All the Female Protagonists Who Have Been Saved Have Become Obsessed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 44

“Why aren’t you eating?” Zhou Xi asked.

Beixia looked up, then down, slowly chewing a fry. Her face looked off. Zhou Xi, concerned, asked, “Are you feeling unwell?”

Beixia meant to shake her head, but meeting Zhou Xi’s gaze, she nodded slowly.

Zhou Xi touched her forehead—it was cool.

Grabbing her coat, she said, “Let’s go home.”

Beixia nodded. She didn’t want to stay out. It’d been a while since she talked with Zhou Xi like this; she craved a quiet place.

Zhou Xi packed the food. Standing curbside, they tried hailing a cab. Christmas Eve cabs were full, and none stopped. Zhou Xi checked an app—long waitlist. Anxious, she heard Beixia say, “Let’s walk. I feel better now.”

“You sure?” Zhou Xi looked worried. Beixia shook her head, taking the food bag.

They walked along a snowy path.

Snowflakes stopped falling. A thin layer of snow lined the roadside; their steps stirred it away. Zhou Xi looked at the sky, the deep night blanketing the earth.

Cars honked occasionally. Away from the bustling square, it was quiet. Zhou Xi glanced at Beixia, her youthful face fixed ahead. Sensing Zhou Xi’s gaze, Beixia turned. Zhou Xi smiled, asking, “How’s school lately?”

Beixia said softly, “New homeroom teacher. The class vibe’s good.”

Zhou Xi said, “Work hard. After New Year, it’s college exams.” She sighed about time.

“Which university do you want me to get into?” Beixia asked suddenly.

Zhou Xi paused, not having thought about it. “Do your best, aim for the top!”

Smiling, she added sheepishly, “I don’t know much about universities.”

“What about you? Where’d you go?” Beixia pressed, wanting to know Zhou Xi.

Zhou Xi said, “My school? A normal university. I studied abroad as an exchange student for a year. Want to apply to mine?”

Beixia nodded. Zhou Xi chuckled, “But you’re a science student. My school’s stronger in humanities, ranks high there, weaker in sciences. With your ability, aim higher.”

Beixia pursed her lips, suddenly hating her past self for choosing science. She lacked talent in humanities, especially subjective questions. Her teachers discussed her Chinese and English grades. English improved with vocabulary and practice, but Chinese eluded her—her essays were precise but lacked lyrical beauty.

She’d seen Zhou Xi’s drafts—elegant, sharp, refreshing to read.

Seeing Beixia quiet, Zhou Xi patted her shoulder, “Science is great too. Your teacher Zhao called, said your Chinese needs work, especially essays.”

Zhou Xi grinned, “Why not ask me? I haven’t written exam essays in ages, but I’ve kept up with official writing. They’re similar—I could guide you.”

It was the only thing Zhou Xi felt she could teach Beixia. Math, physics, chemistry—numbers—gave her headaches.

Beixia glanced at her, asking softly, “Would you teach me?” Her tone was humble.

“Silly kid.” Zhou Xi patted her head, as if checking if it was ripe.

“Of course,” Zhou Xi said.

Beixia gave a small smile.

Christmas Eve was lively. Passing a fruit cart, Zhou Xi remembered their empty fruit stock. Stopping, she and Beixia asked prices—reasonable—so she bought some. Talking to Beixia, a child’s voice cut in, “Mom, is that Beixia?”

“Who?” Lei Hua looked, confused, following her son’s pointing. She saw Beixia with a graceful woman in a black coat.

Zhou Xi turned, hearing a sharp-faced woman sneer, “Well! Beixia can afford fruit now? Said you couldn’t eat, but fruit’s pricey. I don’t dare buy, yet you’ve got a whole bag!”

Lei Hua craned to see. Zhou Xi frowned, thinking, “System, who’s this?”

Since the system’s task announcement, Zhou Xi rarely contacted it—this peaceful world needed little intervention. Calling the system was overkill.

System: “The female lead’s aunt and cousin.”

Zhou Xi understood.

