Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 65

65

Cheng Xing used her forehead to check Jiang Ciyi’s temperature but still didn’t notice anything unusual.

She was debating whether to call the family doctor to give Jiang Ciyi an IV drip when she noticed Jiang Ciyi’s startled expression.

Only then did she realize her action was a bit too intimate.

It wasn’t appropriate for the current situation.

Cheng Xing immediately stood up straight, somewhat embarrassed, and said, “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Ciyi replied softly, then turned to Sister Zhou. “Sister Zhou, did someone come by today?”

“Miss Xu came looking for you,” Sister Zhou answered truthfully. “Her car stayed outside the residence afterward. Did you run into her when you came back?”

“I saw the car,” Jiang Ciyi said. “But she didn’t get out.”

Cheng Xing only then recalled the car she’d seen outside Tinglan Residence.

In a place like Tinglan Residence, designed for privacy, the surroundings were usually quite secluded.

It was rare for a car to be parked on the roadside.

“I’ll go see what she’s up to,” Cheng Xing said, heading out, only to find Xu Zhaozhao’s car already gone.

When she returned, Jiang Ciyi was eating a bowl of sweet fermented rice dumplings that Sister Zhou had arranged to be made. Perhaps because Jiang Ciyi had praised them the previous day, saying they were warming during the cold weather, Sister Zhou had taken note and had them prepared again as a late-night snack to help Jiang Ciyi, who was feverish from a cold, warm up.

Cheng Xing also helped herself to half a bowl, then measured Jiang Ciyi’s temperature downstairs.

37.5°C—a low-grade fever.

Cheng Xing gave her a fever-reducing pill, prepared some cold medicine, and asked Sister Zhou to call the family doctor to give Jiang Ciyi a fever-reducing injection.

By the time everything was done, it was already ten o’clock at night.

Jiang Ciyi, forcing herself to stay alert, took a shower and got into bed. She scrolled through her phone, looking at news, but fell asleep before finishing two articles.

Cheng Xing touched her forehead—it was still hot. Perhaps feeling the heat, Jiang Ciyi, who usually slept calmly and neatly, lifted the blanket off herself. Only her legs, which she couldn’t move or feel, remained still.

Cheng Xing brought cold water and a towel to physically cool her down. Seeing Jiang Ciyi’s pale face turn flushed, Cheng Xing couldn’t help but feel guilty.

The previous day’s temperature drop wasn’t significant, and the night wasn’t much colder than usual. But Cheng Xing, caught in some nightmare, had hogged the blanket all night.

She’d pulled most of the large double blanket off the bed, wrapping herself into a ball and leaving Jiang Ciyi exposed in the cold for much of the night.

It wasn’t until Cheng Xing woke from her nightmare that she realized she’d taken all the blanket, drenched in sweat herself. Meanwhile, Jiang Ciyi, dressed in thin silk pajamas, was curled up with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her fingers cold and clenched.

Cheng Xing hurriedly gave most of the blanket to Jiang Ciyi, but when she touched her forehead, it was burning.

After her car accident and multiple surgeries, Jiang Ciyi’s immune system wasn’t what it used to be. Even with IV drips, her fever kept recurring.

Cheng Xing kept changing the towel to lower her temperature, hoping she could sleep more comfortably.

By eleven o’clock, Cheng Xing checked her temperature again with a thermometer—36.8°C. The fever had finally broken.

Cheng Xing breathed a sigh of relief, took out the silver needles for acupuncture from the cabinet, washed her hands with hot water, lifted the blanket, pulled up Jiang Ciyi’s pajama pants, applied medicinal oil, and carefully massaged from her thighs to her toes and soles, leaving no spot untouched.

She was already practiced at this. After an hour and a half of massage, Cheng Xing stretched her fingers during a break to wash her hands and returned to the bedside.

Jiang Ciyi suddenly woke up, reaching for the water glass at the bedside, but it was empty. Cheng Xing instinctively checked her forehead again, murmuring that the fever had subsided, and poured her a glass of light saltwater.

