Waiting for You for a Long Time, But You Haven't Arrived - Chapter 13

“As for Ming Yishu, I want her dead.”

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”

After uttering those words, Jiang Qionghua’s chaotic mind felt like a cauldron of boiling water. Something had suddenly become tangled and unclear—when did Ming Yishu and Ji Zijun become so close? What business did they have that they felt the need to hide it from her and act in secret? She, the one in power, had somehow become the outsider.

Ji Zijun worked under Jiang Qionghua and followed her orders. Rationally, Jiang Qionghua knew she could have simply commanded Ji Zijun to resolve the fallout from Yang Bofu’s death. Both Ming Yishu and Ji Zijun were subservient to her; she shouldn’t be this furious…

But she was currently livid, beyond the reach of careful reasoning.

Betrayal by those close to her was a forbidden zone she could not touch—she couldn’t even bear to think of it. Once her thoughts drifted there, she felt as if she had been transported back to those years when the despicable Tang Guangjun had sent her to the celestial dungeons. There, she had suffered the world’s most agonizing tortures. To this day, she never dared to fully undress, fearing the sight of her own scars.

Whenever she dismissed her servants to bathe alone in her robes, she hated Tang Guangjun with a burning passion.

She hated him too much.

She even hated those ten years Tang Guangjun had existed in her life. She hated that she had met him then, and she hated that she had so recklessly trusted him…

Why didn’t he just die?

Ten years of loyalty—why was it destroyed in an instant?

Hate…

It had been six years since Tang Guangjun’s death, yet whenever Jiang Qionghua thought of him, she still wished to feast on his flesh and crush his bones.

She regretted it. She regretted that when she killed him back then, she had let him die so quickly. She shouldn’t have taken her revenge so swiftly; she should have kept him alive to torture him slowly.

Yes, she had even used a blade to slash Tang Guangjun’s face back then, ensuring that even in the underworld, he would have no face to show anyone.

Face.

Jiang Qionghua suddenly realized something—Ji Zijun also wore a mask to hide her face.

Could it really be such a coincidence?

She had indeed asked Ji Zijun once why she wore that peacock feather mask. The answer given was that her enemy, Tang Guangjun, had been jealous of her beauty and had ordered someone to slash her face with a knife.

Laughable.

At this moment, Jiang Qionghua utterly despised her six-years-ago self. How could she have been so foolish as to believe such a story? Oh, she hadn’t just believed it; she had heavily relied on Ji Zijun precisely because they shared a common enemy.

Utterly moronic.

Ji Zijun and Tang Guangjun… there was an abnormally extreme connection.

Tang Guangjun and Ming Yishu… Ming Yishu was that man’s kin.

Ming Yishu and Ji Zijun… they had been teacher and student for all these years.

What was the goal here? Was an evil spirit, unsatisfied after ruining a person, returning in a different skin?

Who was the “human skin” that Tang Guangjun had reincarnated into?

If she hadn’t watched Tang Guangjun be placed in a coffin and buried deep underground with her own eyes, she might have…

No, even that wasn’t enough.

Jiang Qionghua stood up and walked out, summoning a hidden guard. She ordered her men to dig up Tang Guangjun’s grave, pry open the coffin, and see if the skeleton had disappeared.

She should have ground his bones to ash back then! Instead, fueled by a desire to preserve her hatred, she had chosen to erect a monument and a tomb for him.

Her six-years-ago self had been too soft-hearted, lacking the ruthlessness she possessed now. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have given Tang Guangjun any chance to “resurrect from the dead.”

Thus, in her towering rage, Jiang Qionghua ordered her subordinates to seize Ji Zijun. She intended to interrogate her thoroughly about the events of the past.

Everyone in the Prime Minister’s manor was terrified, keeping their eyes downcast and wishing they were three miles away, desperate not to be caught in the Right Prime Minister’s path of fury.

Jiang Qionghua took a deep breath and turned back into Ming Yishu’s bedchamber.

