After Backstabbing The Villain, The System Allowed Me To Enter The Book Again - Chapter 29

Shen Chumo pulled back his hand, his voice a little colder.
“She wouldn’t bully someone just because she can.”

Su Zihan was speechless, rolling her eyes inwardly for the second time.
He hadn’t even let her finish before rushing to defend Shen Huaixin. The way she had trained this dog was truly remarkable.

“I only told you this in secret because I was worried you were being kept in the dark, afraid she might deceive you,” Su Zihan said softly. “Do you really know what she truly thinks of you? Do you know how she sees you?”

“……”

That struck home. Shen Chumo fell silent.

The truth was—he didn’t know.

Shen Huaixin’s heart was locked too tightly. She was like someone standing outside a window, watching everyone inside the house. She would occasionally exchange a few words with the people within, as though participating, but she always remained apart—ready to turn away at any time.

She seldom bought things for herself, yet spent generously on others. She stockpiled supplies day after day, yet always left her own share out. All of this made Shen Chumo more and more uneasy. He knew it was nonsense, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was like sand slipping through his fingers—impossible to hold on to.

How did she see him?
Why was she so different from the girl in his dreams?
Why was she so full of contradictions, inside and out?

“…Do you know?” Shen Chumo finally looked her in the eye, his tone almost pleading. “Please tell me.”

Seeing him at last show the attitude of someone asking for help, Su Zihan felt a flicker of triumph, even relief. Her gloom lifted at once. Tilting her chin toward the stage screen, she said,

“See for yourself.”

She pressed a button. A video flickered onto the broad projector screen before them.

The scene was inside their school. Every detail was magnified: the grass, the trees, and most clearly of all—the pretty face of the girl on the other side.

The footage began with her standing and facing the camera head-on, as though confronting it. The angle was a little low, the shot a touch unsteady.

The unseen camerawoman spoke first:
“You’re doing all this for Shen Chumo—why? Do you like him? What about Qi Yi?”

“I want them both.”

…

“So you’re just playing with Shen Chumo, then?”

“He doesn’t even deserve that. He’s just a dog I can summon or dismiss at will.”

“Shen Huaixin, you’re truly cold-blooded.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

The clipped dialogue ended quickly, the video cut and polished. When the screen went dark, the entire hall fell into silence with it.

Now came the climax.

Su Zihan curled her lips, watching closely for Shen Chumo’s reaction. In her imagination, she’d pictured it many times: the breakdown, the fury, the despair… inevitably, it would end with a bitter rupture between him and Shen Huaixin. How could he not? Once the cruel truth was laid bare, no one could possibly endure it.

Hadn’t Shen Huaixin boasted about holding an unforgettable birthday party? Fine, Su Zihan would grant her wish.

How did it feel to be bitten by the dog you yourself had raised? To dream of “having it all,” yet in reality end up with nothing?

And yet—no matter how keenly Su Zihan studied him, she found nothing. His face showed no flicker, not even the blink of an eyelid.

Su Zihan knew that when people’s hearts collapsed, they sometimes behaved as though nothing had happened—calmly going through the motions, their minds utterly blank. Clearly, Shen Chumo had reached this state.

It was understandable, she thought. Not many girls declared so shamelessly their intention to ride two boats at once. Though she disliked this weirdo, she still offered a gentle word of comfort:

“Don’t be sad. There are plenty of fish in the sea. I’m sure you’ll meet someone better than Shen Huaixin.”

“That’s it?” Shen Chumo waited, but when the screen remained black, a faint hope still lingered in his voice. He turned to her. “Is there more?”

“…What?” Su Zihan froze, thrown completely off-balance.

Wait—was this guy serious? Was he really this much of a simp?

“You… did you not hear what she said? She called you a dog!”

“She’s said it before.”

What, was this some new kink? Master-and-dog roleplay?

“She said she wants both!”

“So, it means that in her heart, besides Qi Yi, I actually hold a place too.” Shen Chumo looked thoughtful.

Wait. That was the takeaway?

Su Zihan suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to run far away from these lunatics, lest her own standards get dragged down too.

It was like punching into cotton—no resistance, no result. The atmosphere in the hall hung heavy. Every scheme she’d prepared had become utterly useless, collapsing before her eyes. Grinding her teeth, she glared at him in frustration.

“You’re a complete freak.”

With that, she stamped her foot hard, spun on her heel, and stormed backstage. Snatching off her mask, she flung it to the floor like a vent for her fury. Beneath the mask was a carefully made-up, delicate face, but twisted with spite, it looked nothing like her usual self.

