Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 58
58
A flimsy excuse.
Gu Qingfeng didn’t call it out, her gaze sweeping over Jiang Ciyi and Cheng Xing before moving her phone toward Cheng Xing. “What about you, Miss Cheng?”
Cheng Xing scanned the code to add her, providing a remark as well.
Having obtained one person’s WeChat, it was getting late—hardly the time for small talk. Gu Qingfeng left Tinglan Mansion with her assistant.
But before departing, she said subtly to Jiang Ciyi, “Miss Jiang, if you ever need my help in the future, feel free to contact me.”
And she handed Jiang Ciyi a business card.
Perhaps it was Cheng Xing’s imagination, but when Gu Qingfeng said those words, she seemed to cast a discreet glance her way.
It felt as if… she thought Cheng Xing might harm Jiang Ciyi.
In the RV leaving Tinglan Mansion, the assistant couldn’t help but speak up. “Sis, what you did today…”
She glanced at Gu Qingfeng several times, hesitant to be too blunt, and stopped mid-sentence.
Without lifting her eyes, Gu Qingfeng let out a faint “Hmm,” her tone rising slightly at the end.
The assistant, recalling the manager’s earnest warnings, mustered her courage and said, “It doesn’t seem quite appropriate.”
“Where?” Gu Qingfeng asked.
“Miss Jiang is married,” the assistant said carefully. “And she seems very much in love with Miss Cheng.”
Though she didn’t say it outright, the implication was clear: Don’t try to come between them!
Especially not so openly! It was unbecoming! If the gossip accounts on social media got wind of this, the PR team would be pulling all-nighters again.
Moreover, the business card Gu Qingfeng gave Jiang Ciyi had her private number on it.
The assistant had been with Gu Qingfeng for two and a half years and had never seen her give her private number to anyone in the industry.
Some bold people had asked for her contact, but Gu Qingfeng wouldn’t even spare them a glance.
Gu Qingfeng was famously aloof in the industry.
Yet no one dared to cross her.
No one knew who backed her, or perhaps she herself was the power behind her success.
Living in a luxurious villa in the exorbitantly priced Jianggang, never taking on supporting roles in films, and boasting a national recognition that was second to none.
To reach such heights at her age, a bit of arrogance was warranted.
The assistant had benefited plenty from working for her. Wherever she went, she didn’t need to bow or scrape. Just saying she was Gu Qingfeng’s assistant earned her respect.
So, naturally, she didn’t want to lose this job.
Though tonight was Gu Qingfeng’s personal affair, the assistant couldn’t help but speak up.
Because she felt that the way Gu Qingfeng looked at Miss Jiang… wasn’t entirely innocent.
Gu Qingfeng, however, curved her lips slightly. “Are you sure they’re in love?”
“They seem to be,” the assistant replied.
Gu Qingfeng recalled the conversation she’d overheard today. The maids at Tinglan Mansion had gossiped about Cheng Xing’s past behavior toward Jiang Ciyi—locking her in the attic right after their marriage, as if taming a wild animal, only to later shower her with affection.
None of the maids could make sense of it, so they whispered among themselves.
To Gu Qingfeng, this behavior reeked of emotional manipulation, or what some might call PUA.
It even seemed laced with elements of Stockholm syndrome.
When things “improved,” everyone around would praise how good she was to you, and the victim would gradually forget the past pain. But the fear would be etched into their bones, manifesting in behaviors like Jiang Ciyi’s—instinctively gauging the other’s reactions.
Gu Qingfeng didn’t consider herself a saint, but she was willing to offer Jiang Ciyi a hand in this matter.
Of course, if Jiang Ciyi didn’t seize the opportunity, she wouldn’t meddle further.
She didn’t explain all this to her overthinking assistant, only saying lightly, “I know what I’m doing.”
“Alright,” the assistant replied, not daring to push further. As she debated whether to tell their manager, Sister Lu, about this, Gu Qingfeng spoke again. “Don’t mention anything about Miss Jiang to anyone.”
Her tone was calm, her voice clear and crisp.
There was no hint of threat, yet it sent a chill down the spine.
The assistant froze.
