The So-Called Scumbag Top
Zhuo Fan had just emerged from the supermarket, laden with bags of fresh produce, when he spotted a familiar black car parked at the entrance. The man inside rolled down the window, glanced at him indifferently, and uttered two words: “Get in.”
Once settled in the car, Zhuo Fan clutched the two large bags and looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes showing a hint of surprise. “Why did you come to pick me up?”
The car sped along, Xiao Han’s gaze fixed on the road ahead as he casually replied, “Chenli is returning from abroad today. His flight arrives at five. I’m picking him up so we can have dinner and welcome him back.”
Hearing the name Chenli, Zhuo Fan felt a pang in his heart. His fingers tightened around the plastic bags as he turned to gaze at Xiao Han’s stern profile, tentatively suggesting, “How about I cook for you both at home? I bought fresh ribs and…”
“No need,” Xiao Han interrupted, tugging at his overly tight tie with a rare, slightly exasperated smile. “Chenli’s been in France so long, he might not be used to Chinese food anymore.”
Zhuo Fan stiffened at that smile. Xiao Han had never smiled at him like that, so indulgently, so piercingly.
“You once mentioned… he looks a bit like me?” Zhuo Fan ventured.
“No,” Xiao Han corrected him seriously. “You look a bit like him, but only a bit.”
“…”
The fresh groceries in his arms seemed pointless now, the coldness spreading from his hands. Xiao Han, of course, wouldn’t care about such trivial matters. In fact, since telling Zhuo Fan to get in the car, he hadn’t spared him another glance.
Zhuo Fan’s eyes reddened slightly. I’ve been so good to you, why is it that your heart is always with Liang Chenli?
He glanced at his watch. It was only three o’clock. The drive to the airport was just over an hour, so why was he in such a hurry?
Xiao Han couldn’t be bothered with the delicate thoughts of the man beside him. Speeding on the highway was merely an attempt to vent his own frustration. Eager to see Liang Chenli? Please, who even is that?!
Today, he had woken up to find himself transmigrated into a modern scumbag novel as the scumbag protagonist!
How did Xiao Han transmigrate? He had no idea. It just happened.
Not only that, he knew this was a clichéd story of a scumbag hopelessly in love with a friend, resorting to finding a lookalike as a substitute.
Don’t ask why, he just knew.
The script had him drive to this supermarket at three in the afternoon to pick up Zhuo Fan, then rush to the airport with his little lover to greet his crush. The script was a masterpiece of self-sabotage!
Ah, you’re asking what the script is? So many questions, are you the Encyclopedia of Why?
Xiao Han caught a glimpse of his “little lover” looking at him with a hurt and sorrowful expression in the rearview mirror, and he felt a faint ache in his gut.
Hey, buddy, this is the first time I’ve met you today. Don’t look so heartbroken, okay? We’re not that close!
Even though he was internally ranting, Xiao Han maintained a cold and deep demeanor, responding to Zhuo Fan’s attempts at conversation with the script’s required indifference.
Who would have thought they’d hit a traffic jam halfway there? Now he couldn’t even speed.
“Damn!” Xiao Han cursed inwardly, slapping the steering wheel. To Zhuo Fan, this action naturally seemed like frustration over a potential delay in seeing Liang Chenli, making him even more upset.
The traffic jam lasted nearly an hour before they reached the airport. After parking the car, Xiao Han finally looked at Zhuo Fan again: “Get out.”
Zhuo Fan set down his things, closed the car door, and walked alongside Xiao Han, reaching out to hold his arm.
Xiao Han stiffened, goosebumps spreading across his left arm, though thankfully hidden by his suit. But the script dictated he couldn’t shake him off until they saw Liang Chenli, so Xiao Han kept a cold face and walked briskly toward the arrivals gate.
“Hey, Chenli, have you arrived?” Xiao Han asked on the phone, his eyes scanning the crowd. He had no idea what the guy looked like.
“Xiao Han, I see you! My wife and I are right behind you.” Liang Chenli’s excited voice came through the phone. Xiao Han turned to see a tall man in a trench coat waving at him, with a curvaceous blonde on his arm. Ah, that must be him.
Xiao Han decisively shook off Zhuo Fan’s hand. As they approached, he scrutinized the pair, deciding against any detailed description—just another face in the crowd.
“Xiao Han, it’s been years, and you’re still as handsome as ever. My wife’s eyes are glued to you. I might get jealous!” Liang Chenli joked, patting Xiao Han and feigning anger while holding his wife.
