After Transmigrating into a Redemption Novel as the Evil Stepmother - Chapter 3

In early May, it is the season when the jacarandas are in full bloom.

Ming Jiayue woke up during the night. The clouds and rain had dispersed, and a gentle night breeze swayed the purple flower clusters. Bits of starlight shone through the window, casting a beautiful small pool of light and shadow on the head of Zhou An’an, who was slumped asleep by the bedside.

The system claimed credit triumphantly.

“Zhou An’an has been guarding you for several days. The bullet went wide—serious, but not fatal. However, I manipulated things backstage so that it appeared as if you were just a hair’s breadth away from death. You have no idea how dramatic the expressions on Zhou An’an and Ji Shuangci’s faces were when they heard the doctor say that.”

“Those two little brats must be moved to death. But I’ve exhausted my energy using cheats for you, so I must go into hibernation. I won’t be able to recharge until your mission progress reaches 50%.”

“Host, until we meet again.”

Ming Jiayue was slightly stunned; a moment later, a look of genuine warmth appeared in her eyes.

“007, thank you. Until we meet again.”

Ming Jiayue’s sleep quality had always been poor. Without sleeping pills on hand, she lay quietly for a while before reaching out to turn on the light.

Zhou An’an probably hadn’t slept well for days; the movement of Ming Jiayue turning on the light to drink water didn’t wake her. After a brief rest, Ming Jiayue stared at Zhou An’an for a long time.

Zhou An’an’s colorful afro had been dyed back to black at some point. The heavy makeup was gone, the blindingly “blingy” manicures had vanished, and that large sticker-tattoo on her neck had disappeared.

She had changed into a normal style of clothing that she usually disdained. Her eyes were still swollen; she must have cried in secret.

The current Zhou An’an looked incredibly well-behaved.

A faint smile touched Ming Jiayue’s lips. Recalling Zhou An’an’s background, she felt a pang of guilt. Losing her mother at birth and being ignored by her father, she wasn’t a bad child by nature—she just seemed to have a fragile soul. Perhaps a gentler approach to her education was needed.

Ming Jiayue felt a rare sense of remorse.

Seeing Zhou An’an sleeping in an awkward position, she hesitated for a moment before gently nudging her.

“Zhou An’an, wake up and go sleep in the side room.”

The hospital’s luxury VIP suite was fully equipped with a master bedroom, a side bedroom, a bathroom, and various living facilities.

Zhou An’an woke up in a daze, her “peach eyes” struggling to open even a crack. One cheek was flushed red from being pressed down, making her look quite comical.

Looking up, she caught Ming Jiayue’s eyes, which held a faint smile.

Zhou An’an’s “bristling” instinct kicked in. She stood up abruptly, took a large step back, and questioned her crossly.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Zhou An’an had sharp features, but her overall facial contours were soft, with rounded cheeks and corners of the mouth that turned up naturally. Even with her swollen eyes, one could see she was very pretty—the cute kind of pretty.

Especially without makeup, even when she tried to act tough, she looked completely non-threatening.

Ming Jiayue propped herself up with one hand to sit up, leaning back against the pillows. She didn’t answer Zhou An’an’s question, merely saying calmly:

“I want some water.”

Watching Ming Jiayue sit up, Zhou An’an wanted to go over and help several times. Her hands and feet moved restlessly, but she forced herself to hold back. Her gaze darted between Ming Jiayue’s face, her gunshot-wounded left shoulder, and her heavily bitten right shoulder.

Her expression was very complicated.

The two of them could previously be described as mutually loathing each other. Although she didn’t know why Ming Jiayue had saved her, she figured “when the weasel pays a New Year’s visit to the chicken, it brings no good intentions.”

Maybe she had some grand conspiracy that made her willing to pay such a high price.

Zhou An’an kept brainwashing herself, but hearing Ming Jiayue say she wanted water, her body honestly moved forward. Her mouth, however, remained sharp.

“Don’t think that just because you saved me, I’ll be so grateful that I’ll be willing to work like a horse at your beck and call.”

Before she even finished speaking, she had already carefully brought the water to Ming Jiayue. Before handing it over, Zhou An’an specifically checked the temperature setting to ensure it wouldn’t scald her.

Ming Jiayue took the water. Even with her caution, her left shoulder still throbbed painfully. Her face didn’t show it as she continued to ignore Zhou An’an’s provocation, replying peacefully:

“It’s late. Be good and go to sleep.”

These were words of concern. Zhou An’an froze. She stared at Ming Jiayue as if trying to bore a hole through her, her mind incredibly conflicted.

Ming Jiayue was concerned about her?

Too ridiculous, too absurd. This bad woman, Ming Jiayue, surely wished she would die sooner.

But…

Zhou An’an’s expression shifted rapidly. Under Ming Jiayue’s repeated urging, she finally gave a muffled “Oh.” Then she went to the side room, brought back a pillow and blanket, and insisted on sleeping on the sofa.

“I’m sleeping on the sofa so that if you’re uncomfortable anywhere, I can call the doctor in time. Don’t think you can use this incident to latch onto me.”

The words sounded like an attempt to draw a line, but her voice was low, seemingly hiding a mix of resentment and a desire for closeness.

Ming Jiayue remained indifferent and calm, acting as if she hadn’t noticed Zhou An’an’s reaction. She silently turned off the light. Her left shoulder still hurt terribly, but she didn’t groan once, nor did she even frown in pain.