She never doubted Gu Qingfeng’s methods.
She could only nod obediently.
Before bed, Cheng Xing went downstairs as usual to heat milk for Jiang Ciyi.
She added a heavier dose of ground sleeping pills to the cup, poured in the milk, and stirred carefully until fully dissolved before placing it in the microwave.
The cup was still hot after heating, so Cheng Xing used a piece of insulating paper to carry it upstairs.
Jiang Ciyi was still watching Spring Court Evening.
The class reunion tonight seemed to have had little effect on her.
Cheng Xing placed the milk on her bedside table, circled around to her side of the bed, and lay down, casually glancing at the TV.
Gu Qingfeng’s face on the screen wasn’t as striking as in person. Before meeting her, Cheng Xing could focus on the show, but now, having seen her in real life, it felt a bit jarring.
Cheng Xing opened her chat with Gu Qingfeng on WeChat, finding only the default system message from when they added each other.
She clicked on Gu Qingfeng’s Moments—completely blank, except for a background image of five cartoon figures, likely her friends or family.
Gu Qingfeng’s WeChat was simple: her name was just “Qingfeng,” and her profile picture was a maple tree amid a snowy expanse.
When Gu Qingfeng had waited specifically to add Jiang Ciyi’s WeChat, Cheng Xing had a faint suspicion about her intentions. But Gu Qingfeng didn’t exclude her or act otherwise—she added her openly.
What did that mean?
Cheng Xing had distinctly sensed a strong sense of aggression in Gu Qingfeng’s eyes.
As she pondered, Jiang Ciyi suddenly spoke. “Are you still watching? I’m going to sleep.”
“Not anymore,” Cheng Xing said, turning off the projector and extinguishing the room’s lights, leaving only the soft glow of Jiang Ciyi’s bedside lamp.
The dim light made the room quiet and gentle. Cheng Xing lay flat, breathing slowly, waiting for Jiang Ciyi to fall asleep, careful not to drift off herself.
But the past two days of relying on coffee to stay alert had taken a toll. Though she’d slept longer during the day, it hadn’t fully restored her energy.
For someone with a healthy routine, this inverted sleep schedule was hard to adjust to.
Fearing she might accidentally fall asleep, she let her mind race with thoughts about Jiang Ciyi.
The room was quiet for a long time. Just when Cheng Xing thought Jiang Ciyi was asleep, she suddenly spoke. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Cheng Xing jolted awake, opening her eyes.
It wasn’t Jiang Ciyi who was nearly asleep—it was her, teetering on the edge of slumber.
But Jiang Ciyi’s voice snapped her back.
“What?” Cheng Xing cleared her throat, pinching the side of her neck to force herself to stay alert.
“You,” Jiang Ciyi paused, repeating the question she’d asked earlier that evening when they returned home. “Will you be absolutely loyal to me?”
Loyalty was a heavy word.
Loyalty to a country, to a ruler… it carried profound weight through the ages.
For a relationship as new as theirs, it seemed almost out of place.
Yet Jiang Ciyi asked it casually, her eyes closed, breathing steadily in the dark as if on the verge of sleep.
But only she knew.
If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have asked a second time.
Raising a topic again, after it had been interrupted, in a different setting, took courage.
By her count, this was probably the first time Jiang Ciyi had done so.
Because it was the first time someone had used the word “loyalty” to describe their relationship to her.
In an advisory tone.
Cheng Xing thought for a moment before saying softly, “I suppose so.”
Jiang Ciyi chuckled lightly. “Why did it take you so long to think about it?”
“Shouldn’t it?” Cheng Xing replied, her eyelids drooping with exhaustion as she fought her body’s instincts, yet still answering carefully. “Only lies come without thought.”
Jiang Ciyi’s tone lightened slightly. “So you’re not lying?”
“No,” Cheng Xing said with a small laugh. “Why would I lie to you?”
“You gave a positive answer,” Jiang Ciyi noted.
Cheng Xing paused, then said in a low voice, “Ciyi, you’ve already sentenced me to death in your heart.”
Jiang Ciyi didn’t respond.
