Villain Strategy Rules [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 48

After arriving home, the housekeeper had already prepared dinner. Tang Mo reheated it ten minutes before they returned so they could eat as soon as they got back.

Qin Nanxi was exhausted and had no appetite. She went straight to her room to shower and rest.

Hearing the faint sound of running water from the bedroom, Tang Mo asked worriedly, “Is the kitten okay?”

“She’s fine,” Wen Zhixu shook her head. “She just needs to stay in the hospital for a while.”

Tang Mo half-leaned on the table, muttering, “I’d only ever heard rumors about Qin Nanxi’s family—mostly that they were poor, harsh, and even seemed reluctant to let her go to school.”

Then she straightened up. “But from what I saw today, her family isn’t poor at all. They might not be wealthy, but they’re far from destitute. That osmanthus tree might be expensive at a million, but it could definitely be sold. Her younger sister is also well taken care of. So why treat Qin Nanxi like this?”

Qin Nanxi’s family lived in a two-story villa, self-built but well-decorated—one of the best in the village. Tang Mo couldn’t understand why they were so harsh on Qin Nanxi.

Tang Mo had two older sisters, and their parents treated them all fairly, letting each pursue their own interests. Admittedly, she benefited from this, but their parents never forced her sisters into anything.

She couldn’t comprehend why some people believed one child existed solely to serve another.

Wen Zhixu pressed a finger to Tang Mo’s lips, worried her voice might carry, then whispered, “Everyone’s experiences are different. We’ve lived too smoothly to truly understand. If her family favors her sister, it’s because they know they have a safety net—no matter what happens, someone will always sacrifice for them.”

“But…” Tang Mo studied Wen Zhixu curiously. “How do you know all this? How did you figure it out so precisely? And why are you with Qin Nanxi?”

Wen Zhixu: “…”

Because I came here with omniscient perspective. Because this is my third life. Because I’ve lived two centuries longer than you.

“Because I love her.”

Tang Mo: “…”

The sudden display of affection left her feeling inexplicably annoyed.

Wen Zhixu patted her shoulder. “Alright, I’m going to rest after eating.”

Today had been full of twists and turns, with emotions shifting too rapidly. She was genuinely tired.

“Wait.” Tang Mo grabbed Wen Zhixu’s sleeve. “You still haven’t told me how your math improved so much.”

Wen Zhixu: “Didn’t I say this morning?”

Tang Mo scoffed. “Like I’d believe that. Tell me the real reason.”

Wen Zhixu took her hand and said solemnly, “I earned it through hard work.”

Then, worried Tang Mo would keep pestering her, she patted her shoulder again. “Everyone who works hard deserves rewards. You can do it too. Keep it up, my little fluttering moth.”

Tang Mo was thin and not particularly short, though still shorter than Wen Zhixu. Whenever they argued, she’d flail her arms and legs like a fluttering moth—a habit she’d picked up from who-knows-where. Hence, Wen Zhixu had given her the nickname, which fit surprisingly well.

Tang Mo flailed her arms. “I told you not to call me that!”

But Wen Zhixu had already dashed away, slipping into her room and locking the door with a click.

Qin Nanxi was asleep, and Wen Zhixu didn’t turn on the lights. She tiptoed into bed and had just opened her phone when the screen’s glow reflected a pair of watching eyes.

“Nan—” Before Wen Zhixu could finish speaking, her lips were covered.

Host, affection level has maxed out!

But Wen Zhixu had no chance to reply to the system. Her mind momentarily blanked as the sudden kiss, fierce and demanding like a raging beast, left her adrift—sometimes floating softly in the sea, her body pliant under the caress of waves, other times intensifying until her heart raced like galloping across a prairie, the breeze lifting the hem of her light green dress as it blended with the earth, their bodies merging until nothing remained.

Wen Zhixu yielded to Qin Nanxi. She didn’t know how much time had passed when, just as they were both struggling for breath, Qin Nanxi released her.

“Nan… Nanxi…” Wen Zhixu whispered. In their relationship, she had always been the assertive one. Now, Qin Nanxi’s sudden initiative gave her a different illusion—perhaps they had always been equals.

Qin Nanxi pressed a finger to Wen Zhixu’s lips and murmured, “Qingyue… by birth month, I’m older than you… shouldn’t you call me… sister?”

But in actual age, I’m older than you! After all, in both worlds, you’re a student, while in the first world, I was a teacher. Wen Zhixu mentally protested, but obediently said aloud, “Then… sister.”

Qin Nanxi smiled. The only light in the bedroom came from the faint glow of the phone screen. Her fingers trailed down, circling Wen Zhixu’s collarbone before she lowered her head to kiss it, her tongue lightly flicking the spot. “Qingyue… I’ve never been a good girl.”

