Chapter 214: After Awakening, Leng Wanqiu Wished She Were Dead

Leng Wanqiu stood rooted to the spot like a wooden puppet.

Motionless, save for a sharp pain radiating from her heart.

When a person is overwhelmed by grief, the heart truly aches—this is no exaggeration, but a very real physiological response.

Not far from her, Song Wanrou lay sprawled on the ground, as though her soul had been ripped away.

Leng Wanqiu suddenly dreaded looking at Song Wanrou.

She did not know whether Song Mo had told Song Wanrou about the things between them, but if Song Wanrou ever learned of the filthy deeds she had done, Leng Wanqiu truly feared the other woman would kill her.

Later still.

After Song Mo died, the floodgate of memories in Leng Wanqiu's mind burst open.

She recalled the miserable life she had lived for over twenty years before meeting Song Mo—the discrimination, the bullying, the bleak, marginalized existence.

Later, together with Song Wanrou and a few others, she had caught the fleeing Chen Xi.

By then, already racked by inner torment, Leng Wanqiu was desperate for relief, so Chen Xi and Liu Meiyun—the two culprits who had caused Song Mo's death—became the tools through which Leng Wanqiu sought to lighten the burden on her conscience.

During this period, ever since she realized she seemed to have overplayed her hand, Leng Wanqiu had always wanted to find Song Mo and apologize, yet a fluke mentality lingered in her heart.

She believed she was the very model of a fairy tale—the textbook ugly duckling transformed into a white swan.

But that beam of light was clearly innocent.

What if, just as Chen Xi had said, Song Mo, left with nothing, could only rely on her? If Song Mo had to depend on her, surely he wouldn't choose to leave her…

After Song Mo helped her recover her health, she would often gaze narcissistically into the mirror, and seeing the breathtaking beauty reflected there always lifted her mood considerably.

Yet Leng Wanqiu felt utterly filthy inside.

She could not wash the sins from her body either.

With every slash, Leng Wanqiu's face would stream with tears, her body trembling, and through this process, the pain within her finally eased considerably.

But now.

She hadn't expected that now there was no need to agonize over it.

She was in infinite agony.

Only one sorrowful thought remained in her mind.

There had clearly been a beam of light, winding and twisting, curving through nine bends and eighteen turns, stubbornly shining its way into her dark little corner of a gutter, yet she had snuffed out that light with her own hands.

She let Song Wanrou clutch at her throat.

It didn't matter that she had ruined herself.

But even so.

Beneath that dazzling, glamorous exterior dwelt a soul ugly beyond measure.

Leng Wanqiu suddenly felt a flicker of cowardice.

When Chen Xi died, Leng Wanqiu's heart felt even more hollow; facing Song Wanrou, who lunged at her like an enraged lioness over how she had tortured Chen Xi to death too quickly, Leng Wanqiu's heart was like dead water.

She had thought that once Chen Xi was dead, she might be able to wash the sins from herself, but only when Chen Xi truly died did she realize:

Sins of this kind cannot be washed away.

They are brands cut deeper than scars.

Seared forever into the depths of the soul.

She cannot escape; this lifetime is fated to be tormented by them.

Leng Wanqiu felt.

It would be fine to just let Song Wanrou strangle her or hack her to death.

Would sinking into eternal slumber also be a thorough release?

Then, it became a dazzling white light.

After the explosion came rebirth.

……

The old man kept fanning with an electric fan; the room was as hot as a sauna, and sweat kept pouring off Leng Wanqiu.

The old man noticed that tears kept sliding down from the corners of her eyes.

For a moment, this old man, already past fifty, began to grow curious.

What on earth had this young woman been through to be so grief-stricken? After all, Leng Wanqiu was still fighting her illness at this very moment!

At such a critical juncture, how could her emotions be swinging so violently?

Time slipped by; there was no clock in the room;

but the sun's shadow slanted westward, gradually reaching dusk, and evening was soon upon them.

When the sky had darkened completely.

Leng Wanqiu finally woke up.

She had pulled through.

Her body had fully recovered.

After this brush with life and death, her ailment was completely cured, never to recur—like a butterfly breaking free from its cocoon.

But after waking.

Leng Wanqiu felt no joy; instead, she covered her face and wept.

She finally understood.

Finally understood why Song Mo had loathed her so, finally understood everything that had happened in her previous life, finally knew exactly what a hideous and despicable person she truly was.

She had no idea how she was supposed to face all of this.

Now she was utterly alone, abandoned by all—no longer able to ride the winds and waves at the company as in days past; no longer able to enjoy her parents' love.

Indeed, everything she had done in this lifetime.

It made it so that she could never lift her head in front of Song Mo, for all eternity.

Two lifetimes in a row, she had played an ugly role, standing on the opposite side of Song Mo.

Leng Wanqiu recalled the first time she met Song Mo in her previous life — his unfeigned tenderness, everything he had given, the trials they had weathered together.

And then in this life, the moment she heard Song Mo's inner voice — the endless contempt and hatred within, the constant "stupid fat hag."

She had been so lucky, stumbling through the mud to meet an angel who would save her — only to personally snap the angel's outstretched hand after being saved.

Leng Wanqiu knew that life was like a rushing river, surging ever forward, never able to return to what once was.

The beautiful moments freeze in place; the mistakes can never be taken back.

She could bear no more. She wailed at the top of her lungs, startling awake the old man who had been dozing after keeping watch over her for a whole day.

He stared at Leng Wanqiu in astonishment.

This little girl is truly strange.

Her illness was clearly cured, she had pulled through — so why could he still sense a lingering sorrow about her, a pain in her crying that seemed as though she wished she could cry herself to death?

"Stop howling, this old man needs to sleep!"

The old man called out impatiently.

Only soft, broken sobs remained in the room.

……

An Yinuo's little nest.

Inside the room, the pillowcase was a mess.

An Yinuo was drenched in sticky sweat, a lingering flush still on her cheeks.

Utterly worn out.

Song Mo lit a cigarette, looked at An Yinuo who had fallen into a deep sleep, and deeply felt that he had fallen.

There was a time, once, when he had actually been a pure-hearted youth.

Three lives as a man.

His first love was Leng Wanqiu, in his previous life.

This life, he had truly let himself go……

But he had to admit, letting go felt damn good!

There's a saying: "falling while sober."

Why fall even when you're sober? Because falling really does feel that good!

……

On cloud nine.

Song Mo stood up.

Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, greeting the sunlight outside, he reached out his hand, determined to grip tight everything he now possessed.

He would grow stronger, grow fiercer — guard his wealth and his women like a wolf king;

Become the king of the world, the master of his own life.

(End of chapter)