Villain Strategy Rules [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 46

Wen Zhixu took out a pen and thoughtfully handed one to Tang Mo. She carefully examined the test paper, then chuckled and shook a finger.

Tang Mo: “Ten points?”

Wen Zhixu: “…”

Sometimes, she really wanted to slap her. Really!

Wen Zhixu confidently declared, “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely score over a hundred.”

Qin Nanxi, seemingly worried that the test might be too difficult and leave them unable to answer any questions, had mostly included basic problems, with only a few challenging ones mixed in at the end. This ensured they wouldn’t end up with single-digit scores—after all, even the first two multiple-choice questions could be answered without high school knowledge.

But Wen Zhixu didn’t seem clueless at all. She worked through the test methodically, filling her scratch paper to the brim. While Tang Mo was still on the first page, Wen Zhixu had already flipped to the next.

Tang Mo stopped writing, staring at Wen Zhixu in shock. She felt there was no point in continuing! Was this really the same Jiang she had known since childhood?

An hour and a half later, Wen Zhixu pushed the test paper toward Qin Nanxi and said earnestly, “Please review it.”

Then, glancing at Tang Mo, who was idly twirling her pen, she asked, “Time’s up. Why haven’t you handed yours in?”

Tang Mo continued playing with her pen, pursing her lips and balancing it on her mouth as she mumbled, “I don’t think there’s any point in submitting mine.”

Wen Zhixu: “What?”

Tang Mo removed the pen. “I said there’s no point in handing it in!”

Aside from the multiple-choice questions and a few small answers, her paper was mostly blank, and only a quarter of her scratch paper had been used. Normally, struggling with the test wouldn’t have bothered her—but she couldn’t accept that her friend had finished it all!!!

Wen Zhixu raised an eyebrow. “Just wait. If I pass, we won’t have to study today. We can go out instead.”

Had it been earlier that morning, Tang Mo would’ve scoffed. But now, she was starting to believe it. Math wasn’t like literature—if someone could fill out the entire paper, they probably knew what they were doing.

She frowned. “When did you learn all this? I had no idea.”

Wen Zhixu: “…”

She couldn’t exactly say… she’d learned it in another world! Besides, she’d studied it for two years—some things just stuck. Not to mention, she’d graduated from a top-tier university. She didn’t just know high school material; she even understood concepts Qin Nanxi might not.

“Maybe…” Wen Zhixu’s mind raced before she solemnly declared, “Maybe it’s because I’ve been staring at Qin Nanxi every day. When my eyes got tired, I’d glance down, and she was always studying. Over time… I just picked it up…”

Her voice grew quieter as she spoke, until even she didn’t believe her own words. If Tang Mo bought this excuse, Wen Zhixu would have to conclude she was an idiot.

“Oh~” Tang Mo pondered.

Wen Zhixu froze for a second, her body tense, eyes darting around, a faint sweat forming on her forehead.

A minute later…

Tang Mo: “I don’t buy it.”

See? Her friend wasn’t a complete fool—she had some brains. Wen Zhixu felt slightly relieved, but before she could respond, Tang Mo added,

“You were probably using ‘asking questions’ as an excuse to flirt with Qin Nanxi, right?”

Honestly, this friend of hers wasn’t half bad. But couldn’t she at least watch her words? Qin Nanxi was right there, grading their papers…

Wen Zhixu rubbed her temples. “Just wait.”

Ten minutes later,

Qin Nanxi handed the test paper back to Wen Zhixu—118 points. Even the mistakes were textbook: multiple-choice questions, the last two fill-in-the-blanks, and the second parts of the final two major problems.

Qin Nanxi said flatly, “Where to?”

“Where to?” Wen Zhixu was clearly dissatisfied with this response. She asked, “Don’t you have anything you want to ask?”

This test was designed by Qin Nanxi herself, and there were no answers available online. After reviewing Wen Zhixu’s problem-solving approach and scratch paper, it was clear she genuinely understood the material. Moreover, her solutions to some questions were methods Qin Nanxi had never even considered.

