After Redeeming the Female Lead, I Faked My Death and Escaped - Chapter 39.1

“Gone.”

Ying Xu unconsciously repeated those two words.

Assistant Lu’s voice trembled with tears: “The car was taken by Qingzhu, and all the messages are unread and unanswered.”

A note of gravity crept into Ying Xu’s tone: “What about the Gu family? Is there any way to contact Gu Qingzhu?”

Assistant Lu hesitated: “Ying-jie, didn’t you know?”

She cautiously explained, and for the first time, Ying Xu learned that the Gu family would never heed the arrangements or pleas of anyone or anything other than Gu Qingzhu herself. To outsiders, this was a sign of Gu Qingzhu’s iron grip on power. But to Ying Xu, it seemed more like a reflection of the Gu family’s indifference.

Though she knew full well that, given Gu Qingzhu’s personality, she had no need for hollow familial affection, Ying Xu still froze for a moment.

“Can’t reach her through comms either?” She quickly snapped back to reality, thinking of another possibility.

It was just an offhand question, but Assistant Lu hesitated for several seconds.

“Sister Shan once said that Qingzhu hates being contacted through anything other than messages,” the beta whispered. “I don’t dare call her.”

In other words, no contact had been made.

Only then did Ying Xu recall that every time they had spoken before, it had been Gu Qingzhu reaching out to her through someone else’s device.

“Even if she’s missing?” she pressed Assistant Lu again.

Silence was answer enough.

Anything that Shan Qiaoyun explicitly labeled as taboo was undoubtedly serious.

Ying Xu wasn’t sure how many “taboos” Gu Qingzhu actually had. Animals were taboo, hospitals were taboo, and unsolicited calls were taboo. The first two had plausible explanations, but why fear the sound of a ringing phone?

The situation seemed to have reached a deadlock.

But soon, Assistant Lu had no more time to worry about it, Gu Qingzhu’s name was exploding across the star-net, and brands, unable to reach Qinghong, had started contacting her instead.

The call ended, and the car fell back into silence.

Ying Xu scrolled through the unresponsive chat interface and suddenly realized she couldn’t begin to guess where Gu Qingzhu might have gone.

The omega had no close friends, no trusted “safe haven.” To her, any place was just a temporary stop.

Having lived in this world for over twenty years, the people and things she was connected to were fewer than Ying Xu’s own.

Pity is the beginning of love. Ying Xu remained silent until her eyes landed on Wei Siyan’s contact.

She wasn’t sure about Gu Qingzhu’s current state, but reaching out to Wei Siyan would be the safest and fastest solution.

However, contacting her would mean officially tying herself to the Xu family.

With Sheng Changming’s precedent fresh in her mind, Ying Xu couldn’t help but feel wary of “aristocratic families.”

She didn’t want to owe anyone, nor did she want to become the next fish waiting for a desperate struggle.

…But whether she became the fish or not, none of it mattered as much as Gu Qingzhu’s safety right now.

Just as her finger was about to tap the call button, the car’s navigation screen suddenly lit up. Code automatically input an address, followed by a cold, mechanical voice:

【This is Gu Qingzhu’s current location.】

Bathed in the screen’s blue glow, Ying Xu didn’t hesitate, swiping to expand the map.

The route led to a remote path, ending at a cemetery.

What would Gu Qingzhu be doing at a cemetery at this hour?

In the video, right up until the moment she threw the cat, Gu Qingzhu had seemed perfectly composed.

Then Ying Xu remembered the nearly empty glass of alcohol in the omega’s hand when she had entered the room.

She took a deep breath and, without another moment’s hesitation, started the car.

At this moment, Xu Ying’s heart held only Gu Qingzhu, even forgetting to question the system’s sudden benevolence.

The car sped down the highway toward the distance.

Under the dim yellow lights, everything seemed frozen in time.

It wasn’t until the screech of brakes erupted, splashing mud and water everywhere, that the near-dead silence was shattered.

The sharp blare of a horn pierced her ears. Gu Qingzhu’s head had been aching for a while now, the alcohol had long evaporated the moment she saw that cat. She was in an unusual state.

But the more sober she became, the more nauseous she felt.

A violent urge to vomit surged up her throat again. Yet, before even getting into the car, her body had already forced her to empty her stomach. Now, all that spilled out were the torn tissues of her lips and traces of blood.

Her trembling hands, resting on the steering wheel, looked almost translucent under the light. Gu Qingzhu pressed her fingertips to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut in pain, trying to ease the torment.

But her mind felt as though it had been split open by something sharp, churning her thoughts into chaos, leaving her without a moment’s peace.

Outside the window, the world was empty. The sky resembled an overturned palette, its colors muddled by the rain into a filthy shade of blue.

Gu Qingzhu couldn’t remember how she had fallen asleep. Perhaps her mind had been too exhausted, pushed to the brink of collapse. Or perhaps she had finally found some sharp object, letting herself bleed out until she had no choice but to lose consciousness.

All she knew was that when she opened her eyes again, she had been dragged into a dream.

