I Became the Female Lead’s Current Obsession - Chapter 40

The second class the next morning was math.

The teacher was going over the test from the previous night, calling on students to come up and demonstrate how they solved the multiple-choice questions.

As a frequent “volunteer” for solving problems on the board, Hou Xue was once again honored to be called up.

Jiang Qing was staring blankly at her test paper, distracted, until the rustling sound of Hou Xue standing up pulled her back to reality. She blinked, lifted her head in a daze, and looked at Hou Xue.

“Where are you going…” Jiang Qing asked, her throat dry.

“You zoned out again?” Xu Miao turned around from the front row.

Ever since Jiang Qing had moved to sit beside Hou Xue, Xu Miao followed suit. Now, she sat next to the class rep, who was fully focused on studying—but even she couldn’t help being curious about the

conversations between the class’s first and second-ranked students, ears subtly perked.

“Yeah,” Jiang Qing murmured, eyes glued to Hou Xue. She saw her standing by the podium and couldn’t process what was happening. “What’s she doing?”

“Just solving a problem on the board,” Xu Miao replied. “Come on, it’s not that big a deal—don’t tell me you’re nervous just because she’s doing that?”

“Oh.” Jiang Qing responded softly. “Her left hand can’t make a fist—I’m worried she won’t be able to hold the test paper.”

“Didn’t you say her recovery was going well?”

After a few seconds, Jiang Qing slowly replied, “Yeah. She’s been doing rehab every day. Go back to reviewing—Mr. Yuan’s already looking over here.”

Xu Miao turned back around.

Jiang Qing kept her gaze on Hou Xue.

That figure on the podium hadn’t changed one bit from a few months ago—tall and sharp.

This was the person she liked.

She actually liked a kid. How funny was that?

Jiang Qing chuckled to herself, a bit silly-looking.

The math teacher had already been glancing in Jiang Qing’s direction. Seeing her now staring at the blackboard and grinning like a fool, he said, “Jiang Qing, come up and do question twenty-two.”

Jiang Qing stood up reflexively when called. Then she frowned and whispered to Xu Miao, “What did he say?”

“He asked you to solve question twenty-two,” Xu Miao replied immediately.

Jiang Qing nodded, still not understanding how she ended up doing the hardest question on the test.

Her mind foggy, she walked past Hou Xue, oddly nervous for those few steps, and ended up standing next to her.

While mechanically copying down the solution from the paper, Jiang Qing asked, “Is your hand okay?”

Hou Xue didn’t stop writing, just gave a light “Mm” in response.

“Oh.” Jiang Qing felt awkward but couldn’t stop talking. “It’s a waste to have you solve a dumb multiple choice.”

Hou Xue curled her lips into a faint smile. She found it amusing.

“So annoying, why is this so long?” Jiang Qing muttered under her breath.

“Mm.” Hou Xue’s writing slowed down a little, glancing at Jiang Qing’s progress.

Jiang Qing wanted to say more, but Mr. Yuan was getting closer, so she shut up and focused.

Though the steps for the final problem were complex, they weren’t enough to exhaust her physically—yet by the end, Jiang Qing’s hand was trembling, her handwriting growing shaky.

Damn, it’s like she was the one with the injured hand.

After copying everything, she stepped down, and Hou Xue finally finished and followed behind her.

That multiple-choice question was super easy—just five or six lines of basic logic—but Hou Xue had slowed her pace to match the time it took to solve the long-answer problem. Mr. Yuan, who was usually impressed by Hou Xue’s speed and accuracy, was briefly puzzled—until the realization hit.

She just wanted to walk back with her desk mate.

Such moving desk-mate friendship. The youthful bonds of high school… truly heartwarming.

Back in her seat, Jiang Qing collapsed onto the desk as if she’d just gone through something exhausting.

She’d only gotten one question wrong and one stuck last night when doing the test. Hou Xue had aced the entire thing, so Jiang Qing felt no pressure when chatting her up.

“Why’d you take so long on a multiple-choice?” Jiang Qing asked.

“Hm?” Hou Xue raised a brow.

“Oh…” Jiang Qing answered her own question, “You were waiting for me?”

Hou Xue didn’t respond.

