I Redeemed Him, But Who Will Redeem Me? - Chapter 9

If it really had something to do with him, then what did he do…?

Lin Xicai stared at Xie Shi, boldly staring in a way she rarely did, trying to find the tiniest crack in his expression—perhaps surprise, or a flicker of panic.

But there was nothing.
He remained as calm as a pool of dead water, as if completely unaware of the strangeness unfolding now, as if none of this touched him at all.

But if he truly hadn’t noticed anything, then how could he have made a completely different choice from the first time?

Lin Xicai had always felt that erasing someone’s memory and throwing them back to the starting point was meaningless, because that person would only repeat the same choices, retracing the same path.

Since Xie Shi had managed to break away from the original trajectory, it proved one thing: he definitely still had the memory from the previous round.

“Pa—”

A notebook slid down her back from the desk behind. Lin Xicai turned her head, locking eyes with Zhu Hongfei and Lu Zixin, who hadn’t yet withdrawn their goofy grins.

The two were roughhousing, pushing and shoving, and had knocked a notebook onto the ground. Now they were staring at her sheepishly, trying to smile it off.

Zhu Hongfei cast a glance at Xie Shi, then looked back at Lin Xicai and muttered, lowering his voice a little:
“Zhong Fei, help me pick up the notebook, yeah?”

Lin Xicai flicked her eyes toward Xie Shi, blinked, bent down to pick up the notebook, and handed it over. Then she leaned in slightly toward Zhu Hongfei, smiling faintly, her tone unreadable:
“You’re still in the mood to mess around? Have you memorized the classical Chinese text on page 39 of the Chinese textbook? The teacher’s going to call on you later.”

“What kind of joke is that? Classical Chinese? Calling on me? Look at the schedule, will you? This is English class. You’re saying the English teacher’s gonna make me recite classical Chinese?”

Both Zhu Hongfei and Lu Zixin thought it hilarious, but with the school tyrant sitting there, they didn’t dare laugh out loud. They exchanged a glance, faces reddening from holding back their laughter.

Lin Xicai didn’t reply. She simply turned to look toward the classroom door.

The two boys followed her gaze—
And the next second, someone who shouldn’t have appeared walked gracefully in.

Both of them froze. This was clearly English class, yet the one who entered was the Chinese teacher.

“Your English teacher had something come up, so I’ll be teaching this period. Take out your Chinese textbooks.”

The two boys exchanged looks, shock plain in their eyes.

But a beat later, they calmed themselves. Teachers occasionally switching classes wasn’t anything strange. If Zhong Fei had dared to say it beforehand, she must have gotten the news first.

Zhu Hongfei pouted, muttering under his breath, “Switching classes happens all the time, big deal…”

“Zhu Hongfei!”

He jerked upright, his mind suddenly a complete blank.

No—not just blank in knowledge, but for an instant even his understanding of reality collapsed, because the next words out of the teacher’s mouth were—

“Page 39, that essay. You recite it.”

Zhu Hongfei stood stiffly, his body frozen. More than the panic of not knowing the text, what shook him most was—how did Zhong Fei know? How could she have known even this?

Could it be… she also saw the future?
Did she also have some kind of power?

That thought dredged up a memory that had always made his hair stand on end: out on the sports field, that person had stood coldly in front of him, announcing an explosion in the calmest voice imaginable.

Fragments had sliced across his face and arms, bl00d dripping down as he looked up in terror—straight into eyes that were like an abyss…

Zhu Hongfei’s gaze skittered, flitting between Lin Xicai and Xie Shi, shock shading into fear.
No wonder.
No wonder he always felt the two of them strangely matched.

No wonder this weirdo treated Zhong Fei differently—passing notes by the second day.

Turns out… they were the same kind.

Two freaks, sitting together, right in front of him. Zhu Hongfei suddenly felt his fate was pitifully cursed…

After getting chewed out, Zhu Hongfei sat down pale as paper. Beside him, Lu Zixin didn’t look much better, his dark face flushed red from suppressed emotions, making him look even darker.

Lin Xicai wasn’t interested in their tangled thoughts. Her gaze remained fixed, always flicking toward Xie Shi, trying to catch something unusual on his face.

But he didn’t rise to her bait at all. Even when she hinted at her situation at the risk of exposure, he stayed calm as ever, silent, as still as stagnant water.

During all this, a horror novel sat open on his desk, and he’d already flipped through several pages.

Lin Xicai studied his cold, distant face, fell silent a moment, then asked:
“Why didn’t you come to class yesterday?”

She wasn’t expecting him to really answer. But after a pause, Xie Shi actually lifted his head. He didn’t look at her—just turned slightly to glance at the two boys behind them, speaking flatly:
“I didn’t come to class yesterday?”

The two froze, caught off guard by Xie Shi actually addressing them. They stammered, a little too eager:
“Y-You did! You even… even borrowed a pen from your desk mate.”

Xie Shi nodded slightly, then finally looked at Lin Xicai, his gaze unreadable.

Lin Xicai: “…”

He did that on purpose.

He knew perfectly well what she meant, but deliberately asked them—when they didn’t know a thing.

She was almost certain now that Xie Shi knew about this. But his attitude made it clear: he had zero interest in cooperating with her. He might as well have written “Don’t bother me” across his face.

Irritation gnawed at her. She spent the whole afternoon restless and uneasy.

