Stolen by the First Love - Chapter 73.1

The girl turned her face toward Chen Dali and the others. The bright lights outside the villa illuminated her delicate features her skin as pale as cold jade, her brows and eyes exquisitely painted. She lifted her chin slightly, her frosty gaze meeting Chen Dali’s eyes as she asked coolly, “Is he dead?”

Her voice held no warmth, and her eyes betrayed no emotion, yet there was an inexplicable air of intimidation about her.

Chen Dali almost instinctively responded, “No, not yet.”

As she listened to his account, the girl extended a hand toward the young man beside her. “Your jacket.”

The young man twitched his lips but obediently took off his jacket. He had intended to drape it over her shoulders, but she snatched it from him and put it on herself.

Once Chen Dali finished speaking, the girl curled her lips into a mocking smile, the cold-jade-like contours of her face twisting slightly. “Good that he’s not dead.”

The young man scrambled up from the ground. Earlier, in his attempt to catch her, he had scraped his lips, chin, and palms raw. Suppressing the pain, he grumbled, “If I hadn’t caught you, you might’ve been the one to die from the fall!”

No sooner had he spoken than the police and an ambulance arrived.

“After that, we were busy giving statements and arranging hospital admissions. We just finished when you arrived, so I didn’t have time to call you,” Chen Dali explained. “The disfigured woman was Ji Tong’s secretary, apparently also his mistress. Miss Meng broke her leg jumping from the second floor, got a gash on her back from shattered vase fragments, and some scrapes on her hands. Everything’s been treated already.”

Recalling the way the young girl in the hospital room had taken charge, he blinked uncomfortably before adding, “Ji Tong and that secretary are also in this hospital arranged by Miss Meng.”

This hospital belonged to the Ning family. Following Ning Jingjue’s instructions, they were only supposed to bring Meng Xia here, the other two were none of their concern. Unexpectedly, the young girl, despite her age, had shown remarkable decisiveness. She had remained composed while giving her statement and handled everything with meticulous order.

Upon hearing this, Ning Jingjue couldn’t help but glance into the hospital room.

The Meng Xia described by Chen Dali sounded like one of those sharp, no-nonsense businesswomen he had encountered. What was more surprising was that Chen Dali, who had once been part of the underworld and barely even listened to Ning Qingwan, had obediently followed Meng Xia’s instructions without even calling to ask for his approval.

Inside the room, mother and daughter embraced. Xia Nianzhi wept uncontrollably, while the girl lowered her head, her dark hair cascading to obscure her face. One hand, wrapped in bandages, held Xia Nianzhi, while the other gently patted her back in slow, soothing motions.

At first glance, she didn’t seem any different from the Meng Xia he had interacted with before nothing out of the ordinary.

What was strange, however—

Ning Jingjue turned his gaze toward Ning Qingwan.

She stood with her head bowed, silent, her lashes trembling like the delicate wings of a butterfly. The hand that wasn’t injured was clenched into a fist, the blue veins stark against her porcelain skin.

Her little girlfriend was unharmed, yet Ning Qingwan showed no relief. She hadn’t even stepped into the hospital room.

Ning Jingjue sighed deeply. He knew Ning Qingwan well, if she didn’t want to talk, pressing her would be futile. So he said nothing more. After ensuring everything was properly arranged, he left to attend to company matters.

Ning Qingwan only entered the hospital room after Xia Nianzhi had been persuaded to go home and rest.

It was already past midnight, but the lights in the room were still on. She pushed the door open and stepped inside alone. The girl on the hospital bed sat up at the sound.

It was the face she knew and loved most, yet the soul she found most unfamiliar.

With just one glance, Ning Qingwan was certain, the person before her was not the Meng Xia who would call her “sister.”

“You’re here.” The girl on the bed met Ning Qingwan’s gaze calmly. “Thank you for saving my mother.”

“It was only natural.” Ning Qingwan replied indifferently. She had saved Xia Nianzhi for her own sake.

“Meng Xia” let out a faint, ambiguous chuckle. She glanced at the chair beside the hospital bed. “Sit.”

For a moment, Ning Qingwan felt uneasy. Though the face was identical, the aura was entirely different. She frowned slightly but didn’t move.

“Meng Xia” didn’t insist. Instead, she asked, “Was Ji Tong saved?”

Ning Qingwan’s eyes turned colder. “He was.”

