Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 49
49
After realizing this, Cheng Xing quickly scrolled to the end credits to find the actor’s name—Gu Qingfeng.
The surname Gu.
That made sense.
In the novel, the Gu and Shen families were extremely secretive entities. Many people didn’t even know the surnames of Jianggang’s most powerful families. Their mystique only made them more intimidating.
Yet, unexpectedly, Gu Qingfeng was openly using her real name in the entertainment industry, and at such a young age, she had already become the youngest actress to achieve a grand slam of awards.
There were no fools in the Gu family.
However, Cheng Xing didn’t know much about these people.
Although she had read the novel, the system only emphasized transmitting information relevant to her, glossing over everything else.
The focus was primarily on the melodramatic love triangle involving the original host, Jiang Ciyi, and Shen Qingxue.
The original host was responsible for the torment, while Jiang Ciyi and Shen Qingxue were entangled in a deep, passionate romance.
The sizzling sound of meat on the grill, now golden and fragrant, failed to capture Cheng Xing’s attention.
She was already plotting how to arrange for Gu Qingfeng and Jiang Ciyi to recognize each other.
If the two could reunite and Jiang Ciyi was acknowledged by the Gu family, the task assigned by the system would surely be completed in the fastest way possible.
But convincing Jiang Ciyi with just her word was impossible—she needed solid evidence.
And what better evidence was there than a DNA test?
Cheng Xing launched into a mental brainstorming session, meticulously planning every step. She would return home tonight, grab some of Jiang Ciyi’s hair from her pillow, and then orchestrate a meeting with Gu Qingfeng to collect something she’d used—like a water glass—for a DNA comparison.
As she was deep in thought, a server nearby asked, “Miss, do you need help with this?”
Cheng Xing snapped back to reality, only to notice that the meat on the grill had completely charred.
But having resolved a major issue, she was in high spirits and didn’t mind. “No need. Throw these out and bring a new sheet of grill paper. I’ll start over.”
The service at the barbecue restaurant was decent, but Cheng Xing preferred to grill slowly on her own.
As dinnertime approached, the restaurant grew busier.
When Cheng Xing was about eighty percent full, her movements slowed. She reopened Spring Court Evening and saw Gu Qingfeng again, unable to suppress a smile. Even when a server came to replace the grill paper and noticed her watching the drama, they couldn’t help but rave about Gu Qingfeng’s stunning performance and the clever writing of Spring Court Evening.
Cheng Xing accepted the recommendation with a smile and casually continued watching.
Soon after, two people sat at the table next to hers. At first, Cheng Xing didn’t pay attention, engrossed in the drama. But when she looked up to stretch her neck after watching for too long, she spotted someone who had just appeared on her screen.
It was the actress who played a princess in Spring Court Evening. Though her role was small, her youthful face and emotional crying scenes, combined with solid acting, left an impression—especially since Cheng Xing had just watched that part. Seeing her in modern clothing felt like a surreal crossover.
Cheng Xing didn’t dare stare too long. Pretending to be calm, she turned back to her phone, replaying the scene while stealing glances at the person next to her.
The actress’s on-screen and off-screen personas were quite different. In the drama, she was a spoiled, arrogant princess; in real life, with bangs and long black hair cascading over her shoulders, dressed in a soft pink-and-white skirt, she spoke in a gentle, delicate voice—an obvious good girl.
Cheng Xing returned her focus to her phone.
“You’re going to that dinner whether you like it or not,” a gruff male voice came from the next table. “This is a rare opportunity I fought for you. Don’t talk about just having a few drinks—if it means sleeping with someone, you’ll do it.”
Cheng Xing’s ears perked up, her brows slightly furrowing.
…Was she about to witness the infamous “unspoken rules” of the entertainment industry?
The actress softly replied, “I don’t want to go.”
“Don’t want to go? Do you still want to act? Do you still want to survive in this industry?” the man said. “Don’t think that just because you’ve latched onto that big shot, you’re set. To her, you’re just a disposable plaything—tossed aside when she’s done with you. If you don’t rely on yourself, who else can you rely on? Does she give you resources?”
The actress fell silent.
