I Deduce the Female Lead Likes Me [Transmigration into a book] - Chapter 23: Work
Song Muxue followed Kou Shuang out of the mental hospital. She took a few steps to walk alongside Kou Shuang and asked her: “What’s wrong? Did you ask what you wanted to ask?”
Kou Shuang looked at Song Muxue and said: “I did.”
“That’s good,” Song Muxue walked straight ahead, pulling Kou Shuang towards the subway station.
Kou Shuang, however, suddenly looked at Song Muxue’s profile and asked: “Aren’t you curious what I wanted to ask a mentally ill person?”
Song Muxue paused, saying nothing.
She was curious, of course she was.
Kou Shuang’s concern for Sun Jiawen had exceeded the level of ordinary classmates. Although Kou Shuang said it was because she pitied Sun Jiawen for being deceived by a scumbag, her behavior shouldn’t be like this.
Kou Shuang couldn’t find an internship. Sun Jiawen introduced Chunsheng Gallery, and she went there without any reservations; for a job like selling paintings, she didn’t even carefully check whether the paintings were real or fake; when she discovered so many fake paintings in the gallery, Kou Shuang didn’t think of calling the police first, but instead planned to contact Sun Jiawen; she rushed out when she saw Sun Jiawen and Lu Renjia in the small pavilion, completely disregarding her own safety; she was extremely interested in visiting Sun Jiawen, and Song Muxue heard Kou Shuang calling the hospital several times.
Combined with what she had just seen… a guess gradually formed, but Song Muxue wasn’t sure if her guess was true.
“When you want to talk, you naturally will,” Song Muxue said softly.
Kou Shuang looked at Song Muxue’s face, feeling a little hesitant. She knew Song Muxue was curious and, due to some strange sense of pride, was unwilling to show it. She desperately wanted to tell Song Muxue the truth, but…
Sun Jiawen said she couldn’t tell; she said it would bring divine retribution, and the world would turn against her.
She shouldn’t gamble with her own life. What if, like Sun Jiawen, she was deemed mentally ill? How would she ever get out and return to reality? Not having her personal freedom restricted was the basis for all action.
But looking at Song Muxue’s expression…
“Do you believe in the existence of gods in this world? Or fate?” Kou Shuang carefully chose her words, asking a question almost everyone had pondered.
She hoped this world’s “Heavenly Dao” wasn’t that intelligent and couldn’t read her intentions.
Song Muxue paused and said: “Are you talking about fatalism? It negates human subjective initiative, and law exists based on ‘everyone being able to choose independently and bear corresponding responsibilities.’ From a professional perspective, I cannot accept such a notion.”
Kou Shuang said “Oh,” feeling a little disappointed. She didn’t know how to tell the other person that Song Muxue’s life was merely a resume born on paper, and Song Muxue’s choices were determined by the original author.
So-called free will simply didn’t exist. Even if it did, it would be suppressed by everything, forced into a mental hospital.
Fundamentally, Song Muxue had no free will at all, unless she could realize the fact that “she was just a character.”
Kou Shuang sighed, then asked: “Have you ever done things against your will or said things you didn’t mean? Being manipulated by some strange person, like, well, a puppet on strings?”
This time, Song Muxue paused for a longer time but didn’t answer the question directly. Instead, she turned to look at Kou Shuang and said: “Do you often feel unfree? Are you unhappy?”
From Kou Shuang’s words, Song Muxue gathered this emotion.
Kou Shuang was startled, then lowered her head. Song Muxue lived too “clearly”; perhaps she had never been confused and thus never thought about such issues. “Have you seen The Matrix? In Sun Jiawen’s eyes, the world is like that.”
“What about you?” Song Muxue turned to look at Kou Shuang and said: “I want to know how you view the world. Is that why you visited Sun Jiawen? Do you also think the world is like The Matrix?”
Song Muxue’s eyes were still faint, but the concern they revealed was impossible for Kou Shuang to ignore. Kou Shuang knew that Song Muxue was worried about her.
“Do you ever feel like life is a play, and you’re a puppet on strings in the author’s hands? Whatever she tells you to do, you have to do. You’re the protagonist, and I’m the supporting character,” Kou Shuang blurted out.
Splash, splash—
—Shhh…
Heavenly secrets must not be revealed.
Secrets must not be told.
Immediately after, a torrential downpour.
The rain came too fiercely, from brewing to falling in less than a second. Kou Shuang couldn’t even be sure whether her words or the raindrops fell first, nor could she be sure if Song Muxue had heard what she said.
Song Muxue looked up at the sky, then pulled Kou Shuang by the hand and ran towards a nearby convenience store. After reaching the eaves, Song Muxue complained: “Why is it raining so fast…”
The rainwater soaked Kou Shuang’s entire body. Her hair clung to her neck, and Kou Shuang suddenly felt a bone-chilling cold, her entire body breaking out in goosebumps.
Divine retribution! So such a thing really exists!
It didn’t stop her from discussing fatalism, but she couldn’t directly talk about the book!
Sun Jiawen must have suffered many similar pains, so even after recognizing her, she could only use those vague words!
The chill flowed down her neck into her chest, and into her heart.