“You’re not done yet?” Jiang Ciyi asked after swallowing the water, her dry throat feeling better and her voice less hoarse. She glanced up faintly. “You’re always up so late.”

“Almost done,” Cheng Xing said, taking the glass and going to pour more water. But realizing the water might cool down if Jiang Ciyi woke again later, she started rummaging through the cabinets for a thermos.

“What are you looking for?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

“A thermos,” Cheng Xing replied. “Otherwise, if you wake up later wanting water, it’ll be cold.”

Jiang Ciyi’s eyes were half-closed. “I don’t think there’s one in the room.”

Just as she finished speaking, Cheng Xing pulled one out from the cabinet. “I knew there was one.”

“When did you put it there?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

“When you were in the hospital. I bought it the same day as the envelope.”

It was a pink thermos, bought specifically for Jiang Ciyi. But with so much going on after coming home, and noticing that Jiang Ciyi didn’t have a habit of drinking water right after waking—she usually drank warm honey water downstairs—Cheng Xing had tucked it away unused.

She hadn’t expected it to come in handy now.

The new thermos was rinsed with hot water, soaked for a bit, and then filled with 80°C water.

When Cheng Xing brought it over, Jiang Ciyi stared at it for a moment. Exhausted from the fever and with a slightly hoarse voice, she teased, “Miss Cheng has quite a girly side.”

“Bought it just for you,” Cheng Xing said. “Suits you perfectly.”

Jiang Ciyi: “…”

Cheng Xing noticed Jiang Ciyi’s slight grimace, as if to say “don’t bother me,” and laughed. “Don’t always wear black. You’ve got so many colorful clothes in your closet. Black’s too dull.”

As she spoke, Cheng Xing moved to the foot of the bed. In the midst of their banter, she swiftly inserted the acupuncture needles, so fast it was hard to follow.

Normally, Jiang Ciyi could at least catch a glimpse, but today, feeling weak, her vision blurred. “Your technique’s gotten better,” she said.

“Has it?” Cheng Xing didn’t think so. The speed of needling wasn’t a measure of skill, and maybe she was just tired and wanted to finish quickly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you tired?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

Cheng Xing shook her head. “I’m fine.”

But right after, she yawned. Jiang Ciyi suddenly chuckled. “Then I’ll keep you company a bit longer.”

“No need,” Cheng Xing said, tucking the blanket around her. “You’re a patient. You need to rest to recover.”

“I slept a bit and don’t feel as tired now,” Jiang Ciyi said.

The room fell quiet, filled only with their back-and-forth.

They didn’t have much to talk about—having spent nearly the whole day together, any interesting topics had already been discussed.

They chatted idly. Cheng Xing mentioned how her colleague Daisy had messaged her, assuming her leave was due to office gossip or a depressive episode, sending her comforting words and a few motivational articles.

Talking about colleagues, Cheng Xing said Jiang Bai and Lan Bo, two guys who looked sneaky at first glance, turned out to be not as bad as she’d judged. But they were petty, loved gossip, and would sneak off to the stairwell to smoke, badmouthing one person and spilling secrets about another.

Cheng Xing complained about how they’d return to the office reeking of smoke.

Jiang Ciyi listened calmly. “You used to smoke too.”

Cheng Xing: “…”

She’d forgotten that detail.

The original host did smoke, sometimes heavily. After returning from the hospital, Cheng Xing found cigarettes stashed in various drawers but had put them aside.

She didn’t like the smell of smoke and would rather spend money on food.

“I quit,” Cheng Xing said. “It’s not good for you to breathe secondhand smoke either.”

“Hmm.” Jiang Ciyi responded faintly.

The atmosphere grew quiet. To keep things lively, Cheng Xing quickly found another topic. “Did your senior explain why she was late yesterday? She doesn’t seem like someone who’d be late for half a day.”

“She said something came up,” Jiang Ciyi replied. Never one for socializing, she only half-listened to gossip, so her recounting lacked the vividness of Cheng Xing’s storytelling.

She mentally reviewed her entire conversation with Xu Congshi from the previous day but found nothing interesting, so she changed the subject. “Tell me more about your colleagues.”

