Little Duckling - Chapter 22

Jian Xin felt like she’d been dreaming a lot lately, wondering if it was from reading too many novels.

Her dreams were sometimes logical, sometimes nonsensical.

Sometimes she dreamed of the novel’s protagonists, arguing endlessly before her, caught in misunderstandings or stubborn denials, each demanding she settle their disputes.

Other times, she dreamed of going viral overnight with a song, only to be mocked mercilessly across the internet before she could even savor her fleeting fame.

But most often, her dreams took her back to her high school years.

She remembered discussing living on campus with her family. Yan Lu was one of her roommates, and they did dormitory chores together, rushed to the cafeteria for meals, and carried thermos flasks to fetch hot water at night.

The faces of her classmates were always blurred, indistinct.

When the school bell rang, she grabbed Yan Lu’s hand and skipped class, the two of them strolling leisurely across the school’s athletic field.

In countless similar yet subtly different dreams, she found herself complaining loudly to Yan Lu in various settings. “I’m already so old,” she’d grumble, “I can earn my own money! Why do I even need to take the college entrance exam?”

She’d already relived her senior year of high school countless times!

It had to be said, this was a truly terrifying dream.

Who would want to repeat high school so many times?!

Even if… what you think about during the day manifests in your dreams at night.

Even if she desperately wanted to see someone, there was no need to be trapped in this recurring nightmare, was there?

Whenever Jian Xin thought about this, she couldn’t help but sigh.

Though she hated to admit it, she couldn’t stop thinking about Yan Lu.

The past, the present, those hazy memories of their shared history—all stirred like dust blown from dead ashes, swirling into a thousand particles that danced silently in the scorching summer sun.

Visible yet intangible, they only served to agitate her already restless heart.

Yet life had to go on.

Jian Xin told herself that she was just one person unexpectedly living two lives. Life was already difficult enough; there was no need to be so hard on herself.

So during her recovery, she only composed one song. The rest of her time was spent either reading Yan Lu’s novels or watching the dramas adapted from them.

Faced with their old friend’s utter laziness—refusing every job she could possibly decline, despite having just joined the band—the members of the Band Group collectively issued mild verbal reprimands.

After the scolding, of course, they chose to forgive her!

So not only did the Band Group’s name change to “Of Course We Forgive Her · Zzzz,” but Zheng Xinyue even photoshopped the group’s profile picture—a pigeon standing tall with its chest puffed out—to a forgiving green.

The group chat’s tone then shifted to this:

Have you finished reading the ex’s novel yet? A 4k project—writing, composing, and arranging—is due early next month. It’s urgent! Anyone want to take it on?

Lanlan Wants Reduplicated Words: Xinzi definitely won’t do it.

Yue Yue Wants Reduplicated Words: If Xinzi won’t, Yuezi will!

Lanlan Wants Reduplicated Words: If Yuezi won’t, Lanzi will!

Yue Yue Wants Reduplicated Words: If Lanzi wants to, Lanzi can!

Lanlan Wants Reduplicated Words: Speechless

Lanlan Wants Reduplicated Words: Pigeons scattering in all directions

Have you finished reading the ex’s novel yet?: So who actually wants to do it?

Yue Yue Wants Reduplicated Words: After you

Lanlan Wants Reduplicated Words: After you

Have you finished reading the ex’s novel yet?: This project pays 4k! @Reading the ex’s novel isn’t illegal!

Reading my ex’s novel isn’t illegal: Middle age brings gradual tranquility.

Reading my ex’s novel isn’t illegal: Let me lie here a bit longer.

Lanlan wants to use reduplicated words too: I knew it! Cheek resting on hand

Yue Yue wants to use reduplicated words too: Cheek resting on hand Shrugging

Reading my ex’s novel isn’t illegal: Time to get back to my drama!

Have you finished your ex’s novel yet?: Don’t rush me. I’m still catching up.

Speaking of dramas, Yao Wenqian was truly the perfect drama-watching buddy.

To make it easier for Jian Xin to watch dramas, she even shared her Q/Q account username and password.