The man continued, earnestly persuading, “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. For you, the priority is getting money to treat your mom’s illness. Waiting for her? Your mom will be long gone. Ah Zhi, that woman has a fiancée—she’ll never marry you. You know that, right?”
The girl, addressed as Ah Zhi, kept her head down and stayed quiet.
Cheng Xing had finished watching an episode and scanned the end credits twice before finding the name of the actress who played the little princess: Ji Xianzhi.
A beautiful name. Cheng Xing casually followed her on Weibo.
She was signed to a small company, rarely active online, and had played many roles—mostly minor ones, including plenty of corpse roles.
Her Weibo had 150,000 followers, with 149,000 of them being bots.
Cheng Xing had no intention of meddling in this matter. After overhearing a few sentences, she reopened her phone but found she couldn’t focus on the drama anymore.
After all, seeing the same face on-screen and in real life created a jarring sense of disconnection.
She switched to another drama.
The meat on the grill started to smell burnt again. Frowning, she picked up the charred pieces and tossed them into the trash, then set down her tongs and poured herself a drink, ready to wrap up her solo dinner.
A busy server approached and asked if she needed the remaining meat grilled. Cheng Xing shook her head and asked for the bill, only for the server to point to the counter at the entrance. “You pay there.”
Cheng Xing asked her to pack up the leftover ingredients.
The portions at the barbecue restaurant were generous, and there was still plenty left.
While the server packed her food, Cheng Xing grabbed her phone and headed to the restroom to wash her hands.
Oil had splattered on the sleeve of her white shirt. She looked down, debating whether to clean it now or deal with it at home, when a pale hand suddenly extended toward her. A soft voice said, “Use this.”
It was a small black bottle, like a perfume sample, labeled “detergent.”
Cheng Xing turned and met a pair of doe-like eyes.
It was Ji Xianzhi, the girl from the next table.
But the moment their eyes met, Ji Xianzhi’s breath hitched, her eyes darting nervously as if she recognized Cheng Xing.
Cheng Xing looked down, pretending to be nonchalant, and squeezed a pump of detergent onto her sleeve. “Do we know each other?”
They shouldn’t have any connection.
If someone had interacted with the original host, their details would typically flash into Cheng Xing’s mind when they got close.
But standing this close to Ji Xianzhi, no such information appeared.
Yet Ji Xianzhi’s expression…
“No… we don’t know each other,” Ji Xianzhi said, turning on the faucet beside her. The sound of running water filled the restroom.
It masked her unsteady breathing.
Cheng Xing handed back the used detergent, her sleeve now damp. She thanked her.
“Oh… it’s… it’s fine.” Ji Xianzhi stammered, avoiding eye contact.
“Are you sure we don’t know each other?” Cheng Xing casually rolled up her wet sleeve, folding it neatly to hide the dampness.
“No…” Ji Xianzhi kept her head down, looking like she’d been bullied.
Seeing her like this, Cheng Xing didn’t press further and smiled. “But you look familiar, miss. Didn’t you play Princess Luyao in Spring Court Evening? Your acting was great.”
Ji Xianzhi’s head snapped up, staring at Cheng Xing in shock.
Cheng Xing’s mind raced with possibilities, but she kept her tone gentle and teasing. “Just kidding. I’m watching the drama right now and I’m a fan of your role. How about an autograph?”
Ji Xianzhi’s throat tightened, and she swallowed hard. “Where should I sign?”
Cheng Xing only had her phone, so she opened the notes app, switched to handwriting mode, and handed it over horizontally. “A digital autograph.”
Without hesitation, Ji Xianzhi signed.
The signature took up half the screen, looking like something a naive girl would do. Cheng Xing smiled and asked her to add, “To Cheng Xing,” below it.
Ji Xianzhi was very obedient, doing exactly as Cheng Xing asked without questioning why.
She seemed almost afraid of her.
“Do you know why I asked you to write that last part?” Cheng Xing said, looking at Ji Xianzhi, who was trembling slightly. “Don’t sign blank spaces or digital autographs so easily. They can be misused.”
Ji Xianzhi let out a small “oh” and gave a dry smile. “I’m not some big star. Who’d want my autograph?”
“You will be someday,” Cheng Xing encouraged. “Who knows, you might become a household name.”
