A Scummy Divorcee Alpha: Ex-Wife’s Top-Tier Soothing Agent - Chapter 6

The early autumn weather was fickle, shifting between chills and warmth. Morning light filtered through the small room’s only window, carrying floating specks of brilliant gold.

The interior was simple. Two adults were squeezed onto the modest bed, making it feel cramped. They were huddled head-to-head in a display of intimacy, yet their bodies seemed to have carved out a battlefield in that tiny space, tangled together in a struggle.

“AAAAAHHHH!!!”

A scream shattered the tranquil morning.

Du Wan jolted awake from her dreams and bounced off the bed. With her eyes still half-closed, she scrambled into her pants, muttering, “I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m going to be late for work.”

“Du Wan!” Zuo Yijia grabbed a piece of clothing and chucked it at her face. “Why am I in your bed!”

Du Wan flopped back down, catching the unfamiliar scent on the duvet. This isn’t my home. She let out a long sigh, pulled the garment over her face, and said muffledly, “Let me sleep five more minutes…”

Zuo Yijia came over to tug at her. “No sleeping! Get up!”

Unearthed from her warm blankets and sporting a head of frizzy, messy hair, Du Wan’s morning grumpiness flared. She squinted impatiently. “What do you want!”

Zuo Yijia pointed at the bed. “Explain this!”

Du Wan blinked innocently. Looking at the “fish’s” exasperated face, a spark of mischief rose in her heart.

“Does Boss Zuo not remember? Last night you threw yourself into my arms, and we—” Du Wan touched her two thumbs together and wiggled them, helpfully adding a sound effect: “Mwah~”

Memories flashed rapidly through Zuo Yijia’s mind. Her face turned ashen. She looked down—her pajamas were perfectly intact. She grabbed a mirror—no strange marks on her neck.

Zuo Yijia remained skeptical until she caught the other woman’s malicious grin. She realized she’d been teased again.

“You!”

She grabbed a throw pillow to hurl it.

Du Wan beat her to the punch and rolled off the bed.

Zuo Yijia: “Where are you going?”

Du Wan grabbed some clothes and threw them on. She had a graceful figure, not overly thin, with lean, resilient muscle lines that suited this clean, refreshing look. After dressing, she stretched her arms, pulling her dark-blue dyed hair tips out from her collar, accidentally revealing a tiny red mole on her nape.

It was small and was quickly hidden by her hair again.

Zuo Yijia subconsciously stared for an extra second.

Still holding the pillow, Zuo Yijia asked: “Where are you going?”

“Bleeeh—” Du Wan suddenly looked up and made a face. Holding onto the doorframe, she said, “No need for Boss Zuo to tell me to ‘get lost,’ I’ll get lost on my own!”

“Stay right there if you have the guts!”

The pillow Zuo Yijia threw hit the door and fell to the floor.

The person was already long gone.

“I’m starving.”

Du Wan bit the corner of a soy milk bag and took a huge gulp.

Jiang Ni stood nearby. “Du Wan, you didn’t take the car today?”

“Traffic. Cars are inconvenient. Besides,” Du Wan’s eyes darted around, and she waved a hand with a somewhat meaningful smile. “Sis, we have to keep a low profile.”

Jiang Ni nodded in approval. “True enough.”

She had picked out an assistant for Du Wan. The moment the girl walked through the door, Du Wan yelped while holding her soy milk, “Why is it you?”

Du Wan circled her once and nodded. “I saw you in the performance classroom.”

“And you gave me an autograph!” Chai Tingyan had round eyes and a round face, looking exceptionally likable, with a crisp and pleasant voice. She showed off her photo like a treasure—a production still that only showed half of the “Scummy A’s” back.

Du Wan scratched her head awkwardly. “Ting… Tingyan, right? Aren’t you an actress?”

“I don’t have the talent for acting,” Chai Tingyan lowered her head shyly. “I heard the company was hiring intern assistants, and when I heard the artist was my Senior, I came!”

Du Wan felt a pang of “failing to meet expectations” for the girl. “Are you stupid? How much is an assistant’s monthly salary?”

Chai Tingyan was quite optimistic. “I’m not doing this for the money. I volunteered for a 50% pay cut to come here.”

Du Wan: “…”

Du Wan massaged her forehead and looked to Jiang Ni for help.

Jiang Ni smiled. “Don’t worry, Tingyan isn’t short on cash.”

