Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 16

16

This meal was far too “lively”—a battlefield of open and veiled attacks, with tension crackling like swords clashing.

Everyone at the table was like a weasel in a melon field, eyes darting between the key players, but none dared to speak, fearing they’d get caught in the crossfire of a city gate’s blaze.

Jiang Ciyi’s words were utterly disrespectful, and given the old lady’s temper, another outburst was expected.

But before the old lady could erupt, Cheng Xing nervously piped up, “There’s a bruise on your forehead? If Grandma hit you, does that count as domestic violence?”

“Why don’t we call Officer Wang to take a look?” As Cheng Xing reached out to touch Jiang Ciyi’s forehead, her fingers barely grazed it before Jiang Ciyi flinched in pain.

Cheng Xing’s fingers trembled slightly, her tone sharp. “In all my life, I’ve never seen a grandmother hit her granddaughter-in-law, especially when she’s a public servant like you.”

“If this gets out, it’ll be the Cheng family’s reputation that takes the hit.” Cheng Xing said, glaring at the old lady. “The whole family will suffer.”

The old lady’s anger fizzled out instantly. One moment she was clutching her chest, claiming it hurt; the next, she was pressing her temples, looking faint. Xu Zhaozhao helped her upstairs to rest.

The other children called for the family doctor, while everyone else sat in awkward silence, exchanging glances.

Among the grandchildren, Cheng Zimo was the eldest, so all eyes turned to him.

After a moment’s thought, he said gravely, “I have an online meeting to attend.”

With that, he stood up with his wife and left.

Having been publicly scolded by the old lady in front of everyone, Cheng Zimo was clearly displeased and used the excuse to slip away.

The others, quick to catch on, found their own excuses to leave.

The family banquet, meant to welcome the old lady back to the country, ended in chaos and dissatisfaction.

Cheng Xing, however, wasn’t fazed by the old lady’s retreat upstairs with the family doctor.

When the old lady had pressed her temples, feigning a headache, she’d sneaked a glance at Cheng Xing. At over eighty years old, her face was rosy, her hair dyed darker than Cheng Xing’s—a woman in her twenties. Despite some wrinkles, she was well-preserved and could easily live another five years.

Having worked with her grandfather since starting university, Cheng Xing had seen thousands of elderly patients in traditional Chinese medicine clinics. One glance at someone’s face was enough for her to gauge their health.

The old lady’s act was nothing more than an attempt to guilt-trip her and Jiang Ciyi, but Cheng Xing felt no burden.

She had no moral qualms about dealing with such a stubborn old woman.

Though she’d promised Guan Linmin to stay at the old mansion tonight, given the situation, that seemed unlikely.

Cheng Xing crouched down to examine the injury on Jiang Ciyi’s forehead. She didn’t ask if it hurt—obviously, it hurt like hell, but Jiang Ciyi wouldn’t admit it.

After a quick look, Cheng Xing stood, went to the kitchen, and asked the maid for an ice pack. She returned and crouched beside Jiang Ciyi, gently applying the cold compress to her forehead.

Jiang Ciyi, lost in thought, flinched when the ice pack touched her skin, snapping back to reality.

Her eyes met Cheng Xing’s.

Those clear, bright eyes were focused intently on her forehead, a stark contrast to their usual demeanor.

“I’m sorry,” Cheng Xing said, meeting Jiang Ciyi’s probing gaze without hesitation, her voice soft with apology. “I promised to protect you, but you still got hurt.”

“It was an accident.” Jiang Ciyi replied, reaching for the ice pack. Her fingers accidentally brushed against Cheng Xing’s.

In that fleeting moment, their fingertips met, and Jiang Ciyi felt a cool sensation. Her expression shifted slightly, and she quickly pulled back.

Cheng Xing didn’t think much of it.

As a doctor, brief physical contact with a patient was normal.

It was just fingers, after all.