Ji Xianzhi pressed her lips together, not responding.
The atmosphere grew awkward, and Cheng Xing turned to leave. As she did, she heard Ji Xianzhi’s voice: “Um… thank you.”
At the counter, Cheng Xing paid and glanced back at her table. Ji Xianzhi was still being lectured by the man across from her.
They were too far away now for Cheng Xing to hear what they were saying.
She still suspected there was some connection between her and Ji Xianzhi, but she had no way to confirm it.
So she let it go.
After leaving the restaurant, Cheng Xing started typing a message to Jiang Ciyi, asking when her team-building event would end. But halfway through, she felt like she was acting like an anxious partner checking up on someone, which might ruin Jiang Ciyi’s mood.
She put her phone away, deciding to wait patiently.
But waiting was boring—she didn’t know where to go or what to do.
Nor did she know how long she’d have to wait.
So, standing by the roadside, Cheng Xing continued researching Gu Qingfeng, trying to dig up more about the Gu family from publicly available information.
But Gu Qingfeng had hidden her background well.
All the public information listed her acting roles and awards since her debut, without even mentioning her agency.
As people passed by on the busy street, Cheng Xing was about to get into her car when she heard that familiar gruff voice again: “Mr. Wang is giving you a chance tonight. Don’t be ungrateful. Just say a few nice words when you get there.”
“I’m not going,” Ji Xianzhi replied, her head down, voice muffled.
“Ji Xianzhi!” the man snapped. “Do you really think that Miss Shen can protect you forever? Has she ever given you a single resource? Every role you’ve gotten has come through me. Without me, do you think you’d achieve anything better? You can kiss your acting career goodbye.”
Ji Xianzhi looked up, her misty eyes meeting Cheng Xing’s curious gaze. She flinched, quickly looking away before responding to the man. “It’s not about her. I just don’t want to go.”
“Don’t want to go?!” The man’s voice grew louder, as if he wanted the whole world to hear Ji Xianzhi’s defiance. “What about your mom’s illness? You think you’re some big shot like Gu Qingfeng just because you worked with her on one project?”
“No,” Ji Xianzhi said, frowning. “Mr. Wang’s reputation…”
“Bad reputation? With me there, what can he do to you?” the man said. “Besides, Ji Xianzhi, a girl like you should feel lucky to catch Mr. Wang’s eye. Every woman who’s been with him has shot to stardom.”
He sneered in Cantonese, “In an era where people laugh at poverty, not prostitution, what are you holding onto? What can you achieve?”
Ji Xianzhi lifted her head slightly, a tear falling, but she stubbornly shook her head. “I’m not going.”
“Then what? Mr. Wang specifically asked for you tonight.” The man lit a cigarette, deliberately blowing smoke toward her face, making her cough. He grinned mischievously. “So, do I have to drag you there, or will you give me some face…”
“Hey,” Cheng Xing interrupted, unable to hold back as she walked over.
She hadn’t planned to get involved, but Ji Xianzhi’s pleading glances kept drawing her in, as if begging for rescue.
Cheng Xing thought to herself that if someone couldn’t save themselves, no amount of help from others would matter.
But Ji Xianzhi’s eyes kept meeting hers, again and again, and Cheng Xing’s heart softened.
…Everyone has their struggles.
She approached and got a clear look at the man—bearded, with medium-length hair, a bit of an artistic vibe, though his face didn’t match his rough voice.
Seeing her, he waved impatiently, the cigarette butt in his hand scattering ash into the air, acrid and choking.
“What’s it to you?” he barked. “Get lost.”
“Unfortunately,” Cheng Xing said coolly, “I know this lady. I’m taking her with me today. If your Mr. Wang has a problem, tell him to find Miss Cheng at Tinglan Mansion.”
Calmly delivering her line, she turned to Ji Xianzhi. “Let’s go.”
Ji Xianzhi pressed her lips together and nodded. “Thank you, Miss Cheng.”
The man froze for a few seconds, then realized what Tinglan Mansion and the surname Cheng implied. He didn’t dare stop her.
