Villain Strategy Rules [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 2

Wen Zhixu didn’t know where she had gone wrong. Was her intention that obvious? Probably not.

Perhaps it was just the novel’s setup. After all, when she read this book, the author described it like this: A cold beauty goes astray, the top scorer in the college entrance exam changes her fate, but before the semester even begins, she kills several people, plunging her life into darkness.

However, one thing was certain—Chaoyao would be safe before the college entrance exams. One month wouldn’t be enough? Then two. Two months wouldn’t suffice? Then three! In any case, she had to successfully “guide” Chaoyao before university started and prevent her from going down the wrong path.

“Right!” Wen Zhixu suddenly exclaimed, crushing the eggshell in her hand.

Yang Yue looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

Wen Zhixu casually finished peeling the egg. “Nothing, just a pre-peeling ritual.”

Yang Yue burst into laughter. “Hahaha, you’re so funny.”

“Ah.” Yang Yue suddenly stopped laughing and glanced toward the door. “Was Chaoyao assigned to the dorm next to ours?”

Wen Zhixu saw that Chaoyao had changed into casual clothes—a black cotton jacket. After picking up her food, she sat directly at the table next to theirs.

Wen Zhixu was shocked. Wen Zhixu was stunned. Wen Zhixu was overjoyed!

She took the initiative! That meant Chaoyao must have warmed up to her. Why else would she sit next to her when there were so many empty seats? It had to be because Wen Zhixu helped her move earlier—now Chaoyao had taken a liking to her.

Wen Zhixu lowered her voice. “Yeah, the director assigned her next to us and asked us to help with her studies.”

Generally, children from the orphanage were allowed to leave once they got into high school. Those who made it to university would continue to receive financial support, but after graduation, they had to return and serve as volunteer teachers for two years.

Wen Zhixu and Yang Yue were exceptions. This year, the director had appealed to the public for help, and since they were from a teachers’ college, they were randomly selected to intern here during their senior year.

Yang Yue said, “She might even end up at your school. It’s one of the best, after all.”

The school was great—the teachers, not so much. With her omniscient perspective, Wen Zhixu knew Song Nuan had been framed. Originally, Song Nuan had drawn the best-resourced school, but a teacher’s niece had gotten the orphanage, so the teacher abused her authority to swap their assignments, depriving Song Nuan of the better opportunity.

If she succeeded in her “mission,” she would definitely ask the system to provide evidence to report that teacher. It would be compensation for usurping Song Nuan’s identity—after all, the real Song Nuan had been killed on her way here.

Unexpectedly, Chaoyao had sharp ears and overheard their conversation. With interest, she asked, “Which school did Teacher Song graduate from?”

“Teacher Song is amazing,” Yang Yue boasted loudly. “She’s a top student!”

The more Yang Yue praised her, the redder Wen Zhixu’s face grew. She felt so ashamed—those achievements belonged to Song Nuan, not her!

Chaoyao said, “Then I’ll have to trouble Teacher Song to help me with my studies. Thank you, Teacher Song.”

Wen Zhixu forced an awkward smile. “No problem, no problem.”

She thought someone as proud as Chaoyao would never lower herself to ask for help. This was probably just politeness.

The bell rang again—morning reading had begun. Wen Zhixu gathered her dishes. “It’s my turn to supervise today. I’ll head out first.”

Yang Yue: “Alright, see you in the office later.”

This branch school had few children. For morning reading sessions, except for math, all other subjects were taught together, so one teacher was enough to supervise. If some lower grades hadn’t covered certain content yet, it would serve as early preparation for them.

When Wen Zhixu walked past Chaoyao, the latter kept staring at her with eyes like an icy wind, sending chills down Wen Zhixu’s spine.

“System, can you give me a hint on how to improve the favorability rating?”

Love.

“Do you think if someone dislikes you and you suddenly say you love them, they’d think you’re crazy or just sick in the head?”

I think they’d be touched.

“How naive.”

“Teacher Song.”

Wen Zhixu turned around to see Chaoyao striding toward her. She stopped and asked, puzzled, “What’s wrong?”

Chaoyao approached and said, “I’ll be attending the morning reading session too. Could you help me with some problems later?”

Wen Zhixu: “…”

Oh no, this is getting out of hand. Do you realize you’re breaking character? The novel describes you as aloof, proud, diligent, and serious. How can I tutor you without tarnishing your self-taught genius reputation?

But since things had come to this, Wen Zhixu replied, “If I can help…”

Chaoyao interrupted, “Teacher, if we don’t go now, won’t we be late?”

Already nervous, Wen Zhixu felt her habitual last-minute arrival anxiety kick in at Chaoyao’s words. As she turned abruptly, her feet failed to react in time, and she stumbled straight into Chaoyao.

Fortunately, though slender, Chaoyao was tall enough to steady her.

Wen Zhixu’s face buried in the other’s neck, strands of hair lightly brushing her cheeks—now she was blushing. She’d go through fire and water for this mission to save this beauty’s life.

Chaoyao whispered, “Teacher Song, are you okay?”