Her previous outburst had clearly terrified Ming Yishu. The girl was still standing in the same spot, staring blankly, completely unaware of what had happened.

Was she truly ignorant, or was it an act?

Jiang Qionghua slowly raised a hand to grip her slender neck. Moving upward, her thumb and forefinger hooked under the girl’s smooth jawline. Finally, Jiang Qionghua spoke: “Yishu, tell me… should I still keep you around?”

Ming Yishu knelt in terror: “Aunt, Yishu does not know what she has done wrong.”

“What you did wrong?” Jiang Qionghua repeated the words with a mocking laugh. She leaned down halfway, caressing the girl’s cheek. “Your wrong is that an evil spirit should not put on this skin to deceive me again.”

She obsessively traced Ming Yishu’s jawline, as if desperate to find a seam where she could peel back the human skin and rip out Tang Guangjun’s bones—to see if the person before her was still the girl she had loved for years.

Ming Yishu broke into a cold sweat at this terrifying gesture. The moisture beaded on the bridge of her thin, delicate nose, only to be gently wiped away by Jiang Qionghua.

Jiang Qionghua’s movements were tender, but her eyes had turned cold to the core. She thought to herself: Ming Yishu truly possessed a beauty where delicate bones supported the skin—a beauty so transcendent it didn’t seem human.

She was like a sprite or a ghost passing through this world; perhaps she really had been possessed by Tang Guangjun’s soul.

“Aunt, I don’t understand.”

Ming Yishu couldn’t comprehend how, in a matter of moments, the Jiang Qionghua before her could spiral into such uncontrollable rage. It was just an ordinary letter; it didn’t say anything unusual. It merely entrusted her teacher to handle some matters that would ultimately benefit her Aunt. Why was she so angry?

Facing the unprovoked malice of her beloved, Ming Yishu showed a rare moment of helplessness. She stood before Jiang Qionghua in a daze, not knowing what to say or do to appease her, or what punishment the other woman required before they could reconcile.

Ming Yishu raised her eyes sorrowfully, meeting Jiang Qionghua’s gaze filled with heaven-shaking hatred and utter loathing.

It was a hatred so deep that Ming Yishu felt she couldn’t have accumulated it even if she had spent every single day of the last six years hurting her.

This hatred… this loathing… it had to be at least a decade in the making.

Who was she hating through her?

Thinking of this, Ming Yishu suddenly felt she could endure the grievance. After all, her Aunt’s anger and hatred weren’t directed at her. She could still apologize; she could still repair their relationship and return to how they were before. It was fine…

“I am not anyone else.” To prove her point, Ming Yishu reached out and grabbed Jiang Qionghua’s hand, guiding it to tighten around her own throat. “As long as Aunt can set aside her hatred and stay calm for a moment, I don’t mind if you use me to vent your anger.”

Jiang Qionghua’s precarious sanity returned slightly. She wasn’t truly going to strangle Ming Yishu so impulsively. Thus, she did not increase her pressure; she simply withdrew her hand in silence.

She was waiting—waiting for Tang Guangjun’s coffin to be pried open, waiting for Ji Zijun to be captured and brought before her, waiting for a result that would finally grant her peace of mind…

In the meantime, she would refrain from making things difficult for Ming Yishu.

Seeing Jiang Qionghua loosen her grip, Ming Yishu mistakenly thought the other’s anger had subsided. She coughed softly, her chest tightening with a familiar discomfort, but knowing it was not the time for medicine, she could only reach out and gently tug at Jiang Qionghua’s sleeve. She sought a sliver of contact to soothe her own emotions and suppress the rising misery in her heart.

Jiang Qionghua, however, was in no mood to forgive her. She cast a cold, sidelong glance at Ming Yishu on the floor, flicked her sleeve away, and walked out the door with a face like thunder.

Ming Yishu hurriedly called out, “It’s cold at night. Aunt, don’t leave.”

