Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 27

27

The system’s malfunction didn’t stop there; it continued to play out in her mind.

The crackling sound of electricity persisted intermittently, occasionally spitting out a few fragmented words that couldn’t form a complete sentence.

It took about three minutes for it to finally quiet down.

Those three minutes were excruciating for Cheng Xing.

She couldn’t even control her emotions—her brows furrowed tightly, and her face, rarely showing impatience, betrayed her frustration.

When the electric noise finally ceased, she sat there with a stern expression, saying nothing, her mind devoid of even a single question.

Yet the system took the initiative to report: [Awoo! A complex issue occurred during the system broadcast. The Interstellar Fate Management Bureau’s computing center experienced a malfunction, but it has now been urgently repaired.]

[Awoo! Congratulations, Host! Your strategy progress has reached 35%, rewarding you with 400,000 HKD. Keep up the great work!]

[Beep—strategy value decreased by 10%, activating penalty mechanism. Penalty task issued.]

[Awoo! Since the time between the strategy progress increase and the strategy value decrease was less than one minute, per Interstellar Fate Management Bureau regulations, no penalty task will be issued this time. Instead, 200,000 HKD of the strategy reward will be deducted.]

[P.S.: It’s not that the system wants to make things hard for you, really! It’s just that a woman’s heart is like a needle at the bottom of the sea—human hearts are fickle, and women’s hearts even more so.]

Cheng Xing: “…”

After the system’s lengthy broadcast ended, Cheng Xing remained silent.

[Awoo! The Host’s current strategy progress is 25%, with 1,000,000 HKD remaining in the strategy account. Awesome job!]

Cheng Xing no longer cared about the system’s calculations. She only asked, “Why did Jiang Ciyi’s favorability toward me drop so much this time?”

The last time her strategy value decreased was because Jiang Ciyi overheard her conversation with Liu Ning and misunderstood, thinking Cheng Xing was colluding with Liu Ning to humiliate her at Guan Linmin’s birthday banquet.

But this time?

The atmosphere between her and Jiang Ciyi tonight had been harmonious, and the increase in strategy value was unexpected.

Jiang Ciyi hadn’t met anyone else or taken any calls, and Cheng Xing had been with her the entire time. So why did this happen?

Cheng Xing had a reasonable suspicion—

“Is your Interstellar Fate Management Bureau deliberately trying to make me fail the mission?”

System: [Awoo! That’s unfair! The system wants nothing more than for the Host to complete the mission right now. But the Interstellar Fate Management Bureau’s computing center is equipped with the universe’s most advanced monitoring equipment, with a calculation accuracy of 99.99%. It never makes mistakes.]

“From a probability standpoint, your statement is wrong. A 99.99% accuracy rate means there’s a 0.01% chance of error, so it’s not true that it never makes mistakes. In other words, one out of ten thousand people could be affected by that 0.01% error. And I might just be that one in ten thousand.”

[Awoo! Wuu! Wuuu!]

The system, as if dumbfounded, tried to find flaws in her argument to refute but ended up sounding like it was throwing a tantrum with those few words.

Its phrasing was oddly disjointed.

Cheng Xing took a deep breath. “For this kind of issue, doesn’t your Interstellar Fate Management Bureau offer any compensation?”

[Awoo! What do you want?]

“The truth.”

[Awoo! After a thorough investigation by the Interstellar Fate Management Bureau headquarters, the judgment has been confirmed accurate. The Host’s current strategy progress is 25%. Please continue to work hard to complete the strategy mission!]

“…”

After the takeout arrived, Cheng Xing ate quietly.

The system’s antics tonight had completely ruined the good mood she’d had since waking up in the evening.

Surprisingly, Jiang Ciyi was also quiet.

Though Jiang Ciyi had always been reserved, her eyes were usually expressive—not a flat silence but a subtle observation of Cheng Xing’s every move, tinged with curiosity and probing, though masked by her aloofness.

But since Cheng Xing arrived here, the first person she saw every day was Jiang Ciyi, and the person she paid the most attention to was also Jiang Ciyi. She analyzed every word Jiang Ciyi said as if it were a reading comprehension exercise.

Naturally, she could read Jiang Ciyi’s expressions clearly.

But tonight, after they returned from outside, Jiang Ciyi only focused on eating.

There were carrots in the claypot rice, which Cheng Xing had carefully picked out before handing the dish to her.

In fact, when she first opened the lid and saw the carrots, she was exasperated.

She had clearly noted “no carrots” when ordering the food.

But the restaurant still included them.

This restaurant was just like the system that brought her here—incapable of understanding instructions.

Even so, Cheng Xing patiently removed all the carrots and handed the dish to Jiang Ciyi.

