Transmigrated As The Villainous Scumbag Wife Of A Disabled Tycoon - Chapter 82
82
As dusk fell, the rain finally stopped.
The old lady’s ashes were placed in the coffin, and it was sealed and buried. Everyone stood in front of the tombstone in silent mourning.
They were all dignified people; no one cried aloud.
Cheng Xing had attended rural funerals before, where people would wail and collapse in grief at the moment the coffin was sealed. But here, it was different—a solemn atmosphere prevailed, as if even the rain had come to see the old lady off.
Having lived a sharp and formidable life, she had ultimately turned to a handful of dust.
Uncle Cheng Kunqian was upset about the matter, but the outcome had been decided before the funeral began.
Thus, the entire ceremony proceeded harmoniously.
The ground in the cemetery was still damp. On the way back, Cheng Xing walked side by side with Cheng Zijing.
The surroundings were quiet, and Cheng Zijing suddenly spoke in a low voice, “Did you see her?”
Cheng Xing, lost in thought, was startled. “Second Brother, are you telling ghost stories?”
Cheng Zijing: “…”
The solemn mood was instantly shattered. Cheng Zijing’s lips curved into a slight smile before he regained his composure and said seriously, “I meant Su Manchun.”
Cheng Xing had been thinking about the past between Jiang Ciyi and Lu Qi, piecing together some guesses based on their current interactions.
But there was no way to confirm them with Jiang Ciyi.
She hadn’t expected Cheng Zijing to suddenly bring up Su Manchun. Cheng Xing paused. “What about her?”
What did Su Manchun have to do with this?
“Nothing,” Cheng Zijing said in a voice only they could hear. “No one sent her an invitation. She came uninvited.”
Cheng Xing understood—Cheng Zijing was giving her a heads-up.
Su Manchun was only close to Cheng Xing and had never even met the old lady. For her to return to the country specifically for the funeral made it clear to anyone with eyes who she was here for.
Cheng Xing said, “I blocked her a long time ago.”
Su Manchun had tried to add her back as a friend once, but Cheng Xing had rejected it.
She had also blocked all of Su Manchun’s phone numbers.
Since arriving here, Cheng Xing had been too busy.
The Cheng family’s affairs, Jiang Ciyi’s matters—everything lined up waiting for her to handle. And then there was that useless system that only caused her trouble.
As for the original owner’s messy romantic entanglements, she had no interest in taking them on.
“But the way she looks at you isn’t that simple,” Cheng Zijing said. “I had someone check—she dropped out of school.”
Cheng Xing: “?”
“Is she insane?” Cheng Xing nearly raised her voice. “She gave up everything to study abroad…”
Noticing Cheng Zijing’s furrowed brow, she cut herself off.
“Are you regretting it?” Cheng Zijing asked coldly.
Cheng Xing shook her head. “Not at all.”
Though the decision hadn’t been hers to make.
Her earlier comment was an instinctive expression of pity—purely for a woman’s wasted potential.
For Su Manchun, the best outcome would have been to leave the original owner behind, succeed in her studies, or even stay abroad.
Why had she suddenly returned?
Because of Cheng Xing’s abrupt change in attitude?
Cheng Xing could only think of this reason.
In the original story, even after marrying Jiang Ciyi, the original owner had kept an ambiguous connection with Su Manchun.
When Su Manchun was short on money, she’d send her funds.
When Su Manchun fell ill abroad, she’d book the next flight to be by her side.
When Su Manchun didn’t need her, she’d never think of her.
Anyone could see Su Manchun treated her like a backup, but the original owner was content to be her beck-and-call dog.
Yet, on the flip side, the original owner had chased Jiang Ciyi flamboyantly to spite Su Manchun, even marrying her.
It could be said that Su Manchun had never suffered any grievances at the original owner’s hands.
If Su Manchun wanted the moon, the original owner would find a way to get it for her.
But now, with a new soul in this body, Cheng Xing was someone who was decisive about emotions.
If something needed to be cut off, it had to be done cleanly, or it would only cause trouble.
So, the first thing she did was sever those complicated ties.
She hadn’t expected Su Manchun to drop out and return.
Throwing away a bright future—what was that if not madness?
But to Cheng Zijing, her words sounded like regret, as if she were saying that if Su Manchun hadn’t left to study abroad, she wouldn’t have married Jiang Ciyi in a fit of pique.