“You won’t drop dead just because you’re away from me. Have your bones grown soft from kneeling too long?” When angry, Jiang Qionghua was prone to harsh words, knowing exactly how to strike where it hurt most without a care for the other person’s dignity. “Get up. Don’t let me find you pathetic.”

A dull ringing filled Ming Yishu’s ears. She heard every word clearly, but once they left Jiang Qionghua’s lips, it was as if she couldn’t understand them anymore.

Is this really what she thinks of me?

She had never imagined that one day she would hear such insulting words from the woman she loved. To Jiang Qionghua, she had apparently always been a “dodder flower”—a parasite that existed only to cling to others.

Such an evaluation was utterly alien to her. In her original world, she had left home at a young age and faced every hardship alone. She was used to being independent; no one had ever spoken of her this way.

It turned out that words could truly be devastating.

The physical palpitations she felt were nothing compared to the agony Jiang Qionghua had just inflicted upon her. It felt as if someone were forcibly ripping out her spine; the pain was tangible, spreading through the marrow of her bones, an unbearable ache.

Never lose your dignity. She once had her own bottom line, refusing to bow to anyone.

She remembered the years of hardship in her past life. A wealthy entrepreneur involved in a foundation had taken a liking to her face and offered a massive sum to keep her as a mistress. She had refused, even though she was desperate for money.

The man had sent his subordinates to ask her many times with extreme sincerity. His secretary even sent photos, explaining that the entrepreneur was a beautiful woman only five years older than her, someone who loved antiques and calligraphy and had no demeaning habits. It was her first time making such a proposal, and she asked Ming Yishu to reconsider…

Ming Yishu had still refused, and the contact had ceased.

All the principles she had once held dear meant nothing after she had transmigrated into this book. Time and again, she had lowered herself, casting aside her pride to cater to Jiang Qionghua’s whims, to obey her, and to care for her willingly. And in the end, her reward was the humiliation of being called a “dodder flower.”

How ironic.

Ming Yishu remained kneeling in a daze. By the time she looked up again, Jiang Qionghua was gone.

She stood up alone and turned away, concealing the shard of shame in her heart and refusing to let herself look wretched any longer.

Outside the Door

A row of hidden guards knelt before Jiang Qionghua.

“Your subordinate is incompetent. The Ji residence is already empty; she took nothing of value,” the guard reported. “Ji Zijun seemed to have anticipated something and left in a great hurry. She fled alone, and none of the servants in the manor noticed a thing.”

Had she not fled, Jiang Qionghua might have had the patience to investigate and perhaps clear her name. But this flight was a confession of guilt.

Jiang Qionghua furrowed her brows and ordered her men to hunt her down.

“Ji Zijun has many tricks and her methods are sinister. If you can capture her, do so. If not, execute her on the spot and bring back her head.” Jiang Qionghua then asked, “Is Tang Guangjun’s coffin open yet? Why is it taking so long?”

It had started to snow again. Her internal rage was so great that she didn’t even feel the cold standing in the drifts.

After an unknown amount of time, the other team of hidden guards rushed back to report.

“Prime Minister, inside Tang Guangjun’s coffin—there are no remains.”

Jiang Qionghua froze. “What?” she demanded, her voice sharp with disbelief.

The nightmare had come true; the evil spirit had returned.

An overwhelming chill enveloped Jiang Qionghua. Her agitation pushed her toward a loss of control. How could this be?

She had killed Tang Guangjun with her own hands. She had watched the coffin lowered into the earth. At that time, his heart had stopped, and the aura of death had covered him completely. Even the most miraculous physician could not have revived a dead man, yet the bones had vanished into thin air.

“Prime Minister!” “Right Prime Minister!”

Her subordinates saw her stagger and rushed forward to support her.

Jiang Qionghua pressed a hand to her forehead while the other was held by a guard. Her gaze was venomous, her jaw clenched so tight her teeth nearly shattered. With a voice dripping with murderous hatred, she commanded Bo Lu:

“Where is Ming Yishu? Bring her out. I want to kill her—let’s see if she can return from the dead for me as well.”

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