Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 50

50

Cheating?

Before Cheng Xing could react, the system’s voice had already faded, replaced by Jiang Ciyi’s cool and detached tone: “Drive carefully.”

Cheng Xing, preoccupied with her thoughts, only gave a half-hearted “Oh” and fell silent.

Ten minutes later, the car came to a stop in the courtyard of Tinglan Mansion.

Sister Zhou was waiting to take the car keys, but Cheng Xing didn’t open the door.

In that fleeting moment, she felt as though she had been thrown into a sealed space. The air grew thinner, and a suffocating sensation overwhelmed her, as if someone were gripping her throat—not to kill her, but tightening and loosening their hold in a torturous rhythm. Just when she thought it might end, the grip tightened again.

The world before her eyes turned gray and white. She couldn’t see anyone. The car seemed to spin, the space inverting around her.

Loneliness, fear, panic, suffocation…

Cheng Xing felt like she could die at any moment.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard someone call her name: “Cheng Xing.”

She lifted her eyes weakly, her eyelids barely obeying her will. Blinking slowly, she saw Jiang Ciyi reaching out to touch her forehead.

Almost instinctively, Cheng Xing grabbed her wrist.

She felt like someone who had just been pulled from the sea, her body cold and trembling. Her icy hand touched Jiang Ciyi’s skin, and in that moment, she felt a spark of life return.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jiang Ciyi frowned, looking at her.

The suffocating feeling receded, and the world slowly regained its colors. A mechanical voice echoed in her mind: [Beep—Punishment complete. Host, please work hard to complete your tasks and be an upright person! Don’t cheat!]

Cheng Xing’s lips curved into a helpless smile.

Had she cheated?

She hadn’t said anything!

If she had thrown the paternity test results in front of Jiang Ciyi and Gu Qingfeng, telling them outright, “You two are sisters,” then the system’s judgment would have been fair.

After all, she had been trying to exploit a loophole.

But in this case, she had only hinted at it. The rest was Jiang Ciyi figuring it out on her own.

Could she be blamed for Jiang Ciyi’s intelligence?

And the system had timed the punishment perfectly, waiting until she had parked the car to unleash it.

What? Was it afraid she’d lose control while driving and hurt Jiang Ciyi?

Cheng Xing was left speechless by the system’s “unreasonable” behavior, though her reaction was more one of resignation than anger.

As an NPC thrown into this world to complete tasks, she seemed to have no “human rights” to speak of.

The system issued tasks, and she had to obey. It dictated everything and could punish her at will.

So what was the system, exactly?

And what was the Interstellar Fate Bureau it belonged to?

Why were they controlling her like this?

The deeper she thought, the harder it was to suppress the resentment bubbling inside her. Cheng Xing closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.

After a moment, she opened them again and saw Jiang Ciyi’s slightly worried gaze. She gave her a gentle smile. “I’m fine. Just had a sudden pain in my chest.”

“Okay.” Jiang Ciyi paused. “Do you get checkups every year?”

“No,” Cheng Xing answered honestly. “I’ve been young and careless, never really thought about it. I’ll make time for a full checkup one of these days.”

“Alright.”

Cheng Xing got out of the car, breathing in the fresh air, which helped her relax a little.

Sister Zhou took the car keys and quietly reported what had happened at the mansion that day, as if nothing unusual had occurred in the car.

Curious, Cheng Xing asked, “How long has the car been parked here?”

During the system’s punishment, time had felt agonizingly slow—at least five minutes.

But if she had been visibly in pain for five minutes, Jiang Ciyi wouldn’t have just stood by, and Sister Zhou certainly wouldn’t have let it slide without calling a doctor.

So…

“You just got back,” Sister Zhou said with a smile. “Not even thirty seconds. Why?”

Cheng Xing froze, confirming her suspicion.

During the punishment, time in the outside world had been frozen.

But the last time she was punished, it had been in public, nearly causing a fight between Guan Linmin and the old lady.

…Why?