Cheng Xing: “…”

Cheng Xing gave her a sideways glance. “Why am I the only one talking? Why don’t you share?”

“I don’t have much to say,” Jiang Ciyi replied.

“How about Brother Xi?” Cheng Xing suggested. “You must have some stories about the people at the police station.”

Jiang Ciyi thought for a moment. “Brother Xi is in charge of Wang Tingwan’s case. He’s been so stressed his hair’s almost gone white this year.”

Cheng Xing froze, thinking Jiang Ciyi had noticed something. She casually asked, “Why bring up Wang Tingwan all of a sudden?”

“You seemed interested in her case,” Jiang Ciyi said lightly. “Last night, in your dreams, you kept calling her name.”

Cheng Xing was stunned. She’d forgotten what nightmare she’d had, but hadn’t expected it to involve Wang Tingwan.

It made sense.

If the original host had killed Wang Tingwan, she was carrying the weight of a life taken.

For someone who couldn’t even kill a fish, that was unbearable.

If it was confirmed, it meant she was trapped in a desperate situation, abandoned by all.

Cheng Xing should be scared, panicked even, but how could she have said it in her dreams?

That could easily give her away.

“Xu Zhaozhao brought her up,” Cheng Xing said vaguely. “I got curious after looking into it.”

“Wang Tingwan was…” Jiang Ciyi’s gaze swept over her face, ignoring her complex expression, and calmly began recounting her story. But having never shared these things with anyone, she organized her thoughts for a long time before speaking. “A good person.”

Cheng Xing held her breath, expecting a flowery description, only to hear those four words. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s a pretty plain review,” Cheng Xing said, slowing down as she removed the needles.

Jiang Ciyi said, “True. But some people’s goodness is hard to capture in words.”

No matter how elaborate the words, they couldn’t describe a fraction of her.

Jiang Ciyi met Wang Tingwan by chance. Five years ago, Wang’s father died unexpectedly, his body found in the flowerbed on the top floor of their villa. Jiang Ciyi, new to the Jianggang Police Station, wasn’t trusted to handle an autopsy alone.

But the station was short-staffed, with most forensic experts reassigned elsewhere. Only she and another forensic doctor were left.

When a flu outbreak sent the other doctor to the hospital with a pneumothorax, Jiang Ciyi was the only one available.

Trying to stay composed, she had Wang’s father’s body brought to the station and performed the autopsy to determine the cause of death.

As the victim’s daughter, Wang Tingwan wasn’t aggressive. She was the most emotionally stable family member Jiang Ciyi had ever encountered. Even years later, Jiang Ciyi remained grateful to her. Dressed in a black dress, surrounded by bodyguards at the Jianggang Police Station, Wang Tingwan looked gentle but stood firm, declaring confidently, “I trust Dr. Jiang.”

Thanks to her, Jiang Ciyi earned a reputation boost at the station, becoming the fastest-promoted forensic doctor.

After the case was solved, Jiang Ciyi visited Wang’s father’s grave with flowers, only to find Wang Tingwan, who had stayed composed during the funeral, sobbing uncontrollably at the tomb.

It was then that she seemed like a girl who had lost her beloved father.

Perhaps out of empathy, Jiang Ciyi handed her a tissue that day and shared her own father’s story.

She had never willingly talked about her broken family background.

She even brought Wang Tingwan to her home, where her grandmother, delighted by her, cooked a table full of dishes.

To thank her, Wang Tingwan offered to gift her a property to ensure her grandmother’s comfort in her later years, but Jiang Ciyi declined.

From then on, they stayed in touch.

Their relationship was decent, but after Wang’s father’s death, Wang Tingwan took charge of the family business, becoming the new CEO.

The board, skeptical of her youth and inexperience, was critical, but Wang Tingwan decisively cleared out dissenters and delivered near-perfect results within two years.

Occasionally, she’d meet Jiang Ciyi for drinks.

