I Became the Female Lead’s Current Obsession - Chapter 39

Jiang Qing had never been in a relationship.

In her past life, she lived to the age of twenty-four—single for all twenty-four years.

Not because she lacked the qualities or opportunities, but simply because she didn’t want to invest in it.

To invest in an intimate relationship.

She always felt her time was better spent on research or maintaining her vast social network.

Many of Jiang Qing’s friends used to say she balanced her relationships with admirable fairness.

Jiang Qing herself never felt that way. She’d just smile and brush off the topic.

She had always believed she wasn’t suited for love.

Love implied responsibility and exclusivity. To Jiang Qing, that felt more like a burden than sweetness.

She also thought twenty-four was too young. At that stage in life, investing in a relationship didn’t seem wise.

She shouldn’t have been tied down so early.

Jiang Qing treated emotions seriously, though not rigidly.

It wasn’t that she rejected love entirely—it just wasn’t a current need. She didn’t want to waste her own time or someone else’s for no reason.

She wasn’t chasing a “first love equals forever” fantasy, either. Quite the opposite—she believed in accumulating experience, believing that only with time could one offer the best version of love to another.

Though she wasn’t emotionally inclined, she wasn’t naive. She understood the theory of it all.

The spark. The longing. The constant thoughts…

And Jiang Qing was certain—when Hou Xue licked her finger in front of her, kissing her was not the only thing she wanted to do.

Jiang Qing had once felt a fleeting urge to touch Hou Xue’s lips. The impulse passed so quickly she wasn’t even sure it had truly existed—certainly not something worth fixating on.

Still, something about it lingered.

The feeling was new. Unfamiliar. And to Jiang Qing, the very presence of such thoughts meant that Hou Xue, on some subconscious level, wasn’t just a younger sister or a friend.

But theory was theory.

Jiang Qing had never been in love, never had a crush—so fundamentally, she couldn’t even recognize what “liking” someone meant right away.

She had been on a long mental marathon.

The track was long, the endpoint invisible, and a fog surrounded her.

But today, the fog cleared. And she saw the finish line.

It wasn’t far. It was within reach.

Normally, Jiang Qing would analyze everything from her own perspective, and then decide whether to take a step forward.

But the moment she realized—there was a possibility she liked Hou Xue…

Everything had to be reconsidered.

Because emotions—can’t be controlled.

She had never thought about dating a high schooler. Never even considered falling for another girl.

Now she didn’t know what to do.

Does Hou Xue like her back?

Jiang Qing had believed she was in control—that she was the one leading the dynamic—but reality was showing her how uncomposed and unsure she truly was.

The last person Jiang Qing cared about this deeply—was her mother.

But even with her mother, Jiang Qing had never been so timid. Her love then was more about duty and quiet care—not fear. She had always handled it with perfect balance.

But with Hou Xue… it was different.

For her, Jiang Qing had hesitated, avoided, lost control.

And now, she was afraid.

When someone falls into the trap of feelings, their eyes are covered. Surrounded by darkness and uncertainty, they can’t even grasp the obvious answer.

She was afraid—because a wrong step could mean heartbreak.

After Hou Xue returned to her room, Jiang Qing kept thinking about it.

Especially because her mind kept replaying Hou Xue’s gestures from just hours earlier—as if constantly reminding her that something had already begun.

Jiang Qing tossed and turned in bed. Eventually, she got up, went to the living room, and fetched a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Jiang Xing’s cigarette pack was always left in the same spot. Jiang Qing returned to her room, stepped onto the balcony, closed the door behind her, and let the night breeze wash over her.

Click. In the darkness, a tiny spark flared to life.

Jiang Qing wasn’t addicted to smoking, but she did smoke occasionally.

She didn’t do it often—mostly because she disliked the smell clinging to her clothes. No matter the brand, cigarette smoke never smelled good.

She disliked the smell on others and naturally didn’t want it on herself.

The cigarette was an ordinary one. No different from the ones she’d smoked before.

She had expected Jiang Xing, with his personality, to smoke something stronger. The brand was unfamiliar, so she paid attention to the first puff.

It was early autumn.

The night breeze was gentle and cool—enough to blow away the lingering smoke.

Her hair was still a little damp, strands falling in front of her eyes, swaying with the wind.

The cigarette’s ember glowed red but lit up nothing. No one could see the scene unfolding on the second-floor balcony.

Jiang Qing smoked slowly, without focus.

This body probably had never smoked before—her first few drags were awkward. But by the third cigarette, things improved. She started to feel more like herself again—and her thoughts began to settle.

In hindsight, Hou Xue had always been special.

Even from the very first time they met—there was something different.

People tend to favor beauty. Jiang Qing was no exception.

At first, she couldn’t take her eyes off Hou Xue simply because she was pretty—or so she’d thought.

But truthfully, it was that disconnection from the world, the quiet loneliness cloaked in youthful intensity, the contradictory, almost artistic aura Hou Xue carried—that captivated her entirely.

She was unforgettable from the first glance.

Jiang Qing closed her eyes briefly.

It was a pity they hadn’t spoken that first time.

But then again, if they had, she might have blurted out something ridiculous—like “You’re beautiful” or “You look like a painting.”

Jiang Qing was twenty-four when she transmigrated. Not old, but undeniably more mature. And now, back in a seventeen or eighteen-year-old’s body, she felt young again.

Youth was beautiful.

She could live a different way this time.

In her past life, she built up a persona—mostly to reassure her mother. But now she didn’t have to.