Now that Su Manchun was back, if she truly returned to reconcile…
The impact would be immeasurable.
A white moonlight was always a white moonlight.
Impossible to forget, impossible to let go.
Cheng Zijing glanced at her, hesitating to speak, as if unsure how to advise her.
A brother meddling in his sister’s love life didn’t seem quite right.
But Cheng Xing already understood his meaning and explained in a low voice, “I just feel she was on the right path before, working so hard to achieve what she wanted. Now, suddenly changing her mind and returning—it’s pointless.”
She wasn’t the original owner.
She wouldn’t act like a lovesick fool.
“You and her… I won’t ask.” Cheng Zijing said. “But Ciyi—you can’t let her down.”
Cheng Xing smiled. “Aren’t you being a bit formal? She’s my wife; of course, I won’t let her down.”
“Wanwan doesn’t have many friends. Ciyi is special to her,” Cheng Zijing said, glancing at her. “When you two got married, I was somewhat against it. Remember?”
Cheng Xing, having inherited the original owner’s memories, did remember.
At the time, Cheng Zijing had been somewhat listless, only lazily saying two words: “I object.”
The original owner had replied, “Objection overruled.”
Cheng Zijing probably knew his sister too well. She put on a respectable front but was reckless behind the scenes.
With the Cheng family backing her, as long as she didn’t cause a major scandal, it didn’t matter.
So, the family hadn’t disciplined her much.
Especially Guan Linmin, who doted on her excessively, fostering her spoiled nature.
When he or their eldest brother said anything, Guan Linmin would get upset.
Over time, Cheng Zijing stopped bothering.
But on this matter, his stance was firm.
If Wanfeng Pavilion was the legacy Wang Tingwan left him, Jiang Ciyi was the last piece of her he held onto.
As time passed since Wang Tingwan’s death, fewer and fewer people could talk to him about her.
Occasionally, he could only chat with Jiang Ciyi about her.
Wang Tingwan used to say that Ciyi was so wonderful that, if she weren’t already with Cheng Zijing, she’d have pursued Ciyi herself.
Back then, Cheng Zijing had even been jealous of Jiang Ciyi.
In contrast, Jiang Ciyi had always been calm and clear-sighted, seeing through everything. She’d puncture Wang Tingwan’s flattery with a single line: “You can still pursue me now. Are you willing to give up your handsome boyfriend?”
Wang Tingwan would laugh and cling to Cheng Zijing’s arm. “Not willing.”
Regarding Jiang Ciyi’s chosen marriage, Cheng Zijing had no standing to interfere.
Even if Wang Tingwan were alive, she’d only smile and see Ciyi off to her wedding.
But Cheng Zijing didn’t want—nor would he allow—Jiang Ciyi to be wronged.
Especially not by the Cheng family.
Otherwise, how could he face Wang Tingwan in the afterlife?
He feared his Wanwan would be so angry she wouldn’t even see him.
Cheng Zijing knew emotions couldn’t be controlled, and you couldn’t just stop liking someone.
So, he only warned Cheng Xing, “I’ll say it again: if one day you don’t like Ciyi anymore or don’t want to be with her, sit down, talk it out clearly, and divorce amicably. Don’t do anything disgusting.”
They got into the same car, where not a breath of air could penetrate the enclosed space.
In that confined environment, Cheng Zijing’s presence felt oppressive.
His voice was low and cold, carrying an air of if you hurt Jiang Ciyi, you won’t get off easily.
But—
Cheng Xing teased with a smile, “Second Brother, people might think Ciyi is your sister.”
“Isn’t she?” Cheng Zijing raised an eyebrow. “Both you and Ciyi are. But if you do anything to wrong her…”
He seemed to struggle to find a solution.
Cheng Xing picked up his words, “I know. I won’t let her down.”
“What about Su Manchun? Have you figured out how to handle her?” Cheng Zijing asked.
Cheng Xing shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll take it one step at a time.”
She was only speculating about Su Manchun’s return.
Maybe she came back for other reasons?
Cheng Xing said, “But don’t worry, I won’t get entangled with her again. The past is the past.”
“I hope so.” Cheng Zijing replied.
Cheng Xing had thought Cheng Zijing only brought up Su Manchun because he’d seen her during the day.
