After being reborn, I had a bad ending with my first love. - Chapter 8

As soon as Yan Sui put down the milk tea, Yu Shuli hurriedly asked:
“How is it? Do you like it?”

The question sounded odd. Normally, when someone buys milk tea for a friend to try, they’d ask about the taste.
But Yu Shuli specifically asked whether she liked this milk tea.

Ever since last week, from the first time she met Yu Shuli until now, Yan Sui had been noticing more and more strange things about him.

She swallowed her doubts, placed the cup lightly on the desk, and kept her expression calm.
“It’s pretty good. Thank you.”

He seemed disappointed by the lack of the reaction he wanted. His expression froze for a moment, then he quickly covered it up.
“As long as you like it, that’s good. That’s good.”

Yan Sui didn’t miss that fleeting disappointment on his face. It only made her more certain: there was something unusual about Yu Shuli.

With Yan Sui keeping her own secrets, and Yu Shuli apparently regretting something, two out of three people had no mood to enjoy themselves. The little outing quickly dispersed.

At the bus stop, after saying goodbye to Yu Shuli, Yan Sui watched carefully as he boarded his bus. Then her expression abruptly froze.

Tan Shu noticed and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”

Yan Sui quickly drew back her gaze, her brow tightening.
“Nothing. I just… thought of something.”

“What is it?”

She smoothed her brow, walked a few steps faster, and casually hooked her arm around Tan Shu’s.
“Nothing big. Just suddenly remembered I forgot to bring my textbook. I’ll need it for tonight’s homework.”

Tan Shu made a small “ah” sound, half turning back toward the school.
“Want to go get it now?”

“It’s fine. I don’t really need it. And I’m too lazy to go back.” Yan Sui tugged her forward.

Tan Shu hesitated.
“Which book? Do you want me to lend you mine?”

“No need.”

“…Alright then.”

Their homes weren’t far from school — only three bus stops away.

The community they lived in was one of the top upscale complexes in Sucheng City, with schools, hospitals, and shopping centers conveniently nearby. Yan Sui had attended every school from primary through high school within the area.

For now, the apartment hadn’t yet been mortgaged by Yan Zhaoting to cover his company’s losses. She could still enjoy the convenience of living there.
In her last life, after Yan Zhaoting schemed against Sui Yuling and forced a divorce, the house had been seized by the courts. Their family had been forced to move into her maternal grandparents’ old place in the far suburbs, where it took more than an hour to commute to school.

That house had only spared them from being left homeless.

At the fork in the road leading to their separate homes, Yan Sui suddenly hugged Tan Shu.

She pressed her face into Tan Shu’s collarbone, arms tightening firmly around her waist.

Caught off guard by the sudden sentimental hug, Tan Shu froze, her brain blanking.
“What’s wrong?”

Yan Sui released her, stepping back to create distance, but let her hand slide down Tan Shu’s arm, changing the hug into a gentle hold of her fingers.
“Xiao Shu.”

Tan Shu answered softly.

“No matter what you learn, no matter what happens — if something troubles you, promise me you’ll tell me,” Yan Sui whispered, her thumb brushing lightly against the soft skin of Tan Shu’s hand. “Whatever it is, don’t worry about dragging me down. I want to hear it all.”

In truth, it was still some time before Tan Shu would learn from her parents that Yan Zhaoting had cheated. Yan Sui hadn’t planned on letting that matter intrude between them in this life.

But the past few days had been full of changes, so different from before, that she began to worry.

She feared the butterfly effect of her rebirth might also change the course of Yan Zhaoting’s betrayal.

She didn’t want to get caught in the storm again. But she also didn’t want Tan Shu to bear any guilt for her sake.

Tan Shu couldn’t know all that, nor how much Yan Sui had endured. But years of friendship told her that Yan Sui was hiding something.

Still, she didn’t ask. She gave her the space to breathe.

Instead, Tan Shu tightened her grip, her eyes suddenly firm.
“Don’t worry, Sui Sui. Go do what you need to do.”

Yan Sui felt the strength conveyed through Tan Shu’s palm, steady and warm.

She didn’t reply aloud, but the heavy stone that had weighed on her heart for so long finally shifted, at least halfway.

Back in her room, after locking the door, Yan Sui sat down at her desk.

The system appeared at just the right moment, its mechanical voice filling her mind. She spoke quickly:
“You really can’t find out anything about Yu Shuli?”

System: “That’s correct, Host. My permissions only allow me to sense your emotions. Anything beyond that requires accumulated points to access.”

Thinking of the system’s previous talk of “tasks,” Yan Sui felt a headache coming on.
“I’m still looking into Yan Zhaoting’s situation. With my limited ability, I haven’t found anything concrete yet.”

System: “Host, you also have side missions.”

Yan Sui grimaced. She never wanted to mention those so-called “side missions.”

When she signed the contract with the system, they had agreed on one main mission — her request — and two side missions given by the system.

Unlike the usual upgrade-and-battle systems she’d read about in novels, this one was different.

It had no rigid rules, no constant supervision. It gave little help outside of tasks. But she didn’t need to fight monsters or level up endlessly. Once she completed the three agreed-upon missions, the system would disappear, and she could finally live her life freely again.

The main mission had been her own demand, and the system supported her as best it could.

The side missions, though, were assigned by the system, and she had to complete them too — or face backlash.

Yan Sui rubbed her temples.
“I know. But things are already slipping beyond my control.”

Her original plan had been simple: refuse to join the choir, and her connection with Yu Shuli would break naturally. Without their ill-fated tie, he would soon meet his so-called ‘true match,’ just as the system had said.

That would mean her mission was done.

As for the other side mission — it wasn’t time for that yet, so she wasn’t worried.

But now, Yu Shuli kept showing up, completely disrupting her plans.

“I need to know what’s happening with Yu Shuli. Why is he behaving so differently from last time? Without that answer, my mission gets a lot harder.”

System: “Host, just overcome the difficulty.”

Yan Sui was speechless.
“Don’t tell me this is your doing — that you tampered with his timeline to make things harder for me?”

The system fell silent.

Yan Sui’s heart sank. If the system had indeed altered Yu Shuli’s path, she would have to split her attention between him and Yan Zhaoting — leaving gaps she couldn’t afford.

Frustration welled up.

Just as she was ready to give up on getting an answer, the system’s voice returned.
“Host, I am always on your side.”

Yan Sui said nothing.

“I did not interfere with Yu Shuli’s story. As for why he’s acting differently, I truly don’t know. Once you’ve earned enough points from missions, I might be able to expand my permissions and find answers for you. But for now — please believe me. Everything I do is for you, my host.”

Her feelings tangled. For a moment, she thought she heard something almost human beneath its cold, mechanical tone.

She and the system had a mutual-benefit relationship. She completed tasks, and it gave her rebirth.

Even if it had made her missions harder, she couldn’t complain. She had no choice.

The contract had never forbidden it.

“…I understand. I’ll believe you.”

For now, she chose to trust it.

After all, it was the one who gave her this second chance.

“Given how things stand, our original plan won’t work anymore,” she said.

The system was quiet for a moment, then suggested:
“Perhaps you can find clues in Yu Shuli’s personality. In your previous life, did you know him before the choir?”