I Became the Female Lead’s Current Obsession - Chapter 49

Hou Xue put down her schoolbag, pulled over a chair, and sat beside the hospital bed.

She stared at Jiang Qing’s face for a while, but felt no emotional stir.

The heart monitor beeped steadily, proving that the person lying motionless on the bed was still alive.

The room was quiet—aside from the sounds of the machines, there was nothing else to be heard.

Jiang Qing, lying unconscious on the bed, looked quite different from the version Hou Xue remembered.

At least in her current memory, Jiang Qing was a bold, flamboyant person. This kind of stillness was rarely associated with her.

Hou Xue leaned in slightly.

Just like the rumors said, Jiang Qing did look as if she were only asleep.

Her complexion looked decent, her breathing was steady—she appeared utterly at ease.

Hou Xue pulled a pearl ring out of her pocket.

She had taken it with her after trying it on last time. Since she planned to visit Jiang Qing, she brought it again.

As for why, Hou Xue couldn’t really say.

Maybe because it felt like something meant to be given to Jiang Qing—so she kept wanting to hand it over.

Hou Xue gently lifted Jiang Qing’s hand.

Click.

The door to the hospital room opened.

Blond hair burst through the entrance.

“Hou Xue?” Jiang Xing frowned when he saw her. “You’re only just showing up now?”

Hou Xue frowned.

Given her relationship with Jiang Qing, she was hardly the one who should be visiting.

“Haven’t you been all chummy with Jiang Yan lately? What—remembered my sister now that she’s like this?” Jiang Xing shoved his hands into his pockets, clenching his jaw. “Your mom seduced my dad, and you’re here to seduce my sister—both sisters, even. You and your mother really know how to play the game.”

Hou Xue mulled over Jiang Xing’s words and started noticing that something had been off recently.

Jiang Yan had been unusually controlling, especially about keeping her away from Jiang Xing. Even the girl who had a good relationship with Jiang Qing—Jiang Yan had warned her not to get close to that girl either.

She had assumed Jiang Xing’s hostility was just par for the course. In her memories, he often followed Jiang Qing around to torment her, so it made sense he wouldn’t treat her kindly. But that girl… Hou Xue had instinctively rejected her every time she approached to talk, simply because she didn’t recognize her well.

“What you’re calling seduction sounds a bit off,” Hou Xue said calmly as she let go of Jiang Qing’s hand and closed her palm around the ring again. “Your sister hated me to the bone. Just seeing me made her sick.”

“What kind of bullshit is that?” Jiang Xing raked a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Did a dog eat your conscience?”

“Maybe.” Hou Xue tucked the ring back into her pocket. “Compared to Jiang Qing, your older sister was way nicer to me.”

She said it even though Jiang Xing might hit her for it—she didn’t want the ring to get broken.

“Fuck,” Jiang Xing cursed, reaching out to grab her collar, but halfway there, he stopped, clenched his fist, and dropped his hand. “My sister’s here, so I won’t touch you. But I’ll let her hear what kind of person you really are—so she won’t run around you again if she wakes up.”

Run around me?

Hou Xue looked back down at the woman on the hospital bed.

It felt absurd.

The feeling was awful—so awful she couldn’t help but say, “Jiang Xing… what if I told you my memory was altered? What would you think?”

Jiang Qing had just calmed her emotions when the door burst open again.

Tang Wan’s expression was far worse than last time they met—practically a different person.

“How the hell did you do it?” Tang Wan leaned over the desk, looking down at Jiang Qing like she was a lowly, harmless time traveler.

Their main focus had always been the entity that manipulated the system to insert Jiang Qing into Waiting for Snow to Stop. Jiang Qing herself was only a loose end—until now. They had zero leads on the mastermind, and the target’s reactions to the host were totally out of line with their expectations.

“Do what?” Jiang Qing frowned.

“We’ve cleared Hou Xue’s memory of you twice,” Tang Wan said, urgency in her voice. “She reacted negatively to ‘Jiang Qing’ both times, yet somehow still ends up drawn to you unconsciously. How?!”

Jiang Qing froze for two seconds, then said calmly, “I told you—I can help you find the loophole.”

Tang Wan sat down and narrowed her eyes. “Then tell me—how do you plan to do that?”

That subtle feeling—that Hou Xue’s balance had tilted back toward her—was hard to describe. But hearing that Hou Xue’s memory had been wiped twice made Jiang Qing’s heart tremble.

She took a deep breath. “I have a theory. But you’ll need to verify it.” She paused, then touched the device on her neck. “But I can’t cooperate while this thing’s still on.”

Tang Wan hesitated for a moment, then made a gesture in the air. The device beeped.

“It’s unlocked. You can take it off.”

Jiang Qing removed the device and rubbed her neck. “What happens to the world of Waiting for Snow to Stop after your host completes the mission?”

