I Became the Female Lead’s Current Obsession - Chapter 9

Just looking at the practice papers gave Jiang Qing a headache. But even she could tell that the key points in these mock exams were all the ones Hou Xue had marked in her notes.

Jiang Qing understood well that the female lead always strived for perfection. This involved her future too, so even if she felt overwhelmed, there was no room for complaints.

While Jiang Qing was sweating over the test papers, Hou Xue was flying through her own homework at an inhuman speed, even pausing now and then to reply to messages on her phone.

Just as Jiang Qing finished two English practice tests, Hou Xue’s phone rang. She stood up and said, “Sorry, I need to take this call.”

“Oh,” Jiang Qing muttered, head down as she continued writing, though her thoughts began drifting to the task she had given Jiang Xing the night before.

As if on cue, her phone screen lit up.

Sure enough—it was a message from Jiang Xing.

She unlocked it and saw that he had sent a long string of product model numbers. Jiang Qing wasn’t tech-savvy, so she simply replied with a “Thanks,” copied the list, and pasted it elsewhere.

“Miao Miao, can I ask you for a favor?”

Xu Miao’s family was in the electronics business—this kind of thing was no big deal for her. It was precisely for this reason that Jiang Qing had thought about getting Hou Xue a computer in the first place.

“What’s up?”

Xu Miao replied instantly, attaching a confused white kitten sticker.

Xu Miao always replied in seconds. She was almost always online.

Reliable—that’s what Jiang Qing called that.

She sent over the copied specs and typed:

“I want to put together a computer. The components I want are on this list.”

“You interested in computers now, Xiao Qing?”

Xu Miao asked.

Jiang Qing hesitated for a moment but figured there was nothing worth hiding.

“…Actually, it’s for Hou Xue.”

Xu Miao took almost two minutes this time before replying, trimming and editing her words:

“Don’t you think you’re being a little too nice to her?”

“We had some misunderstandings before,” Jiang Qing typed, then added, “And I’m getting her the computer because—”

Before she could finish the sentence, Hou Xue suddenly walked back in.

Startled, Jiang Qing immediately exited the chat, swiped up to delete the conversation history, and locked her phone. She quickly grabbed her pen, lowered her head, and pretended to be focused on her work.

Hou Xue had witnessed everything. She raised a brow and concealed a smile behind her eyes as she walked over and picked up Jiang Qing’s phone. “Confiscated, for now.”

Jiang Qing didn’t say a word. She continued writing, looking slightly deflated.

She had been secretly messaging—for Hou Xue’s sake—only to have her phone taken away. It felt ridiculously unfair.

Time passed quickly. Jiang Qing only managed to finish one more test paper before Hou Xue stepped out again to take another call—this time, taking Jiang Qing’s phone with her.

She seemed quite busy today.

Jiang Qing felt a little guilty. She didn’t dare let her mind wander again and focused hard, determined to grasp the material so she wouldn’t delay the female lead’s grand plans.

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Hou Xue spent nearly twenty minutes on the phone this time, trying to explain things to someone from a company. It was a bit of a hassle, but the result was acceptable.

As she was about to return to the room, her hand paused on the doorknob.

She lowered her eyes and thought for a moment, then leaned back against the wall.

From her pocket, she took out a black smartphone.

It had no lock screen. She swiped up and unlocked it, flipping through the apps one by one.

Her actions were driven by curiosity, but also by a desire to test her. To Hou Xue, her fake stepsister was now an intriguing mystery—someone who piqued her interest.

Surprisingly, the phone showed very little sign of addiction to apps. It was clean, with mostly default system tools. Still, it was clear the owner had some obsessive tendencies—they’d arranged the apps by color gradient.

Amused, Hou Xue smiled unconsciously.

The first two pages were normal, but on the third, her gaze fell on a white icon in the first row.

It was a cute little snowman.

Instantly, Hou Xue’s smile disappeared. Her expression turned cold and unreadable—like an entirely different person from before.

Her grip on the phone tightened until her fingers turned white. Only then did she loosen it slightly.

She tapped on the app.

The screen opened to a grassy green field, light snow falling.

Jiang Qing hadn’t started playing Snowman yet.

Hou Xue navigated to the profile page and memorized her username:

Licht.

Light.

After that, she put the phone back in her pocket, composed herself in a matter of seconds, and walked back into the room.

Jiang Qing was working on a math paper, scribbling on scratch paper, seemingly unbothered by Hou Xue’s return.

Hou Xue returned to her seat and placed both phones side by side on the desk.

But this time, she didn’t immediately start writing. She stared at her homework, unmoving.

She couldn’t stop wondering—why did Jiang Qing download Snowman?

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When Jiang Qing finished the paper, she noticed something off about Hou Xue.

Although her expression remained calm, Jiang Qing could still sense something had changed.

Her first thought was that maybe something had gone wrong with the female lead’s career. After all, she’d only taken a phone call—yet she’d come back oddly distracted.

But then Jiang Qing realized the problem might be her.

No matter how composed Hou Xue would be in the future, she was still just a high school student now. And no matter what, Jiang Qing had been through the ups and downs of adult life—she wasn’t clueless.

