After Backstabbing The Villain, The System Allowed Me To Enter The Book Again - Chapter 32

Dream.

Beatings and curses had long become routine, but tonight they were especially brutal. Every lash from Shen Huaixin’s whip carried hatred, searing across Shen Chumo’s body, twisting the air in the basement with its heat. He remembered that morning, seeing Shen Father and Shen Mother dressed in somber, gray-toned clothes—solemn and mournful, unlike their usual selves. They didn’t spare him a glance. The few looks they did cast his way brimmed with unconcealed loathing.

And yet, Shen Chumo still remembered the warmth that once lived in those eyes when he first arrived. He thought—even if it cost him everything, he would gladly give it up just to see that warmth once more.

“I should thank you. If it weren’t for you, how could he have died?” Shen Huaixin lifted Shen Chumo’s chin with the whip handle, forcing his face upward.

The boy stared back coldly. The heavily made-up girl reflected in his dark pupils looked grotesque, like a mask. The sting of whip marks across his body reminded him with piercing clarity that he was still alive.

“Who?” The hoarse word scraped from his throat.

“Why, the one who competed with me for the inheritance… my dear younger brother, of course.”

It took Shen Chumo minutes to chew over those words, to grasp their meaning. When he finally did, he struggled violently, the chains rattling as wounds split open, bl00d oozing afresh.

“No! I am—!”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Shen Huaixin flinched, startled, then quickly recovered. Watching the whip marks knit back together on his skin, she shook her head in disdain. “A monster, pretending to be human? That humans could give birth to you? Laughable!”

When Shen Chumo awoke from the dream, the shadow of Shen Huaixin still lingered in his eyes. The face was the same, yet so utterly different—and not because of makeup. It came from some deeper, inexplicable feeling. The longer the dreams went on, the harder it became for him to overlap the two.

Looking around, he noticed how many items Shen Huaixin had smuggled into the basement without his noticing. To avoid suspicion, they weren’t fancy, just practical: a gray back cushion, a small heater that could warm hands or grill meat, an unwrapped air freshener. All of it blended seamlessly with the cramped underground room.

Shen Chumo closed his eyes halfway, and all he could see was the Shen Huaixin from tonight. Starlight seemed to have fallen into her black-and-white eyes—clear, bright, untainted. She said her childhood nickname was “Xingxing,” Star. So fitting. Yet he had never once heard anyone in this household call her that.

But he liked it.

He liked having a special name for her, one that only he knew.

And then, with those same starry eyes, she wished him a happy birthday. Something sweeter than honey filled his mouth.

So this was joy. Silent, yet so… soul-stirring.

The next day, mock exam results were posted. Class ranking, school ranking, even citywide ranking—everything neatly tabulated, names boxed and ordered.

The top scorers strutted, boasting loudly enough to be heard across the street. The low scorers slunk away, unwilling to look. Some pretended indifference, joking about their spots at the bottom.

Shen Huaixin stood for a while at the steps, watching the throngs.

【System: Host, aren’t you going to look at the board?】

【Shen Huaixin: My company used to post performance charts every month, ranking from highest to lowest with line graphs. It looked just like this. Back then, everyone fought to stay off the chopping block—including me.】

【System: That’s different. Performance was for bonuses. Here, studying in the small world has no meaning.】

【Shen Huaixin: I study because I want to.】

Back in class, her classmates were buzzing. Some already knew their scores, others fidgeted nervously, waiting for the teacher.

Soon the homeroom teacher entered, heels clicking, a stack of test papers in hand. At her stern expression, the room went silent, guilt flickering across faces.

“This time, our class’s average was three points lower than Class 4’s. Same teachers, same hours. Why…?”

Shen Huaixin turned slightly, catching Fang Xiaozheng—half-asleep—making a goofy face.

“You are the worst class I’ve ever taught.”

The teacher began distributing papers in order of rank.

“First place, Lin Leyao, 131 points. Excellent work, keep this up and a top university is guaranteed.”

Amid envious stares, Lin Leyao tossed her ponytail and strode forward, steady and proud.

“Next, second place…”

Names followed one after another. The top students leaned forward, straining to hear theirs.

“Eleventh place, Shen Huaixin.”

A ripple of shock swept the class. Whispers broke out—Shen Huaixin, the notorious bottom-ranker, now at 11th? She’d leapt 37 places in one go. Incredible.