Still…

“It’s cold. Let me hold it for you.” Cheng Xing said. “This injury happened because of me, so let me do this small thing for you.”

Jiang Ciyi didn’t refuse. She withdrew her hand, letting it rest at her side, subtly rubbing her fingers as if trying to erase the sensation.

In the vast room, the only sounds were the maids quietly clearing away the barely touched dishes.

Cheng Xing hadn’t even gotten to try several of the dishes, which was a shame.

The maids, well-trained, moved with minimal noise.

Cheng Xing’s hand grew colder, but she kept the ice pack in place.

For an injury like Jiang Ciyi’s, extended cold compresses in the early stages would speed up recovery.

Such a beautiful face shouldn’t be marred by bruises—it would be a crime against nature.

After a while, Jiang Ciyi, estimating enough time had passed, told her to stop. But Cheng Xing shook her head. “A little longer.”

Even while applying the ice pack, Cheng Xing maintained a respectful distance.

Five more minutes passed, and Cheng Xing’s hand was nearly numb from the cold. Only then did she remove the ice pack.

Condensation had formed on the ice pack, and as she lifted it, a droplet rolled down her finger and fell onto Jiang Ciyi’s skirt.

The orange tie-dye dress, with its layered hem resembling a cascade of vibrant flowers, now bore a single water droplet.

Like a drop of sweet rain falling into a garden of a thousand blooms.

Cheng Xing quickly moved to wipe it away, but her hand brushed against Jiang Ciyi’s stiffened leg through the fabric.

No reaction.

Her hand froze, and out of medical instinct, she couldn’t help but gently press and feel.

Normally, if someone touched your leg—especially your thigh—you’d have a reflex, like a knee jerk. But Jiang Ciyi didn’t move.

It was like touching two slender, rigid poles.

Cheng Xing’s brow furrowed. The condition of Jiang Ciyi’s legs seemed serious.

Just as she was about to continue, Jiang Ciyi said softly, “They’re really gone.”

Cheng Xing looked up, meeting her calm, cold eyes.

“Unless a miracle happens,” Jiang Ciyi said evenly, “I’ll never stand again.”

Cheng Xing was speechless.

The original host of this body had caused so much harm.

“What if there really is a miracle?” Cheng Xing handed the ice pack to a nearby maid, forcing a smile to comfort her. “Medical science is advancing so quickly. Who knows, maybe one day they’ll develop a miracle drug.”

“You said ‘what if,’” Jiang Ciyi replied, her lips curving slightly. “One in ten thousand, or maybe one in a million. Negligible.”

Cheng Xing patted her shoulder. “You’ve got to stay optimistic!”

Jiang Ciyi’s gaze flicked to her hand, and Cheng Xing quickly pulled back, not daring to overstep again.

When she’d patted her shoulder, it was just to encourage a patient. But Jiang Ciyi was wearing a sleeveless dress, and the cool touch of her palm against her shoulder felt like smooth silk. It was only afterward that Cheng Xing realized how pleasant it was.

Her thumb brushed over her other fingers, the coolness in her palm fading.

Looking down, she saw Jiang Ciyi staring into the distance. The sky had darkened, and outside the large glass window, a small path lined with warm yellow streetlights stretched out, paved with white pebbles and surrounded by flowers and grass. A fountain stood on one side.

Jiang Ciyi’s eyes held a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

Cheng Xing waited, but Jiang Ciyi seemed to sink deeper into her thoughts. Finally, she waved a hand in front of her face. “What are you thinking about?”

Jiang Ciyi snapped back, her tone flat. “Nothing.”

This place felt vaguely familiar, like she’d seen it somewhere before.

But the memory was hazy.

Cheng Xing didn’t notice anything unusual and nodded. “Alright. Shall we head home?”

“Home where?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

“Our home.” Cheng Xing replied, glancing back at the opulent, spacious mansion. She liked the room’s decor, but staying here tonight with the old lady…

She had some concerns.

