Chapter 26
Almost instantly, Yan Mian stood up. She turned to Song Yun, blocking Zhu Lexing’s view of her expression, but Zhu Lexing could still hear the girl’s slightly subdued voice: “No.”
The phrase “the lady doth protest too much” flashed unbidden through Zhu Lexing’s mind.
The next second, she snapped back to reality. What was that supposed to mean? She and Yan Mian clearly hadn’t done anything wrong! It was Song Yun who had jumped to conclusions first.
Song Yun drew closer, but Zhu Lexing didn’t bother pulling her pant leg back down. “What’s wrong? Doctor Song.”
“Injured? How bad is it?” After asking, Song Yun got a clear look at the wound. She paused for a moment before saying, “Ms. Liu asked me to check in on you two.”
The fact that Liu Su knew about Song Yun’s existence didn’t surprise Zhu Lexing at all.
Liu Su had always doted on “Zhu Lexing” excessively. It was only natural that, upon her return, she’d want to know who Zhu Lexing had been associating with.
But Zhu Lexing had no desire to deal with Song Yun.
For one thing, she didn’t know the woman.
For another, psychologists occupied a tricky position. Who knew if a single slip of the tongue might expose her true identity?
“If there’s nothing else, you can head back,” Zhu Lexing said bluntly. She had no intention of ending up dissected on a table. “Yan Mian and I… we’re doing just fine.”
Song Yun had clearly heard her, yet she only spoke after taking a seat. “Is that so?”
Right on cue, a servant poured tea with impeccable timing.
Zhu Lexing frowned. “Doctor Song, you’re just here for a quick visit—the tea isn’t—”
“Lexing, do you remember the test form I sent you last time?” Song Yun cut in suddenly, choking off Zhu Lexing’s unfinished protest of “necessary.” Zhu Lexing glanced at her; the woman had already accepted the tea with a polite thank you.
Zhu Lexing regarded Song Yun calmly.
She had known this was the only reason the woman had come.
Song Yun didn’t seem surprised by the lack of response. But today, she clearly had no intention of letting it slide. “Haven’t done it yet, or lost it? No problem—we can fill one out right here.”
With that, she calmly pulled a form from her bag.
Yan Mian rose to her feet. “Then I’ll head back to my room—”
“Little Mian?” Song Yun called out.
“I gave you a copy last time too. Did you fill it out?”
Yan Mian hadn’t expected her to stop her. She hesitated for a moment before nodding.
“Then fetch it,” Song Yun said, “and fill out a fresh one while you’re at it.”
Zhu Lexing leaned back against the sofa, flipping through the test form in her hands.
Even at this point, she still couldn’t fathom the purpose of Song Yun’s visit. But the woman was here now, so Zhu Lexing racked her brain for a way to handle the form in front of her—for instance, how to get through it unscathed.
She had taken simple online quizzes before—mostly yes-or-no questions that spat out vague results, the kind that felt vaguely applicable, like horoscopes.
But Song Yun’s form was different. It was packed with pointed questions, such as 【Do you feel anxious?】、【Do you feel uneasy?】、【Do you suffer from sleep disorders?】.
Answering 【Very much so】 to all of them would paint her as a textbook case of mental illness.
Zhu Lexing suddenly realized this could work in her favor.
The original host had always been portrayed as neurotic, after all. Any result was plausible.
Song Yun took a sip of tea at that moment and smiled. “Ms. Liu is very interested in the results of this psychological test. If it indicates excessive anxiety in you or Miss Yan Mian, she’ll consider arranging professional treatment for you.”
Zhu Lexing: “…”
They were elite high schoolers from wealthy families—couldn’t they just be happy and leave it at that? What was with the mandatory psych eval?
“Answer truthfully now, Lexing,” Song Yun said gently.
Zhu Lexing found it exhausting to play the part of a lunatic.
Act too crazy, and she’d get shipped off for meds. Act not crazy enough, and she’d get shipped off for meds because she didn’t match the old Zhu Lexing.
Couldn’t these people just accept that Zhu Lexing had magically turned normal overnight?
Unsure of Song Yun’s exact criteria, Zhu Lexing picked up the pen and began filling it out with care, steering toward positive responses overall. But for questions on anxiety and paranoia, she leaned negative, aiming to come across as someone mildly anxious with sleep issues.
Better to pop a sleeping pill than get an MRI to check for brain damage.
After a dozen questions, Yan Mian returned from her room with a new form.
Song Yun leafed through it without a word.
Once finished, Zhu Lexing had no interest in hearing Song Yun’s diagnosis. She claimed her eyes were blurring and headed straight upstairs.
