Healing the Black Lotus Female Supporting Character (Transmigration into a Book - ABO) - Chapter 15

Hua You’s face turned red in an instant.

She bent down slightly, quietly gazing at the top of Bian Chengyi’s head, her ponytail, and the sliver of neck that was revealed—long and graceful like a swan’s, pale and elegant. On an impulse, Hua You reached out and touched it. Her fingertips were cold, sending a jolt straight through Bian Chengyi’s heart.

“Don’t touch me like that,” Bian Chengyi said.

As she tightened the knot of the shoelaces, her fingers brushed against a small wound on her hand. The sting of that friction oddly brought a faint, burning rush to her bl00d. The chill of Hua You’s fingertips only added to the sensation, like ice and fire colliding. Bian Chengyi lowered her head, pressing her lips together, and shoved the strange emotions from her lingering susceptibility phase deep into the darkest corners of her heart.

What she didn’t realize was that from Hua You’s angle, the tips of her ears had turned completely red.

Hua You pulled her hand back and murmured, “Sister Chengyi… I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” Bian Chengyi dusted off her knees and stood up. “Do you want to eat on the first or second floor today?”

At their school, the first floor mainly served customizable small dishes, while the second floor focused on noodle options. Hua You blinked brightly and said, “Second floor! It’s Monday—they should have sausage noodles today! So delicious.”

They started walking slowly as they chatted. Bian Chengyi paused, then asked, “Did your knee get hurt when you were helping me yesterday?”

“Ah… Did Teacher Xu tell you?” Hua You sounded completely casual about it. “Actually, I just tripped on my own. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Bian Chengyi said, “Then maybe let’s not eat on the second floor today.”

Hua You let out a confused “Eh?” and said, “Why not? It’s not like I broke a bone. Going up one floor isn’t a big deal…”

“If you want it that much, just wait for me on the first floor,” Bian Chengyi said after thinking it over. “You can get me the vegetable tofu dish—I’ll bring the noodles down for you.”

When Bian Chengyi finally brought the noodles down to where Hua You was waiting, she found her far too conspicuous.

Everyone else seemed dim to her—just background characters, irrelevant passersby. But Hua You, with her eyes shining brightly as she waited, seemed to glow from within, making her stand out vividly in the crowd. She waved at Bian Chengyi, a row of meats lined up on the table in front of her. “Over here, Sister Chengyi!”

Bian Chengyi: I vaguely recall only asking for vegetable tofu…

After sitting down, she placed the bowl in front of Hua You and watched her beam with happiness. For the first time, Bian Chengyi truly felt the difference in how easily joy came to people. Hua You took a big bite of sausage, then smiled like the host of the meal and said, “Eat whatever you want—don’t hold back. It’s on me.”

“How much was it?” Bian Chengyi asked.

She was met with a playfully exaggerated frown from Hua You. “Come on, don’t be like that. Not only did you pay for the noodles, but I also dragged you into studying so late you got sick—I’m still feeling guilty about that. Let me make it up to you with some extra meat. Look, tomato soup, fish, pork ribs—they’re all good for you. Sure, the cafeteria food isn’t anything special, but hey, it’s still decent.”

Bian Chengyi hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t that she didn’t like meat—it’s just that she ate very little of it, especially cafeteria meat dishes. At home, meals were usually prepared by a cook, and they always looked and tasted better than anything at school. Over time, she had practically brainwashed herself into believing cafeteria food—especially the meat—was just plain bad.

But when she saw the sparkle in Hua You’s eyes, she understood what people meant by “too kind to refuse.”

It seemed she had misunderstood something during their last meal together. Back then, she’d assumed Hua You was just joining her for lunch as a rare occasion.

But she wouldn’t say any of that out loud. She simply did her best to eat a bit more of everything Hua You had chosen for her.

On their way back to class, they happened to run into Director Lu and a few other teachers heading to lunch.

Hua You cheerfully called out, “Hello, Director Lu!”

Director Lu, seeing Hua You, felt a rush of pride—like a once-hopeless student had finally turned things around. “Hua You! You’ve really become a dark horse this time. I underestimated you before,” he praised warmly. “If you can keep up this performance until the college entrance exam, Keda University will be yours for sure.”

Director Lu then looked over at Bian Chengyi, smiling broadly. “Chengyi, you’re our ‘Xi Shi Class Monitor’—you’ve really got to keep this little ‘Demon Queen’ in line.”

“She’s the one taking care of me,” Bian Chengyi replied with a gentle smile.

Director Lu assumed it was just a polite remark. Everyone used to know exactly what kind of person Hua You was—she’d caused enough trouble in the past that Fang Huai had to talk to Teacher Xu multiple times on Fang Jinyu’s behalf. When two top students from previous grades had dated, most teachers turned a blind eye, treating it like a sweet story—even Director Lu had joked about it.