That night, when she went to bed, she prayed almost devoutly that all this strangeness would end tonight. She clung to the hope that tomorrow would be a brand new day.

Her insomnia was severe. Near midnight, her palms sweated as she gripped her phone, staring unblinking at the screen, as if willing all her faith into this single moment.

But before her eyes, October 16th, 23:59 turned into October 16th, 00:00.

The cold glow of the screen cut through the darkness like a ghost, and a chill spread from her fingertips through every cell.

The third time.
The loop was still continuing.

Lin Xicai barely slept a wink. When she rose, she was dragged back into the same crushing repetition.

This time, she deliberately avoided the garden, refusing to pick up the flower she knew was waiting. She skipped that bus, steering clear of those eerily familiar faces.

She no longer panicked. More than anything, she was just annoyed.

At the corner, she dodged early, slipping past the polite, handsome stranger she knew would appear.

Her movements were too obvious. He raised his head, eyes meeting hers for half a second.

Three times in a row—Lin Xicai could only laugh tiredly. She thought wryly that maybe she was fated with this couple. Offering them a polite smile and nod, she stepped aside to give them space.

She didn’t notice the gaze that lingered on her back, following her until she was long gone.

Later, when she was summoned to the Chinese office again, and Fu Yanxiu once more appeared at the door with that frosty expression, Lin Xicai was completely unruffled. She didn’t even bother lifting her eyelids, lost in thought, detached.

But her composure only seemed to condemn her further. After they left the office, Fu Yanxiu fixed her with a colder, sharper accusation than the last two times.

“Do you find these little tricks amusing?” he said coldly. “You don’t look surprised at all—like you already knew I’d show up.”

“…”

Of course she wasn’t surprised. This was the third time, for god’s sake. Was she supposed to still act shocked?

Her silence he read as guilt. His disgust deepened, his mockery sharper:
“I hate it when people use my father against me most of all. Are you determined to test every single one of my taboos? I thought at least you’d behave yourself for a few days…”

“…”

The third time.
This was already the third time.

She’d endured his same hollow ridicule three days in a row.

The frustration she’d been bottling up finally ignited. Lin Xicai looked up at his lofty, arrogant face, flames dancing suddenly in her eyes.

What had she done wrong? Why were all these things dumped on her?

Since everything reset at midnight, why should she have to swallow this humiliation?

This was like a dream—and in her own dream, couldn’t she at least stand tall?

“Don’t use your pathetic tricks on me. If you—”

“Shut up.” Lin Xicai cut him off coldly.

Fu Yanxiu’s pupils shrank. “What did you say?”

“I said shut up.” She stepped closer. “Did I invite you here?”

He frowned. She closed the distance another half-step, her timidity gone, fire blazing where fear had been.

“I never even told my mom I was called to the office. How did you find out? Oh—let me guess. It must’ve been Xuefan, right? At dinner with your parents, your sister trotted me out as a bit of table gossip. And then your kindhearted father handed the task to you. Am I right?”

His arrogant face was inches away, flushed under the heat of her anger.

He clearly loathed her closeness, retreating two steps, his expression ugly—but he didn’t deny it. Lin Xicai knew she’d guessed right.

Finally feeling vindicated, she pressed on, “So what’s the point of taking it out on me? Your legs are your own. You could’ve just refused to come. What, you think your father would break the legs of his precious son over a servant’s daughter? You choose to play the dutiful son, and then dump all your cowardice on someone who can’t fight back. Impressive.”

Step by step, she cornered him until his back hit the railing, nowhere left to retreat.
“Zhong Fei!”

He was nearly beside himself with rage—yet when he looked down, he caught sight of the red marks on her neck.

In the sunlight, they stood out like red plum blossoms against snow—striking, impossible to ignore.

Realizing where his eyes had gone, Lin Xicai’s tone turned colder.
“What? Planning to strangle me again?”

Her eyes, once filled with obsessive longing, now brimmed only with sharp defiance.
“Fu Yanxiu, you should be glad I don’t feel that way about you anymore. But if you deliberately lean close again, looking for excuses to touch me—don’t blame me if history repeats itself.”

He held her gaze, struggling against a strange, intense feeling, then shoved her hard, nearly exploding with fury.
“You’ve lost your mind!”

Stumbling back, drained of strength, Lin Xicai’s eyes went hazy, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe I really am going mad.”

…

When Lin Xicai returned to the classroom, her deskmate’s seat was already filled.

Xie Shi was there again, earlier than before—even two periods early.

He was reading the same horror novel as yesterday.

At first she didn’t notice, but then realization struck—he was reading from the folded page, picking up right where he’d left off the day before.

Not even pretending anymore.

He was practically flaunting it: he knew everything, but he simply wasn’t interested in engaging with her.

Her frustration burned, but underneath it, she felt the faintest flicker of hope.

If he could stay this calm in the face of all this, then this probably wasn’t his first time either. Which meant—he likely knew how to break the loop.

But he was solitary, eccentric. If she pushed too hard, it would only backfire. So Lin Xicai held herself back, silently watching his every move.

That afternoon, after the second class, Xie Shi suddenly picked up his bag and walked out of school.

Lin Xicai’s eyelids twitched. Without hesitation, she followed.

She had a feeling—
If she followed this person, she’d find the answer.