Jiang Ciyi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to check on your grandmother?”

“She’s fine.” Cheng Xing said, pushing her wheelchair toward the exit. “Besides, with so many people fawning over her, it’s better if I don’t go and upset her.”

The thought of the old lady made Cheng Xing’s bl00d boil. She glanced at Jiang Ciyi’s forehead, where the bruise had spread after the ice compress, still painful-looking despite not diminishing her beauty.

“I’ve never seen someone so unreasonable,” Cheng Xing muttered, shaking her head. “It’s better to see her as little as possible.”

Otherwise, she might end up giving the old lady a real illness.

When Cheng Xing interned in the geriatrics department, the elderly patients adored her for her patience and gentle nature. She’d bring snacks or small toys during rounds, and if anyone was grumpy or targeted her, the other patients would defend her.

She had her own ways of handling difficult patients and never tolerated mistreatment just because she was an intern.

Her temperament was famously mild, but that didn’t mean she was a pushover.

As she reminisced about her hospital days and the “tactics” she’d developed, someone blocked her path.

The person who’d driven them here extended a long arm to stop them. “Miss, Madam instructed that you and Miss Jiang cannot leave tonight.”

“Why not?” Cheng Xing frowned.

Guan Linmin had gone upstairs with the others to “play her part” as the dutiful daughter-in-law. Why was she stopping them from leaving?

“I don’t know,” the man said honestly. “But Madam said you and Miss Jiang should return to your room, and she’ll explain later.”

“And if I want to leave today?” Cheng Xing pressed.

“Well…” The man looked troubled.

A voice called from upstairs. “Little sis, don’t make things hard for him. Staying one night won’t kill you. Tomorrow’s Mom’s birthday—don’t tell me you’re going to leave today and come back tomorrow.”

Cheng Xing looked up to see her second brother, Cheng Zijing.

The original host was a troublemaker, but her family was good.

At the dinner table, the eldest brother, Cheng Zimo, had been scolded by the old lady. At thirty-two, he held dual degrees from Columbia University and was the general manager of the Cheng Group, overseeing dozens of companies across industries.

Her second brother, Cheng Zijing, thirty, a Kyoto University graduate, was now the president of a publicly listed company, striking out on his own.

The original host was like a bad sprout in a fine bamboo grove.

The brothers had contrasting personalities—Cheng Zimo was steady, Cheng Zijing carefree—but they both doted on their only sister.

Their way of doting, as typical straight men, was to shower her with money.

The original host had the setup of a protagonist but was cast as a vicious, cannon-fodder villain.

Cheng Xing shook her head helplessly and asked Cheng Zijing, “You staying tonight too?”

“Yup.” Cheng Zijing whistled from upstairs. “Bring your wife up, and we can play some cards.”

Cheng Xing: “…”

The old lady was supposedly on her deathbed, and this guy was thinking about cards?

What a “dutiful” grandson.

After a pause, Cheng Xing said, “Let me ask her.”

She bent down to Jiang Ciyi. “Want to go? Or I can take you back to the room to rest.”

Cheng Zijing, watching from above, chuckled teasingly. “Little sis, you’re whipped.”

Jiang Ciyi looked up as he leaned on the railing, grinning. “With such a beautiful wife, you should listen to her.”

Cheng Xing’s face flushed at his repeated use of “wife.” Worried Jiang Ciyi might misunderstand, she leaned close to her ear and whispered, “My second brother loves to joke. Don’t take it to heart.”

“It’s fine.” Jiang Ciyi said coolly. “Let’s go up and see.”

Cheng Xing nodded, pushing her wheelchair forward but heading toward the wrong elevator. Jiang Ciyi’s low voice stopped her, laced with a hint of teasing. “Where are you going?”

Her tone was cold, but there was an indescribable charm. “Wife, you’re going the wrong way.”

Cheng Xing: “?”

Her foot slipped, and she nearly fell.