Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 69

69

No one expected Jiang Ciyi to act this way.

After all, deeply ingrained in the Chinese psyche is the notion: “The dead are to be respected.”

For centuries, the phrase “they’re already dead” has been used to suggest that some matters can be downplayed or dismissed entirely. No matter how wicked a person was or how heinous their actions, once they pass away, it’s as if nothing ever happened.

If you hold a grudge or harbor hatred, bystanders will urge you to let it go. If you persist, they’ll accuse you of being petty.

It’s easy to say when the knife doesn’t fall on your own skin, so you don’t feel the pain.

Jiang Ciyi is no saint. She doesn’t see herself as noble or righteous, but she’s also not a pushover to be manipulated at will.

She wanted to let it go.

As long as no one bothered her or disrupted her peaceful life, she could let it go.

After all, Xu Zhaozhao is dead, and she survived.

But that doesn’t mean others can ignore the pain she endured, shift the blame of the perpetrator onto her, and force her, the victim, to bear insults and disgrace.

Perhaps ten years ago, she could have endured it.

At sixteen, Jiang Ciyi was insecure and timid, walking with her head down, trying to stand out while still conforming to the ignorance of the crowd.

Even so, she couldn’t navigate her youth smoothly.

Now, at twenty-six, Jiang Ciyi has finally regained her confidence. She has skills, a way to support herself, and most importantly, no vulnerabilities.

She no longer fears teachers calling her parents to the office, where she’d stand, toes curling in embarrassment, muttering, “Teacher, I’m sorry, my parents can’t come.”

Now, she may still lack powerful backing, but without weaknesses, she’s become fearless.

It’s just one life, after all. Even a crazed Xu Zhaozhao couldn’t take it from her. Why should she bow to mere words?

What did she do wrong?

After much thought, she realized she hadn’t done anything wrong.

So, she refuses to accept anyone’s condemnation.

The glass frame of the portrait shatters, scattering shards everywhere. Everyone instinctively steps back, their eyes collectively turning to Cheng Xing and Jiang Ciyi.

Cheng Xing’s hand rests on the edge of Jiang Ciyi’s wheelchair. Even after her bold action, Cheng Xing shows no intention of letting go, clearly taking her side.

The younger members of the Cheng family, who used to hang out with Cheng Xing and Xu Zhaozhao, are stunned. Back then, Xu Zhaozhao rode on Cheng Xing’s coattails, always addressing her as “Sister Xing” and getting away with it. Cheng Xing indulged her, as long as she didn’t cross any major lines.

And Cheng Xing, well, she never had many principles.

On the night of Cheng Xing’s wedding, everyone gathered, discussing what would become of Xu Zhaozhao.

Someone joked, “Back when Su Manchun was around, Xu Zhaozhao stuck to Cheng Xing like glue. She’s cunning. With someone like Miss Cheng, what’s wrong with keeping a few lovers on the side? Surely she doesn’t need to care about her wife’s opinion.”

But someone else asked, “Then why not just marry Xu Zhaozhao?”

Laughter erupted, and the consensus was: a wife is less appealing than a mistress, a mistress less than a secret lover, and a secret lover less than one you can’t have.¹

For someone like Miss Cheng, being married to her was far less desirable than being her ambiguous fling.

Back then, Miss Cheng was wild, frivolous, and reckless, embodying the worst of human nature.

So Xu Zhaozhao played her cards well, staying as Miss Cheng’s backup.

And Miss Cheng, as expected, treated her as such.

No one could have foreseen things escalating to this point.

The younger generation hadn’t gathered with Cheng Xing in a while. The once-constant presence at dinners and drinking parties had seemingly reformed after marriage.

To be precise, it started after that party at her place.

No one could get Miss Cheng to come out anymore.

So, the younger crowd watched this scene with a mix of fear and excitement.

How long had it been since the Cheng family had such a spectacle?

Some distant relatives secretly hoped for a brawl.

The atmosphere in the mourning hall was colder than the torrential rain outside.

The downpour drenched every blade of grass and tree in the old mansion, yet even in winter, it didn’t feel desolate. Wreaths sent by relatives lined the courtyard, swaying in the fierce wind but stubbornly staying upright.

Suddenly, one fell over.

Someone in the crowd muttered, “The portrait’s broken.”

