I Married My Heartless Ex-Wife’s Black Lotus Sister - Chapter 2

“Yili, my condolences.”

The woman spoke slowly and deliberately, unhurried and calm.

Her voice was gentle, like a warm spring breeze that swept into the heart, dispelling the gloom that had lingered for days.

What?

Zheng Yili frowned. Condolences? Who died?

She strained her ears, trying to get closer to the speaker and hear more clearly, but her foot slipped, throwing her off balance as she stumbled forward.

Yet the expected pain never came—someone had caught her in time.

Their hands were firm and steady, their movements measured just right, so it didn’t feel intrusive.

Who was this? Hadn’t she already died?

Feeling the faint warmth from the other person’s palms seep into her skin through their touch, Zheng Yili stiffened momentarily. After a long pause, she steeled herself and slowly opened her bewildered eyes.

Song Yanqing?

Why her? What was she doing here?

Stunned, Zheng Yili stared straight at her, forgetting to look away.

Song Yanqing, seeing her dazed and unmoving, assumed she was too grief-stricken and disoriented to recognize her yet.

“Qian asked me to come,” Song Yanqing said softly, a trace of resignation in her voice. “She had urgent matters and couldn’t get away, so I’m stepping in to help with your uncle’s funeral arrangements.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already sent someone to comfort Auntie Ji…”

Uncle’s funeral… funeral?!

Zheng Yili snapped back to reality, her gaze darting around.

The familiar mourning hall setup, the familiar portrait—this was the day her father had died suddenly in an accident, and his mistress had stormed in with their illegitimate son, demanding a share of the inheritance!

Had she… been reborn?

And not just reborn, but sent back six or seven years?

Zheng Yili pinched her thigh hard—no pain.

Meanwhile, Song Yanqing, who was still holding her, winced imperceptibly before finally recovering. With a puzzled tone, she asked, “Miss Zheng, why did you pinch me?”

Following Song Yanqing’s gaze, Zheng Yili looked down.

After a suffocating silence, she jerked her hand back and muttered awkwardly, “Sorry, wrong target.”

…Song Yanqing could feel it. Song Yanqing could still feel pain.

Did that mean… she had truly come back to life?

Zheng Yili felt her heart racing, an indescribable joy surging from within, making her slightly swollen, tear-reddened eyes shimmer with a captivating gleam.

Song Yanqing released her and quietly rubbed her still-throbbing thigh.

Honestly, exhausting herself like this every day…

Originally, this matter had nothing to do with Song Yanqing—she had no obligation to be here. But Song Qian had gotten tangled up again with that D-list celebrity Lin Xiaoxiao and refused to come no matter what.

Song Qian and Zheng Yili were engaged, their betrothal arranged personally by the two family elders when they were still alive.

Back then, Song Qian hadn’t objected, so everyone assumed she was willing.

Who knew that once Lin Xiaoxiao appeared, she’d become utterly bewitched, repeatedly pulling these absurd and inappropriate stunts.

The two family patriarchs were once close comrades-in-arms, which naturally fostered good relations between their descendants as well.

Even without any marriage contract, it was only right and proper for the Song family to step in and help the Zheng family handle the funeral arrangements during such times. And that responsibility should have naturally fallen to Song Qi’an.

However, Song Qi’an was already completely infatuated with Lin Xiaoxiao and unwilling to spare any attention for Zheng Yili. So, he resorted to his old tricks again, pushing the matter onto Song Yanqing instead.

Song Yanqing couldn’t refuse. Besides, the Zheng family was now left with only Ji Wushuang and Zheng Yili—a widow and her orphaned daughter—truly a pitiable situation.

Unable to harden her heart, she personally came over to see if there was anything she could do to help.

If nothing else… it would at least lessen some of Song Qi’an’s sins.

Thinking of Song Qi’an’s actions up to now, Song Yanqing sighed silently.

But Zheng Yili didn’t see it that way.

Her deep gaze fixed on the woman before her—stunningly beautiful, disciplined, and refined, like unblemished snow or an immortal banished to the mortal world—her eyes flashing with a complicated chill.

Recalling how, in the past, whenever Song Qi’an messed up and angered her, it was always his elder sister Song Yanqing who stepped in to clean up his mess and placate her, Zheng Yili felt a surge of irritation rise in her chest.

It was almost like a substitute marriage.

Anyone unaware of the truth might think it was Song Yanqing, not Song Qi’an, who had been in a relationship with her and was supposed to marry her.

The memory of Song Yanqing’s deceptively gentle face in her past life flashed through her mind, and Zheng Yili lost all interest in further conversation. Her tone turned unfriendly as she dismissed her guest, “We don’t need your help here, nor are you welcome. Kindly leave at once.”

At this, Song Yanqing lifted her faintly defined eyelids.

Her lashes were long and thick, like crow feathers, tracing a fine black line along her upper lids that inexplicably added a touch of sharpness to her gaze.

