After Being Reborn, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessed - Chapter 94

“Lin Duxi! How are you here?” An Yu couldn’t hide her shock; her eyes were full of surprise and uncontrollable joy.

Lin Duxi looked up at her, her eyes filled with tenderness.

“My girlfriend missed me. She looked so pitiful over the video call, like a little puppy. How could I not come to her?”

Lin Duxi cupped An Yu’s face, giving her a few gentle kisses, then released her arms to take off An Yu’s coat.

Her body, tired from a long day, now throbbed with a heart pounding so fiercely that An Yu just wanted to keep looking at her, feeling she could never get enough.

Lin Duxi indulgently pushed away her hands. “Stop staring.”

An Yu’s gaze was too intense. She loved how Lin Duxi looked at her like this, but she knew she couldn’t keep staring forever.

Her ears flushed under her long hair.

After a long separation, seeing her lover in front of her, their hearts surged like a pebble dropped into a calm lake—everything felt so natural.

The soft white light bathed their skin; Lin Duxi looked as ethereal as a celestial being descending from the heavens.

An Yu was like the most loyal devotee by the side of this celestial being, fulfilling every wish she had.

In her daze, trembling, Lin Duxi felt as if the missing pieces in her memory were gradually being restored, becoming whole like perfectly rounded pearls.

An Yu had died in summer—fervent, burning summer, suffocating just like six years ago.

That day, Lin Duxi returned home from work as usual, skillfully opening a drawer. Once her work was done, there was nothing else to occupy her mind.

Her consciousness seemed only aware of work—perhaps she had been numbing herself with it.

Jiang Yu’s medical advice to avoid medication had faded from her ears. Without it, she could not stop herself from searching for An Yu.

Yet she despised herself for it. How could she ever hope that An Yu wouldn’t hate her?

After taking the medicine, Lin Duxi sat dazed in her chair. The sunset faded into darkness, and only then did her body move.

Her phone on the table blinked a few times, and Lin Duxi’s dim eyes lit up slightly.

Perhaps An Yu had posted on Weibo.

She opened her phone eagerly, only to find a few black-and-white photos on An Yu’s Weibo fan page.

Bang.

The sound of the phone hitting the ground.

Lin Duxi stared blankly ahead, her mind empty, as if something had snapped in an instant.

After a brief moment of confusion came sheer disbelief. She ran out of the villa without any pretense, driving straight to the location shown in the posts.

Hours had passed, and when she arrived, An Yu had already been taken away. The blood on the ground was barely covered by a cheap colored plastic sheet, with dark red stains faintly visible beneath, stark against the night, piercing Lin Duxi’s eyes.

Police had cordoned off the area, keeping onlookers at bay. A crowd craned their necks, but no one noticed Lin Duxi hidden among them.

Her eyes fixated on the blood-stained plastic sheet, unblinking until the wind made them red.

The white dress she wore fluttered in the wind, slowly stained red in her vision, merging with the blood on the concrete.

She didn’t care about imagination or reality. Lin Duxi stubbornly thought that if she was covered in red like An Yu, they would be the same.

Eventually, she was pulled back by Ji Qi.

Lin Duxi wanted to see An Yu’s body, but with no official identity—neither a friend nor a relative—she was blocked. She did not act out violently but sat in a chair, eyes bloodshot, staring at the mortuary, isolating herself from her surroundings.

Her eyes were red, yet no tears came. Her hair was messy, and her mental state was on the brink of collapse.

Ji Qi, rushing over, was stunned.

She had always known Lin Duxi had a woman she liked, but in all the years she had been by Lin Duxi’s side, she had only seen the woman on videos on Lin Duxi’s phone. Lin Duxi had never sought her out.

Ji Qi had once searched for the woman—An Yu, a minor celebrity—but their careers seemed worlds apart. They had only attended the same high school.

First love?

First loves are unforgettable, Ji Qi thought. She bent down, trying to make eye contact with Lin Duxi, even knowing it was probably in vain.

“Let’s go back first. Don’t interfere with the police investigation.”

Lin Duxi seemed not to hear her, still staring ahead, not giving her even a glance.

Ji Qi understood Lin Duxi’s state—this behavior showed her mental state was fragile. She arranged for people to “take” her back and summoned Jiang Yu for treatment.

The effect of treatment was unclear, but Lin Duxi no longer displayed the dazed and obsessive behavior from the first day. She resumed work, cooked, ate the tasteless food she put in her mouth, and then slept after washing up.

Ji Qi thought she must have imagined it.

As Lin Duxi’s manager, she considered her relationship with Lin Duxi close but not intimate. She feared Lin Duxi would truly falter.

Yet, except for the abnormal reaction when first learning of An Yu’s death, Lin Duxi’s state over the next two days was the same as always.

She felt relieved, but also sighed: first love is best kept in one’s heart. An Yu and Lin Duxi had not been in contact for years. The initial panic made sense.

The turning point came on the third afternoon after An Yu’s death. Lin Duxi received a call from her building management saying someone was looking for her.

Lin Duxi was annoyed, having been avoiding reality for so long. But the caller’s name shocked her.

The caller was Wen Zhenhe.

Wen Zhenhe was An Yu’s family butler.

He entered the complex, the wind blowing fiercely. White hair beneath his hat fluttered.

Lin Duxi suddenly heard the sound of something breaking, shattering the illusions in her mind.

“Miss Lin,” Wen Zhenhe greeted politely, now in his sixties, still elegant though his back bent.

“These things… I found while sorting Miss An Yu’s belongings.” He held a large box sealed with tape.

Lin Duxi took it, staring down, her fingers brushing the rough texture of the box.

Wen Zhenhe couldn’t bear to look. He never imagined An Yu would leave first, leaving him to handle her affairs.

In just a few years, the master, madam, and young lady had all passed away. His hair had already turned completely white.

“We have found some clues about the suspect. This case isn’t a suicide,” he said hoarsely.

Lin Duxi looked up at him, her eyes devoid of light. Wen Zhenhe froze, suddenly regretting handing the box to her.

Some truths are harder to bear than ignorance.

“I understand,” she said. Though it was midsummer, her voice was colder than winter, almost frosty, hoarse even compared to Wen Zhenhe.

She carried the box back.

She placed it on the table, then attended to her routine: cooking, eating, washing up. She avoided the box with her gaze, opening her phone anxiously to distract herself.

Her hands skillfully opened Weibo, as she had done countless times before, clicking on An Yu’s page.

Her fingers froze. A few drops of tears fell onto the screen, blurring the familiar page.

She hurriedly wiped the water, but tears continued to fall uncontrollably. Her heart felt as if it had been cut open with a knife, blood pouring. She clutched her chest tightly.

A sudden, dull pain roared through her. She felt her heart might explode; the pain left her breathless.

At this moment, Lin Duxi finally accepted that An Yu was gone.

That eternally cheerful An Yu, who would always smile at her, had left forever.

Lin Duxi desperately tore open the box tape. Inside were An Yu’s paintings—depictions of her, An Yu reading, doing homework, napping at her desk, smiling at her.

The technique was naive, but every stroke conveyed the artist’s love.

Her fingers trembled as she gently touched one of the paintings. The moist tip wet the paper, and she recoiled as if burned, panic in her eyes.

She had ruined An Yu’s painting. She couldn’t. An Yu would be sad. She couldn’t make An Yu sad.

She hurriedly let go, wiping her hands and face of tears.

She hung An Yu’s paintings in every corner of her room. The black-and-white sketches were treasures to be cherished. She even opened the box and placed it by her bed, smiling faintly, curling up as if An Yu were with her every moment.

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