As if a pause button was released, the silent hall buzzed again. Collective breaths mingled, easing the oppressive tension.

But no one dared speak, fearing they’d become the target.

“Jiang Ciyi!” The old lady finally snapped out of her shock, clutching her chest as she roared, “What are you doing?!”

“Grandmother,” Jiang Ciyi called softly.

The old lady immediately snapped, “You don’t deserve to call me that!”

“Then, Madam Cheng,” Jiang Ciyi said after a moment’s thought, her tone calm. “I told you over the phone—if you insist on me coming, I can’t guarantee what I might do.”

The old lady shouted, “She’s already dead! And it’s because of you! How dare you commit such an outrageous act in her mourning hall? Are you even human?”

At her age, even a little exertion made her neck wrinkles stretch, her frail frame revealing veins, her voice hoarse as if she were screaming to defend Xu Zhaozhao’s honor.

But every word was a moral shackle.

Jiang Ciyi didn’t get angry. She found it amusing.

Suppressing a smile, she said flatly, “First, she didn’t die because of me. On the contrary, I was the one who lay in a hospital bed, unconscious, teetering between life and death because of her. I barely woke up, only to be summoned to pay respects to an attempted murderer. I’m not comfortable with that.”

Her tone was even, but in the quiet hall, every word landed clearly in the ears of the onlookers.

It carried an undeniable authority.

Her maturity, far beyond her years and laced with professional gravitas, commanded respect. Someone in the crowd nodded unconsciously, only to be nudged by a companion who hissed, “Are you looking for trouble?”

The person snapped back to attention, adopting a serious expression to continue watching the drama, wary of catching the old lady’s ire.

Jiang Ciyi wasn’t done. After a pause, she continued, “Second, I don’t think what I did was outrageous. I never disobeyed my elders when they were alive. At their funerals, I knelt respectfully. I’ve attended other funerals with a kind heart. But Xu Zhaozhao’s funeral? Even if I smashed her coffin and scattered her ashes right now, I wouldn’t think it’s too much.”

The crowd was stunned.

The old lady was momentarily dazed, but having weathered many storms in her long life, she quickly regained her composure.

“Twisting right and wrong, spouting nonsense,” she said coldly. “Jiang Ciyi, what gives you the right to step into the Cheng family’s door? Without the Cheng family, you’re nothing!”

“Grandmother,” Cheng Xing interjected, unable to stay silent. “Ciyi is someone I care about. You’ve gone too far.”

Before coming, Jiang Ciyi had rested with her eyes closed the entire way. Before getting out of the car, she told Cheng Xing not to speak unless necessary.

Cheng Xing knew Jiang Ciyi was protecting her. As the victim, Jiang Ciyi could stir up a storm in the mourning hall without much consequence, especially since they were soon to divorce.

But Cheng Xing was different. As a Cheng, she was already at a disadvantage.

Still, Cheng Xing couldn’t stand by while others bullied Jiang Ciyi.

She’d wanted to speak up several times, but Jiang Ciyi had stopped her.

Jiang Ciyi was smart, independent, and articulate, her words carrying weight even while weakened by illness.

But Cheng Xing felt that staying silent was too cowardly.

“If you hadn’t liked her, Zhaozhao wouldn’t have died!” The old lady turned her anger on Cheng Xing. “Cheng Xing, you’re no saint either!”

In her fury, the old lady lashed out, “A leech, living off others’ charity, nothing but a parasite…”

“Grandmother!”

“Mom!”

The shouts came in unison, cutting off her tirade.

The first came from Cheng Zimo and Cheng Zijing.

The second from Cheng Kunshan and Guan Linmin.

Guan Linmin, in particular, strode to Cheng Xing and Jiang Ciyi’s side, her protective stance clear. “Mom, don’t be so harsh. Leaving some dignity for others is leaving dignity for yourself.”

The implication was clear—don’t squander your last shred of decency in old age.

The old lady’s eyes reddened as she glared at Guan Linmin, then scanned the room, looking at Cheng Zijing and Cheng Zimo, who had defended Cheng Xing, with a mix of disappointment and frustration.

After a long pause, just when everyone thought the drama was over, the old lady’s voice dropped ominously. “Do you know that the one lying in that coffin is your real daughter?!”

