Zhu Lexing ultimately gave up on suffocating herself to death—it was far too difficult a way to go. She fell asleep in the midst of bickering with the System.
Summer vacation turned out not to be as unbearable as Zhu Lexing had feared.
Her relationship with Yan Mian had thawed considerably by now. Even sharing a room felt natural, without the excruciating awkwardness of before. No longer did a single glance send either of them fleeing in panic.
Everything was progressing for the better. Even Liu Su, who had planned to rest at home for a spell, landed a collaborative ad gig with a local museum. Zhu Lexing had recently stumbled across it on Star Net—the place had just unearthed some new artifacts and was riding a wave of hype.
Liu Su already had a solid portfolio to her name, but why turn down a shot at going viral?
Yan Mian agreed wholeheartedly.
Unlike Zhu Lexing, who mulled it over privately while putting on a reluctant front, Yan Mian voiced her support plainly. She urged Liu Su to take the job and promised there was no need to worry about them.
“Lexing…” At this, Yan Mian glanced at Zhu Lexing.
Zhu Lexing straightened up at once, only to hear the girl say softly, “She’s been very good to me.”
Zhu Lexing: “…………”
So this was how you killed without batting an eye.
She lowered her gaze in silence.
【Host! Don’t blush in front of the female protagonist! It’ll break character!】 the System warned quietly.
Zhu Lexing thought to herself, As if I haven’t broken character plenty of times already—what’s one more?
But before Yan Mian’s eyes could settle back on her, she shot to her feet. “Heading upstairs.”
Liu Su mulled it over for days before accepting the shoot. Her sole condition: she wanted to bring Zhu Lexing and Yan Mian along to the set. The museum sat right next to a bustling commercial district. If they weren’t keen on antiques, they could always link up with friends instead.
Her motives were plain as day—she just wanted more time to observe Zhu Lexing and Yan Mian up close.
No one pointed it out.
The actual filming kicked off in early August.
The sun blazed overhead, and crowds swarmed the museum entrance—mostly fans and rubberneckers drawn by word of Liu Su’s appearance.
The site was packed solid.
Liu Su had barely stepped out when shrieks erupted all around her.
Blending into the throng, Zhu Lexing and Yan Mian abandoned any hope of watching her perform.
The din was deafening. Zhu Lexing barely registered someone calling her name at first, then realized it was Yan Mian.
She turned to find Yan Mian looking unwell. “Let’s just go.”
Zhu Lexing didn’t hesitate. She took Yan Mian’s hand and called out to the people ahead, “Excuse us, please.”
Clear of the crush at last, she twisted open a water bottle and passed it over. “…Didn’t you take your meds before we left? This bad?”
Yan Mian shook her head. “I don’t know.”
She sipped slowly. It hit Zhu Lexing then—this was another death flag. 【How do we cure Yan Mian’s illness?】 she demanded of the System.
【You could suggest surgery abroad. Her protagonist halo guarantees a hundred percent success, though prep and recovery will take about three months total.】
Zhu Lexing: 【…At this rate, how long until I rack up all the points?】
【Depends on when you eliminate every last one of Yan Mian’s death flags, Host.】
School started soon—senior year. Yan Mian’s stubborn streak meant no way she’d take leave for surgery right then. Either tough it out until graduation, illness dragging on for another half year, or reclaim the guaranteed admission slot that was rightfully hers during senior year.
Zhu Lexing fell quiet. Yan Mian paused, then spoke up. “I’m okay now. Where next? Want to head inside and look around?”
Zhu Lexing asked, “…You want to?”
Yan Mian smiled her way. “Yeah. Always wanted to, never got the chance.”
Zhu Lexing perked right up. “Really? I know a little—let me give you the rundown.”
Yan Mian trailed after her, the Alpha’s sudden spark of enthusiasm tugging a reflexive smile to her lips. Yet a shadow of doubt clouded her mind all the same.
Zhu Lexing…
What are you really up to?
Yan Mian figured Zhu Lexing’s claim of “knowing a little” was just false modesty.
She knew the Alpha wasn’t much for history, yet her explanations flowed flawlessly. Every detail landed just right, utterly convincing.
In moments, curious tourists drifted over to eavesdrop.
“So, this is…”
Hands clasped behind her back, Zhu Lexing strode ahead like a pro tour guide—until she spun around to find a near-full group in tow.
Staring at their bright-eyed faces, she caught someone asking, “What is it?”
Zhu Lexing, who’d been parroting System-fed facts: “…………”
Blushing to her ears, she rushed through the next few exhibits. “And that’s it—”
Another voice piped up. “Do you do groups? My class is coming this afternoon…”
Zhu Lexing yearned to clap her hands over her face and flee.
Yan Mian chuckled. “We’re students ourselves—class this afternoon.”
Admiring looks showered them from every side.
This time, Yan Mian offered the water.
Unlike Zhu Lexing’s crisp handover earlier, their fingers brushed as she took it—just fingertips, but the warmth had Zhu Lexing dropping her gaze.
She’d barely cracked the cap when Yan Mian said, “Zhu Lexing. Are you embarrassed?”
Zhu Lexing nearly sputtered. “Embarrassed? Why would I—”
Yan Mian nodded at her neck. “It’s bright red.”
