Forced to Become the Female Lead's Beloved Wife [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 20.2: End of World 1
It seemed that when people had nothing to do, they became less sensitive to the passage of time.
Wen Yige couldn’t tell if it was her memory failing or something else, but recent events had begun to blur in her mind. It was only when she overheard a nurse mentioning it during rounds that she realized the spring equinox had already passed.
Outside the window, willow trees had sprouted new leaves, vibrant with life. A gust of wind rustled through them, filling the air with a crisp, rustling sound.
She lowered her gaze to the bluish needle marks on the back of her hand, a faint shadow of sadness flickering in her eyes.
Leaves fall and grow anew, but people don’t.
Wen Yige likely knew her days were numbered. During her lucid moments, she stared intently at Li Wancheng, unwilling to even blink.
If she could, she would carve every detail of Wancheng into her memory, then write her own name, stroke by stroke, across it all.
To warn everyone away.
Li Wancheng, feeling uneasy under her gaze, asked with a smile, “Why are you staring at me like that?” Her hands, however, moved with meticulous care, slicing a pear into small pieces and feeding them to Wen Yige’s lips.
Though only two months had passed, Wen Yige’s condition had deteriorated rapidly and irreversibly. Her weight had plummeted to just over seventy pounds, leaving her little more than a skeletal frame that barely filled her hospital gown.
Wen Yige merely touched the palm of Li Wancheng’s hand, saying nothing.
Each glance was one less. So she didn’t want to waste even a second.
Patients in the late stages of heart failure, bedridden for extended periods, are prone to bedsores and require regular repositioning and massage.
Li Wancheng didn’t trust anyone else to do it properly, so she personally handled every task.
To make caregiving easier, she bought a portable folding bed and set it up next to the hospital bed each night.
In the darkness, a crescent moon hung in the sky, its pale light illuminating the woman’s face. The illness had cruelly stolen her beauty, leaving behind only a frail, broken body.
Wen Yige gazed at her quietly, deliberately softening her breathing so as not to disturb the sleeping woman.
After a long while, as if still not satisfied, she reached out to trace the contours of Li Wancheng’s face with her fingertips.
She had grown so thin, so gaunt.
Wen Yige’s eyes stung, yet her fingertips hovered just above the woman’s skin, as if afraid to touch her.
Under the cover of night, she no longer concealed the deep love in her eyes. She leaned closer slowly, reverently, and pressed a kiss into her lover’s hair.
It was as light as a breeze skimming across water, afraid to ripple the tranquil surface.
Solemn and careful.
She whispered, “A-Cheng, I want to live so badly.”
Her voice was so soft it vanished into the air before she could even reach out to grasp it.
On the other side, where Wen Yige couldn’t see, the woman who should have been asleep slowly opened her eyes. A single tear slid silently down her cheek, disappearing into her hair without leaving a trace.
In recent days, Wen Yige’s legs had suddenly begun to swell, likely from prolonged bed rest. Her mood had inevitably darkened, and she spoke less and less. Li Wancheng had even gone online to find jokes, telling them to her whenever she had a spare moment.
Taking advantage of the perfect sunlight outside, Li Wancheng had borrowed a wheelchair and was pushing Wen Yige through the garden for some fresh air.
Though the sun was warm, its touch felt only desolate. Wen Yige wondered if she would ever see the sun again after closing her eyes tonight.
She raised her wrist, cupping a handful of sunlight in her palm. The golden light was bright and dazzling.
She couldn’t help but recall that summer years ago, when a girl as radiant as this sunlight had entered her heart and never left.
But…
The corners of her lips drooped slightly as she slowly opened her fingers, letting the light slip through the gaps.
Light cannot be held.
Every moment now felt stolen, as if it could be taken away at any moment.
“A-Cheng, if one day I’m no longer here…”
Before she could finish the hypothetical, Li Wancheng gently scolded, “Don’t talk nonsense!”
Wen Yige obediently stopped speaking, tilting her head to rest against Li Wancheng’s arm.
Deep down, both women knew this illness was incurable, and their separation was only a matter of time.
Perhaps humans instinctively avoid painful truths, so they tacitly agreed to never mention the word “separation” again.
As if by not speaking of it, they could prolong their happiness, just a little longer.
But even the brightest light must eventually fade.
Wen Yige’s condition deteriorated rapidly. She needed handfuls of painkillers just to fall asleep.
Nightmares plagued her, repeatedly calling out for her mother and A-Cheng, weeping and begging them not to leave her, not to abandon her.