Cheng Xing turned over, the faint light from the bedside lamp illuminating Jiang Ciyi’s profile. She seemed to have gained a little weight recently, but compared to most, she was still very thin.
Her porcelain-white face looked frail in the light, evoking pity.
Cheng Xing called softly, “Ciyi.”
“Hm?” Jiang Ciyi glanced at her.
“What answer were you hoping for?” Cheng Xing asked earnestly.
“It’s not about hoping,” Jiang Ciyi said. “It’s about worldly norms and common sense.”
“What kind of norms? What kind of sense?” Cheng Xing stared at her intently. “Maybe you could trust my words.”
“Worldly norms are that human nature is hard to change, but hearts change easily.”
“…”
Cheng Xing suddenly realized that the class reunion hadn’t left Jiang Ciyi unaffected.
Perhaps her heart was a storm of crashing waves and piercing rocks, all suppressed beneath her calm, indifferent facade.
“Common sense is that no one can be completely loyal to another,” Jiang Ciyi said coolly. “Not friends, and certainly not lovers.”
After a pause, she turned her head and added, “To be precise—especially lovers.”
Her eyes, staring at the ceiling, were cold, guarded, and distant, as if encased in unmelting ice.
Cheng Xing wanted to reach out and touch her eyes, to see if they were as cold as they seemed.
But as her hand extended, Jiang Ciyi glanced at it faintly.
Cheng Xing’s fingers curled back, retreating.
On her retracted hand, the dazzling diamond ring still gleamed.
Jiang Ciyi said, “Cheng Xing, let’s sleep.”
She’d dropped a bombshell before bed, exploding silently between them, shattering the quiet room with invisible sparks, only to calmly say, “Let’s sleep.”
No one could sleep after that.
Especially Cheng Xing, who was already preoccupied and now stung by Jiang Ciyi’s quick judgment of her intentions, feeling wronged and frustrated.
“Ciyi,” Cheng Xing suddenly pinched her cheek and quickly pulled back.
Jiang Ciyi opened her eyes in disbelief, her brow furrowing. “Hm?”
“I don’t expect you to fully trust me,” Cheng Xing said. “But can you not sentence me to death so quickly in your heart?”
Cheng Xing analyzed her words. “You assumed the answer before asking the question. If I said yes, you’d think I was lying because you believe human nature is fixed but hearts are fickle. If I said no, you’d naturally conclude I couldn’t be your lover, your friend, or even your partner in arms.”
Cheng Xing countered, “So what answer were you hoping for?”
Jiang Ciyi pulled the blanket up, saying nothing.
“Want to hear a story?” Cheng Xing didn’t press further, shifting the topic.
She saw the resistance in Jiang Ciyi’s eyes.
Jiang Ciyi lowered her gaze. “Go ahead.”
Cheng Xing’s tone was gentle, recounting the story without much personal emotion, as if it were just an interesting tale.
It was a story she’d come across while scrolling on her phone.
A driver was transporting a bus full of mental patients to an asylum but stopped midway to use the restroom. When he returned, all the patients had escaped. So, he drove to a bus stop and offered free rides to 30 people.
The bus was filled again and arrived at the asylum, where everyone insisted they weren’t mentally ill.
But no one believed them.
Because—all mental patients deny they’re ill.
The driver escaped blame. Years later, when he visited the asylum again, he found that all the normal people he’d taken there had become mental patients.
After finishing the poignant story, before Cheng Xing could explain its moral, the sharp-witted Jiang Ciyi cut in. “I didn’t prejudge you as a mental patient.”
Cheng Xing let out a relieved breath.
Then Jiang Ciyi added, “You showed signs of being one first.”
Cheng Xing: “…”
“There’s not much point to it,” Jiang Ciyi said, yawning and lying back down. “Let’s sleep. I’m tired.”
Cheng Xing said gently, “It matters to me.”
She didn’t expect her words to change Jiang Ciyi’s view of her; she just wanted to express her thoughts. “When I’m loyal to you, I hope you can trust me.”
“Maybe one day,” Jiang Ciyi murmured, her voice soft, as if she were already half-asleep.
But to Cheng Xing, it felt like a heavy stone was lodged in her heart, leaving her sleepless.
