SBCEJM -Chapter 22 Spending His Wife’s Money While Watching Her Mourning Across the Street!

Across the street?

Just separated by a long stone-paved road?

That mansion she could see every single day whenever she opened her window—but had never paid attention to?

She had grieved herself to the bone for him, remained chaste for him for ten years, burned away the prime of her youth for him.

And he…

He had been living right across from her the whole time, watching her tragedy like it was some kind of play—for an entire decade?!

【N-No way…!】

Feng Zexuan was completely dumbfounded by this absurd twist.

【Isn’t this way too risky?! What if one day he accidentally stepped out to dump trash or something and ran straight into his wife and kid? That’d be an epic, world-class social death scene!】

The system replied in a light tone that practically screamed “you’re so naive.”

【Which is why, for the past ten years, he has never once stepped outside that mansion’s gates.】

【Food, clothing, daily necessities—everything was handled by a personal servant. He lived like a purebred parasite: clothes handed to him, meals fed to him, doing absolutely nothing.】

Feng Zexuan fell silent.

Damn.

Why was she suddenly a little jealous?

She suddenly remembered a book she had read in her previous life, The Moon and Sixpence.

The male protagonist there had also abandoned his wife and children to pursue some illusory artistic dream.

That book had once cured her of her romantic delusions.

It made her realize that in the mental framework of certain male creatures, women and family were sometimes insignificant—obstacles on their path to becoming “great.”

As long as they abandoned morality, the entire world would make way for them.

【This Xiao Lin… don’t tell me he’s been hiding away creating some earth-shattering masterpiece that’ll go down in history?】

Feng Zexuan asked with the last shred of ridiculous hope.

【Bullshit!】

The system spat the word out mercilessly.

【He’s just a useless coward hiding from reality and avoiding responsibility! In ten years, the only accomplishment he achieved was turning himself into a plump, pampered freeloader!】

Feng Zexuan’s lips flattened completely as another fatal question surfaced.

【Wait a second! Where did he get the money?】

【How much private savings could a live-in son-in-law possibly have? Enough to support this kind of isolated lifestyle for ten whole years?】

【Now that’s the right question!】

The system gave an approving ding.

【He has an accomplice inside the Qi household.】

【It’s Old Steward Fu—the longtime house steward who practically raised Qi Yanran and whom she trusted like family.】

【Xiao Lin holds evidence of Steward Fu embezzling household funds years ago. Fu Bo doesn’t dare disobey him, so every month he secretly diverts five hundred taels from the Qi family accounts and delivers it across the street to support the “dead” husband.】

【Holy crap!】

Feng Zexuan cursed inwardly.

【What kind of peak phoenix-man operation is this?!】

【He refuses to fulfill his responsibilities as a husband and father, yet shamelessly lives like a parasite sucking blood from his wife!】

【Using his wife’s money, living in the mansion opposite hers, opening the window every day to watch her mourn him—and meanwhile fattening himself up nice and healthy?!】

【This guy isn’t just trash anymore. He’s trash, stupid, and evil!】

Feng Zexuan no longer knew what expression to use for this scandal.

【Qi Yanran is such a sharp and capable businesswoman. She never noticed five hundred taels disappearing every month?】

【Host, do you have some misunderstanding about the wealth of the capital’s richest woman?】

【Five hundred taels might only be the price of the ruby-inlaid golden butterfly hairpin on her head.】

【She manages countless affairs daily. The estate accounts flow endlessly like a river. Add in her most trusted steward deliberately smoothing out the books…】

【That money was like a drop of ink falling into the ocean. It couldn’t make the slightest ripple.】

Feng Zexuan: ……

But the flames of righteous fury had already ignited inside her, burning away even her detached enjoyment of gossip.

【No! If I don’t expose this scumbag, my conscience won’t let me sleep!】

She hated useless men who treated other people’s devotion like dirt.

【This matter… I’m definitely getting involved!】

She pushed the wheelchair, smoothly turning toward Qi Yanran.

At this moment, Qi Yanran had already suppressed every surging emotion deep into the bottom of her eyes. Those beautiful eyes now resembled nothing but a frozen sea of deathly stillness.

Feng Zexuan stopped before her and bowed slightly, speaking in Feng Zekai’s clear young male voice with perfectly measured concern and hesitation.

“Madam Qi, my name is Feng Zekai.”

“Earlier, near the street corner, I happened to glimpse a man walking in haste. His temperament, however… carried an indescribable air of decay. He bore some resemblance to the portrait used in the reward notices for your missing husband.”

“Though there seemed to be more traces of hardship between his brows.”

She paused, as though carefully considering her words.

“He disappeared into that mansion in an instant, so I paid it no mind at the time.”

“But after hearing your story just now, I suddenly remembered… that mansion happens to stand directly opposite your residence.”

“Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“But this matter is too important. After thinking it over, I felt I should still inform you.”

“What if… what if it really is your long-missing husband?”

Her words were flawless, giving Qi Yanran the perfect opening.

“How… how could that be…”

Qi Yanran looked as though she had suffered a devastating blow. She covered her mouth tightly with a handkerchief, her body trembling faintly.

When she looked up, her eyes were bloodshot, yet filled with resolute gratitude.

“Thank you, Scholar Feng, for informing me! I… I’ll go see for myself immediately!”

Feng Zexuan nodded slightly, her tone casual.

“My ‘younger sister’ and I happen to be free. Why not accompany you there?”

“If it turns out to be a misunderstanding, we can at least serve as witnesses and avoid further trouble.”

“Good.”

Qi Yanran answered with only a single word.

She did not question him.

She did not doubt him.

She did not ask for proof.

She simply turned around and began walking toward her residence.

Her back was straight as a drawn sword.

Every step felt as though she were walking on knife blades, carrying a murderous determination to crush everything in her path.

Feng Zexuan pushed the wheelchair and followed behind at an unhurried pace.

An extraordinary sight unfolded on the capital’s busiest street.

The richest woman in the capital led the way in front, followed by the newly crowned third-place scholar and his “frail younger sister.”

Further behind, a group of richly dressed noblewomen trailed after them silently like puppets pulled by invisible strings.

This most luxurious gossip-viewing entourage in history maintained a suffocating silence in perfect unspoken understanding.

Together, they transformed the bustling avenue into a funeral procession steeped in killing intent.

They crossed two streets.

At the end stood the grand crimson gates of the Qi residence, shining magnificently beneath the sunlight, imposing and glorious.

And directly opposite it, separated only by a broad stone road, stood that quiet two-courtyard residence of white walls and gray tiles.

Its doors and windows were tightly shut. Moss crept across the corners like a forgotten grave abandoned by prosperity itself.

On one side stood the empire of glory she had built with ten years of blood, tears, and youth.

On the other stood the shameless cage hiding his decade-long lie.

Heaven and hell, divided by a single street.

Qi Yanran stopped walking.

She stared fixedly at the tightly closed gates, her chest rising violently as though she wanted to crush ten years of grievance, longing, sorrow, rage, and hatred into dust within her body.

A long while later—

She slowly turned her head. Her voice was calm in a way that inspired terror.

Toward the head guard of the Qi residence—who had already noticed the commotion and was peeking over curiously—she uttered several words.

“Wang Da. Bring some men over here.”

“Madam?”

The guard captain named Wang Da jogged over, confusion written all over his face.

Qi Yanran did not look at him.

She merely lifted one slender hand and pointed directly at the deathly silent residence across the street.

Enunciating every word coldly, without a trace of warmth, she ordered—

“Break it open.”