The compliment was pleasant enough. Xiao Han smiled and nodded at the blonde. “Marrying such a beautiful wife, I’m the one who’s jealous.”
He swore he meant it sincerely, but to Zhuo Fan, it was like a dagger to the heart.
“And who is this? He looks somewhat familiar,” Liang Chenli finally acknowledged the breathing person beside them, glancing at Xiao Han with a teasing smile.
Xiao Han replied unhurriedly, “This is Zhuo Fan, a friend of mine.”
He didn’t need to look to know Zhuo Fan must have had a devastated expression. Xiao Han silently cursed the script a thousand times but outwardly remained polite, inviting Liang Chenli and his wife to dinner.
Xiao Han had booked the best French restaurant in the city, even hiring a violinist to play outside their private room.
The private room was serene, and every dish on the table was exquisitely delicious. Xiao Han cut a small piece of steak and put it in his mouth.
Liang Chenli turned out to be a chatterbox, exchanging stories with his wife about all the bizarre experiences abroad. Xiao Han, with a calm expression, elegantly cut his steak, subtly transferring the pieces his friend liked to his plate, appearing to listen intently.
Zhuo Fan sat quietly, watching it all unfold. The feast before him seemed to lose its flavor. He ate some ice cream, feeling a chill that seemed to freeze his stomach, soon causing it to cramp.
Sweat appeared on his forehead. He gently tugged on Xiao Han’s sleeve, whispering, “Xiao Han, I don’t feel well. I’m going to the restroom.”
“Mm.” Xiao Han merely nodded, his dismissive attitude making one doubt if he had even heard him.
Zhuo Fan remained silent, clutching his stomach as he headed to the restroom. Liang Chenli noticed and stood up to call him over, but Zhuo Fan, even more dejected, pretended not to hear and hurried away.
Left at the table with the blonde, Xiao Han didn’t bother with pleasantries, focusing on his meal, barely responding to her attempts at conversation in broken Chinese.
“Chenli said you’ve known each other for ten years?”
Xiao Han wiped his mouth with a napkin and corrected, “Ten years and three months.”
“Wow, you remember so clearly!”
Xiao Han replied with a cryptic, “It’s ‘what is known.'”
“Huh? What isn’t known?” The blonde looked at him, puzzled, her limited Chinese unable to grasp the nuance.
He had no interest in explaining. The plot was nearing its climax. Xiao Han glanced toward the restroom, set down his utensils, wiped his hands, and casually poured some ice water onto a clean napkin.
He checked his watch. It was exactly seven o’clock.
“Fire! The restaurant’s on fire!” Shouts and sudden flames shattered the tranquility, the fire spreading rapidly and unexpectedly. As panic ensued, it quickly reached their private room.
Don’t ask why such a high-end restaurant caught fire so easily. The script said fire, so don’t expect rain.
Thick smoke filled the air, and everyone rushed to the exits in a frenzy, except for Xiao Han, who crouched and headed toward the restroom, standing out starkly.
He covered his mouth and nose with the damp napkin, squinting as he kicked open the restroom door. The enclosed space immediately filled with smoke, stinging his eyes. Xiao Han suppressed the urge to cough, kicking open each stall door, naturally shouting Liang Chenli’s name.
On the third try, he found the man slumped over a toilet lid. Without hesitation, Xiao Han grabbed him and headed out. Pausing at the door, he glanced at the adjacent stall—he knew Zhuo Fan was inside.
In that brief moment, the fire exploded with ferocity, the temperature soaring. Xiao Han’s expression was chillingly calm. The sprinkler system finally activated, and Xiao Han used it to soak their clothes, the fire raging before him.
He dragged Liang Chenli out, turning right to a floor-to-ceiling window. Grabbing whatever he could, he smashed through it, both of them tumbling onto the glass-strewn ground. Fortunately, the restaurant was on the ground floor, and aside from being scorched, shattered, and soaked, they weren’t seriously burned.
As soon as they emerged, the firefighters belatedly arrived, quickly setting up a perimeter to prevent anyone from rushing back in.
Liang Chenli, still unconscious from lack of oxygen, was loaded onto an ambulance. Xiao Han declined the nurse’s offer to accompany him to the hospital.
The fire continued to spread to the upper floors and surrounding areas.
Xiao Han, his face blackened by smoke, stood safely outside the perimeter, watching coldly.
