Chapter 30: The Submissive, Obsessive Top Student Part 2

“Why did you say that just now?” Shi Qingyi asked, as if Jiang Zhiyi had accused her of some heinous crime, when she’d only been doing good deeds lately.

Jiang Zhiyi’s gaze flickered, and she lowered her head. “Jiang Jun said you were just playing with me, that you sent her over to tell me… to tell me…”

That I was a disgusting lesbian, that I was corrupting kids.

“You believe her just because she said it?” Shi Qingyi wouldn’t let her hide; she firmly lifted her chin, forcing the timid girl to meet her eyes.

Shi Qingyi wasn’t just a little taller—seated on the sofa, Jiang Zhiyi only reached her chest. The girl looked down at her, backlit by the bright light that cloaked her in a layer of cool, ethereal glow.

“If you believe whoever says anything, why not believe me?” Shi Qingyi brushed aside Jiang Zhiyi’s shoulder-length hair. Jiang Zhiyi fidgeted uncomfortably, wanting to dodge, but held back since it was Shi Qingyi.

“So, do you believe me or her?” Shi Qingyi leaned in closer, their faces inches apart, breaths mingling. Jiang Zhiyi could even see the faint tear mole at the corner of her eye.

Too close—the first time this near. A blush crept up her earlobes. If Shi Qingyi weren’t holding her chin, she would’ve fled.

“You…”

Shi Qingyi stared for two seconds, then her slender fingers primly scratched under her chin. Her icy expression thawed into a slight smile, rewarding her. “Good girl.”

She usually kept people at arm’s length with her stern face, but her rare smile was breathtaking. In that instant, Jiang Zhiyi understood King You of Zhou’s folly with the beacon fires for a beauty’s smile—her heart went numb, and she unconsciously rubbed her chin against those long fingers.

“Like a cat,” Shi Qingyi chuckled, withdrawing her hand to resume blow-drying. Jiang Zhiyi leaned closer reluctantly, then softly asked, “How did you know I was there?”

Shi Qingyi blew apart her brown locks, casually lying, “I went down for snacks and spotted you.”

She paused, stunned—who detours to the artificial lake for snacks? It was just landscaping there. Annoyed, she ruffled the obedient head into a mess, gruffly adding, “It’s a secret.”

Jiang Zhiyi let her tousle it, only daring a soft “oh.” Her fingertips curled anxiously into her palm, harboring excessive suspicions.

After Shi Qingyi finished drying her hair, she realized Jiang Zhiyi had fallen asleep against her, dark circles under her eyes from exhaustion, breaths shallow and tickling her neck.

She nudged Jiang Zhiyi’s shoulder—no response. Instead, she snuggled closer, murmuring from her nose, “Cold…”

Her hand hesitated, then touched the exposed arm—ice-cold, no warmth.

Shi Qingyi tossed the hairdryer aside, intending to fetch a blanket from her room. As she rose, she felt someone clutching the hem of her nightgown tightly.

She recalled a saying: people who can’t let go even in sleep often lacked security.

Sleeping here, no fear of catching a cold now. She grabbed her phone, raised the AC temperature, and left her arm be.

Jiang Zhiyi didn’t sleep long—just over an hour—before nightmares hit. Her grip on the arm tightened restlessly, forehead slick with cold sweat, trapped in some horrific dream.

Shi Qingyi tossed her phone and patted her shoulder. “Wake up?”

No awakening; the pat seemed to jolt something worse. She thrashed harder, teeth clenched, biting the inside of her cheek until it hollowed.

She’d bite through at this rate. Shi Qingyi pried open her teeth to prevent injury.

A drowning suffocation hit instantly. The dreamer finally struggled awake, eyes snapping open—deep abysses devoid of life.

“What did you dream?” One hand grabbed a wet wipe to dab her sweaty forehead.

Jiang Zhiyi instinctively leaned closer, dependent. She wobbled; Shi Qingyi yanked her arm away.

Jiang Zhiyi: “…”

Wronged.

Shi Qingyi rubbed her sore elbow, exasperated. “Don’t lean anymore—my arm’s playing volleyball for the class next week.”

Hadn’t she let her lean this long? Unable to hug her, Jiang Zhiyi clutched a pillow, eyeing her hand. “Did I bite you?”

