After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 64

“Her emotions are fluctuating too much. She must remain calm and rested. No more stimulation.”

The doctor rushed into the ward. Seeing Jin Yunxi’s startled expression, he almost thought something catastrophic had happened to the patient.

Just emotional fluctuation?

Jin Yunxi’s gaze locked on Yan Qingruo, who was lying with her eyes closed as if asleep. Her fingertips tapped against the bed rail in suspicion.

In the next second, it hit her—this woman had been pretending the whole time. She hadn’t fainted at all, and now she was deliberately putting on a weak little act of slowly waking up.

Heh. She can act, all right—an overlooked gem in the entertainment industry.

Once Yan Qingruo recovered, if she didn’t enter showbiz herself, Jin Yunxi swore she’d drag her there.

Yan Qingruo blinked her watery eyes. She didn’t mean to get “overstimulated”… but Ah Yun had kissed her.

Like an injured kitten, she clutched Jin Yunxi’s sleeve with pale fingers, her voice soft and plaintive:

“Ah Yun, I’m thirsty~”

Ah Yun had only kissed her a few times earlier—that was nowhere near enough. A kiss under the excuse of “giving water” could never satisfy her.

Jin Yunxi remained unmoved, her expression cold as she arched a brow.

“I’ll ask the nurse to get you some.”

“The nurses are busy…”

“There are always some who aren’t.”

Yan Qingruo pouted. “Ah Yun, I just want you to feed me.”

She tugged pitifully at her Alpha’s sleeve, as if the moment Jin Yunxi shook her off, her heart would shatter into pieces.

Grinding down her impatience, Jin Yunxi pulled her arm free and said flatly, “Use words properly. No tugging.”

She kept reminding herself: This pitiful act is fake. Just like before—when she lost her memory and claimed to love me—it was all self-hypnosis, all an illusion.

With a frosty face, she poured a glass of hot water and thrust it into Yan Qingruo’s hand.

But the woman only became more dramatic.

“Wuwu… my wound hurts, I can’t hold it~”

Jin Yunxi clenched her jaw. Fine—for the fact that Yan Qingruo had once taken a knife for her, she would give in just this once.

She fed her the water with the same cold expression.

“It’s too hot~ Ah Yun, blow on it for me.”

Jin Yunxi’s lips thinned. Without so much as a glance, she turned to her assistant.

“Jin Fan, go buy a bottle of mineral water from the vending machine downstairs.”

Yan Qingruo blinked innocently, like a naïve little child. She didn’t want cold mineral water.

When Jin Yunxi mixed the mineral water with the hot water, cooling it to a drinkable temperature, Yan Qingruo stared in disbelief.

“All set,” Jin Yunxi said dryly.

She was not going to blow on the water for her. Mixing it down was faster.

“…I want Ah Yun to feed me.”

Jin Yunxi stood, picked up a spoon, but then hesitated—feeding her this way seemed far too intimate.

“Jin Fan, go buy a straw.”

With a long-suffering face, Jin Fan trudged off again. Whenever these two fight, I’m always the one suffering…

When the lonely straw finally arrived, Yan Qingruo drank obediently, looking for once rather well-behaved. Yet her lips soon curved in mischief. She teased the straw with tongue and teeth, sipping deeply before narrowing her eyes in feline satisfaction.

Her rosy tongue flicked and curled—whether deliberate or not—before she cast Jin Yunxi a moist, smoldering glance.

At once, Jin Yunxi’s mind conjured the memory of the locked room: clothes scattered, pheromones thick in the air, endless kisses, entanglement so deep she could even taste the other’s scent.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

Handing the cup back, Yan Qingruo leaned close and whispered at her ear, content and playful:

“So thirsty… this is the first drop of water I’ve had in four hours and five minutes.”

Four hours and five minutes ago… in the locked room… what she had drunk wasn’t water at all—it was hers.

Jin Yunxi nearly buried her face in her hands.

Damn that memory! Heat coiled low in her belly, the emptied-out sensation flooding back like a tide. She shot to her feet, face red as a boiled shrimp.

“You—Yan Qingruo!” she snapped, flustered and furious. “Your injury clearly isn’t serious at all!”