As the room went dark, Zhou An’an wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. A faint fragrance lingered at the tip of her nose—it was Ming Jiayue’s scent. She took a quiet, deep breath before closing her eyes in peace.

Outside the ward, as the bedroom light went out, half of Ji Shuangci’s face was submerged in shadow. She stood at the door for a while longer before walking toward her mother’s room.

When Ming Jiayue said she would sponsor all medical expenses, she didn’t just provide money; she had moved Ji Shuangci’s mother to the best hospital in H City, hired the most professional medical team, and secured the best ward—on the same floor as Ming Jiayue’s.

Senior year study loads were heavy. Ji Shuangci usually rushed to the hospital after her evening self-study sessions. Aside from taking care of her mother, she would stop by Ming Jiayue’s ward to check in.

Seeing that Ming Jiayue was awake, the giant stone in Ji Shuangci’s heart finally fell to the ground.

Back in her mother’s room, Ji Shuangci habitually tried to take out her homework. Just as she picked up her pen, she seemed to remember something; she took out her phone, opened WeChat, and clicked on her chat with Ming Jiayue.

The message history still ended at the last message she had sent.

Ji Shuangci pursed her lips, then began searching for Ming Jiayue’s Baidu Baike (encyclopedia) page, scrolling through every entry with great care.

[Ming Jiayue, Female, Han ethnicity, daughter of Ming Huan, graduated from Tsinghua University’s Department of Accounting, Master of Management from Huazhong University, President of the Financial Management Department of Mingzhu Group, CFO of Mingzhu Port City…]

Ji’s mother had been a typical Jiangnan beauty in her youth—gentle as water and very considerate of others. Since falling ill, she often couldn’t sleep through the night due to the pain. To avoid causing trouble for others, she would only let out a painful groan if she truly couldn’t endure it.

A nurse once said she was a woman who looked fragile enough to be knocked over by a push, yet she could endure pain better than many men.

Only Ji’s mother knew she wasn’t just “good” at enduring; she simply felt bad for her daughter. Since she fell ill, her daughter hadn’t had a single night of peaceful sleep while taking care of her.

Her daughter was like a bamboo shoot that hadn’t yet grown to full height—without nutrients or shelter, she had to face the wind, frost, and bitter rain all on her own.

Her Shuangshuang had suffered enough.

Tonight, Ji’s mother seemed to sense Ji Shuangci’s restless mind. While Ji Shuangci sat in a daze, she suddenly spoke up.

“Shuangshuang, why aren’t you sleeping yet? You have class tomorrow. Did something happen?”

Ji Shuangci was usually taciturn and emotionally reserved. Normally, she would have said nothing was wrong, but tonight she nodded.

“Mom, I think I’ve met a benefactor in my life.”

“She’s sponsoring my studies. As for your illness, she’s the one who helped with the transfer and changing doctors. A few days ago, she even…”

Under her mother’s pained gaze, Ji Shuangci paused, then took her mother’s hand.

“Mom, I’m going to work harder. Wait for me. Wait for me to earn a lot of money and take you to live a good life.”

There was one more sentence that Ji Shuangci recited in her heart but didn’t say aloud.

Ji’s mother smiled, but her eyes grew wet as she did. She gently stroked Ji Shuangci’s cheek; she didn’t speak, but her hand was trembling.

Her Shuangshuang, such a good and obedient child—why was she born to someone like her, someone poor, useless, and terminally ill who could only be a burden?

She didn’t care about living a “good life”; she only wanted her Shuangshuang to live a bit more lightly.

The night was quiet. Ji Shuangci only slept for a few hours. At six o’clock, as dawn broke, she woke up. After a quick wash, she hurried to catch the earliest subway back to school.

She was still exhausted, but Ji Shuangci’s spirit today was vastly different from before.

She walked through the long hospital corridor and out the main gate. The boundless morning sun showered over her, and the wind blew through the fine hairs on her head as she took large strides forward.

From a distance, she looked exactly like a growing little tree—growing upward, rooting downward, hiding a burgeoning vitality, possessing infinite life and infinite possibilities.

Ming Jiayue hadn’t fallen back asleep after waking up. She opened the window early and moved a chair to sit by it. With an accidental glance, she happened to see Ji Shuangci leaving.

Ming Jiayue watched silently as her figure disappeared into the crowd. Her phone received a new message at that exact moment. She looked down and raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat surprised.

It was Ji Shuangci.

Like before, it was a pile of grateful words. Ming Jiayue wasn’t planning to reply. Ji Shuangci came from a poor background but had a resilient nature and strong self-esteem; replying would likely only make her feel more uncomfortable.

However, to Ming Jiayue’s surprise, Ji Shuangci sent many messages. First, she thanked her for the help with her studies, mentioned that her mother’s condition had improved, and even went so far as to say she wanted to learn from her to be a person useful to society—going in a very large circle.

Ming Jiayue naturally knew Ji Shuangci wasn’t the type to try and climb social ladders, but after this morning’s display, she truly didn’t understand what she was trying to say.

Just as she was hesitating whether to reply, Ming Jiayue saw the two newest messages from Ji Shuangci, and her eyelids twitched violently.

“President Ming, you are a good person.”

“I know that what happened last time was all a misunderstanding. You would certainly never do anything illegal or disorderly, and you would definitely never threaten others to be your lover.”

Ming Jiayue: ???