After backstabbing the villain, the system allowed me to enter the book again - Chapter 4

“I want a phone number,” Shen Huaixin paused, then noticed his faint frown—as if he had misunderstood—and quickly added, “Su Zihan’s.”

“…”

Su Zihan blinked. Without hesitation he said, “Mine? The school doesn’t allow phones. Why don’t you ask Qiyi? He has one. As long as you can reach him, you’ll be able to reach me too.”

That seemed reasonable enough. Shen Huaixin turned to Qiyi. His expression carried a trace of helplessness, but at Su Zihan’s urging, he still wrote down a string of digits and handed it over.

“I’m very busy,” he added, just in case.

Shen Huaixin accepted the note, nodded, and thanked them both.

After she left, Su Zihan’s desk mate tugged on his sleeve, whispering in exasperation, “You just gave her Qiyi’s number like that?”

“Hm? What’s wrong with that?” Su Zihan tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled.

“You didn’t notice? Her face turned red when she looked at Qiyi. She even avoided his eyes. Haven’t you heard the rumors that she has a crush on him? Asking you for the number was just a roundabout way. Classic move—‘take a detour to save the nation.’ Now she’s gotten his number smoothly. Do you think she’d have gotten it if she asked him directly?”

Su Zihan was briefly stumped. It did sound reasonable, and a strange feeling welled up inside him—like something that was his was about to be taken away. Still, he put on a brave face.

“Well, that’s fine too. If she likes Qiyi.”

His desk mate shrugged. “As long as you think it’s fine.”

“…”

Meanwhile, Shen Huaixin secretly pulled her phone from the desk drawer. She unfolded the slip Qiyi had given her. Beneath the number was a line of small words:

Nothing to do with Su Zihan. Do not disturb.

For the original host to be held at arm’s length by the boy she liked—what a pitiful fate. But it had nothing to do with Shen Huaixin. She shook her head, saved the number under the contact name Su Zihan’s Liaison, then quickly powered down the phone.

The class bell rang. The Chinese teacher, dressed in a professional suit, walked up to the podium and faced the students.

“Good morning, everyone—”

“Good morning, Teacher—”

With the neat chorus of greetings, class began.

Sunlight spilled through the windows, filtering through lush green branches outside, dappling the classroom in shifting shadows. At one particular moment, the light stilled, and Shen Huaixin’s drowsy ears suddenly caught on a keyword. She snapped her head up, staring at the teacher.

“This year’s arts performance will be your final one in high school. I hope everyone signs up enthusiastically.”

The homeroom teacher timed the words perfectly. As soon as the bell rang, she dismissed them without lingering.

“Class dismissed.”

In a flash, students bolted for the cafeteria to chase the freshest hot meals. Fang Xiaozheng lingered by her desk, waiting for Shen Huaixin to leave together.

Shen Huaixin seemed distracted. After a beat, she finally followed her out.

The school day passed quickly. By 4:30, classes were done. Packing up her bag, Shen Huaixin gazed at the setting sun and felt a strange daze—she hadn’t gone home this early in what felt like forever.

“Xin-jie, where are we hanging out today?”

“Not today,” Shen Huaixin said. “Since my brother’s back, I’ll be going home on time from now—”

【System: Yellow Card Warning!】

“Going home to find some fun,” Shen Huaixin corrected herself with a crooked smile, flashing her friends a meaningful look.

Fang Xiaozheng perked up. “Xin-jie, can I come? Help you out a bit?”

What, help with cooking?

Shen Huaixin shook her head, bemused by her friend’s odd taste in amusement. “Xiaozheng, I’ve got a more important mission for you.”

Seeing her about to explain, Fang Xiaozheng leaned in, curious. Shen Huaixin deliberately lowered her voice, feigning mystery. “I’ll tell you when I’m home.”

Waving them off, she headed toward the family car.

The chauffeur was already waiting, opening the door for her.

Shen Huaixin bent down to climb in—and to her surprise, saw Shen Chumo already sitting in the backseat, like he had come to pick her up from school. Her heart softened. She reached out and pinched his cheek.

So soft, so warm—like kneading dough.

She laughed. “Chumo, were you waiting for me—”

【System: Yellow Card Warning!】

“Mind your own business! Who asked you to come?!” Shen Huaixin yanked harder at his cheek. He gave a muffled grunt of pain, and by the time she released him, both sides of his face were flushed red and slightly swollen.

Feeling a little guilty, she quickly shifted topics. “So, how’s the tutoring? Are you keeping up?”

He pressed his lips together, sulking in silence.

She sighed theatrically. “Heh, with your IQ, not keeping up would be normal. You’ll probably still be babbling like a toddler by the time I graduate.”

Finally, he couldn’t hold it in. “I’ve learned it.”

“Oh? Then I’ll have to test you later.”

Back at the house, Shen Huaixin pulled up the homework. She swiped through her tablet, selected a screenshot, and placed it in front of him.

“Question one: Is this person’s expression pain or happiness?”

The image showed a sunny morning, a girl in a wide-brimmed hat, the wind tipping it askew. She grabbed at the brim, brow arched, lips tugging upward, teeth just barely showing.

“Happiness.”

“Correct. Next—now imitate her expression.”

He stretched his mouth into a stiff grin, eyes squinting.

“…”

She reached over to manually adjust his facial muscles, the whole process feeling uncannily like customizing an avatar in a video game. Eventually she gave up and popped a milk candy into his mouth. His brows instantly curved into a perfect arc.

