All the Female Protagonists Who Have Been Saved Have Become Obsessed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 39

During evening study, Beixia focused on a math paper, her pen twirling, scribbling steadily, no longer sleeping through class as before.

Her deskmate glanced curiously. Since morning, Beixia seemed different.

Maybe it was her rare focus, not dozing through morning classes, or her fresh look—no thin uniform, but a thick coat like others, fully bundled. Or maybe she finally had some life in her.

People didn’t just dislike Beixia; they feared her.

She always seemed detached, with a calmness beyond her years, indifferent to everything, showing only weariness.

When Cui Lin, hating her, rallied friends to isolate her, Beixia didn’t react.

Her homework was tossed; she stood as punishment without explaining. Teased, books hidden, she just slept in class, uncaring.

After waking, she’d stare at the sky, drifting outside the lesson.

But today, she fought back when Cui Lin accused her of stealing, surprising her deskmate, who expected her to silently take the blame.

The red college exam countdown at the classroom’s back dwindled daily, pressuring even regular class students. Influenced by Beixia, her deskmate tackled her math paper more seriously, though she struggled.

Looking at the paper, her deskmate sighed. She and Beixia, both at the class’s bottom, sat together. The questions’ words were familiar, but the sentences made no sense.

Glancing at Beixia, who’d nearly finished half the paper while daydreaming, her deskmate wondered—both bottom-ranked, how was Beixia so fast? Even copying wasn’t that quick, and she didn’t bother with scratch paper.

Beixia finished half, flicked the paper—a habit—then paused, flipping it over.

She hadn’t done that in ages.

In her first year, before arts and sciences split, she’d flick her paper to celebrate satisfying answers. Today, it felt natural, long overdue.

Beixia worked through it to regain her touch.

Her deskmate watched enviously, wanting to copy but knowing it was pointless—second-last copying from last.

Sighing, she wrote, hoping her blind guesses outscored Beixia’s. Multiple-choice: three long, one short, pick the shortest. Oddly confident, she continued.

When Xu Chuntian arrived, evening study was nearly over.

She’d argued long with Cui Lin’s parent, explaining the issue’s severity, and with the dean’s help, convinced her to let Cui Lin apologize at school.

Holding the eight hundred yuan taken from Beixia, Xu scanned the quiet classroom in the dark. Some students whispered, but softly.

Turning to Cui Lin behind her, she said, “Wait here.”

Pushing the classroom door, its creak and cold handle jolted her.

Beixia sat in the last row by the door, reserved for poor students who didn’t listen. The open door let in biting wind, chilling her neck.

All eyes turned to the door. Xu said, “Beixia, come out.”

The morning’s incident spread by noon—Cui Lin’s money wasn’t stolen by Beixia. Her beautiful, fierce parent confronted the school, leaving teachers speechless.

The class leader, back from delivering the fee list, said nothing, but the office was public. Other classes’ students saw Cui Lin’s mom chasing and cursing her as a wretch, while the “thief” was taken by her striking parent.

Talk shifted to how good-looking Beixia’s parent was.

Some said prettier than TV stars.

Beixia returned to class normally, but Cui Lin vanished.

Classmates gossiped but didn’t dare ask Beixia.

Beixia stood, called out by Xu Chuntian, who glared inside, “What’re you looking at? Study!”

Everyone turned back, pretending to work. Once the door closed, whispers started—what was Xu calling Beixia for?

Outside, Beixia hunched against the cold.

Northern winters were harsh. Her thin shadow fell on the ground. She saw Cui Lin behind Xu.

Xu handed her the money, voice stern, “Your money, reclaimed by your teacher. Beixia, this was my mistake, not controlling the class’s misunderstanding. Don’t be mad at them—it’s my failure. I apologize first.”

Patting Beixia’s shoulder kindly, she added, “Any issues with studies or life, come to me.” Then, “Besides me, Cui Lin has something to say.”

Xu glared at Cui Lin, who teared up, “Beixia, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Beixia gripped the money.

Eight hundred yuan felt thick but light in her hand.

Looking at Xu, she pursed her lips, “Teacher, what should I say?”

Xu frowned.

This wasn’t what she expected.

She thought a struggling, orphaned student like Beixia would crave affection, eagerly accepting her kindness and Cui Lin’s apology, not acting detached, as if Cui Lin apologized to air.

This student was unlikable.

Xu sighed again.

“Cui Lin’s apologizing. What should you say, Beixia?” Xu hinted, squeezing her shoulder heavily.

Beixia felt pain.

Unlike Zhou Xi’s warm embrace, Xu’s grip was oppressive.