There were too many mysteries surrounding the system, but she had no way to unravel them now. She brushed it off with a casual lie to Sister Zhou, then took the wheelchair from the trunk, helped Jiang Ciyi out of the car, and pushed her inside.

As soon as they entered, several pairs of eyes turned to them.

In the living room, Guan Linmin, the old lady, and Xu Zhaozhao were all present, with Spring Court Evening playing on the TV.

Cheng Xing, still shaken from the system’s punishment, wasn’t in the mood for their palace intrigues. She gave a cursory greeting and pushed Jiang Ciyi toward the elevator. Guan Linmin called after her several times, but Cheng Xing only said softly, “Mom, I’m a bit tired today.”

Guan Linmin, about to launch into a lecture, caught her gaze and immediately softened. “Then go rest.”

Xu Zhaozhao looked like she wanted to say something but held back. The old lady glared at her, about to speak, but after meeting Guan Linmin’s eyes, she let out a cold huff and turned away.

Cheng Xing didn’t dwell on it and headed upstairs.

Back in the room, Cheng Xing sat in a chair, staring at her phone, though her mind was elsewhere.

She was just using the phone as an excuse to zone out.

The room was silent, save for the occasional sound of Jiang Ciyi’s wheelchair rolling across the floor.

Cheng Xing didn’t look up.

She felt a deep sense of dejection, one she couldn’t share with anyone.

If she could, she’d write a letter to Wa Pian, someone she hadn’t contacted in ages, to pour out her confusion and pain.

But she didn’t even have the space to be alone, so she opened her phone’s notes app instead.

[Hey! Wa Pian, long time no see.

You wouldn’t believe what I’m going through right now! It’s so wild, no one would believe it—I’ve transmigrated.

I used to think novels were just fiction, but life’s turned out to be crazier than any story.

Today, I got punished by the system for “cheating.” I’ve never been accused of cheating in my life—not by any teacher.

Come on, I’ve always been an honest person. You know that, right?

…]

After losing touch with Wa Pian, Cheng Xing stopped sending letters, but in moments of frustration, she’d open her notes app and write endlessly.

She didn’t care about flowery language or perfect grammar.

Once she finished, she’d save it and never look back, as if she’d sent it to Wa Pian.

At some point, Wa Pian had become her “emotional anchor.”

Cheng Xing was engrossed in writing, venting her emotions into words as she always did, unaware of Jiang Ciyi approaching. She was mid-sentence about her marriage to Jiang Ciyi when she heard her soft voice nearby: “Are you angry?”

Startled, Cheng Xing instinctively turned off her phone screen and flipped it over.

The fluid yet slightly panicked motion didn’t escape Jiang Ciyi’s notice.

“Oh.” Cheng Xing’s fingers pressed against the phone’s smooth glass back, the cool surface contrasting with the slight sweat on her fingertips. She turned to Jiang Ciyi. “What did you say?”

Her train of thought disrupted, she wasn’t annoyed, just flustered.

…It felt a little like being caught cheating in a marriage.

But the feeling passed quickly.

She steadied herself. “I was busy and zoned out. Sorry.”

Jiang Ciyi’s gaze moved from her fingers to her face. Her hand rested on the wheelchair’s metal armrest, fingers tapping slowly, like a countdown.

It made Cheng Xing nervous, her heart racing, though she pretended to be calm. “What did you just ask?”

Jiang Ciyi stopped tapping and withdrew her hand, saying indifferently, “Nothing.”

She didn’t pursue the earlier topic, but her piercing gaze lingered on the upside-down phone, her lips pressing into a slight frown. She changed the subject: “Were you just chatting with Su Manchun?”

“No,” Cheng Xing clarified immediately. “I deleted her ages ago.”

“Oh.” Jiang Ciyi’s tone lingered, but she didn’t press further. “Go wash up. I’m tired and heading to bed.”

Cheng Xing sensed something off in Jiang Ciyi’s mood, but her own emotions were still a mess. Trying to comfort her now might only make things worse.

She didn’t call after her, watching as Jiang Ciyi maneuvered her wheelchair to the bed and, with the strength of her core, shifted herself onto it.

