After Faking My Death, My Iceberg Ex-Wife Went Crazy for Me - Chapter 50

X.lady.

Bars, by their very nature, defy the normal circadian rhythm, quiet when they should be bustling, and bustling when they should be quiet.

As night fell, the bar, silent all day, came alive in the hazy darkness, welcoming its busiest hours.

Ye Ling stopped at the entrance.

Three years had passed, and X.lady’s decor had been updated several times. The only constant was the wind chime that still hung outside the door.

Tonight, there was no wind. A drunken patron stumbled out, swaying slightly as they brushed against the chime. The crisp, clear notes rang out, and the blue whale pendant swayed gently, as if floating in mid-air.

Ye Ling watched the silver threads occasionally glint in the light until the chime stilled.

Through the glass, she cast one last glance inside.

The gleaming golden liquor cabinet was the only bright spot in her view. Two bartenders were busy mixing drinks or chatting with familiar customers behind the counter.

It was clear: the person she was looking for wasn’t there.

Xue Jiqing had been forcibly transferred to a branch office in another city and hadn’t returned yet.

I’m not here to drink, Ye Ling thought, but her feet remained rooted to the spot.

The bar’s location was sensitive, and Ye Ling had been standing at the entrance for too long. The staff and bartender exchanged hushed words, and one of them hurried out to politely ask, “Hello, is there anything I can assist you with?”

Ye Ling half-closed her eyes and shook her head slightly.

As she turned to leave, a car sped past, its headlights illuminating her profile. Her half-lowered lashes cast delicate shadows, obscuring her pupils in grayness.

The bartender froze, a distant memory surfacing and momentarily clouding her mind.

Seeing Ye Ling take a step away, she inexplicably called out, “Miss Ye!”

Hearing her surname, Ye Ling turned back. “Do you know me?”

“Two years… no, wait, three years ago, when you came here, it was raining. I gave you an umbrella. Remember?” The bartender raised her hand and mimed holding an umbrella.

Ye Ling recalled the incident. “I remember now. Thank you for the umbrella.”

“You’re welcome,” the bartender replied with a smile, revealing a dimple. “Are you here to see our boss? She’s been away recently. If you’d like a drink, there’s a quieter spot upstairs. I can show you the way?”

Not wanting to reject the bartender’s kindness, Ye Ling nodded.

The two entered the bar one after the other, Ye Ling following behind. Each time her injured foot touched the ground, a faint ache radiated through her ankle.

Occasionally, Ye Ling would forget to adjust her posture, her ankle landing heavily on the floor, leaving her with a hollow, empty sensation.

In those moments, her mind would go completely blank.

This feeling was addictive.

Throughout her life, she had rarely been captivated by anything.

Lollipops, new toys, amusement parks—the things children genuinely loved—were forbidden to her, untouchable relics.

Before she turned fifteen, Ye Ling’s world consisted solely of learning. Whether in class or studying independently, there was always new knowledge waiting to be mastered.

After fifteen, two more elements entered her life: investments and work.

Burning the midnight oil and pushing herself relentlessly, Ye Ling never understood what truly motivated her, nor did she know what the future held.

Now, she had found the answer to the former, but the latter remained a vast, unknowable void.

Having abandoned her mother Ye Yunzhen’s expectations, she still hadn’t become “Ye Ling.”

Could someone who didn’t even know who they were truly have a future?

“Book of Answers, tell me if I’ll find a job soon! Please, please!”

At the bar, a young woman who looked like she had just graduated took a deep breath and reverently opened the thick book.

Ye Ling paused, her gaze drawn to the exquisitely bound volume with its worn edges, clearly well-worn from countless readings.

“Be patient?” The woman flipped to her answer and immediately shrieked, “Aaaah! Does this mean finding a job will be a long, drawn-out battle?!”

The person next to her hugged her, offering clumsy comfort. “Maybe it just means you should add ‘patient’ to your resume?”

“Really?”

