Chapter 48: ◎Whatever You Call Yourself, It’s My Name.◎

Zhu Lexing felt like everything had gone completely haywire.

Her brain was still reeling from the alcohol’s numbing haze, and she even toyed with the idea of pitting the system against Yan Mian in a fight.

Whoever won first, she’d listen to.

But that was far too wicked.

Zhu Lexing quickly shelved the thought. After hesitating for several seconds, she snatched her clothes back from Yan Mian’s grasp. “Wait for me just a moment.”

Her voice dropped low. “Just a moment, that’s all.”

As she walked away, Zhu Lexing couldn’t shake the feeling that the scene was utterly bizarre. All she wanted was a quick word with the system—why did it feel like a tearful farewell between lovers on the verge of parting forever?

It wasn’t until she reached the end of the corridor that the system finally spoke up.

Having confirmed that Zhu Lexing had no intention of taking the conventional route, the system resolved to outdo her in unconventionality.

It scrapped the original plan and laid everything bare without reservation: 【In fact, the requirement of collecting 800 Points to leave this world was a deception on the system’s part against the Host.】

Zhu Lexing, on the verge of calling it out for dragging its feet: “…………”

It led straight with a King Bomb. But perhaps because she’d endured so many shocks since waking up, Zhu Lexing merely blanked out for a few seconds before pressing: 【So none of the tasks I’m doing now are fake? They won’t harm Yan Mian, will they?】

If even the method of leaving this world was a fabrication by the system, who knew what other traps it might have planted?

Fortunately, the system hadn’t lied about this part. Zhu Lexing’s true purpose here was indeed to alter Yan Mian’s fate.

She had always harbored more suspicion than trust toward such an alien entity. The question had barely left her when she regained her full composure: 【So? How exactly do I leave?】

The system answered with blunt honesty: 【By being together with Yan Mian.】

Zhu Lexing was certain she’d misheard.

Outside the window, the wind and snow hung in eerie silence.

The nape of her neck still seemed to retain the lingering warmth of the Alpha’s fingertips. Once the door clicked shut, much of the shock and hurt faded from Yan Mian’s face. She stared at the door for a moment before turning her gaze away.

Yan Mian didn’t for a second believe Zhu Lexing had truly left. The other woman was too upright and stubborn to simply dust herself off and walk away after realizing what had just transpired between them.

Whatever had her so urgently preoccupied had to be something far more pressing.

Yan Mian suspected it was whatever had transformed her into “Zhu Lexing” in the first place.

She couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but the pheromones permeating the air had ground to a halt—not just the faint gardenia scent, but even her own. This unprecedented void left her disoriented at first, yet upon reflection, it brought an exhilarating sense of liberation.

It was as if she’d cast off heavy shackles, answerable to nothing and no one but herself.

That was a key reason she’d snapped back to her senses so swiftly.

A small alarm clock sat on the bedside table. Yan Mian picked it up and stared at it for several seconds, her pupils contracting.

The hands were frozen in place, refusing to tick forward.

A narrow gap showed in the window, yet not a whisper of wind slipped through.

Time itself had stopped.

But… why could she still move?

The system paid no mind to Zhu Lexing’s fragile mental state.

It stated plainly: 【You have only two choices.】

【1. Be together with Yan Mian, win all her love, and automatically depart this world upon reaching 100% favorability.】 The system continued, 【2. Maintain your current 80% favorability, only to be erased by the world when the character’s death date arrives—resulting in your total disappearance.】

Zhu Lexing instinctively reached for the character’s death date the system had once displayed.

But with the system’s “update” complete, all those features had vanished. No matter how flashy they’d seemed, they were nothing but the system’s fabricated nonsense—utterly meaningless.

Live, or die.

Zhu Lexing thought, was this even a choice?

Had she never experienced rebirth, she might have shrugged and accepted death as death.

But she’d been given a second chance. In this world, she’d met the finest people imaginable—some who liked her, some who loved her.

To claim she could simply abandon it all rang hollow, a sanctimonious lie.

Seeing Zhu Lexing waver yet refuse to commit, the system played its ace: 【The Host needn’t worry. Regardless of your choice, Yan Mian will forget all about you once you leave.】

The words rooted Zhu Lexing to the spot.

Her hesitation stemmed precisely from fear of hurting Yan Mian.

If Yan Mian forgot her entirely, every reason to agonize evaporated.

Yet a voice deep inside insisted otherwise.

This wasn’t the binary dilemma she craved.

Unfortunately, those were the only options laid before her.

After a long silence, Zhu Lexing spoke: 【…And what about me? Will I still remember her?】

The system replied: 【You may freely choose to erase your memories or retain them.】

Zhu Lexing reflected that, at this juncture, resistance seemed pointless.

She had only one viable path.

Remembering the electric jolt that had coursed through her moments ago, she rubbed her arm and drew a deep breath: 【Next time you shock me, give me a heads-up first.】

Zhu Lexing glanced toward her own room.