Shi Qingyi shook her head—like a kitten’s bite could hurt. She fetched two yogurts from the fridge, opened them, handed one over, and nestled back with her phone, one in her mouth.

“What do you want to eat?”

Jiang Zhiyi took the yogurt, stunned, staring blankly.

Her eyes were clear, pupils pure black, crow-feather lashes long and curled—like a soft, innocent animal evoking pity. No one would guess this gentle girl would become countless people’s lifelong nightmare.

She was ruthless, no mercy. Those with leverage went to prison, stripped of freedom; others lingered outside, tormented. Even her own sister, raised together, hadn’t escaped.

Shi Qingyi lowered her gaze, squeezing the yogurt bottle until it dented deeply.

Jiang Zhiyi, bullied often, read moods well and sensed her displeasure.

Had Shi Qingyi discovered something? Tense, her fingers tightened unconsciously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Fulongji barbecue? Their grilled fish is killer, but bony. Or little hotpot? Delivery’s slow.”

Jiang Zhiyi set down her yogurt, tugging her skirt hem. “How about I cook for you?”

Shi Qingyi, who’d worried about her hunger, leaned on the doorframe sipping yogurt, watching “Chef Jiang.” Her ham sausage slicing was deft; she figured out the stove quickly despite initial confusion.

Shi Qingyi sipped, recalling the System: Jiang Zhiyi had waitressed in junior high, using earnings for printing and tutoring fees. Her gaze darkened.

Her kitchen was pristine, unused for ages—no oil splatter.

Jiang Zhiyi tensed under her stare, back straight, shoulder blades forming a pretty contour. “Will Uncle and Aunt come back to eat?”

Shi Qingyi’s eyes chilled; she chucked the yogurt in the trash. “They don’t live with me. Who knows where they’re off carousing.”

Oops.

Sensitive Jiang Zhiyi knew she’d stepped on a mine and pivoted. “Do you eat spicy?”

“Eat… no.”

Her kitchen had instant noodles and stray ham sausages. In a pristine white bowl, steaming, it looked decent—the lifeless apartment gained a touch of warmth.

As she carried the bowl, Shi Qingyi blocked her. “I’ll take it.”

After Shi Qingyi left, washing up, Jiang Zhiyi noticed her hand wounds—scars freshly scabbed, some reopened to raw flesh.

She clenched her fist, stinging.

No one cared about her injuries, sending her for scalding soup or glass shards. Leaning back, a warm wind seemed to blow into her cold heart, making her chest heat inexplicably.

Shi Qingyi’s messy head poked from the door, bowl in hand. “Not coming out?”

Her bowl was fiery red—half a bottle of chili sauce. She loved spice, but earlier…

Jiang Zhiyi froze, realizing: she herself hated spice.

Her nose stung sharply.

After noodles, it was six PM. Shi Qingyi dressed, hunting for an umbrella.

“I can go back myself.”

“Bus from here takes over two hours, and it’s pouring. Driver’s downstairs—home in an hour.”

One hand on the wall, she bent for shoes amid clutter. Nearly slipped; a hand steadied her calf. Shi Qingyi blinked, awkward, arching her foot. “Let go; I got it.”

“Don’t move.” Jiang Zhiyi’s voice was gentle, asking nothing about how she knew her home or timings.

Shi Qingyi looked down; the girl’s expression earnest. Her heart softened inexplicably, like a bee’s gentle sting.

Shi Qingyi had drivers aplenty—she just loved biking. In two adult months, she’d added sports cars, but school parking was bikes-only at the old back gate.

Outside, rush-hour traffic clogged even this small city. Shi Qingyi wore earbuds, scrolling her phone intently, missing the girl dozing off beside her.

Jiang Zhiyi leaned on her shoulder lightly, praying time stretched forever—like this for life would be fine.

But wishes unmet. Even in rain, the driver sped steadily—under an hour to the urban village gate. Shi Qingyi removed her earbuds, nudging her. “Up. Sleep at home.”

Jiang Zhiyi waited, then feigned waking, rubbing eyes, stopping her umbrella grab. “Home already. I’ll go—rain’s heavy; don’t get wet.”

She exited without waiting, splashing into sewage—wet, sticky cold.