“Really, really…”

“Miss Ye.”

Having unconsciously fallen behind, Ye Ling turned at the sound of her name. The bartender had returned. “The second floor is up these stairs.”

“No need,” Ye Ling replied, glancing around before settling into an empty seat at the edge of the bar. “I’ll stay here.”

“Very well. What would you like to drink?”

After a moment’s pause, Ye Ling recalled a drink Xue Jiqing had once mentioned. “Winter’s Letter, please. Thank you.”

“One moment.”

The bartender moved behind the bar, opened the small gate, and stepped inside.

A colleague leaned in and whispered, “Who did you bring here?”

The bartender glanced in that direction. Other customers obscured her view, allowing her to see only half of the woman’s dark hair, her slender neck slightly bent, unsure whether she was looking at her phone or lost in thought.

“The boss’s friend,” the bartender replied, her voice uncertain. “Probably came to drink with him, but he’s not here.”

Including their brief encounter three years ago, this was only the second time she had seen Ye Ling.

From any angle, Ye Ling seemed utterly incompatible with the alluring, intoxicating world of alcohol.

In fact, she didn’t even seem like someone who could be friends with Xue Jiqing.

The two were polar opposites: one aloof and reserved, the other flamboyant and unrestrained, like ice and fire. From a distance, both were striking, but bringing them close together without disaster seemed to defy the laws of physics.

After mentally grumbling, the bartender finished the remaining orders, picked up her tray, and approached Ye Ling.

“Your drink.”

As she set down the glass, her gaze paused on the book lying open before Ye Ling.

The Book of Answers, the shop’s most popular item, was flipped through by seven or eight out of every ten customers.

Could Ye Ling possibly need to consult the Book of Answers for guidance?

The bartender unconsciously lowered her eyes, scanning the open page.

Reading upside down was a bit awkward, but fortunately, the answer consisted of only five words:

Do what you want.

In Lan Xiao’s eyes, most Western cuisine was beautiful but ultimately useless—all show and no substance.

The degree of uselessness seemed directly proportional to the restaurant’s Michelin stars.

If you added the label “internet celebrity”, the uselessness factor might as well be doubled.

Take the restaurant Qin Shaowan had chosen, for example.

Of course, a restaurant located in the city center with a decent reputation and repeat customers couldn’t be truly terrible. But for Lan Xiao, who had grown up in the countryside, familiar Chinese home-style dishes would have been far more satisfying.

Understanding that this difference in taste stemmed from their different upbringing, Lan Xiao didn’t insist Qin Shaowan accommodate her preferences. After saying goodbye, she headed alone to the University Food Court, ordered a takeout of Grilled Cold Noodles, and planned to save it for a late-night snack.

By the time she returned to the hotel around eleven, the afternoon’s drowsiness had completely dissipated. Lan Xiao set aside the Grilled Cold Noodles, opened her laptop, and resumed reading the research papers she hadn’t finished earlier.

During dinner, she and Qin Shaowan had discussed work. Once Lan Xiao confirmed that Qin Shaowan genuinely wanted her to join the team and wasn’t just making a casual offer, she didn’t refuse outright, but said she needed time to consider.

The bonus from completing the plot mission remained untouched in her bank account, but Lan Xiao had no intention of living off it indefinitely.

At the moment, her desire to pursue a Ph.D. wasn’t particularly strong. Working for Qin Shaowan for a year or two seemed like a viable alternative.

After all, Lan Xiao still had great faith in Qin Shaowan’s abilities. Moreover, at a startup, it would be much easier to become a founding member than to be exploited and marginalized in an established corporation.

Once Ye Ling’s situation was resolved, Lan Xiao decided to visit Shencheng, Qin Shaowan’s home base, to get a firsthand look.

With a rough plan in mind, Lan Xiao didn’t rush to inform Qin Shaowan. Instead, she continued reviewing research papers.