She grew increasingly frail, her digestive system failing. Eating became a torturous ordeal. Yet, fearing Li Wancheng’s worry, she forced down mouthfuls of food, only to secretly vomit it all up in the bathroom after the woman left.
She thought she had concealed her actions perfectly, unaware that every moment had been witnessed by someone hiding behind the door.
Her lucid moments grew shorter, her reactions dulled. Sometimes, she didn’t even recognize Li Wancheng.
After coaxing her to sleep, the woman gently stroked Wen Yige’s hair, her eyes overflowing with tenderness.
The System finally couldn’t hold back any longer. “Host, you’re only five percent away from completion. Time is running out.”
“I know,” Li Wancheng replied.
The System opened its mouth, wanting to say more, but ultimately fell silent.
It couldn’t shake the feeling that its Host was deliberately stalling for time.
After nearly another month in the hospital, Wen Yige’s condition continued to deteriorate. She was now essentially being kept alive by medication alone.
One rare day when she was somewhat lucid, she grasped Li Wancheng’s hand and softly pleaded, “A-Cheng, I want to go home.”
To her surprise, Li Wancheng didn’t argue this time. Instead, she gently agreed.
Liu Liang had subtly told her that given Wen Yige’s current physical state, staying in the hospital any longer would be of little benefit.
The unspoken message was clear: prepare yourself mentally and make arrangements for her final affairs.
Perhaps buoyed by the joy of returning home, Wen Yige seemed more spirited than usual that day, showing no signs of fatigue during the journey.
“A-Cheng, I want to take you to see my mother. Would you come with me?”
Li Wancheng paused slightly. “Of course.”
She knew that her mother’s passing remained a raw wound in Wen Yige’s heart, a topic she rarely dared to broach.
She never expected Wen Yige to bring it up herself.
On the day they visited the cemetery, a light rain fell, and dark clouds blanketed the sky like a gray curtain.
“Mom, you always said you wanted to see me settle down. Today, I’ve brought her here,” Wen Yige said, her voice tinged with a sweet happiness as the white chrysanthemums swayed in the wind. “She’s the girl I told you about before, the one I love so much.”
“You don’t need to worry. She treats me so well, and we’re very happy.”
Li Wancheng knelt beside her and respectfully kowtowed three times.
Wen Yige took one last look at the photo on the tombstone before slowly straightening up. “Let’s go.”
Perhaps from kneeling for too long, she felt dizzy as she stood. The wet ground was slippery, and she lost her footing, stumbling backward.
Fortunately, Li Wancheng was beside her and swiftly caught her by the waist, preventing a fall.
After regaining her balance, Wen Yige leaned against Li Wancheng’s shoulder, breathing softly, still shaken by the near-accident.
“The path is slippery here. I’ll carry you down,” Li Wancheng said, visibly shaken by the incident. She couldn’t bear to let Wen Yige walk alone again.
The steps were long, and Wen Yige worried about tiring Li Wancheng. She shook her head. “No need, I can walk myself.”
This woman was clearly struggling to even stand, yet she remained stubbornly insistent. Li Wancheng frowned, unusually refusing to yield, making it clear she wouldn’t move until Wen Yige agreed to be carried.
Seeing the rain intensifying, Wen Yige had no choice but to relent. She slowly wrapped her arms around Li Wancheng’s neck and leaned against her back.
Though Li Wancheng’s shoulders weren’t particularly broad, they radiated an immeasurable sense of security. She walked with deliberate slowness and unwavering steadiness, as if carrying a fragile treasure.
Wen Yige adjusted the umbrella to avoid blocking Li Wancheng’s view. “Am I too heavy?”
In truth, she weighed almost nothing, so light it seemed impossible for an adult.
Li Wancheng’s nose stung with emotion. Afraid Wen Yige would see her tears, she forced a smile and replied, “Fairies grow up drinking dew. How could they be heavy?”
The two were so close that, despite Li Wancheng’s best efforts to conceal it, Wen Yige still caught the faint nasal tone in her voice.
An overwhelming wave of sorrow crashed over her. Clinging to Li Wancheng’s shoulder, she bit down hard on her lower lip, desperate to suppress any hint of a sob.
This path, meant to be walked together, had ultimately been left for Li Wancheng to tread alone.
*****
The final catalyst was all that remained to reach a 100% healing value.
Li Wancheng stared at the small diamond ring in her palm, a sudden sense of loss rising in her heart.