The door stood slightly ajar. Only after ceasing her exchange with the system did she register the profound stillness around her. The time stop persisted. 【Why can Yan Mian still…?】

The system answered truthfully: 【You exchanged saliva with her moments ago, forging a degree of mental linkage between you…】

Its logic was uniquely its own—each phrase impeccably formal, yet the whole carried an oddly erotic undertone.

Zhu Lexing’s head spun as she parsed it, distilling the core implication: the more contact she had with Yan Mian, the stronger their mental bond grew. With the system embedded in her psyche, prolonged proximity might one day let Yan Mian overhear its voice.

That was why the System had been in such a frantic rush earlier, urging Zhu Lexing to leave.

Zhu Lexing was still a bit dazed, but she latched onto the key point: 【…So according to what you’re saying, if I mark her, could she leave with me?】

System: 【The Protagonist cannot leave this world.】

Zhu Lexing had no choice but to give up.

~~~

When the door was pushed open, time had resumed its flow once more.

Before the sound of footsteps reached her ears, Yan Mian had already set the alarm clock back in place. She tamped down the whirlwind of thoughts in her heart, lowered her gaze, and continued filling out the application with a dejected air.

The moment Zhu Lexing stepped into the room, she was enveloped by a thick wave of pheromones.

Zhu Lexing let out a breath. A breeze slipped into the room, bringing a hint of coolness that also seemed to lighten the weight pressing on her heart. Remembering what the System had just told her, Zhu Lexing finally called out, “Yan Mian.”

Yan Mian lifted her eyes to look at her, then paused.

The Zhu Lexing before her now seemed to have made some decision. Her expression was far calmer than before, giving nothing away about her true thoughts. Yan Mian felt a flicker of instinctive panic, wondering if something around Zhu Lexing had pressured her into this.

But if that were the case, Zhu Lexing wouldn’t look like this.

Yan Mian forced down her unease, her voice still a little hoarse. “Lexing?”

Yan Mian had already straightened her clothes, the fabric concealing every trace of their earlier intimacy. Yet just seeing her face made Zhu Lexing recall that scene from moments ago.

If the first kiss on stage had been an accident…

What had just happened was her own drunken impulses laid bare.

Everyone had to take responsibility for their actions, and Zhu Lexing was no exception.

Staring at Yan Mian’s face and recalling the System’s words, Zhu Lexing began, “Yan Mian.”

We—

Should—

Be together?

“What do you think our relationship is right now?”

Before she could finish, another female voice cut in first.

Zhu Lexing froze in place.

In the end, Yan Mian hadn’t been able to hold back.

Faced with the unknown, she was still afraid Zhu Lexing might say the word “leave.” No one knew if this would be their last meeting, their last conversation.

In the end, Yan Mian had asked anyway.

The question was direct, almost timid.

If Zhu Lexing felt the same way about her…

Then they could be together.

If not, then it would be just as the other had said before.

Classmates. Friends. Family.

This time, Yan Mian was handing the choice to Zhu Lexing. Whatever she said, that would be it.

Zhu Lexing heard all the unspoken implications.

She gazed into the Omega’s eyes. Even as Yan Mian’s knuckles clenched in agitation, the corners of her lips curved up slightly, as if trying to ease Zhu Lexing with a smile.

There were far too many things in life one might regret.

Zhu Lexing wasn’t sure if this was the right choice, but if she didn’t do it, she knew she’d regret it forever.

Zhu Lexing slowly approached Yan Mian, noticing how the other woman’s breathing hitched instantly, her gaze drawing ever closer. The lily of the valley scent in the air grew thicker, and in a daze, their lips were only a few centimeters apart.

But in the end, Zhu Lexing didn’t kiss her. Instead, she took Yan Mian’s hand and pressed it gently against her own cheek.

Just as Yan Mian had done before.

In that silent standoff, Yan Mian realized this was Zhu Lexing’s answer.

The response was so sudden that her mind went blank. She stared at Zhu Lexing for several seconds before finding her voice again, her tone floating unsteadily. “Lexing.”

“…” Zhu Lexing seemed a little awkward. She hesitated before saying, “Didn’t you do this before?”

The last time she’d touched Yan Mian’s cheek like this, Zhu Lexing had felt an extraordinary closeness. Her pinky had nearly brushed Yan Mian’s jaw, just steps away from her neck.

Pressing the palm to her face now still sent a shiver down Zhu Lexing’s spine.

But looking at Yan Mian’s face—somehow even more bewildered than her own—and breathing in that familiar lily of the valley scent, Zhu Lexing felt herself relax a little.

“I thought,” Zhu Lexing said, “you liked it.”

Yan Mian blinked slowly.

