Villain Strategy Rules [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 12

Because of Chaoyao’s arrival, Wen Zhixu went out alone with her instead of taking the school bus with Yang Yue.

After leaving the campus, Chaoyao took Wen Zhixu to a bookstore. As they walked, Chaoyao suddenly said, “You don’t have to do this for me. In fact, everyone knows the truth—they just won’t say it out loud. If you suddenly get involved and it affects your family, it’ll cause trouble for you.”

“Family…” Wen Zhixu thought of her parents—she suddenly missed home. “For people like them, you might as well assume I don’t have a family.”

“Also, I didn’t come back empty-handed this time. I recorded evidence of Song Chaoyao bullying others. So, she’s always been the one tormenting people, right? You don’t need to shoulder everything yourself. Your back is so thin—how could you carry such a heavy blame?”

Chaoyao suddenly stopped walking. She locked eyes with Wen Zhixu, her lips parting slightly before she lowered her gaze until her pupils held only Wen Zhixu. Then she asked, “Will you choose to believe me?”

“Yes.” Wen Zhixu answered firmly. “Whatever you say, I’ll believe it.”

For the first time in eighteen years, Chaoyao received someone’s unwavering trust. The iron walls she had built deep inside her heart instantly dissolved like bubbles in the wind, leaving only a warm breeze to embrace her.

Chaoyao smiled. Bathed in sunlight, they arrived at a nearby park and sat on a bench beneath a tree, watching the passersby as she finally revealed the truth.

“My grades are excellent, and the teachers like me. My deskmate and I have always been ranked first and second in our grade. We used to get along well. Then one day, she suddenly called me to the equipment room. When I got there, I saw Song Chaoyao and her friends beating her up. Then the teacher arrived, and she accused me of hitting her—even claimed I’d been bullying classmates all along.”

Wen Zhixu sighed. She had guessed right—Song Chaoyao was indeed the instigator. Another classic case of the powerful versus the ordinary, though the outcome here was slightly different. In the world of novels, the ordinary still lost in the end. So… author, what exactly are you trying to do?

“But I don’t want to dwell on it anymore. Right now, I just want to study hard and leave the orphanage behind.”

As Chaoyao spoke, a sudden gust of wind brushed the strands of hair from her forehead. Wen Zhixu gently tucked them back and said, “Then don’t think about it. Focus on your studies—I believe you’ll succeed. And one more thing: you can let go of everything else, but we must clear that disciplinary record. We won’t take the blame for this. Trust me. I’ll prove your innocence.”

Chaoyao stared into Wen Zhixu’s eyes, searching for any hidden emotions. The first time she met Wen Zhixu, she knew she was Song Chaoyao’s sister. The resemblance between them was uncanny—no one would doubt they were bl00d-related. Yet the aura they gave off was entirely different. Song Chaoyao was confident, radiant, the kind of person people couldn’t help but gravitate toward.

“I believe you.”

Wen Zhixu poked Chaoyao’s cheek. “That’s more like it.”

Before her finger could retreat, she watched Chaoyao’s face flush red, her breath seemingly halting. The next second, Wen Zhixu’s own face burned, her breath catching as well.

Wen Zhixu quickly withdrew her hand and stammered, “Um—winter break is coming up soon. Do you have any plans?”

Chaoyao straightened up and said softly, “I want to take on a part-time job to save up for my tuition.”

Wen Zhixu’s lips curled slightly as she furrowed her brows, placing her hands on her hips. “What about your studies then?”

Chaoyao seemed lost in thought for a moment before smiling. “Then I’ll have to trouble Teacher Song to put in more effort…” She then leaned in closer and whispered, “To take care of this ‘underachiever’ of yours.”

“I…” Wen Zhixu’s breath hitched. Chaoyao was truly beautiful—her light-colored pupils made her resemble a kitten, both elegant and clingy, willing only to be close to one person. “Alright.”

Chaoyao pursed her lips and asked again, “Teacher Song, I’m 18 now. Isn’t dating legal?”

Looking at Chaoyao, who seemed so much like a kitten, Wen Zhixu couldn’t associate her with being a villain. “Legal but not advisable. Wait until you’re in university.”

Chaoyao suddenly stood up and extended her hand. “Teacher Song, I’d like to invite you to watch a movie. Would you be willing?”

Wen Zhixu took her hand. “I’d love to.”

Host, the favorability has reached 50%! You can now slowly influence her to reduce her darkening value.

Wen Zhixu asked, “What’s her darkening value?”

90%.

What?! Wen Zhixu couldn’t believe it and glanced at Chaoyao again, who simply tilted her head, wide-eyed, waiting for Wen Zhixu’s next move.

“…You’re saying her darkening value is 90%? After a day at work, I feel like my own darkening value isn’t even that high.”

Host, you’ve been deviating from the main plot—in other words, you’ve forgotten the real mission. So far, everything you’ve done seems to serve the favorability, but the actual task is to influence the female lead and change the original ending.

Wen Zhixu: “You never mentioned that!”

I thought you knew and were just taking it slow, since it’s already decreased by 10%. I even started to think you might be falling for her.

