Transmigrated as the CEO's Top-Tier Stand-in - Chapter 29

Chapter 29

When Ji Yu returned to the rehearsal venue, the break time had just ended. Ling Lan was about to come over and share the rap lyrics she had just finished writing, but a glimpse of Ji Yu’s slightly red eyes startled her:

“Your eyes look swollen. Is it inflamed?”

Ji Yu: “…”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, but Jiang Lianque, who was always with Ling Lan, was giving out cookies to other trainees nearby. Hearing Ling Lan’s voice, she was about to step forward and offer her eye drops and erythromycin eye ointment, but a glance at Ji Yu’s expression changed her words:

“It’s almost autumn now, and the temperature difference between day and night is quite large. It’s probably just the wind outside.”

Ji Yu’s gaze met hers. She felt a sense of relief, suppressed the swirling thoughts on her face, and offered a smile, responding: “Yes, exactly.”

Ling Lan sensed a subtle, uncertain feeling in their tones and was about to take a closer look at Ji Yu’s face when Jiang Lianque suddenly covered her eyes with her hand. Her silver short hair clashed with Ling Lan’s radiant, light-like golden long hair, like the sun and moon shining together. Ling Lan blinked her eyes, her eyelashes brushing Jiang Lianque’s palm, and took a few steps back in confusion:

“Hey, hey, hey? What are you doing?”

Jiang Lianque nodded and smiled at Ji Yu, but casually said: “Nothing. Didn’t you just share your lyrics with me? I’ve thought of a few lines too. Let’s discuss them.”

Ling Lan raised her hand to pull away Jiang Lianque’s palm, then turned back to look at her: “Discussing is fine, but why cover my eyes?”

Jiang Lianque blinked, feigning an innocent expression: “Ah, a slip of the hand.”

But she successfully diverted Ling Lan’s attention. Ling Lan, who was extremely concerned about her rap work, immediately plunged into the discussion, no longer remembering what she wanted to tell Ji Yu, especially after Jiang Lianque also pulled Rong Bai over.

Wang Luoshui should have been sitting in the control room backstage, but the performance venue was simply too large, and the camera placement below wasn’t ideal. She had to come down to supervise personally, including adjusting the movable camera at the very front of the stage.

She stood at the very edge of the first row of the audience seats, watching the girls chatting in small groups during the break, and noticed that Ji Yu seemed somewhat absent-minded, standing alone on the side.

This made Wang Luoshui think of Meng Rendong, who had gone out with Ji Yu earlier. Now Ji Yu was back, but where was Meng Rendong?

Given her recent behavior, shouldn’t she be following Ji Yu’s stage performance to the very end?

She frowned, unusually stopping her assistant with a gesture when they came over to remind her of something. Thinking about the unreleased interview she held, Wang Luoshui pulled out her phone and sent a message to Meng Rendong:

“Where did you go? Not watching the next rehearsal?”

The message sank without a trace.

Wang Luoshui waited and waited, eventually having to let her assistant talk about the matter first. Then came the next rehearsal. When she was done with the busy period and finally remembered to check her phone, she found Meng Rendong still hadn’t replied.

She had no choice but to call.

It wasn’t turned off.

But no one answered.

Wang Luoshui checked the time. It was past midnight. The team had already returned to the hotel in the scenic area. She checked the night shift schedule, confirmed there were no issues, informed her assistant, changed her clothes, and headed toward the parking lot.

Rewind a few hours.

Meng Rendong heard the words Ji Yu said. Her entire body felt nailed to the spot, unable to move, or perhaps she had just been squatting for too long, making her legs numb.

Her face darkened. She wanted to warn Ji Yu about what she could and couldn’t say, but when her eyes met Ji Yu’s remarkably clear gaze, all those words failed to come out.

A subtle arc of light flashed in her mind.

She suddenly remembered that every time Ji Yu faced her, although she carried a gentle smile, she never called her by her name, even in bed. When she couldn’t bear it, she would only whine:

“You… go slower…”

It was precisely because of this that when Ji Yu called her “President Meng” during the breakup, it felt so abrupt, making her realize how intimate they had once been.

But it turns out.

None of those words were meant for her.

That was why Ji Yu could pull away so effortlessly after such devoted effort, leaving her alone to slowly savor the loss, realizing more deeply each day what kind of warmth Ji Yu had brought her during those four years.

It was like her sluggish emotional nerves finally creaked into motion, crushing and digesting those details she hadn’t noticed that had accumulated over four years. So, she realized with a start:

Oh, the person who stayed by my side loved me like that.

And I saw nothing at the time.

Yet, she was still adrift in the storm of heartbreak, like a small boat, liable to be overturned by a wave at any moment. She swayed back and forth, one moment telling herself Ji Yu truly loved her, the next unable to help but doubt: if she really loved her, why did she leave without a word?

Where did Ji Yu become disappointed in her?