He knew Zhuo Fan was in the stall next to Liang Chenli’s. He even knew Zhuo Fan was conscious, able to hear him calling Liang Chenli’s name, and that he would eventually be rescued safely.
He also knew that after this incident, the plot would lead to the classic scenario of the scorned lover’s heart turning to ashes, the scumbag’s regret, and the transformation into a loyal dog.
Xiao Han’s eyes reflected the flames as his brow furrowed.
He replayed the scene in his mind. He had remained calm and composed because he knew the plot in advance, but in reality, under sudden circumstances, the protagonist might not have had time to think. Calling out the name of a friend he had loved for ten years was reasonable. As for saving the friend instead of Zhuo Fan, he had seen Liang Chenli first. Besides, given the situation, it wasn’t a matter of not wanting to save, but being unable to.
The age-old question: if your mother and your wife fell into a river, who would you save first?
If the script had arranged for him to see the unconscious Zhuo Fan first, what then? But given the script’s nature, unless the sun rose in the west…
As he pondered, his gaze continued to scan the entrance.
You’re asking why Liang Chenli fainted while Zhuo Fan heard Xiao Han’s call? The script’s explanation was that Liang Chenli’s stall door was broken, while Zhuo Fan had been testing Xiao Han’s feelings.
This test indeed revealed the so-called “closeness” and “true feelings.”
As for logic, what is that? Can you eat it?
If Zhuo Fan were the protagonist, there would be a lengthy description of how he felt his heart being torn apart in the fire, his disappointment and despair, his agony, with a thousand words omitted, laying the groundwork for a thorough scumbag redemption later.
But at this moment, Xiao Han just wanted to say, “I bought a watch last year.”
As a grown man, not thinking to save himself, relying on others, and constantly whining and wallowing in self-pity.
Saving you is a favor, not saving you is a duty.
Of course, if Zhuo Fan were a delicate young woman, Xiao Han might understand a bit more.
Even in a romantic relationship, feeling hurt and disappointed is natural, and breaking up is an option. But looking at the script’s later scenes, where he supposedly grovels before Zhuo Fan, admitting his mistakes, while Zhuo Fan’s friends and family hurl insults and punches, blaming him for everything, and he has to endure their cold shoulders, Xiao Han thought it might be better to let him die in the fire and be done with it.
In no time, firefighters began carrying people out one by one. Xiao Han immediately spotted Zhuo Fan. Only after his ambulance disappeared from view did Xiao Han breathe a slight sigh of relief, flagging down a cab to take himself to the hospital for a cleanup.
What, you’re asking where the blonde went? Who cares, that’s not the point.
The peculiar script had Zhuo Fan and Liang Chenli admitted to the same hospital.
Xiao Han had visited Liang Chenli, who wasn’t seriously injured and was up and about in a couple of days. Then, of course, came the main event—a face-to-face with Zhuo Fan.
From Xiao Han’s perspective, he was utterly unwilling to follow the script’s humiliating path. No matter how much the original scumbag cared for Zhuo Fan, it was none of his business.
As for the script’s description of his inner monologue, like “constantly thinking of Zhuo Fan,” “not used to the empty room without Zhuo Fan,” “guilt-ridden and anxious,” he felt none of it. He ate well, even gained a little weight.
Isn’t that even more scummy? What should he do?
When he finally dragged himself to the hospital room door, he saw another unfamiliar man. A white shirt, suit jacket draped over his arm, tie impeccably knotted, and behind the glasses, a pair of narrow eyes, speaking gently with a nurse.
Seeing Xiao Han approach, the man slowly stood up, and as he removed his glasses, his gentle demeanor was immediately replaced by a sharp intensity.
“Are you Xiao Han?”
If it weren’t for the underlying hostility in his words, Xiao Han might have found the man’s voice quite pleasant.
He almost instantly knew who this man was—the quintessentially perfect and devoted second male lead in every scumbag story, Wen Muyan.
In literary terms, he’s the tragic supporting character. In plain terms, he’s the backup.
And an eternal backup, always just a tool to provoke the scumbag, despite his wholehearted love for the scorned lover, ultimately only able to watch with a bitter smile as his beloved falls into the arms of the reformed scumbag.
Thinking of this, Xiao Han couldn’t help but look at him with a sympathetic gaze.
Wen Muyan, caught off guard by such a look, found his initial righteous indignation turning into confusion.
He couldn’t help but touch his face. Did he have sesame paste from his hot dry noodles smeared on it?