Ah… Suddenly hearing this, Wen Zhixu’s face flushed. “I understand now.”

Noticing Wen Zhixu’s prolonged silence, Chaoyao asked, “Teacher Song, is something wrong?”

Wen Zhixu: “Nothing. Let’s go watch the movie!”

–

That night, Wen Zhixu gazed at the stars outside her window. She couldn’t quite figure Chaoyao out—on the surface, she seemed perfectly normal, but could she really be hiding so much inside? Wen Zhixu was an emotional person by nature, and once her feelings took over, she often lost sight of reason. Why did the system choose her, of all people?

So frustrating!

With nothing better to do, Wen Zhixu decided to chat with Yang Yue. “How well do you know Chaoyao?”

“Chaoyao and I aren’t that close,” Yang Yue said, looking up from her phone. “But it seems like the two of you are quite familiar. Teacher Song, do you like Chaoyao?”

“Cough, cough.” Wen Zhixu suddenly choked—thankfully she wasn’t drinking anything, or she might have actually suffocated. “Why would you say that?”

“Heh heh, never mind.” Yang Yue teased before changing the subject. “Oh, remember to wake up early tomorrow. There’s an inspection in a few days, and the dean wants us to reinforce the railings so no more kids fall off.”

Wen Zhixu asked, puzzled, “More?”

“Oh right! You wouldn’t know about that.” Yang Yue slapped her thigh. “I heard a long time ago, a girl fell and didn’t make it. Chaoyao probably knows—that girl used to follow her around all the time, sweetly calling her ‘big sister.'”

“Fell down?” Wen Zhixu grew increasingly confused as she listened. “Was it an accident?”

“If you call it an accident… but you should be careful around that second-floor railing too. If you fall, you might even break a bone.”

Wen Zhixu suddenly recalled the dented spot and the cloth strips. So, when Chaoyao had warned her about falling, it was because someone had actually fallen from there? Though a second-floor fall shouldn’t be fatal… Yet her strong intuition told her this was no accident—and it was likely part of what drove Chaoyao to her dark path.

“How could someone die from a second-floor fall?” Wen Zhixu voiced the question haunting her soul.

“Exactly.” Yang Yue pulled her chair closer to Wen Zhixu. “I felt the same way at first. But everyone just accepted it, and since it happened so long ago, it was left at that. In the end, they claimed the child was too young, found too late, and couldn’t get medical help in time… so she passed.”

Wen Zhixu pressed further, “You said that little girl was close to Chaoyao?”

“Yeah.” Yang Yue nodded. “Chaoyao visits her grave every year. I even gave her a ride there recently.”

“And listen—this can’t leave this room.” Yang Yue leaned in even closer, glancing around to ensure the door was locked and no one lingered beneath the windows. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “The orphanage was strapped for cash back then. The headmistress wanted to bury the girl in the back hills, but Chaoyao refused. She just held onto the little girl’s body… Rumor has it the headmistress locked her in the dark room for it—left her there with the corpse for a full day and night.”

Wen Zhixu’s pupils dilated. No wonder Chaoyao had mentioned two other incidents from her childhood but only elaborated on the one about wanting her mother. At the time, Wen Zhixu had assumed it was just Chaoyao being stubborn and getting locked up again.

“What happened after? Was she really buried haphazardly in the hills?”

“No.” Yang Yue shook her head. Chaoyao had a large lucky lock around her neck when she arrived. She sold it to pay for a proper burial.”

A pang of sorrow struck Wen Zhixu’s heart, burning like wildfire. An indescribable ache spread through her, leaving her arms limp on the desk. If Chaoyao were here now, she would’ve pulled her into an embrace.

Wen Zhixu muttered, “If the headmistress was so harsh on them, why does she play the victim in public? I’m sure they’ve raised plenty through donations, but I haven’t seen any improvements in their lives.”

Yang Yue sighed softly. “Who knows? We weren’t there long, and… well, the headmistress has connections. There wasn’t much we could do.”

“Right.” Wen Zhixu exhaled. She’d once believed the headmistress was genuinely kind, but now saw no difference between her and those heartless capitalists.

The next morning,

During the reading session, students chanted their lessons aloud. Though few in number, their voices filled the campus.

Wen Zhixu approached the railing. The cloth strips had been rewrapped, concealing the dark reddish stains beneath. Who would guess a life had once ended here?

“Ms. Song.”

She turned to find Chaoyao standing behind her, gaze fixed on Wen Zhixu’s grip on the railing.

“That spot’s dangerous… You… shouldn’t go near it.”

Wen Zhixu straightened. “I know. I was just thinking it might need repairs. What if a child accidentally bumps into it someday?”

Chaoyao stepped forward and crouched down, first pulling the cloth strip tight. Originally chosen for visibility, the red strip was wrapped around the rusted iron railing, like a sudden burst of life appearing in their dull and monotonous existence.

“It’s useless, just be careful,” Chaoyao said.

Wen Zhixu pursed her lips. “Chaoyao, take me to see your sister.”