“Are you shy?” Jiang Qing’s eyes were still directed at Mr. Yuan, who was energetically explaining the question, but her thoughts had drifted far away. “You’re so cute.”

Even Xu Miao sitting in front of them choked a little.

Calling Hou Xue “cute”? That was… wild.

“Am I?” Hou Xue said calmly. “Then you are too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—I’m not cute.” Jiang Qing leaned back in her chair, shifting her weight from the desk to the backrest, arms stretching out. Her forearm even casually rested on Hou Xue’s chair.

With her long limbs and lazy posture, she looked completely unrefined.

“Then don’t be cute,” Hou Xue replied.

“Mm. You’re so nice,” Jiang Qing smiled.

That smile was meant for Hou Xue—but to anyone else, it looked like Jiang Qing was simply beaming at the blackboard.

Mr. Yuan was touched.

Students nowadays really appreciated their teachers.

For the rest of the class, Jiang Qing kept chatting with Hou Xue, drifting from one topic to another—from their current math problems to the Big Bang theory to the evolution of unicellular organisms. There was zero logic connecting her trains of thought, yet she kept jumping from one to the next with ease. Hou Xue, instead of getting annoyed, indulged her and kept her company for the entire period.

Xu Miao got dragged into their pace and lost focus. Even the class rep, who had tried hard to stay focused, finally gave up and joined their chaotic conversation.

Everyone felt Jiang Qing had probably spoken more this one period than she did in a whole month. They figured she’d hit her energy limit—but surprisingly, she kept going, chattering all through the third-period

English and fourth-period Chinese classes like a tireless talking machine.

Hou Xue humored her at first. But when she noticed Jiang Qing’s voice getting hoarser without slowing down, and that silly grin still stuck on her face, she started to worry—Jiang Qing didn’t look completely conscious.

At noon, as they were packing up for lunch, Hou Xue finally interrupted her.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

Jiang Qing paused for two seconds.

“What do you mean?”

Hou Xue didn’t reply. She reached out and touched Jiang Qing’s forehead.

As expected, it was burning hot.

“You have a fever. Didn’t you notice?”

Jiang Qing went blank.

“Nope. I feel fine,” she said after a while. “Pretty energetic, actually.”

Hou Xue laughed—but it was a laugh tinged with worry.

“Why that serious face? You were all smiles just now.” Jiang Qing suddenly looped an arm around Hou Xue’s waist and hooked her leg inward, holding Hou Xue in place. “You were happy, weren’t you?”

This was the most Jiang Qing had ever said to her. Of course Hou Xue felt happy. But knowing it was only because Jiang Qing was sick made it hard to feel anything good.

Looking down, she could only see the top of Jiang Qing’s head.

Now that Jiang Qing was hugging her, she could feel just how feverish every part of her body was.

“You’re sick. Let’s go home, okay?”

“Jiang Qing’s sick?” Xu Miao asked.

Hou Xue nodded. “She’s got a bit of a fever.” She gently touched Jiang Qing’s head again.

Xu Miao looked away, exasperated.

She always felt something strange about the way these stepsisters interacted. But she couldn’t put it into words—it was suffocating.

“I—” Before she could finish, Hou Xue waved her off. “Don’t worry, Xu Miao-jie. I’ll take Jiang Qing home.”

It was the first time Hou Xue had called her “jie” (older sister). The impact was strong. Xu Miao said nothing more and left for the cafeteria.

Her heart sank. Other people lose friends when they get boyfriends—but in her case, her friend was getting replaced by her own stepsister?

The classroom had mostly emptied.

Hou Xue gently squeezed Jiang Qing’s shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

“I’m hungry. I want food.”

“I’ll cook for you at home, okay? What do you want?” Hou Xue’s voice was so soft, it felt like she was handling a precious gem—too delicate for harsh words.

“Why are you talking to me like I’m a kid?” Jiang Qing mumbled. “…You’re the younger one.”

“Younger by that much? How much younger?” Hou Xue narrowed her eyes.

Jiang Qing seemed to regain some clarity and realized that wasn’t something she should’ve said, so she didn’t answer.

Hou Xue didn’t push her. Right now, Jiang Qing’s fever was more important than any strange slip-up.

