After Faking My Death, My Iceberg Ex-Wife Went Crazy for Me - Chapter 31

“You saw Xiaoxiao?!” Xue Jiqing exclaimed.

Inside the car, Ye Ling raised a hand, gesturing for silence, her eyes darting around as if afraid of being overheard.

Xue Jiqing instinctively lowered her voice. “So, you ran out just now because you saw her?”

Ye Ling nodded vigorously, her eyes shining.

She was disguised, but I’m absolutely certain it was her.

“If she’s okay, why hasn’t she come to us? Teacher Jiang still doesn’t know Xiaoxiao fell overboard. What if…”

Ye Ling’s eyes dimmed. She doesn’t want to see me.

“She can’t avoid us forever…”

Xue Jiqing pursed her lips, a hint of worry darkening her brow. “Could you have mistaken someone else for her?”

I would never make such a mistake.

Lianqiu has already requested the surveillance footage. You’ll know for sure when she gets back.

“I’m not doubting you,” Xue Jiqing said carefully. “But if it really is Xiaoxiao, and she’s avoiding me, should we actively try to find her?”

Ye Ling’s dark lashes trembled, casting a deep crimson shadow at the corners of her eyes.

Her hand remained motionless on the screen for a long moment, until the screen went dark and then lit up again.

Her slender fingers, usually so nimble, fumbled over the keys, typing out a few halting lines.

You can go.

If I approach her, I’ll only scare her away.

So, knowing she’s safe is enough. There’s no need to get close.

And I can’t get close.

The surveillance video paused on a clear face.

A pale purple sun-protective jacket, a white sun hat, long, slightly brown hair, and a profile with features strikingly similar to Geng Xiaoxiao’s.

The police officer accompanying Meng Lianqiu to review the roadside store’s surveillance footage was the same officer who had stopped Ye Ling from diving into the sea to rescue someone the previous night.

She sighed helplessly. “The angle is crystal clear. I understand President Ye’s feelings, but it’s definitely not the person she’s looking for.”

“Thank you for your help,” Meng Lianqiu said, pulling out a USB drive. She asked the store owner, “May I copy this segment of the surveillance footage? Just this clip will do.”

The camera angle faced the road outside the store entrance and didn’t involve any privacy concerns, so the owner readily agreed.

After thanking him and copying the footage, Meng Lianqiu and the police officer left together.

By the time they had reviewed all the surveillance footage along the route, dusk was gradually falling.

At the intersection, the police officer bid Meng Lianqiu farewell.

“The coastal surveillance cameras are checked every two to four hours. We haven’t found any trace of the victim.”

“I understand President Ye’s feelings. It’s normal for someone under such intense mental stress to experience hallucinations. But her actions could cause panic among others.”

“If possible, please try to persuade her to calm down.”

“……”

“I understand,” Meng Lianqiu said softly. “I’ll pass on your message.”

Back at Yuexin, Meng Lianqiu stood outside the door, hesitant to enter.

Deep down, she knew Ye Ling didn’t truly believe Geng Xiaoxiao was in danger. Even she herself had clung to a sliver of hope when Ye Ling claimed to have seen Xiaoxiao.

Now, that hope had been shattered.

Meng Lianqiu couldn’t bring herself to knock.

She retreated to the side and sent a message to Xue Jiqing.

Inside the room, Xue Jiqing glanced at her phone, her expression shifting slightly.

Casually rising, she said to Ye Ling, “Lianqiu still isn’t back. I’ll go check on her.”

Ye Ling nodded, her eyes fixed on the computer screen.

That afternoon, while reviewing the previous night’s surveillance footage from the terrace restaurant, she had noticed a peculiar moment.

Just before the robbers arrived, Geng Xiaoxiao leaned against the edge of a flowerbed. As a gust of wind lifted her side-swept hair, her lips curved slightly, as if she were saying something.

The surveillance camera was too far away; even with the volume maxed out, only static and wind noise could be heard.

Ye Ling had attempted to isolate the audio and extract the human voice, but a call from the police interrupted her, allowing her to complete only the first step.

Since returning from the seaside, she had been working tirelessly on this.

It wasn’t until nightfall, when Xue Jiqing forced her to eat dinner, that she finally managed to extract a short, relatively clear fragment of human speech.

Ye Ling clicked the mouse to play it.

A fragmented voice crackled from the computer speakers, barely piecing together into words.

