After My Death, Everyone Repented (Transmigration) - Chapter 71.1

Xie Shaojun first met Chi Yi at the age of three an age where she knew absolutely nothing. Chi Yi, then five years old, picked her up from the cradle, poked her cheeks playfully, and Xie Shaojun responded by peeing on her chest.

Perhaps because of this fragrantly profound grudge formed in childhood, Xie Shaojun never really liked Chi Yi.

She felt that girls shouldn’t live as colorless as Chi Yi did.

Take test scores, for example. Chi Yi’s papers were always perfect no fluctuations, no ups and downs.

People like that were incredibly dull to be around and, along the path of growing up, inevitably became the benchmark against which other kids were measured and found lacking.

In summary, three-year-old Xie Shaojun disliked Chi Yi, and pre-adulthood Xie Shaojun felt the same.

If she had to define their childhood relationship, Xie Shaojun, not the brightest, would sum it up as: the mannequin from the villa next door, a plastic sisterhood forged through forced proximity.

Strip away that veneer, and even surface-level peace couldn’t be maintained.

At family gatherings, the most Xie Shaojun and Chi Yi ever did was clink glasses in passing a perfunctory greeting.

Of course, Xie Shaojun wasn’t entirely unreasonable. She was a young lady with principles.

She wouldn’t hold such a strong bias against someone without cause. Her strained relationship with Chi Yi was the result of multiple factors piling up over time.

The Xie and Chi families were neighbors with business ties. In terms of social standing, the Chi family had the upper hand. Xie Cheng, a sly old fox, noticed their children were close in age and hoped they’d become inseparable.

First, for networking. Second, childhood friendships like that would solidify into unbreakable bonds, the kind where you’d help each other through any crisis.

With this in mind, Xie Cheng arranged for Xie Shaojun to skip a grade, ensuring she and Chi Yi were tied together from kindergarten through middle school.

This made avoiding each other impossible.

Living next door, the families even shared resources, taking turns sending a single car to pick up the kids.

Xie Shaojun was playful and often lingered after school instead of heading home.

Once, when it was the Chi family’s turn to send the car, Xie Shaojun didn’t show up at the school gate on time. By the time she finished playing and finally wandered over, the car had already left.

That evening, she confronted Chi Yi, who didn’t even glance up from her homework before coolly retorting, “Why should I wait for you?”

Chi Yi was only eight at the time.

Her face, delicate as carved jade, already carried the sharp edges and icy detachment of an adult.

Without a trace of warmth, she fixed her gaze on six-year-old Xie Shaojun, making her disdain for troublemakers abundantly clear.

Xie Shaojun was furious, but at six, pride wasn’t exactly a priority.

From then on, she made a point of squeezing into Chi Yi’s car every single day. That was just her personality you hate sharing a ride with me? Fine, I’ll make sure you suffer my presence daily.

Let me show you the beauty of relentless pestering.

But Chi Yi was no pushover either. Even as a child, she knew how to scheme.

She presented an efficiency argument absurdly and somehow convinced Xie Cheng to agree.

From then on, Xie Shaojun and Chi Yi would leave school together, but to “avoid disrupting Chi Yi’s study time,” Xie Shaojun had to follow strict rules: arrive on time, no eating breakfast in the car, no dirtying her clothes, and most egregiously no growing out her hair.

That last rule was the final straw for young Xie Shaojun, whose natural curls and doll-like braids were her pride.

She stormed over to Chi Yi, who smirked and said coolly, “Can’t you tell? If you can’t handle it, quit while you’re ahead.”

However, when it came to the adults, Chi Yi gave a different reason: keeping long hair at a young age would damage the hair quality.

Chi Yi said, “I keep my hair short too. So we can hold hands more easily, why don’t you cut yours as well, little sister?”

Later, Feng Qianqian thought about it and decided the reasoning was sound. Xie Qingcheng’s hair had been kept too long as a child, and by high school, the stress of studying had caused noticeable hair loss.

Worried that her child might go bald early, Feng Qianqian gave Xie Shaojun a choppy, uneven haircut.

