After Faking My Death, My Iceberg Ex-Wife Went Crazy for Me - Chapter 9

If you encountered someone rescued from the water who insisted on jumping back in, what would you do?

Grant her wish? Or keep her under surveillance, denying her the chance?

Ye Ling chose neither.

Her method was to repeatedly submerge the woman, making her flicker like a dying ember on the King of Hell’s ledger.

Unfortunately for Geng Xiaoxiao, she was that flickering ember—the unlucky soul who ultimately clung to life by a thread.

When she was dragged ashore for the final time, she lay gasping like a dying fish, her chest heaving violently, too weak to even twitch a finger.

The commotion in the swimming hall alerted others in the club. A crowd rushed in, their voices rising in a cacophony of questions and concerns.

Some wondered whether to call 120 (emergency medical services) or 110 (police). Others, having witnessed President Ye pressing Geng Xiaoxiao’s head underwater, asked if she would be arrested.

A clear, though far from gentle, voice cut through the noise: “Call both.”

Then, with a dismissive tone, “She’s still breathing, isn’t she? Why would they arrest me?”

Geng Xiaoxiao stared up at the high ceiling, thinking, At least I can still breathe.

Though she hated to admit it, President Ye had shown remarkable restraint. She had repeatedly submerged Geng Xiaoxiao’s head, yet always lifted it at the critical moment, preventing her from choking.

Was this necessary? Geng Xiaoxiao thought. I jumped into the lake multiple times, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to be chased down and killed.

Her eyes darted from left to right.

Something’s wrong.

The venue was clean and brightly lit, bearing no resemblance to the pitch-black depths of the lake she had seen before diving in.

Had she already died? Was this hell or heaven?

Geng Xiaoxiao turned her head, silently watching the woman who was wiping her hands behind her.

It must be hell.

At least, she was certainly no angel.

Perhaps her gaze was too direct, for the woman glanced back, casually tossed aside the towel, and strode over to crouch in front of her.

A faint anger lingered between the woman’s brows, her eyes as cold as if they had been quenched in ice.

“You don’t look very old. How much did they pay you to throw your life away like this? To insist on dying here?”

I don’t understand.

Geng Xiaoxiao’s eyes darted around, catching a glimpse of something wrapped in a plastic bag, its contents obscured. Her eyes lit up, and she crawled toward it on all fours.

The woman followed leisurely, watching her. When she saw Xiaoxiao wasn’t heading back to the water, she didn’t intervene.

Ignoring the woman, Xiaoxiao hooked her fingers through the top layer of the plastic bag’s handle and clutched the bundle protectively to her chest.

The woman crouched down again, tilting her chin upward. “What’s this?”

“…Belongings,” Xiaoxiao replied, tightening her grip. She didn’t notice her voice was rough and dry.

“So, you’re not a mute after all.” The woman raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and asked someone nearby, “Water?”

Two bottles of mineral water were quickly brought over.

The woman picked up one of the bottles and twisted off the cap. “Want a drink?”

Geng Xiaoxiao rolled her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling again.

“Don’t play dumb.”

The woman chuckled in exasperation at her stubborn silence, reaching out to clamp Xiaoxiao’s jaw and forcibly turn her head.

“Are you an adult? Tell me, who sent you here?”

No one. Absolutely no one.

She didn’t know this club was opening tomorrow with a ribbon-cutting ceremony, nor did she understand why she was here.

But she seemed to have done something wrong.

Geng Xiaoxiao felt she should apologize.

But why should she?

She didn’t even know what had happened. How could it be her fault?

Geng Xiaoxiao pouted stubbornly, remaining silent.

The woman sighed, releasing her grip on Xiaoxiao’s face.

A cool sensation washed over Xiaoxiao’s cheek.

The woman was drenched, her long hair plastered against her back, dripping incessantly. Some strands had slipped over her shoulders, sending droplets flying with each movement.

Geng Xiaoxiao struggled to sit up, her eyes red from the recently disinfected water.

Her pitiful appearance seemed to soften President Ye’s tone slightly. “The feeling of suffocating isn’t pleasant, is it? Still want to die?”

Geng Xiaoxiao didn’t dare answer, not only because the question struck at her unspoken desires, but also because she feared the woman’s next words would be, “I’ll help you.”

Fortunately, the woman said nothing more.

She handed over a clean towel, her slender fingers clearly defined against it. The tips of her fingers were pale from being submerged in water, creating pinkish-white wrinkles across her fingertips.

“Dry yourself off,” she said. “When the police arrive, explain how you got in here. Try to think things through. You’re still young…”

Geng Xiaoxiao didn’t respond, staring blankly at the hand.

The hand twitched slightly, urging her to take the towel.

Xiaoxiao obediently took the towel, but before the hand could retract, she lunged forward and bit it fiercely.

Time rewound to four years ago, a moment even she struggled to recall why she had bitten that day.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming tension, fear, and helplessness that drove her to instinctively seek validation.

