Did the Tsundere Miss Get Slapped in the Face Again Today? - Chapter 69

Chapter 69: “She’ll Be Fine.”

A news headline suddenly flashed across the phone screen.

“Early this morning, a fire broke out in the Xingchen Villa District. The fire was sudden and massive, with flames lighting up the sky. Firefighters arrived at the scene immediately. The cause of the fire is currently unknown.”

“According to sources, the property owner of the villa is the Lin Group. As of now, exact casualty information has not been verified…”

Xingchen Villa District, a property of the Lin Group—wasn’t that the house where Lin Anran lived?

Jiang Zhi frantically tapped the news report and zoomed in on the photos of the blaze.

She recognized it instantly. It was Lin Anran’s house. Having lived there briefly, she was intimately familiar with it.

How could it suddenly catch fire? Was Lin Anran inside? Was she hurt?

Countless dark thoughts flooded her mind. She couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario, her entire body becoming consumed by a frantic anxiety.

With trembling hands, she entered the number and dialed.

Ring… ring… ring…

The dial tone echoed in the receiver. With every ring, her heart grew more desperate. Her hand instinctively clenched into a fist, her nails digging into her palm and drawing sharp stings of pain.

“I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is not answering. Please try again later.”

Her heart sank. Her breathing became ragged as the automated voice finished. She tapped her chest lightly, trying to alleviate the feeling of suffocation.

It’s okay, it’s okay. She won’t be hurt. Maybe she wasn’t even staying there. Even if she was, she might have run out before the fire spread.

The news didn’t mention casualties yet. She told herself not to think of the worst.

Jiang Zhi kept redialing while trying to soothe herself, but the hand holding the phone wouldn’t stop shaking. She could accept that Lin Anran no longer wanted anything to do with her; she could accept being hated or despised; but she could not accept Lin Anran suffering or being in an accident.

A person as wonderful as Anran deserved the best the world had to offer. She shouldn’t have to suffer even a fraction of pain.

Time ticked by. After an unknown number of attempts, the call finally connected.

“Hello.”

A voice both familiar and strange traveled through the receiver. Jiang Zhi froze.

“Hello? Who is it?”

Jiang Zhi’s breathing became heavy, her throat so dry she couldn’t make a sound. Or rather, she didn’t dare make a sound.

“Hello? Who is this? You keep calling, but you don’t say anything.” Lin Anran’s irritable, impatient voice sounded exactly the same as it always had.

Hearing that voice after so long made Jiang Zhi feel as though she were in a trance. She bit her lower lip until it turned white, keeping her breath as light as possible, fearing that a single heavy exhale would expose her presence.

She listened greedily to the sound of her voice.

Receiving no response, Lin Anran lost her patience and hung up.

The world returned to silence, leaving only the sound of Jiang Zhi’s chaotic heartbeat. Even now, her heart refused to slow down, pounding wildly in her chest.

Jiang Zhi practically collapsed back into her rocking chair, her strength completely spent. She didn’t even have the energy to hold her phone; it slipped from her palm and fell onto the dirt ground.

Lin Anran’s voice on the phone had sounded full of energy. It seemed she hadn’t been injured in the fire.

As long as she’s not hurt.

Jiang Zhi let out a long, shaky breath, feeling like she had just survived a disaster. Lucky jumped onto her lap, letting out a series of “meows” as if trying to comfort her. Jiang Zhi hugged the cat, burying her face in its soft fur, waiting a long time for her emotions to stabilize.

She felt a surge of relief that she hadn’t spoken. An ex who left without saying goodbye had no right to call, let alone the right to show concern. A “trash” ex should stay “dead” and never make another sound.

If she had suddenly spoken and reappeared in Anran’s world, Anran likely wouldn’t be happy; she would find it annoying and disgusting. Jiang Zhi had long ago defined herself in relation to Lin Anran: a bad memory, a nuisance.

Jiang Zhi had enough self-awareness not to disgust her.

Tears soaked Lucky’s fur. She was crying—she hadn’t cried in a long time—but these were likely tears of joy. Lin Anran was healthy and safe; that was all that mattered.

Lucky tried to lick her face, but Jiang Zhi pushed the cat away. “Dirty.”

Lucky hissed, its fur standing on end. This wretched human! I try to comfort her and she calls me dirty!! It gave her a quick swipe with its paw and jumped away.

Drrr… drrr…

The phone on the ground vibrated. Jiang Zhi leaned down to pick it up. The caller ID was a string of numbers burned into her memory.

Jiang Zhi stared at the number, her emotions surging violently, but she didn’t move. She watched until the call ended and became a missed call.

Her heart felt hollow. Then again, it had been hollow for a long time.

As she prepared to tuck the phone into her pocket, it vibrated twice. A text message.

“Is it you?”

Jiang Zhi’s fingers curled sharply. She stared at those three words for a long, long time. Long enough for the sun to set and the sky to turn black.

Just as she hadn’t answered the call, she did not reply to the text.

That night, she suffered from insomnia again. It wasn’t unusual.

In the past, Lin Anran’s texting style involved sending ten or twenty messages at a time. But today, there was only one text—three words and a question mark. No more messages followed, and no more calls came.

