The Reborn Scummy A and the Sickly O Got Together - Chapter 60

She will come back.

Feng Baiming, holding a glass of honey water to combat her low blood sugar, took slow, small sips while repeating this phrase to herself like a mantra.

Even though the figure walking away had been resolute, Zhang Fengli had her own considerations. Unless she was willing to risk mutual destruction, attempting to uproot the entire Lu family would be nothing short of overestimating her own strength.

Yet unease gnawed at her heart—an empty, hollow fear, as if she had experienced it before. Like an old movie she had glimpsed as a child, buried for years beneath the silt of time, only to resurface now with a single glance, shocking her to the core.

The damp scent of moisture filled her nostrils again, the past materializing into reality. A heavy weariness and drowsiness overtook her. She set the glass on the bedside table and curled up on the hospital bed, slipping into a dream.

The surroundings were noisy. When she opened her eyes, everything was black and white, making her think for a moment that she had stepped into a monochrome silent film from the last century. But upon closer inspection, the scenery around her had color—only the people before her were dressed in black.

The sky was overcast, drizzling lightly. Someone called out, “Elder sister.” She stood blankly under a black umbrella, her younger sister beside her, casting a worried glance her way.

“You look terrible,” her sister said with concern. “The departed are gone…”

At this point, Feng Shaoyang seemed at a loss for further words of comfort and simply added, “But they were an extraordinary person. What a pity.”

Only Feng Baiming remained bewildered, swept along by the crowd in the damp air to pay respects at the funeral. When she reached the tombstone, she tilted her umbrella and bent to place a white flower. Raindrops pattered onto the petals, and at last, she saw the photograph on the gravestone.

In that instant, memories surged like a flood, drowning her like a helpless traveler.

Whose funeral was this? It was Luo Mingyue’s funeral—someone she had barely interacted with, only caught by fleeting moments: a gentle voice, a stunning appearance, eyes veiled in mist. Enough to make her want to keep this beautiful waterbird for herself.

Yet she wouldn’t say she had loved Luo Mingyue deeply. It was just that, in her twenty-some years of life, this was the first time she had felt a belated stirring of her heart.

When it came to emotions, Feng Baiming wasn’t so much a late bloomer as she was a woman with a heart of stone. Many whispered behind her back that she had impossibly high standards—and in truth, they weren’t wrong.

She found worldly love meaningless, believing that if she, as an omega, were to entrust herself to someone, that person must be truly worthy of her.

She had imagined a partner who pursued their own ambitions, an elite in their field, with looks surpassing the ordinary. Someone who genuinely loved life, upright and courageous—or perhaps a silent but earnest doer with a pure heart.

But when a beautiful waterbird alighted on the water, casting a narcissistic reflection, she became no different from any ordinary person chasing the moon’s reflection in a pond.

Countless times, she despised herself for being as shallow as any face-loving mortal. Yet she couldn’t help being drawn to that gaze, always so cautious, brimming with near-heartbroken tenderness.

Even those around her noticed her infatuation. At eighteen, Luo Mingyue had a disreputable background, a timid personality, and a notorious reputation for being fickle.

Everyone around Feng Baiming warned her—such a pretty vase was only good as an omega’s luxury accessory. Beauty was its sole purpose, and it served no other function.

Yet she rebelled, as if experiencing a belated teenage defiance that was over a decade overdue. The more others disapproved, the more she wanted to get closer—whether to prove Luo Mingyue was truly all show, or perhaps to discover she possessed a soul that stood apart from the world.

And then came such a delightful surprise. The soul beneath that exterior was one she adored so deeply that she even genuinely thought, perhaps this was how it was meant to be. Until an anonymous photo shattered those tender feelings—a beautiful female alpha fast asleep, with an innocent omega girl leaning against her shoulder, their intimate proximity declaring everything without words.

From then on, their lives intersected only in rare, fleeting encounters. Each time she met Luo Mingyue’s gaze, she longed to rush forward and demand answers, only to realize she lacked even the right identity to take that step.

Now, standing in the endless drizzle at Luo Mingyue’s funeral, she finally understood what she had lost.

