All the Female Protagonists Who Have Been Saved Have Become Obsessed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 9

“What?” Zhou Li froze. “Visiting a prison? Who?”

“The driver who hit her.”

Zhou Li frowned. “What’s she doing there?”

The system couldn’t answer.

Zhou Li wasn’t in a hurry anymore. She sat down slowly, ordered takeout, and checked Weibo.

The past two days, Zhou Xi and Li Hongqing’s scandal had kept the internet buzzing.

Zhou Li scrolled her phone, finding a message.

Three days from now, Zhou Xi would hold a press conference.

Zhou Li raised an eyebrow. Did he have a plan?

Checking Zhou Xi’s studio, there was no activity. Li Hongqing’s studio was deactivated, Wang Shan’s Weibo was silent, and Fenghang Entertainment had closed its comment section.

But Weibo was abuzz with theories, saying Zhou Xi cuckolded Feng Ziying, and his wife cuckolded him too.

Zhou Li laughed.

When it came to wit, netizens were unmatched.

In the prison visiting room, only one visitor was allowed at a time. Fang Yan wheeled Chunshui to the door, and a guard took her inside.

Fang Yan checked on his boss’s mood but couldn’t read her.

He waited outside for her to finish.

Chunshui looked up as the iron door opened, and the prisoner was brought out by a guard.

This was her second time seeing the man who hit her.

The first was three years ago at his sentencing, when the judge gave him three years in prison.

This was his third year, and he’d be out soon.

The driver, seeing who it was, was startled, sitting with unease in his eyes.

He looked healthy, hair cropped short, prison uniform clean.

Clearly, these three years in prison, free of life’s worries, had been comfortable. He’d gained weight.

Chunshui picked up the phone, gesturing for him to do the same.

The driver, nervous, complied.

He knew Chunshui—she was a big star.

Chunshui said into the phone, “Long time no see. Do you still remember me?”

Wang Yongan slowly said, “I remember.”

“Good,” Chunshui said, as if chatting casually. “These three years, you seem to have done well. But I haven’t.”

Wang Yongan looked at the woman beyond the glass.

She was beautiful but cold.

Especially her left face, scarred like weathered tree bark.

Chunshui smiled faintly, the smile not reaching her eyes.

“I’m an actress. My face is ruined, twelve steel pins in each leg, still in rehab. I’m not doing well, but someone’s living quite nicely.”

“Wang Yongan, six months after you went to prison, a sum appeared in your wife’s account. Did you know?”

Wang Yongan lowered his eyes, hands hidden under the table, gripping his pants, not daring to reply.

“You’re getting out soon, right?” Chunshui said, as if just realizing. “Since I didn’t die, just got badly injured, you only got three years.”

“Prison’s nice, huh? Food and shelter provided. Look, you’ve even gained weight.”

“I remember the judge said your family was poor, with a seventy-year-old mother and a three-year-old child. Your mother was sick, needing care, so you drove trucks desperately to earn money, drinking a bottle of liquor at night to stay alert.”

“But I wonder, was that million in your wife’s account enough for your mother’s treatment? Your kid’s old enough for school now, right? Is your family waiting for your release to reunite?”

Wang Yongan’s spine chilled, goosebumps creeping up his arms, making the phone feel unbearably heavy.

Though his shackles were off, he felt chained, sinking endlessly.

“What do you want?!” Wang Yongan’s voice was low, edged with menace.

“Nothing,” Chunshui smiled faintly. “Just like you took money to do a job, I’ve got some dirty money too.”

Wang Yongan threw the phone, lunging at the glass, roaring, “If you touch my family, I won’t let you off!”

Chunshui didn’t flinch. In her wheelchair, she savored his ferocious expression before smiling, kindly reminding, “What can you do? You’ve got months left in here.”

Wang Yongan slammed the glass, wanting to tear her apart.

“0413! What are you doing!” A guard burst in, restraining him instantly.

A guard entered Chunshui’s side too. She waved, smiling warmly at Wang Yongan. “I’ll visit next week. Hope you’ll have good news for me.”

Chunshui set the phone down and was wheeled out by the guard.

Wang Yongan was pinned against the glass, face distorted, eyes panicked.

The chill seemed to seep into his organs, making him tremble uncontrollably.

“Boss, you okay?” Fang Yan took over from the guard, checking her worriedly.

Chunshui shook her head, signaling to talk outside.

In the car, Fang Yan drove back to the hospital.

Chunshui looked out the window.

The prison was in the suburbs, the scenery desolate, growing livelier closer to the city.