Qin Nanxi had her doubts, but then she remembered Wen Zhixu had previously attended an elite high school—what they were exposed to there was on a completely different level. Wen Zhixu’s usual poor grades were likely just due to lack of effort.

“Nothing to ask,” Qin Nanxi replied, handing over the answer key. “If you actually put in the effort, your grades would definitely be outstanding.”

“Nanxi, let’s go read together this afternoon. I’ll take you to a library—though it’s a bit far, up in the mountains. Are you up for it?” Wen Zhixu abruptly changed the subject. This kind of deflection was something people of all ages seemed to use.

In school, it was “good grades.” At work, it was “good performance.” Everything was about being “good.” Would they still be talking about “good grades” after getting married, even at night?

“Sure,” Qin Nanxi nodded. “Today’s our promised date, after all.”

Just then, Tang Mo suddenly spoke up. “Take—”

Wen Zhixu cut in, “Not taking you.”

Tang Mo: “…”

“You’re really going to leave me alone at home? What if my mom video calls and finds out the three of us aren’t together?”

Wen Zhixu frowned. “Aren’t you going out with your senior?”

Tang Mo let out a long sigh, exuding an aura of misery. “Last night, I told my senior I had to study, so she went back to her hometown early this morning. It’s really, really far.”

She had been just about to ask her senior out when the senior beat her to it, sending an address—in another province—along with photos of some stunning architecture, saying she’d take Tang Mo there next time.

With only a day to spare, Tang Mo couldn’t possibly make it. And knowing her family, nightly check-ins were non-negotiable.

Wen Zhixu didn’t want to bring Tang Mo, but her reasoning was sound—what if someone checked in? Besides, the library was quiet and had multiple floors. They could just keep Tang Mo at a distance.

“Fine.”

–

By the time they arrived at the library, it was already noon. The autumn sun wasn’t harsh, its warmth just enough to chase away the lingering chill. The mountain air was crisp, punctuated by the occasional clear call of birds. Nearby, a clear spring bubbled softly, its gentle murmur bringing a sense of peace.

Given its remote location, the library was surprisingly well-equipped. The first floor housed a small café, while the upper floors were dedicated to books of every genre, each category on a different level. Today, Wen Zhixu wanted to take Qin Nanxi to the fiction section—to read about other people’s passionate love stories together.

They might not have a grand, dramatic romance, but even small disruptions in their ordinary lives could deepen their bond.

Wen Zhixu led them to the first floor and asked, “Anything you’d like to eat? The options here are limited, but I’d recommend the stir-fried dishes—the vegetables are all grown by the aunties here, so they’re really fresh and tasty.”

Tang Mo was still looking around. She had no idea about this library—when had Wen Zhixu found out about it? So she asked, “How come I’ve never been here before?”

Actually, Wen Zhixu hadn’t been here either. One night while discussing mission strategies with her system, she’d searched and discovered this place. Skeptical of the system’s information, Wen Zhixu had visited twice to verify and found it truly wonderful.

This secluded library was opened by a married lesbian couple who, tired of the city’s noise, had returned to their hometown to create this sanctuary. Hidden in the mountains, the library seemed to cradle their private hearts—secret yet beautiful.

Wen Zhixu casually replied, “I asked my mom. She said we could come here to relax when we’re tired.”

“Nanxi, Tang Mo, do you like it?”

They answered in unison: “We do.”

Qin Nanxi suddenly said, “Thank you.”

She knew Wen Zhixu had chosen this date spot according to her preferences. On that lost scrap of paper was written a single line:

“I want to hide in the quiet mountains and disappear.”

The library wasn’t empty, but apart from the cricket-like chatter on the first floor, only the rustling of turning pages could be heard upstairs—like a breeze through leaves, bringing coolness and faint fragrance that stirred hearts.