Jiang Zhi tossed and turned on her wooden bed, her mind racing. Why did Lin Anran ask “Is it you?” Did she guess? It had been two years; logically, she shouldn’t have guessed.

Furthermore, given Lin Anran’s personality, if she really suspected it was Jiang Zhi and wanted an answer, she wouldn’t have stopped at one text. She would have bombarded her with messages until she got a confirmation.

The fact that she didn’t bombard her… what did that mean?

She guessed it was me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not an important person anymore. Is that it? Bitterness spread across Jiang Zhi’s tongue. She spent the entire night analyzing a three-word text.

Why analyze it? Why couldn’t she just forget? Why was the “forgetting Lin Anran” progress bar moving so slowly? She tried to force it forward, but it was always in vain—sometimes it even slid backward.

She stayed awake until dawn before finally falling asleep. But being asleep was worse than being awake because she dreamed. She dreamed of Lin Anran getting married, wearing a pure white wedding dress, looking impossibly beautiful. Jiang Zhi could only stand among the guests, a mere spectator watching her walk down the aisle with someone else.

When she woke up, her pillow was wet with tears.

After a four-hour train ride on a hard seat to the city, her limbs felt stiff and her body was aching. Despite the fatigue, she didn’t regret choosing the cheapest ticket. Saving two hundred yuan was worth it for the habitually frugal Jiang Zhi.

She stretched her neck and legs, finally feeling like she was coming back to life. Scanning the crowd, she saw a slightly chubby girl holding a sign that read “Raising Cats in the Countryside” in large black letters.

Jiang Zhi walked over. The girl noticed her and immediately approached. “Hello, are you ‘Raising Cats in the Countryside’?”

“Raising Cats in the Countryside” was Jiang Zhi’s video ID. The name felt fine online, but hearing it read aloud in reality… it was quite embarrassing.

Jiang Zhi nodded with an awkward smile. “Yes, that’s me.”

Jiang Zhi’s account had hit a plateau. Traffic was declining, and a sense of crisis had made her uneasy. Coincidentally, a platform had reached out with a contract offer.

Going solo wasn’t easy; the further she went, the harder it felt. If she could sign with a reliable company that provided support, it would undoubtedly benefit her development. But signing meant losing freedom and facing constraints.

She had hesitated for a long time, researching information online, and couldn’t make a decision. What finally pushed her to decide were two sentences sent by the company representative:

“If you are satisfied with the status quo and are just playing around, then you don’t need to sign.”

“But if not—if you truly want to achieve something and reach the top of this field—our company can help you. We have the best team, the best resources…”

Jiang Zhi finally decided to meet for a face-to-face talk.

Getting from the small village to the city was a hassle: bicycle to town, bus to the county seat, another bus, and then a train. It had taken nearly four hours.

As soon as she got off the train, she met the staff member, the chubby girl. The girl was very enthusiastic, constantly introducing the company and the benefits of signing. Jiang Zhi followed behind, listening quietly.

Having been lost and without a plan for her career, she suddenly had a vague direction. She wanted to do her best to make this account successful. This direction had actually been sparked by Lin Anran’s original guidance; by a stroke of luck, she had actually achieved some results.

In their relationship, Lin Anran had taught her so much and given her so much. But what had she given Lin Anran in return? Aside from a silent departure and pain, there was nothing.

Her thoughts drifted again. Jiang Zhi shook her head and refocused.

She had researched the company, ZAR, thoroughly before coming. ZAR focused on influencer incubation, talent scouting, and content operation. The company had been around for five years but had remained mediocre, nearly going bankrupt two years ago.

Then, for some unknown reason, they overcame their difficulties. The company flourished, signing more and more bloggers, including some top-tier influencers. ZAR was now considered a large company in the industry.

Jiang Zhi was actually surprised that a company of this scale was interested in her middle-of-the-road account. She had expected a small agency, not a big player. Not only were they interested, but they had messaged her multiple times with persuasive arguments, acting as if they were determined to sign her.

Jiang Zhi didn’t know if ZAR treated all bloggers this way, but they certainly seemed very… attentive toward her. If she hadn’t verified the company’s legitimacy, she would have feared they were scammers. They were extremely patient and offered many “sweeteners.”

It was normal to offer perks to famous bloggers, but for someone of Jiang Zhi’s size, it was a bit strange. Using a sledgehammer to crack a nut, she thought.

Regardless, there was no harm in checking it out. If there was a problem, she wouldn’t sign.

The girl led her to a meeting room. “Miss Jiang, please wait a moment. Our boss wants to talk to you in detail.”

Jiang Zhi was startled. “A blogger of my size requires the boss to talk to me personally?”

The girl smiled. “Don’t sell yourself short, Miss Jiang. We have comprehensively evaluated your account. We don’t just look at follower count, but development potential. We are very optimistic about your potential.”

Jiang Zhi gave an awkward smile. Potential? She never felt her success was due to her own ability; it felt more like being in the right place at the right time. To put it bluntly: luck.

The girl left. Alone in the meeting room, Jiang Zhi felt her nerves rising due to the “big boss” treatment. She took a sip of tea to soothe her dry throat.

Creak.

The door to the meeting room was pushed open. Jiang Zhi looked up.

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