Cheng Xing wasn’t playing the hero. When they reached her car, she slipped her hands into her pockets and said coldly, “Miss Ji, I can help you this once, but I can’t help you forever. In this industry, you’ll need to stand on your own, or you’ll always be treated like an object to be passed around.”
Ji Xianzhi lowered her head and mumbled, “Mm.”
Cheng Xing wasn’t sure if she’d listened, but she’d said her piece.
“Go home,” Cheng Xing said. “I have things to do.”
Ji Xianzhi stood there, hesitating, stealing glances at her.
Cheng Xing caught her looks out of the corner of her eye but said nothing.
Anyone could see there was something between Ji Xianzhi and her, but since Ji Xianzhi wasn’t talking, Cheng Xing had no clue.
She had no impression of Ji Xianzhi beyond her role in the drama.
Tonight, Cheng Xing had done her part and wasn’t going to lecture her further.
Everyone makes their own choices.
Even if Ji Xianzhi chose to attend those dinners or meet this or that big shot in the future, it was none of her business.
They were just strangers who’d crossed paths.
“Thank you,” Ji Xianzhi said, her voice muffled. “Miss Cheng, I’m sorry.”
With that, she turned and ran off.
Cheng Xing watched her disappear around the corner before looking away.
For Cheng Xing, this was just a minor episode during dinner.
But for Ji Xianzhi, it was a rollercoaster that nearly stopped her heart.
She ran all the way to the bus stop, panting, and tied the scarf from her arm around her neck, tucking her chin into it to calm her racing heart.
She’d been nervous ever since spotting Cheng Xing in the restroom, never expecting the supposedly bad-tempered and difficult Miss Cheng to come to her rescue.
When the bus arrived, Ji Xianzhi swiped her card and took a window seat. As the bus passed the street where she’d been, she saw Cheng Xing still standing by the roadside, looking at her phone.
Ji Xianzhi quickly averted her gaze, like a thief caught in the act.
Thankfully… Cheng Xing didn’t know that she was the one who had framed her wife at that banquet.
Her heart still racing, Ji Xianzhi’s phone suddenly rang. She glanced at the caller ID, her hands trembling, and the phone slipped from her grasp, rolling across the floor.
A kind stranger picked it up and handed it back, but the moment it reached her, the ringing stopped.
Ji Xianzhi’s fear deepened. Trembling, she called back, but no one answered, as if they were punishing her.
Seconds later, she sent a text: [Are you looking for me?]
The bus stopped at one station after another. At the third stop, she received a reply: [Get off.]
She pushed through the crowd to exit from the back door and spotted a white Rolls-Royce parked by the roadside.
The familiar license plate made her heart skip, but she quickly steadied herself, rubbing her face to force a smile before walking toward the car at a measured pace.
But as she approached, the car started and drove past, kicking up a gust of hot air.
Her phone screen lit up with a new message: [Run after it.]
Ji Xianzhi felt like a toy, reluctant but too scared to disobey.
After all, who in Jianggang dared to defy Miss Shen?
Her palms bore the marks of her own nails as she fought back tears and started running along the roadside.
Inside the white Rolls-Royce, the woman in the back seat watched Ji Xianzhi frantically chasing after the car in the rearview mirror, her expression blank. She sent another message: [Faster. Didn’t eat dinner tonight?]
Ji Xianzhi bit her lip, reading the message, and ran with all her might.
But every time she got close, the car moved forward a few hundred meters.
She could only chase again and again.
Exhausted and unwilling to keep running, she stopped, only to receive another message: [Run, Zhi Zhi.]
Tears welled in Ji Xianzhi’s eyes. She’d grown up relying on her sick mother, who was never truly there for her. She thought hard work would lead to a better life, but then she met Miss Shen before even graduating.
Ji Xianzhi was exhausted.
She felt close to collapsing.
She didn’t want to keep chasing, treated like a plaything.
But…
She looked up at the car, so close yet so far.
Just like her and Miss Shen.
Her phone buzzed again.
[Zhi Zhi, don’t make me say it twice.]
Gritting her teeth, Ji Xianzhi ran again. This time, the car didn’t move. The window slowly rolled down, and she saw Miss Shen smiling calmly. “Zhi Zhi.”
Though Miss Shen’s voice was gentle, Ji Xianzhi shivered and instinctively stepped back.