Wen Zhixu didn’t speak, only smiled. The scrap paper had flown onto her desk by chance; the information was heaven-sent. She simply believed she and Qin Nanxi were destined.

“Let me take you to eat then…”

Host, detecting significant affection increase—now at 80%.

Wen Zhixu froze. She hadn’t expected Qin Nanxi’s sudden change of heart. Sometimes she wished Qin Nanxi were easier to pursue for closeness, yet other times hoped she’d remain guarded so others couldn’t hurt her.

“Nanxi…” Wen Zhixu stopped walking, then whispered lightning-fast in Qin Nanxi’s ear, “I love you.”

After speaking, she quickly turned and led them to a restaurant.

The stir-fry shop had only one auntie working today. Seeing three girls—two with flushed faces—she smiled knowingly: “Here for dinner?”

Wen Zhixu nodded shyly, “Mhm… yes.”

Tang Mo didn’t know what happened but guessed correctly, so she quietly distanced herself to give them space.

Handing them menus, the auntie casually complimented, “You’re all so pretty. Still high schoolers?”

Qin Nanxi’s uniform clearly displayed “No.1 High School”—the auntie was just making conversation to praise them.

“Thank you,” Wen Zhixu said politely, then asked, “Auntie, did you want to say something?”

“Oh my!” The auntie looked surprised. “You’re sharp. Nothing really, just seeing you reminds me of my high school days.”

People naturally love gossip, even the quiet ones. All three looked at her expectantly. Tang Mo prompted, “Tell us?”

“Hahaha!” The auntie laughed, tucking hair behind her ear. “Never mind—this auntie’s too old.”

Wen Zhixu protested, “Who says you’re old? You look young.”

The aunt was nearly forty but maintained herself extremely well. With her single eyelids and not a wrinkle in sight, her long-term life in the mountains—eating homegrown vegetables and raised poultry, drinking filtered mountain spring water—had left her skin firm and youthful, making her age truly indiscernible.

Not wanting to disturb the youngsters, the aunt said to Wen Zhixu, “There’s a book on the third floor, on the top shelf of the far-right bookcase, labeled number 69. You two can go take a look.”

“Two…” Wen Zhixu murmured, but seeing Qin Nanxi lower her head, she understood—the aunt had figured out their relationship! “Alright, thank you, auntie. We’ll go check it out.”

After finishing their meal, Wen Zhixu and Qin Nanxi divided tasks. Following the aunt’s directions, Wen Zhixu found the book. It had been flipped through many times, its surface covered in scratches, but the number 69 remained strikingly clear, immediately catching the eye.

Qin Nanxi remarked, “This book doesn’t seem to have a title.”

To call it a book was both accurate and not. It was a compilation of handwritten pages bound together, some so old the writing had faded. Each entry was signed by its authors—always two names, like a loving couple showcasing their affection, sealing their shared story with this contract.

“Nanxi, look.” Wen Zhixu accidentally flipped to page 69, which stood out with just a few sparse lines of dialogue:

Lian: Do you love me?
Yang: I do.
Lian: For a lifetime? No matter life or death?
Yang: Yes, no matter life or death.
Lian: Then do you believe in alternate dimensions? That we’ll meet again, won’t we?
Yang: I believe it. Wait for me. I’ll come find you—to save you.

There were no signatures, only their surnames. The cryptic dialogue made little sense to outsiders, but Wen Zhixu understood. She knew of alternate dimensions—after all, she was in one now.

“006, what does this mean?”

Host, you’re my first. I can’t tell you about predecessors, but I can say this is about salvation—mutual salvation.

Mutual salvation? Wen Zhixu’s thoughts raced. Did that mean she and Qin Nanxi knew each other before?

“Have we… met before?”

Shifting names, changing personalities, swapped identities—Wen Zhixu was starting to lose clarity.

Once you complete the mission, all will be answered.