“Then can you let go for a bit?”

“Don’t want to. Hugging you feels nice,” Jiang Qing said righteously.

“But if you don’t let go, how can we go home?” Hou Xue patiently reasoned. “I’ll hug you again once we’re home, okay?”

“Okay.” Jiang Qing let go and looked up at her. “Even your jawline is pretty.”

“Such a good girl.” Hou Xue ruffled Jiang Qing’s hair, unable to hide the tenderness in her gaze.

“You’re taking advantage of me,” Jiang Qing squinted. “Say something nice, quick.”

“Jiejie.” Hou Xue called her “big sister” without hesitation.

“You’re forgiven.” Jiang Qing hooked her pinky around Hou Xue’s. “Let’s go home.”

Jiang Qing had always known that when her mind was muddled, she became a chatterbox.

Even now, she wasn’t fully clear-headed. But the strange thing was that moments like this often blurred in her memory, much like someone blacking out after drinking—only hazy fragments remained. As a result,

Jiang Qing had no idea she’d praised Hou Xue’s long, pale fingers, complimented her pure and beautiful face, or shamelessly gushed over her with all kinds of “rainbow farts.” She had completely ruined her image and ended up clinging to Hou Xue, begging to be held to sleep. The elegant persona she’d built? Shattered.

Still, there were some things Jiang Qing did remember—like taking medicine.

“Qingqing, take your medicine,” Hou Xue stood at the bedside, gently tugging at the quilt.

“I don’t want to,” Jiang Qing pouted like a child.

“It’ll help with your fever and discomfort.” Hou Xue’s voice was so soothing that Jiang Qing suspected it was the reason she remembered this moment at all—she simply couldn’t forget a voice like that.

“Feed me, and I’ll take it.”

Hou Xue sat down, brushing her hand lightly across Jiang Qing’s cheek.

“Then, Qingqing, how should I feed you?”

…

Jiang Qing now lay in bed, mortified.

It was the crushing sense of clarity after a drunken episode. She remembered just enough to die of embarrassment. Worst of all, when she woke up, she had been wrapped tightly around Hou Xue, like she wanted to melt into her.

And that oversized bed Jiang Bin bought? Totally wasted.
________________________________________

Hou Xue was a light sleeper. She felt Jiang Qing move her hand and woke up instantly, though she kept her eyes shut, pretending to sleep.

She’d woken alone earlier, Jiang Qing nowhere in sight. No fever today. She hadn’t even come back all night.

Hou Xue never thought of herself as particularly virtuous.

Last night, when Jiang Qing had been dazed and vulnerable, she’d hesitated—torn between concern and curiosity.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what Jiang Qing had almost revealed that morning. It felt like the only chance she’d had to uncover something hidden.

She was desperate for answers—about Jiang Qing, about her identity, about everything.

So, she leaned in and whispered: “What’s your name?”

“Jiang Qing,” came the sleepy reply.

“Do you have any other names?”

“If I’m not Jiang Qing, what should I be called…?” Jiang Qing turned over, grumbling, “You’re so noisy.”

She was Jiang Qing.

That name didn’t belong to the second daughter of the Jiang family. It belonged to her.

Hou Xue silently repeated the name in her mind—Qingqing—and asked again, her voice softer this time, “Qingqing, are you the second daughter of the Jiang family? Jiang Bin’s daughter?”

“…What are you talking about? My father’s not named Jiang Bin.”

Hou Xue’s throat tightened.

Even though she’d suspected the truth, hearing Jiang Qing say it herself felt entirely different.

“Then—” she was about to continue, but Jiang Qing suddenly opened her eyes. Hou Xue quickly changed the subject, “Are you thirsty?”

Jiang Qing didn’t respond. After a while, she just gave a dry cough and shut her eyes again.

Hou Xue dared not press further. She couldn’t tell if Jiang Qing had truly been confused—or was only pretending.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Still no answer. Only the soft, even sound of breathing.

“Get well soon.” Hou Xue whispered bitterly, leaning in to brush a faint kiss where Jiang Qing’s hairline met her forehead. “Qingqing.”

It was deep into the night. No one saw.

It was a secret only Hou Xue would ever know.