Wen Zhixu looked up abruptly into a pair of amber eyes, cold and distant, accentuated by fair skin. She’d always thought she preferred big, expressive eyes, but Chaoyao’s unique beauty captivated her—like the bright moon, a lone star in the night sky.

“Ah, I’m fine, thank you…” Wen Zhixu steadied herself and stole another glance at Chaoyao.

Author!!! What were you thinking!!! Why would such an outstanding girl ruin her own future in the end?

Chaoyao gently touched the stray hair on Wen Zhixu’s forehead. “Your hair’s messy. Let’s head back to class together.”

Wen Zhixu stammered, “O-okay.”

The walk back was silent. Wen Zhixu walked ahead, stealing glances at their shadows on the ground—occasionally overlapping, their hair intertwining like inseparable lovers.

Wen Zhixu wondered if Chaoyao’s opinion of her had changed. Maybe she’d initially thought Wen Zhixu was incompetent and offered tutoring out of disdain, but now, knowing she graduated from a top university, had reconsidered?

“System, I want to check the favorability rating.”

Host, you’re only supposed to check once per day.

“Then I quit the mission.”

Host, don’t you want to live?

“Not anymore.”

-35%.

If her earlier “not anymore” was a lie to the system, Wen Zhixu now genuinely meant it.

What the hell is this? Weren’t they getting along just fine? Why does the favorability keep dropping? How am I supposed to play like this? Forget it.

At that moment, Chaoyao suddenly asked, “Teacher Song, you don’t seem very happy?”

“Not at all,” Wen Zhixu replied with a sweet smile. “We’re at the classroom now, time to study. I’m looking forward to seeing Chaoyao get into the top university.”

Chaoyao slightly parted her lips as if to say something more, but seeing the other children had already started their morning reading, she didn’t press further. She picked up a book and went to study in the adjacent classroom.

Noticing this, Wen Zhixu secretly peeked over. Chaoyao had gone to the neighboring classroom alone—the teachers wouldn’t interfere with her. She was the only student in the high school division, and even her teachers weren’t much older than her. Most of the time, she had to rely on self-study.

Chaoyao was very bright. She had excelled in her first two years of high school, and now, with just over half a year left in her senior year, she had already covered all the fundamental material. Self-study was enough for her.

“Teacher Song.” Chaoyao accidentally looked up and locked eyes with Wen Zhixu. She paused her writing. “Is there something you need?”

Wen Zhixu glanced around before replying, “No, you must have imagined it. I was just stretching.”

Chaoyao: “Then please be careful, Teacher. The railing here isn’t stable—you could fall. Breaking a bone wouldn’t be good.”

Though it was a well-meaning reminder, Wen Zhixu couldn’t shake off a strange feeling. She instinctively looked at the second-floor railing. The rusted iron bars wobbled precariously, some sections dented, with a strip of cloth tied between two of the posts.

Wen Zhixu had never paid attention to these details before, but Chaoyao’s comment piqued her curiosity. She stepped closer to inspect. Beneath the black cloth was a broken iron bar, stained with deep red bl00d—likely from someone scraping their skin. The cloth had been tied as a safety measure.

Wen Zhixu reached to rewrap the cloth, but standing at the edge, even on just the second floor, a wave of dizziness hit her. She grabbed the nearby railing, only to find it shaky. Using all her strength, she threw herself backward, landing on the floor before her nerves settled.

“Teacher Song.” Chaoyao crouched beside her. “I told you it was dangerous.”

Wen Zhixu said, “I know. I just wanted to check. See? My reflexes are pretty quick.”

By then, several students inside had curiously poked their heads out. The once lively morning reading session had fallen silent. Wen Zhixu stood up. “Hurry back to your reading. First period is Chinese—Teacher Yang mentioned there’d be a poetry recitation quiz.”

At that, the students scrambled back into the classroom, and the sound of reading resumed instantly.

Chaoyao said, “Be careful, Teacher Song. Also, can I ask you for help if I have questions?”

…

Please, not math. Not math!

Wen Zhixu: “What subject…?”

Chaoyao: “Chinese.”

“You should’ve said so earlier,” Wen Zhixu blurted out before catching herself. “I’m best at Chinese.”

Wen Zhixu followed Chaoyao into the empty classroom. Chaoyao’s desk was neatly arranged, but the first thing that caught Wen Zhixu’s eye was a math test paper.

Oh no… Please don’t let it be a math question.

Chaoyao pulled out another test paper from her desk and pointed at a passage. “Teacher, I don’t know how to write this essay. Can you teach me?”

Wen Zhixu was baffled. “What do you mean?”

Who reaches their senior year of high school without knowing how to write an essay—and asks a teacher for help?

Chaoyao parted her thin lips slightly and said, “The essay topic is ‘The Most Unforgettable Person in My Life,’ but I don’t have anyone unforgettable. How should I write it?”

Wen Zhixu smiled and replied, “If you don’t have anyone, then write about me. You can use me as your subject. But as someone who’s been through it, let me tell you—the college entrance exam wouldn’t give such a simple essay prompt. Don’t overthink it.”

Chaoyao tapped her pen lightly against the test paper. “But how could my teacher become unforgettable? Maybe if you spent a few days with me?”