Shen Qingxue’s smile vanished, her chin lifting slightly. “Get in.”
Ji Xianzhi walked to the other side, opened the door, and got in. The car’s temperature was comfortable, but she was burning from running, sweat beading on her forehead. She didn’t dare wipe it.
In Miss Shen’s presence, she didn’t belong to herself.
Shen Qingxue glanced at her and suddenly reached out, pinching her chin. “Zhi Zhi, who did you see tonight?”
Ji Xianzhi sat ramrod straight, her voice barely a whisper. “Mr. Ke.”
After answering, she stole a glance at Shen Qingxue, recalling Cheng Xing’s words: In this industry, you’ll need to stand on your own, or you’ll always be treated like an object to be passed around.
Stand on her own?
How could she?
She was tired of living in fear around Miss Shen while scraping by under others’ scrutiny.
Miss Shen was so powerful.
So why… why couldn’t she rely solely on her?
Ji Xianzhi clenched her fists, her cheeks flushed, her doe-like eyes looking innocently at Shen Qingxue. “Doesn’t Miss Shen know everything I do? Why else would you punish me?”
She had never dared to speak to Miss Shen like this.
From the moment they met, she knew Miss Shen was a woman who tolerated no defiance—obedience was enough.
She didn’t know if Miss Shen would grow tired of her or punish her.
As Ji Xianzhi trembled with anxiety, Shen Qingxue suddenly laughed. Her cool fingers brushed Ji Xianzhi’s flushed cheek, like ice on fire.
The spark in Ji Xianzhi was doused, and she was about to apologize when Shen Qingxue said, “Zhi Zhi, you’re getting more interesting.”
Ji Xianzhi told her about meeting Cheng Xing outside the restaurant and how she’d helped her out of a tough spot. But Shen Qingxue’s grip on her chin tightened, as if she might crush her bones.
Ji Xianzhi looked at her with a mix of defiance and fear, terrified that Shen Qingxue might actually kill her.
After all, what couldn’t the infamous Miss Shen do?
No matter what she did, the powerful Shen family would clean up her messes.
Ji Xianzhi didn’t dare resist, defying her survival instincts. When Shen Qingxue finally let go, Ji Xianzhi’s chin burned with pain, as if she’d just escaped death.
Then Shen Qingxue said lightly, “Zhi Zhi, don’t think about escaping me.”
“Even if you like her, it’s not allowed,” she added.
Ji Xianzhi protested, “Miss Cheng has a wife—have you forgotten?”
Shen Qingxue looked at her. “So what? If my Zhi Zhi wants her, I’ll take her for you, married or not.”
Ji Xianzhi stared, stammering, “B-but…”
“But people are off-limits,” Shen Qingxue said. “Zhi Zhi, you can only like me.”
Ji Xianzhi exhaled in relief.
Then Shen Qingxue smirked. “But her wife is quite pretty, suits my taste. Should I take her for fun, Zhi Zhi?”
Ji Xianzhi never doubted Shen Qingxue’s words.
From the day they met, she knew Miss Shen was unhinged.
The poised, gracious facade she showed the world was a lie—she was a complete lunatic.
She was capable of anything.
Ji Xianzhi grabbed her arm, her eyes pleading. “Isn’t… isn’t having me enough?”
“Zhi Zhi,” Shen Qingxue said, gently stroking her arm. “If you behave, I won’t replace you.”
Ji Xianzhi’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, trembling like a fragile willow in the wind.
Shen Qingxue loved seeing her look bullied and continued to tease maliciously. “But Zhi Zhi, if my kite wants to fly, I won’t cut the string.”
“Mm.” Ji Xianzhi murmured.
The car drove through Jianggang’s bustling main street, the vibrant night unfolding around them. Shen Qingxue did nothing, yet still managed to make Ji Xianzhi tremble with fear.
Just like their first meeting.
Even so, Ji Xianzhi had chosen to stay by her side.
Back then, she’d been given a choice.
Miss Shen had given her that choice.
Leisurely, Shen Qingxue asked, “Zhi Zhi, do you understand?”
“You’d destroy the kite,” Ji Xianzhi said calmly. “Tear off its frame, rip its fabric, and burn it to ashes.”