Half an hour later, hearing Jiang Ciyi’s steady breathing, Cheng Xing quietly got out of bed.
She disinfected a set of silver needles, pulled over a low stool, and sat by the bed. She rolled up Jiang Ciyi’s pant leg, warmed her hands, and placed them on the base of Jiang Ciyi’s thigh.
Her leg was cold. Cheng Xing applied a hot towel for a while before starting the massage.
From the thigh to the ankle and every acupoint on her foot—she missed none.
After massaging her foot, feeling a bit indignant while watching Jiang Ciyi sleep soundly, Cheng Xing lightly tapped her instep.
Her delicate skin couldn’t handle even a slight pain and reddened immediately.
Cheng Xing quickly rubbed it gently.
…
At 2:30 a.m., Cheng Xing yawned and began removing the dense array of silver needles from Jiang Ciyi’s leg.
By the time she’d finished and washed up, it was 3:00 a.m.
Unlike the previous two days, she wasn’t as exhausted—perhaps because of the fire burning in her heart.
After tidying up, she picked up the diamond ring from the bedside, looked at it, and slipped it onto her ring finger.
The next morning, Cheng Xing was woken by the alarm. Jiang Ciyi had just gotten up.
In the same room, they tacitly didn’t exchange a single word.
The tension from last night lingered into the morning.
Breakfast, prepared by the maid, consisted of nutritious porridge and dishes. They ate in silence, setting down their chopsticks at the same time.
After breakfast, Cheng Xing had Sister Zhou prepare a cup of coffee. She took a few sips to perk up before grabbing her bag and heading out.
She drove the modified car into the courtyard and got out to pick up Jiang Ciyi, only to find her already waiting.
Cheng Xing opened the passenger door, and Jiang Ciyi maneuvered her wheelchair into the seat.
As Cheng Xing leaned in to fasten her seatbelt, Jiang Ciyi did it herself.
Cheng Xing’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure what to do.
She lowered her hand, closed the door, took a deep breath, and circled back to the driver’s seat.
The car was quieter than usual today. Both seemed to be holding back, neither saying a word.
The car’s music played random songs, all sleepy, lyrical tunes.
At stoplights, Cheng Xing sipped her iced coffee to stay alert. Jiang Ciyi glanced at the coffee several times but said nothing.
The drive to Jiang Ciyi’s lab was smooth. She stayed in the car, not getting out.
After five minutes of silence, with one song ending and another reaching its climax, Cheng Xing tapped the steering wheel. “We’re here.”
“I’m thinking about something,” Jiang Ciyi said, turning off the music and closing her eyes for a moment.
“What?” Cheng Xing asked.
Jiang Ciyi opened her eyes, took off the ring, and placed it on the center console. “After thinking it over, I’m returning this to you.”
Cheng Xing stared at the ring, suddenly recalling the moment last night when she’d kissed Jiang Ciyi’s finger while putting it on her—a fleeting touch that sent a powerful jolt through her.
That Jiang Ciyi would return the ring wasn’t unexpected.
But she hadn’t expected it to happen now.
She thought Jiang Ciyi would quietly head to the lab and let the matter pass.
“Thank you for covering for me last night,” Jiang Ciyi said. “But I can’t accept this ring.”
“It’s yours,” Cheng Xing said, pushing it back. “Consider it compensation.”
The original owner had bought Jiang Ciyi a massive pigeon-egg diamond ring to deceive her, only to rip it off her finger on their wedding night. It fit so snugly that it wouldn’t come off easily, and the original owner nearly broke her finger trying.
It must have been an unpleasant memory for Jiang Ciyi.
“Even if you don’t wear it, it’s an asset,” Cheng Xing said. “You can sell it for cash later.”
Jiang Ciyi turned to her. “A ring carries a different meaning.”
“You can treat it like any luxury item. For a marriage without love, it’s no different.”
“…”
Something in her words struck Jiang Ciyi, and she took the ring back.
“I’m going now,” Jiang Ciyi said, opening the door but hesitating. “Cheng Xing.”
“Hm?”