But when she returned to the banquet hall, she saw Su Manchun.
The Cheng family’s funeral banquet had ended, and most of the hosts and guests had left.
Yet Su Manchun was still there.
She sat calmly at a table, the tea brought by the maid half-drunk and cold.
It was as if she’d been waiting all afternoon.
From the rain’s start to its end, with the sky now dark and starless, even the moon hidden.
The only light came from the Cheng family’s lamps.
Cheng Xing glanced at her and planned to detour, but as she took another route upstairs to find Jiang Ciyi, Su Manchun blocked her at the staircase.
Su Manchun was about her height, one hand in the pocket of her black coat, her gaze carrying an indescribable tenderness.
And emotions Cheng Xing couldn’t decipher.
Cheng Xing didn’t speak.
The two stood in a silent standoff.
Until Su Manchun’s lips curved into a smile, seasoned by experience. “Long time no see, Xingxing.”
She greeted Cheng Xing familiarly, her smile revealing a dimple, sweet but at odds with her complex gaze.
Cheng Xing’s tone was flat. “We’re not that… close.”
Hearing this, Su Manchun didn’t get upset.
After all, having lived another life, the Su Manchun in this body was over forty, not the foolishly self-assured twenty-five-year-old.
She was more composed. “Really? I’m back, Xingxing.”
“I can see that,” Cheng Xing said. She was hungry, having barely eaten at the table earlier and standing in the cold wind all afternoon. Jiang Ciyi was likely in the same state, so she wanted to find her to have dinner together. Her tone wasn’t kind. “I’m not blind.”
Su Manchun’s smile froze, becoming unnatural.
“You’ve changed,” she said, openly studying her. “Much more mature.”
“Thanks,” Cheng Xing replied. “You haven’t changed.”
“Hm?”
“You still can’t get to the point.”
“…”
Cheng Xing shut her down and didn’t want to waste more time. “Anything else? If not, I’m leaving.”
She started up the stairs, but Su Manchun grabbed her arm.
Cheng Xing struggled but couldn’t break free, her brow furrowing.
“Miss Su, I’m married.” Cheng Xing said, emphasizing “you” through gritted teeth. “Please maintain a proper social distance.”
Su Manchun didn’t let go. “Does being married mean we can’t even talk?”
“Aren’t we talking now?” Cheng Xing retorted. “Can’t you understand human speech?”
Su Manchun hadn’t expected Cheng Xing to speak to her like this.
The original owner had always been gentle, careful not to upset her, but now Cheng Xing’s dislike was blatant—she genuinely found this person troublesome.
Su Manchun struggled to accept the shift but quickly adjusted. “Xingxing, are you still mad at me?”
“Mad about what?” Cheng Xing was exasperated, pulling her arm free. “We’re done. Miss Su, all I know now is six words: move forward and don’t look back.”
The implication was clear—their story was over.
“So I don’t even have the right to talk to you?” Su Manchun asked.
“…”
How was Cheng Xing supposed to answer that?
She had the right, of course. There was no real enmity between them.
Su Manchun had never made promises to the original owner—it was the original owner who’d foolishly chased after her like a lapdog.
But Cheng Xing had nothing to say to her now.
“We have nothing to talk about,” Cheng Xing said coldly. “Whatever path you choose has nothing to do with me.”
Unwilling to entangle further, she stepped past her, but after two steps, Su Manchun said deliberately, “What if I said I came back to marry you?”
Cheng Xing: “…?”
“What?” Cheng Xing was stunned.
In the original story, Su Manchun was the white moonlight who abandoned the original owner, living abroad and leaving her pining, never to meet again.
Su Manchun had chosen her own path.
What was this now?
Dropping out and returning, throwing away her bright future, just to reconcile with the original owner?
Cheng Xing wanted to shake her shoulders and yell, “Are you out of your mind?”
But when she turned and saw Su Manchun’s confident, triumphant smile, she felt a wave of nausea.
A visceral kind of disgust.
Su Manchun thrived on manipulating the original owner, keeping her devoted.
As long as she returned, the original owner would drop everything for her.
She was certain of it.
Cheng Xing despised that certainty.
When she’d first read Su Manchun’s character description, she’d thought her a pragmatic, career-driven woman who knew her place.
Unloved in the Su family, she knew marrying the original owner would only make her a dependent, with no real power in the Cheng family, rendering her even more invisible and disrespected.
