Nan Qi reinserted the key and prepared to start the car when Bo Ranying called out to her. “Little Qi, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I’ve been thinking about it the whole way here.”
“What’s the matter?” Nan Qi’s heart tightened. She immediately sat up straight, fixing her deep gaze on Bo Ranying.
Caught in that stare, Bo Ranying inexplicably felt a heavy pressure.
She blinked rapidly and flashed a cute smile to ease the tension in the air.
Softening her voice, she tested the waters. “Little Qi, you don’t need to get up early anymore to drive me to work. I can just take a cab or ride the subway myself.”
Nan Qi disagreed. Her expression cooled slightly as she gently countered. “Cabs are impossible to find during morning rush hour, and the subway is always packed—it’s miserable. You’d have no time for breakfast at home and end up eating on some dusty street or arriving at the Dance Troupe on an empty stomach.”
Bo Ranying paused for a moment, picturing the scene Nan Qi described. Her brows furrowed briefly.
Then she relaxed. “I can handle it.”
Her tone remained resolute.
A shadow fell over Nan Qi’s heart, as if something vital was draining from her body.
Uncertain how to respond, she could only stare blankly at the woman before her—gentle, yet edged with resolve—waiting for the verbal blade to fall.
Bo Ranying studied Nan Qi’s face, catching every subtle shift in her expression. Her own heart settled a little.
Putting herself in Nan Qi’s shoes, she continued. “Little Qi, it only clicked for me today. The Law Firm and the Dance Troupe aren’t even on the same route—they’re in completely opposite directions. And I start work earlier than you do. Every time, you have to wake up ahead of schedule, drop me off first, then loop back to your firm. It takes more than two hours total. That’s too much.”
“You don’t need to worry so much about my feelings or waste your time on me. Everyone else squeezes onto buses or the subway for work, so why shouldn’t I? The time you save could go toward rest or prepping work files—things far more valuable than driving me.”
Bo Ranying finished and waited for Nan Qi’s response.
Instead, she came face-to-face with a sullen expression. The palpable low pressure made her flinch—she rarely saw Nan Qi looking so grim.
Nan Qi was always gentle with her, protective and indulgent, opening her heart without reservation. Moments of coldness were few and far between.
But now, the raw sadness in Nan Qi’s eyes—edging toward outright anger—stung Bo Ranying’s own, bringing tears to the surface.
The strange unease Tang Lian had stirred earlier faded away. Now Bo Ranying was certain: Nan Qi still loved her deeply, still cared. Handing over Nan Qi’s business card to Tang Lian hadn’t mattered.
Nan Qi felt utterly heartbroken, teetering on the edge of fury.
Bo Ranying’s signature “gentle knives” left her head throbbing. Her mind, already muddled from the cold and her medications, grew even hazier.
Once again, Bo Ranying wielded that icy blade with expert precision, striking straight at the weakest spot in Nan Qi’s heart—one cut after another, carving away flesh until her heart lay in tatters, riddled with wounds and crisscrossed scars.
Bo Ranying truly had no heart.
First, she’d deliberately brought up Qiao Xiuyu that morning. Now, that apparently wasn’t enough—she had to strip away Nan Qi’s right to drive her to work.
Nan Qi had never voiced it, but dropping Bo Ranying off at work every day filled her with joy.
She started looking forward to it from the night before, pondering what to wear, how to accessorize, what hairstyle would make her look like a perfect match walking beside Bo Ranying.
This kind of companionship was something Qiao Xiuyu, as her boyfriend, could never provide. In Nan Qi’s mind, it was a rare stroke of luck—a chance, on that daily commute, to imagine dropping off her girlfriend.
It was a quiet happiness, like a line from Neruda: You throb like seeds and rain falling ceaselessly inside you.
A small, cherished secret she’d never shared with anyone.
But now, Bo Ranying wanted to take it all away.
Nan Qi refused.
She already understood her place all too well. She could only ever appear as Bo Ranying’s friend, meeting under that pretense, never crossing the line—for the sake of Bo Ranying’s life and career.
She’d worked hard to accept her reality, desperately reining in her affection and impulses. She knew Bo Ranying’s engagement loomed on the horizon; even concern from a “friend” was on borrowed time.
But how could Bo Ranying slap an early end to it all, right before the final countdown ticked to zero?!
Nan Qi wouldn’t have it.
In that moment, her unwillingness surged stronger than her habitual impulse to agree.
She spoke deliberately, each word weighted and resounding.
“No.”
“Ranran, I don’t want to.”
Bo Ranying: “…”
Her heart settled at Nan Qi’s resistance.
“I don’t think it’s a hardship, and I never see it as wasted time. Anything spent on Ranran is worthwhile, so please don’t bring it up again. I won’t agree.”
“You can’t be that cruel to me.”
“Ranran, do you know? That drive to work is the happiest hour of my day—nothing, not even landing the biggest case, can compare.”
She’d nearly said it outright: You’re irreplaceable to me.
She never uttered the word “love,” yet every sentence screamed it—Nan Qi loved Bo Ranying.
Reassured by the response she’d hoped for, Bo Ranying relented. “If you want to keep driving me to work, then do it. Pretend I never mentioned it.”
Her goal had only been to test whether Nan Qi’s feelings for her burned as fiercely as before. Hearing Nan Qi describe the rush-hour ordeal made her even less willing to relinquish that care and attentiveness.
It was perfect, really—she enjoyed the convenience, and Little Qi found happiness in it.
Heh.
How could some sudden interloper like Tang Lian ever compare to the years of friendship between her and Nan Qi?
![Is Self-Redemption That Hard? [Quick Transmigration]](https://i0.wp.com/dobytranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/01/au.png?resize=151,215 "Is Self-Redemption That Hard? [Quick Transmigration]")