When the Male Lead Finds Out I’m the Transmigrator Trying to Win Him Over - Chapter 17

The news of Meng Tingmo’s marital scandal shot straight to the trending searches.

There were photos as evidence: in the shopping mall’s fourth-floor corridor, Meng Tingmo was seen holding another woman in his arms and leaving, right in front of his wife. His wife was only captured from behind, so her face wasn’t visible, but according to people present at the scene, Meng Tingmo’s wife was pregnant and close to her due date.

Public opinion exploded, the internet went wild.

“Didn’t he say ‘I really love my wife’? So it was all just an act.”

“Scumbag and slut, both should go to hell! If you don’t love her, why make her pregnant in the first place!”

“Word is, that woman is Meng’s first love. His wife has no power or influence. Maybe he married her on purpose.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means he can bully her at will. Marry when he wants, divorce when he wants. He’s not afraid of her family coming after him.”

…

The attention was too high, even Meng Corporation’s stock price started fluctuating. Father Meng hurriedly called Meng Tingmo home to question him, still clinging to a faint hope it might all be a misunderstanding. But Meng Tingmo’s very first words were: “I want a divorce.”

Mother Meng slapped him across the face, but Meng Tingmo refused to take it back.

Yun Ruo knew none of this—or perhaps, didn’t care.

She was at home preparing He Xitong’s birthday gift.

He Xitong never lacked money, so birthday presents were always hard to prepare. Later, He Xitong had suggested an idea:

“Let’s take photos of everything we do together. You can make them into an album and give it to me on my birthday. I’ll treasure it forever.”

“When we’re old, we’ll look back at each memory one by one.”

Naturally, Yun Ruo agreed. She had been giving this gift for six years. After being with Meng Tingmo, every time she prepared He Xitong’s birthday present, Meng Tingmo would get jealous, feeling neglected.

She opened the album. On the left were photos, on the right empty text boxes waiting for her notes.

“January 3rd — went skiing with Xitong. I stumbled a lot, Xitong said she’d hold me while skiing: ‘Don’t be afraid of falling, I’ll cushion you and protect you.’”

“February 6th — New Year’s. Xitong called and said, ‘This year my birthday wish is to keep being good friends with you.’”

…

“May 17th — belly showing a little. Xitong said she definitely wants to be the godmother.”

“July 12th — Xitong closed a big deal. Congratulations! I hope everything you do succeeds.”

…

“October 3rd — Xitong traveled. Unfortunately I couldn’t go, but she sent me photos, each one edited with my figure added in.”

“Xitong said, ‘No matter where I go, we’ll always be together.’”

…

“November 7th — because of Meng Tingmo’s sudden coldness, I cried to Xitong. This was our last friendly gathering.”

Her pen halted here. She wanted to write more but felt it unnecessary.

In the end, she only wrote:

“Happy birthday, Xitong. Wishing you success in everything.”

She stopped writing, closed the album, and placed it in the gift box.

Tomorrow was He Xitong’s birthday banquet. She had posted the venue in her Moments, inviting only close friends to celebrate.

Yun Ruo finished packing and went to bed early.

The next day, at the banquet venue, Yun Ruo arrived bundled up. She needed to keep warm now; her belly was large, walking slow. By the time she got there, the party had already started.

Luckily, she hadn’t planned to join.

Gifts were placed on shelves by the entrance, stacked high. Yun Ruo found a spot for her gift box, just as the singing drifted from inside:

“Happy birthday to you~”

She didn’t rush to leave, standing there until the whole song finished before putting her hat back on.

This way, it counted as her celebrating for He Xitong too.

Eight years of friendship deserved a farewell. She wasn’t as cold as Meng Tingmo, who could cut ties with a simple “don’t want anymore.”

When Yun Ruo got in the car, she received a call from He Xitong—unexpected. Wasn’t she busy celebrating? Yun Ruo thought she wouldn’t have the energy to call.

She answered, and a rushed, almost panicked voice came through: “Where are you?”

It sounded like someone searching for someone. Maybe a friend stuck on the road hadn’t arrived yet, and He Xitong was anxious.

“Wrong number?” Yun Ruo asked.

There was silence.

After a while, He Xitong confirmed the number: “Yun Ruo.”

“Mm.” Yun Ruo replied.

“…Do you remember what day it is today?”

“Happy birthday.”

Something clattered to the floor on the other end, like a glass shattering. He Xitong hurried to clean up.

