Healing the Black Lotus Female Supporting Character (Transmigration into a Book - ABO) - Chapter 23

So… it’s “tutoring fees,” huh?

Hua You stared at the bracelet on her wrist.
She thought—Oh, I get it now. I really get it.

She gave Bian Chengyi a firm pat on the shoulder, completely unbothered by ruining the tender mood.
“Don’t worry. If Yeda doesn’t want you, it’s their loss!”

Bian Chengyi’s gaze lingered on the bracelet, lips curled into a faint smile.
“Seems like this tutoring fee was well worth it.”

The nearby saleswoman chuckled. “Miss Bian, you really spoil your girlfriend.”

Hua You’s cheeks flushed just slightly, and she looked to Bian Chengyi for a cue to explain.

But Bian Chengyi didn’t even blink.
She acted as though the saleswoman’s words were completely normal—“girlfriend” being nothing more than a casual “female friend.” Without addressing it, she simply tilted her head and said:

“Let’s go. The hotpot reservation should be ready by now.”

At the restaurant, Hua You pulled out her phone to redeem their meal set and then handed it across the table to Bian Chengyi.

“Wanna add anything?” she asked.

“I’m good.” Bian Chengyi glanced briefly at the screen. “You go ahead and pick.”

Then, Hua You leaned forward a bit, her tone suddenly more tentative.

“Oh right, Sister Bian… can I ask you for a favor?”

Bian Chengyi absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the table.

She wants a favor?

Is it about paying the bill? Or maybe something to do with Fang Jinyu? Or even the police investigation?

While her mind cycled through a hundred possible scenarios, Hua You smiled sheepishly and said:

“It’s just… I always mess up my dipping sauce. It turns out really bad every time… could you help me make it?”

“…Sure.”
Bian Chengyi blinked once—just slightly thrown off—then stood up to head toward the sauce station.

Hua You sat there for a moment, wondering if her request had been a bit much.
It was her birthday. She should be the host, and yet she was making her guest get up and make her sauce.

But seriously, her sauce was that bad. The kind that could ruin your appetite entirely.

She had loved hotpot since she was a child—mostly because it had always been something of a luxury. Her relatives rarely indulged her cravings for it, so every hotpot meal was special.

The first time she ever went to a hotpot restaurant was for her tenth birthday. She’d eaten a whole plate of meat without using any dipping sauce, earning herself the nickname “Little Meat Goblin” from her relatives.
But the first time she’d tried mixing her own sauce? It was a disaster—some mystery liquid had ruined it with overwhelming saltiness. Ever since then, she’d avoided sauces altogether.

As Hua You spiraled into hotpot-related memories, Bian Chengyi returned—carrying two perfect-looking dipping bowls.

She leaned down, setting one in front of Hua You, her bangs casting a soft shadow across her face.

“Try it.”

Hua You dipped her chopsticks, took a taste—and immediately lit up with pure delight.

It was so good.

For the first time, she felt like she was tasting what hotpot sauce was really meant to be.
All her life she’d avoided dipping sauces—partly out of pride, partly out of not wanting to trouble anyone.

But this? This was bliss.

“Sister Bian, this is amazing!” Hua You sighed happily, resting her chopsticks on the bowl. “Did you practice or something?”

Bian Chengyi gave a faint laugh.

She had always paid attention to the little things—little habits, little details—hoping, once, to earn the approval of adults. That approval had never come.

But if it made Hua You smile like this…

Then maybe that was enough.

The dishes began arriving one after another.
Hua You ladled out a bowl of beef tripe and chicken soup for herself, took a sip, then scooped another for Bian Chengyi.

“Sister Bian, you have to try this beef broth. If you don’t, it’s basically like you didn’t come at all.”

Bian Chengyi obligingly took a sip.

Growing up, her meals were always planned by nutritionists, down to the calorie. Eating out had always been a rare occurrence. Most social invitations involving food were politely declined. She’d had hotpot once or twice at small family gatherings—but even then, she was mostly the one handling meat for the adults, never really tasting much herself. Soup? Forget it.

But Hua You had a strange kind of magic.
She was the kind of person who could make Bian Chengyi break her own rules—the kind who could make her willingly skip the nutritionist-approved diet just to sit at a bubbling hotpot table.

And more than that, Hua You had the rare ability to make something as simple as hotpot feel like a five-star experience.

“This yellow tripe is amazing… and the beef tripe—crisp, flavorful! But don’t overcook it—it needs no more than five seconds…”

Noticing Bian Chengyi had left hers in a little too long, Hua You expertly swapped it out—dropping a perfectly cooked piece of tripe into her bowl and taking the overdone one for herself.

“Here! Try mine and let Sister Bian experience what true mastery over the hotpot arts tastes like!”

Bian Chengyi hesitated for a moment—it wasn’t something she was used to eating. So far, she’d stuck to familiar meats and vegetables.

But once she took a bite…

She realized there were entire categories of deliciousness she’d been missing her whole life.

As Hua You continued tossing generous chunks of meat into the pot, she chatted without pause:

“You don’t eat this kind of stuff much, do you? No worries. I’ll take you to try all the best food next time.”