Faced with Song Yanqing’s silent scrutiny, Zheng Yili didn’t back down.

She straightened her posture, a gentle smile on her face, yet the words that left her lips were anything but polite. “If you refuse to heed my advice, then I must warn you—I know a thing or two about martial arts.”

The Ji family had practiced martial arts for generations, and Ji Wushuang’s skills were particularly formidable. To this day, she still ran a martial arts school.

However, Zheng Yili had never liked enduring hardship, so she hadn’t devoted much effort to martial arts. Ji Wushuang had forced her several times, nearly driving Zheng Yili to sever ties with her.

After several such incidents, Ji Wushuang finally accepted that her daughter would never inherit her legacy.

Though Zheng Yili’s skills were far from impressive, they were more than enough to handle someone like Song Yanqing—slender, delicate, and seemingly fragile.

So, when Song Yanqing met her gaze, Zheng Yili glared back unflinchingly. “After you.”

Song Yanqing shifted slightly but ultimately didn’t leave.

Soon, commotion erupted in the main hall. Without even guessing, it was clear that An Xian—the mistress—had arrived with An Chenglun, the illegitimate son who was Zheng Yili’s age, to cause a scene.

In her past life, Zheng Yili had been caught off guard, humiliated, and left utterly disgraced.

This time, however, Zheng Yili kept her eyes fixed on the entrance and coldly summoned the security staff. “Throw out every single troublemaker.”

Upon hearing this, the security guards began to move, but faced with the impeccably groomed An Xian—dressed in designer clothes and weeping pitifully—they hesitated due to her status and background, not daring to be too forceful.

Within moments, An Xian and An Chenglun stood before Zheng Yili.

Tears welled in An Xian’s eyes as she immediately dropped to her knees with a thud. “Yili, please, for the sake of your father, acknowledge your younger brother!”

“I’ll do anything you ask, as long as you recognize Chenglun!”

Though the number of mourners today was small, they were all influential figures. Hearing such a sensational bombshell, they discreetly turned their attention toward the scene.

Zheng Yili looked down at the woman before her. Time had left no trace on An Xian’s face—on the contrary, her privileged life had granted her a delicate elegance that belied her age.

“What was your relationship with my father?”

“I know it’s all my fault. I take full responsibility and apologize to you,” An Xian sobbed softly. “Your father isn’t to blame.”

“He just lost his head for a moment, bewitched by me.”

An Xian was adept at using this fragile act to manipulate others into fighting for her interests, and today was no exception.

She had done her research—Zheng Yili was straightforward and guileless. Faced with such a sudden situation, she wouldn’t react quickly enough and would struggle to outright reject them.

As long as Zheng Yili didn’t immediately deny Chenglun’s lineage, her plan would succeed.

“Yili, I know you’re a good person. You wouldn’t want to see your brother suffer outside, would you?”

“You’re absolutely right about that,” Zheng Yili nodded in agreement. At this, An Xian and An Chenglun’s eyes flashed with triumph.

Song Yanqing frowned slightly, casting a disapproving glance in their direction.

Just as she hesitated whether to intervene, Zheng Yili’s innocent voice rang out again:

“But what does that have to do with you?”

“I will cherish my own brother. But as everyone knows, my mother has only ever given birth to one child—me, Zheng Yili. Isn’t that right?”

“So I’m sorry, auntie.”

An Xian’s tears froze. Seeing Zheng Yili refuse to acknowledge her son, she panicked. “But Yili, Chenglun really is your brother! If you don’t believe me, you can take a DNA test—”

“I’d love to, but as you know,” Zheng Yili sighed, spreading her hands, “my father is now a box of ashes. There’s no way to conduct a paternity test with your son.”

“You can do it, Yili. You and Chenglun can take the test.”

“You’re so kind—you wouldn’t refuse me, would you?” An Xian pleaded, reaching out to grasp Zheng Yili’s hand, playing the pitiful victim to perfection.

Zheng Yili knew this woman’s tricks all too well.

The moment An Xian touched her, she shook her off without hesitation. “Enough! You chose this moment to cause a scene precisely because you think the Zheng family—a widow and her daughter—is easy to bully, don’t you?!”

“I don’t care who you are. If you don’t leave now, don’t blame me for what happens next!”

Her sudden change in attitude caught An Xian off guard, causing her to fall onto the cold floor. An Xian froze, unable to react, but An Chenglun, who had been spoiled by his parents since childhood, was furious.

Ignoring his mother’s earlier warnings, he aggressively raised his fist, ready to strike Zheng Yili.

A cold smile flickered across Zheng Yili’s lips—this was exactly the moment she had been waiting for!

Just as An Chenglun’s fist was about to land and Zheng Yili prepared to retaliate and teach him a lesson, a familiar figure swiftly stepped in front of her.