How Did the Female Lead in the Angst Novel Become My Ex-Wife’s Sister? - Chapter 14

The alternating shifts between cold and heat, combined with the warmth from the braziers in the private room, left Pei Linlang’s head feeling heavier and more muddled. After several cups of tea, she was teetering on the edge of sleep.

In the afternoon, the sky grew overcast. Though it was still early, many households along the long streets had already lit their lanterns.

Violent winds churned the dark clouds, sending lanterns of all colors swaying precariously. As Linlang stepped out of the pavilion, she was met head-on by a blast of wind and frost. Through the swirling white, the Shen estate’s carriage remained waiting at the gate, its roof covered in a thick layer of snow. The driver, huddled with his hands tucked into his sleeves and shivering, looked relieved to finally see her emerge.

The driver opened his mouth to call out, but he was suddenly yanked back by the collar.

“Don’t you dare move! The wind is getting in again! Stay there and block it for me!” a haughty female voice barked.

“Yes, yes,” the driver stammered.

As Linlang approached, she realized Cen Juexing had actually waited for her.

The Cen estate’s carriage had apparently been sent back. Juexing had dismissed her own maids and was now single-handedly occupying the carriage Xianyue had provided for Linlang. She sat there like a pampered lord, wrapped in that same feather-satin cloak, insisting on riding back with her.

Linlang wasn’t sure what her angle was. Did she want to settle scores with her sister? Or was she planning to follow the original Linlang’s example and file a formal complaint? Linlang didn’t feel like she had done anything wrong.

What had she done? Honestly, nothing. Yet between Cen Juexing and Yunxiu, it seemed everyone was gnashing their teeth in hatred toward her.

In the past, Linlang believed the original owner deserved every bit of misery for obsessively pursuing the heroine. Now, she was starting to see things differently.

She wondered if it was perhaps the heroine’s very nature that is “deep-rooted sentimentality” that had caused the original Linlang to fall in love so confusingly.

Cen Xianyue was, after all, such a “good person.” She seemed capable of pouring out her heart and kindness to anyone. The whole world loved her, even the Princess Regent seemed to share a bond with her that wasn’t shallow. And among all those people, Linlang was likely the most insignificant. She had merely banked on the fact that she grew up alongside the heroine as a guest in her house.

Perhaps her infamous possessiveness had been enabled by the heroine’s own indulgence.

Linlang couldn’t quite understand why a mere dream had left her so unsettled. She stared at the street scenery passing by the window; the cold wind made her cheeks sting, but it also helped clear her head.

“It’s freezing. Can you close the curtain?” Juexing complained.

“I gave you the cloak, what more do you want?”

Juexing tilted her chin up and huffed. “This cloak should have been mine to begin with. Don’t think that just because you’re living with my sister, you can hog all her things! I’m telling you, even if she doesn’t give them to me, they certainly don’t belong to you!”

“Whatever. If you love it so much, take it. I didn’t want it anyway…”

Linlang felt exhaustion washing over her. Though she tried to stay awake, her body refused to cooperate. She leaned against the narrow window frame and began to doze off, swaying with the slow rhythm of the carriage. Rocking, rocking… Her memory seemed to drift back to a day in the past, and Juexing’s voice faded into a dull hum.

This time, Linlang didn’t remember the details of the dream. Her brain felt unresponsive. Following a sharp jolt of the wheels, she opened her eyes to find the Shen estate’s gate before her.

In her blurred vision, Cen Xianyue was still waiting at the entrance. She looked worried, her face etched with a heart-wrenching anxiety, like a mother waiting for a child who might never return home.

Yunxiu stood beside her as usual, wearing her standard expression of “hating that the iron won’t become steel.” After saying something unheard, Yunxiu stomped her foot and went inside in a huff, leaving Xianyue alone.

For some reason, Linlang felt that Xianyue was waiting specifically for her. Even though logic told her there was no reason for Xianyue to do so…

Perhaps it was simply because she was a “good person” with too much heart.

“Elder Sister!” Cen Juexing was the first to hop off the carriage. She cheered and ran toward Xianyue. “Sister! Were you waiting for me? Oh, it’s so cold out. I’m so sorry—”

However, before she could embrace her, she was pushed back by a single sharp look.

Her elder sister, Cen Xianyue, had always been a stickler for propriety. In this world, save for Pei Linlang, no one was permitted to act so discourteously in her presence.

Juexing knew this well and was forced to stop her movements. She tucked her hands obediently in front of her and greeted her formally. “Elder Sister…”

Xianyue stepped forward to brush the snow from Juexing’s hair, but her eyes immediately dropped to the cloak Juexing was wearing. She guessed the situation instantly. “Why are you here? Where is Linlang?”