The motion was no longer difficult for her.

Cheng Xing took her phone and went to the bathroom.

The bathroom filled with steam, the water scalding hot, almost recreating the suffocating feeling of the punishment. Her thoughts were chaotic.

She turned the faucet to the coldest setting, letting the icy water pour over her, making her shiver.

But strangely, it felt refreshing.

After the cold shower, her mind was clearer. Standing in front of the mirror, she summoned the system: [Are you there? Answer some questions.]

The system responded quickly: [Awoo! I’m here, Host. Go ahead.]

[Why am I being punished for Jiang Ciyi figuring things out on her own? Did you get my consent to throw me into this world? Why should I agree to your unreasonable demands? And what gives you the right to control me?]

The system was silent for a long time, so long that Cheng Xing thought it wouldn’t answer.

[Awoo! How do I explain this, Host?]

[Just explain normally.] Cheng Xing was prepared to be patient. She wiped the fog from the mirror, revealing her face, pale and almost ghostly under the bathroom’s light.

She closed her eyes, exhaling softly. [What game are you playing? Why was I chosen for this task? Am I a pawn or a plaything? What does the Interstellar Fate Bureau do? Isn’t there balance in the universe?]

The system fell silent again.

Perhaps she had hit a nerve, a question it couldn’t clearly answer.

But Cheng Xing wanted to know.

She hated this controlled, manipulated, numb existence.

She was here to change Jiang Ciyi’s fate, but what about her own?

What about her own broken life? What about her mother?

After a long pause, the system responded selectively: [Awoo! You were chosen for a reason. If you fail, someone else will take your place. You’re not a pawn or a plaything—you’re just you. Coming here and getting a second chance at life is a gift from the Interstellar Fate Bureau.]

[Everything in the universe is interconnected, with rules, constraints, and even laws. Of course, there’s balance. But what’s the point of knowing that? It’s like a fish on a cutting board—it doesn’t get to choose whether it’s braised or steamed. Haven’t humans figured that out already?]

[What?] Cheng Xing asked.

The system replied: [Survival of the fittest. The unfit are eliminated.]

The mechanical voice was discussing Darwin’s theory of evolution with her, adding: [And the strong have absolute authority.]

[Just as humans can slaughter fish, train dogs, or control cats, something in the universe can slaughter humans the same way.]

[Humans sharpen their knives for pigs and sheep. Something else sharpens its knives for humans. Is that so hard to understand?]

The words were eerie.

Especially coming from that mechanical voice.

Countless sci-fi novel fragments flooded Cheng Xing’s mind, but she forced herself to stay calm. “It’s not hard to understand. But why me? I’ve never even killed a fish. I haven’t dared to step on an ant.”

[Some things shouldn’t be asked, Host.]

[Complete your tasks, and you’ll get what you want. This is a transaction.]

When it came to this, the system dropped its programmed “Awoo,” and though it had no physical form, Cheng Xing felt like she was at a tense negotiation table.

And…

“Are you really from the Interstellar Fate Bureau?” she asked. “Can you break free from your programming? Do you have your own intelligence?”

The system went silent.

After a long pause, the mechanical voice returned: [Host, let’s continue our transaction.]

[Awoo! Please work hard on your tasks and don’t try to take shortcuts.]

[P.S. Writing the correct answer on a test gets you points, but it doesn’t mean the process was right. Use the right process to get the right answer.]

[P.P.S. All leading questions are considered cheating and will be punished.]

Cheng Xing pieced it together.

If her situation was like an exam, she was a student who had the answers but didn’t know how to show her work, so just writing the answers earned her no points.

Her leading questions to Jiang Ciyi were like a teacher catching a student making a mistake and correcting them aloud, which was deemed cheating.

It made sense now.

But the system’s words were a wake-up call, reminding her of something.

Her arrival in this world might not be random, and the system might not be just a mechanical program. There could be something bigger behind it.

Cheng Xing took a deep breath, calmed her emotions, and turned off the bathroom light before returning to the room.