Wen Zhixu’s face flushed. The touch on her collarbone sent electric currents through her body, her heart jolting before settling into a deep, resonant rhythm, as if trying to break through steel walls. She suddenly laughed, tracing Qin Nanxi’s lips as she said, “Sister… I’m not a good girl either. Otherwise… how would we have met?”

She turned off her phone, extinguishing the last light in the room. In the darkness, they stole glances at each other, bodies pressed close as if edged by slowly closing blades—any gap left between them would mean being pierced, doomed beyond redemption.

The night breeze rustled the branches outside, moonlight casting dappled shadows that swayed with the wind, obscuring their vision.

Qin Nanxi slowly slipped off her nightgown. Resting her head on Wen Zhixu’s shoulder, she unzipped Wen Zhixu’s dress and whispered, “Tonight… let’s just treat it as… a shared dream.”

“Nanxi…” Wen Zhixu pulled the blanket over Qin Nanxi’s bare body, needing to know whether this was gratitude or genuine love. “If this is about the cat… you don’t have to do this.”

A sharp pain shot through her lips as the taste of bl00d filled her mouth. Wen Zhixu gasped. Qin Nanxi had bitten her, then kissed the wound as if punishing her words, alternating between gentleness and force until Wen Zhixu trembled. Finally releasing her, Qin Nanxi murmured, “Just indulge my selfish desire… After tonight, we’ll both forget her.”

Wen Zhixu extended her tongue to lick the wound, the dampness bringing a faint sting. She loved this punishment—perhaps tonight, she wouldn’t acknowledge Jiang Qingyue or Qin Nanxi’s identities. She would pretend they didn’t exist.

The pain heightened her emotions, their bare bodies growing increasingly feverish, clothes discarded somewhere unknown. But with people downstairs, even when pushed to her limit, she restrained herself, muffling her sounds.

She wiped away the bl00d with her fingers, then traced them lightly over Qin Nanxi’s ear, the lobe burning hot. Wen Zhixu’s fingertips glided along its contours before she pulled Nanxi into an embrace, murmuring, “Fine… then let’s act like we know nothing.”

“Qingyue.” Qin Nanxi shuddered under the heat, her ear tingling as her hands wandered over the other’s back. “You’re being naughty.”

“Then… what counts as well-behaved?” Wen Zhixu loosened her hold, her gaze drifting as she studied Nanxi.

The wound on her lip was too glaring, the vivid red drawing Nanxi’s gaze downward. She reached out, brushing her fingers over Wen Zhixu’s lips before slipping past them to rest against her teeth. “You can bite… but gently.”

Wen Zhixu’s crescent eyes curved as her tongue flicked against Nanxi’s fingertip, then coiled around it. The quiet room soon filled with soft, wet sounds, their heartbeats tangling together, skin pressed close, warmth shared. Wen Zhixu felt her body growing weaker, her pulse spiraling out of control. When she finally pulled back, she whispered,

“Nanxi… what else… do you want?”

Qin Nanxi advanced step by step until Wen Zhixu was pressed against the headboard. Leaning over her, she murmured, “Qingyue… I want to be with you tonight.”

Her fingers roamed freely over Wen Zhixu’s body, teasing, tracing, the fleeting chill of her touch drawing shudders and soft moans. Nanxi paused, hovering above her, then lowered her head to nip at the inside of Wen Zhixu’s thigh.

“Ah—” A sensation unlike anything before surged through Wen Zhixu—like lying in an endless field by a spring river, surrounded by the faint scent of flowers.

But her cry only spurred Qin Nanxi on. She bit harder, then soothed the mark with her tongue, the contact sending electric currents through Wen Zhixu’s body, leaving her limp. With the last shred of her rationality, she gasped, “Nanxi… are you sure? Is this… ah—… real?”

Nanxi sat up slightly, panting, a smirk curling her lips. The moisture on her fingers had dried, leaving them taut. She leaned down to smooth Wen Zhixu’s disheveled hair and murmured, “It’s real… This isn’t for you… It’s for me.”

Host! Why is the favorability meter showing an exclamation mark?!

“Get lost.”

Okay.

Wen Zhixu chuckled softly, caressing Nanxi’s face before lowering her voice. “Then that’s unfair… I… want you too.”

She mimicked Nanxi’s earlier movements—the ones that had brought her such pleasure. Surely, Nanxi would feel the same. Before long, Qin Nanxi was lost in ecstasy, the two of them slipping into another world together.

Wen Zhixu’s consciousness grew hazy as stars winked outside the window—sometimes singly, sometimes in clusters—all secretly observing. The darkness was split by a flash of white light, creating a brief fissure. Then the light vanished, leaving complete darkness that swallowed all attention.

With a “clang,” the flowerpot nearby toppled over. Glass shattered instantly, its crisp sound masking a faint rustling noise. The quilt slid down, its corner grazing a shard and leaving a mark.

But this would remain their secret—known only to the two of them.