After the Black Moonlight’s "Death Escape" Failed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 77

Chapter 77: Ten Years Later

◎How did she become the version of herself she disliked most?◎

Wen Fengyue waited tensely for Jiao Qingyin to continue. Her look of anxious anticipation made Jiao Qingyin swallow back the words “Little Moon” that were on the tip of her tongue.

Darn it, this kid seems to be seriously waiting for me to give her a new name…

Jiao Qingyin’s gaze drifted slightly, scanning the surroundings for inspiration. Before she could find any, strange noises erupted from outside the door. It started with the thud of a heavy object hitting the floor and a few sharp arguments, which eventually escalated into a full-scale commotion.

After a moment, Wen Dong’s voice, thick with suppressed rage, rang out: “What is going on!”

As soon as he appeared, the other noises quieted down. Through the door, Jiao Qingyin and Wen Fengyue couldn’t make out the specifics of the situation, but they could vaguely identify words like “Xiao Zhang” and “hospital.”

Jiao Qingyin glanced at Wen Fengyue on the bed, intending to float outside to investigate. However, Wen Fengyue had also sat up, her eyes fixed on the door.

“…Something happened outside.”

Though she said “something happened,” Jiao Qingyin noted her expression looked quite pleased with the turn of events. If the entire manor had caught fire, she would likely have been even happier.

By now, the chaotic sounds outside the door had ceased, replaced by the wail of an ambulance siren from the window. Wen Fengyue froze. The Wen residence had a dedicated medical room and a private medical team; the family doctor could handle almost any illness, large or small. For an ambulance to be called… Wen Fengyue’s heart raced. She threw back the covers and, clutching the little snow leopard, trotted to the window to peer down.

Jiao Qingyin floated behind her, feeling a sudden, inexplicable urge to pick the girl up and pat her head.

Wen Fengyue watched from the window for only a minute or two before she saw doctors carrying a stretcher, loading a person into the ambulance. From her angle, she could clearly see who it was—Aunt Zhang, who had been scared into a breakdown by Jiao Qingyin not long ago.

“…Pity,” Wen Fengyue said, her tiptoes settling back onto the flat floor. She would have been happier if it were Wen Ziyuan on that stretcher.

Jiao Qingyin was also watching the scene below. The usually quiet and tidy entrance of the villa was a mess of activity, but the most interesting part… was that Xiao Zhang, the son, was not by Aunt Zhang’s side. Furthermore, according to Wen Dong’s arrangements, the mentally unstable Aunt Zhang should have been sent to the hospital long ago. The fact that it had been delayed until now meant an accident must have occurred.

Wen Fengyue watched for a while longer until the night chill became too much, causing her to let out a couple of coughs.

“Go back to bed,” Jiao Qingyin looked down at her. The girl’s hair was a bit messy from sleep, making it look fluffy and soft to the touch. Wen Fengyue paused, thought of something unknown, and then obediently crawled back under the covers.

Jiao Qingyin let out a yawn and settled into the girl’s body. She was secretly glad Wen Fengyue had forgotten about the naming business; otherwise, she would have had to force herself to think through her drowsiness.

As her consciousness began to blur, Jiao Qingyin sensed something was off: Wasn’t this level of fatigue a bit too extreme? Was her frequent weakness simply due to her ghost form, or was there another reason…? Her mental alarms went off, but she was helplessly dragged deeper into sleep, deeper and deeper—

“…Are you still awake?”

Jiao Qingyin heard Wen Fengyue asking her a question. She opened her mouth to answer, but not a sound came out.

“…” Wen Fengyue was quiet for a while. She rolled over and whispered to the air, “…It feels like a dream.”

She seemed to be talking to herself and to Jiao Qingyin simultaneously, her voice growing smaller and smaller. Finally: “When I wake up tomorrow, will you still be by my side?”

Since her rebirth, Wen Fengyue felt she had understood many things. The thin veil that had clouded her mind and forced her to endure pain in silence had been torn away by her own hands. She thought she wouldn’t be afraid of anything anymore, yet now, in this quiet and warm environment, her spine chilled with fear.

