Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 35
35
Cheng Xing didn’t quite grasp the system’s meaning and was too lazy to ask further.
From her observations, the system would answer almost any question, but when it came to critical issues, it would dodge with vague responses.
Right now, Cheng Xing had more pressing matters to attend to.
It had been a week since she arrived here, and she had spent most of her time in the hospital. Although she was with Jiang Ciyi every day, she hadn’t seriously taken her pulse or used the basic diagnostic methods of observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking to assess her condition. She also had no clear idea of how far Jiang Ciyi’s leg recovery had progressed.
But today, she was more attentive. When Jiang Ciyi was discharged, Cheng Xing obtained her medical test results from her attending doctor.
So, in the quiet of the night, she sat in the study, delving into Jiang Ciyi’s condition.
Her leg injury was due to a severe impact, damaging the nerves in her hip and leg, resulting in a loss of sensation.
Her frail constitution and constant cold hands and feet stemmed from a weak spleen and stomach, along with digestive issues.
Cheng Xing immediately ordered three boxes of probiotics online, which would arrive the next day.
The study in Tinglan Mansion was spotless, clearly untouched by the original owner. The bookshelves were filled with a variety of books—mostly social sciences, humanities, and novels.
However, Cheng Xing had the books she bought from the bookstore earlier. She rummaged through the drawers and found a stack of unused notebooks and an unopened pack of ballpoint pens. She took out two notebooks.
One would be used for her study notes, and the other for recording Jiang Ciyi’s treatment plan and recovery progress.
Cheng Xing wasn’t worried about anyone finding the notebooks and suspecting her identity.
Because she shared a trait common among doctors—illegible handwriting.
It’s often joked that medical students have their own unique writing system, with prescriptions so messy that only the dispensing nurse can decipher them.
Cheng Xing’s handwriting was decent when she wrote slowly, even capable of neat small regular script. But when she wrote quickly, it became illegible.
Her kind of illegibility was different from most.
Many medical students only developed messy handwriting after starting work to increase efficiency.
But Cheng Xing had been like this since childhood, learning to write while following her grandparents around. Her kindergarten teacher often kept her after school because of her scrawled handwriting.
Because of this, she had been disciplined countless times as a child, her palms red from being struck.
When taking notes or drafting treatment plans, Cheng Xing didn’t need to try to make her writing messy—it came naturally, and hardly anyone could read it.
Even if someone saw the notebooks, they’d probably just think she was scribbling nonsense.
After observing Jiang Ciyi for several days, Cheng Xing could finally put together a basic patient profile.
[Patient: Jiang Ciyi
Age: 25
Height: 165 cm
Weight: 44 kg (suspected, possibly thinner)
Occupation: Forensic Pathologist / Legal Researcher
Chronic Medical History: None
…]
Cheng Xing began tailoring a treatment plan suited to Jiang Ciyi’s condition.
A combination of medicinal baths, acupuncture, and massage, along with Chinese herbal medicine, would likely be the most effective approach.
But Cheng Xing wasn’t entirely confident.
Her certainty that Chinese medicine could heal Jiang Ciyi’s leg came from the original novel, which described how Shen Qingxue had sought out numerous domestic and international experts to treat Jiang Ciyi’s leg, all to no avail. Ultimately, an old Chinese medicine practitioner used acupuncture and medicinal baths to stimulate sensation in her leg.
Though Cheng Xing’s skills weren’t yet on par with her renowned grandfather’s, she was exceptionally talented in acupuncture. Combined with her family’s unique massage techniques, she could probably hold her own against the old doctor from the book.
If not, she had no choice but to try her best—she was backed into a corner.
Reading and drafting the treatment plan, time slipped by unnoticed. When Cheng Xing felt her neck stiffen, she picked up her phone, which was face-down nearby, and checked the time—it was already 1 a.m.
She rubbed her eyes, stood up to stretch, yawned tiredly, and then closed the notebooks, put them in the drawer, turned off the study’s light, and left.
Back in her room, she took a quick shower, changed into pajamas, and collapsed onto the bed, sinking into its softness.
But as soon as she buried her head in the blanket, she sneezed. She crawled out, sneezing again by the bedside, her nose starting to feel stuffy.
She knew she needed cold medicine, but her body was too exhausted to move.
As she reached to turn off the light, her hand brushed against a white glass cup that was still warm.
She had noticed the cup earlier, assuming it was water left by the housekeeper, probably cold by now and undrinkable.