Half an hour later, Lan Xiao closed her eyes and massaged her Qingming Acupoints.

Whether it was from wearing colored contact lenses for four years or not, her eyes had become prone to dryness, requiring extra care.

Lan Xiao left her computer and walked to the window.

Compared to the panoramic views from the restaurant, the hotel’s night view was far less impressive. Cars occasionally passed along the street below.

Lan Xiao followed their movements with her gaze, feeling sufficiently rested. As she turned back to the desk, her peripheral vision caught sight of the Grilled Cold Noodles. She picked up the box to check if it was microwave-safe.

Before she could find the label, the room’s electronic lock began emitting a series of error beeps.

The sound was similar to what would occur when an incorrect keycard was inserted.

Lan Xiao set down the noodles and peered through the peephole.

The distorted view showed a small, hunched figure. The person’s face was obscured by long, loose hair as they repeatedly swiped a keycard.

The insistent beeping of her phone persisted. Lan Xiao unlocked it, dialed a number, and paused with her thumb hovering over the call button before finally opening the door.

The moment she cracked the door open, she was greeted by the crisp, minty aroma of alcohol.

The scent was familiar. Lan Xiao paused for two seconds, dredging its name from her memory.

Winter’s Letter?

Xue Jiqing had made her try that wine several times, leaving an indelible impression from her first taste.

It had been three years. She wondered if Chen Qiao and Xue Jiqing’s relationship had progressed.

Her thoughts drifted for a moment before her gaze slowly settled on the person standing before her.

About her height, with dark, peach-blossom eyes that glistened as if freshly dipped in wine.

Lan Xiao instinctively moved to close the door.

“Ah—!”

A sharp cry of pain erupted from outside. Lan Xiao’s eyelid twitched as she glanced down at the hand trapped between the door and the frame.

The fingers had gone completely pale from the pressure. Their slender appearance made Lan Xiao wonder if she had closed the door with more force, she might have broken them.

Grip tightening on the doorknob, Lan Xiao expressionlessly pulled the door open and snatched the room card from Ye Ling’s hand.

The hotel logo was the same, the last two digits of the room number matched, but the first two were different.

“You’re on the wrong floor,” Lan Xiao said, handing the card back.

Ye Ling didn’t take the card, her hand still gripping the doorframe. A neat white vertical line marked where her hand had been pinched, radiating redness around it.

Lan Xiao glanced at it again, noticing it seemed slightly swollen.

Given the force she’d used, it shouldn’t have broken any bones. But this was no reason for Ye Ling to pretend she didn’t understand, staring back at her with wide eyes.

Even after drinking heavily, she couldn’t be this drunk, could she?

Lan Xiao muttered to herself, then realized she’d never actually seen Ye Ling drunk before. In fact, she’d rarely seen her drink at all.

Ye Ling loathed losing control and always avoided alcohol, only taking polite sips when she couldn’t refuse.

Besides, she had such a severe stomach condition. She’d been feeling unwell on the plane just earlier… How long had it been? Was she trying to kill herself?

Lan Xiao’s eyebrows shot up, and she nearly blurted out her thoughts, barely managing to bite back the words.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. “Should I call Special Assistant Meng?”

Ye Ling didn’t respond, standing there like a wooden doll, staring blankly ahead.

“…?”

Lan Xiao felt a headache coming on. Softening her tone, she said, “You’re on the wrong floor. Do you understand? Say something.”

Ye Ling shook her head. “I’m not on the wrong floor.”

Lan Xiao decided not to argue with someone too drunk to recognize numbers. “Even if you didn’t get the wrong floor, you still have the wrong room,” she said.

This time, Ye Ling didn’t argue.

Lan Xiao continued, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll have the hotel staff take you back to your room?”

Ye Ling frowned, glancing at her hand gripping the doorframe, then back at the person in front of her.

Finally, she lifted her hand, extending the injured part toward Lan Xiao, her voice tinged with unmistakable grievance.

“It hurts.”