After Transmigrating Into a Cannon Fodder, I Got a Happy Ending with the Female Lead [Transmigration Into a Novel] - Chapter 22

Zhang Jianhua was so terrified his liver and gallbladder felt like they were splitting, his tongue tied in knots, cold sweat pouring down his face. Seeing him like that, Xiaojing sneered in disdain.

“For someone sitting on billions in wealth, you really don’t care about personal hygiene. Filthy.”

Her tone was like that of a coquettish young girl, soft and timid, but paired with her bellows-like, rasping voice, it carried an indescribable eeriness.

Zhang Jianhua nearly pissed himself. After a long while, he finally stammered, trembling all over:
“X–Xiaojing, y–you… these years, have you… have you been well? Actually, I–I never forgot you, I…”

Been well? What a funny question.

You sacrificed me, and you dare ask if I’ve been well?

Xiaojing sneered inwardly, eyes brimming with resentment.

She wrapped her arms around Zhang Jianhua’s neck, rested her chin on his shoulder, her face pressed against his, clinging like a lover.

“Really?”

Zhang Jianhua went completely numb, frozen like a wooden puppet.

“R–really.”

Xiaojing laughed, her voice echoing far in the dark, empty space.

“Then are you willing to do anything for me?”

Zhang Jianhua fell silent. His instincts told him that answering would bring disaster—after all, back then he had asked Xiaojing the same thing.

But if he didn’t answer, Xiaojing would never let him go.

He grew so anxious he nearly wet himself. Sweat poured off him in rivers, carrying a foul stench.

When she got no reply, Xiaojing’s hand slid across his neck, then her long fingernails suddenly pierced deep into his flesh.

Zhang Jianhua screamed like a slaughtered pig. Xiaojing forced his face to meet hers, her dull, gray eyes rolling as she asked with mock concern:
“Darling, what’s wrong? I just wanted to caress you—don’t you like it?”

As she spoke, her fingers dug deeper, half a joint buried in his flesh.

Zhang Jianhua sweated so hard the drops rolled down his greasy belly.

Blood and sweat mixed, making anyone watching want to gag.

“X–Xiaojing, spare me! Please… I beg you!”

He wept miserably, a pitiful yet disgusting sight. Xiaojing glanced at him in revulsion, then pulled her hand out.

Three bloody holes gaped on Zhang Jianhua’s neck, blood trickling out. His face twisted in pain, small eyes brimming with tears, terror stark in his gaze.

If Xiaojing weren’t holding him in place, he’d already be on his knees.

Flicking the blood from her fingers, Xiaojing muttered with disgust:
“Filthy.”

Zhang Jianhua kept whispering pleas for mercy, until Xiaojing smacked him hard across the face, knocking his head sideways.

“Shut up! You’re noisy!”

He immediately fell silent, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Xiaojing stood, looked around his soccer-field-sized bedroom, then turned back.
“So, you’ve been enjoying everything you gained from sacrificing me, haven’t you?”

Zhang Jianhua scrambled to say:
“Xiaojing, I was wrong! Please, give me another chance! All these years I’ve regretted it every moment. I never married, I’ve always been alone.”

If she didn’t know the truth, Xiaojing might almost have been moved by his pitiful confession.

But the truth was—after sacrificing her, his life was tainted. If he married, it would ruin his fortune.

A man so obsessed with money would never risk that.

Not marrying didn’t mean he couldn’t sleep around. With his wealth, what kind of woman couldn’t he buy?

Over the years, he had slept with at least hundreds, if not thousands.

Disgusting!

“You never married or had children—was that because you couldn’t forget me?”

Xiaojing leaned close, staring unblinking at him.

Zhang Jianhua latched onto her words, nodding frantically:
“Yes! Yes! I never forgot you! All these years, you’ve always been the woman I loved most. I regret what I did back then, but I didn’t know how to make amends. I’ve lived every day in remorse.”

As he spoke, he gripped her hand, trying to display his “deep affection.”

Xiaojing grinned, her mouth stretching to her ears, her throat a bottomless black void.

Zhang Jianhua’s hands trembled violently, but he forced himself to act sincere. His eyes, however, betrayed him.

She suddenly recalled—this man was once a handsome youth. When he swore to protect her forever, it had been so touching.

But who could have guessed that beneath that fair skin lay such a venomous heart?

“Darling, do you still love me?”

Zhang Jianhua nodded like a pecking chicken, gripping her hand so hard it seemed he would crush it.

Xiaojing didn’t mind, only asked again:
“Then are you willing to do anything for me?”

Once more, Zhang Jianhua hesitated. This time, Xiaojing didn’t bother with words. She shoved her hand straight into his heart.

His mouth gaped wide, his breath ragged, unable to speak.

Xiaojing smiled darkly, her nails piercing into his heart, expression one of satisfaction.

“Didn’t you say you loved me? Then why won’t you answer?”

Zhang Jianhua struggled to speak, but it was far too late.

Blood soaked the bed. The man collapsed, barely alive, gasping for mercy. The ghostly woman sat amid the pool of blood, gazing down at him.

“Don’t worry. We still have two whole days together. I’ll play with you slowly.”

At that, Zhang Jianhua’s eyes rolled back and he fainted.

In the pitch-dark mansion, a sinister, shrill laugh echoed. The wind howled, curtains and tablecloths flapping with a “puff-puff” sound, eerie beyond words.

Lying in bed, Yue Xi couldn’t sleep at all. The little cat beside her, however, slept soundly, occasionally nudging into her arms.

She remembered everything that had happened in the illusion, and that night she hardly dared to look at Xiaoqing.

Although Xiaojing said illusions came from her own deepest desires, she refused to admit she harbored any improper thoughts about Xiaoqing.

Clearly, it was the influence of the ghost realm clouding her mind!

Besides, Xiaoqing was just a child. That would be too depraved!

Yet… the two Xiaoqings in her dreams seemed different. Could the first one have been Xiaoqing as an adult?

Her mind a jumble, Yue Xi rolled over—only to meet Xiaoqing’s bright eyes staring back at her.

“Elder sister, why aren’t you asleep?”

Yue Xi: Hard to explain. I can’t exactly say it’s because of you.

Thinking of something, Yue Xi cautiously asked:
“Xiaoqing, do you remember what happened in the illusion?”

Xiaoqing blinked, then smiled sweetly.

“I don’t. I only remember we got pulled in. After that, nothing.”

Since her sister didn’t remember, she felt no need to either. After all, it was just a dream.

Xiaoqing wanted to ask who Qing he was, but she feared it would make both of them unhappy, so she swallowed the question.

Hearing her say she didn’t remember, Yue Xi felt relieved—yet also oddly disappointed.

Such conflicting feelings—did she want Xiaoqing to remember, or to forget?

“Are you unable to sleep because of what happened in the illusion?”

Xiaoqing leaned closer, their noses nearly touching. Yue Xi’s breath caught, and she suddenly pulled Xiaoqing into her arms.

“It’s nothing. Sleep. Tomorrow we’ll head into the city.”

Xiaoqing’s heart pounded, her face burning hotter and hotter. She shifted slightly out of Yue Xi’s embrace, took a deep breath, then shut her eyes.

In the illusion, they had slept like this almost every day, so Yue Xi held her naturally—forgetting it was only a dream.

Xiaoqing’s racing heart gradually calmed. A smile spread across her face, warmth filling her chest.

Her sister’s embrace was so comforting. If only it could be like this every day.

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