She no longer had to exhaust herself meeting others’ expectations.

Jiang Bin didn’t care. The Jiang family didn’t need her. She was free—to do what she wanted and pursue what she desired.

It might seem like transmigrating into the body of a “villainess” was restrictive. But wasn’t it, in fact, a rebirth?

A second chance at life.

She was back in high school, walking the path again—a dream many longed for but never got.

Even if there was a script to follow—so what? Now, she had the chance to change the story.

And most importantly, this time, she had met Hou Xue.

Someone who made her smile just by thinking about her.

Jiang Qing took another puff and unlocked her phone, opening the app Snowman.

“I’ve made a decision.”

“What is it?” The reply came instantly.

Jiang Qing smiled. She took a drag and typed again.

“I’ve suspected something for a while now.”

“What is it?”

“You’re not a robot, are you?”

Hou Xue’s hand froze over the keyboard.

Had she figured it out?

“What does ‘Licht’ mean?”

“Not going to admit it?”

The little snowman’s response was delayed. After a long pause, Jiang Qing’s phone vibrated with a message:

“……”

Jiang Qing put out her cigarette.

So insincere.

“You’re way too smart. You’d definitely pass the Turing Test.”

Hou Xue frowned, trying to think of a believable cover.

“You’re just a plugin for a mini-game. If you were really that intelligent, it’d be terrifying, don’t you think?”

Hou Xue gave up.

“Mm.”

Was she mad? But this time, it didn’t feel like it.

“Then why not introduce yourself?”

Jiang Qing was pleased. She hadn’t expected it to be this easy—she’d been prepared to argue.

She had long suspected the little snowman was more intelligent than it should be. Except for the deliberately programmed phrases, chatting with it was no different than with a real person.

If anything, it felt like the other party was a gentle, comforting soul—perfect for confiding in.

It wasn’t the “Hou Xue” identity that had been discovered—more like the fact that she wasn’t actually a robot.

Hou Xue typed tentatively:

“I’m a programmer who developed this game.”

“Wow, I’m honored you’ve spent so much time chatting with me. Must be a busy job.”

“Not really.”

So serious. Amusingly so.

That tone—Jiang Qing had always liked it. That was probably why the snowman plugin had held her attention for so long.

“Why so formal? How old are you?”

Hou Xue typed “twenty”, then deleted it. Finally, she wrote:

“Thirty.”

She didn’t know why—but instinct told her Jiang Qing would prefer an older person.

Thirty? Maybe that seriousness wasn’t an act after all.

“Then you’re six years older than me. I’m twenty-four.”

Twenty-four.

Hou Xue’s heart skipped a beat.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

Twenty-four—that must be her real age.

Something she kept from Hou Xue in real life, but so easily revealed to someone behind a screen.

Hou Xue exhaled, already thinking how she might extract more information.

“Haha, you don’t seem thirty either. You come across as younger.”

Jiang Qing was relaxed.

The person on the other side of the screen had no ties to the Jiang family’s second daughter, no connection to the plot, nothing complicated.

Back when she thought it was just a robot, she never let herself open up like this—talking to a machine always felt a little pathetic, even weird.

But if the other person was human—it suddenly became just an ordinary online conversation.

“Sorry.”

Hou Xue’s apology was vague, her real feelings hidden beneath politeness.

“Why did you pretend to be a robot at first?”

“I thought you’d find it weird.”

“Well… it is a bit odd to sneak that into a mini-game.”

“Would you mind sharing the reason? I’m just curious.”

“Practicing this type of interactive format.”

Lies were harder to spot through a screen.

“I see. Balancing your job and acting like a chatbot—must be tough.”

“Not really. You’re the only one.”

“Just me? What an honor. So, have I contributed anything to your testing?”

“You have. Thank you.”

“It was wrong of me to keep it from you. I’d like to make it up to you.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t mean any harm. But if you do want to make it up to me…”

“Yes?”

“Let’s keep things as they are. I think this is kinda fun.”

Hou Xue froze. She had been wracking her brain trying to come up with a way to stay in touch—and now, Jiang Qing had asked for it herself.

A gift from the heavens.

“Okay.”

“By the way… are you a guy or a girl?”

“Girl.”

“Okay, programmer-jiejie.”

Hou Xue didn’t respond right away. She stared at the message, dazed.

It hit her harder than she expected.

“You don’t like being called jiejie? Then how about ‘programmer miss’?”

Hou Xue immediately responded.

“No, jiejie is fine.”

“Alright then.”

Jiang Qing was in a great mood. Calling someone “jiejie” a few times didn’t bother her—in fact, considering the programmer had tolerated her for so long, it felt like a fair trade.

Besides, based on her experience, older people liked being called “jiejie” or “gege.” There was a joy to it.

Jiang Qing was no exception—every time Hou Xue called her “jiejie,” she practically lit up inside.

Human interaction is about knowing what makes someone smile.

Jiang Qing exited the app. She wasn’t in a rush to learn everything about the woman behind the screen—there was plenty of time. No need to dig deep all at once. Slow and steady builds stronger connections.

The wind picked up again.

Jiang Qing walked into the room with the remaining half-pack of cigarettes, set what she was holding down on the desk, and lowered her head to sniff her clothes. Sensing no unpleasant odor, she climbed back into bed, closed her eyes, and quickly drifted off to sleep again.

Her feelings were straightforward—she was certain she liked Hou Xue. But to her, that was simply a matter of personal preference.