“I… asked… a philosophical question…”

Who was she talking to?

Ye Ling paused the recording, her expression momentarily blank.

The sound of the door opening and closing behind her made Ye Ling quickly grab her tablet.

Ji Qing, come take a look…

“Ye Ling, I need to tell you something. You need to prepare yourself.”

Ye Ling stopped typing, tilting her head up in confusion to meet Xue Jiqing’s worried gaze.

The depth and weight of that gaze instinctively made her want to interrupt, to show them her new discovery.

But her lips moved uselessly, unable to utter a single sound.

“Lianqiu and the police reviewed the surveillance footage from that route. There was someone wearing a hat and a purple sun-protective jacket, just like you described.”

Xue Jiqing spoke slowly, as if giving her time to process each word.

Ye Ling wished she would just get it over with quickly, rather than dragging out the truth like this, each word a blade in a slow, torturous execution.

“She was wearing a mask, so you might not have gotten a clear look, but it definitely wasn’t Xiaoxiao.”

“Impossible,” Ye Ling forced out, her fingers clenching tightly around the tablet.

The wound on her middle finger reopened, bl00d dripping onto the floor in a teardrop shape.

“I absolutely, absolutely wouldn’t mistake her.”

Xue Jiqing exchanged a look with Meng Lianqiu before lunging forward to pry the tablet from Ye Ling’s hands, preventing her from further injuring herself.

“I know, I know you just miss Xiaoxiao so much. That girl’s features really do resemble hers a bit. If it were me, I might have made the same mistake.”

Meng Lianqiu pulled Ye Ling’s chair around to face her directly. At the water dispenser, she filled a cup with warm water and stirred in a white powder.

Xue Jiqing continued to reassure her, “You were so far away at the time, and you’re a bit nearsighted. It’s perfectly normal you couldn’t see clearly. It’s not your fault.”

“Look on the bright side. Even if it wasn’t Xiaoxiao, isn’t that a good thing? In times like these, no news is the best news, right?”

“Really? It wasn’t Xiaoxiao?” Ye Ling’s voice was barely a whisper. Xue Jiqing read her lips and shook his head.

“Lianqiu has a video on her laptop. I’ll show you.”

She placed the laptop on the desk and played the eight-second surveillance clip.

A girl strode past, glancing at the camera as if she’d noticed something. The half-mask hanging from her ear was blown aside, revealing a face unmistakably different from Geng Xiaoxiao’s.

Ye Ling stared intently at the girl’s features. The resemblance was there, but it wasn’t her.

On closer inspection, even her build was different.

No, this wasn’t how she remembered it.

It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be like this. She had clearly seen her.

Those eyes—she had seen them so clearly. There was no mistake.

How could it not be her?

She had even prepared herself to watch from afar, never disturbing her again.

Why? Why…

Where did she go?

Scalding tears splashed down. Xue Jiqing’s hand, pressed against the edge of the table, trembled as she frantically looked up.

Ye Ling’s head hung low, tears streaming down her face in an unbroken torrent, like a summer downpour.

A distant flash of lightning lit the sky, as if in response.

Amidst the rumbling thunder, Xue Jiqing asked hesitantly, “You… you’re crying?”

She didn’t mean to ask such a foolish question. Her mind was blank, and the only image that flashed before her eyes was a scene from twenty years ago—a memory so distant she’d almost forgotten it.

It must have been a gathering. The adults were discussing business while the children played with their aunties.

Xiao Xuejiqing had tripped in the backyard, scraping her knees and palms. As she sobbed in her auntie’s arms, a crisp, cold voice cut through the air.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because it hurts!” she replied instinctively.

“But crying won’t make the pain go away. So why are you still crying?”

The girl, about her age, asked earnestly, her jade-like face stern, as if she were born without a sense of empathy.

Xiao Xuejiqing stared blankly, wanting to say that crying was what you did when it hurt. But she knew that wasn’t a real answer. Her mouth and brain battled, leaving her speechless.

Seeing her silence, the girl made her own judgment. “My mother says only the weak cry. So you’re weak, and I won’t be your friend.”

“Hey! Who said I wanted to be your friend anyway?!”

Xiao Xuejiqing’s face flushed with anger, but the girl ignored her and turned away abruptly.

Xiao Xuejiqing watched maliciously as the girl approached a protruding cobblestone, deliberately refraining from warning her.

