The Villain is Soft and Clingy [Transmigration] - Chapter 6
Xia Zhitiao’s eyes softened with affection as she thought of her clumsy younger brother back in the modern world.
“I’m your senior sister, of course I care about you,” she said, reaching out to take her junior sister’s hand. “Come with me, I’ll take you to pick out some books.”
However, Zhang Lan, usually so clingy, nodded obediently but uncharacteristically avoided her touch, putting her hands behind her back, trying to hide them.
What was going on?
Xia Zhitiao frowned, stepped forward, and without a word, grabbed Zhang Lan’s wrist: “Let me see.”
She didn’t use much force, her fingers gently circling the slender wrist. Her thumb brushed over soft skin, feeling a slight warmth.
Zhang Lan hesitated for a moment, but then extended her hand from behind. Xia Zhitiao pulled it closer and instantly understood.
Those tender white fingers were covered in tiny, dense cracks, oozing specks of bl00d.
And in the palm of her left hand, there was an even more gruesome scar, slicing fiercely downwards from between her fingers, severing all the palm lines.
She should have realized it sooner. The junior sister couldn’t use spiritual power, and that rope was inherently rough. Climbing all the way up from the bottom of the mountain, her hands must have been scraped raw.
“Don’t move, I’ll help you heal.” Xia Zhitiao silently recited a spell, spiritual power gathering in her hand. Just as she was about to place it on Zhang Lan’s palm, the other girl pulled her hand away.
“Senior Sister, Master said my physique is special and I can’t receive spiritual power,” Zhang Lan said, blushing slightly. “Do you have any mortal herbs or something? I’ll just wipe it on.”
Xia Zhitiao understood. “Come back with me, then.”
Coincidentally, her small wooden house actually had quite a few healing tools like medicinal powders, ointments, and bandages. She must have brought them up the mountain a long time ago; if Zhang Lan hadn’t mentioned it, she would have almost forgotten about them.
—
Regarding her personality, Xia Zhitiao was actually quite a laid-back person, or “slow to warm up” in modern terms.
Aside from work, her attitude toward life was very Buddhist. She took things as they came, and her life with her younger brother was quite stable.
Even after her accidental transmigration, her mindset remained the same: no striving, no competing, just wanting to live her small life peacefully.
Even if she knew the plot’s direction, her influence in this world was minimal, and there was very little she could do, let alone change the plot.
She knew very well that this was just a novel, and she was merely one of countless readers. Even with the protagonist’s divine plot armor, if she seized the protagonist’s opportunities or overshadowed the villain, what then?
No matter how powerful you are, or how much control you wield, you’re still just in a novel, merely entertainment for those outside your dimension, truly meaningless.
Therefore, her motto was: don’t die.
That’s right, Xia Zhitiao didn’t know why she had transmigrated, and her memories before it were hazy. But her goal was very clear:
Live one day at a time.
When the villain goes insane trying to destroy the world and the protagonist righteously tries to stop her, her only hope is to stay in the middle and survive.
This was a novel, and a novel naturally has its protagonist. The protagonist is blessed with great luck and divine will. As cannon fodder who was never even mentioned in the book, how could she possibly contend with them?
After transmigrating, she had no grand ambitions. She just wanted to live peacefully for a while and slowly find a way back to the modern world.
—However, this detached mindset changed slightly after the junior sister appeared.
It was like a carefree fallen leaf suddenly snagged by a thin string at its tip, becoming somewhat restrained and bound, yet unwilling to let go, allowing that slender string to fall to the ground.
—
The two left Yubai Peak and returned to Xia Zhitiao’s small cabin.
For some reason, the two small flowers Xia Zhitiao had planted idly by the door, which she had been barely keeping alive, suddenly perked up the moment they saw Zhang Lan.
The two little flowers vigorously shook their stems, no longer looking half-dead, but full of vigor, as if they wanted to cling to Zhang Lan.
Zhang Lan completely ignored the two “little fangirls” and obediently followed Xia Zhitiao into the house.
Xia Zhitiao settled the junior sister into a chair, then turned to fetch various ointments, gently taking her hand: “This might sting a little.”
Zhang Lan blinked, saying, “I’m not scared.”
Xia Zhitiao selected a box of the best ointment, twisted open the lid, and a faint, woody scent wafted out, lingering in the air.
She dabbed a bit of ointment onto her fingertip, then cupped Zhang Lan’s palm, bowing her head slightly, and gently applied it to the wounds.
The wounds weren’t deep, but numerous, tiny scratches caused by friction, oozing specks of bl00d, which looked particularly gruesome against her soft white skin.
Xia Zhitiao carefully applied the ointment for her, then pulled out a piece of gauze. Looking at the other’s small hand, she suddenly felt troubled.
*Oh no, how do I bandage this?*
Xia Zhitiao wasn’t a medical student. In modern times, small scrapes just needed a band-aid. Having to wrap gauze in this world was too difficult for her.
She tried wrapping it back and forth several times. Xia Zhitiao looked at the unsightly, white “zongzi”-like hand she had bandaged and silently averted her gaze.
