Chapter 30 Part 1

Yan Mian had replaced the word “like” with “has a favorable impression of.”

This subtle change kept Zhu Lexing awake all night, lost in thought.

Qiao Qiao had left her camera at the Zhu Family home, claiming that it was useless to her anyway, so Zhu Lexing might as well keep it as a cherished memory.

The more Zhu Lexing heard, the more off it sounded—like she was on her deathbed, leaving behind a few photos for others to remember her by.

But on second thought, her life really did feel that way. There wasn’t much difference at its core.

A faint melancholy had just begun to settle over Zhu Lexing’s heart when it vanished the next instant, thanks to a crumpled paper ball that suddenly smacked her on the arm. She glanced at the ball, then turned to see two girls from the row behind her chatting this way. Things had gotten heated, and now they were in a full-on paper-throwing showdown.

Over the past few months, Zhu Lexing had gotten to know everyone’s faces in the class. These two had solid grades, right in the middle of the pack—model students through and through.

But students were students the world over. The ones who didn’t goof off were the exception, not the rule. She shot a glance at the new fluorescent light tube overhead; that was the result of a few kids’ brilliant idea to play tennis in the classroom not long ago, shattering the old one.

She tossed the paper ball back and turned her attention to the problem in front of her.

Starting the next day, Zhu Lexing’s obsession with visiting the film set faded. She only dropped by when she had time. As the plot progressed, Yan Mian’s scenes were mostly indoors, so Zhu Lexing’s photo plans fell through. She was about to leave when a crew member called out to her.

The staffer handed her an unopened bottle of drink with a smile. “Yan Mian mentioned you. Make sure to let her know if you stop by.”

Zhu Lexing pulled her mask up a bit higher, her voice muffled. “Thanks.”

The Temporary Support Station’s fanbase had stabilized, officially surpassing five thousand followers just minutes ago.

Zhu Lexing had just shared the good news in the group chat when she saw the account get flooded with ten thousand bought fans.

Xu He declared righteously: We need to make it look like we’re super popular! That’s how we draw real attention!

Zhu Lexing agreed it made sense, so she handed the account over to Xu He to manage. Xu He’s daily tasks were handling DMs and comments—aka operations. Song Yingying wrote the posts, mainly copy-pasting famous quotes to shower Yan Mian with nonstop praise—aka copywriting.

Zhu Lexing felt like they were divvying up a pie.

The pie might be small, but everyone got a slice—no escaping it!

As their kindergarten-level play-acting gradually got organized, time marched on through the endless daily grind.

When Zhu Xing announced the date for final exams, Zhu Lexing suddenly realized with a jolt that summer was almost here.

She instinctively glanced back at Yan Mian’s empty seat. According to what she’d heard from the crew, the filming would wrap in just a few more days.

Zhu Lexing felt a bit dazed.

No way it lined up this perfectly, right? Wrapping up just as summer break started.

The thought of living under the same roof as Yan Mian for a full two months of vacation made Zhu Lexing feel like her days were dragging on with zero hope in sight.

Her mood sank inexplicably, while everyone else looked relieved beyond words. Finals meant the semester was finally over—they could head into summer vacation.

In the group chat, Xu He was practically in tears of joy: Told you finals were in two days! You bet against me! Pay up! @Even Dogs Won’t Eat Chocolate

Qiao Qiao promptly sent a one-cent red envelope.

Even Shi Ruofeng posted a 【Cute】 emoji in Moments.

To give context, up until then, Shi Ruofeng had been inexplicably dropping 【Smile】 emojis every single day.

Zhu Lexing figured those had two meanings: 1. Don’t mess with me! 2. Mess with me and you’re dead within three days.

They all seemed so blissfully happy, leaving her feeling like an outsider. She could only torment the System instead: 【Come on, let me test you—how do you solve this problem…?】

Halfway through grilling the System, Zhu Lexing suddenly remembered Qiao Qiao’s birthday was coming up soon.

Before she knew it, Qiao Qiao would be the first in their little group to hit adulthood. Zhu Lexing fired off a message right away.

-From now on, we’re not the same generation. Remember to give me New Year’s money when the holidays roll around.

Qiao Qiao wanted for nothing, so Zhu Lexing decided on a custom birthday blessing.

Who could say no to a video of foreigners in grass skirts, waving photos around while hula-dancing in what looked like a massive exorcism ritual?

Just picturing the scene had Zhu Lexing cracking up inside.

Humming to herself as she got out of the car, she noticed another vehicle parked at the entrance. Qin Yun sat inside—a rare sight. Zhu Lexing even caught her staring down at her phone, as if she’d just gotten a message.

Zhu Lexing paused.

If Qin Yun was there, Yan Mian had to be back too. But Yan Mian wasn’t in the living room.

She asked the servants, who said Yan Mian had just returned and gone straight to rest.

Only then did Zhu Lexing realize how packed Yan Mian’s schedule had been lately. She spent her afternoons filming, wrapping up early or late, but still made it to school every morning to diligently finish her homework—never half-assing it.

Zhu Lexing thought that if the System had bound to Yan Mian instead, this story would’ve turned into an inspirational power fantasy ages ago. Unfortunately—

It had latched onto a host who wasn’t exactly a powerhouse.