If he hadn’t been brought to this hospital, he might not have made it.

“Meng Xia” curled her lips into a faint, mocking smile as she looked at Ning Qingwan. “Do you want him dead?”

Ning Qingwan’s brow twitched. She did want Ji Tong dead ever since she learned he had orchestrated Meng Xia’s abduction, she had wished she could tear him apart a thousand times over.

“I lived in that villa for a very, very long time. There’s a basement inside, its entrance hidden behind a cabinet door in the kitchen. It’s filled with unspeakable tools.”

Ning Qingwan’s throat tightened, and the fury in her eyes surged like a storm.

“Meng Xia” closed her eyes briefly. Her face was pale, her fingers clenched. After a long pause, she opened her eyes and met Ning Qingwan’s gaze.

Some things didn’t need to be said outright just a hint was enough for Ning Qingwan to understand. If it hadn’t been her, if it had been that child in this body instead, escaping unscathed would have been impossible.

Would she still only want him dead now…?

“Sometimes, death is the easy way out.” The corner of her lips curled into a bitter smile, her eyes reddening. She only held Ning Qingwan’s gaze for a second before turning away.

Those beautiful, glass-like eyes held not a single tear, yet they brimmed with sorrow, a desolation so deep it seeped into the blood and marrow the moment their eyes met. It was a pain that resonated viscerally.

She truly wanted to die…

If she died, would Meng Xia come back?

Ning Qingwan’s heart felt wrenched apart. The suffocating weight in her chest made it feel as though her throat were being squeezed, tight and dry.

“When will you give her back to me?”

The “Meng Xia” on the bed tilted her head, studying Ning Qingwan. “What if I said…”

“I won’t?”

After a brief tremor, the depths of the subconscious space settled back into stillness. A hazy white mist drifted around, stretching endlessly in all directions, amplifying the emptiness, loneliness, and confusion until they seemed boundless.

She couldn’t go back…

No matter where she drifted, she couldn’t escape this space, always bouncing back as if hitting a soft, spongy wall.

“It must be unbearable staying here all the time, right?” Meng Xia poked the ground with her finger.

Like ripples across water, the white expanse shimmered with waves before fading away.

“Yeah. It’s boring, no phone, no TV.” Rou Rou shrugged and also reached out to poke the ground. “And I’m forced to write every day.”

Her fingertip glowed faintly, and where it touched the ground, a small daisy sprouted instantly, its petals trembling slightly as it bloomed, delicate yet stubborn.

Meng Xia stared at the daisy in disbelief, amazed and curious. “How did you do that?”

“Spiritual energy can be used to create things.” Rou Rou twitched the corner of her mouth, her hand brushing over the daisy, causing the adorable flower to vanish into her palm. “But she doesn’t allow me to create in this space.”

“Why?” Meng Xia asked curiously. She wanted to try it herself, but unfortunately didn’t know how to use spiritual energy.

In this empty space, without creating some lively and lovely things, staying here long-term would only make one feel more depressed.

Rou Rou turned her hand and lightly traced it across the ground. The pristine, water-like surface beneath her instantly transformed into parched earth, from whose cracks emerged a thorned rose.

Its petals were red as fire, delicate and alluring. Rou Rou gazed at the rose, her eyes softening in a way she herself didn’t notice. She reached out to touch the flower, but the rose swayed, its thorns cutting her hand.

Meng Xia understood and sighed softly. “Will you be punished if you defy her? Last time I was here, I saw you…”

She recalled the scene from her previous visit, Ji Tong dragging the original female lead into the room with intent to force himself on her, then Rou Rou falling out of that image. The female lead in that scenario had actually been Rou Rou.

The two stared at each other, wide-eyed, until after a long moment Rou Rou reacted with sudden realization. “Oh, you mean that.” She paused before explaining, “Actually… it’s not particularly extreme. Every time Ji Tong tries to force himself, she lets me out beforehand. But even that scares me half to death.”

If just that was enough to terrify her, how much worse must it be to endure the endless cycles of real experiences?

When Meng Xia had read the novel, she’d found some of the plot points excessively twisted. She couldn’t understand why such content was so popular, much less why the author would write it…

So even though Rou Rou said it was for money, that she had no choice, Meng Xia couldn’t empathize. She’d suffered from poverty too, but that wasn’t an excuse.

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