Zhu Lexing added quickly, “Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll—”

Seeing Yan Mian’s expression shift toward hurt again, Zhu Lexing wondered what wild conclusions she was jumping to this time.

She said coolly, “I just won’t let you touch me anymore.”

The tears welling in Yan Mian’s eyes halted. She looked up at Zhu Lexing. “Can I still touch you?”

Zhu Lexing glanced at her wrist—pale and slender—and muttered awkwardly, “Aren’t you touching me right now?”

The atmosphere suddenly turned strangely intimate.

Zhu Lexing sat down beside Yan Mian. The Omega’s fingers slowly caressed her face, the faint itchiness making Zhu Lexing narrow her eyes slightly. She recalled that earlier, Yan Mian had done the same.

Little by little, testing the waters.

Then little by little, pushing boundaries.

The sudden realization made Zhu Lexing pause—and what made her entire body stiffen was how Yan Mian’s fingers drifted slowly toward her earlobe.

Zhu Lexing grabbed that wrist just in time. It was pale and delicate.

Zhu Lexing tried her best to ignore it all, fixing her gaze on Yan Mian’s face. “You—”

But Yan Mian only smiled at her, tucking a stray lock of Zhu Lexing’s hair behind her ear. Softly, she asked, “What did Lexing think I was going to do?”

As her fingers lingered on the earlobe, Zhu Lexing felt her ears flush hot instantly, the warmth flooding her face. She whipped her head away.

“…How should I know what you’re thinking? I’m not you.”

Yan Mian didn’t reply. She withdrew her hand.

Zhu Lexing sneaked a sideways glance, thinking she’d upset her.

But all she saw were the Omega’s own flushed earlobes.

Zhu Lexing: “…”

She wasn’t angry.

She was embarrassed.

After a long moment, Zhu Lexing asked quietly, “Do—do you have your strength back now?”

The words had barely left her mouth when Zhu Lexing thought they sounded a bit off.

It seemed as though she was about to do something with Yan Mian that required a bit of physical exertion.

Yan Mian’s gaze shifted subtly, but she didn’t tease Zhu Lexing. She simply nodded and said earnestly, “It’s better now. Lexing, your heat period…”

Thanks to their close contact moments ago and the system’s relentless barrage, that restless urge had already faded to the point where she could smooth it away with barely a thought.

But with this soft, fragrant beauty right there beside her, Zhu Lexing felt that if she spent any more time like this with Yan Mian, she might do something that clashed with her sense of morality.

“I’ll just take the inhibitor later.”

Yan Mian nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

A few seconds of silence passed before she spoke again. “Then… could you walk me back to my room?”

It was just a short trip up the stairs—did she really need an escort? Wasn’t her intention a little too obvious?

Zhu Lexing fought to keep her lips from curving up instinctively. But in the next moment, she remembered that things between her and Yan Mian were different now.

“…Sure.” Zhu Lexing paused, then added, “Since you asked, I’ll reluctantly see you back.”

Yan Mian caught the faint shift in her expression, and the amusement hidden in her eyes grew a touch deeper.

She didn’t scoop Zhu Lexing into her arms like before. Instead, her voice took on a note of feigned reluctance. “Is it really that much of a chore? Actually, if you don’t want to…”

Hearing that tone from Yan Mian melted Zhu Lexing’s heart on the spot. “You said it yourself—I’ll walk you—”

Yan Mian let out a sigh. “If you’re not willing, it’s really no big deal…”

Zhu Lexing realized people truly had to watch their words. She said solemnly, “I want to walk you back.”

Only then did Yan Mian reply, “Mm, alright. Since you offered…”

Zhu Lexing: “…”

Once they reached the first floor, they finally spotted the cake on the table—and the two plush dolls beside it.

Zhu Lexing recalled Yan Mian’s mention of a “surprise.”

The cake was the surprise. The dolls were the gifts.

She stepped forward and picked up the two plushies. After a silent pause, she handed the Xingxing one to Yan Mian. “Good night.”

Yan Mian accepted it and examined the exquisitely crafted doll for a few seconds before looking up at Zhu Lexing. “Zhu Lexing, good night.”

The shift in how she addressed her made Zhu Lexing freeze on the spot. She stared at Yan Mian in silence.

…Why wasn’t she calling her Lexing anymore?

Silence spoke louder than words. Yan Mian said with particular composure, “Wasn’t it you who said it? You’re Zhu Lexing.”

Zhu Lexing’s head throbbed.

Every word spoken and every deed done would come back around.

She drew in a deep breath and said coolly, “Actually, I have lots of names.”

Yan Mian smiled. “Like what?”

“Like Lexing. Xingxing…” After rattling off those two names Yan Mian often used for her, Zhu Lexing realized she didn’t have many others. Seeing that Yan Mian wasn’t finished teasing, she bit her lip and murmured softly, “Yan Mian. No matter what you call me, it’s my name.”

Yan Mian, who had been eager for more of her reactions: “…”