Villain Strategy Rules [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 30

Wen Zhixu’s heart trembled. In her memory, Chaoyao had been abandoned by her father. If he were to learn of her existence now, who knew what terrible things he might do?

Seeing Wen Zhixu remain silent, Mother Song spoke again, “Let’s make a deal. I’ll give you information about him, and you must never appear before Song Chaoyao again.”

“What? Are you asking me to break the law?” Wen Zhixu raised an eyebrow.

Mother Song chuckled lightly. “There are many ways to deal with a person, and breaking the law is the lowest of them. I believe you know what to do.”

She opened her handbag, took out an envelope, and slid it across the table to Wen Zhixu. “His address is inside. I think our deal is settled.”

Wen Zhixu’s heart skipped a beat as she accepted the envelope. Standing up, she said, “Don’t worry. I won’t return to the Song family. You have nothing to fear. Consider these two items today as proof of our successful transaction.”

She left the café with the golden locket and the envelope, stopping at a corner to open it. Inside was a piece of paper with an address and a few photos of Chaoyao’s father.

Wen Zhixu studied the address carefully—it wasn’t far from the orphanage. All these years, he had never once thought to see his own daughter.

Mother Song’s words had been too revealing. Perhaps she had unwittingly harmed Chaoyao by bringing her into the public eye, making her visible to her father. And now, with him struggling in dire circumstances, who knew what he might demand from this long-lost daughter?

The most important question was… how would Chaoyao feel about this?

By the time Wen Zhixu returned to the mall, Yang Yue was still picking out clothes. A pile of shopping bags surrounded her, their contents—judging by the colorful fabric peeking out—clearly meant for herself, given her preference for bright hues. Her usual outfit consisted of red pants and a sky-blue top. Wen Zhixu had once asked why she dressed so vividly, to which Yang Yue had simply replied, “Because I love it.”

Spotting Wen Zhixu, Yang Yue waved excitedly. “What do you think of the outfits I picked? My mom just sent me money—hehe! I’m buying them all.”

Yang Yue’s mother was a hospital director, always busy, but she fully supported her daughter’s choices, believing in raising girls with abundance so they could enjoy a comfortable life.

Wen Zhixu glanced at the clothes—just as vibrant as she’d expected—and nodded. “They’re nice. Bright and pretty.”

“Ah, you don’t get it,” Yang Yue sighed, pulling a red dress from the rack and eyeing Wen Zhixu appraisingly. “With skin as fair as yours, it’s a shame you don’t wear red more often.”

Truthfully, Wen Zhixu loved red too—but Song Nuan didn’t. Song Nuan’s wardrobe was filled with soft, muted tones, mostly whites.

Taking the dress, Wen Zhixu said, “Fine, I’ll try it on for you.”

Yang Yue smirked. “Go ahead. I’ll pick something for Chaoyao too.”

“No need,” Wen Zhixu refused immediately. “I’ll choose for her myself.”

The red dress Yang Yue had selected was a strapless mini with a floral accent at the waist, revealing glimpses of skin with every movement. Wen Zhixu’s fair complexion and perfectly proportioned figure made the dress look striking yet elegant—like a rose blooming defiantly in the darkness, a burst of light in the cramped fitting room.

When Wen Zhixu stepped out, Yang Yue was instantly stunned. “This is absolutely gorgeous! You have to wear this dress today—it’ll bring me so much face.”

“Don’t.” Wen Zhixu glanced at the mirror, imagining herself with red lips, then smiled faintly. “I don’t want to freeze to death. This dress has its perfect moment, but it’s definitely not now.”

Later, Wen Zhixu took off the dress and helped Chaoyao pick out a light blue gown with a layer of tulle on the outside, a string of pearls at the waist, and roses blooming along the side of the skirt.

Wen Zhixu thought to herself—wasn’t Chaoyao also a rose? A rose nurtured by her own affection.

At the same time, she also picked out a white dress for Chaoyao. It wasn’t for the coming-of-age ceremony, but to celebrate the moment her exam results were released, as a reward.

–

After returning, Wen Zhixu followed the address and found Chaoyao’s father. The man, once a heavy drinker, was now sitting in front of his house basking in the sun, holding a young child. Time had left deep marks on his face, and a long scar ran across his weathered skin. The little girl, though pale, wore an unwavering smile.

But Chaoyao had exams coming up, and tomorrow was a rest day—she wouldn’t need to attend evening self-study. Wen Zhixu glanced around before turning to leave.

She didn’t know if this would be bad news for Chaoyao, but she suspected it would be. Yet Chaoyao was so reserved that Wen Zhixu couldn’t tell if this was a boulder weighing on her heart. Often, the one who tied the bell must untie it—the choice should be left to Chaoyao herself.

But she decided to tell her after the college entrance exams.

–

June marked the beginning of early summer. By the end of the month, cicadas had claimed the season, and the relentless sun flaunted its brilliance despite all protests. College entrance exam results were out, and families were busy helping their children apply for universities.

Wen Zhixu had always known Chaoyao would rank first, but the other two celebrated as if they’d gone mad, cheering wildly.

Wen Zhixu pulled Chaoyao outside, where the narrow path held only the two of them. Leaves drifted down with the wind, brushing past her skirt.