Zhu Lexing: “…………”
Why did summer break even exist?!
She gulped down her water and asked fiercely, “It’s just hot, is that not allowed? Can’t a person feel hot?”
Yan Mian replied, “That’s not it.”
She paused for a few seconds before adding, “I just think you’re really impressive.”
Zhu Lexing: “…”
She lifted her head instantly, but now it was Yan Mian who lowered her gaze. Zhu Lexing wanted her to stop talking, yet Yan Mian continued, “You know so much. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t have spoken up in front of all those people.”
Zhu Lexing thought, Is this like a homeroom teacher writing student evaluations? All that formal language about being graceful and well-read—
But Yan Mian’s sincerity caught her off guard. Zhu Lexing drew in a breath, mustered her courage, and stammered, “You… you’re not the same? Acting in front of all those people.”
Yan Mian gave a faint smile. “It’s different.”
Zhu Lexing pressed, “…How is it different? Doesn’t your director yell at people? If it were me, I’d…”
She trailed off as realization hit her. She bit her tongue hard to snap herself out of it.
Yan Mian’s expression turned stunned in an instant. “How do you know about the director…?”
The director on that set did have a habit of cursing—not excessively, but it happened. Thanks to Liu Su’s influence, though, he never directed it at Yan Mian. The other actors bore the brunt instead. It was just a small production, everyone scraping by, so no one aired it online; they simply endured.
…So how did Zhu Lexing know?
Zhu Lexing offered no reply. She turned on her heel and walked away. “Didn’t you want to see everything? There’s still one floor left. Let’s go.”
Yan Mian watched her retreating back and came to a conclusion.
Zhu Lexing had visited the set.
More than once.
…But when?
Zhu Lexing felt like every day brought the same cycle: big talk felt great in the moment, but scrambling to cover her tracks afterward was pure hell.
The first floor featured some newly unearthed hairpins, while the second displayed ancient swords and other artifacts.
Fewer people up here. To dispel the awkward tension, Zhu Lexing eyed a well-preserved ancient sword and blurted out, “Doesn’t it look just like… the sword from Shi Ruofeng’s comic?”
It had been a few days earlier when Zhu Lexing had stumbled upon Shi Ruofeng’s shared link in the group chat.
The ongoing comic had a very grounded title: Rebirth: I Am Dragon Aotian. It followed the tale of a sharp-chinned xianxia protagonist, humiliated and bullied until his rebirth, when he cleaved the heavens with a single sword.
Clichéd as it was, the artwork was exquisite, drawing a flood of scrolling barrage comments—mostly effusive praise for the artist.
Zhu Lexing figured Shi Ruofeng just enjoyed comics in her downtime. She skimmed a few pages and closed it without a second thought. That is, until Shi Ruofeng deleted the share from the group chat. A few puzzled “?” messages followed sporadically.
—Wrong post.
That single line tipped Zhu Lexing off immediately.
Ever the straightforward high school girl of the new millennium, she asked Shi Ruofeng outright: Why’d you delete it?
Shi Ruofeng replied with a question mark.
The next message was brutally honest.
—Because I drew it. Didn’t want you all to know.
Zhu Lexing: “…………”
Thinking she’d blown Shi Ruofeng’s cover, Zhu Lexing was ready to grovel and swear secrecy when another message popped up.
—But whatever, now that you know, it’s fine. My art’s great, after all.
Zhu Lexing: “…”
Confident and self-aware. Classic you.
From then on, Shi Ruofeng casually dropped her alias and shared daily doses of sharp-chinned protagonist antics. The others jumped in, urging updates and roasting the plot alongside her.
Yan Mian glanced over before lowering her eyes to pull up the comic. “It does look similar.”
Zhu Lexing ventured, “Probably referenced some online images, right?”
She snapped a quick photo and posted it to the group.
Shi Ruofeng’s verdict: Real thing looks pretty nice.
Li Nian fired back a second later: I think the drawing’s better.
Zhu Lexing: “…”
What devious scheming with this BO pairing… Wait, pairing?
She glanced instinctively at Yan Mian.
The group chat had already exploded.
—Tip 50!
—AAAAA stop flaunting it in front of me! You’re ruining my perfect day!
—I ship it!
Yan Mian didn’t look up. She tapped out a message, sent it, then asked Zhu Lexing, “Why are you looking at me?”
Zhu Lexing couldn’t bring herself to say “because you’re cute.” She glanced at her screen instead—and there was Yan Mian’s post: 【@Mind Your Own Business Heart@Never Forget】
Zhu Lexing: “…”
If memory served, this was Yan Mian’s first time joking around in the group.
Li Nian unleashed a barrage of question marks, clearly shocked that Yan Mian had joined the teasing frenzy.
The chat scrolled at breakneck speed. Shi Ruofeng resorted to copy-pasting to forcibly clear the spam: 【@Healthy High School Student[heart]@Yan Mian】
Zhu Lexing slowly powered off her phone.
High school girl drama—she didn’t get it, and she didn’t want to. Whatever. She was done.
Yan Mian pocketed her phone, clearly fighting a smile but losing the battle. She asked, “When did you change your name?”
Zhu Lexing replied, “…Doesn’t it suit me… and, well, this group?”
Yan Mian recalled the group name, Women’s Health Seminar: “…”
