After My Death, Everyone Repented (Transmigration) - Chapter 23

Xie Shaojun’s self-introduction would have been fine, but the moment her greeting landed, Secretary Wang and two other executives in the crowd instantly turned pale.

Everyone was visibly shaken, even forgetting to make way for Chi Yi.

Xie Shaojun found it somewhat amusing. “Is there a problem?”

She had to ask twice before Secretary Wang snapped out of her daze from the shock Xie Shaojun had delivered.

Secretary Wang scrutinized Xie Shaojun repeatedly, her gaze lingering on Xie Shaojun’s calves. Xie Shaojun was wearing long pants today, so nothing was visible.

However, this close and impolite inspection allowed Secretary Wang to see clearly only the puppy-dog eyes were somewhat similar. The rest of Xie Shaojun’s features were far more striking. True beauty lies in the bones, not the skin. She belonged to the radiant and enchanting type.

Finally regaining her composure, Secretary Wang stiffly said to Xie Shaojun, “Sorry, you look just like… an old acquaintance.”

Xie Shaojun pulled out her ID card, playing along to lighten the mood. “No matchmaking, please.”

Then her puppy-dog eyes curved into a smile. Her features were vivid, and when she smiled, it made hearts skip a beat.

Secretary Wang froze in place but was soon tugged back by an executive behind her.

As Secretary Wang stepped aside, Xie Shaojun’s field of vision widened.

She saw Chi Yi at the back of the crowd, and the smile on her lips vanished.

Below the car, Chi Yi was also looking at her.

This woman, whose every strand of hair exuded refinement, wore a silk sleeveless blouse paired with smoke-gray wide-leg pants. Her excessively thick, long black hair cascaded down her back. Her peach-blossom eyes, catching the light, narrowed slightly as she studied Xie Shaojun, her pupils dilating just a fraction, though this subtle change was barely noticeable, as a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose obscured most of her expression.

The airport was crowded, and many eyes lingered on Chi Yi.

But Chi Yi was looking at Xie Shaojun.

Five meters separated the car from the ground. Chi Yi approached, stopping just outside the vehicle.

Polite and measured, she stood rooted in place, her lashes fluttering faintly. “May I come up?”

She called out to her, her voice soft: “Xie Shaojun.”

Xie Shaojun’s mind buzzed. She recognized Chi Yi.

In the lifetime Xie Shaojun had spent playing the role of “Xie Shaojun,” Chi Yi’s voice had often suffocated her, leaving her breathless. Yet at the same time, that same voice had filled the years when Xie Shaojun stood against the world.

Whenever Chi Yi uttered the name “Xie Shaojun,” the next words were always “you should,” “you must,” or “you will…” phrases that pushed her to become better. Most of the time, Xie Shaojun found it utterly exhausting. Yet every time she heard it, she couldn’t help but look into Chi Yi’s eyes.

Chi Yi’s peach-blossom eyes were beautiful, especially when they curved, dotted with bright, shimmering light.

Those eyes would glow with satisfaction when Xie Shaojun heeded her words and improved, but they would also droop with disappointment when Xie Shaojun misbehaved, making her want, more often than not, to be a better person rather than a villainess.

For the past two years, Chi Yi hadn’t existed in Xie Shaojun’s world. She had forgotten her.

Now that Xie Shaojun had returned to her original body, she realized that even as Xie Haoyun, she might never again be able to make Chi Yi’s eyes shine.

Because her temper wasn’t exactly good. If someone hit her, she’d strike back without hesitation.

If someone angered her, she wouldn’t bother with pleasantries.

From a young age, Xie Cheng taught his three daughters that the girls of the Xie family didn’t need to endure humiliation for anyone, nor did they need to change their personalities. The best choice was always the one that made them happy in the moment.

Over the past two years, without Chi Yi, without the Xie family, and without the memories of role-playing missions, Xie Shaoyun had lived completely unfettered.

She carried no heavy burdens, just an ordinary wealthy heiress who woke up after a car accident, occasionally troubled by a lack of inspiration, aside from the lingering effects of her soul displacement.

She had basked in the glory of being the center of attention and had also faded into silence when inspiration ran dry. Yet none of this ever made her feel the slightest bit of panic.

When she wanted to see the ocean, she went freely and impulsively.

When she wanted to raise dolphins, she pulled strings to work as a caretaker in a foreign land.

Xie Shaoyun had many skills and a plethora of eclectic interests. What she learned depended entirely on what she was passionate about at any given stage.

Because she had parents to fall back on above her and two outstanding older sisters to catch her below.