Around Song Yun, she always felt a twinge of guilt, as if a few extra words would give her away.
As the footsteps receded, Song Yun set aside the form and turned to Yan Mian. “Is this how you see Zhu Lexing? Mentally stable, with high tolerance.”
“High tolerance?” Yan Mian echoed the words.
She hadn’t been far from Zhu Lexing earlier and had seen her answer 【No】 to several questions. Was that mental stability?
“She clearly didn’t want me sitting down or taking the test,” Song Yun explained. “I even brought up Ms. Liu to nudge her a little, but she accepted it all without pushback.”
Zhu Lexing had been like this too often lately—often enough that Yan Mian had grown accustomed to it.
Only when Song Yun pointed it out did Yan Mian realize just how significant the change was.
“What were you two doing earlier?” Song Yun asked. “If I didn’t miss my guess, you were applying medicine to her leg. Did she force you?”
Yan Mian wasn’t sure how to respond.
She looked at Song Yun and felt an inexplicable urge to dodge the question. Just a month ago, they had been on the same side. Song Yun had cared for her, warned her to watch out for Zhu Lexing, and told her to reach out anytime she needed help.
But a month later, right in front of Song Yun, Yan Mian could no longer act like she used to—as a “victim,” showing through her words and actions how badly Zhu Lexing had treated her.
Because the recent Zhu Lexing…
Was perfectly normal.
Yan Mian didn’t know how to respond and could only say, “Does this have anything to do with your concern for Zhu Lexing…?”
Song Yun looked at her gently. “Strictly speaking, Ms. Liu hopes I’ll look after both of you.”
“You’re just as important, Yan Mian.”
“…”
“I’m sorry.”
Silence fell over the room. Song Yun shook her head. “It’s fine. I don’t blame you. But your current relationship is quite interesting.”
“Yan Mian,” Song Yun said. “Have you heard of a condition that exists in this world?”
Yan Mian looked at her.
“Someone gets kidnapped by bandits. At first, she hates them, despises them, wishes they’d drop dead so she can return to her familiar life. But as they spend more time together, she falls in love with her captor, mistaking the harm for love and dependence. She immerses herself in this false peace and kindness, convinced it’s the best she can get. Until she’s completely addicted, unable to pull herself out.”
“Stockholm Syndrome,” Yan Mian murmured.
Song Yun asked calmly, “Yan Mian.”
“…Have you forgiven her?”
In the room.
Listening in through the System up to this point, Zhu Lexing waited anxiously for Yan Mian’s reply—until her phone suddenly rang.
In an instant, Zhu Lexing’s thoughts snapped back to reality. She stubbornly tried to calm down and keep listening, but Song Yun said something vague: “I see. That’s all for today, then. I’ll head out. Get some good rest.”
Yan Mian said goodbye to her, the scene all warm and harmonious—while Zhu Lexing nearly lost her mind.
Why did someone always have to interrupt at the critical moment, derailing the plot?
Even in a clichéd rich-girl Mary Sue story, it didn’t have to be this melodramatic!
The System didn’t offer replays, so Zhu Lexing could only snatch up her phone viciously. The caller ID read Liu Su.
Zhu Lexing: “…”
As soon as she picked up, Liu Su said, “Lexing, has Doctor Song arrived?”
Zhu Lexing: “She has.”
Zhu Lexing figured she’d ask if Song Yun was professional or something, but Liu Su’s words stopped her cold.
“Little Mian has differentiated into an Omega now. If that last incident leaves her with a psychological trauma toward Alphas, making her fear them and unable to live normally in the future… I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life. I hope you don’t mind.”
After this earnest explanation, Zhu Lexing froze in place. Suddenly, she felt like she still had a lot to improve on.
With what happened last time, even though she felt terrible about wronging Yan Mian, she hadn’t known what to do. Because Yan Mian feared psychologists, Zhu Lexing had subconsciously avoided letting her meet these characters.
Zhu Lexing was silent for a few seconds before saying, “I won’t mind.”
Liu Su sighed in relief. “That’s good.”
“Mom has work tonight and won’t be back until late. You and Little Mian don’t need to wait up for me. Especially make sure Little Mian rests early—her health isn’t great.”
Zhu Lexing’s emotions were a tangled mess. “…Okay.”
But Liu Su noticed something off. “Why are you so quiet today?”
“Doctor Song was very thorough and responsible. She asked a lot of questions,” Zhu Lexing said. “I’m a bit tired.”
Liu Su hurried to say, “Then get some good rest. Mom loves you.”
The call ended.