To her surprise, it was warm. She sat up and took a sip.
…It was cold medicine.
Cheng Xing’s lips curved into a smile.
She hadn’t misjudged.
Jiang Ciyi might have a cold exterior, but her heart was warm.
After drinking the medicine, Cheng Xing turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. She yawned and fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning at breakfast, Cheng Xing was still listless, feeling drained.
But she remembered to thank Jiang Ciyi for the cold medicine. “Thanks for saving me with that medicine last night.”
“Hm?” Jiang Ciyi raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“The cold medicine you made for me. I drank it when I got back from the study—it was still warm,” Cheng Xing said. “You’re so kind.”
Jiang Ciyi bit into her toast, swallowing before replying, “It wasn’t me.”
“You always do good deeds anonymously,” Cheng Xing said with a bright, though tired, smile. “Are you afraid I’ll cling to you if I know it was you?”
“No,” Jiang Ciyi said calmly. “I didn’t make you any medicine yesterday.”
Her expression didn’t waver. “I’m not that kind.”
Cheng Xing: “…Uh?”
The housekeeper, Sister Zhou, spoke gently from the side. “Miss, I prepared it for you.”
Cheng Xing turned to Sister Zhou, embarrassed for mistaking the person. “Oh, okay. Thank you, Sister Zhou.”
“It’s nothing,” Sister Zhou said, glancing at Jiang Ciyi. “But it was Miss Jiang who instructed me to do it.”
Cheng Xing’s tired expression lit up again. “Jiang Ciyi, you’re so kind.”
Jiang Ciyi: “…”
After breakfast, Jiang Ciyi watched Cheng Xing, who looked like she might collapse at any moment, and frowned. “Do you have plans today?”
“Yup,” Cheng Xing said, glancing at her phone. “It’s Saturday. You’re going back to work the day after tomorrow. Let’s go shopping for clothes.”
“No need,” Jiang Ciyi declined. “Stay home and rest. I don’t need clothes.”
“You need to look sharp for work—how can you not get new clothes?” Cheng Xing said. “Besides, I already promised you.”
“But you…” Jiang Ciyi looked at her exhausted state, tempted to call a doctor.
Cheng Xing smiled faintly. “Jiang Ciyi, are you worried about me?”
Jiang Ciyi: “…”
She pursed her lips. “Do you need me to call a doctor?”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.” Cheng Xing said. “Kept having nightmares.”
“Then go catch up on sleep.” Jiang Ciyi said.
Cheng Xing shook her head. “I promised to take you shopping for clothes. How can I go back on my word? Besides, things are different between us now.”
“What’s different?” Jiang Ciyi stared at her, noticing how stubborn—rather, resolute—she could be about certain things.
Cheng Xing glanced at the housekeeper and maids nearby, who quickly understood and left the room.
Once they were alone, Cheng Xing said earnestly, “We’re partners now, and the most important thing in a partnership is trust. Miss Jiang, I forgot to mention yesterday—happy collaboration.”
Jiang Ciyi: “…”
Cheng Xing’s lips were pale, and she looked haggard. Jiang Ciyi frowned. “I don’t need you to buy me clothes. You don’t have to do these things to please me. I don’t need it.”
She paused, her tone cold. “Miss Cheng, we should maintain some boundaries.”
Cheng Xing was taken aback. “I think I’ve been pretty good about boundaries.”
Jiang Ciyi crossed her arms, her demeanor as cold as an unapproachable iceberg. “Going shopping for me while you’re sick could easily make it seem like you’re putting moral pressure on me.”
Cheng Xing blinked, realizing her mistake. “Sorry, I didn’t think of it that way.”
But since she had promised to buy work clothes for Jiang Ciyi, she couldn’t rest easy without following through, even if she took medicine.
A cold was a draining, time-consuming illness. No matter how much medicine you took, it would take at least a week to fully recover.
Feeling her physical exhaustion, Cheng Xing went back to her room and called Zheng Shuqing, asking her to go shopping with Jiang Ciyi in her place.
Zheng Shuqing was stunned when she received the call. She hadn’t saved Cheng Xing’s number and initially thought it was a spam call, hanging up without hesitation.
When she answered and heard Cheng Xing introduce herself, Zheng Shuqing, who was in the middle of writing, typed out a string of ellipses.
Even her screen seemed to convey her speechlessness.
