I Won Big with the President Who Looks Like Me - Chapter 3

Who spread this rumor about me?

Once doubt takes root in a person’s heart, most will eagerly seek the truth they’ve been kept from.

This is especially true when the matter directly affects their own interests, it’s impossible to deliberately ignore it.

So when Jiang Ruosui saw the words “deceased,” his mind exploded with a deafening buzz.

First, he doubted his own existence. After checking his reflection and confirming he wasn’t a ghost, he forced himself to return to the notebook, suppressing his churning confusion as he continued reading.

But as he scrolled down, the details page was mostly filled with Yun Yue’an’s life story and achievements. The dense text made Jiang Ruosui’s eyes ache.

Only after finally dragging the progress bar to the end did Jiang Ruosui slowly realize the truth:

His ex-wife, Yun Yue’an, was an absolute genius.

The writer and painter identities mentioned earlier were merely the most prominent of his accomplishments. Beneath these layers, he was a master of the four arts—music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—and had won countless domestic and international awards. At a young age, he had already graced international stages, becoming one of the most dazzling figures there.

If Jiang Ruosui could be called a once-in-a-million genius, Yun Yue’an was a once-in-a-million-in-a-million genius. Young as he was, he was already showered with honors, unknowingly drawing countless gazes of jealousy and envy.

Such a genius was not only born into a privileged family but also possessed a striking face. When Yun Yue’an and Jiang Ruosui announced their marriage, the wedding photos went viral, with netizens praising the couple as perfectly matched in status and a visual feast for the eyes.

Yet, this seemingly blessed union ended abruptly after nine years of engagement and seven years of marriage. No one knew what had happened between Yun Yue’an and Jiang Ruosui, not even.

Even Jiang Ruosui himself had forgotten.

Jiang Ruosui painstakingly sifted through news articles from the past two years, trying to unravel the cause of their divorce. But the elite valued face above all else, and many details seemed to have been suppressed by the Jiang and Yun families. The news he could find were mostly vague, even absurd, speculations. Some even suggested Yun Yue’an was a cross-dressing man who married Jiang Ruosui, only to be kicked out in a fit of rage after Jiang Ruosui discovered the truth.

Jiang Ruosui: “……”

What is all this?

Knowing that further online searches would yield nothing, Jiang Ruosui closed his laptop after a moment and pressed his temples wearily.

Soon, it was time for dinner. The butler of Jiang Manor thoughtfully asked if he would prefer his meal brought to his room or if he would like to be escorted to the dining room.

Jiang Ruosui, sensing there was more to this than met the eye, asked, “Is there a visitor at home?”

“Mr. Jiang Linwu has arrived,” the butler replied with a smile. “He heard you were back and specifically put aside his work to visit you.”

Jiang Linwu was his father Jiang Linxian’s second younger brother, his Second Uncle and the person temporarily acting as CEO in his place.

As this realization dawned, Jiang Ruosui slowly sat up straight.

If anyone stood to gain the most from his becoming a vegetable, it would undoubtedly be his Second Uncle, Jiang Linwu.

He recalled Jiang Ruoyan mentioning that Jiang Linwu had rushed back from M Country the moment he became comatose. Could there be something more to this urgency?

While pondering this, Jiang Ruosui, with the butler’s assistance, descended the stairs.

As expected, Jiang Linwu was waiting for him in the dining room.

The Jiang Manor was vast, and since the family had never officially split, the massive dining hall remained intact. By the time Jiang Ruosui arrived, the entire family was already seated around the table.

After the death of the Jiang Family patriarch, he left behind three sons: the eldest, Jiang Linyue; the second, Jiang Linxian; and the youngest, Jiang Linwu.

The moment Jiang Ruosui entered, all eyes turned to him.

Despite being under the gaze of so many eyes, most of whom he couldn’t quite recall, Jiang Ruosui remained composed. He smiled and greeted them, “Eldest Uncle, Second Uncle, Auntie.”

Jiang Linyue’s expression was stern, but his eyes held a rare warmth as he looked at Jiang Ruosui. He discreetly kicked Jiang Ruoyan under the table, signaling him to help Jiang Ruosui to his seat.

Jiang Ruoyan reluctantly went to assist, but a vivid red handprint suddenly appeared on his face, as if he’d been slapped. He kept his head lowered as he stood, trying to hide the mark, which made Jiang Ruosui wonder what had happened.

