat.

His heart rate was erratic, and his language function collapsed, he felt like an AI experiencing a program error, his mind full of junk code.

“It’s about time.” Meng Ze suddenly placed his phone into Zhao Zhiyi’s hand.

Zhao Zhiyi held it blankly. “What for? Do you want me to take a photo of you? Although you’re very handsome right now, it’s pitch black here…”

Meng Ze laughed and tapped his cheek with a knuckle that had been cooled by the wind. “I want you to call the police.”

“Huh?”

“Report that people are gathering to gamble for large sums of money at Xingwang Mahjong Parlor.” Meng Ze said, “This amount of time should have been enough for Zhao Jing to lose two fingers.”

Zhao Zhiyi was stunned.

“I thought that by handing Zhao Jing over to his creditors, the matter was settled.”

Meng Ze: “That’s why I said you’re still a kid.”

“Weren’t you worried he might come back to trouble you later?” Meng Ze lowered his head, brushing away the hair on Zhao Zhiyi’s forehead. His gaze fell on the medicated cotton on his temple, and his voice was slightly cold: “Don’t worry, he’ll be sentenced to life imprisonment. You’ll never see him again for the rest of your life.”

Zhao Zhiyi stared at him blankly.

“However, this kind of method isn’t exactly fair and square.” Meng Ze tapped his nose again: “Don’t learn from this.”