Wen Yige was leaning against the sofa, reading a book. Due to her limited mobility, reading was her only daily pastime.
The soft, amber glow of the nightstand lamp illuminated the room as Li Wancheng slowly walked over and sat beside her. Their eyes met, and Li Wancheng gently asked, “Yige, will you marry me?”
Wen Yige froze, a flicker of surprise and joy flashing across her eyes before quickly fading.
“A-Cheng, I can’t…” She lowered her gaze, pulling her hand free from Li Wancheng’s grasp.
How could someone half-buried in the grave drag Li Wancheng down with her? She shouldn’t be tied to me; she deserves a better future.
Wen Yige took a half-step back, trying to escape, but Li Wancheng blocked her path.
“Do you love me?” Li Wancheng asked directly, leaving no room for evasion.
Inside Wen Yige’s heart, two warring voices clashed, their battle unresolved.
The intensity of Li Wancheng’s gaze was overwhelming. Wen Yige bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes.
After a long moment, she lowered her gaze and whispered, “Love.”
How could she not love her? She loved her so fiercely that she wanted to possess her entirely, even harboring the wicked thought of dragging her to the underworld.
Yet, because she loved her so deeply, she couldn’t bear to see her suffer even the slightest harm.
“Then do you want to marry me?” Li Wancheng pressed relentlessly, giving her no room to think.
She didn’t ask if Wen Yige would marry her, but if she wanted to.
Like finding the weakest spot in an eggshell, she effortlessly shattered the defenses Wen Yige had desperately erected.
Conflicting emotions churned within her heart. Wen Yige felt like a rope burning at both ends.
But Li Wancheng’s eyes were so bright, so focused, reflecting only her.
She surrendered.
She finally couldn’t hold back her true feelings any longer. Sobbing, she slumped against the woman’s chest, repeating over and over, “I do, A-Cheng, I want to marry you…”
She couldn’t feign relief. She loved Li Wancheng to her very core.
Her hand was taken again, and the ring slid slowly onto her finger.
She was trapped.
“A-Cheng, love me one more time…” Wen Yige whispered urgently in her ear.
Her body was already at its limit from their passionate lovemaking, yet she still begged for this final intimacy with her beloved.
Though they hadn’t been intimate in a long time, the moment their skin touched, it felt instantly familiar, a scorching tremor running through them. They clung to each other with desperate intensity, as if facing the end of the world, plunging into a realm between heaven and earth.
Li Wancheng, worried about Wen Yige’s frail health, periodically pressed her ear to Wen Yige’s chest, checking her heartbeat to ensure it remained within a normal range before proceeding.
Every movement was gentle, like ripples on water.
Wen Yige seemed to be both suffering and reveling in Li Wancheng’s ministrations, her mind clear yet filled with despair.
At the peak of their passion, a tear slid from the corner of her eye. She clung tightly to Li Wancheng’s back, like a traveler lost at sea desperately grasping at the last piece of driftwood.
In her heart, she silently repeated “I love you” countless times, until finally, all her strength seemed to drain away.
I can’t bear to let go, she thought.
A-Cheng, you must forget me…
Once was her limit. Wen Yige drifted into an exhausted sleep. After cleaning her up, Li Wancheng suddenly noticed a sharp corner peeking out from under the pillow.
The material was parchment, like a document pouch.
Probably the vigorous movements had dislodged the pillow. Li Wancheng was about to tuck it back in when the sleeping woman suddenly rolled over, causing the pouch to slip off the edge of the bed and fall to the floor.
Perhaps it hadn’t been tightly secured, as several pages slid out.
Li Wancheng paid little attention as she bent down to pick them up. But when she saw the two words on the paper, she felt as if she had plunged into an ice cellar.
The thin pages felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Her fingertips trembled slightly as she fought back the bitterness rising in her throat, reading each word as if it were tearing her apart.
“All Wen Corporation shares held by me are to be transferred to Li Wancheng. The remainder of my personal assets are to be donated in full to orphanages.”
Beneath the will was another document: a contract for the purchase of a burial plot.
Li Wancheng clutched the papers, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip, silent tears streaming down her face.
In the end, she had left nothing for herself…
Except for a burial plot she had chosen two years ago, in the same cemetery where Li Wancheng had once accompanied her.
*****
The next morning, as Wen Yige watered the sunflowers, she turned to see a tall woman leaning languidly against the doorframe, clad in a thin silk nightgown, her figure graceful and alluring.