Jiang Ciyi, with her average alcohol tolerance, would be roused from bed after a long day by Wang Tingwan’s call, hurriedly throw on clothes, and head to a modest barbecue restaurant. They’d sit in a corner, chatting casually, and each time, Wang Tingwan’s drinking capacity seemed to improve.

Jiang Ciyi stayed with her late, then called her boyfriend to pick her up.

The heiress would check if Jiang Ciyi got home safely. Once, when her boyfriend only picked her up and didn’t ensure Jiang Ciyi’s safe return, Wang Tingwan was so upset she gave him the cold shoulder for a week.

Her boyfriend, feeling wronged, brought gifts to apologize to Jiang Ciyi, who found it both amusing and exasperating.

Later, Jiang Ciyi learned that Wang Tingwan’s boyfriend was Cheng Xing’s second brother, Cheng Zijing.

Jiang Ciyi never felt Wang Tingwan acted like a typical heiress.

Unlike the arrogant rich girls she’d met, Wang Tingwan was never condescending. Their conversations were often about poetry, songs, or romantic ideals—she was a businesswoman with a romantic soul.

One night, she called Jiang Ciyi out of the blue. Thinking it was urgent, Jiang Ciyi was surprised to hear Wang Tingwan say, sounding aggrieved, “I haven’t finished a book in so long. I’m so sad.”

The next day after work, Jiang Ciyi went to a bookstore, picked out a thin book, and mailed it to Wang Tingwan.

When Wang Tingwan received it, she called to thank her. Jiang Ciyi said she hoped she liked it, mentioning it was recommended by someone else.

Wang Tingwan teased if she had a girlfriend. After hesitating, Jiang Ciyi said, “Maybe a pen pal I’ve never met?”

It was the first time she told anyone about her pen pal and the romantic hopes of her youth.

Prepared to be mocked, she was surprised when Wang Tingwan said enviously, “That’s so pure.”

Wang Tingwan even encouraged her to find her pen pal, excitedly flipping through a calendar to plan a trip, offering to accompany her.

She was ready to fly Jiang Ciyi across the country to meet her pen pal.

If Jiang Ciyi had found the address or received another letter, or if she hadn’t worried about disturbing them and lost the urge to meet, she might have gone with Wang Tingwan.

Wang Tingwan called it a pity, but Jiang Ciyi comforted her, “Regret is part of life.”

Back then, Jiang Ciyi thought someone like Wang Tingwan would have a smooth path ahead, free of regrets.

She never imagined Wang Tingwan would become a regret for so many.

Jiang Ciyi selectively shared their story with Cheng Xing. By the end, lying in bed, a tear fell.

She didn’t embellish much, even skipping the moments that touched her most, but it still left Cheng Xing’s heart heavy.

Seeing Jiang Ciyi wipe her tears, Cheng Xing quickly handed her a tissue.

“The truth will come out.” Cheng Xing said.

After tidying up, Cheng Xing excused herself to shower, citing sweat. Warm water flowed over her body.

Her mind replayed Jiang Ciyi’s words. Though she’d never met or spent time with Wang Tingwan, an image of her formed in her mind.

Such a good person…

How could the original host have done it?!

Cheng Xing pressed her temples, trying to dig into the original host’s memories about Wang Tingwan.

For a moment, it felt like she’d entered a foreign world. A white light flashed, followed by swirling, vibrant colors.

Then, a narrow scene appeared, like peeking through a door. Cheng Zijing was kneeling, changing Wang Tingwan’s shoes. A surge of unfamiliar emotions—jealousy and hatred—flooded her.

Cheng Xing felt her head might explode but refused to let go of the rare clue.

A faintly familiar voice spoke, “Sister Tingwan was biased against me. When I was little, my sister took me to play with her, but she hid me in the bathroom, saying I was a tag along who’d cause trouble. I never did anything to her. Now she’s with Brother Zijing, and later…”

“Baby, I don’t think we can be together.”

“Why not?”

“Sister Tingwan will definitely badmouth me to Mom. Mom likes her more than me.”

“She won’t.”

“True. Anyone would prefer Sister Tingwan.”