“It gets formatted,” Tang Wan replied. “Once you leave, wiping the world is the cleanest solution. But formatting takes a huge amount of energy—we can only do it after the host departs.”

“Do you gain energy by ‘conquering’ Hou Xue?”

Tang Wan hesitated.

She didn’t think she was being loose-lipped, but Jiang Qing was assembling the pieces too quickly.

“Yes,” Tang Wan admitted, rubbing her forehead. “But that’s not the point you should be worrying about.”

Jiang Qing ignored her and pressed on. “When your host replaces a character, what happens to the character’s original consciousness?”

Realizing this might relate to Jiang Qing’s hypothesis, Tang Wan didn’t hide anything. Even if Jiang Qing knew the truth, what could she possibly do?

“We simulate the original storyline inside the character’s consciousness. It’s like they’re dreaming.”

“So, when the host leaves, Jiang Yan goes back to being the original Jiang Yan?”

Tang Wan blinked. “Wait. Are you saying.”

“When you brought me into this world, the original Jiang Qing never showed up—right?” Jiang Qing wasn’t as confident as she seemed, but she had to bet on this. “I think she’s still dreaming.”

Tang Wan followed her reasoning but countered, “That just proves someone else is running things like we are.”

“What if the dream is her own doing?” Jiang Qing said quietly. “What if I was pulled in to take her place—because she wanted out?”

“You’re saying Jiang Qing is the loophole?”

Hou Xue had a dream.

In it, her stepsister was perfectly healthy, not in a coma.

But she still couldn’t stand the sight of Hou Xue—turned and walked away the moment she saw her.

These dreams never felt real. Hou Xue always felt like she was intruding in another world.

She had no memory of what Jiang Xing told her that morning. She could faintly sense that her memories had been tampered with—but it all felt surreal, too much to process.

So, in this lucid dream, for the first time, she reached out to a conscious, communicative Jiang Qing.

She felt so frustrated, her voice was tinged with helplessness.

“Jiang Qing… which one is the real you?”

But dream-Jiang Qing only frowned and shook off her hand, snapping, “Hou Xue, even here you’re annoying me?”

This Jiang Qing was exactly like the one in her memories.

A natural outcome—but Hou Xue felt nothing but deep disappointment.

She felt ridiculous for seeking answers in a dream, and turned to walk away.

“I already left your world. How are you still finding me?” her stepsister called after her, arms crossed.

Hou Xue stopped, puzzled.

“You know, Hou Xue, you’re the protagonist of that world,” Jiang Qing said slowly. When Hou Xue looked utterly confused, she sneered. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“Protagonist?” Hou Xue echoed.

“You’re the main character. I’m just the evil supporting role,” Jiang Qing said, stepping closer. “Why else do you think I left that world?”

“You mean the world is… fictional?” Hou Xue still didn’t quite believe her. “But if you’re just a supporting character, how did you manage to leave?”

“Why should I tell you that?” Jiang Qing laughed, blocking her face with her hand. “Just calm down and stop trying to jump between worlds.”

She raised her hand, and the surroundings shifted—Hou Xue now stood on the second-floor landing of the Jiang family villa.

Clearly trying to send her away, Jiang Qing’s posture made it obvious.

Before she could be pushed out, Hou Xue asked, “How can I bring her back?”

“You’ll have to ask the outsider about that.”

Jiang Qing gave her a shove, and everything went black.

“It might be, or it might not be. I’m just giving you a line of thinking—you’ll have to verify it yourself.”

This new angle seemed to trouble Tang Wan. Her expression didn’t relax—in fact, it darkened.

Seeing that, Jiang Qing cautiously continued, “But if all you want is the energy, you don’t really need to go through all this trouble to find the loophole.”

Tang Wan looked at her, signaling for her to continue.

“What happens to Hou Xue after you take the energy?”

Tang Wan hesitated again, but eventually replied, “At this point, it doesn’t matter. The energy is her emotion. The strategy only targets protagonists who originally didn’t have a love interest. That way, even if we take their feelings, it won’t ruin the emotional arc they need to fulfill in the story.”

“So after you take it, she’ll never be able to fall in love again?” Jiang Qing hadn’t considered that, and it threw her off.

Her whole goal had been to convince Tang Wan to let her return to Waiting for Snow to Stop, hoping they’d clean up the mess. But if Tang Wan found the loophole and the host completed their mission, Hou Xue would permanently lose the capacity for love.

It was theft, plain and simple.

“In theory, yes,” Tang Wan said. “It might seem cruel to you. But the energy demands of running an infinite number of story worlds are enormous. Every time an author imagines something, a unique world is born—and it takes energy to sustain. We’re keeping those worlds alive.”

Jiang Qing didn’t know what to say.

She felt like fate was gripping her throat—and no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t find a path that let her stay with Hou Xue.