Still in the mood to joke with her—indecent jokes, no less.

“Jin Fan will be here with you. If you need anything, tell him.”

She pried Yan Qingruo’s fingers off her hand. As she turned away, the hem of her clothes brushed across the woman’s desolate knuckles.

Jin Yunxi’s ears burned crimson as her heels clattered an uneven rhythm down the hall.

From around the corner, Jin Fan froze in place with a folder clutched to his chest, watching her boss flee into the stairwell with a bewildered look.

________________________________________

Three days later.

Jin Fan held a crumpled payment slip in the corridor, glancing at the IV stand where the third bottle had just emptied, before reluctantly dialing his boss’s number.

“President Jin… could you… come over for a moment?”

Yan Qingruo had barely touched the meals Jin Fan bought her, eating only the tiniest amounts. The doctor warned that at this rate, her recovery would be in jeopardy.

When Jin Yunxi arrived, she set a thermos of steaming chicken soup on the bedside table, her gaze flat as it landed on the woman looking pitiful on the bed.

“You’re really not going to eat?”

The moment the Alpha entered, Yan Qingruo’s eyes lit up. She hooked Jin Yunxi’s hand just as she turned to leave, IV line tugging carelessly.

Jin Yunxi stopped in her tracks, hearing a soft whimper. Yan Qingruo’s lashes fluttered like wounded butterfly wings.

“Ah Yun, don’t go… it hurts here.”

She pointed pitifully at her waist. The bandage there wasn’t stained with the slightest drop of blood.

Jin Yunxi’s lips curved in a cold arc.

“It hurts? Then I’ll ask the doctor to give you a painkiller shot. They say the ones in the backside work fastest—and won’t affect your appetite.”

Yan Qingruo bit her lip, cheeks flushing pink. Lifting dewy eyes, she murmured, “Ah Yun… these past days I’ve missed you so much I can’t even eat properly. Stay with me a little longer, won’t you?”

Jin Yunxi glanced at the untouched takeout bags, then shot Jin Fan a sharp look. Jin Fan nearly wept—what could he say? Miss Yan had insisted on ordering food so as not to trouble anyone, only to refuse to eat it afterward. All of it went straight into the trash.

Miss Yan wasn’t just tormenting herself—she was tormenting them all. And in the end, the one to suffer most was still President Jin.

Jin Yunxi pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Fine. I’ll feed you. But this is the last time. You’ll finish it all.”

Yan Qingruo’s eyes curved like crescent moons, her voice crisp and sweet:

“Okay~”

Jin Yunxi scooped a spoonful of chicken soup and held it to her lips. Yan Qingruo’s crimson tongue slipped out, closing around the edge of the spoon. As she swallowed, her tongue deliberately brushed against Jin Yunxi’s outstretched fingertip—like a feather grazing, slow and intimate.

Jin Yunxi’s hand jolted. The broth nearly spilled.

Her gaze was pulled into Yan Qingruo’s misty eyes, trailing down her pale throat as it moved with each swallow, to the curve of her neck, and the gleam of soup clinging to her pink lips.

“It’s hot~” Yan Qingruo blinked innocently, then stole the chance to brush her lips against Jin Yunxi’s fingertip, murmuring in a soft, syrupy voice:

“Blow on it for me, Ah Yun.”

The purifier hummed in the corner, but the air felt thick and stifling. With that little flick of her tongue, Jin Yunxi’s ears burned hotter than the steaming soup.

Turning her face away, she blew lightly across the spoon. Loose strands of hair brushed against Yan Qingruo’s heated cheek.

No matter what she ate or drank, Yan Qingruo always managed to make it look sensual, teasing, drenched in unspoken desire.

The memory of the banquet’s locked room flashed through Jin Yunxi’s mind—Yan Qingruo kneeling in front of her, eyes lifted in sultry devotion as she…

A fire leapt in Jin Yunxi’s chest. Her cheeks flamed so hot she couldn’t stay any longer.

“I want to eat something you cook yourself, Ah Yun.”

Warm breath brushed her wrist, IV tube tangling between their accidentally overlapping fingers.

A feather-light touch traced her palm, teasing and unbearable.

