After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 10

“Sorry.”

Jin Yunxi’s hand trembled, spilling half the water onto the bed.

That single word—“wifey”—still echoed in her ears, reverberating in her skull. She shot up, turning her face away. Strands of loose hair slipped down, half-hiding the blush at her lashes, but not the flush spreading across the tips of her ears.

Like willow branches brushing spring ice, delicate ripples stirred within her.

Could losing one’s memory really change even their tone of voice? Yan Qingruo’s voice was soft, tender, laced with intimacy.

Jin Yunxi felt an indescribable unease crawl across her skin. The sudden jerk of her body was like an automaton triggered by some hidden switch.

The woman on the bed lifted her peach blossom eyes, mist shimmering in them, gazing back at Jin Yunxi with puzzled grievance at her reaction.

“Ah Yun, do you not like me calling you that? But before…”

In the diary, they always called each other “wife.”

Yan Qingruo tilted her head, hospital gown slipping down a shoulder, the damp patches on the bedsheets tracing out a suggestive galaxy.

“What… was it like before?” Jin Yunxi’s throat tightened.

That meddling “kindhearted” Lu Ge had been feeding Yan Qingruo little couple anecdotes, leaving her utterly convinced.

“Well, before~” Yan Qingruo suddenly leaned forward, tugging at Jin Yunxi’s sleeve. Her fingertips nearly brushed the Alpha’s veins at her neck. “Ah Yun, whenever you fed me medicine, you would test the temperature three times with a silver spoon first.”

Yan Qingruo’s memory was unreasonably sharp at times, especially when it came to the hundred daily-couple entries written in that journal.

“And besides, you used to call me Ruoruo.”

Jin Yunxi: …

The aloof eldest daughter of the Yan family—always distant in her memory—was now toying with her cuff button with the tip of her pinky.

In the soft light, the sickly beauty was coated with a honeyed glow, even the tear mole at her eye looked like dew on a rose thorn.

“…Ruoruo.” Jin Yunxi whispered it, her palm pressed painfully against the sharp edge of the check in her pocket. But the pain was nothing compared to the brightness in Yan Qingruo’s smiling eyes.

Yet her voice came out stiff, and Yan Qingruo was not pleased.

She knew she had amnesia, knew she couldn’t recall much. But deep in her mind, the familiarity she felt with Jin Yunxi simply couldn’t be erased. Jin Yunxi’s distant coldness confused her all the more, leaving her like a lost fawn in a vast forest.

“Mhm.” She lowered her gaze and softly hummed back.

She couldn’t help feeling drawn to this woman, as if it was etched into her bones—an instinctive attachment. Especially after reading that diary filled with one hundred intimate couple moments, Lu Ge’s words now seemed utterly believable.

“I still want to hear you call me something else.”

Jin Yunxi: ?

Yan Qingruo’s cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head shyly. “I want to hear you call me wife.”

Jin Yunxi froze. The fifty-million check in her pocket suddenly felt scorching hot, as though it would burn through the fabric—reminding her that she couldn’t entirely shirk responsibility for Yan Qingruo’s condition.

But really, this woman was becoming quite audacious. Why hadn’t she noticed before how clingy Yan Qingruo could be?

So all this time, she’d only been pretending—pretending to be her sister. Was this her true nature?

Fine. Just for today, since she was sick, she would indulge her.

Yan Yunxi closed her eyes, reopened them, and the tips of her ears turned faintly red. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her cane.

“Wife!”

“Mhm~” Yan Qingruo’s bright laughter spilled out like spring light, her voice lilting with delight.

Like warm waters flooding into a frozen pond, she pressed Jin Yunxi’s pinky against the pulse at her wrist. “Ah Yun, your hand is so hot.”

The thrum of her heartbeat passed through skin and bone. Startled, Jin Yunxi quickly pulled back her hand—only to stumble into the depths of Yan Qingruo’s glistening autumn eyes. Within them, she saw two trembling reflections.

The atmosphere in the ward thickened, saturated with a damning intimacy.

Outside the door came the muffled clatter of a dropped phone. The assistant clapped a hand over her mouth, staring as the usually glacial secretary-general stumbled back, bracing herself against the window ledge.

Morning sunlight traced the lines of her slim waist beneath her long coat. On the bed, the languid beauty propped her chin on her hand, dark silk hair spilling like ink across snowy pillows.
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In the end, Jin Yunxi decided to bring Yan Qingruo home.

Yan Qingruo seemed to dislike hospitals, and with the bed damp from spilled water, leaving made sense.

But Jin Yunxi’s leg injury had worsened—her rush to get Qingruo to the hospital earlier had forced her to walk too fast.

The silver cane struck the floor, each sharp tap echoing against Yan Qingruo’s heart. She quickened her steps, reaching out to support her.

“No need. I can walk myself.” Jin Yunxi’s jawline tightened into a sharp arc, but as she stepped forward, she nearly staggered.

Yan Qingruo’s fingertips barely brushed the strap at her waist as she watched the tall figure retreat. Her lashes cast the shadow of butterfly wings across her eyes, heavy with pity.

Pity that seemed to have no origin, yet felt as though it had always been there.