She feared that Jiao Qingyin’s existence was merely her own delusion—a bizarre yet beautiful dream. Especially since she couldn’t touch the person living inside her body; if the other didn’t speak, she had no way of knowing if Jiao Qingyin was still in this world.

Wen Fengyue couldn’t help but hug her plushie tighter, her voice trembling slightly. “…Will you still be here?”

“Will you… stay with me forever?”

Wen Fengyue said a lot, but she didn’t receive a single reply. The room was silent, with only her own voice echoing hollowly.

Wen Fengyue spent a toss-and-turn night. To keep herself from falling asleep, whenever her eyelids grew heavy, she would pinch her arm hard or bite her lip. By the time morning came, her arm was covered in bruises, and her lips were severely injured from repeated bleeding.

But in the end, she couldn’t hold out and fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes to the bright daylight, Wen Fengyue’s heart stopped for a second. She immediately sat up. “Jiao Jiao—are you still there?”

One second, two seconds…

Just as Wen Fengyue was tensed like a pulled bowstring, Jiao Qingyin’s voice rang out: “I’m here.”

Hearing the weary reply, Wen Fengyue relaxed completely. Her movement getting out of bed was clumsy, and she nearly tripped. But none of that dampened her joy. She sat before the mirror and gave a pure, bright smile. “Good morning, Jiao Jiao.”

Jiao Qingyin had truly stayed awake all night. she had used all her mental energy to resist sleep; her intuition told her that if she fell asleep, something uncontrollable would happen. She forced herself to stay awake, but consequently, she had no strength to move or speak. It wasn’t until the sun rose that she gradually regained the initiative over the body.

During the night, she had wanted to stop Wen Fengyue’s self-harming behavior countless times, yet she couldn’t move a single finger. That long-lost feeling of helplessness reminded her of her own near-death experience. This put Jiao Qingyin in a foul mood. She sent the system to report an error to headquarters while staring into the mirror with Wen Fengyue. Because the possession state consumed relatively less energy, she didn’t want to move.

“Good morning,” Jiao Qingyin responded first, then added, “Before you eat, you’d better treat those wounds.”

Wen Fengyue snapped to, instinctively pulling down her sleeves to hide the marks on her arms. “I’m fine…”

Wen Fengyue was used to pain; these self-inflicted bruises wouldn’t bother her if Jiao Qingyin hadn’t mentioned them—they would heal quickly anyway. Jiao Qingyin guessed the child’s thoughts just by her expression. She didn’t try to persuade her with “take care of yourself” logic. Instead, after a few seconds of thought, she said: “If you don’t treat the wounds, it will be very painful when it’s my turn to use the body.”

As expected, Wen Fengyue froze.

A moment later, Wen Fengyue pulled a small soft stool from under the bed, moved it to the bookshelf, and stepped up. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching for the top compartment that held the household medical kit. In the past, whenever she fell or caught a cold, her mother would find the medicine for her. Now that it was her turn, Wen Fengyue realized it was placed so high.

Jiao Qingyin watched as Wen Fengyue strained her calves into a straight line, still falling just a bit short, and couldn’t help but chuckle. Wen Fengyue heard it, her cheeks flushing a light pink and her jaw tightening.

But before she could step down to complain, she suddenly touched the handle of the medical kit. “…!” Wen Fengyue instinctively grabbed the handle and pulled it out. She clutched the kit to her chest, dazed, thinking she had just reached it because the laughter had spurred her to stand higher.

Jiao Qingyin, whose upper body had emerged from her, flexed her fingers, satisfied with her first experiment in telekinesis. However, after using the ability, she felt significantly more tired and immediately retreated back into Wen Fengyue’s body.

Under Jiao Qingyin’s guidance, Wen Fengyue showed her the medicine boxes one by one. Once the latter picked out a swelling-reduction ointment, Wen Fengyue applied it to her injuries in the mirror. After finishing, she instinctively pointed to her mouth. “All done.”