However, with so many people present, Jiang Ruosui felt it inappropriate to ask Jiang Ruoyan about the slap. After a moment’s thought, he waved away the offer of help and sat down at the table, supported by the butler.

Before the meal, the family went through the customary greetings. Though the words were formulaic, Jiang Ruosui could sense genuine concern in the tone of his eldest uncle and second uncle, unlike mere pretense.

But there might be an act involved, so Jiang Ruosui didn’t dare let his guard down. He simply replied politely, occasionally lowering his head to eat.

As the family chatted, Jiang Ruosui suddenly seemed to recall something. He put down his chopsticks and turned to Jiang Linwu, his voice growing softer:

“Second Uncle.”

“?” Jiang Linwu turned his head, his peach-shaped eyes lifting at the corners, shimmering under the light. He raised an eyebrow and asked, “What is it?”

“I just searched online for information about Yun Yue’an and found that his identity is listed as ‘ex-wife of Jiang Ruosui, former president of Jianghe Group’.”

Jiang Ruosui wiped his mouth, set down his chopsticks, and fixed his gaze on Jiang Linwu, trying to find a crack in his composure:

“Did you know about this?”

“Of course,” Jiang Linwu replied, his expression surprisingly calm, contrary to Jiang Ruosui’s expectations. He used a serving chopstick to place a blanched shrimp in Jiang Ruosui’s bowl. “Right now, besides our Jiang Family and a few trusted partners, no one knows you’re still alive.”

“The information online? I had it altered. Database editors don’t cost much, anyone can do it.”

Jiang Ruosui didn’t touch the shrimp. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Jiang Linwu, not blinking:

“Second Uncle… why did you do all this?”

“To protect you,” Jiang Linwu said, his expression cool and composed. A few strands of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, framing his face in a way that exuded elite elegance. Not long ago, Jiang Ruosui had been just like him, confidently striding through the business world. But a car accident had reversed their roles. Now, Jiang Ruosui had not only lost his position as CEO of Jianghe Group but had also become a helpless invalid, truly needing “protection.”

Jiang Ruosui pulled at the corner of his mouth, remaining silent. The atmosphere around him immediately grew heavy.

“I’m finished eating,” Jiang Ruosui said, standing up. “Uncle, Father, Aunt, please continue.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Jiang Linwu’s voice stopped him:

“Ruosui.”

His tone brooked no argument:

“You’ve lost your memory and can’t recall many things. But Yun Yue’an is not a good person. You shouldn’t contact him again, lest…”

Jiang Linwu didn’t finish the sentence, but his words clearly implied that Yun Yue’an was somehow connected to the car accident that had left Jiang Ruosui bedridden for two years.

Jiang Ruosui’s confusion deepened.

He didn’t know who to trust. Since losing his memory, he felt like a hothouse flower in this family, his every move monitored and managed. The constant care and assistance made him deeply uncomfortable.

Though injured, Jiang Ruosui was otherwise physically sound and didn’t need care. What he truly needed was to recover his lost memories of the past two years and understand what had happened during that time.

While diligently undergoing physical rehabilitation, Jiang Ruosui tried to uncover the truth by subtly probing Jiang Ruoyan about Yun Yue’an. Unfortunately, after seeing Jiang Ruosui at the dinner table that day, Jiang Ruoyan never returned to Jiang Manor. When questioned, he acted uncharacteristically, claiming ignorance. When pressed, he would only say—

“Young Master, please spare me! Don’t ask! I don’t want Second Uncle and the others to beat me again!”

Jiang Ruosui: “………”

Excellent. Even Jiang Ruoyan, his only lead, had been cut off.

What were the elders of the Jiang Family hiding from him?

Once his rehabilitation was nearly complete and he could move freely, Jiang Ruosui resolved to uncover the truth himself.

Without alarming his parents, he first searched online for information about Yun Yue’an and learned that the artist would soon be attending his own exhibition. He secretly bought a ticket, then used the excuse of needing to clear his head to travel to the exhibition.

Though Yun Yue’an had long been dismissed as a madman, a mental patient undergoing treatment at a sanatorium, no one could deny his artistic achievements. On the opening day of his exhibition, a long queue snaked around the block, with people eager to enter.

Jiang Ruosui, with his considerable wealth, had purchased a VIP ticket and bypassed the line, entering through the designated VIP entrance.