And in Chinese, no less—a subject considered stable, resistant to drastic swings.

“She must’ve cheated, right?” someone whispered.

“How? You can’t cheat in Chinese. What, you think you could? Pure dumb luck, that’s all.”

The teacher hushed them with a gesture.

“I want to especially commend Shen Huaixin. She’s improved not just in Chinese, but across all subjects. We teachers have noticed how attentive she’s been in class, how she completes homework—even with mistakes, she keeps correcting them. Her progress is proof of hard work and determination. And the rest of you? Stagnating, sliding backward! If Shen Huaixin can jump from last place into the top ranks, leaving many of you far behind, then nothing is impossible. You should all learn from her.”

She gave Shen Huaixin a nod, full of approval.

Standing up, Shen Huaixin felt her heart beating faster than usual—oddly nervous over a mere score. She shook her head at herself. Such little ripples were nothing compared to the storms she had weathered. It was only a belated taste of the education she had once been denied.

“Xin-jie, amazing!” Fang Xiaozheng—her ever-loyal hype woman—clapped enthusiastically.

The teacher smiled and joined in, and soon the classroom filled with applause.

Shen Huaixin glanced around, seeing youthful faces lit with longing, jealousy, or admiration. So real, and yet destined to be swept away when the pollution came.

She stepped forward, receiving her paper. This was the first tangible fruit of her months of study in this book’s world.

The teacher tapped Fang Xiaozheng’s head lightly: “Proximity breeds influence. You should learn from her too.”

Fang Xiaozheng’s swagger deflated instantly, and she scratched her head sheepishly.

Shen Huaixin couldn’t help but smile. More than just grades, she had gained friendship, companionship, moments of shared mischief and laughter. For the first time in years, she felt a spark of life return to her weary, work-hardened heart.

Back at her desk, she flipped through her Chinese exam—her mistakes scattered evenly, no glaring weakness. At the final essay, she thought of Shen Chumo. She had written about a mother’s love: the warmth of sunlight on a quilt, the familiar snack that always awaited her after school. She wondered—what had he written?

The tide of opinion turned. Her classmates began to look at her without their tinted lenses.

“She really seems different lately. First the performance video, now these grades…”

A boy nodded fervently: “Yeah, and she’s looking prettier too. She’s starting to seem like a campus goddess. Untouchable. Am I broken?”

That sparked more murmurs: “If that’s true, maybe the rumor about her and Qi Yi is real.”

The boy flushed, denying it quickly: “Not necessarily! They don’t even hang out that much.”

The others smirked knowingly. “Sounds like you’ve got a crush on her yourself.”

His tanned cheeks reddened further. He said no more.

At lunch, once the crowd dispersed, Shen Huaixin snapped a photo of the results. Fang Xiaozheng puffed her cheeks in admiration.

“Our boss is amazing—just a little effort and you outscored Tianyu! Right, Tianyu?”

Tianyu, the best student among their little mischief crew, usually scored above average. Xiong Chentao lagged a bit behind, sometimes scraping the average.

This time, Xiong’s grades slipped further, though she didn’t care much—her focus was on sports. With her long legs and explosive speed, she was a born sprinter, and once, a reliable brawler.

Tianyu nodded earnestly. “Xin-jie is brilliant. If she’d studied seriously from the start, she could easily be first in the school.”

Shen Huaixin quickly cut them off before they spiraled further. “Enough. How’s your supplies prep? Break’s coming.”

Xiong Chentao grinned. “Of course we followed your instructions. Plus, with all the earthquakes lately, my dad says we should stock up even more, just in case.”

“Earthquakes?” Fang Xiaozheng blinked. “How did I miss that?”

Tianyu explained: “It happened late at night a few days ago. Small tremor, most people didn’t notice. It was even on the news.”

Shen Huaixin’s face darkened. According to the timeline, the outbreak was already counting down. Soon, this world would be in ruins. Nothing could stop it—not even Shen Chumo himself.

The book had made it clear: as long as human malice persisted, the pollution was inevitable. And Shen Chumo would only grow stronger.

“Xin-jie? What’s wrong?” Fang Xiaozheng asked, concerned.

“Nothing.” Shen Huaixin pulled herself back, brushing it off.