After the Soul Swap Between Love Rival AO - Chapter 26

Cheng Luanxin flushed. “I’m not a cat or a dog!”

Song Qiuchi: “Neither am I.”

Cheng Luanxin argued, “I was just joking! But you actually went and did it!”

Song Qiuchi frowned. “Don’t make me sound like some creep.”

Cheng Luanxin: “Aren’t you? What normal person would do something so suggestive…”

Song Qiuchi didn’t want to argue further and stood up briskly. “Alright, get up. Du Zhiruo and the others are waiting.”

Cheng Luanxin reluctantly held out her hand. “I’m scared to move. Help me up.”

Song Qiuchi countered, “What normal person would do something so suggestive?”

Cheng Luanxin’s almond eyes widened as she glared at Song Qiuchi for a long moment. Seeing that she really had no intention of helping, she had no choice but to push herself up from the ground.

Song Qiuchi watched her. “See if you can walk.”

Cheng Luanxin glanced at her and tentatively tested her foot on the ground. After a few steps, she confirmed the cramp was gone and grinned. “Song Qiuchi, it’s better!”

“Then let’s go down.”

The two navigated a spiraling stretch of cloud ladder and soon caught up with Du Zhiruo and the three photographers.

The cloud ladder was steep, with no extra stone slabs around. The four of them sat in the middle of the ladder, lined up vertically, looking rather pitiful.

Du Zhiruo was the first to stand up from the stone steps. “You’re back?”

The live chat had been waiting anxiously:

Finally back! First time seeing a streamer disappear mid-live broadcast.

So what were Qiu Chi and Luan Xin really up to? I’m dying to know!!

Don’t ask. If you ask, it’s doing it.

Cheng Luanxin scratched her head sheepishly. “Sorry for keeping everyone waiting. I promise I won’t leave your sight again from now on. Shall we get going?”

Du Zhiruo nodded. “Let’s go. Once we reach the valley, we’ll take plenty of photos and post some fan rewards on Weibo.”

The rest of the journey went smoothly, and twenty minutes later, the three of them reached the valley floor.

It had been over an hour since they started the climb. For the three of them, who rarely exercised, exhaustion had already set in. They spread out the moisture-proof picnic cloth they’d bought along the banks of Wanxi Stream, set down a water bottle and a few packs of compressed biscuits, and took a few lackluster photos of their makeshift picnic before each leaning against a tree to start editing the pictures.

The cameraman, finding the atmosphere too quiet, couldn’t help but suggest, “Ladies, maybe we could chat while editing?”

Cheng Luanxin didn’t even look up. “You don’t get it. When girls are editing photos, they’re completely focused. No energy left for small talk.”

The cameraman had nothing to say to that and shut his mouth.

Live chat:

Hahahaha Qiu Chi is so real

+1, no time for chatting while editing

Other teams are hustling for rose tokens, but these three are just chilling with their silent film

Rose ×1

After posting the fan rewards on Weibo, the trio rallied and set off for their next check-in spot: Xushan Temple.

Located halfway up Xufeng, Xushan Temple was a famous thousand-year-old monastery in the Mengshan Scenic Area. It was said that prayers and divinations there were particularly effective.

Even before entering the temple gates, the heavy scent of incense filled the air.

Cheng Luanxin exclaimed, “Wow, I love this smell. Is it sandalwood? Feels so calming.”

Song Qiuchi gave her a faint glance but said nothing.

Standing in the middle of the courtyard, Du Zhiruo looked around. “Who are all these halls dedicated to?”

Cheng Luanxin shrugged. “No idea. Since we’re here, might as well pay our respects to each?”

With that, she started toward the main hall.

Song Qiuchi grabbed her arm. “Think carefully. If your wish comes true, you’ll have to come back to fulfill your vow. Are you willing to climb this mountain again for that?”

Cheng Luanxin’s legs went weak. “No, no. I’ll just admire it from the doorway.”

She seemed afraid the Buddha statues might see her, not daring to get any closer.

Du Zhiruo laughed. “Then I’ll go in and pray—for my mom’s health.”

As Du Zhiruo entered the main hall, Song Qiuchi quietly approached Cheng Luanxin and whispered, “Wait here for me. I’ll go ask if there are any rituals we can participate in today. Might help.”

Cheng Luanxin’s eyes lit up. “Really? I’ll come with you!”

Song Qiuchi: “I’ll go ask myself. Going together would seem too deliberate. If Du Zhiruo comes out later and no one’s here, that wouldn’t be good either.”

Cheng Luanxin’s tone turned slightly sour: “You always act so cold and indifferent, yet you’re clearly worried sick about Zhiruo.”

Song Qiuchi couldn’t be bothered to argue: “I’m leaving. Find somewhere to rest if you want.”

Naturally, Cheng Luanxin couldn’t stay idle. She wandered aimlessly around the temple and noticed a wishing wall on the west side of the main hall, covered with red wishing plaques.