After Beixia’s parents died, her uncle’s family handled the funeral, profiting plenty. Yet, adopting Beixia, they mistreated her, calling her a burden, even wanting her to quit school. The aunt, especially harsh, resented Beixia’s mother for blocking her marriage to Beixia’s uncle, taking it out on Beixia.

Zhou Xi’s lips curled coldly. Beixia gripped the fruit bag.

Zhou Xi had paid, and Beixia took the bag, noting Zhou Xi’s high heels made carrying tricky. Seeing her aunt, nightmare memories flooded back. Before Beixia could react, Bei Bing said, “Mom, I want fruit!”

Bei Bing, pestering Lei Hua for fruit, led her to spot Beixia. He always took Beixia’s things—his mother said Beixia, living off them, should yield to him.

This time, too, Bei Bing charged to snatch the bag.

“Give it!”

Smack! Bei Bing tripped, sprawling forward. Zhou Xi glanced right, whistling softly, retracting her foot.

Bei Bing wailed. Zhou Xi looked disdainfully at the boy—too old to cry like that. She pulled Beixia back a step.

Beixia snapped back, frozen by memories, unable to move as Bei Bing charged. Feeling Zhou Xi’s warm hand, she heard, “Don’t be afraid.”

Lei Hua rushed to her son, cooing, “Where’d you fall? Does it hurt?”

Zhou Xi watched the drama, chin high, saying haughtily to Lei Hua, “Whose kid is this, rushing out, scaring people? If I fell from fright, could you pay for it?”

“You!” Lei Hua fumed, but seeing Zhou Xi’s striking appearance and chic clothes, she tempered her anger. A bully of the weak, she saw Zhou Xi wasn’t easy prey. She yelled at Beixia, “Are you dead? Your brother fell, and you don’t help!”

Bei Bing kept crying, clueless how he fell—just tripped, face-planting publicly. Pain was secondary; embarrassment stung.

Beixia pursed her lips, silent.

Her aunt was always unreasonable, even her uncle couldn’t handle her. Beixia, not wanting trouble, tugged Zhou Xi, “Let’s go.”

Zhou Xi wasn’t leaving. Smiling at Beixia, “It’s fine.”

Today, she’d teach this family a lesson. She hadn’t planned to confront them, but fate brought them together.

Zhou Xi smiled gently at Lei Hua, saying coolly, “Your son’s crippled? Can’t get up alone? So old, needing help—how embarrassing.”

Lei Hua realized Zhou Xi was with Beixia. Screeching, “Beixia, you’re bold now, huh? Don’t ask us for living expenses! We can’t afford your highness!”

Zhou Xi sneered, “Can’t afford? Living expenses? I recall Beixia’s parents’ death compensation was more than that. And her house—bought at 3,000 per square meter. Prices have soared. You know it, I know it. You took what wasn’t yours, mistreated her—aren’t you afraid her parents will haunt you at night?”

“Who are you?” Lei Hua, ignoring her son, eyed Zhou Xi warily.

Zhou Xi mocked, “Why should I tell you? You tricked Beixia when she was naive. Now we’ve met, so I’ll say—return what’s hers, every cent, or see you in court!”

Taking the fruit bag from Beixia, Zhou Xi taunted Lei Hua, “And these fruits? I bought them. You can’t afford them, but I can! I don’t share with others, either!”

With that, Zhou Xi turned coolly, leading Beixia away. Lei Hua wanted to chase, demanding what she meant, but Bei Bing’s wails held her back. She watched Beixia and the stranger leave.

What happened this half-month? How’d Beixia get such a backer? Her husband said her family was gone—where’d this woman come from?

Panicked, Lei Hua dragged Bei Bing home to discuss with her husband. Beixia was getting bold, daring to defy them!

Beixia looked at Zhou Xi, whose eyes sparkled with victory. Beixia asked softly, “Was what you said true?”

Zhou Xi’s joy faded. Sighing, she said to Beixia, “All true.”

“My uncle’s family took my parents’ death compensation?” Beixia asked, her dark eyes seeking truth from Zhou Xi.

Zhou Xi’s heart ached at her expression.

Stopping, she pulled Beixia into a hug. Beixia’s nose stung, pressed against her chest.