“Chaoyao,” Wen Zhixu suddenly turned serious. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Chaoyao froze, her emotions churning before she finally said, “Okay.”

Wen Zhixu first took out a golden locket from her pocket. “This is something you sold when you were little.”

The locket was beautiful, with a ruby at its center and a design so fresh it didn’t look like an item from over a decade ago.

Chaoyao took the locket and fell silent for a long time. The joy of her results slowly faded as she stared at it, oblivious to the ache in her arms. Soon, tears streaked down her face, landing on her pants.

The black fabric darkened visibly where her tears soaked in.

Unsure how to comfort her, Wen Zhixu simply patted her back and whispered, “Don’t be sad. It’s returned to its rightful owner—we should be happy.”

“Teacher Song.” Chaoyao set the locket down, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at Wen Zhixu before hugging her tightly. “Thank you.”

This locket was likely the only thing Chaoyao’s mother had left her. Without it, the last thread of memory had been severed.

Wen Zhixu gently patted her back. “No need to thank me. It’s what I should do.”

After a while, Chaoyao composed herself and asked, “Teacher Song, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Wen Zhixu’s hand lingered on the zipper of her bag before she finally asked, “Do you hate your father?”

The answer should be hatred.

Chaoyao froze for a moment, showing strong resistance to this question. The expression on her face revealed her thoughts.

Hatred? How could she not hate him? After her mother’s death, he became an alcoholic, claiming to have loved her deeply. Yet if not for his drinking, her mother might still be alive.

But after all these years, Chaoyao had let go. In the first year, locked in that dark room, she’d prayed to heaven for her father to take her away.

By the second year, she’d begun forgetting her parents’ faces.

By the third year, she’d grown numb.

…

Now, the long years of hardship had made her forget these things entirely.

“I’m not sure,” Chaoyao murmured.

Wen Zhixu took her hand, gently massaging the back of it with her fingers. “Hate if you want to hate. You did nothing wrong—he’s the one who failed you.”

“Yeah.” Chaoyao nodded. “I might have thought about it before, might have hated him. Now it doesn’t matter. I just don’t understand why he never came to take me home.”

Wen Zhixu asked, “Do you want to ask him why?”

She pulled a slip of paper with an address from her pocket and pressed it into Chaoyao’s hand. “From now on, you can think about it. You can agree or refuse.”

After a long silence, Chaoyao nodded. “Let’s go.”

She no longer had any feelings for her family. Now, she just… wanted an answer.

Wen Zhixu started the car and drove straight to their destination.

After getting out, Chaoyao looked at the orphanage in the distance and smiled bitterly. Then she followed Wen Zhixu until she saw a little girl playing in the yard.

The girl sat on a pink mat, holding a tattered doll, carefully tying its hair. Suddenly, a woman emerged from inside, carrying scraps of cloth and scissors. “Sweetheart,” she said tenderly, “let’s make clothes for your doll.”

Seeing someone come out, Chaoyao immediately pressed closer to the wall, hiding herself completely.

Though her view was blocked, the sounds weren’t. The little girl’s laughter carried on the wind to Chaoyao’s ears—the very thing she’d yearned for since childhood.

“Are you… Chaoyao?” Her father’s voice came from behind, startling her. The man had just returned from work, covered in dust, his face dirty. Yet there was a kindness in his eyes that was nothing like the father she remembered.

Chaoyao didn’t turn around. Wen Zhixu stepped in front of her. “Can we help you?”

“Nothing, I… I mistook you for someone else,” her father stammered. “It’s hot out—would you like to come inside?”

Chaoyao trembled. She knew he’d recognized her but didn’t want to acknowledge her. A wave of shame wracked her body, making her want to flee.

Wen Zhixu took her hand. “Sorry, we’re in a hurry.”

Chaoyao turned to leave, her steps heavy. Just as she was about to disappear from sight, her father suddenly called out, “I’m sorry!”

They stopped. Chaoyao felt her body go weak, her face stiff. Slowly, she turned back. “What exactly are you sorry for?”

Her father took an involuntary step back when she faced him. “I abandoned you back then. You can hate me for it, but I don’t want that hatred to ruin your life.”

Chaoyao scoffed. “I never gave you a second thought.”

“Yaoyao… I’m sorry. I know it’s too late for anything now, and I can’t burden you. If anything happens to you in the future, you can always come to me—if I can be of any help.”

What? Wen Zhixu was surprised. From Madam Song’s implication, she had worried that Chaoyao’s father might emotionally exploit his daughter. But now it seemed he actually wanted Chaoyao to stay away from his life, concerned about dragging her down.

“I don’t need it. I don’t have a father.”

Chaoyao pulled Wen Zhixu away immediately. Only when they got in the car did she start breathing heavily, tears streaming down uncontrollably as her emotions overwhelmed her.

Host, the corruption value has reset to zero.

Wen Zhixu had guessed right—the secret Chaoyao had buried deep in her heart was that she’d been waiting for an apology all along.

“Cry if you need to. After this, everything will be over,” Wen Zhixu offered her a tissue.

After several sobs, Chaoyao whispered, “Teacher Song, thank you…”

Wen Zhixu replied, “No need. When you’ve calmed down, we’ll go home and forget all this. Your life is just beginning.”

Chaoyao nodded, “Okay.”