He had expected a small exhibition, but was surprised by the scale of the venue—an entire floor was filled with paintings. To the right, a special media area buzzed with activity, reporters lugging cameras and testing lenses, all preparing to interview Yun Yue’an later.

Since Jiang Ruosui was still presumed dead by the public, he wore a mask to avoid causing a stir and slipped away to view the exhibition alone.

To be fair, Yun Yue’an was undeniably skilled. His paintings—white doves with broken wings, roses made of bones, and rain formed from sharp knives—evoked a chilling beauty, a haunting blend of sorrow and terror.

But what truly captivated Jiang Ruosui was a painting displayed in the center of the main hall.

The painting was large, depicting a scene from a low, upward-looking perspective. A man in opulent brocade robes stood with his eyes closed, wearing a crown atop his head and holding a scepter. He was bathed in light, while below him, a dense crowd of worshiping followers sprawled in a sea of faces, their features indistinguishable in the crowd.

Yet, a chilling detail lurked beneath the painting’s warm, bright tones. The ruby on the man’s crown was crafted from a human heart, slightly swollen and dripping blood that seemed to pulse with life, fresh blood continuously flowing down to pool at the center of his forehead. The scepter, meanwhile, was adorned with a serpent coiled around the king’s wrist. Though his eyes remained tightly shut, a glistening tear seemed to trace a path down the corner of his eye.

The painting was titled The King.

Jiang Ruosui tilted his head, studying the man’s features at the painting’s center, then glanced at the porcelain tiles on the wall. He touched his own face, lost in thought.

As he pondered, he suddenly heard a commotion of footsteps and the sharp clicks of camera shutters from beyond the door.

It seemed some important figure was about to arrive.

At the sound, Jiang Ruosui instinctively looked up.

The doorway was packed to the brim. Soon, a narrow passage was forced open from the outside, and the crowd pressed back against the walls. Under the glare of the spotlight, a figure began to stride in.

The person was of average height, just over 1.7 meters tall, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, with a traditional Chinese male robe draped over them. The robe was embroidered with white cloud patterns, and above it was a strikingly beautiful face, its gender indistinguishable.

His entire attire was in black and white, like a woman in ancient times who had sworn eternal widowhood, as if dressed in the starkest mourning attire. Yet even this extreme simplicity couldn’t diminish the ethereal beauty of his features.

But the rigid expression on the beautiful face made it seem like cracked porcelain, evoking a sense of pity. The person’s face was haggard and pale, their expression utterly numb, their eyes like stagnant pools of water in an ancient well, devoid of any ripples, as if nothing could stir even a flicker of emotion within them.

Though he hadn’t interacted closely with Yun Yue’an, Jiang Ruosui could sense from his demeanor that Yun Yue’an’s mental state was precarious. His spirit was stretched too taut, as if he were teetering on the edge of a cliff, and a single additional straw would be enough to shatter him completely.

How pitiful, Jiang Ruosui thought.

Suddenly, the cold and beautiful face seemed to sense Jiang Ruosui’s scrutinizing gaze. He abruptly raised his eyes and fixed them on Jiang Ruosui.

It was sudden, without any warning.

The moment Jiang Ruosui was forced to meet his gaze, time seemed to freeze. The silent Jiang Ruosui could only hear the clicking of camera shutters around him.

Through the mask, Yun Yue’an’s dazed gaze suddenly fell upon Jiang Ruosui’s eyes.

It was as if a lifeless painting had suddenly been infused with vitality. The moment he saw Jiang Ruosui, Yun Yue’an underwent a visible and dramatic transformation. He trembled violently, then his previously dull eyes suddenly gained a spark of life, erupting with a dazzling radiance that made it impossible to look directly at them.

As if in disbelief, Yun Yue’an staggered forward two steps.

But for every step Yun Yue’an took forward, Jiang Ruosui retreated two steps backward.

Even Jiang Ruosui didn’t understand why he instinctively moved back. Though they were more than ten meters apart, and he couldn’t hear what Yun Yue’an was saying, he saw Yun Yue’an suddenly halt, as if his movements had pierced him, and fix his gaze on him with unwavering intensity.

The beauty’s eyes gradually reddened, and clear tears slowly filled his pupils before tracing paths down his cheeks. Yet Yun Yue’an seemed oblivious, his eyes still locked on Jiang Ruosui. Gathering all his strength, he finally managed to utter only a trembling whisper:

“Husband?”

Is… is it really you?

Your ghost… has it come back for me?

Jiang Ruosui: “………”

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