Zhu Lexing knocked her head against the wall, then slumped onto the desk, feeling like a bit of a failure.
But the next second, she decided she’d already done plenty well.
Why compare herself to Liu Su? The other woman was an elder, a pillar of support. The one who should measure up to Liu Su was clearly Jiang Yue.
Thinking of Jiang Yue brought back Yan Mian’s lonely expression, which made Zhu Lexing uncomfortable. For a moment, even her curiosity about Yan Mian’s answer faded.
What difference did forgiving or not forgiving make?
The harm was already done.
All Zhu Lexing could do was put in her own efforts to make up for the rest of Yan Mian’s life.
Her phone buzzed. Zhu Lexing pulled herself from her thoughts and glanced down. The message was from Qiao Qiao.
The other girl seemed to think Zhu Lexing’s sudden disappearance earlier meant she was mad, so during the form-filling, she’d sent over a dozen messages.
-You have to accept that everyone has different tastes. Some people just like writing that way—you can’t go beat them up over it.
-No way? You’ve been ignoring me this long?
-Fine, ignore me then! Going to eat!
Ten minutes later, another one popped up.
-Xu He says five-stack! Four trash one carry! Not mad at you anymore, log in!
Zhu Lexing: “…”
She held back, and held back some more, but finally couldn’t resist: Playing 1v9 games all day gonna make your life any fuller?
-Can make my teammates’ lives fuller after I flame them.
Zhu Lexing had to admit she had a point.
If she couldn’t vent her own anger, she might as well torment others.
In the match, she casually picked a low-tier hero, roamed around messing things up, and quickly turned their already losing game into a total stomp.
Xu He raged, “Zhu Lexing! How are you this trash?! Even throwing on mobile, chickens play better than you!”
Qiao Qiao: “Yeah, exactly.”
Zhu Lexing didn’t hesitate: “Qiao Qiao’s the one who wants to throw on you guys but was too embarrassed, so she roped me in. Go yell at her!”
Qiao Qiao: “You—”
Xu He: “Qiao Qiao, you think you’re playing that great?!”
Xu He went full 1v9 flame war, and the whole team’s voice chat erupted into chaos again.
After dumping the blame, Zhu Lexing felt refreshed and stopped worrying about all that nonsense.
The form was filled out, Song Yun was gone. Whatever she told Liu Su was Song Yun’s business—Zhu Lexing couldn’t change her mind anyway.
Even if something really got noticed, so what?
Live day by day.
Better to kick off Plan X and go full tilt!
But reality turned out to be far less disastrous than Zhu Lexing had imagined.
Their schedules simply didn’t align. Whenever the two of them headed to school, Liu Su was still resting, and by the time they rested, Liu Su was still working. For several days straight, Zhu Lexing didn’t exchange a single normal word with Liu Su, neatly sidestepping any awkwardness.
This allowed her to breathe a long sigh of relief.
At school, just as Xu He had predicted, it wasn’t long before No. 1 High School started hyping up the Sports Meet. The main events were all running races, open to free registration.
Zhu Lexing had zero interest in joining the hype. Propping her chin on her hand, she worked on her problems, but Song Yingying beside her suddenly piped up. “I want to sign up for the 800m.”
Zhu Lexing: ?
She glanced at Song Yingying. The girl wasn’t particularly tall—eyeballing it, about five foot five—and her stamina left much to be desired. Her odds of medaling were pretty low.
Still, it was just running. Why turn it into a cutthroat competition? A casual jog would do; participation was the real point.
“I support you,” Zhu Lexing said.
She figured Song Yingying was a one-off case.
But that evening during their five-player queue, Xu He boasted proudly, “I’m gearing up for the 3000m relay—as the Fifth Baton.”
Qiao Qiao shot back with a smirk. “Just don’t lag behind by 500 meters mid-race.”
Xu He retorted, “Qiao Qiao, if you ever end up blasted on the hot search for getting cursed out, it’ll be this mouth of yours that did it.”
Around this time, Qiao Qiao was busy practicing her dance routine, while Xu He and Song Yingying teamed up for jogs. Even Yan Mian occasionally chatted with some senior sisters from upper years, seemingly lining up contributions for something.
Everyone was legitimately swamped. Zhu Lexing alone had nothing to do, which even sparked the idea of signing up for an event herself.
In the end, she just went through the motions and picked the long jump, tagging along with the others on the sports field.
The day before the official Sports Meet, Zhu Xing announced in class that each class would march in a square formation, and they needed to pick someone to carry the flag.
His gaze swept the room, skipping over Zhu Lexing and Yan Mian—who were both heads down, buried in their books.