“You’re still asking about her!” Juexing stamped her foot in frustration. She looked back as Linlang slowly, almost lethargically, climbed down from the carriage.

Linlang wasn’t dressed too thinly, but because of her slight frame, she looked pitiable.

Pitiable? My foot! It’s an act! All an act! Juexing thought. This wretch is a master of this game!

“I assume Sister knows exactly where I ran into her,” Juexing pouted, her voice thick with grievance. “Sister is so cruel. How can you be so biased?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Xianyue replied, her gaze already drifting back to Linlang.

Linlang’s steps were slow, and Xianyue grew visibly impatient. She moved to step forward, but Juexing grabbed her sleeve. “I don’t care! Sister must give me an explanation today!”

Since growing up, Juexing had always respected this sister. She rarely threw tantrums or even acted spoiled. But today was different. From the seat at Shuxue Pavilion to this very cloak, these were things she had long desired but could never obtain. Her mother had taught her since childhood: even if the benefits of the Cen family didn’t go to her, they absolutely could not fall into the hands of an outsider, especially not Pei Linlang.

Cen Juexing opened her mouth to snap back, but before she could utter a word, Linlang reached them and her knees simply gave way.

“Hey!” Juexing shrieked.

Cen Xianyue moved even faster, catching Linlang before she hit the stones. “Linlang! What is wrong? Why is your face so pale?”

“I’m fine, Sister… I just…” Linlang offered a dazed, silly grin. “My head is a bit…”

The sentence trailed off into nothing as she slumped forward, losing consciousness entirely.

“You—you, you, you! Sister, I didn’t do anything! Really! I only—!” Juexing looked left and right in a panic. Seeing the feather-satin cloak, she tore it off her shoulders and threw it over Linlang’s limp body. “Here! Take it back! You troublesome wretch!”

Cen Xianyue didn’t say a word. She remained silent, gathering the small, unresponsive frame into her arms. When did her Linlang become so thin? She wondered. She remembered a time when the girl used to complain about needing to lose weight.

Xianyue stood, lifting her easily, and began walking toward the inner gates.

“Sister…”

Behind her, Juexing’s bravado had vanished. She stood alone in the cold, twisting the corner of her sleeve and calling out in a small, uncertain voice.

“Come inside,” Xianyue said without turning around. “The wind and snow are picking up.”

“Yes…”

*****

Pei Linlang was dreaming again.

This time, the images were sharper than before. In the dream, she was quite small, perhaps five or six, maybe seven or eight—clutching her mother’s hand as they entered the side gate of the Cen Estate.

It was a biting winter day. Her hands were covered in painful chilblains, and her mother gripped her so tightly that her fingernails nearly cut into Linlang’s skin. The pain felt like a needle embedded in her flesh. As she tugged at her mother’s sleeve, she stared at her surroundings. Everything was alien: exotic flowers encased in ice, carved beams, and painted pillars. A stout, formidable nanny led the way, and even the servants they passed looked well-to-do.

“This is the back courtyard of the Cen Estate. Over there are the wood shed and the latrines; the path next to it leads to the kitchen,” the nanny said, looking back with a smirk. “The Miss’s courtyard is further along.”

“Further… so it’s on the southern side?” her mother asked timidly.

The nanny snorted, still smiling. “There’s a well in the courtyard. It’s very convenient.”

Her mother’s grip tightened further. The sudden spike of pain told Linlang that the blisters on her knuckles had likely burst. She didn’t cry, but with tears brimming, she continued to pull at her mother’s sleeve. “Mother… Mother…”

“Be quiet!”

Later, Linlang would learn that the southern side was where the lower servants lived. A proper young lady from a good family was expected to live a life of secluded elegance, not tucked away near the kitchens.

“By the way, where does that path lead?” her mother asked, trying to recover her poise and pointing to a narrow, winding trail.

At the end of that path was a moon gate, leading to a long, slender veranda and a garden. Two girls stood there. One was older, one younger, both looking like they were carved from exquisite jade. They were watching her with unreadable expressions.

“Oh, that?” the nanny tilted her chin. “Leads to the front courtyard.” Her tone made it clear that area had nothing to do with people like them.

“I see…” her mother murmured.

Linlang’s thoughts drifted. She looked at the two children. The younger one was eating a pastry; noticing Linlang’s gaze, she huffed with disdain.

“Just a concubine and a ‘burden’ tagging along for a free meal. Let’s go.” Having finished her snack, the younger girl clapped her hands and called to the older one.

The older girl was already blossoming into a graceful beauty, perhaps ten years old. She followed the younger one, holding a tray of pastries like a devoted maidservant. Linlang knew that in grand houses, even the maids were beautiful, but she had never seen anyone like this. She looked like she had stepped out of a painting.

Strangely, the girl was looking back at her. She lingered so long that the younger one barked, “Cen Xianyue! How much longer are you going to stare?”