A deafening thunderclap roared as torrential rain poured down, splashing so hard it stung.

Wreaths in the courtyard toppled one after another, blown about by the fierce wind.

Bodyguards braved the downpour, struggling to upright the wreaths, only for them to fall again.

The scene was almost comical.

But nothing was as absurd as the old lady’s words.

Guan Linmin’s lips twitched. “Mom, what do you mean?”

“Grandmother,” Cheng Zimo, now a pillar of the family, stepped forward. “Some things shouldn’t be said carelessly.”

“What am I saying carelessly?” The old lady closed her eyes and sighed. “I shouldn’t have…”

“If you know you shouldn’t, then don’t say it,” Guan Linmin interrupted, glancing briefly at Cheng Xing before looking away. “With so many people here, aren’t you afraid of being a laughingstock?”

“What’s left for the Cheng family to be mocked for? This funeral is already the biggest joke,” the old lady said mournfully.

The wind howled, and the cold rain fell. Everyone held their breath, waiting for her to continue.

But the old lady suddenly looked up at the sky. “Even the heavens are crying out for Zhaozhao’s injustice.”

She choked back a sob, then gasped and fainted.

After the chaos in the mourning hall, Guan Linmin, eager to resolve the mess, pushed through objections and quickly had Xu Zhaozhao buried.

At the gravesite, she even bowed. “As the saying goes, ‘rest in peace.’ So rest, and don’t cause any more trouble.”

But upon returning to the hospital, the old lady stirred up trouble again.

She spilled everything she hadn’t said in the mourning hall. “Zhaozhao was your daughter, Cheng Xing. Cheng Xing is a fake. She’s Xu Fansheng’s daughter. Back then… you gave birth to your daughters a day apart. The doctor said yours was premature and might not survive. You wanted a daughter so badly. Kunshan and I decided to swap your daughter with Xu Fansheng’s.”

“Xu Fansheng needed the Cheng family’s help at the time, and our conditions were far better than the Xu family’s. He agreed without hesitation.”

“This, Kunshan knew about too.”

Her words were explosive, one after another.

The funeral was over, and the extended family had dispersed.

Only three families remained in the hospital room, with just the younger uncle and aunt present from the other two. They quietly slipped out after hearing the beginning, knowing better than to get involved.

Cheng Zimo and Cheng Zijing’s faces were grim, and even the usually kind Guan Linmin looked furious.

The old lady pointed at Cheng Kunshan. “Tell me, Kunshan, isn’t Zhaozhao your daughter?”

Guan Linmin’s eyes blazed as she turned to him. “Cheng Kunshan!”

Her shout was followed by a slap that no one could stop. It landed squarely on Cheng Kunshan’s face.

After years of marriage, their relationship had been harmonious, if not passionate. To be slapped by his wife in front of their sons in middle age was unthinkable. Cheng Kunshan was livid. “Why won’t you let me explain?”

“No matter what you say, can it change the fact that you swapped my daughter?” Guan Linmin’s voice broke with sobs. “Why would you do this? She was our daughter.”

“Didn’t I bring her back to raise later?” Cheng Kunshan said. “You were so weak after giving birth. If that child had died, you might’ve gone with her. You wanted a daughter, so we raised one. Why make a fuss about it?”

“She was still my daughter. Why didn’t you ask me before swapping her?”

“I did it for your own good.”

“Go to hell!”

Guan Linmin couldn’t hold back her curse. “You and your mother teamed up to deceive me all these years. I can’t take it. I want a divorce.”

“It’s been so many years,” Cheng Kunshan said. “I don’t expect you to understand, but you should accept it. We still have a daughter.”

“Cheng Xing isn’t your daughter,” the old lady said coldly. “Zhaozhao was. The Zhaozhao you all neglected was the real one.”

Guan Linmin wanted to curse her, but she gasped and fainted.

Cheng Xing and Jiang Ciyi went straight from the mourning hall to the hospital. Even the doctors who accompanied them were shaken, downing three cups of hot water to calm their nerves.

In the hospital room, the two sat in silence, staring at the rain outside.

Jiang Ciyi said it was the biggest rain Jianggang had seen in a decade.

It looked like the sky was falling.

Cheng Xing smiled. “It won’t fall. The sun will rise tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after, or the day after that. One day, the sun will come as promised.”