True to form, the girl tripped and fell hard, just like she had.

Xiao Xuejiqing smirked triumphantly, anticipating tears. But the girl simply got up, brushed off the dust, and didn’t even utter a complaint.

What was she thinking back then…?

Probably something like, “Just you wait. I’ll catch you crying one day, and then I’ll mock you mercilessly.”

Driven by this goal, Xiao Xuejiqing had endured Madam Ye Yunzhen’s intimidating presence and tolerated young Ye Ling’s unintentionally cutting remarks, becoming her only friend.

Now, after years of longing, Xue Jiqing’s wish had finally come true, yet he felt no joy whatsoever.

He silently handed over a box of tissues and placed Meng Lianqiu’s honey-sweetened water on the table.

“Call me if you need anything. Remember to drink the honey water—Xiaoxiao taught me the perfect ratio.”

With that, he pulled Meng Lianqiu out of the room, leaving Ye Ling alone.

As the door closed, Meng Lianqiu whispered, “I just added the honey randomly to mask the medicine’s taste.”

“It’s fine. I made up the ‘optimal ratio’ anyway. With her throat like this, she won’t be able to taste the difference.”

Xue Jiqing wiped her face and walked to the window.

The rain, which had been threatening all day, finally began to fall. The muffled, fragmented sounds at her ear were indistinguishable—were they rain or sobs?

“Lianqiu,” Xue Jiqing asked softly after a moment of silence, “there’s something I’ve never understood. Why did Ye Ling agree to a fake engagement with Shang Mi’er? Even if it was just to stall for a month or two and keep Xiaoxiao in the dark, the risk was enormous, wasn’t it?”

She knew all too well that this was the sharpest thorn lodged between Geng Xiaoxiao and Ye Ling. Unless it was removed, the wound would never heal.

Though she doubted there was any chance of healing left.

“Miss Shang and President Ye discussed this privately; I wasn’t present,” Meng Lianqiu recalled. “At the time, our work in New York was nearly finished. Miss Shang somehow tracked us down, crying that Mr. Shang Yangheng had sent her to her arranged marriage partner. She’d escaped while the bodyguards were distracted.”

“Initially, Miss Shang’s proposed solution was even more… extreme. President Ye grew angry and ordered her to be taken away, saying he would speak with Mr. Shang and at least secure Miss Shang’s right to finish her graduate studies.”

“Then Miss Shang produced a document. President Ye’s expression darkened, and they went to the office to talk privately. You probably know what happened after that.”

Xue Jiqing frowned. “What kind of document? Did you see it?”

“I saw the logo—it was from a well-known foreign IVF clinic. At first, I thought President Ye and Miss Geng were having marital problems, and Miss Shang wanted to…” Meng Lianqiu stammered, her face flushing crimson before she finally blurted out, “…have a child for President Ye.”

“Stop!” The shocking revelation shattered the somber mood, leaving Xue Jiqing’s face contorted in discomfort.

“I think I understand now. I can’t tell you too much about Ye Ling’s family matters, but just know that your assumptions are completely wrong. Don’t let your imagination run wild!”

“Okay,” Meng Lianqiu said, lowering her head.

About an hour later, Xue Jiqing stretched her numb legs and quietly opened the door.

Ye Ling lay face down on the desk, her back to them. A glass had fallen to the floor, pooling honey-scented liquid around her feet.

Xue Jiqing approached and checked Ye Ling’s condition, muttering, “These people… they have mouths, but they don’t know how to use them.”

She turned to Meng Lianqiu. “How long will the sleeping pills keep her out?”

“I gave her two tablets. President Ye didn’t finish her drink, but she should sleep for five or six hours.”

“That’s enough for her to rest,” Xue Jiqing said, carefully avoiding Ye Ling’s injured arm as she helped her sit up. “Come give me a hand and support her.”

“Okay.”

The corridor camera faithfully recorded the three women leaving. After they were gone, in the empty room, the computer screen silently lit up.

The cursor moved, deleting several key points in the audio recording.

In the penthouse star-gazing suite, all the scattered roses had been cleared away, leaving only a few stray petals and a lingering, faint fragrance.

After helping Ye Ling lie down on the bed, Xue Jiqing and Meng Lianqiu discussed who would keep watch through the night.

“In her condition, she shouldn’t be left alone tonight. We need to take her to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll do it, Miss Xue. You’ve been busy all day, you should get some rest.”