Another ten years passed after that funeral. Her younger sister had two adorable children, fulfilling their parents’ hopes. Only she remained busy, unmarried and childless, yet driven by her own ambitions.

In her spare time, family and friends still insisted on introducing her to suitable partners. She never showed displeasure, occasionally agreeing to meet someone under her parents’ worried gazes. For ten years, each meeting ended without progress, her reason simple and irrefutable: “They don’t satisfy me.”

When pressed on what exactly dissatisfied her, she would cite everything from their appearance to their voice, even the most trivial gestures—because without affection, nothing could please her.

A decade passed this way. Those around her entered marriages, happy or unhappy, and even the least fortunate had children of their own.

Then her parents brought up that person, probing gently: “Are you still thinking about that child from the Lu family?”

She paused, momentarily taken aback, before smiling dismissively. “I remember her.”

Her mother voiced regret: “You were the one who cleared her name. She truly was a good person, and later proved so capable. We shouldn’t have discouraged you from associating with her back then.”

Her sister added remorsefully: “I’ve never seen you like anyone else since. It was all my foolish assumptions. Looking back, Luo Mingyue was more remarkable than most people I’ve met.”

Her father sighed. “If the two of you had stayed together back then, perhaps she wouldn’t have died so young.”

Their bluntness amused her inwardly, for none could fathom that her feelings for the eighteen-year-old Luo Mingyue ran deep enough to be called profound.

She replied calmly, “It’s been ten years. I barely remember what she looked like.”

Her sister said, “She was extraordinarily beautiful—so much so that as an alpha, it almost felt excessive. Back in school, countless omegas and betas vied for her attention.”

Feng Baiming replied lightly, “We were four grades apart. Our paths never crossed.”

Meeting the eighteen-year-old Luo Mingyue had been an accident, and everyone—even Feng Baiming herself—assumed it was nothing more than a youthful infatuation, hardly the kind of love that left an indelible mark.

Another decade passed, and her sister’s children had already entered university, while silver strands began to appear at her temples. The young ones flipping through her childhood photos gasped in admiration, pointing at a group photo with the Lu family kids: “Who’s this sister? She’s so beautiful, even prettier than celebrities!”

Her eyesight had gradually worsened over the years, and she now wore gold-rimmed retro glasses. Staring at the photo, she froze momentarily before murmuring, “She was… a friend of mine.”

Youth naturally gravitate toward beauty, and they pressed for more details about this stunning person. Learning it was an alpha, they asked, “Was she your close friend? We’ve never seen this auntie before.”

Feng Baiming replied, “She passed away in an accident twenty years ago.”

The children quickly handed her tissues before she realized her voice had grown hoarse with emotion. Seeing that youthful face again after so many years, the tears had fallen faster than her words.

Suddenly, she went to look in the mirror. The reflection showed fine wrinkles at her eyes and silver threads at her temples. That night, the 46-year-old Feng Baiming sat alone until dawn, then visited Luo Mingyue’s grave the next day with white flowers.

The girl on the tombstone remained as breathtakingly beautiful as she remembered. Finally, Feng understood that in life, love exists in fleeting moments. The affection born in those brief instants would be cherished by Feng for a lifetime.

And so it seemed she had loved her for an entire lifetime.

With Lu Jia’s matter settled, Luo Mingyue spent half a day on the bumpy road back to the capital with her grandmother. Exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep during the journey and had to be woken upon arrival. Seeing the setting sun through the window, she panicked, checking her phone only to find it dead.

Like a puppy with its tail on fire, she leaped from the car and dashed toward the house, desperate to charge her phone and call Feng Baiming to apologize.

Old Madam Lu shouted after her about propriety and decorum, but the words went in one ear and out the other. Rushing through the foyer into the living room, Luo Mingyue nearly collided with her mother who had come to greet her.

Lu San’s concern was genuine as she checked her daughter from head to toe before clasping her hands in prayer to various deities. Opening her arms for a rare maternal embrace, she cried, “You scared me to death! Lu Ping and the others all returned, but you—”

“I’m fine,” Luo Mingyue interrupted, already moving past her. Turning back urgently, she asked, “Did Miss Feng call asking where I was?”