The background was noisy. Yun Ruo set her phone down. Call duration: 45 seconds.

She pressed hang up.

The driver started the car. Bathed in warm sunlight, the car headed toward Liuli Road.

Back home, it was still early. Yun Ruo began tidying the house. This had been their marital home, filled with too many things belonging to her and Meng Tingmo.

The housekeeper dared not touch Meng Tingmo’s things, unsure what should be packed. Yun Ruo realized she’d been wrong—this house had already been returned to Meng Tingmo. What needed packing were her belongings.

When she first came to this world, she had nothing. Now, sorting piece by piece, she realized she had left many traces.

As she was cleaning the bedside table, the housekeeper knocked, holding a delivery: “Madam, your parcel.”

It was a thick envelope. The housekeeper remembered receiving a similar one before. She felt uneasy.

Yun Ruo took it, about to open it, but the housekeeper lingered. Yun Ruo had to put it aside: “Something wrong?”

The housekeeper glanced into the spotless bedroom, feeling something missing. She couldn’t tell what. Then recalled the news—Meng Tingmo rekindling with the Jiang family’s daughter…

“Nothing. Madam, what would you like for dinner?”

Yun Ruo named two dishes casually. Once the housekeeper left, she closed the door and opened the parcel: inside was a contract.

Not rushing to read, she continued packing. At the bedside, she hesitated over a photo frame before placing the entire frame into her suitcase, unable to remove the picture.

That evening, it was just Yun Ruo and the housekeeper again.

She was used to eating dinner without Meng Tingmo. Yun Ruo was quiet, the housekeeper didn’t dare start conversation. They ate in silence.

Afterward, Yun Ruo received a message from a realtor. The last time she’d looked at houses, nothing had worked, but she’d added him on WeChat.

Realtor Xiao Wang: “Sis, a new property just listed. Current tenant leaves in half a month, not renewing. Conditions fit your needs. Here are photos—if okay, I’ll schedule a viewing.”

Yun Ruo looked and agreed. The realtor went to set it up. She paced the house a bit.

The housekeeper thought she was exercising: “Why not walk in the yard?”

“Too cold,” Yun Ruo smiled. “I’ll stay inside.”

By nine, everything was tidy. After showering, she came out to see the contract on her desk—one her lawyer had drafted. He had been shocked by her request, confirming it multiple times.

She flipped through each page carefully. In the quiet, only the sound of paper turning filled the room. Once sure it was fine, she dialed Meng Tingmo’s number.

She hadn’t initiated a call to him in a long time.

The first went unanswered. She called again.

Meng Tingmo, knowing she wouldn’t give up, finally picked up, his voice cold: “Speak.”

Yun Ruo’s fingers trembled.

Pathetic, she thought, before asking: “Can you come home tomorrow?”

“No.” He wasn’t lying—he had a business trip for three days. “Anything else?”

“Yes.”

She had held a question in her heart for so long. Part of her thought it impossible, but part wondered what if? Maybe her relationships weren’t beyond saving.

With her last shred of hope, she asked, voice trembling:

“Tingmo… have you recently encountered something… unbelievable?”

Like a system, some supernatural existence.

His sudden change—she could only explain it this way. If not, then the only answer left was: Meng Tingmo no longer loved her. Overnight.

Meng Tingmo understood her implication. He wanted to say yes, to roar at her: How could you do this to me? Was it fun to play with my feelings? If you could chase me for five years, why not love me for real?!

But reason pulled him back. He swallowed the words.

Jiang Yufei’s warning echoed: “If she knows we’ve discovered the truth, won’t her system twist our minds again?”

He wouldn’t be deceived twice.

“No,” Meng Tingmo forced out, hatred rising against her manipulation. “I’m doing fine. I don’t need your fake concern.”

So that’s how it is. Yun Ruo closed her eyes. She could finally let go.

“Please come back tomorrow. It’s important.”

“No time.” He didn’t explain about his trip.

Yun Ruo stroked her belly. Did he truly not want her—or their child?

“I want the child.”

In his hotel suite, Meng Tingmo rubbed his temples, laptop open to Yun Ruo’s prenatal checkup from the day before.

The doctor had said her mental state was poor, data fluctuating. He was advised to spend more time with her.

But she’ll be fine, he told himself. Yun Ruo had a system. If in trouble, she could just make a wish.

“The system with me is better than with you. At least my love is real.”

Yun Ruo was Yun Ruo, the child was the child. She was selfish, but the child was innocent. If left to her, she might raise the child just like her.

