After Bringing Joy to the Short-Lived Mad Young Lady - Chapter 3

The hallway was quiet, filled with a faint floral fragrance.

It was the same scent Fang Yi had noticed on Lin Shuxing earlier—a scent reminiscent of summer flowers in full bloom, decadent to the point of intoxication. Getting too close to it could even induce a slight dizziness.

Fang Yi stood outside Lin Shuxing’s door, her hand hesitating between knocking and withdrawing.

What should she say? Another casual “Hi”?

Should she go take a shower and disinfect first?

But this had never been an issue during their previous meetings.

Fang Yi stood silently, catching the faint sound of running water from the slightly ajar door.

Host, I feel like some things are just fate.

The system blinked, suddenly turning philosophical: Look, fate brings people together. Your first meeting was pure coincidence, but even if Little Star hadn’t made a wish, you two would’ve been bound together anyway.

Little Star?

Fang Yi inexplicably felt her mood lift. She had always suspected the girl would have a lovely nickname—more elegant than “Little Black,” more vibrant than “Little White.” “Little Star” fit her perfectly.

The system sighed internally, realizing that with Fang Yi’s aesthetic sense and boundless affection, she’d probably even praise names like “Little Cow” or “Little Horse” as full of vitality.

It muttered under its breath, deliberately teasing: And now you’re not afraid of getting swept up in the so-called plot, of being pushed along? Not afraid of the mission dictating your will?

“I’m a variable, and so is she.”

Fang Yi pressed two fingers together. “Ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

“If I’ve come to this world, it’s to change something—as long as I want to.”

“The butterfly effect means I can effortlessly change the entire world!”

Fang Yi spoke with conviction, her tone brimming with boldness. The system nodded reflexively before voicing its concern: But if she never makes a wish, you’ll still have to grind for those slave-level points. That’s rough.

Creating a “life” initially cost 500 points. Unfortunately, Fang Yi had to “be born” three times before stubbornly clinging to this world, starting off with a debt of 1,500.

She had a theory: the so-called “Main God” probably didn’t like free spirits like them. It preferred stuffing souls into predefined roles, shackling them with rules to keep them from going rogue.

Lin Shuxing was her primary charge, but for some reason, she rarely made wishes.

Perhaps, long ago, she had been able to voice her desires to the world normally—but that must have been many years in the past.

Fang Yi had once suffered a high fever as a child. When she woke up, she’d forgotten many things. The system had also been sluggish, taking a long time to reconcile the accounts: a debt of 1,500, with over 500 already repaid.

What kind of wishes had those points corresponded to?

They had no way of knowing.

Over the years, they’d scraped together a few more points here and there. The current tally stood at -803.

With the main mission slot empty and no steady source of income, the system occasionally refreshed with forced tasks—low rewards, high risk, failure meaning erasure.

“There’s a win-win solution,” Fang Yi mused after a moment. “If Lin Shuxing wishes to survive—if she just makes that wish—I can definitely make it happen.”

“That way, I get points, and she gets saved.”

There were still four years until the curse of her 22nd birthday. Four years was enough to change many things.

But Lin Shuxing didn’t ask this world for anything.

Why was that?

Had her past wishes gone unanswered?

Fang Yi’s mind flashed to Lin Lan’s face, and she couldn’t help but feel that the Lin family’s atmosphere was… strange.

Just like this long corridor, everything is in perfect order—the symmetrical porch design, the meticulously arranged exhibits—as if wound up with a predetermined key, everyone turning with a steady click-clack.

Eerily quiet.

The sound of running water from the inner room continued unabated. Fang Yi touched her nose and suddenly remembered that the little bear was still with Lin Qingwan.

It had been a gift from Lin Shuxing. For it to appear abruptly in Lin Qingwan’s hands—it was only natural she’d be upset.

Their birthdays fell on the same day. It was at Lin Qingwan’s recent eighteenth birthday celebration that her identity had been officially announced.

Though Lin Qingwan was introduced as the “younger sister,” anyone with eyes could see that Lin Lan favored this newly revealed daughter more.

Rumor had it that Lin Qingwan bore a striking resemblance to Lin Lan’s long-departed white moonlight, Wen Qianxue. No wonder she was favored, not to mention this bl00d-related daughter had been lost for years, enduring many hardships.

