Healing the Black Lotus Female Supporting Character (Transmigration into a Book - ABO) - Chapter 9

“Huh?”

Hua You blinked, caught off guard. And in that brief moment, Bian Chengyi had already taken the test papers from her hands.

Well… wasn’t that obvious?

Hua You tilted her head slightly, looking up at Bian Chengyi’s paper-white complexion. Her eyes dropped a little, catching the girl’s slender frame, the way her uniform hung a bit loosely. A glimpse of her wrist beneath the long sleeves—it was thin, almost like a lotus root, too delicate.

Sensing the scrutiny in Hua You’s gaze, Bian Chengyi’s expression shifted faintly. “If I remember correctly, my last P.E. grade was still an A.”

“I-Is that… right?” Hua You strained her memory, flipping through what the original “her” had known. Turns out—yeah, it was true.

So much for the nickname “Xi Shi Class Rep.” That image clearly only scratched the surface.

“That nickname was Fang Jinyu’s idea,” Bian Chengyi said calmly, as if reading Hua You’s thoughts. “You always thought it was ridiculous, didn’t you?”

“I think it sounds really nice!” Hua You blurted, clearly flustered. She suddenly remembered all her “past glories.” “Actually, I used to envy you. That’s why I said those things.”

“You envied me?” Bian Chengyi asked.

“Of course! Why don’t I have a nickname?” Hua You suddenly became righteously indignant. After all, the two of them were widely considered the prettiest girls in Class 3, Grade 12. Even poems had been written about them. So why didn’t she get a title, huh?

Bian Chengyi smiled—just slightly, so subtly it almost didn’t register. Her tone was still indifferent:
“Little Tyrant.”

Wait, what?!

Before Hua You could react, Bian Chengyi—clearly in good spirits—pushed open the classroom door and began distributing the papers. The room quieted instantly.

After sitting through two major subject exams in the morning, Hua You felt dizzy. The tests were easy for her, sure—but the sleep deprivation was hitting her hard. Unlike the original Hua You, she had never truly lived the grind of senior year.

So when the lunch bell rang, she nearly jumped out of her seat in relief. She was one breath away from shouting Hallelujah.

She finished her papers far too early, and the extra time was mostly spent napping. Of course, to the invigilating teachers, it just looked like she had given up entirely—they assumed she simply couldn’t answer the questions.

When it came time to pass the test papers forward, she poked Qin Jing a few times—no reaction.

Hua You raised her voice just enough: “Hey, bell rang. Stop writing. Pass the paper.”

The nearby students looked up. Only then did Qin Jing reluctantly hand over the papers. But not before sneaking several glances at Hua You’s test—her expression unreadable, almost shocked.

Then Qin Jing turned to her, lips pressed together. “Let’s talk. Come have lunch with me.”

Her tone softened at the end—almost like a truce.

Typical little girl behavior—possessive, overbearing, but trying to hold on.
Qin Jing’s pettiness had always been out in the open. It wasn’t malicious, just petty. But Hua You couldn’t stand people who talked behind others’ backs.

She knew that dynamic all too well. She’d always been the subject of gossip. Always the one at the center of someone’s whisper. So even if Qin Jing’s behavior was something small, something even friends might do as a form of social survival… it still disgusted her.

“Back then,” Hua You said softly, shaking her head, “we only became friends because we disliked the same people.”

“But when it really matters… would you trust me? Would I trust you?”

In the novel, after the original Hua You died, Qin Jing acted like being her former friend was shameful. She had done decently well on the college entrance exam, and used to find confidence in comparing herself to Hua You’s grades. After the results came out, she pretended Hua You had never existed. The author wrote this to emphasize the tragedy of a cannon-fodder side character.

But from her own point of view now—when someone you gave your heart to never saw you sincerely—it was chilling.

Qin Jing clearly hadn’t expected Hua You to say something like that.

“So… you mean you won’t ever eat with me again?” she asked, seeking confirmation.

“Mm.” Hua You nodded firmly. She didn’t like being vague, didn’t want to leave people false hope. “You can keep treating me however you want. Honestly, I don’t really care. But I hope you’ll at least see me as just a regular classmate.”

Qin Jing’s priorities, of course, were entirely different: “So who will you eat with? Bian Chengyi?”

The last part came with a hint of sarcasm.

By now, the classroom had mostly emptied out.

And Hua You knew very well—Bian Chengyi hadn’t waited for her. She’d already gotten up and left, who knows when.

“Do you need two people to have lunch?” Hua You replied, half-laughing.

Finally, Hua You grabbed her lunch card, stood up decisively, and headed toward the door.

It wasn’t like she’d never eaten alone before—she figured she’d long gotten used to it.

Besides, in this book’s world, the only person she truly needed to care about was Bian Chengyi. Everyone else… didn’t really matter. As long as she could resolve Bian Chengyi’s emotional knot, she could fulfill her mission.

Stepping out of the academic building, Hua You stretched under the soft March sunlight.

Just as she was debating whether to try her luck at the campus store and look for Bian Chengyi, the system dropped a temporary mission:

Temporary Mission: Find a stray cat on campus and name it together with the secondary female lead, Bian Chengyi.