During the time she, as an investor, clocked in daily at Dream Chasing 100, Meng Rendong refused to let go of any detail about Ji Yu. She began to desperately want to compensate. She started noting Ji Yu’s habits—a sensitive stomach, not eating sweets—and also began reflecting on her past attitude towards Ji Yu, even learning to appreciate the glimmering stardom that Ji Yu was slowly revealing.

She always imagined when Ji Yu would agree to reconcile with her, and what she needed to change or prepare for it.

Now Meng Rendong finally knew the answer.

She didn’t need to prepare anything.

Because Ji Yu never liked her from the start, and that deep affection wasn’t directed at her.

She was merely a substitute.

Meng Rendong thought with a sneer, a sense of absurd laughter bubbling up from her heart.

In the previous years, her friends watched her change lovers one after another, assuming she couldn’t forget Chu Jianyu. But she never explained, letting others guess. In reality, Chu Jianyu was only sixteen when she left, and Meng Rendong was just nineteen, an age still hazy about relationships. For A-Yu…

It was more a feeling of guilt and despair.

Chu Jianyu was the warmth she held onto in her youth, transitioning Meng Rendong from the sudden realization of “Perhaps I was destined to be insulated from love since birth” to “It turns out there are still people in this world willing to be kind to me.” She secretly swore to herself that she would make Chu Jianyu happy forever.

But then that tragedy happened.

She was right nearby.

But Meng Rendong was simply too late.

She could never forgive her lateness. In countless midnight dreams, she ran repeatedly down that road, believing she could rewind time and snatch the person back from the hands of Death.

But she couldn’t.

She faced the cold body again and again.

She fell into an endless spiral of self-reproach. Later, when she entered the industry and coincidentally met several girls who resembled Chu Jianyu, out of an unspeakable need for compensation, she allowed those girls to be near her. Just looking at them made her feel settled, and she never harbored any crossing-the-line thoughts because anyone who resembled A-Yu should be pure.

But eventually, watching them utilize her resources to advance step by step, Meng Rendong slowly understood:

A-Yu really wasn’t coming back.

No one would be her.

In this disillusionment, she met Ji Yu. Having already given up on herself, she discarded that nearly decaying compensation mentality and mistakenly chose a path of “sponsorship,” observing Ji Yu’s repeated dedication without being moved, thinking she would be like the others before her.

But this one time, reality slapped her hard across the face.

Ji Yu wasn’t as lively as Chu Jianyu. She was quieter, able to endure the loneliness of Meng Rendong’s infrequent visits. She didn’t possess the spoiled nature of someone raised with care. At least, Meng Rendong believed that if Chu Jianyu had grown up safely in the Chu family, she would have been showered with love. How could the Chu family have allowed her to wash her hands and cook for others?

Meng Rendong gradually began to focus on the person beside her, and over the years of Ji Yu’s gentle persistence, her hardened heart slowly softened. She genuinely wanted to treat Ji Yu well, even though she had never been in a relationship and lacked experience.

But it was with Ji Yu.

Her complacency met with a backlash.

Meng Rendong thought fate would no longer have the energy to torment her, yet here it was again. As a child, she tried to trust her stepmother, only to have her fantasy brutally shattered by her brother, making her so embarrassed she wished to flee. Later, she met Chu Jianyu, yet Chu Jianyu lost her life right before her eyes. And now Ji Yu, not too early, not too late, told her the truth exactly when she was ready to cherish her.

A thousand thoughts flashed through Meng Rendong’s mind. She rarely lifted the corner of her lips, unwilling to reveal her internally collapsed defense. She even asked casually:

“Is that so?”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

Ji Yu didn’t answer, still looking at her with that gaze. The look was remarkably calm; the former devotion seemed like a very distant past.

Meng Rendong asked again: “So, you never liked me, right?”

Ji Yu remained silent.

Meng Rendong understood a lot from this prolonged silence. She smiled again, murmuring to herself: “That’s fine… that’s good…”

So you never liked me, that’s great. Then I don’t have to feel guilty for betraying a relationship.

I don’t have to prepare those reconciliation ceremonies anymore.

I also don’t have to commute back and forth to this place every day. After all, the morning and evening rush hours between the city and the suburbs are too taxing on patience.

Meng Rendong thought she should be happy and relieved. She stood up, feigning composure, wanting to project her CEO aura and leave Ji Yu with a dashing back. But Heaven wouldn’t even grant her this last bit of dignity.

Having squatted for too long, the moment she stood up, the dizziness seized her, nearly making her stumble and fall.

Fortunately, she held onto the wall. After walking a few steps, her pace accelerated.

Until she walked out of the venue, looking around blankly for a long time.

Meng Rendong seemed to remember everything, yet forgot everything. For the first time outside of work hours, she called Uncle Zhang, asking him to pick her up and take her home.

Her phone, on silent mode, buzzed continuously on the table, trying to draw her attention.

Meng Rendong lay motionless on the sofa, as if she hadn’t heard it. She didn’t know how long she maintained this state. Her stomach felt uncomfortably burning, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten dinner.

