After Dumping the Female Lead, It's My Turn to Cry - Chapter 4

The coppery, sweet scent lingered in her nostrils. Ruan Yubai stood expressionless, bracing herself against the sink as she locked eyes with the pale girl in the mirror.

Her originally soft, rosy lips were now dotted with a crimson bead that slowly melted into a vivid, glaring red. As it trickled to the corner of her mouth, it hovered precariously before finally mingling with the running water, fading into a faint, dripping begonia hue.

Meanwhile, the novel in her pocket seemed to revel in schadenfreude, spinning and floating up with an almost taunting expression written all over its pages as they fluttered wildly in the air.

Ruan Yubai closed her eyes.

A dull ache still lingered in her stomach, her throat burned fiercely, and even her disheveled strands of hair seemed to warn her: the will of the world’s creator must not be defied!

Having read at least a thousand novels, Ruan Yubai understood all too well how things had come to this.

Wanting to break free from the script and live her own life? That was nothing but a pipe dream! Ruan Yubai had to follow the plot to survive. Today’s episode of vomiting blood was just a small warning, if she continued to disobey, it might not be just a mouthful of blood next time.

This thought swirled in her mind, gradually solidifying. Yet, perhaps due to the overwhelming stress of the day, instead of fear, a scornful smirk tugged at her lips. She murmured softly, as if to no one in particular, “The female lead’s family dies, and she spits blood. The male lead forces his mark on her for the first time, and she punches him in the stomach, vomiting blood. Even I, a cannon-fodder supporting character, have to cough up blood before dying for love. Does the author know any other tricks besides this one?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a searing pain flared in her stomach. She felt a suffocating discomfort, and then—another mouthful of fresh blood was coughed up!

Leaning heavily on the sink, she took several deep breaths. Her contemptuous smile only deepened. Forcing down her rising anger, she willed herself to calm, steadying her ragged breaths before snatching the tattered, still-fluttering book from the air.

Page by page, she tore it apart with deliberate slowness, until shredded strips littered the counter. Gathering them into a crumpled ball, she tossed it all into the still-flushing toilet and pressed the handle without hesitation.

Who did it think it was scaring? If she could tolerate this, then she wasn’t the tough, unyielding Beta she prided herself on being!

When the bathroom door swung open again, the girl who emerged was clean-faced and wore a sweet smile. Apart from being a few shades paler, there was no trace of anything unusual. Meeting Qing Ling’s dark, penetrating eyes, Ruan Yubai scratched her head and explained, “Sorry, I saw the toilet and couldn’t resist the urge to sing along with its rhythmic flush. I ended up belting out a bit of ‘Pikachu.’”

Being this mischievous made her quite happy.

Qing Ling, of course, saw right through her nonsense but didn’t call her out. Instead, she asked gently, “I haven’t heard of that song. What are the lyrics?”

Ruan Yubai widened her eyes and began fabricating on the spot: “It’s about how an electric mouse should do a standing long jump.”

“Oh,” Qing Ling’s lips curved slightly. “Then sing a couple of lines?”

Ruan Yubai: …

She had made it up, how was she supposed to know how it went?

Yet, under the female lead’s cool, penetrating gaze, Ruan Yubai swallowed hard and gave up resisting.

After a brief silence, her wildly off-key, distorted singing voice echoed, straying miles off tune.

“The mountain path here winds eighteen bends, the Pikachu here needs to jump far.”

“Let’s learn to jump far together, together pi-pi-pi-pi-pi.”

“Pika ping, pika pang, pika ping, pika pang, pika-chu-chu-chu-chu-chu-chu-chu-chu-chu.”

It was enough to make a composer weep and Ash Ketchum’s heart break.

Qing Ling’s thin lips curved upward in a smile that hardly faded. After the singing ended, she leisurely clapped a few times and praised, “Not bad at all.”

The mockery in her words was so palpable it didn’t require a closer look to detect.

Ruan Yubai was furious.

What noble, aloof, perfect female lead? That was all nonsense! And who was all this because of?

Ruan Yubai gritted her teeth in anger, her chest heaving with rage. The decorative penguin wings on her nightgown even began to sway back and forth.

As if suddenly remembering something, Ruan Yubai said expressionlessly, “Oh, I forgot to give you your clothes.”

Then she twisted open the bathroom door, deliberately picked up a stack of brand-new, unwrapped clothes from the laundry counter, waved them in front of Qing Ling, and with a “smack,” let go. The new clothes accurately fell into the trash can. “Sorry, Pikachu ran out of power mid-jump.”

This was utterly childish. Far from being angry, Qing Ling was now laughing so hard tears nearly streamed from her eyes.

Seeing Qing Ling’s leisurely, unhurried demeanor only fueled Ruan Yubai’s anger. With a click, she turned off the hallway light and said sarcastically, “For the sake of the next generation of penguins, for the future of polar bears, for the tomorrow of flowers and grass, we should save as much electricity as possible. What do you think, Ms. Qing?”

This was Ruan Yubai’s personal habit, she addressed anyone she disliked as “Ms.”

Like her own mother.

And like the female lead, Qing Ling.

In the dim darkness, Qing Ling mused thoughtfully, “Not bad.”