Shi Qingyi’s gaze darkened, glad she hadn’t followed. Poor drainage turned the village into a swamp post-rain: garbage, wastewater, fleeing critters.

A girl as pristine as Shi Qingyi, socks snowy white—how could she step into this muck?

Umbrella up, she walked. At the alley mouth, she turned, watching the car fade until gone. Turning back, two figures appeared.

A slender boy carried Jiang Zhiqing on his back through the downpour. She clung to Gu Chuanjing’s neck under the umbrella, her shoes spotless—he’d kept her dry.

Gu Chuanjing glanced at Jiang Zhiyi at the entrance, surprised, then saw her lone umbrella—his expression cooled.

—Not here for Zhiqing.

Joy lit Jiang Zhiqing’s pale face. She wriggled down, grabbing for the umbrella. “Sis, can I borrow it for Chuanjing to get back?”

She looked pitifully at Jiang Zhiyi—beautiful, eyes pure and dustless, softening anyone.

But Jiang Zhiyi lacked such mercy.

She gripped tightly, unmoved.

Disgust flickered in Gu Chuanjing’s refined brows. Coldly, “See you tomorrow,” he strode into the torrent. Jiang Zhiqing chased anxiously. Jiang Zhiyi ignored their tangle, heading into the alley.

“Sis,” but in less than two minutes, Jiang Zhiqing caught up. She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “I just saw that Shi Qingyi was the one who brought you back.”

Jiang Zhiyi halted her steps, waiting for her to continue.

“Do you know how much this outfit on you costs?” Jiang Zhiqing lifted her head, her pearly teeth biting tightly into her lip. “This dress costs as much as our family’s living expenses for an entire year. You and her aren’t from the same world.”

Jiang Zhiyi paused for a moment. Outside the umbrella, the heavy rain poured down relentlessly. Just as Jiang Zhiqing thought she would argue back, Jiang Zhiyi unexpectedly nodded instead. Her fingers stroked the expensive fabric of her skirt. The ground beneath her feet was a muddy mess, and she had to be very careful not to let the skirt get splashed with mud and water.

They truly weren’t from the same world.

—She couldn’t let Shi Qingyi step into this kind of filth. She had to climb up step by step. At the very least, she couldn’t stand beside her covered in mud like this.

—

The sports festival started on Thursday and ended on Friday, with everyone heading home afterward. The volleyball match began Thursday afternoon. Perhaps because opposites attract, most of the girls came to watch the boys’ basketball games, while far more boys showed up to watch the girls play volleyball.

Jiang Zhiyi, a lone girl squeezed among a crowd of boys, occupied a small stool all to herself. In her arms, she clutched Shi Qingyi’s school uniform jacket, which carried a faint lemon scent that inexplicably put her heart at ease.

Shi Qingyi had learned volleyball as a child and played decently. With her slim waist, long legs, and agile figure, plus that head of striking golden hair, she drew eyes from everywhere. The first half was about to end, and the score was already a crushing lead. The girl seemed to glow all over.

When she jumped for a receive, a section of her exceptionally flexible waist was exposed—fair and slender, dazzlingly white. Some boys in the surroundings whistled ambiguously. A dark cloud suddenly surged in Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes.

—She wanted to go over and drape the jacket over her, wrapping her up tight so not a bit of skin showed.

The first half was just about over when one of the boys nearby was shoved a little closer. He grinned and asked her, “Classmate, is that your friend? I saw you two come together earlier. Could you give me her contact info?”

Shi Qingyi was quite famous, but not to the point where everyone knew her on sight.

The sunlight shifted in an instant from pleasant to blinding. Jiang Zhiyi gripped the school jacket tighter in her arms. The boy in front of her was fairly handsome—a type who stood out even in a crowd, no wonder he had the guts to come ask.

She shook her head without speaking, her expression gloomy. She had no intention of engaging him at all. She didn’t even have a phone, let alone any contact info to give.

“No contact info? Then, could you at least tell me if she has a boyfriend?” The boy seemed oblivious to her mood and kept pressing.

Jiang Zhiyi looked up, her tone righteous and resounding. “She needs to focus on her studies. She doesn’t date.”

Her momentum was intimidating enough to leave the boy across from her stunned and speechless. Suddenly, a light laugh came from behind her.

Jiang Zhiyi’s back stiffened instantly.