After Being Reborn, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessed - Chapter 108

Lin Duxi had always thought she had no emotions. As a child, she witnessed her mother die in a fire, and she believed her own feelings had perished along with that blaze.

Later, when she entered the orphanage, she remained the loneliest child there. At first, the director thought she had been traumatized into silence and even considered taking her to a hospital. Eventually, they realized that she simply did not want to speak to anyone.

Her mother had told her she was not a monster. She used to believe that, but now, she would rather see herself as a monster devoid of emotion.

So she deliberately withdrew from interactions with the outside world and focused only on herself. The one person she cared about in this world was gone, and her feelings quickly stripped away along with them.

At least, that was what she believed—and what she practiced.

After entering Jiangcheng No. 2 High School, her academic workload became heavy. To maintain the same level of excellence as before, she devoted almost all her time to studying. After a year in the same class, she didn’t know the names of her classmates, yet everyone in the class recognized her.

The quiet, beautiful, academically gifted girl—in high school, she was like a “white moonlight,” impossible to rival.

Lin Duxi remained unaware of this. She spent her days buried in study, endlessly, the experiences of her youth forcing her to understand human warmth and emotions earlier than other children her age.

Jiangcheng No. 2 High School was far from the orphanage. For the 7 a.m. morning reading session, she needed to wake at 5 a.m., navigate in darkness to the bus stop, and take a two-hour bus ride to arrive just on time. The orphanage had a vehicle, but with so many children, it wasn’t practical to prioritize her alone. She knew this, so whenever the director offered to drive her, she politely declined.

School ended at 9:30 p.m. By the time she returned, it was already late at night. Lin Duxi focused solely on finishing her urgent assignments.

Tonight, however, she felt unusually hot. She put down her pen and touched her forehead—it was burning. Sure enough, she had a fever.

Dazedly staring at her exercises, Lin Duxi paused for two seconds before rummaging through her drawer to find two cold medicine pills of unknown production date. She swallowed them with cold water.

In the middle of the night, her forehead flared up again. She tossed and turned in a haze all night, and by morning, she couldn’t get up on time. Her mind was still foggy; she knew her cold had worsened and planned to visit the infirmary after class.

By the time she took the bus to school, morning reading had already begun. Lin Duxi hurried up the stairs, her head still heavy. She stopped at the stair landing, shook her head, rubbed her temples, and then continued with her assignments.

Suddenly, someone darted out ahead, likely as unaware as she was, and they collided in the empty corridor.

Weak and unsteady, Lin Duxi fell to the ground, her books slipping from her hands. She stared at the scattered exercises for two seconds, then her gaze fell upon a pair of delicate, pale hands with defined knuckles, picking up the fallen books.

“Are you okay, classmate? I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you hurt anywhere?” The clear, concerned voice flowed into her ears like a gentle stream. For a moment, her muddled consciousness regained clarity—and she froze.

That voice… she had heard it before.

Looking up, the first thing Lin Duxi noticed was the girl’s worried expression, her chestnut eyes clear and pure. Lin Duxi felt a constriction in her chest as fragments of memories rushed back—she seemed to see little girls in puffy skirts, dirty cheeks, reaching out to her in the evening glow, sweetly saying:

“Then we’ll be good friends.”

Lin Duxi stared at the girl, her once-dim heart suddenly beating again in the ashes. She heard her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The girl’s gaze burned against her face, making her cheeks flush. Hastily, she swallowed the fried dough, lowered her head, and helped Lin Duxi gather all the books. When she handed them back, she noticed Lin Duxi had already stood up, her face returning to its usual cold composure.

“Sorry, classmate. I didn’t see clearly just now. Did I hit you anywhere?” The girl asked cautiously, giving the books back.

Lin Duxi accepted them, replying, “I’m fine.” Her voice came out hoarse and rough, even she was surprised.

“That’s good,” the girl exhaled, glanced at her wristwatch, and said, “Class is about to start. I’ll go first.”

Before Lin Duxi could respond, the girl ran past her like the wind. A faint breeze lifted her hair, and the air seemed tinged with the subtle scent of laundry detergent.

Lin Duxi turned and watched her retreating figure until she disappeared around the corner. Yet the memory in her mind only deepened.

It was her.