A few visitors were queuing to receive plaques from the monks, carefully writing down their wishes.

Watching them, Cheng Luanxin grew envious again. She turned to the camera: “Do you have to come back to fulfill the wish if you make one here? But I really want to write one too. Can’t I just write something that absolutely won’t come true?”

Comments flooded in:

LOL, first time seeing someone who doesn’t want their wish to come true

Qiuchi, let’s not trouble Buddha with this

So what does Qiuchi want to wish for?

In no time, Cheng Luanxin had convinced herself and joined the queue behind the visitors.

Taking the plaque from the monk, she continued muttering: “I think I should make a proper wish after all. It’d be disrespectful to Buddha otherwise. Worst case, I’ll just have to come back again…”

The cameraman moved closer to film, but Cheng Luanxin quickly covered the plaque: “No filming! It won’t work if you film it. If you’re bored, go get your own plaque.”

The cameraman: “…”

Holding the plaque, Cheng Luanxin hesitated to write.

The most pressing wish was undoubtedly to swap bodies with Song Qiuchi as soon as possible—but how to phrase it?

If she wrote both their names and the request plainly, other visitors might see it, take photos, and post them online, causing trouble.

But if she wasn’t clear, Buddha might not be able to help.

After much deliberation, she grabbed a marker and wrote: “Wishing Song Qiuchi and Cheng Luanxin good health.”

Though still somewhat vague, surely Buddha would understand?

She tied the simple wish with a red string, hung it on the wall, clasped her hands in prayer, then turned to the cameraman: “Let’s go back.”

In the courtyard, Du Zhiruo had finished her prayers and emerged.

She smiled as she approached: “Where did you and Luanxin go? I looked everywhere for you.”

Cheng Luanxin replied: “She went to ask about rituals. I just wandered around. There’s a red wishing wall over there—it’s really pretty. I made a wish. Want to go see?”

Du Zhiruo’s expression turned odd: “You made a wish?”

Cheng Luanxin nodded: “Yeah, just a small one. Do you want to make one too?”

Du Zhiruo hesitated: “But… I just heard… that red wall is for… romantic wishes…”

Cheng Luanxin’s face froze: “Huh?”

Du Zhiruo asked uncertainly: “Did you wish for romance?”

Cheng Luanxin panicked: “No! Oh no! I wrote for me and Cheng Luanxin to stay healthy! What do I do now?”

The cameraman was equally stunned: “I wrote for my sister to get into a good university! Is Buddha gonna think I’m wishing for romance with my sister?!”

Du Zhiruo: “…”

Comments:

“HAHAHAHAHA I’m dying of laughter, turns out the wish she was so afraid to say out loud was actually this simple.”

“Even the cameraman is hilarious HAHAHAHA.”

“Secretly wishing for each other confirmed. Wishing you both good health and many children!”

“Did she really write that? Then why be so secretive about it?”

“Roses ×2”

The more Cheng Luanxin thought about it, the more uneasy she felt. “No, no, I have to go take it down. I hope Buddha hasn’t seen what I wrote yet.”

Du Zhiruo blinked. “Don’t you want a romantic fate with Cheng Luanxin?”

Of course not! Who would want a romantic fate with Song Qiuchi?! But she couldn’t say that in front of the camera. Cheng Luanxin argued righteously, “That’s a different matter! Think about it—Buddha has so many affairs to handle every day. The people he must hate the most are those who don’t read the instructions properly. If I get blacklisted by Buddha, won’t all my future prayers go unanswered?”

Hearing this, even the cameraman panicked. “Then let’s hurry and take it down!”

Du Zhiruo: “…”

The group rushed to the Wishing Wall and looked closely—every prayer plaque indeed carried wishes related to love.

Cheng Luanxin frantically searched around. “Ah, where was it? I remember hanging it right around here!”

The cameraman suddenly exclaimed, “I found it!”

Cheng Luanxin was stunned. “I hung it right near yours. Why is mine gone?”

Just then, a monk in charge approached. “May I ask what you’re looking for, benefactor?”

Cheng Luanxin hurriedly explained, “Hello, hello! I just hung up a plaque, but I wrote the wrong thing. Now I can’t find it.”

The monk smiled. “It might have been selected for blessings. Every day, we randomly choose a batch of plaques to be consecrated in the main hall. A new batch was just sent over. You’re quite fortunate, benefactor.”

Cheng Luanxin: “…”

It’s over. It’s been delivered straight to Buddha. How will Buddha punish someone who didn’t read the instructions? Would he… force her to date Song Qiuchi?

Her legs went weak, and she slumped onto a bench, utterly dejected.

At that moment, Song Qiuchi returned. Frowning, she walked over to Cheng Luanxin. “No luck today. We came too late—the ceremony’s already over… Why do you look like that?”

Cheng Luanxin lifted her head pitifully. “Song Qiuchi, if you suddenly feel like you’re deeply in love with me recently, please don’t mind it. It’s probably Buddha punishing me.”