“But I like you. That’s enough.”

“…”

A harsh, electric buzz filled her mind, cutting off the memory, leaving only excruciating pain.

It wasn’t until Cheng Xing gave up forcing the memory that, after a long while, she slowly opened her eyes. Hot water washed over her, steam filling the bathroom. Her heart felt hollowed out, the pain rendering her speechless.

But more than that was shock and an unknown fear.

The original host had guarded this memory fiercely, so invading it caused such intense pain. For a moment, she felt like she was floating, fighting for control of the same body—and losing.

Piecing together the memory fragments, along with the photo Xu Zhaozhao used to threaten her, it formed a clear conclusion: Wang Tingwan was killed by someone the original host hired.

The motive and means were both present.

Whether the original host protected this memory because of Su Manchun was unclear, but Su Manchun was at least a catalyst.

As the pain subsided, Cheng Xing tried to access the memory again but was stopped by the system.

Its mechanical voice, unusually stern, scolded her and threatened punishment if she tried again.

Cheng Xing asked why and inquired about the original host’s whereabouts, wondering if she was imagining things. It felt like the original host still existed, somewhere unseen, perhaps even within this body.

Normally, she felt nothing, but in moments like this, the sense of invasion was overwhelming.

The system remained silent.

Frustrated, Cheng Xing muttered complaints, wrapped herself in a towel, and left the bathroom after drying off.

Back in the room, Jiang Ciyi’s phone was playing a drama. She lay on her side, half-squinting at it. Seeing Cheng Xing, she turned it off.

Cheng Xing checked her forehead again—the fever was gone—and gently asked if she felt uncomfortable anywhere.

Jiang Ciyi shook her head, and the room fell silent again.

Cheng Xing thought she’d struggle to sleep, but soon drifted off.

In a half-dream state, she heard Jiang Ciyi say, “Cheng Xing, I miss Wang Tingwan.”

Cheng Xing turned to see Jiang Ciyi looking at her, eyes open.

The sudden eye contact snapped her awake. Seeing those slightly teary eyes, Cheng Xing’s heart softened, mixed with confusion about the future and regret for Wang Tingwan, whom she’d never met. Her voice trembled, “Want a hug?”

Without waiting for a reply, Cheng Xing leaned over, hugging her tightly, head buried in her shoulder. “Jiang Ciyi.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Jiang Ciyi didn’t respond.

Cheng Xing held her so tightly it was hard to breathe.

The hug felt like Cheng Xing comforting her, but also herself.

Jiang Ciyi asked, “Did something happen?”

“Thank you for being alive,” Cheng Xing whispered. “It’s selfish, but I was just so relieved you’re still here.”

It was as if something heavy struck Jiang Ciyi’s heart.

The next day, Jiang Ciyi went to work and briefly crossed paths with Xu Congshi.

Xu Congshi asked about her health with little energy, then they parted to focus on their tasks.

At lunch, Xu Congshi only picked at her food before setting down her chopsticks. Jiang Ciyi asked why she wasn’t eating, noting it wasn’t like her usual self and wondering if she’d hit a bottleneck.

Xu Congshi smiled. “Isn’t science full of bottlenecks?”

“Then what’s wrong?” Jiang Ciyi pressed. “You’ve been off since the day before yesterday.”

Xu Congshi looked into her eyes, hesitating.

“You can tell me what’s bothering you,” Jiang Ciyi said.

Xu Congshi pursed her lips. “My mom’s been setting me up with an arranged match, but I’m really against it…”

She trailed off, suddenly eyeing Jiang Ciyi suspiciously. “Why are you suddenly interested in my business? You used to be oblivious to everything. What’s up? Has Cheng Xing’s nosiness rubbed off on you?”

Jiang Ciyi froze, not responding.

Xu Congshi tsked. “No wonder they say you can’t sleep in the same bed and be two different people.”

At first, Xu Congshi didn’t like Cheng Xing, but over time, she’d warmed to her.