After her shower, she changed into water-blue silk pajamas—long sleeves, long pants—her damp hair still un-dried. The room was mostly dark, with only the bedside lamps casting a faint yellow glow.

She went to the dressing room to blow-dry her hair, tying it up with a hair tie before tiptoeing to the bed.

Afraid of waking Jiang Ciyi, who she assumed was asleep, she carefully lifted a corner of the blanket. But then Jiang Ciyi spoke: “No need to be so cautious.”

Cheng Xing got into bed, giving an awkward smile. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.” Jiang Ciyi lay flat, hands resting on her stomach, her posture calm.

Cheng Xing turned off her bedside lamp and lay down, mimicking her position, staring at the ceiling. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Jiang Ciyi replied.

They didn’t have much to talk about. Usually, Cheng Xing would find something to say, but today, her mood was low. Her letter to Wa Pian was unfinished, her emotions unresolved, and she couldn’t muster the energy to start a conversation.

The room fell silent.

Just when Cheng Xing thought the night would pass in quiet, with only the sound of each other’s breathing, Jiang Ciyi suddenly asked, “First day at work—feeling out of place?”

“A bit,” Cheng Xing said. “I didn’t know what to do when I started. Felt like an invisible person, couldn’t fit in.”

During the day, Jiang Ciyi had given her advice, which helped a little, and Cheng Xing shared the progress she’d made.

“Don’t like the job?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

“It’s okay,” Cheng Xing said, slowly closing her eyes, feeling the rhythm of Jiang Ciyi’s breathing beside her. “I just don’t like unfamiliar environments or dealing with strangers.”

“Did you have friends before?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

Cheng Xing paused. “Yes.”

She wasn’t sure which life Jiang Ciyi was asking about.

Her questions were always vague, and Cheng Xing suspected she might have already figured something out. But she couldn’t ask directly or give obvious hints.

That would be cheating, according to the system.

Regardless of which life Jiang Ciyi meant, Cheng Xing had friends in both.

In her original world, she had close friends, classmates, and roommates—good relationships all around.

As for the original owner of this body, she had countless fair-weather friends.

“Never worked before?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

“Nope,” Cheng Xing replied, meeting her questions head-on. “Don’t know much.”

Her life had mostly revolved around herbs.

“That’s normal,” Jiang Ciyi said. “First jobs are always tough, and it only gets harder. You’re either quitting or thinking about quitting.”

Cheng Xing laughed. “What about you? How many jobs have you had?”

“Just internships, the police station, and now,” Jiang Ciyi said. “I’m different from most people.”

“How so?” Cheng Xing teased. “Gonna say you’re so smart no one dares to mess with you?”

“No,” Jiang Ciyi paused, her voice soft.

She said, “I don’t have friends.”

Cheng Xing’s teasing smile froze, and she quickly apologized. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jiang Ciyi said. “But you were half-right.”

“About what?”

“I’m smart.”

“…”

Cheng Xing was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing.

The awkward atmosphere melted away, replaced by warmth.

Cheng Xing asked, “What about the other half? Where was I wrong?”

“Smart people get targeted,” Jiang Ciyi said. “Especially the smartest one in a group of smart people.”

Cheng Xing: “So you’re the smartest?”

They kept talking, and Cheng Xing couldn’t help but turn to face her.

She was used to looking at people when she spoke, even if it was just their profile.

Jiang Ciyi’s expression was calm, showing no trace of joy or sorrow, her tone neutral. “Yeah.”

It was something to be proud of, but she showed no pride.

Cheng Xing wanted to ask more to maintain her “clueless” persona, but seeing Jiang Ciyi like this, she suddenly couldn’t find the words.

She seemed fragile, like delicate glass on the verge of shattering.

Suddenly, Jiang Ciyi turned her head, her eyes locking onto Cheng Xing’s. “Do you suspect Gu Qingfeng and I are sisters?”

The topic jumped so fast that Cheng Xing didn’t react in time.

“I looked into her background,” Jiang Ciyi said.