Back in the classroom, Lin Duxi sat at her desk. Her deskmate, who had witnessed the collision, expressed concern:

“Are you okay? That looked like a hard bump with Anyu.”

Lin Duxi stiffened, suddenly looking up. “Anyu… her name is Anyu.”

Her deskmate, startled by her sudden reaction, nodded. “Yes, Anyu from Class 9. She’s not on our floor, so it’s normal you don’t know her. But the homeroom teacher came unusually early today to check for tardiness—you’re unlucky.”

Lin Duxi didn’t respond. Her lips trembled unconsciously as she whispered the name softly, her heartbeat still fiercely pounding against her ears.

She wasn’t unlucky. She had found the person she had “deceived,” even though that person no longer recognized her.

Finally, she realized that the shattering sound she had heard that day when she met Anyu was… the sound of her own heart. Since that encounter, the name “Anyu” repeatedly surfaced around her—through class chatter or casual gossip. Even from a distance, she could catch it, deeper and deeper, imprinted on her heart.

Lin Duxi felt she was no longer herself.

On the first day of the second year, Lin Duxi arrived early and was called to the office by the homeroom teacher, who patiently advised her to study hard. She had heard this advice hundreds of times and was long weary of it.

“Teacher Xu, you don’t need to lecture. She’s already my student now,” a female voice interrupted. Both turned toward the source—it was a teacher nearby.

Lin Duxi recognized her. She was Anyu’s homeroom teacher.

“Teacher Du, I just wanted to say a few more words because I’m reluctant to part,” Teacher Xu said with a smile.

Teacher Du flipped through a booklet, saying, “Lin Duxi, last year’s final exam—first in the school.” She paused, hiding the second half of her sentence in a satisfied smile.

“Well, the first day of school means seat changes. Usually, we let students choose according to ranking. Since you’re first, pick your seat here.” She handed the booklet to Lin Duxi.

“Thank you, Teacher,” Lin Duxi replied simply, taking the booklet to check the seats. She had no interest in this; she could study anywhere. Yet, as she casually flipped a page, she suddenly froze.

Seeing her hesitation, Teacher Du spoke, “If you’re unsure, I can pick a seat for you.”

Snapping out of her daze, Lin Duxi closed the booklet. “Thank you, Teacher. I have one request.”

“Say it.”

“I want to be the deskmate of Anyu.”

Teacher Du raised an eyebrow. “A bit bold… may I ask why?”

Lin Duxi’s face didn’t redden, her heart steady. “I saw the class roster. I don’t know most of the students. I already know Anyu, so sitting with her will help me integrate faster.”

Teacher Du considered this, feeling it made sense, though something felt unusual. She met Lin Duxi’s firm gaze.

“All right. I’ll go with your choice.”

Lin Duxi thanked her, chatted briefly, and returned to the classroom. Some classmates had already arrived. She went to the seat Teacher Du assigned, put her bag in the desk, and began her exercises.

Half an hour passed. She hadn’t solved a single problem, instead glancing at the seat beside her repeatedly.

Finally, she put down her pen, checked the time, and realized class was about to start. She frowned, picked up a notebook and pen, and left the classroom.

“Where are you going? Class is about to start!” a classmate asked.

“To ask a question,” she replied, hurrying down the stairs.

Though she knew she would see Anyu today, she wanted to see her sooner—she wanted it desperately.

She had heard of a wall connecting the campus to an outside tree, where tardy students often climbed in. Lin Duxi searched the empty campus for that spot, trying one place after another.

Finally, she found the right wall. She sat on a wooden board beneath it, watching the lush tree beyond. Her hand unconsciously clenched her notebook, her entire body tense like a statue.

She knew she was acting irrationally. She shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t like her.

But she didn’t care.

After a while, she heard rustling beyond the wall, the shaking of branches.

Lin Duxi sprang up, nervously straightening her clothes. Her gaze locked onto the spot, palms slightly sweaty, her notebook now misshapen from her grip.

A delicate, defined hand grasped the wall. A light figure leapt onto the wall. The girl smiled triumphantly. Lin Duxi felt her heart soften, and her lips involuntarily curved.

Their eyes met, and the girl froze.

Lin Duxi walked over, hands behind her smoothing out the notebook, her eyes full of a warmth and affection she hadn’t realized she felt, blending with the cicadas’ September chorus.

“Classmate, are you practicing climbing walls?”

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