As a child, Chi Yi bullied Xie Shaojun in both obvious and subtle ways, this was just one of countless incidents.

Years later, when they were together, Xie Shaojun sat eating ice cream while Chi Yi reviewed lecture slides. Between bites, Xie Shaojun asked, “Why did you always bully me when we were kids?”

Chi Yi took the ice cream out of her hand, not letting her have another bite. After licking it once herself, she replied, “Maybe because you disliked me back then, and it was just a defensive reaction.”

“But I never bullied you. I was helping you develop good habits.”

“What about the haircut?”

“It definitely wasn’t what you think,” Chi Yi retorted immediately. But under Xie Shaojun’s persistent questioning, she finally admitted the truth:

“You used to wear braids as a kid, looking like a doll too pretty. Everyone wanted to be friends with you. I was just helping you weed out the admirers.”

“Oh. So you had a crush on me that early?”

Chi Yi fell silent, then shot Xie Shaojun a sidelong glance. “Fine, whatever you say.”

In Xie Shaojun’s second year of middle school, something major happened in Chi Yi’s family an incident with far-reaching consequences, affecting Chi Yi’s academic life and her dominant status at school.

Xie Shaojun wasn’t entirely clear on the details, but that year, many businesses were hit by a financial crisis. Chi Yi’s father was in real estate, and when the market crashed, the Chi family became a frequent subject on the news.

Whenever Xie Cheng turned on the TV, Xie Shaojun would catch glimpses of scrolling headlines about the Chi family’s broken capital chain and impending bankruptcy.

Chi Yi was in her third year of middle school then, Xie Shaojun in her second.

The school they attended was filled with wealthy heirs, and even among children, social circles were rigid.

Chi Yi had once been the center of attention, praised wherever she went. Though she lived like a flawless template, artificial yet undeniably more poised than naive rich kids like Xie Shaojun, she had been the epitome of a privileged elite.

But overnight, the golden girl fell from grace.

That afternoon at three, Xie Shaojun skipped class to sketch.

Their private school had a lotus pond. Xie Shaojun set up her easel, laid out her paints, and began to work. But she had barely made a few strokes when she saw Chi Yi walking toward the pond with a girl in a white dress.

After exchanging a few words, Chi Yi seemed ready to leave, until the girl in white suddenly closed her eyes and fell backward into the pond. Chi Yi didn’t lift a finger to help, her expression cold and devoid of sympathy.

The brush slipped from Xie Shaojun’s hand with a clatter. Chi Yi turned, meeting her gaze for a brief moment before walking away. It was Xie Shaojun who called for help.

The next day, rumors spread that Chi Yi had bullied a classmate.

Someone had taken photos images of the girl struggling in the pond, pleading for help, while Chi Yi stood by the edge, her icy stare far too detached for a teenager.

That evening, when Xie Shaojun left school, the Chi family’s car was nowhere to be seen.

Later, when Xie Cheng turned on the TV, the story of school bullying had made the evening news.

Xie Shaojun asked her father how this could have happened. Chi Yi was cold and lacked sympathy, but she hadn’t pushed that girl into the water.

The news reports painted Chi Yi as a privileged, ruthless rich kid who bullied others and treated human life as worthless, completely inconsistent with the truth.

Xie Cheng only sighed and patted Xie Shaojun’s head, saying, “Junjun, promise me you won’t ride in the same car as Chi Yi for a while, okay?”

Xie Shaojun was barely in her teens at the time. She agreed verbally but didn’t take it to heart.

She didn’t understand the pain of adults’ words, how “when the wall starts to crumble, everyone pushes” could manifest in a person. Nor did she grasp the impact this scandal had on the Chi family and Chi Yi amid the financial crisis.

A week later, Chi Yi returned to school. She had no friends left. One day, when Xie Shaojun went to buy orange soda, Chi Yi walked past her. A girl beside Xie Shaojun whispered,

“Stay away from Chi Yi from now on. She’s violent.”

Xie Shaojun thought it was nonsense, just a month ago, this same girl had been eager to use Xie Shaojun’s connections to get close to Chi Yi.