Jin Yunxi snatched her hand back, clumsy and frantic. Her sapphire watch knocked against the cabinet with a dull thud.

“Yan Qingruo, if you keep talking like this… I’ll feed you razor blades instead.”

“It’ll hurt,” Yan Qingruo whispered meekly.

“You do know what pain is?” Jin Yunxi snapped. “Yet you don’t take care of yourself—fresh out of surgery and still refusing to eat.”

Yan Qingruo only looked pleased with herself. With a spoiled, affectionate little nuzzle against her neck, she murmured,

“It doesn’t hurt if Ah Yun holds me.”

________________________________________

By the time Jin Yunxi returned home, the sky had already fallen dark.

She slipped off her coat and walked toward the study.

The desk was buried under stacks of documents, while on the bookshelf sat the old wedding photo of her and Yan Qingruo.

Because it had been a contractual marriage, neither of them wore much expression in the picture.

But the moment she sat down at the desk, an image suddenly surfaced—Yan Qingruo sitting there once, poring over books day and night in search of a cure for her leg injury.

At the time, she had been so moved that she draped a coat over Yan Qingruo’s shoulders.

Now, looking back, even her disability had been the handiwork of that mother and daughter. How laughable.

With a bitter smile, she tossed the wedding photo into the trash.

Whatever ripple had been stirred in her heart back at the hospital faded away with the dull thud of the photo hitting the bin—silent, leaving no trace.

Had Jin Yunxi flipped the photo over, she would have seen a line of hidden handwriting on the back. Unfortunately, she never did.

She picked up a pen and tried to work through the contracts that required her signature.

The nib scratched a few meaningless lines across the paper, but she couldn’t focus.

Something about Yan Qingruo’s recent state… felt wrong.

She was far too invested in her, her temperament softer and more fragile than even during her period of amnesia.

Once, such devotion would have thrilled her.

But now, Jin Yunxi’s brows knitted together. She tried to convince herself that their fateful meeting by the Rhine had not been staged.

Yet the love Yan Qingruo had shown after her memory loss was nothing more than the result of Xu Xiyue’s hypnotic suggestion.

The thought sat in her throat like a thorn.

Could it be that the yearning, the affection Yan Qingruo showed now… was just another layer of hypnosis?

Would this only lead to another betrayal?

Too many times, Yan Qingruo had deceived and hurt her.

The wounds had left her with PTSD—too afraid to bare her heart, too afraid to trust anyone again.

And between them loomed Song Mei, that immovable mountain carved with the words “family feud.”

That baseless hatred stood like a chasm, cutting them off from reconciliation, leaving their relationship fractured beyond repair.

Her heart, weary and wounded, locked itself away from love.

Why, then, at this moment, had Yan Qingruo stepped forward and taken that knife for her?

The doctor had said—if the blade had gone one centimeter deeper, Yan Qingruo would have died on the spot.

Jin Yunxi’s mind was a haze. She had no idea how to face it all.

So she resolved never to set foot in that suffocating hospital room again, that place heavy with ambiguity and turmoil.

She even recalled Jin Fan back to her side, cutting all ties with icy finality.

After all, didn’t Yan Qingruo still have Song Mei and Xu Xiyue to look after her?

Jin Yunxi gave a wry smile—yet in her mind’s eye flashed the round little face of Yan Yining, those black-grape eyes so like her own, the soft, milky voice calling her Ah Lai jie-jie.

Silly little one. You should be calling me “mother.”

Her baby had never once called her “mother.”

Instead, she called Xu Xiyue mommy.

The dream she had once cherished of a family of three crumbled in the face of cruel reality.

My baby… one day will you hate me?

It isn’t that I don’t want to claim you…

Leaning back in her chair, a hand pressed to her forehead, she could still see that sweet, delicate face—a face that carried, undeniably, traces of another woman.

She was theirs… the result of their union, yet not the fruit of love.

The day Yan Qingruo was discharged, sunlight bathed her refined features in a soft halo.

Her beauty was breathtaking.

The days of convalescence had left her thinner, frailer—like a willow swaying in the wind, delicate as the fabled Xi Shi.

Standing at the hospital entrance, she waited and waited.