Temporary missions always served to boost affection points.
Well then, she thought—now she had to look for both a person and a cat.

Hua You had always loved cats. She’d never been great with people, but she had endless patience for animals. She remembered staying with relatives once—there’d been a little calico cat. She and that cat would stare at each other for hours, neither moving. Later, when she moved to another home, she cried her eyes out.

The adults thought she was upset about leaving people behind and praised her for being sentimental.

But in truth, it was the cat she couldn’t bear to part with.

For now, her top priority was still finding Bian Chengyi. Hua You figured she probably wouldn’t eat in the cafeteria alone—more likely, she was on her way back from the snack shop. So she started walking down the usual route between the building and the shop, keeping an eye out for any cats along the way.

And sure enough—this campus was full of small animals. She hadn’t walked far before she found one.

A little white cat.

Well… “white” was generous. The poor thing had rolled around in the dirt so much it was more of a dusty gray. Its eyes were round and jet-black, and it sat there on the ground, calmly staring up at Hua You.

All thoughts of finding Bian Chengyi immediately vanished. Hua You crouched down, meeting its gaze.

That was the scene Bian Chengyi saw when she came back with a bag of bread:
Hua You and the kitten, locked in a staring contest. The cat tilted its head up slightly, showing no fear, only intense curiosity. And Hua You, after a few seconds, reached out carefully to touch the top of its head.

The cat flopped onto the ground as if in bliss, even yawning as it stretched. Hua You gently stroked its fur, her eyes brimming with joy and affection—genuine happiness and love.

So that’s the look…

Hearing someone approach, Hua You turned her head. In that moment, all the warmth in her eyes vanished.

Realizing her expression had slipped, she quickly smiled again.
“Sister Bian.”

No… that wasn’t the right smile.

Bian Chengyi stepped forward, the bag of bread in one hand. With the other—the free one—she raised her fingers to Hua You’s face and gently lifted the corners of her lips with her thumb and index finger.
“You should smile like this.”

Looking at Hua You’s slightly dazed, confused expression, Bian Chengyi suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of disheartenment.

It was her own fault.

Hua You hated her.

That fact, forged over two long years, was undeniable.

Bian Chengyi realized now—she must’ve been completely intoxicated by the peach blossom-scented pheromones. She’d deluded herself into thinking that all that stood between them was a few petty grudges.

In her past life, just before her death, Bian Chengyi had recalled countless memories—good and bad—and Hua You had taken up a significant portion of the bad, even though she had died long before Bian Chengyi did.

By all accounts, she should have been more forgiving toward Hua You.

But in the end, all she could feel was that bone-deep sense of aversion.

This life, though… something felt different.

More precisely, it started from that moment—when Hua You reached out and grabbed her hand.

In their previous life, Hua You had never deliberately made physical contact with her.

The same face… Could it really house a different soul?

Or maybe… was it possible she now saw Bian Chengyi in a new light?

Bian Chengyi let out a quiet sigh. She reached out her hand again, and Hua You, as if instinctively understanding, took it naturally and stood up.

She really was different now.

The old Hua You—even if she were hanging off a cliff and Bian Chengyi reached out—would have only given her a cold glance and said,
“Spare me your fake kindness.”

Could pheromones… really change someone this much?

By the time they were speaking, the cat had already jumped away. Hua You turned around to look—there was only an empty patch of ground left, fresh spring grass poking through.

With a slightly wistful look, she asked,
“I think… wasn’t it called Bai Bai?”

Bian Chengyi followed her gaze.
“Bai Bai, Xiao Bai, Xiao Hui… there are lots of names. Every student calls it something different. I don’t think it’s ever had an official name.”

Hua You remembered the temporary mission.
“Then what would you call it, Sister Bian?”

Bian Chengyi didn’t answer right away.

Then she said,
“Hua Hua.”

“Huh? What?” Hua You looked up, a strange feeling stirring in her chest. Bian Chengyi had never used such a close, affectionate tone with her before.

And suddenly… she realized.

Bian Chengyi wore a victorious smile.

She smiled like moonlight—gentle, ethereal, yet without any real warmth. A kind of false softness that didn’t provide heat, but still made people instinctively want to get closer.

To see whether her heart was truly as cold as the moon.

“Hua Hua,” she repeated, deliberately drawing out the syllables.
“That’s what I’ll call it—Hua Hua. It’s a little calico cat, after all.”

Hua You looked like she was about to cry.
“Are you serious? That’s clearly a white cat! Can’t we pick something else? If you call it that, it feels way too weird!”

“Hua Hua,” Bian Chengyi said again with absolute certainty.
“That’s its name.”

“Then I’m picking one too!” Hua You declared.

“Don’t tell me… it’s going to be Xiao Yi,” Bian Chengyi said, already half-expecting her response.

But to her surprise, Hua You’s smile turned mischievous.

“Ming Zi! That’s the name!”

She raised her voice dramatically,
“Look at its eyes—so bright and glossy, totally worthy of ‘ming mou shan lai’ [bright eyes, graceful gaze]. And it’s beautiful too, definitely a match for ‘gui zi yan yi’ [radiant bearing, elegant form]!”