Zhou Xi said, “I planned to handle this after your exams. Your parents’ compensation was hefty—the airline was at fault. And your house, your mom told me, bought at 3,000 per square meter. Prices have multiplied. Even with a mortgage, there’s no way it’s gone.”

Beixia remembered wanting to go home, finding the lock changed. A strange man emerged, saying, “This is my house. What’re you doing?”

Her uncle left her no memento, claiming seeing things would sadden her. Now, it was full of holes—she’d been too grieved to think then.

Beixia’s throat tightened, unable to believe her once-kind uncle was like this.

Zhou Xi, one hand holding the bag, patted her back, comforting silently.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take back every bit that’s yours.”

“Thanks,” Beixia said sincerely.

Zhou Xi touched her hair, “No need.” Smiling, “I’m here. No one will bully you.”

“Mm.” Beixia’s tears turned to a smile.

Still a kid.

Zhou Xi, seeing her red eyes, gently wiped her tears, offering her hand, “Let’s go home. It’s Christmas Eve.”

Beixia gripped her hand tightly, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

The year was ending, a new one nearing.

That night, Beixia lay awake, thoughts swirling—Zhou Xi stepping from another’s car, her aunt and uncle’s faces, Bei Bing snatching her things. Tossing, she recalled Zhou Xi was off tomorrow. Sitting up, hugging her pillow, Beixia, in slippers, hesitated at Zhou Xi’s door before knocking.

Zhou Xi was contacting a lawyer, awaiting a reply. She opened her writer’s column—low traffic, but some praised her writing. Time for a second post. Searching for inspiration, the knock came.

Opening the door, she saw Beixia, timid, hugging her pillow, looking small, face nervous.

“I can’t sleep.”

Zhou Xi glanced at the time—nearly midnight. School was off, but Beixia had class tomorrow. Zhou Xi’s holiday differed—Saturday off, but seniors had Sunday classes.

Without hesitation, Zhou Xi stepped aside, “Come in.”

Beixia eyed Zhou Xi’s room. She’d never entered but peeked often. Zhou Xi’s bed looked comfier—soft bedding, a blanket draped, pillows stacked for lounging. Her laptop sat by the bed, books by the pillow.

Zhou Xi closed the door, standing behind Beixia, “Sleep inside. I’ve got work to finish.”

“Will I disturb you?” Beixia hesitated.

Zhou Xi smiled, “No, it’s not serious work.”

Beixia, puzzled—work could be serious or not?

Zhou Xi pulled her to the bed, commanding, “Get in!”

Beixia eyed her pillow; Zhou Xi’s bed had plenty. Zhou Xi tossed two off, letting Beixia place hers, then watched her lie down, tucking her in. Sitting at the bed’s head, propped on three pillows, Zhou Xi draped a blanket over her chest, set the quilt on her lap, and placed her laptop.

Zhou Xi savored life, even busy—finding quirky eateries, bringing back tasty finds.

Beixia, lying on her side, watched Zhou Xi work, fingers sliding on the trackpad, eyes focused.

The bedding was soft, scented with Zhou Xi. Though they used the same body wash, shampoo, and detergent, Zhou Xi’s scent was mature, womanly. Beixia sniffed her arm—hers was childish, milky.

Zhou Xi, working, remembered Beixia beside her. Turning, she saw Beixia’s dark eyes watching, no trace of sleep.

“Am I keeping you up?” Zhou Xi asked.

She set the laptop down, deciding to sleep—room’s light wasn’t sleep-friendly.

Beixia shook her head, unseen. Zhou Xi placed the laptop on the nightstand, leaned to turn off the light, plunging them into darkness, only sounds audible.

Beixia felt the quilt tug—Zhou Xi lay down, her limbs close. Beixia curled up, her foot brushing Zhou Xi’s leg.

Zhou Xi didn’t react. Beixia sensed her turn, then heard, “Can’t sleep? Want to talk?”

Beixia whispered, “My head’s a mess.”

Today’s events overwhelmed her—why Zhou Xi delayed handling them. Zhou Xi’s voice glowed softly in the dark.