But she merely raised her hand and casually pressed her abdomen, as if that would soothe it. Then she turned over, tightly closed her eyes, trying to drive away everything with sleepiness.

She succeeded.

Meng Rendong finally escaped reality. She fell asleep and had another dream.

But even the dream wouldn’t spare her.

She dreamt again of the day Chu Jianyu died.

Chu Nanxing wanted to fish. Chu Jianyu saw there were no railings by the fishing spot, so she stayed with her sister. Yan Xi couldn’t stand the sun and pulled Wang Luoshui away to buy cold drinks.

Meng Rendong originally intended to follow Chu Jianyu and her sister, but the place was too hot. Soon, Chu Nanxing also mumbled about wanting water. She and Chu Jianyu exchanged a look, and then she heard herself stand up and say: “I’ll go buy them. I can also ask Luoshui where they are.”

As soon as she heard those words, Meng Rendong’s own consciousness seemed to awaken. She desperately wanted to say:

Don’t go, don’t go.

But she could only watch her dream self walk away, even following Yan Xi’s suggestion that a nearby summer resort had a particularly good sour plum soup and getting into their car.

When she returned, there were few people at the fishing lodge, but bursts of dog barking rang out, making her heart clench.

Meng Rendong repeated the action she had done countless times: dropping the water in her hand, rushing toward the area without a second thought. By the time she arrived, Chu Jianyu’s figure was no longer visible on the water. Adults were wading in the water searching, and someone on the bank shook their head and gestured. Meng Rendong’s ominous premonition intensified. She immediately jumped into the water.

Chu Jianyu was tangled by the underwater weeds.

She and the villagers from the fishing lodge used tools to cut the weeds and rescue the person.

But by then…

The person was gone.

Meng Rendong watched herself kneeling beside Chu Jianyu with cold eyes, letting others persuade her, letting adults pull her. Later, the police, the Meng family, the Chu family—many people came, but she refused to leave.

She couldn’t even hear what the people around her were saying.

She just looked up at the gray sky in the dream, calmly thinking:

Here we go again.

It had been a long time since she dreamt of Chu Jianyu. It turned out this dream still hadn’t let her go, reminding her again and again that she was too late. She shouldn’t have left. How wonderful if she hadn’t gone.

She faintly felt she should be crying.

But there was nothing until the dream vaguely shifted to another segment.

A scene she had never witnessed.

Meng Rendong paused.

She seemed to be in a hospital room.

A girl was lying on the hospital bed.

She couldn’t help but wonder: Is this… Jianyu… was Jianyu saved?

Was Heaven trying to play tricks on her again? Trying to give her hope only to make her despair? What would happen if she went closer, only to find this person wasn’t Chu Jianyu, right?

Meng Rendong stood still, but she saw a gaze peering over from the corridor window.

The next moment.

The dream shifted again.

A figure appeared beside the girl on the hospital bed. Meng Rendong was neither close nor far. She couldn’t seem to approach, so she could only focus on listening to the two people talk.

The person sitting on the chair was telling a story.

The content of the story rushed into her ears.

“I once had a friend… she was a very quiet person when she was little…”

As Meng Rendong listened, she slowly felt something was wrong. She lowered her head and realized her perspective had changed. She had become the person sitting by the bed, and that strange story, spoken from her own mouth, was about her own childhood.

She was full of doubts. Her eyes lifted, and she saw the patient information stuck on the headboard:

Ji Yu, 16 years old, no dietary restrictions…

Meng Rendong was stunned. At this moment, she heard her words nearing the end: “Do you like to dance?”

The girl on the bed smiled at her: “You’re telling it in such detail. Are you the protagonist of the story?”

She heard her own reply: “No.”

“So, you envy that neighbor girl named A-Yu, and since my name has a similar sound, you want me to treat you like she treated her friend?”

Meng Rendong was completely frozen.

Although she didn’t know why she was dreaming this, at this moment, her heart was pounding.

She mocked herself, You’re utterly pathetic.

Even while dreaming of A-Yu, she was still thinking of Ji Yu. They were clearly two different people. Don’t mix them up again, or you’ll let both of them down.

But even thinking this, seeing the girl’s rarely brightened gaze, perhaps out of nostalgia, or perhaps for something else, Meng Rendong’s words coincided with those of the person sitting by the bed:

“No.”

The next moment, she heard the person say: “Don’t be A-Yu…”

Meng Rendong listened and smiled.

She looked at Ji Yu’s face with a mix of longing and curiosity. In dreams, people’s faces are often unclear and should be blurry upon waking, but at this moment, she saw Ji Yu with exceptional clarity. She figured the dream was simply too chaotic, randomly assigning Chu Jianyu’s face to Ji Yu.

She didn’t mind.

She just slowly spoke to the girl in her heart:

Don’t be A-Yu.

Don’t become her.

Ji Yu, you have to be well. You have to be safe, healthy, and happy. There’s already too much misfortune around me. You can’t be the next one.

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