Villain Strategy Rules [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 53

Qin Nanxi and the others didn’t return to the classroom. Instead, they went to the small pond. Staring at her reflection in the water, she couldn’t understand—how could people be so cruel? Even though she had anticipated it, when it actually happened, she still felt a deep ache in her heart.

The lies were so simple. Why did they have to treat her like this? They couldn’t even bother to prepare properly, hurling accusations at her so carelessly. For a moment, Qin Nanxi didn’t know whether to be angry or resigned. How much longer would she have to endure this forced way of living?

Wen Zhixu sat down beside her, resting her head on her knees. “Nanxi, are you okay? I believe in you. Nothing will happen to you.”

If it really couldn’t be resolved, she could just give up on the scholarship. Sigh. Was it really her fault? She had thought this wouldn’t happen—in the original novel, it was during the final exams when Sun Li reported her, though she couldn’t remember the exact reason.

“Qingyue…” Qin Nanxi met Wen Zhixu’s gaze, her resolve growing stronger. She asked, “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

Wen Zhixu thought she had misheard. That word didn’t seem like something Qin Nanxi would say. “What? The supernatural?”

Oh no, oh no. Could it be? Did she realize I’m not Jiang Qingyue? Wait—no, not Jiang Qingyue, but not the Jiang Qingyue of this era either! Ugh, what am I even thinking? The more I think, the more confused I get!

What does she mean?! Did I really expose myself somehow? Because of what? My gluttony? My laziness? Even Tang Mo hasn’t noticed anything!

Or was it because I was too forward that night? Not like a high schooler at all?

But that can’t be. The original owner must have been even bolder.

Qin Nanxi’s eyes flickered uncertainly. She lowered her voice. “Yeah… never mind. I just read a novel recently and mentioned it casually.”

Wen Zhixu let out a relieved breath. “Oh, I see.”

Fifteen minutes later…

“Qingyue,” Qin Nanxi spoke again. “Actually, I have a secret to tell you.”

Wen Zhixu’s heart skipped a beat. Did she really figure it out?! “What secret?”

“Actually, I… am not Qin Nan—”

“Qingyue! Nanxi! There you are!” Tang Mo, who had been searching for them, finally spotted them by the pond and called out loudly.

Wen Zhixu didn’t catch the rest of the sentence, but Qin Nanxi understood. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t let a second person know about this—not even her.

Tang Mo looked worried. “The class is in an uproar over this. Song Shuya insists that Qin Nanxi cheated, and for some reason, your deskmate is saying the same thing. Qin Nanxi has no evidence, but they have witnesses—even your mom came forward to testify. Even though everyone knows Qin Nanxi doesn’t need to cheat, outsiders don’t.”

This scholarship had drawn city-wide attention because No. 1 High was a key school, and the principal had heavily promoted it. Combined with the previous bullying incident that caused a stir online, the cheating scandal had already spread. Many who didn’t know the truth believed Qin Nanxi had cheated to secure the scholarship.

Qin Nanxi fiddled with a small stone in front of her. She knew she wouldn’t lose in the end. But the way things had unfolded filled her with sorrow—her sister’s handwriting, her mother’s accusations, her classmates’ betrayal. Each incident weighed on her heart like a boulder, making it hard to breathe.

Wen Zhixu fumed, “That Song Shuya was putting on such a refined act before, but now she’s revealed herself to be nothing but a vicious dog.”

She had mistakenly thought Song Shuya liked Qin Nanxi before. While jealousy was one thing, it was still better than slandering Qin Nanxi. Now that Song Li was gone, Song Shuya had taken her place. The plot should be mostly over by now—didn’t the system say that if the first world was completed well, the second would be easier?

Sigh. Lack of evidence was one thing, but the worst part was how rumors could crush a kind-hearted girl.

“006, is there a way out of this?”

Host, you’ve already asked. The protagonist said she wants to handle this herself. I’m worried that if you interfere, it might not reduce the blackening value.

Sigh…

If only… she hadn’t organized this sponsorship. Even if they spread the news about Song Shuya’s family going bankrupt now, it wouldn’t help. There was still that desk mate and Qin Nanxi’s mother involved. It would only make people more convinced of their words, since Song Shuya couldn’t possibly pay them off.

But how did Qin Nanxi plan to deal with this? She didn’t have the omniscient perspective to know this was destined by the plot. Was she feeling miserable and anxious right now?

What a mess. This sponsorship was a terrible idea—she should’ve just stuck to tutoring for money.

Qin Nanxi suddenly spoke up, “Let’s go. Time for some entertainment.”

“What entertainment?” Tang Mo asked, surprised.

Qin Nanxi chuckled. “The surveillance footage. Who said the cameras were broken? The school’s cameras were, but not… the ones I installed.”

“What?” The two exclaimed in unison.

Wen Zhixu was stunned. Why would Qin Nanxi have installed cameras? Did she already know something like this would happen?

Qin Nanxi’s heart still ached. She had hoped these cameras would never be needed, but now, she was glad she’d installed them.

