The Movie Queen’s Charming Little Wife: Feigning Amnesia Online - Chapter 43.2

Chapter 43.2

Lin Mo stared at that line of text in shock, unable to snap out of it for a long time.

On the other side, in a hotel suite, Xue Luhe held her phone, staring at the message Lin Mo had sent. She, too, found it hard to believe. It had been so long since they had spoken directly.

Lin Mo had taken the initiative to message her, asking if those words were true. It meant that she had actually listened today. Xue Luhe closed her eyes; her face held a mixture of joy and bitter trepidation.

Every word she had spoken today was the absolute truth. After being deeply wounded by Lin Mo previously, Xue Luhe’s instinct had been to hide—to avoid the person who could hurt her so badly. She had spent three days and nights locked in a room, reflecting. She tried to look at herself through Lin Mo’s eyes and realized the person Lin Mo saw was a possessive, unstable villain.

So, she made a decision: from now on, she would never tell a lie in front of Lin Mo again.

Xue Luhe toyed with her phone and typed another line: “Seeing Wang Ling today made me realize that when I was like her, I must have been very ugly.”

Lin Mo, reading this, had a strange expression. Is this… another tactic? The “humble self-deprecation” routine to win sympathy?

Was the old Xue Luhe “ugly”? Lin Mo thought back—from the villa until now—and concluded that a beauty is a beauty. She had never been ugly, even at her most terrifying.

Unsure of how to respond, Lin Mo typed and deleted several times before finally settling on: “Are you doing well lately?”

It was a harmless question, the kind friends ask. Besides, they were still technically married for another six months.

The reply came quickly: “I’m okay. You?”

Lin Mo: “I’m fine too.”

Xue Luhe: “That’s good.”

That’s it? Lin Mo felt the conversation had hit a dead end. She tossed her phone aside in frustration and went to sleep. A moment later, the screen lit up again. She couldn’t resist checking.

Xue Luhe: “Goodnight.”

Lin Mo was speechless. For some reason, it annoyed her. She flipped her phone face down and went to sleep without replying.

That midnight chat seemed to trigger a new routine. From that day on, the Xue Luhe who had been absent for a month began sending “Good morning” and “Goodnight” messages every single day.

Every morning at 8:00 AM, just as Lin Mo’s alarm went off, she would receive a text: “Morning. It’s -5°C today, dress warmly.”

“Good morning. It’s windy out, wear a scarf.”

At first, Lin Mo didn’t reply, thinking it was annoying, like a weather app. But after a week, she found herself reaching for her phone the moment she woke up to check the morning message. Having a personal weather forecaster was convenient, if nothing else.

As for the “Goodnight” messages, they were less consistent—sometimes at 11:00 PM, sometimes at 1:00 AM, depending on Xue Luhe’s work schedule. They were always simple: “Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

Lin Mo had once heard a cheesy saying that the pinyin for “Wan’an” (Goodnight) stands for “Wo Ai Ni, Ai Ni” (I love you, love you). Every time she saw the message, she thought of that phrase. Occasionally, if she was still awake, she’d reply “You too,” to which Xue Luhe wouldn’t respond until the next morning.

Lin Mo began to suspect it was a bot. One morning, Xue Luhe texted: “Good morning. Bring an umbrella, it will snow today.”

Lin Mo replied mischievously: “But Northerners laugh at people who use umbrellas in the snow. Real Northerners just charge straight into the snow.” Xue Luhe replied almost instantly: “Don’t charge. You’ll catch a cold. You are, after all, a genuine Southerner.”

Lin Mo grinned. Definitely not a robot today.

By noon, the wind had picked up. The coffee shop closed early, and the staff gathered for hot pot and beer. The atmosphere was warm and lively.

Sister Qing stood up to join the dancing, reaching out to take Lin Mo’s hand to complete the circle. Lin Mo instinctively pulled her hand away. Sister Qing froze, a complicated look in her eyes.

“I… I need to use the restroom!” Lin Mo bolted from the group.

In the restroom, Lin Mo was splashing cold water on her face when Sister Qing walked in. “Mo Mo, you’ve been avoiding me. Is it because of my ex-wife?”

Lin Mo backed against the sink. “Of course not, Sister Qing.”

Sister Qing looked vulnerable. “I know you might feel a twice-divorced woman isn’t good enough for you. But I really like you. I hope you can give us a try.”

Lin Mo felt a weight lift from her heart. Finally, it was out in the open. She gave a bright, clear smile. “Sister Qing, you are an amazing woman, and I’ve never looked down on you. Honestly, I feel like I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. You helped me stand on my own in this city. I’ve always seen you as an older sister, but my feelings for you… they just aren’t romantic. I’m so sorry.”

Sister Qing’s face dimmed. She had expected this. “I’m glad you see me that way. Perhaps we just lack that specific spark. I won’t bring this up again.”

Lin Mo felt a wave of guilt and gratitude. “Sister Qing, if it makes you uncomfortable to see me, I can move to another branch.”

Sister Qing smiled sadly. “No need. My feelings are my own problem. Thank you for not giving me false hope.”

As Lin Mo stepped out of the coffee shop, heavy snowflakes were falling. The world was turning silver-white. It’s actually snowing! The first snow I’ve seen since coming to this world!

Excited and still warm from the hot pot, Lin Mo wrapped her scarf tight and charged into the snow. She didn’t use her umbrella—everyone else was playing in the snow without them, so why shouldn’t she?

She caught snowflakes with her gloved hands, exhilarated. Rounding a corner, she saw a ledge covered in pristine snow and ran toward it to make a handprint.

But she lacked experience with icy ground. Her foot slipped. “Aaah!”

She flailed her arms, leaning backward. She braced for the pain of a hard fall on the pavement. Instead, she landed on something soft, warm, and fragrant.

She reached back and felt an arm. Turning around, she saw Xue Luhe’s face right behind her, her teeth clenched in a pained smile.

“What kind of smile is that?” Lin Mo asked, standing up and offering a hand to pull her up.

Xue Luhe’s face was contorted. She braced herself on the ground with her hands, but her long legs remained limp. She couldn’t get up.

“Oh my god,” Lin Mo gasped. “Did you break something? Is winter in Xicheng this dangerous?”

Cold sweat broke out on Xue Luhe’s forehead. Despite the pain, she chuckled, though it looked more like a grimace. “I might have a fracture. Call an ambulance.”

Lin Mo: “…Oh. I’m so sorry.”

If not for Xue Luhe, Lin Mo would have been the one with the broken bones. As a Southerner who had never seen real snow, she had seriously underestimated the power of the ice.

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