She explained that all her streaming platform memberships were linked to her Q/Q account. Jian Xin could simply log in with her Q/Q credentials to access any platform without needing to verify her identity via SMS or QR code each time!

To be honest, Jian Xin was completely stunned when she received her little cousin’s account details.

Q/Q accounts are incredibly personal. To entrust one to someone else so casually required an extraordinary level of trust!

This was far too flattering!

Picked Up a Heart: You’re putting way too much faith in me!

Don’t Steal My Little Pudding: Hehehe

Don’t Steal My Little Pudding: My cousin’s best friend is my best friend too!

Don’t Steal My Little Pudding: If you’re willing to watch dramas with me, our friendship can upgrade from a small boat to a luxurious cruise ship!

Don’t Steal My Little Pudding: Remember to tell me your thoughts on the plot—whether you love it or want to rant about it!

Picked Up a Heart: No problem

Don’t Steal My Little Pudding: Hehehe

Faced with such trust, Jian Xin could only watch dramas daily and send Yao Wenqian her real-time reactions.

Yao Wenqian seemed to relish having someone to chat with while watching. She replied almost instantly whenever she was awake, and occasionally sent Jian Xin fan art related to the stories.

Jian Xin had never enjoyed reading novels so much before. Not only did she have someone to discuss the plot with at any time, but she also got to see all kinds of fan art.

With such a great companion, her “Seven-Year Catch-Up Plan for Past Works” was progressing exceptionally smoothly.

However, one day, Jian Xin stumbled upon the fan art she had received in their private chat on Weibo.

The artist, a popular creator with over 700,000 followers, was named Qian Xiaohuan.

Jian Xin stared at the fan count in disbelief for a long time before searching elsewhere. She discovered that Qian Xiaohuan had been commissioned to create art for several popular games in recent years. Online reviews described her as a young, uniquely talented artist with a distinctive style.

She never imagined that the late-night drama-watching buddy who had once knocked her over was actually a renowned artist in the fan art community—someone who had been earning five-figure commissions since her sophomore year of college and whose work was now highly sought after!

Still in shock, Jian Xin continued searching and realized that Yan Lu’s recent surge in popularity was partly due to this young artist.

Four years ago, the pen name “Yan Lu Er Qi” was barely known. While some called her a hidden gem, her work remained in a state of lukewarm obscurity.

Then Qian Xiaohuan began occasionally drawing fan art for Yan Lu’s novels, attracting the attention of curious fellow artists and fans. These early adopters, liking what they saw, started creating and sharing their own fan works within smaller circles, gradually drawing the eyes of more casual observers.

As fan creations for Yan Lu Er Qi’s novels multiplied—expanding from fan art to fanfiction and fan songs—the influx of newcomers from various fandoms steadily boosted her popularity.

However, it would be more accurate to say that Qian Xiaohuan and Yan Lu Er Qi had mutually elevated each other, rather than one having single-handedly made the other famous.

Before Qian Xiaohuan started drawing fan art for Yan Lu Er Qi’s novels, her Weibo account had only a few tens of thousands of followers. Most of her current fanbase grew after she began creating fan art for Yan Lu Er Qi’s novels and their drama adaptations.

Lying in bed, Jian Xin scrolled through her phone, tracing Yan Lu’s journey over the years. She read comments from early readers who recalled that Yan Lu’s most popular novel, when it first concluded, had only a few thousand favorites. A strange mix of emotions stirred within her.

In her increasingly distant memories, there was a novel Yan Lu had painstakingly written, stroke by stroke, in their classroom.

The story unfolded within the confines of a small school campus.

Lin Xiaoshuang was the protagonist, a girl who constantly walked on the edge of a cliff, avoiding sunlight and braving the cold wind. She stood with arms outstretched, dreaming of sprouting wings and soaring freely.

Her world was filled with tormentors: the school bully, her gambling-addicted, alcoholic father, her patriarchal grandparents, and a family situation that made her want to hide in shame.

Her world was so small, so cruel—except for Li Xia, there was no light in it.

Lin Xiaoshuang was as silent as a mute. She wanted to cry out to the world, but the crushing weight of her circumstances always silently choked back the screams and pleas for help that threatened to burst from her throat.

