The Villainess Is Pretending to Be Sweet Again Today (Transmigration) - Chapter 38

Wednesday brought overcast skies and continuous rain.

Such prolonged winter rain was rare in this area—it had been pouring nonstop for two days without any sign of letting up.

At around 8 PM, Mu Jiazhao called Long Huaichang. Long Huaichang didn’t know how she had gotten her number, but she didn’t ask.

Mu Jiazhao’s voice on the phone was calm, though she sounded exhausted.

“Tomorrow at 8 AM, my assistant will pick you up downstairs,” Mu Jiazhao said. “Just come down dressed and ready. Wear black, since it’s a funeral.”

Long Huaichang gave a quiet “Mm” in agreement.

Mu Jiazhao wasn’t surprised by her indifferent response and continued, “Have you thought about what I mentioned last time?”

Long Huaichang replied, “No need. I’m only attending the funeral to save you from embarrassment. The others aren’t my concern.”

“Well, I should thank you for that consideration then.”

“…”

There wasn’t much else to say, and Mu Jiazhao soon hung up. Long Huaichang stared at the darkened screen, feeling dazed.

A year ago, such a conversation would have been unimaginable to her.

Though she was the illegitimate daughter of the Long family, Long Huaichang had never enjoyed the luxuries typical of a wealthy heiress. Instead, she and her mother had lived in poverty.

Her father hadn’t even bought her mother a proper home—she had died in a rented apartment.

Her mother, unemployed, spent her days dressing up beautifully, hoping her lover would spare her a glance and provide some living expenses.

For appearances’ sake, she even insisted on sending Long Huaichang to an exorbitantly expensive elite school.

Long Huaichang remembered all of this, but she couldn’t understand her mother. Was it worth sacrificing a lifetime of happiness for such an elusive love?

Gambling away one’s happiness wasn’t something Long Huaichang would ever do.

If she met someone she loved, she would keep them by her side, even if it meant locking them up.

Long Huaichang barely slept that night. By 2 or 3 AM, she was still wide awake.

When Nuo Yang went downstairs for water, she noticed the light still on in Long Huaichang’s room. Why was she still up so late?

Pushing the door open, Nuo Yang found Long Huaichang sitting on the bed, clutching her phone—not playing games, just staring at it.

“Xiao Huai…”

Nuo Yang sat beside her, gently stroking her hair and whispering, “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Tomorrow,” Long Huaichang murmured, “I have to attend the funeral.”

Nuo Yang already knew about it, but seeing Long Huaichang like this tugged at her heart. She pulled her into an embrace and comforted her, “Are you scared?”

“Yeah.”

Long Huaichang wrapped her arms around Nuo Yang’s waist, breathing in her pleasant scent, and spoke softly, “I don’t know how to face those people. Whenever I think of them, I can almost hear my mother’s voice.”

Nuo Yang stroked Long Huaichang’s long black hair and asked after a moment’s thought, “Then… can I come with you? If I’m there, you wouldn’t be so scared, right?”

Long Huaichang looked up at Nuo Yang and asked, “Can I bring you?”

“Well… even if I can’t go in, I can wait for you outside.”

“Sis…”

Long Huaichang pressed her forehead against Nuo Yang’s, their faces so close they could feel each other’s breath.

Nuo Yang found herself nearly breathless under the gaze of those dark eyes, acutely aware of the younger girl’s arms still around her waist—an undeniably intimate position.

This wasn’t the kind of gesture a 17-year-old should be making…

Watching her sister’s face gradually flush, Long Huaichang couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you, but I think some things I need to face alone.”

She would be 18 soon. She couldn’t keep relying on Nuo Yang for everything.

Though her sister appeared dependable, Long Huaichang knew she was actually more scatterbrained and worrisome than herself.

The thought of someone taking Nuo Yang away—that adorable girl she could no longer hold like this—terrified her.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go by myself,” Long Huaichang whispered. “Sis, thank you…”

Thank you for staying by her side all this time.

——————

At dawn the next day, Long Huaichang was already up.

Nuo Yang, still groggy from sleep, heard the stirrings. They’d ended up sharing a bed last night after she’d spent hours comforting the younger girl.

After all, with the whole house to themselves, where they slept hardly mattered.

Long Huaichang selected a black trench coat and trousers from her wardrobe—even the sweater underneath was black.

Perched on the bed hugging her knees, Nuo Yang yawned and remarked, “Why so much black?”

You look like a little grim reaper.

Freeing her long hair from the sweater collar, Long Huaichang turned. “It’s a funeral.”

“Oh, right.” Nuo Yang scrambled up. “Bright colors would be inappropriate.”