Xie Qingcheng and Xie Zangxing loved to chat with her endlessly over the phone. Xie Shaoyun usually found it tiresome, but she always picked up, engaging in thoughtless banter with them. Last New Year, when Xie Zangxing shamelessly asked their parents for red envelope money, Xie Shaoyun also reached out and said to Xie Cheng, “Dad, I’m broke.”

For the past two years, Xie Shaoyun could tell anyone that her life was happy, fearless, and unrestrained. The little quirks and edges of her personality could safely bask in the sunlight.

But now, reunited with Chi Yi, with her memories flooding back, Xie Shaoyun resented her.

She didn’t want to see her again.

She didn’t immediately wonder where the system was, nor did she question why a target from her transmigration missions had appeared in her world.

Her mind was blank, observing only from the perspective of a stranger.

Chi Yi’s features hadn’t aged. Two years later, she seemed even more adept at dressing, her professional suit exuding an elegant, restrained femininity. Her glasses were likely a new pair, the chain design dangling by her cheeks.

Her complexion remained that same sickly pale, untouched by sunlight. Even under the scorching 37-degree heat of Sri Lanka, not a single drop of sweat glistened on her forehead.

Clean, composed, and seemingly more poised and gentle than two years ago reliable and docile.

Though she knew it was all a facade, Xie Shaoyun still spared her a few extra glances.

Then, meeting Chi Yi’s slightly vacant, unfocused gaze, Xie Shaoyun felt no urge to soften this time.

She coolly averted her eyes.

“If you don’t speak, I’ll take it as your agreement.”

Five seconds later, the seat beside her dipped.

Chi Yi naturally settled next to Xie Shaoyun. She seemed to enjoy calling her name.

“Xie Shaoyun,” she called, repeating it twice.

“Xie Shaoyun.”

Xie Shaoyun had no choice but to look up, watching as Chi Yi’s lips parted, speaking slowly, “I thought you weren’t coming today.”

“So you did come after all.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Chi Yi’s lips childlike, as she tilted her head slightly, studying Xie Shaoyun’s profile. Perhaps seeing someone else in Xie Shaoyun’s face, the curve of her lips faded, and she continued staring blankly for a long while.

Unconsciously, the documents in her hand crumpled at the edges, the corners nearly crushed to shreds under her grip.

Xie Shaoyun couldn’t help but glance pointedly at them, reminding her silently you’re ruining the contract.

Chi Yi nodded, released the corner of the item, and thanked her with a calm expression.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Chi Yi asked. “What are you thinking about?”

The past wasn’t a pleasant memory, and Xie Shaojun wasn’t sure what there was to say to her.

A reunion was even more out of the question.

On the day she died, she had decided she would never want them again.

For others, reunions were a pleasant surprise, but for Xie Shaojun, there was only surprise no pleasure.

When Chi Yi called her name again, Xie Shaojun gave a faint “Mm” in response.

She looked up. Chi Yi’s expression was too composed. In the minute since seeing Xie Shaojun, her words and actions had been far more normal than those of Secretary Wang and the two employees behind her, who had reacted with shock.

She didn’t even seem the slightest bit curious about the uncanny resemblance between Xie Shaojun’s appearance and name and those of her late wife.

Xie Shaojun suspected Chi Yi had recognized her.

Frowning, she didn’t answer Chi Yi’s question. Instead, she feigned ignorance and asked, “Have we met before?”

Chi Yi stared into Xie Shaojun’s eyes and nodded, though she seemed unaccustomed to such close eye contact and soon averted her gaze.

Then she lowered the tray in front of the car seat, propped it between her legs, and arranged the documents from her briefcase on it.

This time, Chi Yi didn’t look at Xie Shaojun. Instead, she flipped through a page of the file, scanning the dense, tadpole-like rows of data, and said to Xie Shaojun, “Mm.”

“We met yesterday.”

“The voice in the skull necklace was yours. You told me last night.”

Three sentences, each spoken clearly, logically, and in an even tone.

There was no trace of struggle in her words, a stark contrast to the Chi Yi who had repeatedly confirmed on the phone whether Xie Shaojun was the one in the skull necklace.

Xie Shaojun suddenly understood. She withdrew her gaze indifferently, no longer bothering to observe Chi Yi’s reaction.

Leaning back against the seat, she rubbed her aching temples and slowly called out to the system in her mind:

[Are you still alive?]

“You finally remembered.” The system’s voice sounded weak in her head.

“Your soul was too fragile before. I couldn’t reach you.”

“What’s the situation now?”

“In the last world, you didn’t complete the mission.”

Xie Shaojun lifted her eyelids slightly. A cup of coffee appeared beside her bought earlier by Chi Yi’s assistant.