These days, Director Lu had taken a step further: not only did he enjoy teasing couples, he also took great joy in “shipping” people together. And now, his newest favorite duo was “Class Monitor Xi Shi” and “Sleeping Beauty the Demon Queen.” With a kindly chuckle, he said, “Hua You, honestly, you don’t listen to anyone else—only Chengyi. You’re only ever afraid of her. Good thing our Chengyi’s got such a good temperament. And let’s not forget—she’s beautiful too. In my opinion, there’s no one in the whole grade who has more grace and character than her. So don’t go upsetting her again, alright?”

Hua You’s eyebrow twitched. She strongly suspected Director Lu had already imagined an entire 100,000-word “rivals-to-lovers” plotline in his head. But Bian Chengyi responded with her ever-composed smile, elegant and modest as always. “Director Lu, you’d better hurry to lunch. If we keep talking, we’ll delay your meal.”

“All right, all right. Oh, and Hua You—especially you—stop by my office sometime when you get a chance,” Director Lu added a few more words of encouragement before watching the students walk off.

In real life, Hua You had long gotten used to being the kind of “good student” who was favored by teachers. She was used to walking into the office and walking out with a stack of tests to grade and a handful of snacks. But now, she showed a rare flicker of unease—the kind a once-rebellious student feels when suddenly treated with kindness. “What do you think Director Lu wants to talk to me about?” she asked nervously.

“Don’t worry,” Bian Chengyi said softly. “Director Lu used to teach us Chinese in first year. I remember one time you fell asleep in class—he didn’t even scold you. He let you rest and only woke you after class ended.”

Hua You didn’t really blame her past self for that. “Classical Chinese lessons are really hard to stay awake through…”

Bian Chengyi let out a quiet sigh. “You feel like classical Chinese is just dry memorization, right?”

Hua You shook her head. “Classical Chinese has its charm. But under the current exam-focused system, it does end up feeling a little lifeless.”

The way she spoke—mature and measured—sounded like a teacher. Bian Chengyi smiled faintly. “Do you remember back then, ‘Spring River, Flower Moon Night’ wasn’t even part of the official exam syllabus, but Director Lu asked us to memorize it anyway? You all nearly revolted and went to complain to the principal…”

Looking back, that probably was a bit much. Hua You laughed awkwardly, taking the blame for her original self. “Actually, I really liked one line from it—‘Life after life, endless generations pass, the river moon remains the same each year.’ Back then… I probably just didn’t understand it well enough.”

“That incident left a deep impression on me,” Bian Chengyi said quietly. “As the class monitor, I remember how disappointed Director Lu was. He pulled me aside to ask what was going on. He didn’t ask who started it—he just wanted to understand why the class had become so resistant to memorizing poetry. Even beautiful poetry. Just because it wasn’t on the test.”

She paused, her tone suddenly subdued.

“Everyone was just… exhausted. The pressure of exams wore everyone down.”

“In the end, the more we compete, the more we burn out. All that’s left is extreme utilitarianism and exclusion,” Bian Chengyi said with a faint, mocking curve to her lips as the two of them continued walking side by side. “Everyone retreats into their own little circles, their own preferences. Those who score low look down on hard-working students. Those who score high look down on them too. Everyone pretends not to care about studying—but they’re all terrified of falling behind.”

“In an environment like that, friendships become fragile.”

She stopped walking and turned to look at Hua You.

“You were able to fall out with Qin Jing yesterday… who’s to say you won’t treat me like a stranger tomorrow? Or return to how things used to be between us?”

“I won’t,” Hua You met her gaze and shook her head. “Qin Jing crossed the line. But you, Sister Chengyi—I like people who are decent.”

“What do you mean by ‘decent’?” Bian Chengyi asked.

“I don’t know how to explain it exactly… it’s a feeling, I guess. When someone’s better than you, you might feel jealous, sure—but you don’t want to drag them down. You don’t wish they’d fall. You just want to catch up to them.”

“Like when I ranked first in the grade… how many people believed me? How many were just waiting for me to mess up on the next exam?”

“Some said I cheated, and that I’d be exposed soon enough. Others said it was just luck, and they hoped Fang Jinyu would knock me down during the next liberal arts test.”

“But I know you wouldn’t think like that. That’s why I’ll do everything I can to move forward—with you.”

Hua You gently looped her arm through Bian Chengyi’s, and together, they slowly made their way back to the classroom.

Bian Chengyi didn’t respond. She just fell into a long silence.

Trying to lighten the mood, Hua You spoke up again. “By the way, Sister Chengyi—do you want to know what I think of Fang Jinyu?”

“Xiaoyu?” Bian Chengyi blinked, her lashes fluttering quickly.

She’d always felt that Fang Jinyu was someone better left unmentioned between them.

After all, she realized something: if Hua You spoke badly of Fang Jinyu, it would upset her and make her distance herself from Hua You. But if Hua You spoke well of Fang Jinyu—hoping Bian Chengyi might help them reconcile and become friends—it would hurt even more. And there’d be no real reason to pull away.

Yes. It was strange.

She didn’t want Hua You and Fang Jinyu to become good friends.

Honestly, if possible— Hua You only needs one good friend.

And that… should be her.