I Wish Mo All the Best
Chapter 28
Translator: Henyee Translations Editor: Henyee Translations
While listening to Qianmo, Mu Feifei kept licking her lips. She was so greedy that even an unprofessional could see through her.
“I don’t… know about Lin Xiang, and I might not be able to pass the message for you. Mo, what are you laughing at?” Mu Feifei almost forgot how to tell lies when she saw her daughter giggling.
“It’s okay if you do not know each other. I’ll find another way out.” Qianmo grabbed her handbag. She had reached her purpose, so she could retreat now. If she stayed any longer, she might burst into laughter, seeing Mu Feifei’s covetous behavior.
“Then, I will wait for your call!” Mu Feifei’s mind was all upon the fortune Qianmo was talking about. Therefore, she did not stop Qianmo. She was going back home to figure out how to make Lin Xiang take control of this windfall and whether Qianmo had been telling the truth.
What Qianmo needed to do was already done. She had hooked the prey, and it was now her father’s turn to reel them in.
Qianmo never postponed what she needed to do as she was not a procrastinator. After finishing her tasks, she found that there was still some time left before she needed to go back to school. After giving it a thought, she took a taxi to the wedding house her father bought for her. Qianmo had some personal stuff there, and most importantly, her bankbooks were there, which she needed to get back.
Qianmo had just approached her house when she saw a young woman and her son, who were whispering something in front of the house.
“Mom, I want to live here.” The child looked to be 4 or 5 years old.
That young woman was around 28 or 29, and her eyes were swollen. Obviously, she had cried before sleeping last night.
“We can’t afford this place, sweety. Let’s check somewhere else.”
Painfully denying her son, that woman was about to leave with him. Still, the child constantly glanced at that beautiful two-floor residence in front of him. Qianmo’s house had just been painted, and the boy, who had no idea about the real estate, knew only one thing that greeted his eyes—it was cleaner than any other house next to it.
Seeing Qianmo approach them, the woman threw an embarrassed smile at her. She had a dimple on her face, and that instantly made Qianmo squint—this woman was…
Her cellmate.
Wang Ziying went into prison because of murder, six years earlier than Qianmo. She was relatively weak in personality and was often bullied by fellow prisoners. On top of that, she almost got raped by the head of the prison but was rescued by Qianmo in the end. From that time on, she stuck with Qianmo all year round and became her follower.
There was always a “head” in every district of women prison. And there were four of them who were slightly powerful, one was Qianmo’s aunt, one Qianmo’s good friend, and the other Qianmo’s godmother…
As was evident, Qianmo was a particularly special individual in prison. Those groups would continuously be in a fight with each other, but whenever Qianmo was involved, she would always be the center. She seemed isolated, but no one dared to offend her. So if a weak woman like Wang Ziying didn’t want to be bullied, the best move was to be stuck with Qianmo.
‘Mo, here’s the chicken leg; Mo, here’s the brewed meat; Mo, here’s the food.’
Wang Ziying’s image of sitting opposite her emerged in Qianmo’s mind, so did the scene of her pitching the meat to herself discreetly.
At the very beginning, Wang Ziying was trying to find someone who could keep her safe. But as time went by, she became genuinely loyal to Qianmo. When Qianmo was released, this weak woman didn’t shed tears but held her hands instead, asking her not to return and telling her that the chicken leg outside the jail tasted much better.
There was friendship—no, camaraderie—between cellmates, and Qianmo almost burst out in tears when she saw Ziying’s back-figure all by herself at that moment.
Wang Ziying had no idea about Qianmo’s state of mind and her trip down memory lane. She was about to leave with her son, passing by Qianmo, who caught sight of her back. She was a skinny woman who had too much of a burden on her frail shoulders, just as she was like in her previous life.
According to the timeline, it should be several more months before Wang Ziying committed the murder. Wang Ziying of past life divorced her husband because he physically abused her. She had a tough time with her son, and when they almost settled down, her ex-husband came to her door, harassing and threatening her.
In the beginning, he merely stalked her, but later, when he failed to get her back, he started to attack her. She fought back and called the police, who arrested him and put him behind bars for a couple of days before releasing him due to the unsuccessful crime.
From then on, she had to live under the shadow of her ex-husband. One day, he broke into their apartment and beat the mother and son. He also threatened her with the son, saying that if she didn’t come back to him, he would throw the boy off the building. The woman, who had been obedient throughout her life, raised the blade at that moment.
Qianmo had heard many versions of the stories in her previous life, and all of them had different sufferings. Still, each and every version ended up in the same place: they killed the scumbag, and they all finished up in prison.
Among the cases of killing husbands, 10% of them had the cause of family violence. Wang Ziying was quite the representative, befitting the professional term of battered woman’s syndrome in criminal psychology.
When those women were pushed to the corner and had no other means, they tended to kill the violence with violence. That was the one and only way to get themselves out of the situation. While recalling her past, Wang Ziying had told Qianmo in tears many times that she would rather get rehabilitation in prison than live in fear like a cat in a tree outside.
Be that as it may, whatever the reason was, killing violence with violence was never the method to be advocated. But for Wang Ziying, she simply had no other way out.
“Mom, I am tired…”
“Sweetie, I will cook you chicken legs when I get paid tomorrow.”
Chicken legs… a phrase that represented friendship brought Qianmo back to her senses. She said without hesitation.
“You want to rent the house?”
Three minutes later, the nervous Wang Ziying was sitting on the sofa in the living room with her son. The leather sofa made her a bit uncomfortable, so she asked her son to sit on her legs instead, fearing that the child would stain it.
“Are you renting the wing house?” Seeing that the decoration was luxurious, Wang Ziying had her hopes in the wing house in the yard.
“That is a storage room with no toilet and water, impossible for living,” Qianmo observed her old follower. Apart from being a bit tired, there was nothing weird on her face. She had no wounds or scratches, and apparently, her scumbag ex-husband had not found her yet.
“Then…” Wang Ziying didn’t dare to ask about the price. She wanted to leave at this point since it was entirely out of her budget.
“I’m attending college, and this is a house my father gave to me as a wedding gift. But I am not getting married, and I can’t just leave it alone. Long story short, I can rent it to you at a lower cost.”
“What about 200 yuan per month? You can have the first floor, including the two bedrooms, the kitchen, and the toilet. But keep the bedroom upstairs for me when I return.” Qianmo thought of the price on the commercials of low-range houses. They all seemed to charge this rate.
“What?!! 200?!” Wang Ziying was too surprised to utter a complete sentence.
Seeing her reaction, Qianmo thought that it was too expensive. “Then 150 yuan with water and electricity covered, as well as the property management fees.”
What?! Wang Ziying thought that she might have won a lottery. A wing-room with no furniture would cost 200 yuan a month, and the one single room she rented with Lin Xiang and his mother cost 500 yuan a month. However, this pretty girl offered 200 yuan to her for this entire floor?
No, 150 yuan, with water, electricity, and property management fees.
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