Cheng Xing didn’t make a fuss when accompanying Jiang Ciyi to work, stepping in only when needed, which overturned Xu Congshi’s initial impression. Plus, Cheng Xing never came empty-handed, treating the lab staff to snacks and milk tea, making her quite welcome.

She was especially kind to Xu Congshi, offering to treat her to meals multiple times, though Xu Congshi always declined. Instead, Cheng Xing had Jiang Ciyi bring food made by their maid in containers.

These were small gestures, and Xu Congshi never neglected her stomach, but when busy in the lab, she often skipped meals. Since Jiang Ciyi started working there, her eating habits had become more regular.

Over time, Xu Congshi teased them both but stopped suggesting Jiang Ciyi divorce.

She only occasionally warned Jiang Ciyi not to fall into a hunter’s trap too quickly.

Jiang Ciyi hadn’t cared about such things before, so Xu Congshi’s question caught her off guard. She shook her head. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. Why get snarky about us?”

Xu Congshi immediately denied it. “I wasn’t! Don’t accuse me.”

“‘Same bed, different people’ is negative,” Jiang Ciyi said. “‘Not the same family, don’t enter the same door’ fits your context better.”

Xu Congshi: “…”

She made a “nine” gesture with one hand.

“What’s that mean?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

Xu Congshi: “Nine. Can’t you tell?”

“I can, but I don’t get it.”

Xu Congshi: “…It’s six turned upside down.”

Jiang Ciyi: “…”

The banter sidetracked them, and Jiang Ciyi didn’t get to the bottom of Xu Congshi’s troubles, but lunch passed smoothly.

After Xu Congshi’s comment, Jiang Ciyi noticed she’d become more curious about gossip. Previously uninterested in colleagues’ chatter, she now asked, “And then?” after someone mentioned something.

She learned plenty of interesting tidbits.

On the way home, she shared the fun ones with Cheng Xing.

But Friday was an exception. Cheng Xing was working late, so Jiang Ciyi planned to stay late at the lab. Then the security desk called, saying someone was downstairs looking for her, claiming to be an acquaintance.

Over the phone, Jiang Ciyi heard Xu Zhaozhao’s voice, saying she wanted to talk.

Jiang Ciyi wasn’t interested and refused outright, but before hanging up, Xu Zhaozhao hurriedly said, “Not even interested in Wang Tingwan’s death?”

“I know who the real killer is,” Xu Zhaozhao said. “Come down, and we’ll talk.”

Jiang Ciyi didn’t fall for it. “If you know the killer, report it to the police, not me.”

“Telling you is the same,” Xu Zhaozhao said. “I just want to make a deal.”

“What?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

“Let’s meet in person,” Xu Zhaozhao said, pausing. “Jiang Ciyi, Lu Qi’s back in the country.”

Jiang Ciyi’s grip on the receiver stiffened. “So?”

“Let’s make a deal. I can protect you.” Xu Zhaozhao said. “I won’t let Lu Qi bully you again.”

Jiang Ciyi exhaled lightly. “I don’t need your help.”

She wasn’t the helpless high school girl anymore.

And now, it seemed, she wasn’t alone…

“What if I say I have the footage from the night Wang Tingwan was killed?” Xu Zhaozhao lowered her voice. “I won’t give it to the police. If we make a deal, you can take it to the station and get justice for Wang Tingwan.”

Jiang Ciyi’s resolve wavered. “Where do we meet?”

“Downstairs,” Xu Zhaozhao said. “I’m waiting at the café below.”

Five minutes later, Jiang Ciyi showed up.

Xu Zhaozhao sat by the café’s floor-to-ceiling window. Jiang Ciyi took the seat across from her, where a cappuccino with beautiful latte art waited.

Jiang Ciyi didn’t touch it, cutting straight to the point. “What’s the deal?”

“Divorce Cheng Xing,” Xu Zhaozhao said. “And I’ll give it to you.”

Jiang Ciyi: “…You don’t think divorcing her means you’ll marry her, do you?”

“None of your business,” Xu Zhaozhao said, her face dark. “Just say yes or no.”

Jiang Ciyi shook her head. “I won’t make a deal like that.”