That summer, cicadas buzzed and birds chirped. The girl in the blue-and-white school uniform had already begun to take on the slender grace of a young woman, her demeanor cool and detached.

Stripped of her family’s prestige, surrounded by slander, Xie Shaojun still believed Chi Yi was the same as she had been at eight, like a flawless answer sheet.

Xie Shaojun glared at the girl beside her, pushed her arm away, and grabbed an extra lollipop from the convenience store.

She ran a short distance to catch up with Chi Yi. Without a word, she shoved the candy into Chi Yi’s hand.

Xie Shaojun thought that, in that moment, Chi Yi’s eyes held a trace of bitter despair. So, with her quick wit, she decided to counterbalance the bitterness in Chi Yi’s gaze with the sweetness of the candy.

Chi Yi accepted it.

She looked down at Xie Shaojun.

By middle school, Xie Shaojun had grown out her hair thick, natural curls in a shade of light brown. Her features had always been delicate, and under the sunlight, her fair skin glowed, a thin sheen of sweat tracing her cheeks. When she raised her arm, her school polo shirt rode up, revealing a glimpse of her slender waist.

Chi Yi flexed her fingers but didn’t lift them. She averted her gaze, irritation flickering as she asked, “What are you doing here?”

Xie Shaojun, still panting, said, “Chasing you.”

Chi Yi paused, lost in thought.

Her voice was cool as she delivered a cutting remark: “Didn’t your parents tell you not to hang around me?”

Xie Shaojun found it absurd they had never really “hung out” before.

But she also felt that the usually aloof Chi Yi seemed painfully human in that moment, her eyes lonely. Fortunately, this city had Xie Shaojun someone who held no grudges and was willing to overlook Chi Yi’s flaws.

Xie Shaojun grabbed Chi Yi’s hand and said, “They did.”

“But whether I like spending time with you is my business. Why should I listen to my parents?”

Chi Yi’s slender back curved slightly. She crouched down, her long legs folding, and met Xie Shaojun’s gaze for two full seconds.

Xie Shaojun thought Chi Yi might reach out and pinch her cheek, she had done so several times before. But Chi Yi only stared at her, silent, before walking away without another word.

In the latter half of their third year of middle school, the Chi family’s business faced severe division. Chi Yi’s father decided to venture into new industries.

Xie Cheng likely played a role in helping, investing in Chi Yi’s father’s company.

One day, Xie Shaojun overheard her father calling Chi Guangbo.

He said, “Lying low might be for the best. Since you’ve decided to do this, you might as well go all out.”

Then he asked, “What about Chi Yi? You and Liu Wan are going to Haicheng. So what happens to Chi Yi?”

In the latter half of Chi Yi’s third year of junior high, she faced rumors and stigma, like a meteor plummeting freely from the sky, landing at Xie Shaojun’s feet.

Perhaps Xie Shaojun was born with an abundance of empathy. Watching Chi Yi struggle alone in that wretched school after her parents left, her gaze would involuntarily drift toward Chi Yi.

Like when Chi Yi’s grades started slipping, or how long she had been absent from school.

When the high school entrance exams came in early June, Chi Yi didn’t show up. The school was requisitioned, so Xie Shaojun went to play an escape room with her friends. In the internet café next door, she saw Chi Yi wearing headphones, a cigarette dangling from her lips, living like some delinquent.

Xie Shaojun walked up to her, smashed an empty beer bottle beside Chi Yi’s left hand, and asked, “Are you still the Chi Yi I know?”

Chi Yi stubbed out her cigarette and met Xie Shaojun’s gaze coldly. The nearby attendant asked, “You know each other?”

Chi Yi replied, “No.”

Xie Shaojun, ever the bold one, lazily draped her leg over the back of the chair and told the attendant, “I’m her mom.”

“Who let you give a minor access to a computer?”

In the dim, grimy surroundings, Chi Yi, for some reason, laughed.

She said, “Kid.”

“Get lost.”

Just like when she was little and would hitch rides, Xie Shaojun hated being told what to do.