“I got a bit emotional last night. Sorry,” Jiang Ciyi said, then maneuvered her wheelchair out of the car.
Cheng Xing got out too, pushing her wheelchair forward.
Jiang Ciyi’s expression was slightly awkward. After a brief pause, Cheng Xing smiled and teased, “Miss Jiang, have you ever apologized to anyone before?”
“No,” Jiang Ciyi muttered. “You should get to work.”
“Then why are your ears red?” Cheng Xing reached out and pinched her earlobe.
Jiang Ciyi frowned. “It’s cold out.”
A blatant lie.
Cheng Xing, pleased with her apology, asked what she wanted for dinner.
In the elevator, just the two of them, Jiang Ciyi could see the slight curve of Cheng Xing’s lips. Instead of answering, she asked, “You’re not mad anymore?”
“I wasn’t mad,” Cheng Xing said.
“Hm?”
“I was sulking.”
“Oh.”
Jiang Ciyi’s flat tone sparked Cheng Xing’s dissatisfaction. “Think about it. I’m wholeheartedly good to you, but you test me with an unanswerable question and then judge my character.”
Jiang Ciyi recalled last night’s haze. Her mind hadn’t been clear, likely due to the milk. After drinking it, she’d fought her body’s urge to sleep, deliberately picking provocative topics to stay awake.
But the conversation had spiraled like a wild horse, and her thoughts had snowballed.
Even so, she couldn’t fend off the overwhelming drowsiness.
She apologized again for her words.
Cheng Xing smiled. “Alright, Ciyi, I forgive you.”
Jiang Ciyi’s tense face broke into a smile.
Seeing this, Cheng Xing pinched her cheek, just as she had last night, quick and fleeting.
Before Jiang Ciyi could look up in surprise, Cheng Xing preempted her. “A morning smile brings luck all day.”
Jiang Ciyi: “…”
Afraid of retaliation, Cheng Xing dropped her off at the lab door and waved. “Bye, Ciyi, I’m off to work.”
She darted into the elevator and disappeared.
As the elevator descended, Jiang Ciyi shook her head helplessly at the doors, her smile fading as she looked up.
Entering the lab, Xu Congshi, in a white coat, tossed her an orange.
If Jiang Ciyi hadn’t caught it quickly, it would’ve hit her leg. Holding the large, bright orange, she said, “I already ate breakfast.”
“Post-meal fruit,” Xu Congshi said. “For your vitamin C.”
Jiang Ciyi accepted it but muttered, “Aren’t you afraid I’d miss it and it’d hit my leg?”
Xu Congshi glanced at her leg and grinned. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
Jiang Ciyi: “…”
“What about my heart hurting?” she asked calmly.
Xu Congshi shrugged. “If you haven’t moved past this little storm, you’re not the Jiang Ciyi I know.”
Jiang Ciyi’s face finally showed some expression—a rare eye roll.
Xu Congshi stepped forward, patting her shoulder. “Of course, if you’re still struggling, your senior can help you desensitize.”
Jiang Ciyi couldn’t help it and flicked her hand. “Thanks a lot.”
Xu Congshi pulled back. “No need to thank me. I’m just nice.”
After some pointless banter, Xu Congshi was about to get to work when Jiang Ciyi stopped her. “Help me with something.”
Xu Congshi asked, “When can you finish analyzing the samples I need?”
Jiang Ciyi: “…”
Though not a capitalist, Xu Congshi had the makings of a research dog.
One trait: dogged persistence.
“Next Tuesday,” Jiang Ciyi said.
“This Friday,” Xu Congshi bargained.
“Then I’ll ask someone else,” Jiang Ciyi replied.
Xu Congshi’s samples would take at least ten days. Seven was already the minimum.
Xu Congshi backed off. “What’s the favor? Name it.”
Jiang Ciyi handed her a sealed plastic bag containing a milky liquid. “Test the components in this.”
Afraid it might be toxic, Xu Congshi asked if she could smell it.
Jiang Ciyi said yes. After opening it, Xu Congshi asked in surprise, “Isn’t this just milk?”
“The specific components,” Jiang Ciyi said. “Give me the results when you’re done. Thanks.”