So, she’d used the original owner’s feelings as a springboard to leap elsewhere.
A bit shameless, but understandable.
But now, Su Manchun’s actions made Cheng Xing think—Huh? Is she sick?
After leaving the original owner and finally grasping what she wanted, she threw it all away?
Even dropping out.
Utterly deranged.
“I want to marry you.” Su Manchun said. “Your proposal from before—I accept.”
Cheng Xing: “…”
Seeing her silence, Su Manchun chuckled. “Shocked?”
“No.” Cheng Xing said, barely controlling her expression.
She’d always considered herself calm, more mature than her peers, unflappable.
But now she realized she was far from it.
Su Manchun’s words were too shocking.
If she’d sent them as a text, Cheng Xing might not have been so stunned.
What shocked her was how calmly and confidently Su Manchun said it.
As if the world revolved around her.
Cheng Xing could never learn that kind of confidence, so her expression slipped.
Su Manchun asked, “What’s that look? Happy?”
“I kind of want to throw up.” Cheng Xing said.
Su Manchun: “…”
Cheng Xing adjusted her emotions, rubbing her face to regain composure. “Did you get a check-up before coming back?”
Su Manchun was taken aback. “A premarital check-up?”
Cheng Xing: “…”
“Not yet,” Su Manchun said. “We can do it before we get the license. You’ll need one too.”
Her words grew more outrageous.
But after the initial shock, Cheng Xing didn’t lose control again.
She was just internally reeling.
Speechless, she looked at Su Manchun, who maintained that confident posture.
As if this was a done deal.
Indeed, the original owner had been utterly devoted to her.
If the original owner was an untamable wild dog to others, in front of Su Manchun, she was a domesticated puppy, wagging its tail without needing a bone.
So Su Manchun was this confident.
But—
“No,” Cheng Xing couldn’t help laughing. “Did you come back to get me thrown in jail?”
When someone’s words are slightly confusing, they might make you angry.
But when they’re utterly absurd, they’re just funny.
Cheng Xing was laughing out of exasperation.
Su Manchun tilted her head, her sweet, innocent face clashing with her calculating eyes, looking awkward.
In a saccharine voice, she said, “How could you think that of me?”
“Because you’re trying to make me commit bigamy,” Cheng Xing said. “It’s not what I think—you’re shamelessly doing it.”
Su Manchun’s lips tightened, but she quickly recovered, smiling. “But you proposed to me first. I’m agreeing—where’s the problem?”
“You said it yourself: that was then. I’m married now.”
“You don’t love her,” Su Manchun said confidently. “You can divorce her, and we’ll marry.”
Cheng Xing: “…”
“Su Manchun,” Cheng Xing said coldly, “I asked about a check-up because I want to know if you’re mentally ill.”
Su Manchun’s expression shifted slightly but soon recovered, and she smiled. “Sorry, I’m not.”
“Then you should check. You’re clearly sick.” Cheng Xing said.
“I just want to marry you.”
“I’m already married.”
“You don’t love her,” Su Manchun said again, certain. “You married her to spite me, didn’t you? I’m back now—divorce her, Xingxing.”
Cheng Xing’s gaze shifted from exasperation to envy.
She envied this unstable mental state.
If she had it, she’d go crazy on that useless system every day.
But sadly, she still had her pride.
Cheng Xing exhaled lightly. “Who said I don’t love her?”
“Isn’t it true?” Su Manchun said. “Can love change that fast? What kind of love is that?”
Cheng Xing: “…”
Su Manchun’s confidence could easily trap someone into justifying themselves.
For a moment, Cheng Xing even doubted if she’d really changed.
Fortunately, she hadn’t fallen into the trap from the start.
She wasn’t the original owner and wouldn’t get tangled in debates about love.
Cheng Xing said coldly, “Had enough? If you’re done, leave.”
She turned and walked upstairs, not looking back.
Her footsteps echoed on the stairs in the silent house.
Su Manchun’s voice rang out behind her. “You won’t have a good ending with her, Cheng Xing.”
Cheng Xing paused, turning back with a mocking look. “A curse.”
Su Manchun: “…?”
As Cheng Xing went upstairs, she saw Jiang Ciyi at the corner, holding a book.