Eyes down, as wind whipped through the corridor, her voice ghostly, “My guardian said she wants to see Cui Lin apologize to me in front of the class. It’s not my call, Teacher.”

Beixia’s lips curved into a strange smile.

The corridor’s light flickered off. Xu stepped back, startled, her hand leaving Beixia’s shoulder.

“Teacher…” Cui Lin’s voice triggered the sensor light. Xu looked at Beixia, head down, obedient.

Xu thought she’d misread—Beixia was odd but honest, or she wouldn’t be bullied.

Uncomfortably, her eyelid twitched. Softly, she said, “Tell your guardian Cui Lin apologized, the money’s returned, and the school’s waiving your 250-yuan textbook fee. Let it end here, okay?”

Head down, Beixia’s voice was low, “It’s not my call, Teacher.”

Xu’s head ached. Why was this kid so inflexible? Her guardian’s heated words might’ve been impulsive, maybe regretted. If Beixia relayed this, it could resolve—adults need face, a way out.

Xu softened, “Talk to your guardian. You two make peace. Cui Lin wants to be friends. Classmates shouldn’t fight. She promised not to bully you again.”

Beixia’s wandering soul snapped back, viewing Xu from above. So, the teacher knew everything but did nothing, shielding the culprit.

She repeated, “It’s not my call.”

She sounded dull.

Xu, frustrated, knew Zhou Xi wasn’t easily fooled, not a parent the school could brush off. Hoping Beixia would agree, she tried more, but the evening study bell rang. Beixia glanced outside, lips curving, “Teacher, my guardian’s here.”

Xu started. Beixia bowed, “Class is over. I’m going home. I’ll tell my guardian.”

Classmates with packed bags rushed out, seeing Beixia bow, Cui Lin behind Xu. With the teacher there, they lingered at the door. Beixia walked back, ignoring curious eyes, packing her bag as other classes emptied.

Xu swallowed her anger. Though not ideal, Beixia agreed. Smirking, she said, “Not going home? Blocking the door?”

Students cheered, passing Xu with “Hello, Teacher.”

Not Xu’s evening study, she’d gone to Cui Lin’s house late, brought her back, worried about her self-esteem. Seeing Beixia pack slowly, Xu reluctantly asked, “Shall I walk with you?”

Cui Lin muttered behind her; Xu ignored it.

Beixia looked up, bundled tightly.

Scarf, coat, stuffed backpack—she looked like a penguin, voice muffled, “Mm.”

Xu wondered again—was this Beixia’s usual self?

She had no memory of her. Since sophomore year, Xu led Class 12, regular science. Too many students, Xu only recalled Beixia as odd, unlikable.

Orphaned kids likely had issues.

Xu focused on top students. By senior year, struggling students were quietly given up on—just stay out of trouble.

The three walked to the gate, most students gone, only a few stragglers leaving.

Zhou Xi stood at the gate, hesitant, waiting since earlier to pick Beixia up.

Reading parenting books made her dizzy. They stressed the final exam year as critical, a battle for students and parents. Ensure their life needs, so they focus on studies.

Feeling uneasy, Zhou Xi couldn’t sit home, so drove to get Beixia.

Cold weather turned snow to ice. She’d put chains on the tires, arriving early, but the school was nearly empty. Where was Beixia? Did they miss each other?

No way, Zhou Xi thought—she was noticeable, standing at the gate. Failing before starting, being a good guardian was tough.

Hands in pockets, lost in thought, she spotted Beixia’s round figure.

Bundled thick, waddling like a penguin, with Xu and Cui Lin nearby. Zhou Xi squinted.

Beixia reached her, saying, “Let’s go,” ignoring those behind, no introductions. Xu meant to greet Zhou Xi, but both seemed cut from the same mold, lacking grace.

Pretending not to see Xu, Zhou Xi glanced at her and Cui Lin, then followed Beixia.

Full of questions, she knew now wasn’t the time.

Hurrying to catch the waddling penguin, she whispered, “Walking so fast—know where my car’s parked?”

Beixia paused, looking hesitantly. Zhou Xi raised her arm, signaling to link, smiling, “Come with your sister.”

Beixia reached out, four pale fingertips poking from her sleeve, slowly touching Zhou Xi’s arm. Zhou Xi pulled her hand through, grinning, “Let’s go.”

Their linked shadows swayed with roadside branches in the wind. Xu’s frown lingered, watching them leave.

Cui Lin shivered, whispering, “Teacher, we going?”

“Go.” Xu had a bad feeling. Beixia’s guardian didn’t seem like she’d let it go.