“What were you just saying about life and protagonists… was that some motivational quote you read on Weibo? You can only control your own destiny and be the protagonist of your life by working hard and being diligent. You’ve found your path now; you’re already very impressive,” Song Muxue turned to look at Kou Shuang, but found the other’s lips were a little pale: “What’s wrong? You didn’t catch a cold just from getting rained on, did you?”
“The heavens change face so quickly…” Kou Shuang looked up at the sky, which was obscured by the eaves, feeling a little melancholic.
“June weather, a child’s face… although it’s already October now,” Song Muxue said.
She saw water constantly dripping from Kou Shuang’s hair and her body trembling, so she simply turned and went into the convenience store. When she came out again, she had several packets of tissues in her hand. She tore open a packet, handed Kou Shuang a few, and said: “Wipe off the rain so you don’t catch a cold after going home.”
••••
After this incident, Kou Shuang no longer applied for any accounting jobs.
In reality, everything was earned through her own struggle. Kou Shuang could find a suitable accounting job, and she could also go to a construction site and move bricks. But it was different in this world.
This world was both human-like and willful. Although she didn’t know what principles it followed, the path to accounting was blocked.
So Kou Shuang changed her strategy, submitting resumes for all sorts of jobs, wanting to see what would respond to her.
Was it “forbidden to do certain things,” or “only allowed to do certain things?”
When Kou Shuang submitted resumes, she didn’t deliberately avoid art-related fields, but she was still somewhat selective, at least avoiding galleries, even though they perfectly matched her resume.
She remembered very clearly that the gallery where “Kou Shuang” later worked was called Fangxing. She took this as her last bit of stubbornness; she didn’t want to completely replicate “Kou Shuang’s” life.
“Kou Shuang” was a character, and she was a human. These were completely different existences, and she had to respect her own autonomy.
To prevent any accidents, she even avoided all other galleries—what if they changed their name, transferred ownership, or were acquired?
She sent out hundreds of resumes, and the responses she received were mostly for art-related jobs.
Kou Shuang didn’t know if this was the will of this world or if it was simply because her resume was indeed best suited for art. But getting such a result, she could only sigh and shake her head.
She was no longer as indignant, as if she had compromised.
She interviewed with many companies, clothing companies, advertising agencies. The funniest part was that Wanxiang Magazine, which she had previously interviewed with alongside Sun Jiawen, invited her for another interview.
After two months of frantic activity, Kou Shuang finally finished all her interviews. When she came back to her senses, she realized it was almost December.
And she still hadn’t moved out of Song Muxue’s small apartment, mainly because she got so busy she forgot.
On the day she finished interviewing with all companies, she dramatically threw herself onto Song Muxue’s soft, large bed, saying aloud: “Lend me your bed for a bit; my bed is too small, uncomfortable to lie on.”
Song Muxue sat at her desk, typing furiously, responding without looking up: “Sleep wherever you like.”
Kou Shuang lay on the bed for a while, then suddenly looked up at Song Muxue and asked her: “Are you still interning at that law firm? Or have you become a full-time employee?”
The sound of the keyboard continued uninterrupted: “Finally remembered to ask me, have you sorted out your own job?”
“Interviews are done; all that’s left is to wait,” Kou Shuang sighed heavily. She didn’t know if she could find a job like this.
If the Heavenly Dao truly existed, it might have already detected her, this anomaly. If she refused to follow the original path, could she succeed?
During this period of interviews, occasionally passing by the entrance of Fangxing Gallery, she was always on edge, afraid that the owner would rush out and insist on hiring her. Fortunately, such a thing hadn’t happened yet.
“You’ll definitely find one, you’ve worked so hard,” Song Muxue’s voice carried a hint of a smile. She said: “If it really doesn’t work out, just keep studying. After all, you can never be too educated.”
Speaking of this, Song Muxue suddenly stopped typing and looked at Kou Shuang: “By the way, why are you in such a hurry to find a job? Given your qualifications and major, continuing your studies would be a better option, wouldn’t it?”
Kou Shuang sighed. She didn’t know why “Kou Shuang” didn’t pursue a master’s degree or something similar.
Song Muxue took off her glasses, stood up, walked from her desk to the bed, and looked at Kou Shuang, saying: “Do you want to go abroad? There are many art schools in America, and the atmosphere is very good.”
Kou Shuang looked at Song Muxue, feeling a little strange. Song Muxue’s cool and indifferent face held a hint of a smile, and she even took time out from her heavy overtime to specifically come to her and ask about this. Why?
Her job search was almost complete. If she was offering advice based on her own vested interests, it should have been before she started looking for a job.
Lost in thought, Kou Shuang said nothing. Just then, her phone suddenly jingled. Kou Shuang fumbled to get up from the bed and finally found her phone.
“Hello… yes… that’s fine… acceptable… thank you.”
Kou Shuang answered several questions briefly. After hanging up, she looked at Song Muxue and happily announced: “I got accepted by an advertising company!”
Song Muxue’s smile paused, then deepened a moment later: “Congratulations!”
The joy and blessings came from the heart, so sincere that it was as if Song Muxue herself had found a job.
Kou Shuang subconsciously felt she had missed something important, but this odd feeling was fleeting, and Kou Shuang quickly dismissed it.