She didn’t know how long Jiang Ciyi had been there, but her slender neck turned slightly, her gaze meeting Su Manchun’s downstairs.
In that instant, Su Manchun froze.
Jiang Ciyi’s eyes were like unmelting ice, casting a chill with a fleeting glance.
Su Manchun didn’t linger. She’d said what she came to say.
But Cheng Xing had changed.
Jiang Ciyi was the long-lost daughter of the Gu family. Once they reclaimed her, she’d be showered with glory, untouchable.
Su Manchun had no reason to provoke her. She only nodded slightly and left.
Jiang Ciyi watched her leave, then turned to Cheng Xing.
Their eyes met, and Cheng Xing walked toward her.
Jiang Ciyi’s fingers gripped the corner of the book, creasing the page, her fingertips damp, though her face showed nothing.
Cheng Xing asked, “You heard everything?”
Jiang Ciyi said, “Roughly.”
The Cheng family members returned gradually for the family dinner to discuss the future of the Cheng Corporation.
Cheng Xing first took Jiang Ciyi back to the lounge. In the quiet space, she said, “I have no intention of divorcing. That was all her delusion.”
“Hm,” Jiang Ciyi responded faintly, handing her a piece of crispy candy. “Hungry?”
Cheng Xing was puzzled. “You’re not going to ask me?”
“Would asking change anything?” Jiang Ciyi countered.
“It would,” Cheng Xing said.
Jiang Ciyi replied, “You already gave the answer earlier.”
Jiang Ciyi was too calm, and Cheng Xing felt too embarrassed to dwell on the issue.
Saying more would make her seem guilty.
After eating the candy, Cheng Xing still felt uneasy.
Though Jiang Ciyi hadn’t asked about her and Su Manchun, since returning, she’d been cold and distant, barely speaking.
But this wasn’t the place for such a conversation, especially on such a day.
So Cheng Xing held back.
After the dinner, Cheng Xing drove Jiang Ciyi back to Tinglan Mansion.
The car moved through the traffic. Jianggang at night, still damp from the rain, was vibrant with dazzling lights, towering landmarks standing tall in the city center, and bustling crowds along the roads.
It was a stark contrast to the cold silence inside the car.
Unable to stand the quiet, eerie atmosphere, Cheng Xing turned on the car’s music at a red light.
It happened to be the OST from Spring Court Evening, with Gu Qingfeng’s low voice singing:
“Falling leaves drift, wind and rain howl, the past cannot return
Coming and going, hesitant to return, in the end, it’s a miss…”
The classical melody instantly pulled one into the world of Spring Court Evening.
With music, the drive home was less unbearable.
Back home, Cheng Xing wanted to find a chance to clear things up with Jiang Ciyi. Their situation was different now.
Having confessed her feelings before, she didn’t want any tension between them.
Their time together was already limited.
But until they washed up and settled in the room, Cheng Xing couldn’t find the right moment.
When she came out after washing up, Jiang Ciyi was lying in bed, the projector playing Spring Court Evening.
It was a middle episode.
Influenced by Jiang Ciyi, Cheng Xing had watched the show and recognized the scene.
It was the episode where the female lead’s white moonlight narrowly escaped death, only to return and find the female lead at her wedding.
Guests filled the hall, red silk adorned the mansion, and the female lead, in her wedding dress, was marrying another.
But the white moonlight only stood at the door, and the wedding fell apart.
The second female lead became a laughingstock.
Cheng Xing knew Jiang Ciyi had a knot in her heart that hadn’t unraveled.
Since she hadn’t found the right moment to speak, she wasn’t in a rush. She took out the silver needles, disinfected them, and sat by the bed with practiced ease.
No matter the tension between her and Jiang Ciyi, the massage and acupuncture couldn’t stop.
Cheng Xing tied up her hair, lifted the blanket, and saw Jiang Ciyi’s legs neatly together, clad in loose silver-gray silk pajama pants.
As usual, she rolled the pant legs up to the thighs.
The slender, pale legs were striking, no matter how many times Cheng Xing saw them. They were like a work of art.
Lowering her gaze, Cheng Xing steadied herself, warmed the medicinal oil in her palms, and began massaging Jiang Ciyi’s legs.
Even though Jiang Ciyi had no sensation in her legs, they retained elasticity from the recent accident. Cheng Xing’s warm hands moved from her thighs downward, pressing each acupuncture point with care and devotion.