Fang Yi’s fingers unconsciously traced the zipper before belatedly shifting her focus to a corner of her mind: Lin Shuxing’s birthday had already passed.

“I seem to be late. She gave me a lucky star, but I haven’t given her a gift yet.”

She opened the system’s shopping mall—birthday gifts panel. The system took one look at the prices and panicked, covering the panel with its virtual hands: Beware of impulsive spending! Points are so precious! Let’s just spend money instead—order a kangaroo delivery. What do you want to buy?

It blinked, attempting to offer its wooden host some suggestions: A beautiful bouquet? A plush toy? A candlelit dinner~

“No. She’s richer than me—what luxury hasn’t she seen? Lucky stars are one-of-a-kind.”

Fang Yi spun around, a smile curling her lips. “I know—how about a wishing bottle?”

Though phrased as a question, there was no room for negotiation. Before the system could even bounce in protest, she had already decisively navigated the mall and selected a glowing pale-blue wishing bottle filled with a few stars.

Order, confirm, payment—all in one swift motion.

The wishing bottle cost ten points. Writing a wish and placing it inside would trigger a linkage with the mission panel.

In short, Fang Yi wanted to coax Lin Shuxing into making a wish, thereby feeding the wish system in return.

Her point income was relatively stable now. Aside from the occasional random refresh of the Love-Struck Substitute Big Lawyer romance mission, simply acting as the head cheerleader for the Wannabe-Liked D-List Little Fox—praising her daily—earned her an easy, happy point.

Like a daily quest, a guaranteed minimum.

The wishing bottle was exquisite, as if crafted from glazed glass, its body semi-transparent with faint starlight shimmering within.

It was far too beautiful for something bought with just ten points.

The system circled it, unable to resist admiring it, suppressing its stinginess to be generous for once, its eyes turning starry: So romantic! Host, you’re becoming more and more human-like!

Fang Yi: “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Cradling the wishing bottle, she cleared her throat, ready to coax a child.

But as time trickled away, it couldn’t keep up with the relentless sound of running water inside.

Does a shower really take this long?

Fang Yi’s brow twitched. Hesitantly, she knocked on the door. “Hey?”

System: …

System: Spoke too soon. You’re more of a system than I am.

“Lin Shuxing, are you in there?”

“Can I come in?”

No response.

Threads of steam seeped through the gaps, weaving into her nostrils, diluting the room’s lingering fragrance.

Fang Yi recalled Lin Shuxing’s pale face before she left, and her heart gave a sudden jolt. Without another thought, she pushed open the door and rushed toward the sound of running water.

“Lin Shuxing!”

The room was dim, the deep blue curtains blocking out the sunlight, casting rippling water-like reflections on the pure white walls.

Only the bathroom was illuminated, its warm yellow glow spreading outward. A delicate white porcelain boat floated on the tiled floor.

Lin Shuxing’s bathroom was large—so large that Fang Yi couldn’t spot her at first glance—yet it also felt small, as if she could only curl up in a corner.

“Lin Shuxing—”

Finally catching sight of that small figure, Fang Yi softened her voice and approached slowly, her steps sending ripples through the water.

She saw the girl half-submerged in the bathtub, arms wrapped around herself, the showerhead still raining down like a gathering storm, all its fury directed at her.

Fang Yi called again, “Lin Shuxing.”

Her senses seemed dulled by the curtain of water. The drenched girl took a long moment before lifting her head, wet strands clinging to her cheeks, indistinguishable whether they were droplets or tears.

The moment she looked up, a glint flickered in her eyes, edged with something sharp—something like killing intent—but it was quickly veiled by the faint flush at the corners of her eyes. The tear mole at the edge trembled slightly.

“Get out! Who said you could come in?”

The girl’s voice was hoarse but still haughty.

“I’m sorry,” Fang Yi raised her hands. “I meant no harm. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Spare me your fake concern. Go find Lin Qingwan. Everyone likes her anyway—you even gave her my bear. I hate you!”

“Why come looking for me now? Didn’t you call off the engagement? Or did Madam Lin offer you something to change your mind?”

“Go on, tell me—how much did she pay you? I’ll double it. Just disappear!”