Having vented her anger, Jiang Ciyi felt at peace.

After hearing Cheng Xing’s words, she suddenly asked, “Do you love reading?”

“Not really,” Cheng Xing said. “I read a lot in high school, but when I got to…”

She stopped short of saying “university.”

The original Cheng Xing never went to university.

Cheng Xing gave an awkward smile. “Anyway, it’s been a long time since I read.”

“Why did you like reading in high school?” Jiang Ciyi didn’t dwell on her slip, sensing there was another version of her story, as if she’d lived a different life.

Cheng Xing was always evasive, and Jiang Ciyi didn’t bother to call her out.

Sometimes, illusions are beautiful. The world looks prettier through a bubble, with rainbows dancing in the light.

But once the bubble bursts, the beauty is gone.

Cheng Xing, unaware that Jiang Ciyi saw through her, thought about why she loved reading back then.

Probably because of a pen pal she wanted to impress.

In youth, vanity drives you to learn things just to show off.

Back then, provocation worked best.

Now, she still had some of that defiance, but it paled compared to before.

The term “pen pal” felt juvenile now. What was once romantic lost its charm when the internet turned the world into a global village.

Like paper money in an era of digital payments, it felt out of place.

To sound normal, Cheng Xing simplified, “A friend loved reading, so I followed suit. At first, it was boring, but showing off and getting her praise was fun.”

“Was it Su Manchun?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

Cheng Xing paused, then refuted, “How could it be?”

How could her “Wa Pian” be Su Manchun?

Their worlds didn’t even connect.

“My friend was far, far away,” Cheng Xing said.

Jiang Ciyi froze, assuming she meant the friend had passed away, and decided it was a sensitive topic. She brushed it off with a casual “Okay.”

She scrolled through her phone, where Zheng Shuqing had sent a barrage of messages, saying she wanted to visit that afternoon.

Jiang Ciyi reassured her, sending a voice message telling her to come when the weather cleared.

But Zheng Shuqing couldn’t wait.

With no other choice, Jiang Ciyi made an excuse, saying the Cheng family had too many people in the hospital, and things were still hectic.

Zheng Shuqing asked, “Will the Chengs bully you?”

“With Cheng Xing here, they won’t.” Jiang Ciyi said.

Zheng Shuqing finally relented.

But soon after, she sent a link about a book club event at Jianggang’s Banshan Bookstore.

Jiang Ciyi sent a question mark. Zheng Shuqing quickly retracted the message: [Oops, meant to send this to my editor. Sent it to you by mistake.]

Jiang Ciyi asked what the book club was about. Zheng Shuqing explained that it involved a dozen or so people sitting together, sharing a book they’d recently read, summarizing its plot, and discussing their thoughts.

Zheng Shuqing invited her: [Wanna go?]

She listed benefits: building a reading habit, meeting new people, and recommending favorite books.

Jiang Ciyi told her to hold on and turned to Cheng Xing. “Want to go to a book club?”

She explained the event’s format, but Cheng Xing asked, “Are you going?”

“I have work.” Jiang Ciyi said.

“I have work too.” Cheng Xing replied. “But these things are usually held at night or on weekends, right?”

Jiang Ciyi checked, and it was true.

Cheng Xing said, “If you go, I’ll go. If you don’t, I won’t either.”

“Why?” Jiang Ciyi fiddled with her phone, her eyes lowered, her voice soft but puzzled. “You don’t have to follow me everywhere.”

“I want to.” Cheng Xing said.

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt again, A’Ci.”

Cheng Xing’s gentle call, using a nickname no one had ever used, made Jiang Ciyi feel her name could sound so tender.

She glanced up but quickly looked away when her heart skipped a beat, as if struck by something. Her throat felt dry, but she asked, “Can you really keep me from getting hurt by staying with me?”

“At least if I’m by your side, I’ll take the hit first.” Cheng Xing said.

“Why?” Jiang Ciyi’s voice softened further, almost imperceptibly.

Her walls of doubt crumbled under Cheng Xing’s gentle call.

“I don’t know what you want,” Jiang Ciyi said.

“I want you to be okay,” Cheng Xing said. “As long as you’re okay, I have no other wishes.”

Jiang Ciyi didn’t know how to respond.