Tang Mo looked bewildered. “At this point, I’m starting to think you two planned this together. One reports you, claims the cameras are broken, and says you have no evidence. Then you turn around and say you installed your own cameras and have proof to expose their lies. This… really seems like a setup. How else could it be such a perfect coincidence?”

“Tang Mo, you should head back first,” Wen Zhixu suddenly said, grabbing Qin Nanxi and pulling her toward the pavilion. “Qin Nanxi, or should I say…”

Wen Zhixu’s expression changed. She realized she couldn’t utter the name “Chaoyao.” Seeing Qin Nanxi’s puzzled gaze, she knew she’d overthought things.

How could there possibly be another person from another world? The system had told her in the first world that she was the only one from another dimension—there wouldn’t be others. This had to be just a coincidence.

Qin Nanxi watched as Wen Zhixu’s face filled with panic before dimming. She asked, “What’s wrong, Qingyue…?”

Wen Zhixu forced a smile. “Nothing. I just wanted to ask why you installed cameras.”

“It’s because of you,” Qin Nanxi said smoothly, having prepared an excuse. “You kept harassing me before, then flipped it around and accused me of harassing you. So when you approached me again, I installed them. That way, I’d have evidence in the future.”

Wen Zhixu: “…”

“Nanxi!” Wen Zhixu shouted angrily, stomping her foot before pouting. “How could you think of me like that!”

Qin Nanxi asked, “Then why did you act that way before?”

She patted Wen Zhixu’s head. “Stop acting cute. You’re not a kid anymore. Let’s go teach those brats a lesson.”

Wen Zhixu’s mind was still in turmoil, so she didn’t carefully consider Qin Nanxi’s words, simply following her back to the classroom.

The campus was quiet—it was class time—but Class 1 was unusually rowdy. Teacher Zhang was in the office investigating the cheating allegations. Qin Nanxi’s deskmate, Wang Qing, firmly claimed she had witnessed Qin Nanxi cheating: using her phone to look up answers during the math exam and carving formulas into the wall during physics. She admitted she had wanted to peek too but was too afraid.

Qin’s mother was in the principal’s office, but the conversation was clearly going nowhere. She had already given up—with her own life possibly ending in a week, she was determined to make Qin Nanxi suffer. At worst, the scholarship would be revoked; at best, Qin would be expelled, left with a disciplinary record that would bar her from the college entrance exams.

Qin Nanxi told Wen Zhixu to go in first, but Wen refused. Tang Mo was also eagerly waiting outside, so Qin had no choice but to bring them all in.

When Teacher Zhang saw Qin Nanxi enter, she first assessed her emotional state. The teacher believed in her student but worried Qin might act rashly under pressure.

“Qin Nanxi,” Teacher Zhang said kindly, “don’t worry too much. There’s no solid evidence yet, and I’ll help you find the truth. Stay calm.”

Song Shuya disapproved of the teacher’s approach. Without changing her expression, she said, “Teacher, we’ve all provided evidence. Are you saying the marks on the wall are fake too?”

Teacher Zhang snapped, “Enough! Your ‘evidence’ is all hearsay. The writing on the wall could be anyone’s. Without concrete proof, why are you all so adamant?”

She was biased toward Qin Nanxi, having personally witnessed the girl’s struggles to study. Song Shuya, the class monitor she had chosen, was now publicly accusing Qin without solid proof.

Song Shuya frowned. “Then where’s Qin Nanxi’s evidence?”

Qin Nanxi chuckled. “Who said I don’t have any?”

“Song Shuya, you went through a lot of trouble—sneaking into the classroom at night, carving those formulas in the dark. Must’ve taken real effort. I don’t know what I did to offend you, but I won’t let you slander me.”

A flicker of panic crossed Song Shuya’s face before she retorted, “Proof? Why would I frame you? I’m just standing up for what’s right.”

Wen Zhixu cut in, “Because you want that 200,000 yuan.”

The scholarship, though meant for university, had a fixed total of 200,000 yuan—either taken as a lump sum or distributed monthly.

“Jiang Qingyue! Don’t you dare accuse me!” The moment Wen Zhixu exposed her motive, Song Shuya lost control of her emotions but still tried to suppress it. “What does Qin Nanxi’s cheating have to do with you? Wang Qing saw it, and her mother reported it. Isn’t that proof enough?”

Qin Nanxi felt a headache coming on. She wanted to end this farce as soon as possible. Having just retrieved her phone from the dormitory, she opened the surveillance footage from the exam days and said, “Aunt Jiang previously asked me to keep an eye on Jiang Qingyue and wanted to see her behavior in class, so I helped install a camera. I admit that was my mistake, but Aunt Jiang had discussed this with the former principal, who gave his approval—it just wasn’t disclosed to others.”

“Teacher Zhang, I’ve marked the key clips. This evidence should be sufficient now, right?”

Song Shuya’s recorder slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Flustered, she tried to pick it up but found the cylindrical device impossible to grasp. Seeing this, Qin Nanxi picked it up for her and asked, “Well? Is my evidence convincing enough now?”