In Lin Xiaoshuang’s story, it seemed that without Li Xia, there was no hope left.

Back then, Jian Xin would always cry loudly, convinced it was the most profound love. Because of Li Xia’s redemption, Lin Xiaoshuang had poured all her strength into running forward, becoming a better person.

But now, reading Yan Lu’s other stories, Jian Xin realized that both she and Yan Lu—the kind of love they had yearned for in their youth, where one would “shed their skin and feathers, striving to reshape themselves to become worthy of another”—had only been because their worlds were too small back then.

The Yan Lu of today no longer wrote such stories.

Her protagonists, whether they possessed the power to defy everything or not, would gradually grow through fantastical journeys, transforming into individuals capable of scaling towering mountains and crossing vast rivers—not for anyone else, but for themselves.

Over the past few days, Jian Xin had devoured several of Yan Lu’s recent novels.

The more she read, the more she felt that the Yan Lu who had once created Lin Xiaoshuang in that little notebook had truly vanished.

Actually, that was a good thing…

Lin Xiaoshuang couldn’t exist without Li Xia, but Yan Lu could exist without her.

As Jian Xin thought this, she couldn’t help but sigh.

She stopped digging into Yan Lu and her Little Cousin’s past, opened TikTok, and began scrolling aimlessly.

The terrifying algorithms seemed to have installed surveillance on her phone. Before she had even scrolled through a few videos, a promotional post for Endless Rain flashed across her screen.

The background image was Little Cousin’s painting, “Rainy Night Confession,” set to the chorus of the drama’s ending theme.

The video featured a long scroll of excerpts from the original text:

In Little Qiu’s relatively short life, she had changed herself for Jiang Yan more than once.

She had eagerly fantasized that one day, by becoming her best self, she could finally be worthy of him.

But no one had told her who should define what “best” truly meant.

She speculated, observed, and learned…

She relentlessly molded every inch of her being to fit the mold of what she thought would earn praise, ignoring the pain.

Until she realized she had become unrecognizable to herself, and the person she had believed would never leave her side was drifting further away. Only then did she realize that the “beauty” others saw had never been what she truly wanted.

The rain in her heart grew heavier, as if it would never stop.

But she refused to drown in Jiang Yan’s endless rain.

So, she shouldered her pack and ventured alone into the distance.

Wide skies, vast lands, wander freely.

Video Caption: Loving yourself is better than loving anyone else. Sisters, read this novel and reject the “vegetable-picking” mentality! Cure your love-obsessed brain! #EndlessRain #YanLuErQi #GoodBookRecommendation

Jian Xin: “……”

How can reading a novel make my knees ache?

Living is just too hard.

Jian Xin pursed her lips, tossed her phone onto the pillow, and closed her eyes in frustration.

The air conditioning seemed too cold; she instinctively curled further under the blanket.

“……”

The blanket was gone.

In her drowsy state, she reached for the blanket, only to find her hand was also missing.

Jian Xin took a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes.

Beneath her feet was the familiar duck nest, beside her lay her Corgi, and the study light was still on.

The pre-sale for the reprint of Fallen Jade Branch had just ended. The publisher had sent seven large boxes of signed pages to Yan Lu’s home, which Yan Lu had piled in her study, blocking much of the natural light.

At that moment, Yan Lu sat at her computer desk, signing pages for the publisher while on a voice call.

The voice on the other end was soft and gentle, vaguely familiar yet also somewhat unfamiliar.

She chattered incessantly, switching topics between food, games, novels, and incomprehensible complaints about people and events.

Yan Lu listened quietly, occasionally murmuring “hmm” to show she was still paying attention.

Jian Xin lay sprawled in the duck nest, her mood far from sunny.

Xin Xin’s body felt like a little fireball, pressed tightly against her side. Even with the air conditioning running, the duck felt inexplicably irritable.

How old is this dog anyway? she wondered. Can’t it sleep on its own yet?

It had such a big tent-shaped dog bed, so why did it insist on squeezing into the tiny open-topped duck nest with her every day?

And Yan Lu—who was she talking to on that voice call?