She smiled. “A-Cheng, the flowers are in full bloom.”
The sunflowers in the courtyard all faced the same direction, the sun their revered deity.
To have someone remember every word she had ever spoken and plant a courtyard full of sunflowers for her in this city of steel and concrete…
How fortunate she was.
“I love you,” Wen Yige suddenly declared, her gaze meeting hers, her tone soft yet solemn. After a moment, she added with a smile, “So, so much.”
Normally reserved with words, she rarely spoke of love, preferring to show it through actions rather than words.
The healing value had already reached ninety-nine percent when she put on the wedding ring last night.
The final sliver slowly filled this morning, the moment Wen Yige confessed her love.
Li Wancheng stared blankly at the progress bar, now completely filled with red.
Her mission was to heal the Female Lead. This meant that as long as the healing value reached one hundred percent before Wen Yige’s death, the mission would be considered complete.
So, was this… finally the end?
Everything around her seemed to freeze. Li Wancheng’s vision blurred, making it even harder to see Wen Yige’s face. A chime rang in her ear: “Mission complete. Preparing…”
“Wait,” Li Wancheng’s voice was uncharacteristically hoarse. She stared at Wen Yige’s profile, unwilling to look away. “Let me stay with her until the end.”
The System hesitated. Technically, it wasn’t against the rules, but… it was concerned.
“She doesn’t have much time left,” the woman murmured, her eyes half-closed.
Wen Yige’s fate in this lifetime had run its course.
The System didn’t immediately agree, as if weighing its options. After all, this was the Host’s first world, and such emotional attachment was understandable.
Humans with emotions are bound by them.
Perhaps sensing Li Wancheng’s profound sorrow, the System finally relented.
The red progress bar abruptly turned gray, as if someone had pressed the pause button.
Li Wancheng let out a small sigh of relief. She knew deep down that this was just a mission. Once it ended, Wen Yige would become nothing more than cold data—a memory lost forever.
But…
She had spent a significant amount of time by Wen Yige’s side in this lifetime. Even a pet would form a bond after years together, let alone a living, breathing person.
*****
In the second week after their proposal, she took Wen Yige to see the ocean. On the way back, Wen Yige suddenly suffered a heart attack.
Li Wancheng had anticipated this day would come eventually, but she never imagined it would arrive so soon.
In the intensive care unit, Wen Yige lay covered in tubes, an oxygen mask pressed tightly against her face.
The doctor told Li Wancheng to come in and say her final goodbyes.
“In the room… the pillow…” Wen Yige struggled to speak, each word forced out with immense effort. Li Wancheng had to lean close to her cheek to hear.
“I saw it,” Li Wancheng said, squeezing her hand. “The things you left for me.”
Wen Yige’s lips twitched into a faint smile.
Having endured so much hardship in her own life, she had always wished for the children to have a happy childhood, unlike her own.
She didn’t know what to leave for Li Wancheng, so she simply left her everything she had.
“A-Cheng… I used to think… my life would always be this bitter. But heaven took pity on me and brought you into my life.”
She thought to herself, I’m like that sunflower, and Li Wancheng is the sudden ray of sunlight that pierced through my dim life.
Sunflowers turn toward the sun; she turned toward her.
“A-Cheng, don’t cry. I have no regrets,” she murmured, her fingertips twitching as she tried to wipe away the tears on the woman’s face, only to realize she couldn’t even manage such a simple gesture.
She tugged at the corners of her lips, forcing a faint smile. “Meeting you in this life… I’ll never regret it. In the next life, let’s be together properly, okay?”
Li Wancheng bit down hard on her lower lip, nearly drawing blood, but couldn’t bring herself to say the word “okay.” Instead, she gripped Wen Yige’s hand even tighter.
I’ve already lied to her once in this life. I won’t lie to her again.
Wen Yige didn’t wait for an answer. She didn’t blame her.
With her last ounce of strength, she parted her lips, her breath so weak it was barely audible. But she knew Li Wancheng would understand.
She whispered, “It’s okay… I love you.”
As the EKG flatlined, the System’s monotone voice echoed in her mind:
[Preparing for transmission.]
*****
Note:
An electrocardiogram (ECG or EKG) is a quick test to check the heartbeat. It records the electrical signals in the heart.
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Wynonah
To the author, thank you for this story, wherever you are🖕🏻. To the translator, I love and hate you for this. It’s absolutely so beautiful that now I’m stuck staring at the ceiling and would probably need months in order to recover.