Hou Xue was acting distant.

It was a strange feeling. Despite her usual cool demeanor, Jiang Qing could clearly sense the subtle withdrawal.

The last time she’d felt this kind of coldness was the day after she became Hou Xue’s stepsister—when she tried to catch a ride home and got coldly brushed off.

Since then, things had been smooth. Hou Xue had never rejected her, nor treated her with that same ice.

It had almost fooled Jiang Qing into thinking that Hou Xue was naturally gentle—at least during her school days.

Jiang Qing’s hands felt a little cold. A draft seemed to slip through some unseen crack, stabbing through her skin, all the way to her bones.

It was cold.

But what on earth was Hou Xue upset about?

Her mood plummeted. The rest of the test papers felt dull and lifeless. She pushed through two sets of biology tests in over an hour, then set them in front of Hou Xue.

“I’m done,” she said weakly. “Anything else?”

Hou Xue didn’t answer. She just picked up a red pen and began grading.

Neither of them spoke. Jiang Qing stared blankly at the wall, while Hou Xue quietly marked the papers.

Jiang Qing thought about asking for her phone back, but Hou Xue’s unexplainable attitude made her hesitate.

When the last check mark was drawn, Hou Xue finally responded.

“You did quite well.” Then she slid her own workbook in front of Jiang Qing. “Check the answers. Ask if you don’t understand something.”

“Okay,” Jiang Qing mumbled, not wanting to say a word more. She had no energy, and the less she said, the fewer mistakes she might make.

Even though she had asked Hou Xue for help, she hadn’t done anything to offend her—at least, not since she transmigrated. Yet now she was being treated like the original body’s scapegoat again.

Just moments ago, she’d been planning a surprise to make Hou Xue happy—now she was being snubbed. Anyone would be frustrated.

Jiang Qing opened her school bag. While rummaging, her hand brushed against a small metal box.

She paused, then pulled it out.

The packaging was understated yet elegant.

It was the chocolate Xu Miao had given her. Yesterday had been so chaotic that she’d completely forgotten about it. Thankfully, despite the heat, it hadn’t melted.

Ironically, she had originally planned to share it with Hou Xue.

Jiang Qing smiled wryly and unwrapped it. There weren’t many pieces inside, but each was exquisitely shaped and wrapped in gold foil.

Dark chocolate.

She casually picked one up, unwrapped half of it, and held it out to Hou Xue.

“Want a taste?”

Jiang Qing knew that Hou Xue liked sweets, especially milk chocolate.

Chocolate showed up often in the original novel. The female lead had a particular fondness for milk chocolate—and later, she gave up all restraint when it came to sweets.

Sugar triggered dopamine, and that seemed to be the only thing that made Hou Xue feel alive.

Technically, she didn’t like dark chocolate.

Hou Xue stared at Jiang Qing for a long moment.

It was rare for her to observe someone so closely.

Jiang Qing’s pale arm had a tiny mole on the inside, and beneath it, faint bluish veins showed—fragile-looking.

When she bit into the dark chocolate, Hou Xue frowned.

The bitterness was sharp, with a trace of acidity that spread across her tongue. She rolled the chocolate to the left side of her mouth, its sticky texture trailing into her throat.

The sweetness came late, blooming on the palate like the final note of a perfume—lingering and rich.

It was completely different from milk chocolate.

Hou Xue suddenly chuckled, realizing how impulsive she’d been.

She pulled a piece of candy from her jeans pocket, unwrapped it, and held it to Jiang Qing’s lips.

“Candy. It’s sweet.”

Jiang Qing was momentarily stunned by her smile.

She didn’t usually like sweets—she preferred the dry bitterness of dark chocolate to the cloying sweetness of fruit-flavored candy.

This one was orange-flavored.

Sour and sweet.

It started off sharp but mellowed into sweetness if you gave it time.

Jiang Qing realized she’d deliberately chosen dark chocolate to provoke Hou Xue, and now it just felt childish.

But no matter how Hou Xue saw “Jiang Qing,” she herself already saw Hou Xue as a friend.

Relationships can influence people for better or worse—like this orange candy: it could be sour, it could be sweet.

But all Jiang Qing could feel was the sourness. Where was the sweet?

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Their first tutoring session ended with both of them harboring their own thoughts, neither completely satisfied.

Still, they didn’t slack off. Hou Xue kept her word, and Jiang Qing didn’t joke around when it came to her studies.

When Hou Xue left, she took another piece of dark chocolate. In return, she placed a piece of candy wrapped in pink paper on the table.

Jiang Qing stared at the candy for a long while, then unwrapped it and put it in her mouth.

Sweetness spread through every corner—thick and syrupy, the unique sweetness of peach. Jiang Qing didn’t really like the flavor. She missed the sharp, bright taste of the orange one.

She smoothed the wrapper and pulled out another crumpled piece of paper from her pencil case, flattening it too.

Both papers were creased. Hou Xue’s handwriting had slightly warped with the folds.

Jiang Qing glanced at them, then casually tucked both into the drawer on her right.

She still couldn’t bring herself to throw them away, even though they were practically trash.