Zheng Shuqing wasn’t exactly fond of Cheng Xing, so her tone was curt. But to her surprise, Cheng Xing politely asked her to accompany Jiang Ciyi shopping, offering to cover all expenses and even letting Zheng Shuqing buy whatever she liked.
Zheng Shuqing agreed, half-dazed, half-bewildered.
As soon as she hung up, she texted Jiang Ciyi: [Did your Cheng Xing get body-snatched?]
Jiang Ciyi: […?]
Still reeling, Zheng Shuqing sat at her desk, her screen displaying a scene where her novel’s female supporting character transmigrated into a book, using her foreknowledge to scheme against the heroine.
Knowing Jiang Ciyi, who was deeply academic and not prone to flights of fancy, she teased, [I mean, she’s transmigrated.]
Jiang Ciyi: [What?]
“In such a short time, she’s like a completely different person. Isn’t that what transmigration is?” Zheng Shuqing joked. “It’s like someone else has taken over her soul.”
Jiang Ciyi: […]
As Jiang Ciyi pondered Zheng Shuqing’s voice-to-text message, Zheng Shuqing called.
“Jiang Jiang, you ready? Where are we shopping?” Zheng Shuqing was already thrilled at the prospect of unlimited shopping. “Since Miss Cheng is footing the bill, how about Donglai Mall? Maybe we could stop by Wanfeng Pavilion for a makeover? She wouldn’t mind, right?”
“Wait,” Jiang Ciyi said calmly. “What did you mean by transmigration?”
“I was kidding. It’s a common trope in novels. You don’t read web novels, but you watch dramas, right?” Zheng Shuqing rattled off, “Like that hit drama Spring Court Evening on Lychee Video. My goddess Gu Qingfeng starred in it. It’s about a modern woman transmigrating into a palace intrigue novel as a concubine in the cold palace, fighting her way to become the Empress Dowager.”
Jiang Ciyi paused. “Haven’t seen it.”
But she added, “Sounds familiar, though.”
“Aaah!” Zheng Shuqing exploded. “Of course it sounds familiar! I’ve recommended it to you a million times. My goddess’s acting in Spring Court Evening was epic, especially when she assassinated the emperor—so thrilling! You don’t watch dramas, but you must’ve seen clips online. The internet’s huge—how could you miss my goddess’s iconic scenes?!”
Jiang Ciyi: “…You’re off-topic. Explain transmigration.”
“I did,” Zheng Shuqing said, pausing as she realized. “You didn’t actually believe me, did you? I was joking. Your Miss Cheng has always been impulsive and reckless. Maybe she’s had a change of heart and wants to be nice to you. Transmigration is just people’s imagination, a fun thought experiment.”
Jiang Ciyi, slightly disappointed, said, “Alright.”
Zheng Shuqing steered the conversation back, asking what kind of clothes Jiang Ciyi wanted, when they’d head out, and whether she wanted light or heavy makeup.
Jiang Ciyi answered each question and hung up.
But instead of getting ready, she opened the app store, downloaded Lychee Video, and searched for Spring Court Evening, starring Gu Qingfeng and Li Danruo.
Special appearance: Xu Zhaozhao.
Jiang Ciyi frowned, ignoring Xu Zhaozhao’s name, and added the drama to her watchlist.
Cheng Xing, after arranging everything, took her temperature: 37.5°C, a low fever.
She prepared cold medicine, took half a fever-reducing pill, turned on the bedroom AC to 28°C, and took a hot shower. By the time she came out, the room was warm.
Wrapped in a blanket, she fell asleep.
The cold medicine made her drowsy.
She slept straight through to the afternoon, skipping lunch.
When she woke, her vision was hazy, and she saw a figure.
Hoarsely, she called out, “Jiang Ciyi?”
“Yeah,” Jiang Ciyi replied. “Hold on.”
The next second, a needle pricked the back of Cheng Xing’s hand as an IV drip began flowing.
“I…” Cheng Xing’s throat was so dry it hurt to speak.
Jiang Ciyi adjusted the IV flow rate. “If your voice is hoarse, don’t talk.”
“You prepared the medicine?” Cheng Xing asked.
Jiang Ciyi paused. “The family doctor from the old residence came by. He prescribed it.”
The doctor had visited but left hurriedly after a call. Jiang Ciyi, returning from shopping with Zheng Shuqing, ran into him.
He instructed her to change Cheng Xing’s IV in an hour.
