After Faking My Death, My Iceberg Ex-Wife Went Crazy for Me - Chapter 5

Unable to resist Chen Qiao’s relentless pestering, Geng Xiaoxiao finally agreed to accompany her.

On the way, she repeatedly opened her chat with Ye Ling, torn between whether to send a message.

If I don’t say anything, it might be like yesterday. But if I do… she still might not come home late.

As she wrestled with her thoughts, a message from Ye Ling arrived first.

Something came up. I might be home late. Don’t wait up.

Geng Xiaoxiao’s dilemma vanished. She replied with a simple “Okay.”

They had agreed to meet at the entrance of X.Lady. Strangely, Chen Qiao, the unemployed wanderer, arrived even later than Geng Xiaoxiao.

When Chen Qiao finally arrived, Geng Xiaoxiao understood why she was late.

Chen Qiao had dressed with meticulous care. Her usually bare face wore a light layer of makeup, and her outfit was meticulously coordinated—Geng Xiaoxiao had just seen the exact ensemble on a Little Green Book fashion blogger last week.

Now that Chen Qiao had arrived, Geng Xiaoxiao was eager to escape the mosquitoes. “Let’s go?” she urged.

But Chen Qiao, who frequented X.Lady daily, suddenly grew anxious. “Xiaoxiao, take another look. Are my lashes okay? Does this outfit look weird?”

Geng Xiaoxiao sighed and dutifully examined her from head to toe, then leaned in to inspect the perfectly separated lashes.

This level of skill… Chen Qiao definitely didn’t do this herself.

“Perfect, perfect,” Geng Xiaoxiao said, circling behind her to gently push her forward. “You look like an angel descended from heaven—flawless from head to toe.”

“But…”

“One more word and you’re confessing yourself.”

“…Who said anything about confessing?” Chen Qiao muttered, her face flushed, finally falling silent.

Chen Qiaozhen wasn’t here to confess her feelings. Her grand display today was a preemptive strike—to get Ab Sister’s WeChat.

Geng Xiaoxiao stared in disbelief. “You’ve been ranting about getting an ‘8’ every day, and you’re telling me you haven’t even gotten her WeChat?”

“What ‘8’? Don’t slander me!” Chen Qiaozhen clamped a hand over Xiaoxiao’s mouth. “What does Cat Cat’s slogan have to do with me?”

“Tch,” Geng Xiaoxiao brushed off her hand, glancing toward the bar. “Do you really think Ab Sister will show up? We’ve been waiting for two hours.”

“She’s coming for sure. I overheard the bartender calling her yesterday, saying she’d be stopping by to check on the place today.”

“You were eavesdropping on someone’s phone call?”

“What eavesdropping? If the sound just happened to drift into my ears, can you call that eavesdropping?”

Chen Qiaozhen was spouting nonsense, clearly teetering between liquid courage and plain drunkenness.

Geng Xiaoxiao snatched her glass away. “Alright, snap out of it. You don’t want to be too drunk to speak when she gets here.”

“Ha! I can drink a thousand cups without—without—”

Chen Qiaozhen trailed off, her eyes glazing over.

“Qiao’er? Chen Qiao?” She’s really drunk, isn’t she?

Geng Xiaoxiao called out twice, about to get up to check on her, when two hands suddenly pressed down on her shoulders.

“Aiya, we’ve caught a little bamboo shoot sneaking a drink.”

A moment later, three people settled into the small booth.

Xue Jiqing leaned back, her posture exuding a casual elegance. “Xiaoxiao, why don’t you introduce us?”

Great, Geng Xiaoxiao thought. After all this time, Chen Qiao hasn’t even added her on WeChat, let alone seen her face?

Geng Xiaoxiao closed her eyes, desperately wanting to escape reality. But since she had chosen her friends, she had no choice but to introduce them. “This is Chen Qiao, my college classmate and good friend.”

Chen Qiao gave a shy smile. “My mother and grandmother both practice Ouxiu embroidery. They hoped I would inherit their skillful hands and pass down this craft, so they named me ‘Qiao,’ meaning ‘skillful.’ Hello, Sister Jiqing.”

Amused by her earnestness, Xue Jiqing extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Xue Jiqing—’Ji’ from ‘season’ and ‘Qing’ from ‘azure.’ It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Chen Qiao gently took her hand, her face flushing as she murmured, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

Geng Xiaoxiao sighed inwardly, knowing Chen Qiao had truly fallen for her this time.

Too bad she has no idea what kind of person she’s fallen for.