Though part of her wanted to throw Long Yingjun a celebratory send-off, that would be terribly disrespectful to the dead—a thought she quickly dismissed.

She beckoned. “Come here, let me fix your outfit.”

With a soft chuckle, Long Huaichang sat on the bed as Nuo Yang retrieved a hairclip from the nightstand to tame her stray strands.

“Won’t you be cold in just a trench coat?” Nuo Yang fretted, touching the thin fabric. “Let me get you my scarf!”

Darting out, she rummaged through her own room before returning with a beige scarf.

Funerals didn’t require head-to-toe black, she reasoned. At seventeen, Long Huaichang should shine, not drown in gloom.

As the scarf settled around the younger girl’s neck, her entire demeanor brightened—the oppressive darkness lifting instantly.

Long Huaichang lowered her head and gently rubbed her nose against the soft scarf. The cashmere fabric was gentle against her skin, wrapping around her neck with exceptional comfort.

And… it carried Nuo Yang’s scent.

Though it might seem a bit obsessive, Long Huaichang loved the faint, pleasant fragrance that lingered on Nuo Yang—so soothing that just holding her could lull her to sleep.

Seeing that it was almost time, Long Huaichang finally spoke up, “Sis, I have to go now.”

“Aren’t you having breakfast?” Nuo Yang asked.

Long Huaichang shook her head. She had no appetite, nor was she in the mood to eat.

Knowing she was upset, Nuo Yang didn’t push her, only reminding her softly, “Once you get there, keep quiet and stay unnoticed, okay?”

“Mm,” Long Huaichang nodded. “Got it, sis.”

Just as she finished speaking, the door was knocked on—right at 8 o’clock sharp.

Standing at the entrance was the same female assistant from before. Seeing that Long Huaichang was ready, she smiled and said, “Miss, the car is waiting downstairs. Please follow me.”

Nuo Yang glanced at her, worry flickering in her eyes. “Can I go with her?”

The assistant, aware of Nuo Yang’s identity and her role in caring for Long Huaichang over the past year, politely declined. “I’m sorry, but this is a private funeral for the Long family. Only family members are allowed to attend.”

Nuo Yang’s heart sank. She was terrified that Long Huaichang might leave and never return.

Seeing the distress in her sister’s eyes, Long Huaichang reached out and gently touched her cheek, murmuring, “Wait for me at home, sis. I’ll be back soon.”

Downstairs, a black car was already parked by the curb.

The assistant opened the door for her, and Long Huaichang slipped inside.

The car was empty except for her. After exchanging a few words with the driver, the assistant turned to Long Huaichang in the back seat. “Miss, the ride might feel a bit dull. Would you like to listen to some music?”

Long Huaichang gazed at the scenery fading outside the window and replied indifferently, “Whatever.”

The car moved at a steady pace. Due to the recent rain, the streets were sparsely populated with vehicles and pedestrians.

Soon, a thin layer of mist formed on the window in front of her. She paid it no mind, simply staring blankly until, after what felt like an eternity, they finally arrived.

The private cemetery of the Long family was already crowded with cars in the parking lot. The driver found a spacious spot to park before announcing, “We’re here.”

The assistant turned to Long Huaichang and repeated, “We’ve arrived, Miss.”

Stepping out of the car, Long Huaichang was greeted by the vast expanse of lush green mountains, shrouded in a hazy mist under the rain—almost surreal in its beauty.

At that moment, a black umbrella was held over her head. The assistant smiled and said, “Miss, it’s raining. Follow me this way, and watch your step.”

Long Huaichang scanned the unfamiliar faces around her. These were people of wealth and status, each trailed by assistants in sharp suits holding umbrellas for their employers, guiding them forward.

They looked like a field of black flowers in full bloom.

She had never known the affluent lived like this—back then, she had always held her own umbrella.

The Long family’s private cemetery was vast, nestled in a clearing between three mountains.

This entire area, including the surrounding mountains and rivers, belongs to the Long family estate. Only members of the Long family are buried here.

Entering the memorial hall, its interior matched the exterior’s impression—spacious and luxurious. The vaulted ceiling soared so high it nearly disappeared from view. The entire hall was brilliantly illuminated, with Long Yingjun’s portrait hanging prominently at the center, looking somewhat unfamiliar.

“Young Miss,” the assistant said softly, “The Dowager is over there. Would you like to see her?”

Following the direction the assistant pointed, she saw a white-haired elderly lady sitting in a wheelchair, surrounded by several women who were discreetly wiping away tears with sorrowful expressions.

Long Huaichang knew that was her sharp-tongued grandmother and her scheming relatives.