Zhu Lexing stood there, letting out a sigh. She was about to head upstairs when Yan Mian’s door opened. Yan Mian was toweling off her damp hair and looked up to see Zhu Lexing. They both froze.

After a long moment, Yan Mian spoke first. “Finals are in a few days, right? Teacher Zhu let me know.”

Under the lights, Yan Mian’s skin looked even fairer. Even from a distance, it was almost blinding. Zhu Lexing rubbed her own cheek on reflex. “Ah, yeah.”

“…When do you wrap filming?” Zhu Lexing changed the subject.

Yan Mian thought of the script pages already flipped to the end. “Probably in the next couple days.”

After getting used to the crew’s over-the-top efficiency, Yan Mian’s shooting schedule had sped up considerably.

She had thought Zhu Lexing was just mentioning it offhand, but then she saw the other girl hesitate for several seconds before asking, “What about after wrapping up filming?”

Yan Mian paused, then replied, “The scriptwriter from the crew introduced a production company to me. They said there might be some projects that suit me, so I’m planning to check it out in a few days.”

Zhu Lexing recalled how, during her visit to the set, Yan Mian had always sat quietly off to the side, watching the bustle around her.

She asked again, “What’s the company called?”

This time, Yan Mian didn’t answer right away. She just stood there. Zhu Lexing belatedly realized she might have pried too much and started to backpedal. “Uh, I—”

“No.” Yan Mian spoke up suddenly, looking a little embarrassed as she pulled out her phone. “I kind of forgot.”

Zhu Lexing: “…”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse, laced with just a hint of something off.

Yan Mian opened her social app, about to show Zhu Lexing, but then realized it would mean leaning in too close. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “Are we friends on here yet?”

The question reminded Zhu Lexing of that line about her being “stupid.” Determined to shatter the stereotype, she said bluntly, “Are we? I don’t remember adding you.”

Yan Mian replied, “Then we’re not.”

Silence stretched between them until Zhu Lexing said, “In that case, let’s add each other. We might need to get in touch later anyway.”

Even as she said it, Zhu Lexing felt how strange it sounded. Adding a friend shouldn’t feel like a blind date.

But this was the female protagonist’s friend! It was another milestone on her path to saving Yan Mian.

Yan Mian’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. “…Sure.”

They added each other. Zhu Lexing’s fingers itched to scroll through her new friend’s Moments, but she held back in front of Yan Mian and said primly, “I’ll head upstairs then. You—”

Yan Mian gave her a puzzled look.

Zhu Lexing swallowed her “get some rest.” “That’s all. Yeah.”

She hurried upstairs alone. Yan Mian stood there, eyes dropping to her phone.

【Zhu Lexing】’s Moments were set to visible for three days only, but even that glimpse was enough to give pause.

The top post, from just a few hours ago:

【Did five math problems in ten minutes. I’m a genius of the math world—who else but me?】

【Xu He】: Yingying did ten in ten minutes.

【Song Yingying】: Yan Mian did twenty in ten minutes.

【Qiao Qiao】: Not as good as my quantum fluctuation solving method—one whole book in ten minutes.

The next one: 【Serious discussion: What’s the point of math existing?】

【Teacher Zhu】 had replied with a screenshot of a Star Net search page.

《What’s the point of math?》

【Zhu Lexing】: …

【I’m reading the novel Domineering CEO Loves Ruthlessly on Koukou Literature City—come join me!】

【Xu He】: This genre’s been blowing up lately!

【Shi Ruofeng】: Feels like it doesn’t hold a candle to Rebirth: I Am Snow White.

…Was this really the kind of thing Zhu Lexing posted?

Yan Mian glanced up toward the stairs, then looked away. It wasn’t her concern right now.

She just needed to focus on her own path.

A couple of days later, No. 1 High School announced the exam rooms and released everyone for one last bit of rest.

The day before the break, Xu He couldn’t wait any longer and herded the whole group out for hot pot.

Zhu Lexing used to wonder who in their right mind ate hot pot in the scorching summer—but once she became one of them, the answer was obvious.

After transmigrating into the book, she was starting to get it!

Hot pot for lunch, all-you-can-eat buffet for dinner—Xu He had everything mapped out.

She’d even floated ideas more befitting their “status,” like yacht parties or fancy business galas. But those spots were only good for a few of them. What about Song Yingying and Li Nian?

As Zhu Lexing went to grab some plates, she ran into Shi Ruofeng and Li Nian.

She checked the time—half an hour past when they were supposed to meet. Casually, she asked, “What kept you so late?”

Li Nian didn’t think the question was for her and glanced at Shi Ruofeng.

“Something came up in class,” Shi Ruofeng explained.

Zhu Lexing nodded, unconcerned, and pointed them toward their seats. Just then, Shi Ruofeng’s phone rang.

She glanced at the screen, her expression shifting as realization dawned. Answering, she said, “Can’t this wait a couple of days?”

Whoever was on the other end said something that made her sigh. “I understand. I’ll have everything packed by tomorrow at the latest.”

“Shi Ling knows my address now,” Shi Ruofeng said, her tone light but her face betraying raw anxiety she couldn’t quite hide.

Putting it together with what she’d just said, it was clear Shi Ling had paid off her landlord to kick her out.