Jiang Ciyi could have left it to Sister Zhou, but Cheng Xing, thrashing in her sleep, dislodged the needle, causing bl00d to backflow. Jiang Ciyi removed the old needle and reinserted a new one.
Unfortunately, it woke her.
“Oh,” Cheng Xing mumbled, her eyelids heavy, not fully awake. “Done shopping?”
“Yeah,” Jiang Ciyi replied casually, sitting by the bed.
“What clothes did you get?” Cheng Xing asked.
Jiang Ciyi glanced at her. “Not sleepy anymore?”
“Sleepy,” Cheng Xing said, smiling faintly, her mind foggy. But she felt awkward letting Jiang Ciyi just sit there, so she tried to keep the conversation going.
Jiang Ciyi, however, wasn’t in the mood to chat. “If you’re sleepy, sleep.”
Cheng Xing chuckled. “Just wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk when you’re better,” Jiang Ciyi said, tucking the blanket around her. “Rest now.”
“Okay,” Cheng Xing smiled.
Later, half-asleep, she heard Jiang Ciyi ask, “Can I use your study?”
Cheng Xing nodded groggily. “Go ahead.”
She didn’t register anything else Jiang Ciyi said.
That night, Cheng Xing woke twice. Once, starving, she got up, and Sister Zhou was waiting with a bowl of porridge, which she devoured before returning to bed. The second time, at dawn, she struggled to the bathroom.
Otherwise, she was out cold.
The benefit of such intense sleep was that by noon the next day, her fever had broken, and she felt much better.
After waking, she did a set of Baduanjin exercises, sweated, showered, and changed. By lunchtime, she was presentable enough to sit with Jiang Ciyi.
The meal was full of her favorite dishes, and she ate happily, casually asking about Jiang Ciyi’s work schedule tomorrow and if she could see the clothes Jiang Ciyi bought.
Jiang Ciyi asked, “What, checking how much I spent?”
“No,” Cheng Xing laughed. “Just want to see how many pretty clothes you got.”
Jiang Ciyi pursed her lips. “Just one outfit.”
Cheng Xing’s face fell. “What? You should’ve gotten at least two suits, a couple of dresses, shoes, and maybe some accessories to match.”
Jiang Ciyi said lightly, “Didn’t see anything I liked.”
In truth, at the mall, everything started at six figures, and Jiang Ciyi felt uneasy spending Cheng Xing’s money.
Zheng Shuqing had urged her, saying it was only natural to spend Miss Cheng’s money since she was so rich—and it was Cheng Group’s money, not hers.
Zheng Shuqing, coming from a well-off family, didn’t understand Jiang Ciyi’s discomfort.
Jiang Ciyi couldn’t reciprocate with gifts of equal value, so accepting such expensive items felt like a burden, as if she owed Cheng Xing.
In the end, she bought a cheaper outfit but used Cheng Xing’s card to buy something for Zheng Shuqing.
That evening, Zheng Shuqing transferred the money back to her, adding extra and telling her to keep it and not give it to Cheng Xing.
Jiang Ciyi didn’t want to discuss this with Cheng Xing—it wasn’t necessary, and she genuinely disliked shopping for clothes.
For someone in a wheelchair, it was torture.
“Then the mall yesterday must’ve been subpar,” Cheng Xing said. “This afternoon, I’ll take you to a better one.”
Jiang Ciyi shook her head. “No need. I don’t want to buy anything.”
Cheng Xing paused mid-bite. “Jiang Ciyi, are you worried about owing me money?”
Jiang Ciyi turned away, her expression betraying her thoughts.
Cheng Xing set down her chopsticks, her voice soft and earnest. “You don’t need to pay me back. When you wear beautiful clothes and appear before me, I’m paying for my own emotional satisfaction, not for you.”
“So, how about I take you shopping for pretty clothes this afternoon?” Cheng Xing smiled gently. “You can help me pick some out too, and maybe come with me to dye my hair.”
Jiang Ciyi looked at her.
Cheng Xing touched her hair. “This color’s awful. I’ve wanted to change it for ages, but no one’s free to go with me. If you come, I’ll get you clothes. Fair trade, right?”
She paused, then added, “The renowned forensic expert Jiang from Jianggang Police Station spending her precious time to accompany me for a hair dye? One outfit doesn’t seem enough.”
Jiang Ciyi’s ears turned red at the teasing flattery, wanting to retort but hearing Cheng Xing continue, “Maybe a bag too.”