There was a note of genuine care in her tone—one Bian Chengyi heard clearly.

She coughed lightly.
“It’s not like I can’t eat it… just that my family’s strict. You eat more.”

Hua You poked her own cheek, frowning.
“Ugh, I feel like I’ve gained weight—living on snacks every day…”

Then, her voice dropped a little.
“Sister Bian… do you think I’ve gotten chubbier?”

Before she could even process the question herself, Bian Chengyi reached across the rising steam and pinched her cheek.

With complete seriousness, she shook her head.
“All I can feel is bone. You’re way too thin.”

She dropped a tender slice of beef into Hua You’s bowl.
“Eat more.”

Still dazed from the surprise pinch, Hua You stared into her bowl—now practically overflowing.

“Okay, stop, stop… you eat more, Class Rep Xishi! I swear, a gust of wind could knock you over. How are you even this tall?”

“My dear biology student,” Bian Chengyi said, exasperated but smiling, “surely you remember ALPHAs tend to be taller than OMEGAs? Perfectly normal.”

When Hua You still looked unimpressed, she added, “Eat more, and maybe you’ll grow too.”

Hua You’s eyes lit up.
“Really? Eighteen and I can still get taller?”

Then she pouted.
“You’re totally lying to me…”

As Hua You whined and laughed, the hotpot slowly neared its end. When the flame was finally turned off, she asked the waiter to bring over the little buttercream birthday cake she’d pre-ordered.

“Gotta have some ceremony for a birthday,” she said brightly. “Let’s not make them turn off the lights or sing or anything—just a candle will do!”

In the soft flicker of the flame, Hua You closed her eyes and made her wish.

Across from her, Bian Chengyi quietly watched her face.

What are you wishing for?

And someday… will you regret that you spent your eighteenth birthday with me, instead of someone else?

Hua You opened her eyes, face full of hope and certainty—as if her wish was destined to come true—and leaned forward to blow out the flame.

Then, grinning playfully, she scooped a little frosting and dabbed it on the corner of Bian Chengyi’s lips.

Bian Chengyi didn’t get upset at all. On the contrary, the moment Hua You’s fingertips brushed against her lips, a faint electric jolt ran through her. She gently licked off the frosting, savoring the sweetness.

Hua You went back to cutting the little cake—earnestly trying to split it into two equal halves.

“Let’s share it!” she said, holding out a slice with a hopeful smile.

And all Bian Chengyi could think was—

Next year, if we can still celebrate together…

I’ll buy you a huge, three-tiered cake.

On the way back, Bian Chengyi pretended to be watching the nighttime cityscape as it slid past the window.
In truth, she was secretly using the glass’s reflection to observe Hua You’s every little move.

Hua You had just finished a quick phone call with her father to let him know she was safe, and was now quietly fidgeting with her hands—clearly debating something in her head.

Eventually, she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Sister Bian…” she said softly.

“What is it?”
Bian Chengyi turned to her, her voice warm and patient.

“I was just wondering… aren’t you even a little curious about what I wished for?” Hua You asked, her tone light, but her eyes searching.

Outside the window, the crescent moon hung like a silver blade in the sky, casting delicate shadows of light across the pavement. In that blur of light and dark, Bian Chengyi’s lips curved faintly.

“I want to know.”

“Then why didn’t you ask me?” Hua You pouted, childlike in her confusion.

“If you wanted to tell me, you would,” Bian Chengyi replied gently. “Besides… unless you believe that old myth—that telling someone your wish makes it not come true—I figured you’d share it eventually.”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“Good,” Hua You said, balling her fist in mock determination. “Eighteenth birthday wishes have to come true. It’s practically a law. Certified by Nicholas Hua-Yousky!”

Bian Chengyi chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from Hua You’s cheek.

“Then… what did you wish for?”

“I wished…” Hua You grinned mischievously, her voice playful, “that after I turned eighteen, you’d give me a special nickname. Something just for me!”

She sounded proud of herself—like she’d made a smart, well-calculated move.

“I wonder,” she added, teasing, “will Sister Bian grant my wish?”

But Bian Chengyi was already caught in the undertow of emotion.

That’s your wish?
Something that small, and it’s about me?

Did she have any idea how important an eighteenth birthday wish was?

But of course, Bian Chengyi couldn’t bear to scold her for it—not when she was looking at her like that. Her voice was soft, affectionate:

“I always thought… your name was beautiful.”

“‘To worry before the people worry, and to rejoice after the people rejoice.’”
“‘You’—the beginning of joy.”

“Paired with the surname ‘Hua,’ it’s like something out of a misty, delicate poem.”

She propped her head on her hand, gazing directly into Hua You’s eyes, sincere and tender.

Hua You’s face turned red in an instant.

“Sister Bian! That’s not what I meant—I didn’t ask for a compliment on my name! I want a special nickname! One that’s just mine!”

“Cat.”

…Huh?

Hua You froze mid-sentence.
Bian Chengyi, however, looked completely serious.

“I want you to be like a kitten.”

“Always well-rested. Always fed and warm in the sun…”

“Always happy.”