“Coming!” she replied, hurrying to catch up. She stole one last look at Linlang before disappearing behind the “Little Tyrant.”

Small Linlang looked back too, until her mother yanked her arm.

“Those are the Eldest and Second Misses of the house,” the nanny introduced. “Best not to provoke them, lest you cause trouble.”

“Yes,” her mother replied, glaring at Linlang.

That was the first time she saw Cen Xianyue. Both were hurried, both were restricted, and neither was in a particularly “dignified” position, yet Linlang remembered her deeply.

The second time was a few days later.

Linlang quickly grew accustomed to her new life: the remote courtyard, the plain rooms, and a mother whose moods shifted like the weather. It wasn’t much different from before. Her mother was beautiful; if it weren’t for the “burden” of a child, she wouldn’t have to endure such slights. She complained about it constantly. Unable to stand the nagging, Linlang avoided the room, wandering the estate instead.

She treated it like an RPG map exploration. One day the woodshed, the next the kitchen. She explored every garden, though she never dared enter the front courtyard.

One afternoon, she went to the kitchen to beg for food. While she stood there gazing toward the front courtyard, wondering how to sneak in, Cen Xianyue walked in from the outside.

A girl of such transcendent beauty, carrying a plate, smiling gracefully as she spoke to the kitchen workers. “My sister loves your roasted chestnuts. Are there any left?”

“There are, there are,” a worker said, lifting a coarse sack from the floor. “But the Second Miss could just send a servant with an order. Why trouble the Eldest Miss to come personally?”

“It’s no trouble. My sister is young; she really relies on me.”

Linlang knew it wasn’t “reliance.” She had heard the gossip. Just yesterday, a servant had said the Eldest Miss had a hard life, losing her mother so young. Better a begging mother than a high-ranking father, they said. A noble lady forced to act as a maid for her younger sister was a pitiable sight.

Linlang didn’t believe Xianyue was blind to this, yet she looked so utterly without resentment.

Hiding behind the stove, Linlang watched. Xianyue took the chestnuts and turned to leave, but her gaze fell upon Linlang. She walked over, leaning down to look at her with a warm smile. “Your name is Linlang, isn’t it?”

Linlang nodded.

“Would you like some chestnuts?” Xianyue shook the bag gently.

Linlang desperately wanted them. She hung around the kitchen precisely for scraps like these. The workers would give her one or two if she was sweet enough, but never more. Her appetite was teased, leaving her so hungry she considered stealing. She watched Xianyue’s hands and swallowed hard.

Xianyue understood. With a soft smile, she took Linlang’s hand. “Come with me.”

She claimed Juexing couldn’t eat that many anyway, and that eating too many would cause “internal heat.” She “entreated” Linlang to help her eat half so they wouldn’t go to waste.

Half that bag ended up in Linlang’s stomach. They sat together in the corner of the small yard outside the kitchen. Linlang ate voraciously while Xianyue peeled them for her, laughing softly. “Slow down, there are plenty more.”

Linlang couldn’t stop. For so long, she hadn’t felt full. She was constantly hungry, sleeping poorly because of the gnawing in her gut. Finally feeling the sensation of a full stomach, Linlang noticed Xianyue’s fingers had turned red from the rough shells.

She looked at Xianyue, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment. But Xianyue had been “good” since childhood thoroughly, completely good. She said nothing of the effort, only: “Do you want more? I’ll peel another.”

Linlang’s lip trembled; she was on the verge of tears.

“What’s this? Did you eat too much?”

Xianyue patted her back. Linlang shook her head while hiccuping, unable to form a sentence. Finally, she managed to squeeze out:

“Can you… be my sister too?”

Xianyue couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright then. Call me ‘Sister’.”

“Sis—hic—Sister!”

“Good girl. Where are you from? Why is your accent so strange?”

“I’m not a girl. I’m a boy.”

“Oh, I see. And where did you come from, Little Brother? Do you have any other family?”

Family…

Is there anyone else?

Home…

Her home…

Linlang opened her eyes slowly, staring blankly at the bed canopy.

Of course she had a home. Although she had been an orphan and later developed cancer in her original life, she did have a home and a past. For the first time since transmigrating, she realized those memories were becoming distant and blurred, even more so than the dream she just had.

The side courtyard was no longer freezing. Golden-thread charcoal burned in the room, and the quilts were thick, so thick that she felt like she was suffocating. She pushed them back to catch her breath, her thoughts returning to the present. She could hear voices outside the door.

“I’m not going back! I’m going to wait for her to wake up and ask her! Sister, I really didn’t do anything this time!”

“This time?”

“Ah—I mean, no, I didn’t—”

“I know,” Xianyue said quietly. “Juexing, besides you, no one else would dare push her into a lake.”

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