As she massaged one leg at a time, they naturally parted, leaving a hand’s-width gap between them.
The TV on the projector continued, Gu Qingfeng’s voice soothing even without subtitles.
Cheng Xing worked down to Jiang Ciyi’s ankles, pressing the acupuncture points firmly, releasing them periodically.
Jiang Ciyi’s gaze drifted to her hands.
The next moment, as if sensing it, Cheng Xing looked up, their eyes meeting.
She found her opening. “Are you upset?”
Jiang Ciyi shook her head, her expression still cold.
“Then why aren’t you talking?” Cheng Xing asked while massaging.
“I’m in a bad mood,” Jiang Ciyi said.
“Because of Lu Qi?”
“Yes and no.”
Jiang Ciyi’s answers remained vague.
Cheng Xing tried again. “Because of Su Manchun?”
“No,” Jiang Ciyi said firmly.
Cheng Xing had been certain, thinking from her perspective. If someone suddenly told Jiang Ciyi they wanted to marry her, Cheng Xing would think they were crazy—and it would hurt.
Even knowing the plot was unchangeable, that Jiang Ciyi would end up with Shen Qingxue, becoming Jianggang’s brightest star with a loving partner.
But right now, the one by her side was Cheng Xing.
Cheng Xing didn’t know what mindset she held with Jiang Ciyi.
Avoidance wasn’t her style, nor was cowardice.
She might not be brave enough to conquer the world, but she could face her own heart.
It was simple—she liked Jiang Ciyi and wanted to be with her.
She’d struggled and hesitated but ultimately chose to follow her heart.
She didn’t dare think about a future with Jiang Ciyi, so she focused on the present, wanting happiness for both of them.
She could bring Jiang Ciyi warmth and love, help her lower her guard, ease her past pain, and heal her, even a little.
That was enough for Cheng Xing.
As for what came next, she couldn’t figure it out, didn’t want to, and didn’t dare to.
She only knew that if fear of an ending stopped her from starting, she’d regret it.
Moving forward meant regret, stepping back meant regret—so why not try?
It was like a brief love story.
So, during this time, Cheng Xing wanted Jiang Ciyi to be happy.
More than anyone else.
If winning this game meant diving in fully, Cheng Xing was the frontrunner.
She was the most invested.
But now, Jiang Ciyi denied being upset.
From what Cheng Xing knew, Jiang Ciyi wasn’t one to bottle up her feelings, especially not with her.
So, she genuinely wasn’t upset.
Then why wasn’t she?
Cheng Xing’s thoughts wandered but quickly snapped back.
Maybe Jiang Ciyi just didn’t get upset over such things.
“A’Ci,” Cheng Xing’s voice was muffled, lacking the bravado she’d shown with Su Manchun. “Why aren’t you upset about this? What if Su Manchun insists on taking me from you?”
“Taking which you?” Jiang Ciyi asked.
Cheng Xing froze, stunned.
“The current me,” she answered.
Jiang Ciyi was too sharp, able to dissect timelines and pinpoint the core issue.
“Would you let her take you?” Jiang Ciyi asked.
“Of course not.” Cheng Xing said.
“The old you would have,” Jiang Ciyi said. “That’s the difference. So, I don’t need to be upset.”
Her indifference stung Cheng Xing, who blurted out, “What if the current me could be taken?”
“If you can be taken, you were never mine. We’d divorce.” Jiang Ciyi said firmly.
“…”
For some reason, Cheng Xing’s heart ached, like a small hammer had struck it.
It left a sour, bitter feeling.
She switched to the other leg, massaging silently.
Jiang Ciyi turned off the projector.
The room fell quiet, save for the faint sound of palms against skin.
After the massage, Cheng Xing quickly applied the acupuncture, and neither spoke.
Normally, to lighten Jiang Ciyi’s mood or grow closer, Cheng Xing would find something to chat about.
But tonight, she wasn’t in the mood.
After removing the needles and pulling down Jiang Ciyi’s pajama pants, she washed her hands and returned.
As usual, the room was dim, lit only by Jiang Ciyi’s bedside lamp.
Jiang Ciyi lay flat, hands on her abdomen, looking asleep.
But Cheng Xing knew her breathing wasn’t that of someone asleep.