Lu San withdrew both her arms and her maternal warmth, sneering, “What’s it to you? If we’d waited for you to pick her up, she’d still be in the hospital now.”

Growing more anxious, Luo Mingyue turned to run when her mother raised her voice: “Why don’t you check Feng Baiming’s room? Maybe she came looking for you.”

Her feet executed a tire-screeching turn worthy of a race track, sending her hurtling toward Feng’s quarters. Yet at the threshold, hesitation took hold—she stared at the wooden floorboards as if they might blossom, only then noticing the unlocked door, clearly left open for her.

Her mind was in turmoil, trying to figure out how to explain Lu Jia’s fate to Feng Baiming. Even as she pushed open the door, she was still wondering—would Feng blame her for what happened to Lu Jia?

What kind of image would she become in Feng Baiming’s eyes? A schemer who had planned this all along? Certainly not the Luo Mingyue she had presented herself as—timid, perhaps, but ultimately kind and gentle.

Yet when she saw the figure sitting quietly at the desk, head bowed over a book, she couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t even know why she was smiling. Despite the unease still churning inside her, there was just something about this person that made joy bloom in her heart the moment she saw her.

Feng Baiming turned a page of her book and placed a photo she had been using as a bookmark on the table. Luo Mingyue stepped closer—it was a group photo taken when Feng first arrived at the Lu family, during the welcoming banquet. Feng stood with Lu Ping, Lu Xi, Lu Le, and Luo Mingyue.

In the photo, Feng was flanked by Lu Xi and Lu Le, each holding one of her arms, while Luo Mingyue stood at the very edge. Her smile in the picture was faint, but at the time, she had been so nervous she didn’t know where to put her hands, forcing herself not to look at Feng Baiming in front of the camera. All she had been thinking about was how to ask for a photo with Feng alone.

But in the end, just like in her past life, the only photo she had of Feng was this one—separated by others.

Unsure why Feng had taken out this particular photo, Luo Mingyue began reciting the explanation she had rehearsed in her mind like a memorized passage: “My phone died—I didn’t mean to ignore your messages. Zhang Fengli didn’t believe Lu Jia’s story, so she took me and Grandmother to the docks, and we boarded the cruise ship—”

But Feng interrupted her. “The reason I stopped replying to you was because someone sent me a photo of Lu Jia resting her head on your shoulder while you were asleep.”

Luo Mingyue was stunned into silence. Feng continued, “I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. I just thought… you and Lu Jia were together.”

A wave of disbelief surged through Luo Mingyue’s confusion. Her lips parted slightly, wanting to ask something, but the evening breeze rustled the curtains just as thunder rumbled outside. The first drops of rain began to fall. Feng turned the photo over—on the back, three lines of text were written in meticulous calligraphy.

The strokes were sharp and deliberate, every turn of the pen carrying an almost severe precision. Each character was written with utmost care.

Suppressing the storm of questions inside her, Luo Mingyue leaned in to read the words:

I want to witness every moment of her past eighteen years,

and hold her hand when my life reaches its end.

Her breath caught. Then, the next line:

If lovers could cross the river of time,

I would keep her hidden in my embrace.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them. Feng was watching her, and when she saw Luo Mingyue’s tears, her own eyes grew moist without her realizing.

Amid the sound of pouring rain, Luo Mingyue read the final line:

May fate be kind to her,

and may her path beyond eighteen be safe.

Clutching the photo, she finally managed to speak through her tears, “Thank you… Miss Feng.”

Then, her other hand was taken into Feng’s grasp. In the dim room, with the curtains swaying and the humid dusk air thick around them, Feng suddenly stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of Luo Mingyue’s lips.

In that instant, a fleeting moment became eternity. She saw the endless river of time rushing forward, and someone crossing its currents—returning from distant memories.

Unshakable as bedrock, radiant as the morning star. Feng turned her head and smiled, and it was as breathtaking as the first light of dawn.

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