“I haven’t been busy at all,” Xue Jiqing said, patting Meng Lianqiu’s shoulder. “Ye Ling might not recover her spirits for a while. You’re the one who’s been working the hardest. Go get some rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“But…”

“No buts. Just go. Don’t worry, I won’t dock your pay.”

Meng Lianqiu chuckled, giving up on her polite refusal. “Then I’ll head out. Goodbye, Miss Xue.”

“See you tomorrow,” Xue Jiqing yawned.

At three in the morning, amidst the faint sound of rain, Ye Ling lay in bed, her eyes wide and vacant.

She saw the sea and sky inverted. The pitch-black ocean churned into a whirlpool, its corrosive depths tearing at the hem of the white-robed girl’s dress.

Ye Ling reached out, desperate to grasp her.

She succeeded.

But before she could feel relief, the girl cast her a cold, indifferent glance, ruthlessly brushed aside Ye Ling’s hand, and soared toward the sea.

Her dress shredded into fragments within the vortex, and she vanished completely into the ocean’s depths.

Ye Ling stared blankly at her empty hand. The next moment, the girl’s anguished cries erupted.

She demanded answers, her voice filled with fury.

Why didn’t you hold on? Why did you let go?

Ye Ling wanted to protest that she hadn’t released her, but her mouth felt glued shut, refusing to open.

The accusations rained down relentlessly, pressing in on her like a tangible force, driving her into a corner.

Ye Ling curled up, trembling under the onslaught of accusations.

Did the girl truly let go?

If not, then it must have been Ye Ling’s fault for failing to hold on.

It was her fault.

The moon appeared on the horizon, perhaps over the sea, and Ye Ling prayed to it.

Please, just one more chance. Give me another chance, and I’ll hold on tight. I promise, I will.

Then, the vortex reappeared above her.

Ye Ling stood up and tentatively reached out her hand.

The white-robed girl’s face emerged again. This time, she grasped Ye Ling’s hand with all her might.

Ye Ling gripped back just as firmly, pulling the girl toward the land—or perhaps the sky—toward herself.

Inch by inch, over what felt like an eternity, the girl finally emerged, her body mostly free, only her thighs and legs still trapped in the vortex.

Ye Ling wanted to urge her to hold on, but no words came.

A searing pain shot through her arm, but she gritted her teeth and endured.

The girl’s knees emerged, followed by her calves, ankles…

Just a little further, Ye Ling thought, her eyes gleaming with hope.

But in that final moment, her arm went limp.

The vortex surged upward, tearing the snow-white dress apart before her eyes once more.

Ye Ling stared blankly, touching her right arm.

It was this.

Having spent years frequenting bars, Xue Jiqing was long accustomed to an inverted sleep schedule.

Already a light sleeper, she quickly opened her eyes when she sensed movement.

In the darkness, Ye Ling rose from bed, went to the bathroom to wash her hands without turning on the light, and then stood in the doorway, scanning the room from left to right.

The scene was eerie, and Xue Jiqing hesitated to speak.

Ye Ling seemed completely unaware of her presence. After looking around a few times, she walked straight toward the dining table.

Xue Jiqing followed, whispering, “Are you sleepwalking?”

There was no response.

Remembering that you shouldn’t forcibly wake someone who’s sleepwalking, Xue Jiqing considered her options. She returned to the sofa to grab her phone, intending to use its flashlight for illumination.

In the dim, hazy light, Ye Ling stood at the dining table, her left side facing Xue Jiqing, as she plucked a rose from the vase.

She ran her thumb over the stem, then tossed the flower onto the table as if dissatisfied, and selected another.

It looked like she was choosing carefully, leaving Xue Jiqing puzzled.

If time could rewind, the Xue Jiqing of one minute later would have rushed in and thrown away all the roses.

But there’s no such thing as a regret pill. Xue Jiqing could only watch, making no move to intervene.

After three attempts, Ye Ling seemed to find the one she wanted.

She ran her thumb over the stem again, then raised her right arm.

The gauze that had been wrapped around it had vanished, and even the neat stitches had become frayed and torn.

Xue Jiqing’s heart clenched painfully, her scalp prickling with a sudden, ominous premonition.

But it was too late.

In the blurred shadow reflected on the wall, the trimmed tip of the rose stem resembled a sharpened spear.

Thwack

It pierced flesh.