Lin Shuxing’s lips were bitten raw, the crimson standing stark against her fragile face like streaks of bl00d.

Fang Yi casually hung her bag on the door, tied her hair up high, then stepped forward, enduring the water Lin Shuxing splashed at her, and clumsily pulled her into an embrace.

Her movements were like trying to contain a fire—rough, unyielding—but this fire was a cold flame, chilling to the touch, as if she were holding a block of ice.

The only warmth on the girl came from her tears, falling onto Fang Yi’s shoulder, seeping into her clothes, burning like tiny embers.

She struggled fiercely, thrashing, blazing with defiance, unwilling to be extinguished. Baring her teeth, she sank them into Fang Yi’s shoulder, trying to tame this unreasonable intruder with pain.

Threads of bl00d bloomed on the white fabric, the bitten side trembling slightly from the physical ache.

But Fang Yi only patted Lin Shuxing’s back and whispered,

“You must have suffered so much.”

Her unrefined palm moved gently along the girl’s quivering spine, where the rise and fall of her shoulder blades betrayed a final struggle before breaking free, brimming with resentment and unease.

Lin Shuxing finally stilled, her gaze lingering on the smear of red staining Fang Yi’s pale shoulder. She looked up, dazed.

Fang Yi didn’t flinch, calmly embracing the storm of emotions pouring out of her.

The shower drenched them both, melting them together, binding them after the violent collision of their heartbeats.

Fang Yi explained softly,

“I didn’t give the bear to Lin Qingwan. I only lent it to her. I’ll get it back right away.”

“I wanted to cancel the engagement because I didn’t know it was you. I don’t like being tied down, nor do I want to climb above my station.”

Because I didn’t know it was you.

Warm, erratic breaths brushed against the side of her neck, and Lin Shuxing’s silent tears finally made a sound—soft, kitten-like whimpers.

Her words were muffled, but just barely discernible: “I hate you!”

Fang Yi replied, “I know. I really am hateful.”

Lin Shuxing choked up, lifting her head to glare at her. A glimmer of light pierced through her gloomy gaze as she demanded fiercely, “What exactly is so hateful about you?”

Self-criticism wasn’t Fang Yi’s strong suit. She tried to avert her eyes and change the subject, but Lin Shuxing cupped her face, forcing her to answer. “Say it!”

After much deliberation, Fang Yi reluctantly squeezed out a response: “I’m hateful in the conference room.”

Conference rooms were awful—always filled with pompous nonsense, a waste of time, yet unavoidable.

“…”

Lin Shuxing blinked, her chin tilting slightly as a faint blush rose to her cheeks. She asked, somewhat awkwardly, “Then… do you hate being in the bathroom?”

“No, but staying too long will give you a cold.” Fang Yi handed the wishing bottle to Lin Shuxing, then scooped her up—limp and pliant—and carried her out.

The system was stunned, not daring to speak. It couldn’t help but feel that at least two of the three of them had malfunctioning language modules. They were talking past each other—how else could their conversation be so completely misaligned?

The wishing bottle, soaked in water, had turned translucent, the stars inside emitting a faint glow, like fireflies on a summer night.

“What’s this?”

“Exactly what it looks like—a wishing bottle. Write your wish on a slip of paper, fold it into a star, and put it inside. Then it’ll come true.”

Fang Yi wrapped Lin Shuxing snugly in a thick towel, meticulously drying her off.

Lin Shuxing held the bottle tightly against her chest, letting out a soft, dismissive hum. “So childish. Only kids believe in this stuff.”

Fang Yi’s hands, resting on her waist, paused. She leaned in closer, her earnest eyes magnifying infinitely before Lin Shuxing.

“It will come true. Have a little more faith in the stars—”

Her tone was solemn, the words carrying a double meaning, almost like a vow.

Lin Shuxing’s ears flushed crimson, and she immediately pushed Fang Yi away—forgetting they had just stepped out of the bathroom, their bodies still damp.

Her hands landed somewhere they shouldn’t have. Soft. Lin Shuxing’s entire face visibly reddened. “Why did you get so close?!”

Fang Yi stiffened, unsure how to navigate the girl’s rapidly shifting moods. Still, she had to ask:

“Then… can you let go now?”