A desolate wilderness stretched before her, with nothing but endless waves of wheat and withered grass swaying in the wind. The sky and earth blurred into one. Gu Qingzhu’s body ran endlessly, as if pursued by some unseen terror. But when she turned to look, there was nothing behind her not even her own shadow.

Ahead, the whistle of a train sounded. Gu Qingzhu jerked her head up, but it was already too late to dodge.

She wasn’t granted the mercy of “flying.”

Just like that cat, she was effortlessly crushed beneath the wheels, only far more gruesome. Blood gushed out, dispersing like mist across the platform.

Her soul floated above the train, watching as the cat slowly approached her corpse. Its white paws, now stained red, let out a soft meow beside her ear.

Accompanying that faint sound was a gentle, lingering melody.

It had once been Gu Qingzhu’s favorite piece of music for a particularly “shallow” reason. Xu Ying liked it, so she had grown infatuated with it too.

She had never questioned why. It was only natural to love everything the other person cherished. But Gu Qingzhu knew the reason, because she loved Xu Ying, and even more, she loved the past they had shared.

Those had been the easiest years of Gu Qingzhu’s life, a time she could look back on with warmth and comfort, no matter when.

But now, as she relived that moment, she could no longer deceive herself into associating it with the word “happiness.”

Her joy had been built upon a corpse.

And in this moment, Gu Qingzhu couldn’t tell whether that corpse belonged to the cat or herself.

The car window was cracked open slightly, letting in the rain, which had long soaked a patch of Gu Qingzhu’s clothes. The woman was clearly freezing, yet she seemed oblivious, mechanically repeating the motions of dry heaving.

Her eyes were blurred, brimming with endless tears, like a drowned fish on the verge of suffocating in this cramped space.

Outside the car, an alpha stood silently, watching it all unfold.

In Xu Ying’s eyes, Gu Qingzhu treated “life” with extreme indifference, even to the point of being cold-blooded. It was this excessive ruthlessness that allowed her to disdain life so recklessly.

This belief was so deeply ingrained that all the changes in Gu Qingzhu after her hospital discharge were also attributed by Xu Ying to the aftermath of “fear.”

Because she had experienced it firsthand, Gu Qingzhu no longer dared to be so arrogant and even felt a twinge of guilt over it.

It wasn’t until this moment that Xu Ying realized it might not have been arrogance at all, but rather something taken for granted.

Because the omega had attempted “death” too many times, she had long assumed everyone else was as numb to it as she was.

When the soft “knock knock” sounded, Gu Qingzhu didn’t react.

She even thought it was an auditory hallucination, only realizing after a long while that it was a persistent, rhythmic sound.

Like a precursor to some awakening, Gu Qingzhu then noticed that the ringing had stopped at some point. But the screen was still lit, and she could clearly see the text on it not an incoming call, not the name she feared.

Just two simple words: Xu Ying.

Gu Qingzhu finally remembered that this was an alarm she had set casually after the alpha left. The purpose, it seemed, was to remind herself not to lose track of time.

Not to forget that someone was still waiting for her.

Gu Qingzhu remained silent, like a coma patient slowly regaining consciousness and reconnecting with their body.

The car window was knocked on again at that moment.

Gu Qingzhu still didn’t respond.

Until the alpha spoke.

“Qingzhu.”

Just two words, yet they sent Gu Qingzhu’s blood running cold, leaving her stunned on the spot. It took her a while before she could lift her gaze.

Xu Ying stood outside the window, holding an umbrella. Her figure was hazy, the blue ink-like glow behind her casting onto the umbrella, resembling an ocean brimming with moonlight and shimmering waves.

Gu Qingzhu couldn’t make out the alpha’s expression, nor did she want to.

She instinctively turned her head away, unwilling to expose her vulnerable side to Xu Ying.

Yet the other woman gave her no chance to evade, speaking in a voice so soft it felt like a cloud gently brushing against Gu Qingzhu.

“Let’s go home.”

She saw the smile on the woman’s lips.

And so, even in her dreams, Gu Qingzhu’s vision was filled with that familiar face smiling back at her.

During their school days, Xu Ying had been outgoing, talkative, modest, and polite. Her superior background and academic performance made her a standout figure from the moment she enrolled.

In contrast, Gu Qingzhu was cold and withdrawn. She rarely interacted with her peers, having grown up alone since childhood. Though she couldn’t decipher the meanings behind others’ glances, she could tell she was being ostracized by the group.

Even though she prided herself on not needing their attention, she couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss.

On a midsummer night’s evening class, the world outside the window was a canvas of vibrant blue.

Amid the noisy, bustling environment, Gu Qingzhu sat alone in the last row, wearing headphones and reading a book.

After flipping just two pages, she grew impatient, her thoughts involuntarily drifting to the conversations around her. They talked about vacation spots, newly released games, and their crushes.

Gu Qingzhu couldn’t contribute to any of these topics, leaving her sullen and bored. She turned another page but had no desire to continue reading. Just as she coldly closed the book, ready to head home, the warmth of a cup touched her cheek.

Startled, she looked to her side. A beta had casually picked up the other earpiece and put it on, placing a cup of warm milk beside her hand before flashing her a smile.