Fine. Wen Zhixu wasn’t in a hurry to know. Even without the mission, she’d have wanted to change Qin Nanxi’s life. She’d come to realize there were no born villains—only those forged by oppression.

Qin Nanxi flipped to the first page, her expression unreadable. The movement was too quick for Wen Zhixu to react, but the quiet surroundings soon drew her into the strangers’ stories.

Outside the library, autumn wind rustled through the trees. Osmanthus blossoms perfumed the air, slipping through the window’s narrow gaps. Noon sunlight streamed in, bathing them in warmth—everything felt perfect.

Since talking wasn’t allowed, Wen Zhixu wrote on paper:

They were so happy.

When the note was passed to Qin Nanxi, she remained silent for a moment before picking up her pen to write:

“Mhm.”

The stories were too beautiful, blurring the line between reality and dreams for people. The couples in these tales shared sweet affection—raising kittens and puppies together, kissing at sunset, falling in love amid spring breezes.

What left the deepest impression on Wen Zhixu was the story about that teacher. She had fallen in love with her student. The nine-year age gap and their unconventional roles made their relationship an uphill battle. Unaccepted by society and disowned by family, the teacher eventually chose to leave to protect her student.

This was the only story without a happy ending—until the student later found the teacher and reconciled.

Though unrelated to Wen Zhixu’s current life, one detail stood out: the student had been introverted with a small social circle, showing little emotion to anyone. The teacher had given her a cat that became their companion for years.

She thought: They could do that too.

“Do you like cats?”

Qin Nanxi nearly dropped her pen upon reading the question, her heart restless. She did have a cat at home—one that survived on scraps and garbage.

Once, she’d tried sneaking it away, but the moment they arrived, the cat was hidden. Left with no choice, she began paying a neighbor monthly to ensure the cat had proper food, allowing it to survive.

As the kitten’s image grew clearer in her mind, Qin Nanxi couldn’t hold back—tears streaked down her cheeks, dripping onto the paper and smudging the words.

Wen Zhixu glanced around and, seeing no one nearby, leaned closer to whisper, “What’s wrong?”

After a long pause, as if struck by inspiration, Qin Nanxi wrote:

“Could you do me a favor?”

Wen Zhixu nodded.

Qin Nanxi smiled.

“I’ll pay you—pretend to be a tourist and buy a cat for me, okay?”

Few knew Wen Zhixu’s background. Her student records weren’t at this school, and her ID showed her previous elite academy. She was the perfect choice.

Qin Nanxi had previously tried hiring outsiders, but her mother would check their IDs and refuse the sale if they attended the same school—knowing that if her “worthless daughter” got hold of a cat, she’d never be controlled again.

Now, desperate, this was her last attempt.

Host, that cat was raised by Qin Nanxi. It’s said to be tied to her corruption value. Her parents used it to lure her home when they tried selling her off, then killed it before her eyes.

Wen Zhixu: “…”

She loved animals, believing them humanity’s true companions. The thought of such cruelty sickened her—those who harmed defenseless creatures were society’s lowest scum.

“Okay.” The word slipped out before Wen Zhixu could stop herself. She quickly pressed her lips shut, scanning the room before nodding emphatically.

Qin Nanxi calculated the plan. After one failure, her mother would be suspicious.

“Could you pretend to be sightseeing with bodyguards, ‘accidentally’ visit my house? We have a large osmanthus tree—very fragrant. Say you want to buy it, then ‘notice’ the cat and say you like it?”

The kitten was chained beneath that osmanthus tree, its tiny cage a prison for life.

Wen Zhixu agreed, and not only was she determined to secure the kitten, but she also intended to make the other party regret their actions.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Let’s go now, okay?”

According to the system’s description, Qin Nanxi adored this kitten and was deeply concerned about it, so the matter was best resolved sooner rather than later.

A glimmer of hope shone in Qin Nanxi’s eyes. In the cramped corner, she hugged Wen Zhixu tightly and whispered softly in her ear, “Thank you.”