Only after tasting the warm, metallic, and undeniably human bl00d did her drifting heart finally anchor itself to reality.

A faint smile tugged at Geng Xiaoxiao’s lips. Chen Qiao glanced at her, her own smile mischievous.

“Still claiming it wasn’t romantic? Look at that sweet smile~”

“It really wasn’t romantic…”

Rummaging through her memories, Geng Xiaoxiao found few details she could share with Chen Qiao.

She summarized briefly, “Four years ago, I accidentally fell into the water. Ye… she pulled me out.”

Chen Qiao blinked at her, stunned.

Geng Xiaoxiao blinked back.

“That’s it?” Chen Qiao asked incredulously. “After all this anticipation, you’re just going to sum it up in one sentence?”

“Then I’ll tell you something else?” Geng Xiaoxiao recalled, selecting a shareable memory. “At the time, a club she had invested in was about to open. I happened to be involved in an incident nearby, so she assumed I was there to sabotage the opening.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear…” Chen Qiao wiped her face, still pressing, “You fell into the water! Didn’t anyone give you CPR or anything?”

“No, my swimming skills aren’t that bad,” Geng Xiaoxiao replied.

Chen Qiao muttered, “I feel like you’re pulling my leg.”

Geng Xiaoxiao’s expression remained unchanged. “Just your imagination.”

“But something still feels off…” Chen Qiao scratched her head, then asked, “Why were you out so late anyway?”

Geng Xiaoxiao pursed her lips. “My parents had just passed away. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk and lost track of where I was.”

Then, seeing the water, the urge to jump in had overwhelmed her.

This was the story she had told the police and Ye Ling during the hospital investigation.

The police reviewed surveillance footage from her route, which corroborated Geng Xiaoxiao’s account.

Upon learning that her parents were victims of the previous day’s plane crash, suspicion turned to sympathy.

Even Ye Ling didn’t pursue her “destructive” actions.

…However, that night, Ye Ling had asked the police a strange question:

“Is tonight’s moon a crescent moon?”

Geng Xiaoxiao flipped through a calendar from four years ago. That night should have been a waning crescent moon.

But what intrigued her more was why Ye Ling would still pay attention to the moon after such a traumatic event.

After saying goodbye to Chen Qiao, Geng Xiaoxiao pondered this question. She decided to ask Ye Ling as soon as she returned.

“Why are you suddenly asking about this?” Ye Ling asked casually, holding a file with two faint scars on the web of her hand.

As if burned, Geng Xiaoxiao quickly averted her gaze and followed Ye Ling into the study.

“We were talking about that club with a friend, and it suddenly came to mind. Why did you ask about the moon that night?”

“Let me think… I’ve almost forgotten.” Ye Ling pulled out a chair and sat down, flipping through the documents page by page.

Mo Yuan had acquired a plot of land last year and planned to build a factory there. However, they encountered several stubborn holdouts, delaying the project indefinitely.

Two weeks ago, the most entrenched holdout was detained for fighting. His family initially seemed cooperative, claiming they needed money urgently for their sick child and were about to sign the agreement. But then the man was suddenly released on bail and demanded an exorbitant sum far exceeding the original budget.

Ye Ling twirled her pen, scribbling a few names on the paper.

Multitasking, she answered Geng Xiaoxiao’s question: “For the ribbon-cutting ceremony, I stayed at the clubhouse that night. But for some reason, I couldn’t fall asleep.”

“My room was on the top floor, a ‘starry sky room’ with a gimmick: the roof was made of special glass that could be opened with a remote to reveal the night sky.”

Ye Ling’s pen paused, leaving a dark ink blot on the page.

In a city plagued by severe light pollution, seeing stars at night was rare. Yet that night, when she looked up, the sky was ablaze with constellations.

It was a beautiful sight, but the sight of the thin, crescent moon filled Ye Ling with an unsettling feeling.

This sense of unease lingered in her mind, as if some ominous event was about to unfold.

Never doubting her sixth sense, Ye Ling grabbed a flashlight and began inspecting every room, starting from the front hall.

As she passed the swimming pool, she picked up an unusual sound.

It sounded like fish blowing bubbles.

“…And then, I found you.”

“When the ambulance arrived, I looked up at the sky again. Just like always, it was completely obscured by light pollution. There was nothing to see.”

“I remember asking other people besides the police officer. Some hadn’t noticed anything, while others said they couldn’t see the moon or any stars at all…”

Later, she was overwhelmed by endless work. She barely knew if it was day or night, let alone had time to think about the moon or stars.

Ye Ling put down her pen, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes—a mix of confusion and fervent longing.

Geng Xiaoxiao felt a growing sense of unease. She realized she had forgotten something crucial.

“If—and I mean if—the starry sky I saw that night was real, then why didn’t the lunar phase match the actual date?”

“There’s only one possibility.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. Geng Xiaoxiao, or rather Lan Xiao, finally remembered what she had overlooked.

“What I saw was the sky from another time, perhaps even another dimension.”

It was her moon.