Jin Yunxi’s chest tightened with frustration. She had never needed pity—past, present, or future.

And to receive it from Yan Qingruo of all people—it was unbearable.

She’d tolerated Jin Yunhan’s support only because it was a debt owed. She knew full well her leg was severely worsened, yet pride wouldn’t let her relent.

She assumed Yan Qingruo wouldn’t follow. She even smirked inwardly—see? That was who she was: brooding, reckless, impossible to endure.

But the farther she walked, the stiffer her legs became.

Moments later, a pair of soft hands slipped into hers. “Ah Yun, would you walk with me, side by side? I’m still weak after just being discharged.”

Jin Yunxi glanced down, sighing inwardly. Was the amnesiac Yan Qingruo doing this on purpose?

“…Sorry.” Her thumb unconsciously traced the carved crest at the top of her cane. “I’ve grown used to walking alone. My tone was a bit harsh just now.”

For someone so proud, an apology was rare, already precious.

“It’s fine, Ah Yun. My accident is what made your leg worse.” Qingruo’s voice brimmed with guilt—Lu Ge had told her as much.

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At home, Qingruo became like a little tail, sticking close to Yunxi.

She even insisted on cooking for her. Yunxi tried to dissuade her gently: “You’re still recovering. Let the housekeeper cook.”

She didn’t have the heart to say the truth—that Qingruo’s cooking had never once agreed with her.

But Qingruo was determined.

“Just taste it?” Her peach blossom eyes sparkled, chestnut curls bouncing lightly at her neck, gaze brimming with anticipation.

On the gilded porcelain plate, sweet-and-sour ribs gleamed under amber sauce.

Yunxi stared at the bow tied at her back apron, remembering the last time she’d seen this dish—it had looked more like blackened “Cola Chicken Wings, plus edition.”

She’d ended up giving it to the house dog. The dog sniffed it once and turned away.

Even the dog wouldn’t eat it.

Yunxi masked her reaction and didn’t refuse. But when her teeth broke through the crispy crust, her pupils widened.

Eh??

The sharp tang of hawthorn burst against the sweetness of rock sugar, exploding across her tongue. Her grip on the chopsticks tightened—this was the taste she’d craved most during her hospital stay abroad.

“…A big improvement.” She quickly lowered her eyes to hide the surprise.

So amnesia could even improve cooking skills?

“Ah Yun, is it good?” Qingruo’s gaze clung to her with open hope.

“It’s acceptable.” Yunxi ate steadily, not once looking up. Qingruo’s brows curved with secret triumph.

Her cane rested quietly beside her. Qingruo eyed it, wanting to reach out, but guilt about worsening Yunxi’s injury made her hand fall back.

Instead, she gently pressed her palm against Yunxi’s knee. “Ah Yun, you don’t need to apologize to me today.”

“…I have a bad temper.” Yunxi put down her chopsticks, speaking softly. Her father and grandmother often said she had changed since her illness—once the family’s angel, now its devil.

They had said plenty of cruel things to her.

But Qingruo only shook her head. She didn’t think Yunxi was bad. All these years, Yunxi hadn’t been able to climb mountains, walk far, or even take stairs easily. Winters bound her to a wheelchair, her legs stiff and aching. She had lived long in constant inconvenience.

And yet, she still carried herself with such discipline and refinement.

So to her, her Ah Yun had already restrained her temper enough, and turned herself into someone admirable.

Qingruo said all this aloud, and added softly that since Yunxi was three years younger, it should be her, the older one, taking care of Yunxi instead.

If only Ah Yun wouldn’t be so cold to her…

The warmth of her palm seeped into Yunxi’s bone-deep chill, flowing into the stubborn stiffness of her muscles. Yunxi froze. Qingruo’s words brushed her heartstrings like a feather.

But whatever she thought of, her expression quickly settled again. She pushed Qingruo’s hand away without a trace.

“Thank you. The food was good.” She dabbed her lips neatly with a napkin, then added, too deliberately: “Better than what you used to make.”

Qingruo’s eyes curved with laughter. “So what I made before wasn’t to Ah Yun’s taste?”

Yunxi stifled a snort inwardly. Saying it was “not to her taste” was already merciful. She now seriously suspected the old Qingruo had made things intentionally awful, hiding her real skills.

Now, with her “true self exposed,” she had shown what she could really do.

Taking advantage of Yunxi’s good mood, Qingruo asked about her leg injury.

Yunxi’s expression stiffened. “…I’m full.”

That nightmare was something she couldn’t speak of. The only person who had seen her at her weakest was Yan Qingmei. To revisit it now, even to Qingruo, was impossible.

Few are born disabled. Yunxi’s leg condition had come from a grave illness at twenty-three, two major surgeries leaving lasting damage. Qingruo had already looked this up online—self-reproach filled her at having to learn of Yunxi’s past in such a way, when she should have remembered it herself.

Propping her chin in her hands, Qingruo watched Yunxi’s retreating back, a smile playing at her lips.

Her Ah Yun… if she didn’t want to say, that was fine too.

From today on, she would get to know her in every way possible—inside and out, through and through.