“Don’t think too much. People are complex—no absolute good or bad. But know, this isn’t your fault. Your things—I’ll make them return every bit.”

“I trust you,” Beixia said softly after a pause. “Zhou Xi, I only trust you.”

Her fervent trust moved Zhou Xi, who touched her head.

“Sleep. I’m here.”

Beixia thought she’d stay awake, but slept till dawn, her biological clock waking her. At six, the sky was dark, the room pitch-black. Zhou Xi slept deeply, her breathing steady. Hearing it, Beixia fully woke, her drifting soul anchored back, heart full of Zhou Xi’s words.

She told her not to fear again, as if with her, nothing was impossible.

Beixia wanted to linger, but school called.

If she were grown, could she lie with Zhou Xi on weekends forever, watching her wake?

Beixia rose carefully, not waking Zhou Xi.

Zhou Xi slept soundly, unmoved as Beixia slipped on slippers.

Before closing the door, Beixia glanced back, smiling—Zhou Xi looked like a kid who couldn’t get enough sleep.

It was Christmas. At school, Beixia found an apple on her desk.

Wu Huimin, awkward, said, “Merry Christmas.”

Beixia, unprepared, apologized softly, “Merry Christmas.”

Wu Huimin seemed thrilled by the reply.

She whispered, “Finished yesterday’s homework? I couldn’t do many questions.”

Beixia nodded. Wu Huimin asked, “Can you explain some? The tutor tried, but I didn’t get it.”

Beixia had no issue.

After lunch at school, the last afternoon class and evening study were Zhao Wenyan’s. Finishing a paper, he said, “It’s Christmas. You’ve all worked hard. Teachers praised you. Next week’s the monthly exam, then New Year and finals. Today, you deserve a break. I took evening study to show a movie.”

“But my rules stand. Homework not done? Sit in the back, lights on, finish it. Done? Sit upfront, no noise, no fuss. Got it?”

“Got it!” the class howled.

Zhao Wenyan laughed.

After class, dinner time.

Beixia and Wu Huimin went out. Beixia saw her uncle.

Bei Dawei, looking glum, smiled at her, “Beixia, done with class? Uncle’s treating you to dinner.”

Wu Huimin offered to eat at the cafeteria.

Beixia knew why her uncle came. Unfazed, expression blank, she followed him out.

Bei Dawei chose a cheap diner, stingily ordering two dishes. He asked, “Haven’t been home in half a month. Used to staying at school?”

Beixia stared at the cup—old, resin cracked with lines.

“Used to it,” she replied.

The school’s heating was broken, under repair, so no dorms, but they didn’t care.

Bei Dawei grinned, “Good, good.”

He seemed at a loss for words with Beixia.

The money he gave her was still in her bag. When Cui Lin accused her of stealing, only Zhou Xi’s money was found on her—her uncle’s was in her bag, untouched. Beixia kept it on her, expecting someone, likely him, to come. She wanted to return it.

The crumpled bills, four of them, she pulled from her pocket, placing them on the table, saying, “I didn’t spend this.”

Bei Dawei eyed the flimsy notes, awkwardly scratching his head, “Your aunt’s sharp-tongued but soft-hearted. Don’t take her words to heart. Today, she mentioned you, said come home for dinner. She’ll make braised pork—kids love that, right?”

Bei Bing loved braised pork, not her.

Beixia felt pity. Once, for eating a piece, her aunt scolded her like she’d never seen meat, begrudging her eating food meant for Bei Bing, leaving her scraps.

Life at her uncle’s wasn’t comfortable, but she had nowhere else then. Now, with Zhou Xi, she didn’t need his meager care.

Beixia’s eyes darkened. “Uncle, is there something you want to say?”

Bei Dawei touched his pocket, wanting a cigarette. What they did wasn’t right, but her family was gone. Her parents’ estate—he had a claim, didn’t he? He raised Beixia, handled their funeral.

Coughing, he said, “I heard someone came to you? Said some gossip? Don’t listen—they know nothing.”

Beixia: Zhou Xi knows everything.

Zhou Xi blushed: Some things I don’t know.