But if the kid agreed, parents usually dropped it.

Xu relaxed.

In the car, Zhou Xi rubbed her hands.

The car stayed running, warm inside.

Starting it, she drove, headlights on, watching the road, asking, “What happened? Why’d you come out with them? Did your teacher hassle you?”

Beixia’s face peeked from her scarf, yawning delicately, warmed by the heater, “No.”

“Why so late? Teacher hold you back?” Zhou Xi asked, worried Xu bullied her—Beixia seemed easy to pick on.

“Mm.” Beixia, sleepy, leaned back.

Zhou Xi glanced in the rearview mirror, exasperated. Couldn’t she say more than a fart’s worth? “Did she say something?”

Beixia relayed Xu’s words.

“She told me to tell you Cui Lin apologized, the school waived my 250-yuan textbook fee, we should make peace, and Cui Lin wants to be friends, won’t bully me again.”

Those words revealed Beixia’s past life.

Zhou Xi gripped the wheel, furious, words firing like a machine gun, “Great! Your teacher knew everything and sided with them! We don’t need their 250-yuan fee! We can pay! A private apology doesn’t count—she must clear your name in front of the class!”

“No way! I’m writing to the Education Bureau tonight! Report her bad conduct!”

Zhou Xi drove, ranting the whole way.

Beixia, no longer sleepy, looked out. Streetlights lit the window, reflecting half of Zhou Xi’s profile.

Beixia pursed her lips, feeling quiet joy.

Zhou Xi used “home.”

Was she part of “home” now?

Back home, Zhou Xi, still angry, ignored the late-night snack for Beixia, grabbing a notebook to write a complaint. Over a thousand words, she wrote about teachers’ influence, children’s fragile hearts, then Beixia’s case—Xu’s negligence caused it. If the school or Education Bureau ignored it, they enabled teachers, harming kids. She demanded accountability.

Elevating it to a national, societal issue, the letter shook readers.

Proud, Zhou Xi thanked her journalist identity’s writing skill.

She thought—could she freelance as a columnist? Parenting books shocked her; being a good guardian meant ensuring Beixia’s physical and emotional needs, balanced nutrition.

Seeing top-student moms’ recipes, Zhou Xi couldn’t cook but could hire a nanny.

Nannies cost at least four thousand monthly. She felt pressure to earn—raising a kid wasn’t easy.

Showing Beixia the letter, Beixia was still awake, doing homework. Zhou Xi slapped it on her desk, proud, “I’ll send it tomorrow!”

Beixia paused, glanced at it, set it down without reaction, like it wasn’t about her, and resumed homework.

Zhou Xi, embarrassed, felt she’d disturbed Beixia’s study.

Tiptoeing, she took the letter and left, realizing she’d overlooked Beixia’s academics. Tutors? Classes? Study materials? Senior year meant urgency.

Feeling pressed, her funds seemed insufficient.

She cut fruit for Beixia to eat with a toothpick, saving time, and served old hen soup—takeout, not homemade. Bringing it to Beixia, she said gently, “Finish studying, sleep early. Food’s here. Fruit can wait, drink soup to warm up, study better.”

Beixia paused, looking at the food, saying, “Thank you.”

Zhou Xi felt like a real parent, ruffling Beixia’s hair, “I’m outside if you need me.”

She lay on the sofa, avoiding the TV to not disturb Beixia, grabbing a book to read.

Finishing homework, Beixia brought out the bowl, seeing Zhou Xi asleep, book on her chest, blanket on the floor. The sofa was as soft as Beixia thought, no wonder Zhou Xi always dozed off.

Late at night, Beixia tapped Zhou Xi’s shoulder, waking her.

“Zhou Xi, sleep in bed.”

Half-awake, Zhou Xi grinned, “Call me sister.”

Beixia pursed her lips, silent.

Yawning, Zhou Xi didn’t notice, heading to wash up. Beixia touched the warm, soft spot Zhou Xi left, like her embrace. Her hand trembled, pulling back.

She didn’t know why, just craved Zhou Xi’s warmth.

Done washing, Zhou Xi yawned, “I’m sleeping. You tidy up and sleep too. I’ll drive you tomorrow. Good night.”

She stumbled to her room, collapsing.

So tired—caring for a kid was exhausting!

Zhou Xi sighed, rolled over, wrapped in blankets, and sank into deep sleep.

Outside, wind howled. Beixia turned off the lights, stood at her bedroom door, glanced at Zhou Xi’s, and whispered, “Good night, Zhou Xi.”

Younger not calling sister, a bit wild at heart