Yet Jiang Ciyi, who usually maintained a polite facade, didn’t even say thank you.

Cheng Xing stole a few glances at her, but their eyes never met.

Now, Cheng Xing believed the system’s calculations were correct.

But she couldn’t understand—what had she done to wrong Jiang Ciyi?

Was it another mess left by the original host?

She had already resolved so many of those.

Cheng Xing was exhausted. While eating, she kept thinking but couldn’t come up with an answer, and the food tasted bland.

After finishing, she set down her spoon and looked up just as Jiang Ciyi put down her utensils, preparing to clear the table.

Cheng Xing spoke up, “I’ll clean up.”

But Jiang Ciyi ignored her and continued tidying. As she reached to put the lid back on the takeout container, Cheng Xing placed her hand over it, accidentally brushing Jiang Ciyi’s fingers.

Jiang Ciyi quickly pulled her hand back, the fleeting coolness of her touch vanishing. She turned her wheelchair and left.

Cheng Xing watched her retreating figure—desolate, resolute.

The atmosphere in the hospital room turned strange, a low pressure spreading like cold air, enveloping every corner of the room.

Cheng Xing lowered her gaze, looking at the mess on the table, and let out a soft, barely audible sigh before focusing on cleaning up.

She packed all the takeout containers back as they were, placed them in a garbage bag, and threw them in the trash can.

She wiped the table with the remaining tissues.

Both she and Jiang Ciyi had good dining habits, so nothing had spilled on the table, and a quick wipe was enough.

It was nearing midnight, and the hospital had grown much quieter. Looking out the window, there were hardly any people downstairs, and even the cars on the street had dwindled.

In the stillness, Jiang Ciyi maneuvered her wheelchair to the bathroom to wash up.

She completely ignored Cheng Xing, treating her as if she were invisible.

Cheng Xing stood in the middle of the room, feeling a pang of bitterness and discomfort.

The bathroom door closed tightly, with the faint sound of running water. Soon after, Jiang Ciyi emerged in her wheelchair, her face freshly washed.

Her clean face looked much the same, except for a slight redness at the tip of her nose.

Cheng Xing deliberately stood between the bathroom and the bed, but Jiang Ciyi maneuvered her wheelchair past her without even glancing up.

Cold indifference.

And a trace of hatred.

That hatred was faint, something Cheng Xing had only seen in Jiang Ciyi’s eyes on the first day she transmigrated here.

Back then, Jiang Ciyi’s eyes had burned with a hatred so intense it seemed she wanted to drag Cheng Xing down with her.

But later, as Cheng Xing began testing the waters, that hatred gradually faded.

She never expected it to resurface today.

They had been chatting so pleasantly earlier, discussing the stars and the moon, and the connections between people. For a moment, Cheng Xing felt a sense of freedom and comfort, reminiscent of the days when she exchanged letters with her pen pal.

Back in high school, it was trendy to have pen pals. People would meet new friends online, exchange addresses, and send letters to each other.

In an era with the internet, they still wanted to preserve the original charm of written words.

Cheng Xing initially had several pen pals, but writing letters was time-consuming. Even an 800-word essay for the college entrance exam was a struggle for her, so she gradually lost interest. Her letters to her pen pals became dull, and slowly, she lost contact with them.

But one pen pal, a girl named “Wa Pian,” sent her a letter every month, sharing stories about her school life, how she wasn’t very popular, what dishes her grandmother cooked, or the jasmine flowers growing at her home.

After exchanging addresses with her pen pals, Cheng Xing deleted their contact information, agreeing to communicate only through letters. So, she no longer had Wa Pian’s contact details. She initially thought she’d lose touch with Wa Pian, just like the others.

But Wa Pian was persistent. She seemed to have few friends, so every month, she faithfully sent a letter.

Gradually, Cheng Xing started sharing too—new movies, books she bought, sweet-and-sour ribs her mom made, or red envelopes from her grandparents. They were trivial things, sometimes mixed with worries, like her rank dropping after midterms, a sharp decline in mock exam scores, or realizing her college entrance exam results might not get her into her dream school.

Cheng Xing kept in regular contact with her, even encouraging her in her letters.

Wa Pian once wrote that she was locked in a bathroom overnight by female classmates. It was dark, with no light, and she nearly fainted from fear. Cheng Xing told her to place a knife on the table and, if anyone bullied her again, to swing it wildly with her eyes closed.

But it had to be an unsharpened knife—she couldn’t actually hurt anyone, or she’d end up in jail.

Wa Pian said that experience left her with claustrophobia, unable to stay alone in dark places.

Cheng Xing asked if she had anyone to protect her or if she could tell her parents or teachers.

Wa Pian said she had no one to rely on, so Cheng Xing encouraged her to become stronger, saying that someone without weaknesses would be the strongest.

