Striving for Harmony After Transmigrating as an Alpha Female Supporting Character - Chapter 28

The traditional depiction of Jing Nianxun’s parents in the original novel was flat mere background characters used to establish her tragic backstory.

But the reality was far more complex. Nianxun’s mother, Ding Wanluo, was Ding Chengying’s younger sister. Gifted and brilliant, she was a small-town girl who conquered the nation’s top art academy. It was there she met Jing Shihui. They shared a soul-deep bond and spent their post-grad years as nomadic artists, wandering the country to create.

When they decided to marry, the Ding family revolted. To them, Jing Shihui was a “penniless boy” wasting his life on stones. They arranged a marriage for Wanluo with a wealthy heir, ordering her to stop “fooling around” and come home. But Wanluo, a woman of freedom and art, chose a different script: she eloped with Shihui.

They never returned. It was only after the fatal car accident that Nianxun’s grandmother, heartbroken, brought her back and arranged for her to live with the wealthy Ding Chengying. Ding Chengying, however, harbored a lifelong resentment. She had always been jealous of her sister’s talent and grace, and she viewed Nianxun as a living reminder of the sister she loved to hate.

Nianxun was the sacrificial lamb of this family feud, enduring years of cold shoulders in her aunt’s house.

With this context, the gaps between the original plot and reality finally closed. Xiaoyu now understood the weight Nianxun carried.

Nianxun ultimately decided to attend the training camp. She needed to see the traces her parents had left behind. On the day of her departure, Xiaoyu walked her to the station. Amidst the surging crowds, they felt very small. Realizing this was Nianxun’s first long trip alone, Xiaoyu couldn’t help but fret. “Take care of yourself. Call me if anything happens.”

Nianxun laughed, her mood bright. “Xiaoyu, you’re younger than me. Why do you sound like you’re in your thirties?”

Because I am, Xiaoyu thought silently.

After Nianxun passed through security, she waved back at Xiaoyu. Even as Nianxun walked away, she looked back and saw Xiaoyu still standing in the exact same spot. She waved one last time before disappearing into the terminal.

Watching Xiaoyu’s retreating figure from a distance, Nianxun felt a strange pang. They had only been apart for minutes, yet she was already starting to miss her. The feeling of having someone to miss… is actually quite wonderful.

Outside the station, Xiaoyu felt aimless. She wandered the streets, looking at the storefronts. This world felt so real—not like a book at all.

Suddenly, a wave of loneliness hit her. Since arriving, her world had revolved entirely around Nianxun: avoiding OOC moments and grinding Entropy. With Nianxun gone, she felt lost.

“System? System, are you there?” she pestered.

After three dings, the mechanical voice replied. “I am here.”

“System, once the Entropy is full, can I really go back?” Xiaoyu bought an ice cream and leaned against a wall covered in children’s graffiti.

“Yes,” the System replied. “Once Entropy reaches 10,000, you can fulfill one wish.”

“Wait,” Xiaoyu caught a detail. “You said ‘fulfill one wish.’ You didn’t specifically say ‘go home.’ Does that mean I can choose something else?”

“Correct. You may choose to stay or return. Staying does not require a wish; you could use the wish for something else entirely.”

Xiaoyu licked her ice cream slowly. Initially, she had been desperate to return, assuming “the wish” was her ticket out. But now, looking at the stray dog barking nearby and the crying child being pulled along by a parent… it all felt so tangible.

And then there was the “heroine.” Xiaoyu winced at the term. Jing Nianxun wasn’t a “heroine”—she was a real person with a name. And Xiaoyu wasn’t just a “supporting character.”

The thought flashed by and she headed home. As soon as she walked in, her phone buzzed. It was a photo from Nianxun: a landscape of the countryside through a train window.

Jing Nianxun: I’m on my way. 😊😊

Xiaoyu replied with a “cat-head-pat” emoji.

Nianxun messaged constantly—photos of the train, the arrival, the Academy gates. One photo showed the Academy’s marble gates with a tiny, blurry figure in the corner. It was Nianxun. She was wrapped in the long, elegant coat Xiaoyu had helped her pick out. She looked tall, sophisticated, and perfectly suited for the artistic atmosphere.

Xiaoyu saved the photo. She realized they didn’t have a single picture together. If I go back, will I never see her again? Can I even take my phone with me? The questions made her restless, and she retreated under her covers.

The next day was quiet. Nianxun sent a quick “phones aren’t allowed in the studio” message and vanished for the day.

Xiaoyu spent the day moping, realizing she had become completely accustomed to Nianxun’s presence. The house felt empty. She wandered past Nianxun’s room and saw the cactus on the sill and the bunny plush on the pillow. Before she knew it, she had snatched the bunny and brought it back to her own bed.

She realized then: she really couldn’t bear to be without her.

That night, her phone vibrated violently. She lunged for it.

“Xiaoyu!” Nianxun’s voice was high with excitement.

“Hey, what’s up?” Xiaoyu felt a physical weight lift off her chest.

“Xiaoyu, Senior Yuan Wen was right! There are so many of my parents’ works in the exhibition! I saw their names. My mom painted the sea from when they took me to the coast as a kid, and my dad has a sculpture of a fisherman. It’s all real!”

Nianxun talked for an hour about the art and the things she was learning. Xiaoyu didn’t understand most of the technical jargon, but she kept the phone pressed to her ear, content just to hear her voice.

Finally, Nianxun whispered, “…Xiaoyu, I think I want to go to the Academy of Fine Arts. Senior Yuan says I can get in through my academic scores and study theory, and I’ll still be able to paint.”

Xiaoyu was silent for a few seconds, then smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

Support