Does she need someone to keep her company even while signing autographs?

Fine, get someone to keep you company, but the poor girl has been chattering away for ages and Yan Lu hasn’t even reacted properly. How come she doesn’t get yelled at? What kind of relationship do they have to be so tolerant of each other?!

Little Duck curled into a ball, her beady eyes wide as she couldn’t help but speculate wildly.

Suddenly, a voice came from the other end of the call: “Darling, how much longer do you need to sign?”

Duck couldn’t help but lift her head, unconsciously stretching her neck forward.

“What do you mean, ‘dear’?”

Yan Lu: “I don’t know.”

“Then how many have you signed so far?”

“Too many to count. Several boxes of paper, and I haven’t even finished one box yet.” A faint hint of resignation tinged Yan Lu’s voice. “If only I hadn’t agreed to sign them all during the pre-sale period.”

“My dear author, are you really unaware of how wildly popular Fallen Jade Branch is right now?” The person on the other end of the line sighed, their words carrying a hint of detached sympathy. “Even if you want to spoil your readers, you shouldn’t have agreed to such terms with the publisher.”

“I already agreed. What else can I do?” Yan Lu said, shaking her right hand before resuming her signing.

“Poor you! If it weren’t for me—this gentle, beautiful, and understanding Little Fairy who accidentally fell into the mortal realm and steals moments to keep you company—what would you do?” The girl on the other end of the line chuckled. “Quick, say thank you to the Little Fairy!”

Yan Lu couldn’t help but laugh. With a smile, she replied, “Thank you, Little Fairy.”

In the unnoticed duck nest, a little duck suddenly straightened up, stood on tiptoe, stretched its neck, and flapped its wings twice in annoyance.

Are they flirting? They’re definitely flirting!

They’re talking, aren’t they?!

Of course. Yan Lu is so popular now; she must have plenty of admirers. Whether she’s dating someone or has already dated someone, it’s perfectly normal.

Damn it! I lost after all!

Since breaking up with Yan Lu, I’ve remained single, never even started a second relationship!

For a fleeting moment, Jian Xin felt her strange competitive spirit suffer an irreversible blow!

No one noticed her resentment, but Xin Xin, who was beside her, narrowed its eyes slightly.

Sensing the duck’s agitation, Xin Xin extended a claw and gently pressed the duck’s outstretched neck back against its chest, as if to say, “Just sleep peacefully. Stop fussing!”

Enough is enough!

Without a word, Jian Xin turned and swung a wing at Xin Xin!

Xin Xin’s eyes snapped open, but before it could react, the duck had already waddled to Yan Lu’s feet, tilting its head back and quacking loudly.

“Quack, quack, quack! Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack!” Stop flirting with your Little Fairy who fell from the heavens!

“Quack—!” A dog is bullying me! Are you going to do anything about it?!

Yan Lu looked down at Cauliflower, her expression puzzled.

“Why is your duck quacking so loudly?” the Little Fairy asked with a smile from the other end of the line.

“I don’t know,” Yan Lu replied, setting down her signing pen. She bent down to pick up Little Duck from the floor, placed it on her lap, and gently stroked its head. “What’s wrong now? Did Xin Xin bully you again?”

As soon as she finished speaking, Xin Xin, wagging her tail, trotted over to her feet and obediently sat down under her gaze, looking utterly harmless.

If ducks could roll their eyes, Yan Lu would have given this little Corgi a good one.

“Woof~ Woof!”

“Quack!! Quack-quack!!!”

They couldn’t understand each other, but shouting back was always the right move.

“Woof~ Awoo?”

“Quack-quack-quack! Ah-ah-ah-quack-quack-quack!”

What are you barking about?!

I’ve never lost a volume contest in my life!

“Woof woof! Woof woof woof woof woof!”

“Quack-quack-quack-ah-ah-ah—quack-quack-quack!”

Ducks have such powerful voices! In terms of volume, they completely overwhelm a little Corgi!

“Your two little rascals are so noisy,” the Little Fairy remarked.

“I’m used to it,” Yan Lu said with a laugh.

“Quack?!”