Was that a confession?

It didn’t seem like one, yet it did.

“Do you say that to everyone?” she asked.

“No,” Cheng Xing said with a helpless smile. “What do you take me for? I only say this to you.”

“You always mix truth with lies. I can’t tell what’s real,” Jiang Ciyi said.

“I rarely lie to you,” Cheng Xing said. “I might hide things, but I don’t lie.”

“Then what are you hiding?” Jiang Ciyi seized the chance to ask.

Cheng Xing chuckled. “Trying to trick me? If I’m hiding something, why would I tell you?”

Jiang Ciyi pouted. “Boring.”

“Yes, I’m boring.” Cheng Xing said. “Let’s go to the book club together. We can be boring together.”

Jiang Ciyi paused. “So you only want to go with me?”

Cheng Xing nodded. “Obviously. One person being boring is just boring. A group being boring is lively.”

“And two people being boring?” Jiang Ciyi asked.

Cheng Xing thought for a moment. “Romantic, maybe?”

Jiang Ciyi said, “Then I like two people being boring.”

Outside, the rain poured. In the hospital room, the two chatted aimlessly about trivial things, ultimately deciding to attend the book club together.

Soon after, Cheng Xing learned Guan Linmin had fainted in the old lady’s room.

When she visited Guan Linmin’s room, everyone’s eyes were heavy and guarded, as if hiding something.

Cheng Xing teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t tell me Mom fainted because of what Grandmother said in the mourning hall?”

Their gazes grew heavier.

Cheng Xing’s smile froze. Pointing to herself, she said, “So, I’m really not Cheng Xing?”

“You are Cheng Xing,” Cheng Zijing said, ruffling her hair. “Why would you give up your own name?”

“But I’m not a Cheng, right?” Cheng Xing asked lightly.

Her heart sank, but she was prepared.

Inwardly, she cursed the system a million times.

Others who transmigrated into books had endless luck. She got a hellish start, thinking she at least had the status of a young miss, only to find out she was a villainous cannon fodder in a legal drama.

If this were a game, she’d delete her account and quit.

But it wasn’t. She had to keep smiling and carry on.

After some self-soothing, she smiled at her brothers. “It’s okay. But is Xu Zhaozhao really your sister?”

“You’re our sister too.” Cheng Zijing said, nudging the silent Cheng Zimo. “Right, Big Brother?”

Cheng Zimo, stone-faced, grunted, “Mm.”

Cheng Xing shrugged. “Alright, no need to comfort me. It is what it is. I’ll wait for everyone’s decision.”

“When Mom wakes up, whether I stay or go, I’m fine with it.” She patted Cheng Zijing’s shoulder. “Second Brother, don’t make things hard for everyone. I’ve done so many wrong things before. This is what I deserve. Besides, you’re all high achievers, and I’m the only failure. It never made sense. But now, it does.”

This damned world and its absurd plot. If someone claimed she was Nüwa now, she’d just clap and say, “Wow, awesome.”

Being hurt once feels unfair, but after too many blows, it’s just laughable.

Cheng Xing was now proving to the world how big her heart was.

But the next day, when she met Xu Jingcheng at a café outside the hospital and saw Su Jiaming, she thought she was dreaming.

She shook her head, left the café, and re-entered, only to see Su Jiaming, dressed in a suit, sitting beside Xu Jingcheng.

That face—she’d never forget it in her lifetime.

Her childhood betrothed, her family’s chosen fiancé.

And the mastermind behind the fatal car accident.

Yet here he was, right in front of her.

Cheng Xing walked to the table, greeted Xu Jingcheng, and impatiently asked, “Who’s this?”

She thought she was composed, but her hands gripped the table, her legs trembling. Xu Jingcheng introduced him grandly. “This is the pharmaceutical company rep I told you about. I brought him from Jing City. He wants to expand his business to Jianggang, so I’m showing him around.”

“Yes, Miss Xu brought me.” Su Jiaming said with a teasing smile, his tone affectionate, as if he and Xu Jingcheng were close. He extended his hand to Cheng Xing. “Hi, I’m Su Jiaming. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“You don’t know me?” Cheng Xing asked, her brow furrowed, her eyes brimming with barely contained hatred.

Su Jiaming blinked, confused. “Should I know you?”