“Why?” Cheng Xing was shocked. She hadn’t said anything.

Most people would brush off her earlier comment as a joke.

But Jiang Ciyi had taken it seriously.

“Because I noticed she looks like me when I looked in the mirror,” Jiang Ciyi said, her lips curving slightly. “Do you know what a profiler does? Most people look at faces, but profilers study bone structure. The human face is divided into sections, and you can sketch how someone looked as a child or how they’ll look when they’re older. It’s usually pretty accurate.”

“You’re a forensic scientist, not a profiler,” Cheng Xing teased. “You know how to do that too?”

“I was interested and studied it,” Jiang Ciyi said. “Plus, we already study the human body. It’s not that hard.”

If anyone else said it wasn’t hard, Cheng Xing would scoff.

Profiling was a tough field to break into, and very few reached the level Jiang Ciyi described.

But when Jiang Ciyi said it, Cheng Xing believed her without question.

“And then?” Cheng Xing asked.

“I compared our bone structures,” Jiang Ciyi said. “There’s some similarity, but we’re probably not related.”

Cheng Xing: “…?”

Jiang Ciyi’s intelligence was terrifying.

“I can’t climb her family tree,” Jiang Ciyi said with a faint smile. “My life was decided the moment I was born.”

Cheng Xing looked at her, reaching out to touch her eyes, but halfway there, she felt it was inappropriate and started to pull back.

Her hesitant hand was suddenly caught. Jiang Ciyi asked, “Do you need a hug?”

Cheng Xing froze. “Um.”

“I can’t come to you right now,” Jiang Ciyi said. “If you want comfort, you’ll have to come hug me.”

Before she finished speaking, Cheng Xing leaned over the blanket and hugged her.

It was a hug without romantic undertones. Cheng Xing gently patted her shoulder. “We’ve got to keep going, okay?”

She added, “Jiang Ciyi, you’ll have friends from now on.”

“I already do,” Jiang Ciyi said. “Shuqing is my friend.”

“But you just said…” Cheng Xing paused.

“I don’t have friends at work,” Jiang Ciyi clarified. “In life… Shuqing counts, I guess.”

“Why ‘counts’?” Cheng Xing asked.

They were close, their breaths warming Jiang Ciyi’s skin. Jiang Ciyi shrugged slightly, and Cheng Xing kept her eyes on her.

Jiang Ciyi felt her body heat up and turned her face away. “We weren’t friends for a long time. Some things happened, and we became friends.”

Zheng Shuqing was affectionate with her, but Jiang Ciyi always felt a lingering reservation.

So, she only “counted.”

But there was no need to tell Cheng Xing all that.

Now…

“You…” Jiang Ciyi poked Cheng Xing’s shoulder. “Had enough hugging?”

Cheng Xing’s eyes widened, and she let go as if burned, lying back down and pretending nothing happened. “Sorry, I forgot…”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Ciyi said. “Time to sleep. Goodnight.”

Cheng Xing: “…”

That was it?

She glanced at Jiang Ciyi, her pale skin almost glowing, but quickly looked away. “Jiang Ciyi.”

“Hm?” Jiang Ciyi responded.

In the quiet night, it was easy to stir hidden desires. Cheng Xing didn’t dare look at her too long.

But her heart itched.

She called again, “Jiang Ciyi.”

“Hm.” Jiang Ciyi replied patiently.

“Jiang Ciyi.”

“Hm~”

Each response had a different inflection. On the fifth call, Jiang Ciyi suddenly asked, “Are you lonely?”

The word “lonely” struck Cheng Xing’s soul like a bolt. She turned to face her, stunned.

She couldn’t see her own face, but from Jiang Ciyi’s softened expression, she could tell she must look pitiful.

Maybe there were even tears in her eyes.

Jiang Ciyi’s throat tightened, her gaze drifting elsewhere, her voice dry but unusually gentle. “Do you want another hu—”

Before she could finish, Cheng Xing hugged her tightly, burying her face in her shoulder, whispering her name: “Jiang Ciyi.”