She had told Song Mei not to come, even hid it from the baby, all in the hope that Jin Yunxi would be the one to pick her up.

But every glance, every flicker of anticipation in her brows and eyes fell into emptiness.

Disappointment surged like a tide, drowning her. Her bright eyes clouded over with mist.

Still she was unwilling. How could Ah Yun abandon her so easily?

Her tear-brimmed gaze shimmered with grievances too heavy to name.

She flagged down a cab and headed straight for Jin Corporation.

Her heart pounded like a drum the entire way—half expectant, half afraid, not knowing what excuse or plea she could use to make Yunxi stay.

But she had to go. She had to explain. She had to know Jin Yunxi’s answer.

And if Yunxi rejected her again?

Would she be forced to give up? Yan Qingruo dared not imagine. Her pride was already crumbling.

When Jin Fan saw her, his expression grew pained.

“Sorry, President Jin is away on business. She isn’t seeing anyone.”

“On business? No—Ah Yun is still in Yatran. She asked you to lie to me, didn’t she?”

Her fingertips whitened as she clutched at Jin Fan’s sleeve like a drowning woman grabbing the last straw.

“Assistant Jin, doesn’t Ah Yun have anything she wants to say to me?”

Jin Fan’s heart twisted. At last, compassion for his boss’s feelings won out.

“I used to call you ‘Madam.’ But Miss Yan… you don’t know what misunderstandings President Jin has lived through. She never acquired that company. That was President Su’s doing.”

“No, impossible.” Yan Qingruo shook her head. She had seen it with her own eyes—Jin Yunxi’s face, in the video Xu Xiyue had shown her.

“You mean the video?” Jin Fan denied flatly.

“That was AI-generated, using the most advanced tech. Where did you get it?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. It had been Xu Xiyue who’d shown her.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Xu Xiyue had just lost her shares to Jin Yunxi then—of course she’d harbor resentment, of course she’d resort to such tricks.

The truth spilled out at last. She had been blind, deceived for years, consumed by hatred.

Worse, her mother had sworn vengeance on Ah Yun long ago—had even drugged her, crippling her.

No wonder Jin Yunxi’s disappointment in her ran so deep.

“Ah Yun… she won’t see me. She doesn’t want me anymore…” Yan Qingruo murmured, her frail body swaying.

A moment later, she loosened her grip and lowered her head.

Her inky hair slipped forward, veiling her bloodless face.

Step by halting step, she staggered away.

Jin Fan bit his lip, torn. Should she tell President Jin that Miss Yan had learned the truth?

Inside the conference room, Jin Yunxi twirled her pen between her fingers.

Her eyes rested on the person reporting, yet her gaze was unfocused, her mind elsewhere.

Jin Fan hurried in, leaned close, and whispered in her ear:

“President Jin, Miss Yan has left… she knows everything now.”

Jin Yunxi froze.

She ought to have felt relief.

But as the voice of the presenter droned on, the words became meaningless hums—none of it could reach her heart.

After that, Yan Qingruo went to Jin’s residence to seek her out.

Each time, the butler Ivy carried out her orders and refused politely:

“President Jin isn’t home.”

Yunxi had thought, if it happened often enough, Yan Qingruo would eventually give up.

A few days later, she noticed the forecast: a night of severe thunderstorms.

She ended her work early and left the office. Along the way, staff reminded one another to shut windows tight, uneasy about the coming storm.

That evening, after her shower, a clap of thunder boomed outside. Only then did Yunxi remember the screen window was open.

As she reached to close it, the rain lashed against the glass like hail.

By chance, her gaze swept downward—then froze.

There she was.

The woman stood quietly below, figure poised, her face pale yet stunning under the flickering lightning.

Like a white blossom, fragile yet unyielding, enduring the storm.

Sensing her gaze, Yan Qingruo lifted her beautiful, bloodless face.

Her eyes, misted with sorrow, met Yunxi’s through the night sky.

Ah Yun, no matter the thunder, no matter the storm—I will wait, until you come to me.

Yunxi’s hand stilled, hovering on the window frame. For a long moment, she forgot to move.

“Beneath the heavy sky, faint thunder stirs.

If only the storm would break,

perhaps it might stir your heart to pity.”