Regardless, Chai Tingyan became her assistant. One was a first-time celebrity, the other a first-time assistant; both felt simultaneously busy and like they had nothing to do.

The bun in Du Wan’s mouth was losing its flavor from over-chewing.

Chai Tingyan’s gaze locked onto the plastic bag in her hand, striking first: “Senior, let me throw that away for you.”

“No, no.” Du Wan stood up, flattered. “Just call me by my name.”

“Oh, I have to go to acting class.” She checked the time and breathed a sigh of relief. “Tingyan, just find something to do, don’t overwork yourself.”

With that, she bolted.

Chai Tingyan had just picked up the trash can: “Wait… Wait!”

After finishing class at noon, Du Wan was famished, drifting out of the classroom like a wandering ghost. She chewed the company-provided “light meal” like wax, poking at it half-heartedly.

Chai Tingyan walked in carrying a stack of cardboard boxes.

“I picked up your packages,” she panted, exhausted. “They should be samples sent by brand partners.”

“So many samples?” Du Wan immediately began fantasizing about designer clothes and high-end makeup.

As the box opened, Chai Tingyan pulled out a huge pack of instant noodles. Du Wan’s smile froze for a split second, then her eyes lit up, and she beamed even brighter.

Instant noodles. Her favorite beef flavor.

Du Wan: “Can I take this bag?”

Chai Tingyan opened a box of marinated eggs and looked up. “I heard you’re preparing to join a film crew. The company wants you on a diet starting recently.”

“Recently doesn’t mean tomorrow. I’ll eat two packs—no, just one.” Du Wan held up a finger, looking pitiful. “What’s the harm in one pack!”

“But…” Chai Tingyan looked conflicted. Her hands didn’t stop moving as she pulled a letter from the box.

“What’s this?” Du Wan leaned in curiously.

Chai Tingyan took one look and immediately tucked it behind her back, her guilt obvious. “Nothing!”

“Fine.” Du Wan stood up. “Then I’m taking the noodles back!”

Chai Tingyan cried out, “No!”

The envelope fell from behind her back. Du Wan picked it up and saw it was a long letter from an anti-fan, which had been collected along with the packages.

Du Wan finished reading it. “Well-written. Good prose.”

“Are you traumatized?” Chai Tingyan was aghast. “She called you unambitious and said you dress so gaudily you look like a peacock with its tail spread! That’s such an insult!”

“She’s right. I don’t have ambition, and I am pretty bad,” Du Wan said dismissively. “I don’t deserve your guys’ love at all.”

“Therefore!” Du Wan stood up, clenching her fists. “I am going to make a clean break from my past self! From now on, I am a brand new me!”

Chai Tingyan stared in a daze.

Du Wan turned to ask her, “Did I like instant noodles before?”

Chai Tingyan was unsure. “I haven’t heard so. It seems… no.”

“Good. Since I’ve decided to separate from my past, I must cultivate new hobbies and habits. I’ll start by falling in love with instant noodles!” Du Wan reached out grandly. “Hand them over!”

Chai Tingyan was so bewildered by the logic that she instinctively handed over the noodles.

Du Wan returned to the Zuo residence and finished dinner. Still thinking about those packs of instant noodles, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep, so she crept downstairs.

Pot on, water boiling, noodles in.

Du Wan hummed a happy little tune.

Just as the noodles were served into a bowl, someone came home.

Zuo Yijia entered the house, swaying slightly with her bag in hand.

She had social obligations tonight and was supposed to stay at an apartment near the office. Halfway there, she had somehow ordered the driver to take her home instead.

“Whoa, how much did you drink?” Du Wan fanned the air in front of her nose. “Stay away from me.”

Reeking of alcohol, Zuo Yijia leaned against the counter, placing an index finger to her lips. “Shh—I don’t want to wake them up.”

Du Wan couldn’t be bothered with her.

“What are you eating?” Zuo Yijia leaned down, her silver hair cascading, nearly falling into the noodle bowl. She reached out to tuck it back, the hair swaying near Du Wan’s face, making her heart skip a beat.

“Are you annoying or what?” Du Wan looked up.

The corners of Zuo Yijia’s eyes and cheeks were flushed a light red, looking like that popular “tipsy makeup” look. Except she was actually drunk; her eyes were hazy with a watery, clear luster, and even her breath was hot with alcohol.