Xue Jiqing was an anomaly, a rare bloom amidst the Xue Family’s nest of old-fashioned and rigid members.

As a child, she teased cats and dogs; as she grew older, she flirted with flowers and dallied with grass. The people around her changed in waves, like spring chives that could never be completely harvested.

In short, a heartbreaker.

Friday was busier than usual. After exchanging only a few words, Xue Jiqing was pulled away to work.

Chen Qiao, determined to prove herself, managed to get Xue Jiqing’s WeChat before she left. The moment her friend request was accepted, she was as thrilled as if she’d made a million yuan from a startup.

In short, she nearly fainted from excitement.

“Xiaoxiao, from today onward, you’re my godmother!”

Geng Xiaoxiao pressed her temples, her lips parting slightly.

“Get lost.”

Headache.

If she had known Chen Qiao was talking about Xue Jiqing, she would never have accompanied her today.

Geng Xiaoxiao disliked interfering in others’ lifestyles, but that didn’t mean she would stand by and watch her friend jump into a pit of fire.

Yet Chen Qiao, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, brazenly leaned in to pry.

“Xiaoxiao, do you two know each other? I got the impression you didn’t realize she was the owner of X.Lady?”

“I didn’t.”

Geng Xiaoxiao recalled, “I only knew she used to run a female butler cafe in the International Trade area.”

“So that cafe was hers too?” Chen Qiao’s eyes lit up. “I saved a check-in post for it, but when I went, it had turned into a dog cafe. The staff seemed to be the same, though.”

“Yeah, Sister Jiqing’s family is… rather old-fashioned. Someone snitched about her running the butler cafe, and she was forced to change the business direction shortly after opening.”

When Geng Xiaoxiao first heard about the shop closing, she secretly felt relieved.

For days, Xue Jiqing had been messaging her, saying the shop had prepared a cool, aloof “Ab Sister” just for her and urging her to come visit—while also telling her to keep it a secret from Ye Ling.

Xiaoxiao had no idea how to respond.

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she took a sip of wine.

Chen Qiao suddenly remembered something and lunged at her, grabbing her neck. “Confess! How did you meet Ab Sister? Do you have any ulterior motives?”

“What ulterior motives?” Xiaoxiao struggled against Chen Qiao’s grip. Chen Qiao, having drunk too much, was rough, leaving red marks on Xiaoxiao’s neck.

“She’s childhood friends with one of my friends. That’s how we met,” Xiaoxiao said dismissively.

But Chen Qiao, whose brain had been overheating all night, suddenly became sharp.

“Which friend? She looks a few years older than us, so her childhood friend must be around the same age. I don’t remember you having any close friends like that…” Chen Qiao’s lips curled downward, forcing a smile that looked almost lecherous. “Could it be your secret-marriage actress wife?”

“…I’ve told you a million times, there’s no actress wife! Stop reading Green River novels!” Xiaoxiao’s headache worsened.

She could keep her marriage a secret from most people, but she couldn’t fool Chen Qiao.

Because she couldn’t explain why Chen Qiao couldn’t come over for hotpot.

After being rejected repeatedly, Chen Qiao concluded that Geng Xiaoxiao was hiding a “wild woman” at home. Combining this with Geng Xiaoxiao’s evasive attitude, she made a brilliant deduction:

The “wild woman” was likely a divorced straight woman with a child.

To “wake up” Geng Xiaoxiao, Chen Qiao scoured the internet for cautionary tales and bombarded her with them, sending nine messages a day—morning, noon, and night.

Geng Xiaoxiao often wondered if Chen Qiao’s previous business venture had failed precisely because she was too busy with these antics.

Eventually, driven to her wit’s end, Geng Xiaoxiao fabricated a secret relationship and showed Chen Qiao a photo of Ye Ling.

A profile shot.

The woman leaned against a railing, a slender cigarette between her icy-white fingers. The night wind whipped through her hair, scattering strands like a thousand thoughts tangled and blooming under the moonlight.

The photo had been taken secretly, and Geng Xiaoxiao’s shaky hand had blurred the focus, rendering the face a blurry, indistinct mess.

That’s why she dared to show it to Chen Qiao.

The effect was remarkable.

After seeing the photo, Chen Qiao stopped harping about divorced women with children who preyed on hearts. Instead, she began badgering Geng Xiaoxiao about which A-list actress she was secretly married to, none of whom matched the description.

Tonight was Chen Qiao’s most exhilarating moment, and Geng Xiaoxiao didn’t want to spoil her mood.

She made an excuse to leave early, planning to discuss Xue Jiqing with Chen Qiao in a few days.