Jian Xin perked up, tilting her head and barking twice more at the computer.

“Gagagagaga! Gagaga!”

Little Fairy, do you have any awareness of what it means to be with a human?!

“Gah! Gagagagaaaah!”

Cauliflower and Xin Xin are Yan Lu’s family! If you truly want to be with her, you must accept them!

“Gah?!”

You find them noisy?!

“Gagagaga—GAH!!!”

I’m the first to object to this marriage on behalf of Cauliflower and Xin Xin!

Jian Xin wanted to continue her tirade, knowing that as long as she wore the Duck persona, any “duck-like madness” wouldn’t reflect poorly on her.

But the next moment, Yan Lu pinched her flat beak shut.

Jian Xin: “……”

Since the day she gained the ability to transform into a duck, this was the first time Yan Lu had ever pinched her beak!

Did I disturb the Little Fairy?

New love and old love—there’s definitely a difference in treatment.

Wait, what “old love”…?

I’m not necessarily Yan Lu’s old love.

When you’re young and alone, the dependence you feel for someone—what kind of emotion is that, really? Who can say for sure?

At this thought, Jian Xin hung her head.

The plump little duck slowly, slowly deflated into a limp, deflated pancake.

After restraining the duck, Yan Lu soothed the Corgi for a while.

Before long, the study fell silent once more.

“These two little rascals are always fighting and making a fuss, but when they’re sleepy, they insist on sleeping together, like a pair of sworn enemies,” Yan Lu said, smoothing the duck’s feathers as she spoke.

“Sworn enemies, sworn enemies—” the unnamed Little Fairy chimed in. “How can they be sworn enemies if they don’t sleep together?”

Xin Xin: “Woof!”

Little Fairy: “What’s Xin Xin saying?”

Yan Lu: “She agrees with you.”

Little Fairy: “Xin Xin is so adorable!”

Jian Xin: “……”

The duck gritted her teeth, her tiny body shrinking even smaller.

What kind of life is this?

Getting stabbed by dramas, getting stabbed by novels, my leg still hasn’t healed, transmigrating into a duck, being bullied by a dog—and now I have to listen to my ex and this unnamed Little Fairy, who’s either his current or soon-to-be current girlfriend, having a sweet, saccharine phone call…

Is this really fair?

Is this how my life is supposed to be?

Little Fairy: “Aiya, I can’t stay with you much longer! My flight’s about to take off!”

Yan Lu: “Safe travels.”

Little Fairy: “My dear Author-sama, why are you being so cold? I’ve been keeping you company for two whole hours!”

Yan Lu thought for a moment, then chuckled. “If I remember correctly, two hours ago, you were the one who said waiting for your flight was boring and asked me to chat with you.”

Little Fairy: “…Fine, fine. I’m a fairy; I won’t hold it against you. I have an early morning shoot tomorrow, so I need to get some sleep. You should rest early too—bye-bye!”

As soon as she finished speaking, the call abruptly ended.

Jian Xin tilted her head.

A shoot? What kind of shoot?

She couldn’t resist craning her neck for a better look at the computer screen.

The next moment, Little Duck’s beady eyes widened as much as they possibly could—which wasn’t very much at all!

The woman who had been calling her “dear” and referring to herself as “Little Fairy” was none other than Lin Xiyu, the wildly popular actress and female lead of the blockbuster drama Fallen Jade Branch!

No wonder her voice sounded vaguely familiar, yet Jian Xin couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before.

If it was Lin Xiyu…

Jian Xin strained to recall.

Back at the hospital, when she had confessed her admiration for Lin Xiyu, Yan Lu’s words had seemed laced with sarcasm and veiled hostility.

But why the hostility?

Their relationship had long since ceased to be what it once was.

Now, looking back, Yan Lu’s passive-aggressive behavior likely stemmed from Lin Xiyu.

Which meant…

Yan Lu couldn’t possibly be having a secret affair with a celebrity of Lin Xiyu’s magnitude, could she?!

Oh my god, what is going on?!

Great Duck Immortal, did you really have to bind me here at this moment?!

This is such private stuff! I don’t want to know any of this, okay?!