As soon as she spoke, Wen Fengyue regretted it. She sounded too much like a child seeking praise after finishing a task… she wasn’t actually a child, how could she—

Jiao Qingyin also thought she was waiting for a compliment and casually praised: “Mm-hmm, good job.”

Wen Fengyue’s ears turned red. If the other weren’t inside her body, she would have dived into bed and buried her face in the covers.

Jiao Qingyin didn’t notice the embarrassment; she was fighting another wave of drowsiness. Her voice grew softer. “…You need a warm compress for the bruises on your arm.”

Wen Fengyue agreed. At first, her movements were clumsy, but after a few instructions from Jiao Qingyin, she quickly and skillfully applied a warm towel and medicinal oil to the worst spots. She carefully followed every word Jiao Qingyin said, her obedience making Jiao Qingyin smile. Raising a kid is so easy, Jiao Qingyin thought.

Relaxing slightly, Jiao Qingyin let out another yawn. Wen Fengyue heard it and couldn’t help but say: “Did you not sleep well? Do you want to rest for a while longer?” She worried her tossing and turning last night had affected the other.

“Hmm…?” Jiao Qingyin’s consciousness began to fade, but the system report still hadn’t received a reply from headquarters. Fearing something was wrong, she didn’t dare sleep. “No need… besides, today is important. Don’t worry about me, go downstairs first.”

Hearing this, Wen Fengyue’s hand reaching for her toothbrush paused. After a long while, she moved again and whispered, “Okay.”

Today was the seventh day since Wen Shuling’s death. In her last life, she had missed this important day because she fell in the water and was forced to kneel. Wen Shuling came from a wealthy family, but because she insisted on marrying Wen Dong—a self-made man with no background—she had a fallout with her family and nearly cut ties. In her last life, Wen Fengyue hadn’t participated in the mourning, so she didn’t know if anything happened that day. But since she had never met her maternal grandparents’ family, she assumed they hadn’t forgiven her mother’s rebellion.

After washing up, Wen Fengyue chose a pure black dress and a white hair ornament. Just as she finished, there was a knock at the door. The person knocking was impatient; after two perfunctory thuds, they twisted the knob. Finding it locked, the person paused, then scolded: “Wen—”

Wen Fengyue opened the door and looked up at Wen Dong. “Good morning.”

She tried to say “Father,” but the disgust was so strong she couldn’t get the word out. Fortunately, Wen Dong didn’t notice this detail. Seeing that Wen Fengyue had prepared herself without the help of servants and that her attire was flawless, his expression softened.

Wang Qinrong stood beside him. Seeing Wen Fengyue emerge perfectly dressed, the smile on her face stiffened. Just then, Wen Dong patted her arm and said, “I told you to remind Fengyue yesterday; it seems you did a good job.”

Wang Qinrong gave an awkward smile. She hadn’t said a word, hoping Wen Fengyue would mess up today. Who knew this kid was so clever—Wang Qinrong’s eye twitched as she glared at the child. If it wasn’t for this brat, how could her Xiao Yuan have remained unconscious until this morning, and be so scared that she still couldn’t speak!

To her surprise, Wen Fengyue was looking right back at her. Those strangely colored eyes were vacant, with no light in them, looking just like…

Recalling Aunt Zhang screaming about “ghosts” and “dying” yesterday, Wang Qinrong shivered and took a large step back. However, she stepped on something, her high heel snapped, and she lost her balance. She screamed, instinctively reaching for the nearest thing.

Before Wen Dong realized what was happening, he felt a chill on his back. He looked down slowly to see a large scrap of fabric drifting to his feet. The color was familiar… the same as his suit.

Wang Qinrong had twisted her ankle and groaned on the floor for a long time, but Wen Dong didn’t come to help her. Frustrated and angry, she looked up only to see his face dark with rage.