Shen Qingxue paused, then laughed.
Ji Xianzhi’s words pleased her. Lowering her voice, she said, “Zhi Zhi, come kiss me.”
Ji Xianzhi leaned in. In the dim back seat, with occasional streetlights flickering through, she placed a fleeting kiss on Shen Qingxue’s lips.
But as she pulled back, a force yanked her forward, pinning her against the leather seat.
Though not short, Ji Xianzhi felt small next to Shen Qingxue.
Curled up in the back seat, Shen Qingxue’s hand cushioned her head as aggressive kisses rained down.
Mindful of the driver, Ji Xianzhi tried to stay silent, but Shen Qingxue deliberately provoked her, slipping a hand under her skirt and whispering in her ear, “Zhi Zhi, I want to hear you.”
What she wanted to hear was obvious.
Ji Xianzhi shook her head, pleading, but Shen Qingxue’s movements grew more intense. Ji Xianzhi arched her neck, clutching Shen Qingxue’s shoulders. Shen Qingxue knelt beside her leg, her tone threatening. “Zhi Zhi.”
“Mmph~” Ji Xianzhi buried her face in Shen Qingxue’s shoulder, a sound escaping.
The car stopped in the underground parking garage. Shen Qingxue wiped her fingers one by one with a wet wipe. Ji Xianzhi sat with her legs together, drained, as if she’d been soaked in water.
In Miss Shen’s presence, she had no resistance.
Shen Qingxue got out first. Ji Xianzhi struggled to follow, but as the door opened, Shen Qingxue stood before her and scooped her up in a princess carry.
Ji Xianzhi didn’t dare wrap her arms around Shen Qingxue’s neck outside of that context, but then Shen Qingxue said softly, “Hold tight.”
Ji Xianzhi immediately clung to her, burying her face in her chest.
She felt like Miss Shen was in a good mood today.
So maybe…
In the elevator, Ji Xianzhi asked softly, “Could… could you get me a role in Lanhai Promise? Not the lead—second or third female lead is fine. I promise I won’t mess it up. My acting’s decent, really!”
Shen Qingxue glanced down at her, smirking. “If Zhi Zhi wants it, it’s hers.”
At 9:30 p.m., Cheng Xing received a message from Jiang Ciyi, asking if she was still out or already home, ready to take a cab back.
Cheng Xing told her to send her location.
Jiang Ciyi’s team-building event was nearby, just a ten-minute drive.
When Cheng Xing arrived, Jiang Ciyi and her colleagues were just leaving the venue. Xu Congshi offered to push Jiang Ciyi’s wheelchair, but she declined.
Cheng Xing parked with her hazards on, got out, greeted Xu Congshi, and waved to the other colleagues. She looked scholarly, with no strong smell of alcohol—likely hadn’t drunk much.
To build rapport, Cheng Xing promised to treat the colleagues to dinner another day or invite them to her place when they had time, exchanging plenty of pleasantries.
Afterward, she pushed Jiang Ciyi to the car.
The heater was on, perfect for Jianggang’s cooling weather.
Cheng Xing asked about Jiang Ciyi’s workday. Jiang Ciyi answered lazily, sounding low-energy.
Seeing her lack of spirit, Cheng Xing asked a few more questions but then stopped.
As they neared Tinglan Mansion, Cheng Xing said softly, “If you found out you had other family, what would you do?”
The sudden question caught Jiang Ciyi off guard. “What?”
“I mean, if your current father isn’t your real father, and you have other relatives, could you accept that?” Cheng Xing was laying the groundwork.
“Then what?” Jiang Ciyi asked.
Cheng Xing froze. “What?”
Now it was Cheng Xing’s turn to be confused.
Jiang Ciyi’s thinking was too erratic for her to keep up. Then Jiang Ciyi asked, “You’re not about to say Gu Qingfeng is my family, are you?”
Cheng Xing: “…?”
Was Jiang Ciyi the one with the script, not her?
Immediately, a mechanical system voice sounded in her mind: [Beep—Warning! Host detected engaging in cheating behavior. Due to the severity, a Level 3 pain penalty will be administered in ten minutes.]