She dragged a chair over and sat beside Chi Yi. Chi Yi had no choice but to ignore her, though her fingers flew across the keyboard at an astonishing speed.

Xie Shaojun initially thought she was gaming, some internet-addicted girl, but a quick glance revealed lines of unfamiliar code on the screen.

When they stepped out of the internet café, the long street was swallowed by darkness, an endless stretch with no visible end.

Xie Shaojun trod on Chi Yi’s shadow and asked, “Why did you come here?”

Chi Yi turned her head. Expecting a lie or evasion, Xie Shaojun preemptively added, “You have a computer at home.”

“So why come here?”

Light flickered in Chi Yi’s eyes, still brimming with intense emotion. Teenage Xie Shaojun couldn’t decipher it, but it felt as bitter as coptis root. So at the next intersection, she dragged Chi Yi into a convenience store and bought her a lollipop, shoving it into her hand.

Chi Yi never told Xie Shaojun why she had gone to the internet café, but she took the lollipop.

As she returned alone to the empty, lifeless villa across the street, Chi Yi stood under the porch light, watching Xie Shaojun. For some reason, Xie Shaojun felt the night pressing down on her, suffocating.

She had planned to leave Chi Yi alone, convinced Chi Yi didn’t need her.

But the wind that night was stiflingly hot against her face. Xie Shaojun suddenly turned back, dashed across the street, and grabbed Chi Yi in front of the neighboring villa.

“Why are you letting yourself rot like this?”

“Just thought… maybe if I rot a little, someone might say something.”

Chi Yi said it like a joke, pulling out her phone empty text threads, sparse call logs. Xie Shaojun looked up, puzzled, as Chi Yi murmured,

“But no one did.”

Chi Yi’s face showed little disappointment, and Xie Shaojun’s heart softened. Despite the Xie family’s teaching that one shouldn’t rely on self-harm to gain others’ help, she couldn’t bring herself to say that to Chi Yi now. Instead, she softened her tone and asked, “Whose words do you want to hear? Tell me their name, and I’ll help you find them.”

Chi Yi replied indifferently, “Anyone’s words will do, as long as they’re human.”

“Ah?” Xie Shaojun was taken aback, then laughed in exasperation. “What do you want them to say?”

Chi Yi looked at her and remained silent for a long while. Just as Xie Shaojun thought she wouldn’t answer, Chi Yi suddenly grabbed her arm and called her name: “Xie Shaojun.”

Xie Shaojun nodded. “Hmm.”

“Say ‘Happy Birthday’ to me,” Chi Yi said, standing there with her legs slightly apart, exuding an air of cold detachment.

Xie Shaojun looked up, their eyes meeting. As she leaned closer, she suddenly felt the urge to hug Chi Yi but didn’t have the courage. Instead, she asked, “Should I get you a cake?”

“No need.”

“Alright then,” Xie Shaojun said. “Happy Birthday.”

“Don’t go to internet cafes anymore. In return, I’ll wish you Happy Birthday again.” Xie Shaojun felt Chi Yi stiffen slightly.

On that chilly night, Xie Shaojun repeated “Happy Birthday” to Chi Yi many times.

She said, “Don’t go to internet cafes. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t turn bad.”

“My dad says growing up is inevitably a lonely process.”

“But you’re Chi Yi.”

Xie Shaojun rambled on with life philosophies, then glanced up at Chi Yi, only to see her smile faintly and say, “When you came in, I’d just taken one puff and realized it wasn’t for me, so I was about to put it out.”

Seeing is believing, but Xie Shaojun didn’t trust Chi Yi. “What about the alcohol?”

Chi Yi sighed. “It belonged to the guy with the yellow hair next door. You smashed his bottle, didn’t you see him glaring at you earlier?”

Xie Shaojun felt embarrassed but pressed on stubbornly. “Even so, you still went to the internet cafe.”

Chi Yi sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Xie Shaojun on the doorstep outside the villa and admitted she had gone to the internet cafe, but only because the villa had lost power that day. With no adults at home and her parents not answering her calls, she didn’t want to stay in the empty house, so she went to a nearby internet cafe instead.