“Get up!” Wen Dong scolded, suppressed his anger. He then strode toward the walk-in closet. He had maintained an affair with Wang Qinrong for eight years and they rarely fought, making him feel she was his true love. But in the last two days, her performance had been deeply disappointing. From letting Wen Ziyuan bully his legitimate daughter to today’s absurd lack of decorum… Wen Dong suddenly felt that his mistress was just a mistress—she lacked grace and couldn’t compare to…

The image of his late, gentle wife appeared in his mind, and his pace quickened.

Wang Qinrong lay on the ground for a while before reacting to Wen Dong’s cold treatment. She tried to use the wall to stand, but the pain in her ankle caused her to fall again. This time she fell face-first, her left cheek hitting the floor hard, leaving a large red mark.

Someone let out a laugh.

That low laugh stung Wang Qinrong’s brain. After being helped up by a servant, she angrily pointed her finger at everyone around her. “Who was it! Who was laughing?!”

Everyone she pointed at looked terrified, except—Wen Fengyue, who was staring at her without moving. When their eyes met, Wen Fengyue’s lips curled into a cold, emotionless smile. Wang Qinrong felt another shiver of horror, but Wen Fengyue simply walked past her.

She held up her skirt and walked down the stairs, Jiao Qingyin’s soft voice in her ear: “Go to the main hall. I see someone very familiar… possibly a relative from your mother’s side.”

Wen Fengyue didn’t ask how Jiao Qingyin saw someone she couldn’t; she trusted her unconditionally. They soon reached the hall. Because of the accident upstairs, Wen Fengyue was the first family member to arrive. There were only a few people in the hall, and besides the servants, Wen Fengyue immediately spotted the person Jiao Qingyin mentioned.

The person was wearing a black suit and sitting at the tea table with a sour expression, looking as if they might explode at any moment. Most importantly—this person shared seventy percent of her mother’s features. Wen Fengyue stopped in her tracks, suddenly afraid to move forward.

Jiao Qingyin had already found the answer in the system database: this was Wen Shuling’s younger sister. She had also come to the Wen house on this day in the previous life. But back then, she hadn’t seen Wen Fengyue; she only heard Wen Dong—who was too proud to admit he had made his daughter kneel until she was sick—say “the kid doesn’t want to attend the mourning.” She had come in a rage and left in a rage, canceling her plan to take Wen Fengyue back to her maternal home and telling her family never to bother with her sister’s family again.

After reading the character summary, Jiao Qingyin exhaled slowly. Though the sister was hot-tempered and impulsive, she had been very close to Wen Shuling and truly wanted to take Wen Fengyue home. Following her would be far better than staying in the hellish Wen house.

Thinking of this, Jiao Qingyin presented these facts as her own deductions to Wen Fengyue.

“You want me to go with her…?” Wen Fengyue was in a daze. From her vantage point, she could clearly see her “Aunt’s” expression. Although the woman looked impatient and kept checking the time, the grief in her eyes when she looked at the memorial tablet was unmistakable.

Jiao Qingyin’s consciousness was now extremely thin. Hearing the question, she had no strength to analyze the pros and cons further. She only said: “It is the best choice.” Whether she wanted revenge or to let go of the past, this was the best choice.

With that, a surge of pain shot from her temples to her brain, and Jiao Qingyin fell into a deep sleep. She missed Wen Fengyue’s next words: “Jiao Jiao… no matter where I go, will you be with me?”

Receiving no answer, Wen Fengyue froze. “Jiao Jiao?” She stood by the stair railing, calling out in her mind many times, but her cries were like pebbles thrown into a deep well—after a “plop,” not a single ripple remained.

When Jiao Qingyin opened her eyes, she immediately noticed something was wrong. She wasn’t where she had been before her consciousness vanished. Instead, she was in… a brightly lit classroom.

For a moment, Jiao Qingyin thought she had transmigrated to a new world. But the next second, her gaze caught the nearest desk. On the name line of the exam paper sat three words: “Wen Fengyue.” The handwriting was wild, clearly written in a hurry. Next to the name was the class: “3-1.”

