After Being Reborn, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessed - Chapter 95

The person who killed An Yu was quickly caught, but Lin Duxi never expected it would be Lin Ze.

Lin Ze was sentenced to death, and Lin Yongfeng came to her for help.

On a rainy night, with thunder rumbling across the sky, Lin Duxi’s gaze was colder than the storm itself. A sharp, cutting light shone in her eyes as raindrops struck the ground.

In the brief flash of lightning, Lin Yongfeng was pinned in place by the crimson hatred in her eyes.

Dripping wet, Lin Duxi returned to her villa. She stayed there for three days until Ji Qi noticed something was wrong and rushed to her house, only to find her unconscious with a high fever.

Ji Qi panicked and rushed her to the hospital. The roar of the vehicle seemed to pierce Lin Duxi’s fevered mind, and the blurred scenery made her feel as if she had returned six years ago.

The missing piece of her heart finally throbbed painfully, mocking her for the foolish choices she had made back then.

So self-righteous. So prideful.

In the front seat, Ji Qi anxiously looked at the red light. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lin Duxi’s pale, cracked lips moving.

She thought something had gone wrong with Lin Duxi’s condition again and leaned over in alarm, only to freeze the next moment.

Lin Duxi had said: “Don’t break up.”

After Lin Duxi was admitted, her studio issued a statement saying she was ill and needed rest. Ji Qi stayed in the hospital every day, occasionally reporting to Jiang Yu.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Lin Duxi.

Something very, very wrong.

As her manager, Ji Qi was responsible for Lin Duxi’s work, and she generally didn’t interfere with her personal life unless it affected work—but the impact of someone Ji Qi had never met, now deceased, on Lin Duxi was beyond what she could imagine.

The words Lin Duxi spoke while feverish forced her to connect this illness to An Yu.

Fortunately, Lin Duxi was only suffering from a fever and recovered after a few days of rest.

Ji Qi looked at Lin Duxi sitting on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the trees outside, and sighed involuntarily. She wanted to comfort Lin Duxi, but the words stuck in her throat.

Wasn’t all this just her speculation? Mentioning An Yu in front of Lin Duxi wouldn’t help.

Yet Lin Duxi spoke, her usually calm eyes trembling slightly as they fixed on the still waters of the ancient well outside the window.

“That’s not right.”

Ji Qi asked, “What’s not right?”

Following Lin Duxi’s gaze, she saw nothing unusual outside—only the lush green branches contrasted with Lin Duxi’s lifeless appearance in the hospital, which made her glance away instinctively.

Lin Duxi shook her head, lowered her gaze to her pale, bloodless hands, and repeated,

“Too coincidental. All of it happened together, when it could have been avoided. I should have realized it sooner.”

Ji Qi was completely stunned by these words. After saying them, Lin Duxi fell silent. Once reserved with her words, now she spoke even less.

Ji Qi didn’t know what to say, so she reported on the arrangements: “The studio wants you to rest for a while. Your physical… condition isn’t great, so you should recover first.”

Knowing Lin Duxi likely wouldn’t respond or even listen, Ji Qi still had to speak—after all, Lin Duxi was her artist.

Unexpectedly, Lin Duxi looked up at her.

“No need. I know my body. Just let me work as usual.”

Her eyes were filled with absolute determination. Ji Qi could not persuade her and left the room in frustration.

Alone in the hospital room, Lin Duxi no longer looked outside. The lush greenery seemed as meaningless to her as black and white.

She closed her eyes, apparently trying to rest, yet her fevered, painful mind was clearer than ever.

When Ji Qi sent her to the hospital, Lin Duxi had thought she was reliving a fever from six years ago. Memories she had buried for almost six years resurfaced, and she gradually sensed something was wrong.

She had learned of An Yu’s parents’ death the year after their breakup. They had cut off all contact, and she thought An Yu had gone abroad.

The Lin family knew she had her sights on a particular university and would certainly come to her—but Lin Duxi, wanting to escape them entirely, secretly chose a top university.

She had assumed An Yu was overseas, with no further connection, until one day in her third year she saw An Yu’s modeling photo with the address below it. That’s when she realized An Yu hadn’t left, and in fact, had chosen the school she had recommended.