*I’m so sorry, Junior Sister! I tried my best!*
Fortunately, Zhang Lan showed no sign of blaming her. Instead, she looked overjoyed: “Thank you, Senior Sister, you’re so good, and you wrapped it so nicely!”
*You call this white, chubby, zongzi-like bandage “nice-looking”?*
Xia Zhitiao covered her face, not wanting to speak. She feigned a cough and pushed Zhang Lan outwards: “Alright, alright, you should go back now.”
—
After Zhang Lan left, another ten-plus days passed without Xia Zhitiao seeing even a strand of her hair.
Master Qin Zhi was different from her Grand-master; she didn’t allow seniors to visit the new disciples, so Xia Zhitiao had no choice but to wait anxiously outside for news.
She wondered how the child’s trial was going.
Xia Zhitiao stayed in her small cabin, staring blankly at the scenery outside.
Her goal was to survive in this book. While it might be a bit shameful, the only way to survive seemed to be to cling to someone powerful.
Although the author, Banana Peel King, shamefully ended the novel poorly after finding a partner, according to the first law of novels, the protagonist, with their immortal golden body, was definitely the safest person.
If she could only cling to the protagonist’s thigh, her chances of survival before the novel’s end would significantly increase.
From unknown cannon fodder to well-known cannon fodder, or even potentially upgrading to the protagonist’s “loyal subordinate.” Even if she accidentally bought the farm and died, perhaps she could be revived by the protagonist’s pity?
Thinking that way, it was truly heartbreaking.
Xia Zhitiao silently sighed and began to seriously reconsider her future plans.
The junior sister was clumsy, falling flat on her face and cutting her hands. She had to keep an eye on her more.
After she latched onto the protagonist, she would see if the protagonist had any ideas about covering the junior sister as well. That way, after she left, the junior sister would also have someone to look out for her.
…However, based on the current plot, the protagonist hadn’t even appeared yet.
Xia Zhitiao pondered, pulling out the faded red booklet from her drawer, intending to check the current plot progress again.
Just then, someone pounded heavily on her door.
Her fear came true. Xia Zhitiao turned her head, and sure enough, a beautiful but arrogant woman kicked open the door without waiting for a reply and swaggered in.
She surveyed the small wooden house, her gaze landing on Xia Zhitiao. She gave a disdainful “hmph” and said, “Xia Zhitiao, it’s your turn to go down the mountain today.”
Although Yashan Sect was indeed the largest sect in the Central Plains, its daily supplies needed to be regularly replenished, as most disciples hadn’t reached the stage of subsisting on qi alone. This arduous task naturally couldn’t be done by the Grand-master, so it became the disciples’ duty.
Xia Zhitiao resignedly stood up and said, “Thank you for the reminder, I’ll go now.”
The person’s name was Du Yinyin, a disciple from the same batch as Xia Zhitiao. Apparently, because Xia Zhitiao had always suppressed her in the initiation trials, she had held a grudge against Xia Zhitiao.
…We’re both cannon fodder, what’s there to bicker about?
Xia Zhitiao sighed inwardly, not wanting to cause trouble. After all, it was just going down the mountain to buy some things, and she could also do some shopping along the way. How nice.
She completely ignored Du Yinyin, who was still glaring at her, went to the main hall to collect some silver, then left Yashan and headed to the nearby market.
—
Compared to Yashan, a desolate place where you wouldn’t see a soul for miles, the market down the mountain was much livelier.
As far as the eye could see, there were brothels and painted pavilions, embroidered households and beaded curtains. The open shops, hawking their wares, stretched as far as the eye could see.
Xia Zhitiao was in a pretty good mood, strolling around the market. The sun was still high, and she was spending public funds, so she was naturally relaxed and happy.
She looked around and saw a food stall in the street that was unusually bustling, with occasional cheers: “Well said!” “That’s the truth!” “Splendid! Splendid!” Curious, she squeezed her way in.
Upon getting closer, she realized someone was storytelling.
The storyteller held a folding fan, swaying his head, meticulously recounting the turmoil of the martial world. A group of burly men surrounded the storyteller, listening intently, occasionally making comments.
Xia Zhitiao joined the excitement, found a table and sat down, ordered a pot of green tea, and listened for a bit.
The storyteller was narrating tales of martial world grievances and feuds. He described them vividly. Xia Zhitiao listened for a while and roughly gathered that he was talking about the cruel deeds of a heinous demon who burned, killed, and looted.
That demon was quite formidable, doing every conceivable wicked thing. He would capture eighty-year-old men to warm his bed, throw three-year-old children to mop the floor, and indulge in promiscuous acts without restraint, anytime, anywhere, with an infuriating hunger.
Thinking about it carefully, it was truly gruesome.
Xia Zhitiao listened, took a sip of tea with a sigh, and before she could swallow it, the storyteller added: “This is just the tip of the iceberg! The monstrous deeds of the Demon Sect Leader Zhang Kuang could not be finished in three days and three nights!”
“Pfft—”
Xia Zhitiao couldn’t hold it in and spat out all the tea.