Jiao Qingyin kept her calm and tried to float up—it worked. As soon as she detached from the possession, she turned to look at Wen Fengyue. However, she was stunned by what she saw. Is this person… Wen Fengyue?

“Host! Host!” The system detected Jiao Qingyin’s brainwaves and cried out in joy, “You’re finally awake!”

“Finally”? Jiao Qingyin caught the keyword and asked in a low voice: “How long was I asleep?”

“Ten years—!” The system’s mechanical voice actually sounded like it was sobbing. “The Host wouldn’t wake up, so the system reported an error. Headquarters said the world consciousness was performing a self-correction—only seconds ago did the system receive notice that the correction ended and you regained consciousness…!”

…Ten years?

Jiao Qingyin immediately checked her state—everything was fine. Her spiritual body was light, her energy was abundant, and she no longer felt the intermittent fatigue from before. Since she was still a ghost and still possessed Wen Fengyue, it meant the world consciousness hadn’t corrected her, but some other error…

“Was it because of the error in the timing of my deployment?” Jiao Qingyin asked.

The system, about to explain, froze and then replied: “Yes. Headquarters said the Administration was supposed to drop you into the protagonist’s first life at age seven, but the world consciousness tried to backtrack several times and couldn’t send you there, so…”

“So…?” Jiao Qingyin asked, suppressing her anger as she surveyed the room.

The system shook, its words stammering: “So, it had to give up on the backtracking. But your mental power was consumed too much in the process, and… you just didn’t wake up.”

No wonder she had felt so inexplicably tired… Jiao Qingyin gave a dark hum, appearing to accept the explanation, but only she knew her true thoughts. She turned her attention back to the silver-haired girl. It wasn’t that she hadn’t recognized Wen Fengyue, but… the changes over these ten years were simply too great.

Ten years ago, the girl was as beautiful as a delicate doll, with smooth hair, fair skin, and sparkling blue-green eyes. Back then, whatever she said, Wen Fengyue would mostly listen, despite some stubbornness, and would call her “Jiao Jiao” in a soft, cute voice.

But now… Jiao Qingyin looked at the Wen Fengyue before her: short, messy hair, a face full of gloom and defiance, bandages around her neck, and scratches on her exposed arms and legs. The words “I’m back” got stuck in her throat. She remembered that she had used her last bit of strength to point out a bright path for her—to live with her Aunt.

Did she not do that?

Jiao Qingyin couldn’t describe the feeling in her heart. Logically, she had only known Wen Fengyue for less than a day; she shouldn’t be having such a large emotional reaction. Whether to hide her feelings or observe the environment, Jiao Qingyin turned to look at the other people in the classroom. These students wore uniform school clothes and were buried in their work. The room was so quiet that only the scratching of pens, occasional sneezing, the sound of dragging chairs, or a pen dropping could be heard.

So they were in an exam?

Jiao Qingyin snapped back and looked at Wen Fengyue again. The girl was propping up her chin with one hand, looking out the window. She wasn’t holding a pen, nor had she answered any questions. Looking closer, Jiao Qingyin noticed she had ear piercings, dyed hair, and was chewing a piece of candy… the image of a total rebel.

“…” Jiao Qingyin silently looked at the sky.

How did she become this… the version of her she liked the least.

Jiao Qingyin suddenly didn’t want to greet Wen Fengyue. After all, though she had wounds and looked thin, she clearly could take care of herself and probably didn’t need her worrying. Perhaps Wen Fengyue had even progressed her revenge plan significantly.

Just then, the bell for the end of the exam rang. Before the teacher could even finish saying “hand in your papers,” Wen Fengyue grabbed her bag and walked out the back door. She walked quickly and, after a short while, simply started running.

Jiao Qingyin was pulled along with her. The images in her vision blurred as they sped past; the Dean’s voice shouting “Stop right there! Points off for running in the hallway!” was left far behind as they jumped through a window.

Wen Fengyue was like a gust of wind.