Fang Yan gripped the wheel, speaking first. “Director Zhang’s side arranged a meeting with investors. They say the script’s ready.”

Chunshui gave a faint hum.

Fang Yan glanced at her in the rearview mirror, seeing her expressionless, staring out, her slender shoulders looking frail.

He quickly refocused.

Anyone could be pitied, but his boss didn’t need it.

Fang Yan, eight years in investment banking, had seen highs and lows.

At his lowest, Chunshui picked him up. She was his benefactor, though she was struggling then too.

But she had money.

With her funds and sharp insight, their company’s assets hit 1 billion USD in under three years, from a 200 million RMB start.

Yet Fang Yan didn’t fully understand her.

She endured hardship, gritted through pain, but seemed haunted by her past.

She wasn’t short on money now, with many eager to give her more, yet she stayed low-key.

She even wanted to erase her investment banking traces to return to acting.

To Fang Yan, if she loved acting, she could fund films herself. But Chunshui didn’t, as if always seeking an opportunity.

At the hospital, before getting out, Chunshui said, “Meet Director Zhang personally. After, find a suitable place to set up a branch.”

Fang Yan nodded; they’d agreed on this before returning.

Chunshui, in sunglasses, glanced at him. “Find me a strong female personal assistant. Don’t come back here—handle things by phone.”

Fang Yan was stunned.

Chunshui said calmly, “I don’t want to reveal my cards.”

If she guessed right, her enemies might be more dangerous than imagined.

Fang Yan was her ace, not to be exposed yet.

Only if her enemies thought she was a weak cicada could she be the final oriole.

People only let their guard down and slip up against weaker prey.

…

Zhou Li napped again, saw two patients, then got a call from the nurses’ station saying the patient in 215 was back.

She grabbed the ointment to treat Chunshui, glancing at the desk’s folder, pursed her lips, and took it too.

At the nurses’ station, they had the tray ready, whispering, “The 215 patient’s back and brought two bodyguards.”

Zhou Li: ?

Zhou Li: “Bodyguards for what?”

The nurse shook her head.

Zhou Li, in a sour mood, took the tray.

First, Chunshui thought she liked women, now she’s parading with bodyguards.

Saying she didn’t want attention was her, breaking rules was also her.

Zhou Li tucked the folder under her arm, arriving at 215. Two tall bodyguards stood at the door.

Black suits, black sunglasses, identical stances.

Seeing Zhou Li, they raised hands to stop her.

Zhou Li’s eyes narrowed behind her gold-rimmed glasses. “I’m the hospital’s dean and 215’s attending doctor.”

The bodyguards were polite.

“Doctor Zhou? The boss mentioned you.”

One knocked. “Boss, Doctor Zhou’s here.”

“Come in,” Chunshui said.

A bodyguard opened the door, smiling warmly. “Doctor Zhou, please.”

Zhou Li pursed her lips, entered with the tray, and set it down heavily.

Chunshui was reading documents, hearing the thud. She turned, seeing Zhou Li putting on gloves, her face sour.

Chunshui set the documents down. “Is Doctor Zhou in a bad mood today?”

Zhou Li glanced at her.

“You’re in a good mood,” she stated.

Chunshui nodded. “Went out. After years away, China’s changed a lot.”

Zhou Li took out alcohol wipes. Chunshui offered her chin. Zhou Li held it, disinfecting her left cheek, tossing the cotton in the medical trash, then said, “China’s changed a lot.”

She took the ointment, kneading it, eyes lowered. “Changes are big, but China’s still more conservative than abroad.”

Chunshui: “Hm?”

Zhou Li applied the ointment to her left cheek, leaned close to check, confirmed it was fine, removed her gloves, and handed the folder back. “I don’t need this.”

Chunshui looked down. “Did Doctor Zhou look through it? I checked—these people have good character and looks.”

Zhou Li laughed, exasperated, biting her lip, then letting go. She dropped the folder onto Chunshui’s lap.

“You know me well?” Zhou Li asked.

Chunshui looked up, her expressionless face meeting Zhou Li’s, her eyes cold.

Zhou Li got angrier.

So only you can get mad?

Her lips tightened, chest heaving.

Chunshui watched her, then lowered her head, flipping through the folder. “No one you like in here?”

Zhou Li scoffed, recalling the system saying Chunshui thought she liked her.

She smirked, arms crossed, sneering, “Of course not.”

Chunshui frowned, sensing the odd atmosphere. She opened her mouth to stop Zhou Li, but Zhou Li maliciously said, “After all, they don’t compare to you.”