She lifted a corner of the blanket and got into bed, lying flat like Jiang Ciyi, adjusting her breathing, wanting to say something.
But after a long day, her wrists ached, her mind was foggy, and within a few breaths, she was dozing off.
In a half-dream state, someone approached, and her hand was grasped.
Cheng Xing jolted awake, finding Jiang Ciyi beside her.
The bed was large, and Cheng Xing had been at the edge, with space for two people between them. But now, Jiang Ciyi was pressed close, the blanket trapped beneath her.
Cheng Xing licked her lips, hesitating.
“I’m not upset,” Jiang Ciyi said first. “I’m just… a little sad.”
Cheng Xing was surprised. “Hm?”
It was the first time Jiang Ciyi had used the word “sad” with her.
Jiang Ciyi was harder to reach than Cheng Xing had thought.
At first, she believed being kind was enough, but she later realized Jiang Ciyi was deeply guarded.
She saw everything clearly, needing no comfort or concern.
She seemed strong, unbreakable.
In truth, she was softer and more fragile than anyone.
But she never said it.
She always acted indifferent, hiding everything behind her cool eyes.
Whenever Cheng Xing tried to cheer her up or tease her, she pretended not to know.
But now, she admitted she was sad.
Cheng Xing wanted to ask more, but Jiang Ciyi covered her mouth.
Her soft palm brushed Cheng Xing’s lips, cool to the touch.
Cheng Xing’s throat tightened, her body warming, her heart racing.
Jiang Ciyi didn’t look at her, withdrawing her hand after ensuring she understood.
Her palm rested on Cheng Xing’s wrist, fingers pressing like playing a piano, her voice low.
In the quiet room, with their closeness, it felt like lovers’ whispers.
“I’m just sad that when she came, I didn’t have the courage to say, ‘Her wife is me. She’s mine,’” Jiang Ciyi said. “I’m not certain you love me.”
Cheng Xing looked down, seeing only Jiang Ciyi’s dark hair, her expression hidden.
“You asked what I’d do if you were taken,” Jiang Ciyi paused. “I think I’d be helpless. I could only let you go, because you’d only be taken if you wanted to.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Cheng Xing asked.
“What if I’m taken? Would you take me back?” Jiang Ciyi asked.
Cheng Xing froze, without an answer.
Probably not.
That question shouldn’t even exist between them.
Cheng Xing closed her eyes, hugging her. “I hope you’d take me back, because I’m yours now.”
Jiang Ciyi nestled into her neck. “You didn’t answer my question.”
For the first time, Cheng Xing seriously considered a future with Jiang Ciyi.
A vague, improbable future that existed only because she’d fallen for her.
After a long, long time, so long she thought Jiang Ciyi had fallen asleep, Cheng Xing whispered, “If you didn’t want to, I’d take you back.”
Jiang Ciyi’s fingers poked her chest, each word deliberate. “In what capacity?”
It was a profound question.
Five simple words, but Cheng Xing knew Jiang Ciyi was asking for an answer.
An answer to this period of their lives.
They slept in the same bed, she lifted her pajama pants, occasionally kissed her forehead, and sometimes kissed in moments of desire.
After long kisses, they restrained themselves, as if only a thin layer of paper remained unpierced.
But they both played dumb.
Jiang Ciyi likely still didn’t fully trust her, and she didn’t dare promise her a future.
But now, Jiang Ciyi was done playing dumb.
So, she poked her chest, asking—in what capacity?
In other words—who are you to me?
Jiang Ciyi was always clear-headed, distinguishing the current Cheng Xing from the old one.
Before, she’d thought, difference or not, she wouldn’t get lost in it.
When their agreement ended, she’d divorce gracefully.
But today, at that tense table, she instinctively linked herself with Cheng Xing.
They felt like a unit.
Her words gave her courage to sit tall and face Lu Qi.
But at the corner, seeing Su Manchun, she gripped the wheelchair tightly.
She didn’t dare step forward, only watching quietly.
Because she had no standing to say, “How do you know she doesn’t love me?”
In that moment, Jiang Ciyi clearly heard her heart say, “You’ve fallen, Jiang Ciyi.”
Now, Cheng Xing was silent for a long time.
Jiang Ciyi waited quietly, her breathing slowing.
Cheng Xing closed her eyes, kissing her forehead solemnly. “As your lover.”