Back then, they corresponded as frequently as every half month. At first, Cheng Xing’s writing wasn’t great—she’d hold the pen for ages and struggle to write a few words.

But to better describe her experiences and make her mundane life sound more interesting, she started reading all kinds of books and shared them with her pen pal. Sometimes, an entire letter would be a book review.

At first, she was nervous rereading her own letters, worried her pen pal would find them boring.

But to her surprise, Wa Pian’s next letter began: Dear He Miao, I read the book you recommended. Like you, I couldn’t calm down for a long time after finishing it.

Wa Pian would write book reviews from a completely different perspective.

Over time, Cheng Xing grew to love reading. By the time she was in college, she could write 2,000-word letters to her pen pal.

In her letters, Cheng Xing shared her current life—studying a major she loved, staying close to home.

Wa Pian had mentioned her major, which, coincidentally, was also forensic science.

But she said she had no talent for it, was terrified of dissecting bodies, and trembled in the lab. During her first dissection class, she vomited uncontrollably and was considering changing majors.

Cheng Xing encouraged her but also advised her to be brave if she was set on switching.

Later, it seemed Wa Pian decided to change majors. Her letters grew shorter, with fewer details about her life, filled only with melancholy.

Gradually, Cheng Xing stopped receiving replies.

Three months later, Cheng Xing sent a letter with her phone number, confessing a vague affection for Wa Pian. If Wa Pian felt the same, she could call or text, and they could meet in person.

But Cheng Xing never received a reply.

She always referred to that faceless, nameless connection as her first love.

Tonight, the atmosphere of Jiang Ciyi sitting in the bookstore reading fulfilled the pure, beautiful fantasies Cheng Xing had in high school.

So, chatting with her later felt comfortable and free.

Cheng Xing watched as Jiang Ciyi raised her wheelchair, using her arms to get onto the bed.

She didn’t even glance at her.

After settling on the bed, Jiang Ciyi picked up a book from the table and started reading, completely treating Cheng Xing as invisible.

Unable to bear it, Cheng Xing stepped forward, grabbed the book, and forced Jiang Ciyi to look up at her.

Jiang Ciyi only said coldly, “Let go.”

“What’s wrong?” Cheng Xing asked. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Jiang Ciyi replied flatly, “The things you did before are your biggest mistake.”

“But you said that was in the past.” Cheng Xing said. “Didn’t we agree to coexist peacefully for these two months? I’ll change, and you’ll get what you want.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” Jiang Ciyi said, tilting her head back, her slender neck arching gracefully. “Cheng Xing, you’re still the same Cheng Xing.”

Cheng Xing frowned. “What do you mean? Of course I’m Cheng Xing. Don’t you know that?”

“Heh.” Jiang Ciyi let out a cold laugh. “You can’t change your true nature.”

“Have I done anything bad to you?” Cheng Xing asked. “If you’re worried about our agreement not being formalized, I can prepare the contract tomorrow. Once it’s signed, it’s binding—I can’t back out. You were fine earlier, but you’ve been like this since we got back. Have you considered how I feel?”

“No.” Jiang Ciyi said coldly. “No need. Let’s divorce.”

“Why?” Cheng Xing asked. “Even if I’m to die, at least let me know why. We had an agreement.”

Jiang Ciyi closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I can’t keep pretending with someone who wants me dead for another two months.”

“When have I ever wanted you dead?” Cheng Xing asked. “All I want now is for you to get better. Jiang Ciyi, since the day we came to the hospital, you’ve seen how I’ve treated you. You can feel it, right? I’m not the old me you think I am.”

“Then who are you?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

Cheng Xing: “…I’m me. I’m Cheng Xing.”

But not the original Cheng Xing.

Jiang Ciyi closed her book and set it aside. “Leave. I need to calm down.”

Cheng Xing didn’t want to push too hard. Though she felt stifled, she spoke gently, patiently trying to explain and get an answer.

Now that Jiang Ciyi had said this, she couldn’t press further. She said quietly, “Rest well.”

“Jiang Ciyi, no matter what others have told you, please believe what you see and trust your own judgment, okay?” Cheng Xing said. “I don’t want to be the despicable person you once thought I was.”

She said all she could.

She had fought for what she could.

But Jiang Ciyi remained expressionless, eyes closed, clearly unwilling to engage.

Cheng Xing said softly, “I’ll step out. Rest well.”

After she left, Jiang Ciyi slowly opened her eyes and picked up her phone, opening her chat with Xu Congshi.

The latest message was a medical report from Xu Congshi.

The report confirmed that the current Cheng Xing was still the same Cheng Xing as before.

All of Jiang Ciyi’s previous guesses and hopes had become a joke.

Even she herself had become a joke.