That was the only reason he wanted custody—no other reason, he told himself.

“Alright.” Yun Ruo agreed.

She wanted custody, but she knew she couldn’t compete. The Meng family would never let the child leave with her.

“Nothing else,” Yun Ruo said, signaling he could hang up.

But seconds passed. He hadn’t.

Suddenly, sorrow overwhelmed her.

She never imagined parting this way, without even seeing him one last time. All their “future plans” now buried in this phone call.

“Tingmo…”

“There is no future.”

Yun Ruo ended the call.

She set down her phone, picked up a pen, and signed her name on the divorce agreement.

With the final stroke, their love ended.

In his hotel suite, Meng Tingmo stared at his phone, stunned. When Yun Ruo said “there is no future,” a searing pain tore through his heart.

Yun Ruo scheduled the house viewing.

The tenant was an office worker, leaving in half a month, so she hadn’t moved yet. They could only view after work.

Winter nights fell early; at seven it was pitch dark. Yun Ruo waited at the entrance until the realtor arrived. Together they entered.

The neighborhood was old but well-kept, with all basic amenities. Greenery grew thick, freshly pruned that day, branches piled by the roadside.

The tenant, a young woman, was surprised to see a pregnant visitor. She carefully showed the rooms.

When leaving, she softly comforted Yun Ruo: “Everything will get better.”

She didn’t know Yun Ruo’s story, but it wasn’t right for a pregnant woman to house-hunt alone at night.

Yun Ruo smiled and left with the agent.

Everything was going as planned. House found, she told the agent she’d sign tomorrow.

The agent was thrilled—it was his first closed deal.

Just as he was about to offer her a ride home, someone approached from behind: “You’re looking at houses?”

Both froze. It was Jiang Yufei.

Exhaustion filled Yun Ruo. Her again.

She was about to sigh when she remembered something, eyes scanning the area.

Jiang Yufei smirked knowingly: “Don’t bother looking. Tingmo’s away, on a business trip.”

“…Oh.” Yun Ruo nodded.

With an acquaintance present, the agent excused himself, reminding Yun Ruo of the contract signing before leaving.

She acknowledged, then turned to Jiang Yufei’s probing gaze.

“You’re house-hunting at this time?” Jiang Yufei was puzzled. At first she thought Yun Ruo wanted to snatch property before divorce—after all, it was Meng’s money. But the realtor mentioned renting.

And not even a high-rise apartment, but an old walk-up.

“What are you thinking?” She really couldn’t understand.

“None of your business,” Yun Ruo said. They weren’t friends.

She turned to go, but Jiang Yufei called again: “Your due date is close. For the child’s sake, please stay home and be careful.”

Yun Ruo tilted her head. Jiang Yufei frowned, unsure if the concern was real or not.

“In what capacity are you saying this?” Yun Ruo asked, her tone unreadable. “In the future… will it call you ‘Mom’?”

If Jiang Yufei married Meng Tingmo, then her child would be Jiang Yufei’s child.

Jiang Yufei paled, instinctively stepping back.

She had never considered that.

Without an answer, Yun Ruo didn’t press. She went toward the street to hail a cab, while Jiang Yufei stood rooted.

Yun Ruo’s question had shaken her. She had been so focused on defeating Yun Ruo, she’d never thought about what came after.

Being with Meng Tingmo? That was the goal, wasn’t it? Yet unease prickled her.

As her thoughts wandered, a commotion sounded ahead.

She looked up—Yun Ruo was being blocked by a man with a phone, filming her.

“You’re Mrs. Meng, right? Meng Tingmo’s wife?”

“I saw you at Meng Corporation’s press conference before. Meng Tingmo always protected you, wouldn’t let us approach.”

“Can we interview you? Is your marriage really in trouble? Did he really cheat?”

“Just answer quickly, stop pretending…”

The questions came fast. Yun Ruo struggled to cope.

Jiang Yufei froze, then realized—he was a reporter? What the hell, harassing a pregnant woman at night?

She grew angry, ready to shout, but before she could—disaster struck.

Frustrated at Yun Ruo’s silence, the man grabbed at her. He stumbled, losing balance, and Yun Ruo was pulled down with him.

It happened in slow motion before Jiang Yufei’s eyes.

She held her breath, watching Yun Ruo crash heavily to the ground. The scream caught in her throat, then finally tore out:

“Yun Ruo!”

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