When she got home, Ye Ling hadn’t returned yet.

Geng Xiaoxiao walked from the entrance hall to her bedroom, turning on all the lights to brighten the space.

After collapsing into her beanbag chair and staring blankly for a while, Geng Xiaoxiao began to regret drinking the special cocktail Xue Jiqing had made for them.

It was called “Winter’s Letter,” a newly developed recipe that Xue Jiqing had asked them to try.

Geng Xiaoxiao didn’t care for alcohol, but after listening to Chen Qiao’s enthusiastic analysis of the drink, she took a sip.

The initial taste was icy and sweet, with hints of lemon and pine nuts. But after a few sips, the sugary facade shattered, revealing a sharp, unexpected bitterness that brought tears to her eyes.

Geng Xiaoxiao hadn’t drunk much, so she was able to pat Chen Qiao on the back as she coughed.

Xue Jiqing apologized, explaining that she might have added too much gin to the base. She promised to refine the recipe and invite them to try it again.

Hearing there would be another chance to see Xue Jiqing, Chen Qiao, the hopeless romantic, immediately forced herself to stop coughing and shook her head, insisting she was fine.

Amidst the dazzling lights and clinking glasses, Geng Xiaoxiao noticed the tears welling up in the corners of Chen Qiao’s eyes, yet her eyes were clearly smiling.

What is this? A willing victim and an eager tormentor?

Geng Xiaoxiao pressed her temples, feeling the alcohol, stirred by the wind, amplify from a mild buzz to a dizzying haze.

After sitting for a while, Geng Xiaoxiao went to the bathroom to wash up before moving to the living room.

Her phone vibrated several times, mostly messages from Chen Qiao, interspersed with a few texts.

Geng Xiaoxiao stared blankly at the blinking red notifications, not replying.

Fortunately, Chen Qiao didn’t need a response, enthusiastically sending messages regardless.

The night air was chilly, so she went to the bedroom to grab a blanket and wrap herself in it.

Early summer weather was unpredictable, alternating between sunshine and rain, cold and heat.

Yesterday morning had been sweltering, but a downpour transformed summer into autumn.

Ye Ling was particularly prone to illness during such drastic temperature changes.

When the rain stopped that afternoon, Aunt Zhang sent a message saying she had brewed ginger tea and asked them to drink some when they got home from work.

Geng Xiaoxiao had checked earlier. Aunt Zhang hadn’t made much, and the ginger tea had been sitting in the thermos all night. If Ye Ling didn’t return soon, there might not even be enough for a full bowl.

Xiao Ba.

I’m here.

The inorganic voice quickly echoed in her mind. She touched the bamboo pendant hanging around her neck, the blunt edge of the bamboo leaf pressing into her fingertip.

I wanted to ask when Ye Ling would be back, but it seems pointless. Just stay on standby.

Understood.

Programmed without curiosity, System 823 obediently fell silent.

For the past four years, it had remained dormant. Apart from issuing initial missions and explaining the original plot upon her arrival, it had rarely spoken to Geng Xiaoxiao unprompted.

Occasionally, Xiaoxiao would forget her identity as someone from another world, and she would forget about the system too.

By eleven o’clock, Xiaoxiao was wrapped in a blanket, yawning lazily.

A car’s headlights flashed outside the window. Could it be Ye Ling?

Chen Qiao sent another message, this time to let her know she was safe.

Checking her WeChat Moments, Xiaoxiao saw a newly posted nine-grid collage. Every photo featured the “Winter’s Letter” cocktail, with a selfie taking center stage. In the dimly lit background, someone was casually framed while mixing drinks.

This post was likely hidden from Xue Jiqing, as there was another one above it.

The accompanying image was again the “Winter’s Letter,” with a brief caption: Delicious cocktail! Everyone, come support Sister Jiqing!

No shop name, no location—where exactly was she supposed to go?

The crush was so… subtly obvious, cautiously blatant, carefully concealed yet glaringly obvious.

Xiaoxiao liked both posts. Her phone vibrated, and Chen Qiao demanded to know why she liked the Moments but hadn’t replied to her messages.

The next message changed her tune, begging Xiaoxiao to ask “that person at home” about Xue Jiqing’s preferences.

She’d asked the wrong person. Even others couldn’t remember Ye Ling’s long list of taboos—who would dare burden her with remembering their own preferences?

Xiaoxiao’s lips curled into a brief smile before quickly fading.

Ye Ling.

Ye Ling.

She couldn’t think of that name; it made her chest ache.

But some people seemed to appear the moment you thought of them.

Ye Ling was back.