After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Turned on Easy Mode - Chapter 25

Staring at the gilt-edged invitation on the table, Wu You felt a headache coming on. Zhang Wenqi had tossed it to her after their meal, saying, “Go if you want.”

The wedding was tomorrow.

Truth be told, Wu You wanted to see what a noble wedding was like, but showing up empty-handed would be rude. She patted her very flat coin pouch—barely enough to live on as is.

Forget it, don’t go. She pulled out the romance book she’d borrowed last time. It had been sitting here long enough; tomorrow she would return it to Zhao Qingzi—and see her while she was at it.

Her mind jumped to that wall of medical texts in Zhao’s room. If the disability came from a fever, that meant nerve damage. She’d been paralyzed at five; twelve years had passed. As much as Wu You hated to admit it, recovery seemed unlikely.

Maybe the world still had room for miracles—like her falling into this book world and swerving fate. She comforted herself with that thought.

Zhao Qingzi’s gentle smile floated up in her head. She did love teasing her—jump-scaring her and then confessing it was a prank.

The more she thought, the more foolish she felt—yet the image of Zhao’s triumphant grin when a prank landed was irresistibly cute. That smile felt real.

For some reason, she was looking forward to tomorrow even more.

The more she thought, the more impatient she got—wishing she could fast-forward time. With a helpless puff, she blew out the lamp and climbed into bed. Excitement still thrummed through her; she kept thinking until sleep finally pulled her under.

Half-aware, she felt someone shaking her.

“Big sis, get up, the sun’s on your butt.”

Wu You rolled over, ready to steal a few more minutes—then froze. That voice sounded like her little sister’s.

She shot upright. A girl in a white tee and jeans stood by the bed, exasperated. It was her sister—from her previous life.

Confused, she blinked. Didn’t I transmigrate?

Before she could think, her sister yanked her out of bed. Her mind went blank. In the bathroom mirror, the face staring back was her old face.

Was she waking from a dream—or dreaming now? If this was a dream…

She touched her cheek. The mirror girl did the same. If it’s a dream, please let it last a little longer.

Everything was exactly as before—terrifyingly real. Her mother bustling in the kitchen; her sister on the couch watching a drama. Tears pricked for no reason.

Her sister waved her over. She sat, and they watched together as her sister cracked sunflower seeds and chattered.

“Sis, this new show is so good.”

Her sister was snacking so happily that Wu You wanted some too. She reached for the seeds—only for her sister to catch her hand.

Puzzled, she turned. A wrong, eerie smile spread across her sister’s face. “You can’t eat these.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re already dead.”

The scene shattered. Water closed over Wu You’s head; she was drowning. In a blink, her sister’s face became someone else’s—one she knew too well: the original Wu You.

The girl’s hands clamped around her throat as she screamed, hoarse and raw, “Why did you steal my body! Why did you steal my master!”

Wu You couldn’t speak. She only begged the dream to end.

At last the grip loosened. Wu You collapsed, hacking for air. She looked up, ready to explain she hadn’t meant for any of this—only to find the original gone.

People crowded in around her—faces she’d met these past weeks: Zhang Wenqi, Zhao Qingshu, Li Yingying… all of them. They stared like she was a monster.

Fear clenched her belly. The nightmare she’d dreaded had arrived like this. She looked past them—Zhao Qingzi stood at the back. She couldn’t read her expression.

A fragile hope fluttered. “A-Zi,” Wu You said, voice shaking.

No answer. Zhao Qingzi turned her chair and wheeled away, smaller and smaller, until she vanished.

A needle drove into her heart—pain so sharp it stole her breath.

Wu You jerked awake. Night. Her breathing was ragged. She pushed herself up, wrapped her arms around her knees, and curled into a ball—sitting like that until the sky paled.

When the first light crept over the horizon, she rose. She looked tired, even in the bronze mirror as the maid combed her hair. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Tucking the book under her arm, she set off for the Yongding Marquisate. It was early; the streets were still quiet. She didn’t ride—she wanted to clear her head.

The general’s manor was far from the Marquis’s, and the streets filled as she walked. Suddenly, the clash of cymbals and flutes drifted up the road. She looked ahead and saw a sea of red.