“Remember this expression,” she warned. “This was the freebie. You won’t be smiling after the next one.”

She slid to the next photo. “Question two: What’s this man’s state of mind? A. Praying; B. Sad; C. Contemplating; D. Daydreaming.”

The image: a man sitting outside an operating room, hands clasped, head slightly bowed. At a glance, his face seemed blank; look closer, and one could feel the weight of wordless gravity.

“C,” Chumo answered. “That’s a typical thinking posture. He must be considering the surgery.”

“Congratulations,” Shen Huaixin sighed. “Wrong. Obviously he’s praying.”

Chumo frowned. “But this isn’t a church or a temple. Why would he pray here? Wrong setting.”

“Hospitals hold the most devout prayers, silly boy.”

He looked thoughtful.

Shen Huaixin raised the difficulty. “How about this one? Analyze.”

“I know! He’s a clown, making silly faces to amuse people.”

She shook her head, patience thinning. “Think again?”

Pointing at the screen, he persisted. “He’s sticking a finger up his nose while grinning. Add in the ridiculous face, I stand by my answer.”

“He’s mentally impaired,” Shen Huaixin explained earnestly. “That face isn’t funny—it’s abnormal.”

“…”

After a string of failures, Chumo grew stubborn. He swiped the tablet himself. Suddenly, a popup ad appeared—a gaudy webpage, flashing letters, garish colors, and front and center: a flushed woman, eyes closed tight.

“Pain,” he declared instantly. “She looks like she’s enduring pain.”

But silence followed. He turned, confused. Shen Huaixin’s cheeks were bright red, her gaze skittering. Stammering, she said,

“Th-that one… we’ll skip.”

Too hard? Even she can’t solve it?

Driven by curiosity, he stared harder, trying to decipher the strange, twisting font. He could only make out two bold characters—□□. They seemed profound, full of hidden meaning, but no matter how he pondered, he couldn’t grasp it.

“I’ll ask the tutor tomorrow,” he offered seriously. “When I get the answer, I’ll tell you.”

“No! Don’t you dare!” Shen Huaixin nearly jumped. “I know the answer. Don’t ask anyone. Don’t tell anyone!”

“…?”

“She’s… getting a massage. She’s holding it in so she won’t make a sound. That’s all.” Shen Huaixin’s explanation was terse, clipped.

He still looked puzzled. “But isn’t massage also painful? Enduring pain?”

“Not the same. She’s enjoying it. You’ll understand when you… go to a parlor someday.”

All she wanted was to drop the topic as fast as possible. Stupid popup ad—almost corrupted the boy. Well, maybe not corrupted. He was still too young, just an embryo in the endless stretch of time, knowing nothing of human feelings. No need to learn just yet.

She snapped the screen shut and set the tablet aside. Composing herself, she summarized solemnly: “In short, human expressions are complex. Smiling through tears, calm while breaking down. Sometimes, to understand, you have to use your heart.”

Chumo nodded, seemingly absorbing her meaning.

“Do you know why I’m testing you like this?” she asked.

“To teach me how to recognize sincerity?”

“That, and to teach you to control your own expressions,” she said coolly. Otherwise you’ll just get bullied. Remembering her role, she added coldly, “If you embarrass the Shen family, even if you’re not officially recognized yet, it’ll be a disgrace.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

“No need to thank me. I just don’t want to lose face,” she snapped back.

Meanwhile, Fang Xiaozheng’s old secondhand phone buzzed.

She rarely used it in public—it had only the most basic functions. Finding a quiet corner on the street, she checked WeChat after making sure no one was around.

It was a mission from Shen Huaixin:

1. 1. Buy eggs, tomatoes, pork belly, potatoes, yogurt, strawberries, and other ingredients. Prepare dinner with both meat and vegetables, plus fruit. Wait for her message before delivering.

Fang Xiaozheng frowned. Why “1”?

She wasn’t much of a cook. Usually, she got by on a bun and some porridge. Her mother worked two jobs and had no time to cook.

She had seen her mother do housework for wealthy employers, always speaking humbly, voice full of tentative flattery. That was when she realized: manual labor paid little, exhausted you, and won you no respect. The only way up was to cling tightly to a rich patroness. A single hair from her thigh was thicker than her own waist.

She thought she’d already figured out Shen Huaixin’s simple likes and dislikes, but today’s demand left her scratching her head.

Tired of delicacies and wants homestyle dishes? But even then, wouldn’t a professional chef be better than me? Or… is this actually for her brother, not worthy of sharing her table?

But taking initiative without permission was more dangerous than making mistakes. After weighing it over, Fang Xiaozheng decided to do exactly as asked and make the best dinner she could.

Even if it ended up fed to the dogs, it had to be prepared with care. She could skim a little off the top, sure—but she knew where the line was. A loyal follower needed self-awareness.

Taking the grocery money Shen Huaixin had sent, she slung her schoolbag on her back and headed to a large supermarket. She tried to follow recipes online, to avoid any major missteps.

“Young girls like you are rare these days,” the cashier, a woman in her forties, chatted as she scanned the items. “Helping your family with shopping—my daughter never does. She’s older than you, but can’t even boil water.”

Expressionless, Fang Xiaozheng sneered inwardly. If I weren’t poor, who’d want to cook for others?

Leaving the supermarket, she calculated the distance home. A shared bike would do—free exercise, quick ride, and she’d be back in ten minutes.