At that moment, Lin Duxi wanted to reconnect, but fearing An Yu’s rejection, she suppressed her feelings and applied to a celebrity agency, becoming an artist thanks to her exceptional looks.

All her acting and performances were just a way to get closer to An Yu. Even when filming at the same studio in Hengdian, she was satisfied just to see her.

Yet An Yu died, and the killer had no real reason—denying knowledge to the very end.

The temporary relief Lin Duxi felt quickly vanished; her obsession and darkness began consuming her.

A single fever made her revisit that summer six years ago, peeling open her heart and repeatedly reviewing painful memories. Each recollection revealed inconsistencies.

Soon, she immersed herself completely in work, more diligent than ever, almost like a machine.

Over the years, she collected numerous awards, becoming the youngest grand slam Best Actress, yet she continued working.

As a manager, Ji Qi was proud, but as a friend, she couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

Lin Duxi’s reckless work ethic seemed like she was exhausting her life for it.

Once, during a break, Lin Duxi was studying a script. Turning her head slightly, her brows furrowed, and blood dripped from her mouth.

She casually wiped it away, yet suddenly her mind flashed—a crack seemed to form in the surroundings. She stared at the bloodstain and laughed quietly.

In that moment of insight, she realized the so-called “protagonist’s luck” in her life and that her suffering had been “training.”

A voice appeared in her mind, fleeting and empty, yet audible:

“You are truly stubborn!”

Lin Duxi smiled. She had found a way.

Her work became even more intense, merging herself entirely with it. The outside world labeled her the “acting maniac.”

Ji Qi, attempting to advise her, once entered the room and saw Lin Duxi staring at her palms, blood-stained.

Ji Qi was stunned, but Lin Duxi had already turned to her, eyes burning with passion, obsession, and madness—truly terrifying.

A faint smile played on her lips, the red blood contrasting with her pale skin.

“I’m about to find her.”

Lin Duxi had gone mad.

Despite being forcibly hospitalized, it was too late. Her medical reports showed severe conditions, yet she was happy, having made a daring decision that was as risky as walking on thin ice.

She converted her life force into energy—every moment of weakness made “that person” stronger. The more she heard “that person” curse her, the more she knew her plan was correct.

“That person” floated above everyone, unknown and all-controlling. Lin Duxi and An Yu’s suffering had all been orchestrated by it, yet Lin Duxi had a deep connection with it.

She had strayed far from the path “it” intended.

Realizing that An Yu’s existence was key to everything, Lin Duxi began her plan.

She silently funneled her energy into “that person,” hiding herself. As expected, she could control the energy and remain hidden.

“It” was cautious, so she had to hide not just on the surface, but in its deeper mechanism—its “punishment mode.” “That person” had never entered this mode, giving her space to hide.

Moreover, if it later punished An Yu, she would still have room to protect her.

Lin Duxi was ecstatic, coughing up blood in delight.

An Yu… how long had it been since she dreamed of her? Lin Duxi couldn’t recall. The little sun who always smiled at her seemed distant, almost from another era.

Yet she didn’t want An Yu to enter her dreams.

Her dreams were too terrifying; she couldn’t bear for An Yu to be scared.

Even though forced to stop all work in the hospital, she continued coughing blood, growing weaker, yet happier each day.

Outside, the leaves turned green, then yellow, and finally fell, swept by the cold wind—desolate as a speck of dust.

On the day before the beginning of winter, Lin Duxi passed away in the hospital at only 28 years old.

Night enveloped all unknowns, while a few wisps of wind passed through the window cracks, brushing the curtains.

As consciousness slowly returned, the first sensation was the familiar desolation and pain.

Lin Duxi reached out, like she had many times before, for the photos in the bedside drawer—the only thing that anchored her in her confused mind.

Unexpectedly, her hand touched nothing. She turned, intending to continue moving.

In the next moment, an unfamiliar yet familiar touch pressed against her side. Instantly, she was lifted and enveloped in a warm embrace. A faint, familiar fragrance touched her nose.

Lin Duxi’s breathing froze, her body rigid.

Then, she heard a familiar hoarse voice, soothingly ruffling her hair, filled with the tone of comforting mischief:

“No need to shoot at noon. We can sleep a bit longer, okay, my dear?”

Sleepy. Time to rest.

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