A wedding procession. People packed the sidewalks. Wu You didn’t want to squeeze into the crowd—or scare anyone who recognized her.

With a light spring, she landed on a nearby rooftop.

She watched the bustle below, but couldn’t find joy in it. She felt like a spectator who could never quite belong; the world’s noise and color seemed to pass her by.

Who was she now? Where was she headed? Why was she living? She had no answers.

She drifted—until someone called her name, bright with delight. “A-You!”

Zhao Qingzi sat in her chair, eyes and brows all smiles. At the sight of her, the dream’s last shadows flared—Wu You shook her head and forced a smile back.

Zhao Qingzi opened her arms.

Wu You understood. She dropped from the roof, lifted Zhao from the chair, and carried her up to the tiles.

They sat side by side, watching the merriment below. Zhao’s heart stirred with a hazy yearning. She snuck a glance at the person beside her—and saw something off in her expression.

She tugged at Wu You’s sleeve, worried. “What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”

That obvious? Seeing concern on Zhao’s face eased the knot a little—but also sharpened the ache of wanting.

She steadied herself; no need to be found out. “It’s nothing. Probably just a bad night’s sleep.”

Zhao Qingzi frowned. Something was wrong. She took Wu You’s hand. “You told me to trust you. I can do that. Can you trust me?”

The warm, firm grip—no pretense there.

Wu You stared at their joined hands, suddenly wanting to squeeze tighter—as if that would anchor her.

After a breath, she asked, “A-Zi, what do you feel for me?”

Why ask that now? Does she know I like her? Heat crept up Zhao’s ears. She answered honestly:

“To be frank, before that stab you gave me, I thought you were useless. After you said those things to me, I started to notice you.”

Wu You listened intently.

“But noticing fades. What didn’t fade was you showing up, again and again—gifts, the casual kindnesses. You told me I could trust you.”

She looked up, eyes clear. “Whatever else, A-You, you’re already the most important person to me.”

That gaze felt hot. Most important…

Wu You asked the question that gnawed at her. “What if I were still who I was?”

It was a pointless hypothetical—if she’d stayed the old her, she’d be a sieve by now. But she needed to hear it.

Hearing the careful fear in her voice, Zhao didn’t know what had spooked her, only that she was scared.

She let go of Wu You’s hand, leaned in, and hugged her. Resting her chin on Wu You’s shoulder, she spoke softly:

“No matter what, it’s you I care about. The you who gave me a hairpin and a dagger. The you who warmed my hands. The you who flew kites with me. The you who told me to trust you.”

The words were gentle, but solemn. Wu You felt her façade crumple; her voice trembled. “I just… can’t find my direction.”

“A-Zi.”

“Mm. I’m here.”

“You’re so good,” Wu You whispered, a hint of a sob caught in it.

Zhao’s heart clenched—and bloomed at once. But confusion lingered. What happened? Did someone bully her?

Her face darkened at the thought. They were still embracing; Wu You couldn’t see the flicker of violence that passed over Zhao’s features.

Sensing movement in her arms, Zhao smoothed her expression back to its usual warmth.

Wu You straightened, recovering her ordinary calm. Zhao smiled at her as gently as ever. Sunlight spilled over her shoulders, and something soft and bright fell into Wu You’s chest with it.

So I’m not alone in this world. Someone cares.

Warmth seeped in. Wu You was an optimist—once she worked it through, the world felt right again.

While they talked, the procession moved on. Wu You watched the red-streaming band in the distance with an entirely different heart.

She glanced at Zhao Qingzi. What would she look like in a phoenix crown and scarlet robes? The thought itched pleasantly. Her light makeup was already so lovely…

She cut the thought off, flustered.

As Wu You thought about Zhao, Zhao was thinking the same—Red would look good on her. Zhao looked up to sneak a peek—just as Wu You looked back.

Their eyes met dead-on. Both flushed and turned away.

Wu You floundered for words when Zhao’s small voice drifted over. “A-You, take me to the Marquis of Chang’an’s manor? I’m to attend the wedding feast.”

“Mm.”

Wu You lifted Zhao down, took the maid’s waiting chair, and wheeled her toward the Chang’an Marquisate.