“The driver got one too. Everyone did,” Chi Yi said. “Do you want me to put a straw in it for you?”

Xie Shaojun shook her head, showing no interest in conversation. Chi Yi opened her mouth but ultimately said nothing.

Meanwhile, Xie Shaojun was full of questions for the system:

“What do you mean?”

In the last world, even though Xie Shaojun had deviated from her character, she had still completed the plot. The system had said that as long as she finished the main storyline, even if she broke character midway, it wouldn’t affect the villainess’s ending her mission would still count as completed.

“I don’t know either,” the system replied weakly, its mechanical voice faint. “After you died, you were judged as having failed the mission.”

“Failed? But I wasn’t destroyed.”

“Right. For some reason, your life is now bound to Chi Yi’s. If your existence were erased, Chi Yi would die too. So the main system didn’t reset you. But at the same time, you didn’t receive any mission rewards to repair your soul. Your soul is extremely fragile now. After entering Xie Haoyun’s body, you’ll frequently experience soul displacement. If this continues, Host, you’re in danger you could die.”

The system felt somewhat saddened, powerless in this situation, and even unsure why Xie Shaoyun’s life had become bound to Chi Yi’s.

It told Xie Shaoyun that it could only stay online for three more minutes to relay something very important.

Xie Shaoyun was still processing the information she had just received and responded with a quiet, “Go ahead.”

“Do you remember when I mentioned before that when the main CP of a dimension collapses, the world’s rules would self-correct through cause and effect? But now, that correction isn’t happening. After your death, everyone was consumed by regret. In this dimension, Chi Yi can no longer be with Jian Qing. Worse, she has lost the will to live, she plans to sell Haimi Tech to the Frenchman Laurent before ending her life.”

Haimi Tech had been researching cutting-edge lithography machine technology in recent years. If this technology fell into the hands of the French, they would exploit their technical advantage to wage a trade war.

The entire world would be thrown into chaos because of it, ultimately leading to the collapse of the dimension.

The system projected scenes of the dimension’s destruction five years later for Xie Shaoyun to see.

After watching, she fell silent for a moment, finding the whole thing utterly absurd.

So, Chi Yi wasn’t pretending she really was suicidal. But… why?

Xie Shaoyun couldn’t help but glance at Chi Yi, who was working diligently on a report. She couldn’t detect anything unusual about her, except for the fact that Chi Yi had been staring at the same contract page for three minutes without turning it an uncharacteristically low efficiency for someone who usually operated like a highly advanced human.

Xie Shaoyun averted her gaze, lowering her heavy-lidded eyes, and asked the system in her mind, “What do you want me to do?”

The system explained that the root of this catastrophic chain reaction was Chi Yi’s unwillingness to live.

As the world’s protagonist blessed with great fortune, the entire dimension revolved around her achieving success and familial happiness. If she couldn’t attain fulfillment, the world would crumble.

“You can’t let her die,” the system said. “If possible, I hope you can help Chi Yi achieve emotional fulfillment.”

Xie Shaoyun refused without hesitation. “Impossible.”

The system sighed. “I know this is asking too much of you. But Chi Yi has developed an autonomous consciousness that resists the world’s rules. No one can change her mind now. At this point… I think only you might be able to.”

Xie Shaoyun pressed, “And if I refuse?”

“Then we can only wait for the dimension to collapse. Originally, after you broke character, you were supposed to die outright. But perhaps because of your connection to Chi Yi, your lives are bound together. If you want to escape your weakened soul state, you’ll also need to uncover the reason from Chi Yi.” The system sounded exhausted. “Host, I have to log off now.”

The system vanished abruptly, leaving Xie Shaoyun unable to summon its interface as freely as before.

Honestly, if she had a choice, Xie Shaoyun would jump out of the car right now.

She wanted nothing more to do with Chi Yi, nor did she ever want to see certain people again.

But…

The foul-mouthed system had never lied to her. It had been good to her, helping her pull off countless reckless acts.

The apocalyptic vision she had just seen was of the real dimension where her original family existed a world that, in five years, would face collapsing buildings, seawater flooding inland, volcanic eruptions…

This forced Xie Shaoyun to look at Chi Yi again.

A trace of peculiar anxiety flickered across Chi Yi’s pale face. Restless, she switched the pen to her other hand but still avoided Xie Shaoyun’s gaze, keeping her eyes fixed on the report as she said, “You’ve been staring at me for a long time today.”

“Can you look a little less? Save the rest for tomorrow.”

Chi Yi felt this illusion was too real. Every extra glance might mean one less in the future, so she wanted to ration her viewing.