She added, “That way, Pikachu can recharge its power too.”

Ahh, damn your Pikachu!

Now Ruan Yubai genuinely regretted it. Why had she torn up that annoying, melodramatic novel earlier? The person she should have torn apart was the female lead!

The darkened hallway was pitch black, illuminated only by the small flashlight in Ruan Yubai’s hand, casting a faint, warm glow. The deep night seeped like flowing water into every unseen corner.

It had the effect of a horror movie. Even Ruan Yubai herself was spooked by the scene, breaking out in goosebumps.

As they neared the bedroom, Ruan Yubai took out the bedroom key. Spotting the painting frame opposite, an idea suddenly struck her. She cleared her throat and said, “Oh, by the way, Ms. Qing, I forgot to mention, you must close the bedroom door tightly at night.”

She shone the flashlight on the medieval-style oil painting behind her. The painting originally depicted a warm, golden scene: a arched bridge curved over lush greenery, a woman with flowing golden hair stood with her back to a fruit stall, cradling a snow-white cat in her arms. The composition was exquisitely detailed.

But under the flashlight’s beam, both the woman and the cat took on a sinister hue. Even the fresh, sweet fruits seemed to rot into foul-smelling pulp. Where the white light hit, it grew hazy, as if a few maggots had begun to writhe.

Ruan Yubai shivered, her own fear palpable, yet she was here trying to scare someone else. “Do you know why?” she asked.

She didn’t wait for Qing Ling to answer, continuing on her own, “My dad probably told you too, this house was built on what used to be a marketplace, with lots of fruit stalls. There’s a legend about a woman who used to come every day, holding her cat and sniffing the fresh fruit. The fruit stalls are long gone, but the woman still keeps her habit. So every night, she reappears. But since there are no fruit stalls, she turns around resentfully…”

Her trembling voice echoed through the cramped corridor. Unaware that her words were already quivering, she went on, “So when you go out at night, you absolutely must not look at the portraits. But that’s not the worst part. The most important thing is that the cat in her arms, every night, it turns into a black.”

Ruan Yubai admired her own imagination. She felt she had a real talent for telling horror stories after all, she’d managed to scare even herself. Just as she swallowed and prepared to continue, Qing Ling suddenly spoke up, “Is it a black cat with a little bell around its neck?”

Blinking foolishly, Ruan Yubai instinctively asked, “How did you know?” She hadn’t even finished making it up yet.

“Because isn’t that cat standing right behind you?”

Aowu!

Ruan Yubai froze for a moment, then every hair on her body stood on end. She was about to scold Qing Ling for talking nonsense when a clear, tinkling bell sound came from behind her.

Since she was facing Qing Ling, she was now too terrified to even turn around. Her neck felt like a rusty, unoiled machine that would creak and groan with the slightest movement.

“Y-you’re lying!” The waver in her voice betrayed her fear. Ruan Yubai had once heard that imagination was a powerful thing—if you visualized something precisely enough and believed in it devoutly, it could become real.

Since when did she have such an ability? When she was studying for her history exam, her longing for Doraemon’s memory bread had been just as sincere—why hadn’t that come true then?

“It’s already here.”

Almost as soon as those calm words fell, something soft and furry brushed against the delicate skin of her exposed ankle.

Ruan Yubai could no longer contain her terror. Acting purely on instinct, she let out a sharp cry and threw herself at Qing Ling. All the weakness, fear, and anger she had suppressed throughout the day burst forth, her screams tinged with sobs. “Get it away from me! Wuwu, don’t let it come near!”

“It’s fine, it’s just an ordinary cat,” Qing Ling reassured her, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

Watching as Qing Ling seemed about to crouch down and pet the cat, Ruan Yubai completely broke down. So this was what it took to be a female lead, definitely not for everyone!

She clung tightly to the girl’s neck, having long forgotten her earlier vow of “I’d rather dream than hug the female lead.” She practically tried to embed herself into the faint, overflowing scent of freesia in Qing Ling’s embrace, wailing uncontrollably, “You jerk! Don’t touch it, isn’t touching me enough?”

How perverted! What kind of outrageous talk was that?

Compared to Ruan Yubai’s soft, lazy-girl physique, Qing Ling’s body was more toned and graceful. She appeared slender and delicate, but every inch of her muscles held a refined strength.

In other words, it felt incredibly reassuring.

Ruan Yubai was a tearful, snotty mess, all thoughts of revenge completely forgotten. Clinging to her as if she were a savior, she cried so hard her voice grew nasal and her whole demeanor turned utterly pitiful even the “Dou Dou” penguin from the “Eat, Sleep, Beat Dou Dou” meme would have flapped its wings in disdain at the sight.

Yet this utterly harmless, soft, berry-scented bundle suddenly made Qing Ling freeze.

From birth, Qing Ling had been raised under the strictest education. She carried the heavy expectations of her family, but precisely because of this, her elders were severe with her, and other juniors regarded her with a mix of respect and fear. No one dared to get close to her this was the first time she had ever been in such intimate proximity to another person.

Of course, that alone wasn’t enough to make her freeze. The more critical issue was,

Qing Ling’s tone was flat: “Miss Ruan, you’re pressing on my scent gland.”

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