She licked her dry lower lip and said unhurriedly, “The pot you’re using belongs to me. The bowl and chopsticks belong to me. Don’t forget, you also belong—”

“Boss Zuo probably wouldn’t like this kind of processed food, right?” Du Wan picked up a few noodles and wagged her head. “Just like Boss Zuo doesn’t like me and doesn’t want to stay with me. If it doesn’t suit you, don’t try it easily.”

Zuo Yijia’s face instantly soured. She sat on the sofa without saying a word.

It wasn’t until Du Wan noticed something was wrong and ran over that she saw Zuo Yijia hunched over, hands clutching her stomach. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and her lower lip was bitten until it bled, yet she hadn’t made a single sound.

Zuo Yijia lifted her sweaty face. “Stomach ache. I just want to eat your noodles.”

Feeling a bit of pity, Du Wan made her a separate bowl and set it on the table. The “fish” on the sofa glanced at it, slowly propped herself up to sit, and then stared at her without moving.

Du Wan suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Boss Zuo, please enjoy your meal.”

Zuo Yijia reluctantly walked over. Her eating manners were elegant and quite scenic; she chewed every noodle slowly a set number of times before swallowing.

Du Wan rested her chin on her hand and watched for a while, feeling that something was definitely off.

“Why are you eating with such gusto?” Du Wan lowered her hand suspiciously. “Does your stomach really hurt?”

Zuo Yijia set down her chopsticks. “I even pinched my palms red. Was the acting not convincing?”

Du Wan was both angry and annoyed, glaring at her.

“Since I’m in a good mood right now,” Zuo Yijia wiped her lips with a napkin, “feel free to make a request.”

“Not enough money? Or do you need me to invest in a drama?”

Du Wan looked baffled. “Who’s thinking about your money?”

“In the past, every time you curried favor with me, you’d make a request in passing.” Zuo Yijia smiled, interlacing her fingers over her chest. “Considering your good performance lately, I’m giving you this opportunity. Aren’t you happy?”

“It’s not like I don’t know your professional level. Could you get a role without a backer?”

Du Wan stood up in anger. “If you look down on people so much, why did you have me marry into your family?”

Zuo Yijia hung her head, chuckling low, her shoulders shaking. “You forgot? I signed a contract with you. You were the one who breached it first.”

Du Wan: “…”

I didn’t read the novel closely enough. She really had forgotten. The “Scummy A” and Zuo Yijia were in a contract partnership; they had agreed to cultivate feelings slowly during the marriage, but the Scummy A’s wild ambition had ruined everything.

“I still don’t need your help.” Du Wan’s momentum weakened slightly. “I’m playing the second lead in my next drama.”

Zuo Yijia kept laughing, arms crossed. “Second lead? I hope you aren’t being sold while helping them count the money.”

“You’re so narrow-minded,” Du Wan said, truly frustrated. She slammed a hand on the table with a thud. “I simply wanted to share food with you. Why do you have to bring up all this nonsense?”

“I tasted it,” Zuo Yijia looked at the innocent bowl of instant noodles, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It tastes like death.”

“If you won’t eat it, I will!” Du Wan grabbed the bowl and scraped the remaining noodles into her own.

“Wait—” Zuo Yijia couldn’t stop her. Her movement to stand up froze. She looked at Du Wan like she was a monster.

Her face flushed, and she stomped off in her high heels.

That night, Zuo Yijia drifted into a dream. The person in the dream kept repeating the same sentence: “I am not her.”

Who are you not? Zuo Yijia asked.

The person didn’t answer.

The dream shifted. She became Sisyphus, pointlessly repeating the motion of pushing a boulder. Even with a body stronger than a human’s, she was panting with exhaustion.

The boulder reached the peak and rolled back down again. As she wiped her sweat and prepared to push again, the giant stone in her hands suddenly changed shape.

“Hi, Mermaid!”

Du Wan was pouting, her mischievous face getting closer and closer until it collided with hers, letting out a loud “MWAH.”

Zuo Yijia: “…”

Zuo Yijia was startled awake by the nightmare.

Early the next morning, when they met in the dining room, Du Wan seemed to have entirely forgotten last night’s friction, greeting her as usual.

“I’m finished.”

Zuo Yijia had barely touched the food on her plate—just a tiny bit of surface scraping.

Du Wan whispered, “Did you eat too much last night?”

Zuo Yijia didn’t even look at her.

Du Wan froze. She forgot to chew the custard bun in her mouth, and a bite got stuck in her throat. She coughed several times, only recovering after chugging several gulps of water.

What’s the deal?

Eat and run, then turn around and act like you don’t know me?