Her gaze turned cold as it landed on the star projector.
Fine then. If that’s how it was going to be—she’d ruin everything.

Meanwhile, Shen Huaixin sat in the adjoining room, legs swinging idly. She had no idea whether Su Zihan had followed her instructions—waiting for Shen Chumo to close his eyes and make a wish, then secretly switching on the starry sky projector so that, when he opened them, he would see a canopy of stars as though his dream had come true. Or perhaps she’d come up with something even more romantic.

Either way, it didn’t matter. As long as he felt surprise and wonder, the goal would be achieved. She knew his future was destined to be a long, lonely night. She didn’t believe in permanence, but even a fleeting moment of beauty was worth leaving behind.

【Shen Huaixin: So if all goes well, the deviation value should reset to zero now, right?】

【System: After the deviation value is cleared, you cannot leave immediately. You must remain until the pollution outbreak, then log off according to the original timeline.】

【Shen Huaixin: Got it. When I return home, will it be the same point in time I left?】

【System: The time ratio between the two worlds is 10:1. If you spend three months here, you’ll return to nine days later in your original timeline.】

Shen Huaixin froze, a strange thought stirring.

So… the two worlds’ timelines actually aligned? It didn’t feel like a novel anymore—it felt like… another real dimension.

Before she could think deeper, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Shen Chumo.

Shen Chumo: Where are you?

So soon? Did Su Zihan really just leave after refusing the cake?

Hurrying to the hall, Shen Huaixin paused at the door instead of going straight in. She pressed close to the crack, peeking inside.

Su Zihan was gone—expected. But the red carpet was littered with the collapsed cake, Chumo’s clothes were smeared with cream, and the starry projection that should have lit the ceiling was absent. None of it had gone as planned.

Her stomach tightened. Of course—no wonder she hadn’t heard the system notify her of any deviation drop.

She phoned the driver: no, he hadn’t seen Su Zihan. A quick word with the staff revealed she had left on her own.

An uneasy feeling gnawed at her. Could her own interference have triggered some butterfly effect? Had something happened in Su Zihan’s family? Was she unwell? Maybe she’d collapsed while pushing the cake?

For Su Zihan, who always kept her word, to leave early without a word—at night, no phone on her, walking alone… it didn’t sit right.

Shen Huaixin messaged Qi Yi, asking him to check on her and send back word if she was safe.

Then she refocused on the mess at hand.

First: the birthday cake was ruined. That meant the party had likely never even started. It could be remade, though it wouldn’t be as exquisite as the custom one. The birthday song could wait for the replacement. As for the star projector—she ran backstage to see if Su Zihan had at least turned it on.

“…Huh?”

The power light was dead.

She didn’t know much about electronics, so she called the staff over. They examined it and said it seemed water-damaged, shorted out. Even the batteries were ruined.

“Try drying it out, then switch batteries?” she urged.

“This model isn’t in stock here, but we’ll send someone to buy replacements right away.”

Shen Huaixin sat down heavily, gazing up at the empty ceiling. A wave of dejection swept over her. Days of careful planning, and the birthday party was a disaster. The heroine had stormed off, the star projector broken. She had ruined everything.

Maybe she should just call it off. Even if she salvaged it somehow, the one meant to sing to him was gone. And she herself, bound by her role, couldn’t step onstage. At best, the staff could sing to him—but that wasn’t the same. Their voices wouldn’t carry sincerity, only duty.

This party was over.

She pulled out her phone, about to type a message to end things, when a notification blinked.

Shen Chumo: Thank you for bringing me here. It’s beautiful.

But this time, the message had gone not to her, but to her alt account—“Han.” He must have been delighted to see her in person. Even if she hadn’t stayed till the end.

Were they chatting well now, just like the book described? Was he already being warmed by her presence?

She lowered her lashes, fingers trembling as she typed. She began writing: It’s late. Time to head home. But after pausing a while, she erased it all.

“Miss Shen, here are several cakes ready-made. We can have one on the table in ten minutes. Please choose.” The staff handed her a tablet.

The words Forget it rose to her lips, but she swallowed them, a bitter taste lingering.

Few knew this, but Du Mingxing rarely celebrated her birthday. Her younger brother’s day fell close to hers, so they always combined it, sharing one cake. Though it was supposed to be their day, she never truly felt like the star.

This was Shen Chumo’s only birthday party. He had never had one before, and never would again.

“…This one,” she heard herself say.

Once she had decided, the despair eased a little. She tilted her head, fingers on her chin, running through backup plans. Out of the corner of her eye, something in the backstage shadows caught her attention.

A battered, misshapen object lying abandoned.