The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 24.1

Jiang Zhinan slept straight through until noon.

After running about outside for the past few days, the string of tension in her heart had yet to fully unwind. So, when she first opened her eyes, she instinctively thought she was still out there—on the run—and hastily sat up to check whether she had been caught by the soldiers.

Fortunately, the very first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was A’ning’s smiling face.

“Did you have a bad dream, Miss?” A’ning asked softly. She bent down, gently lifting Jiang Zhinan from the bed and pulling her into her arms. Her movements were tender, her voice low and soothing as she patted Jiang Zhinan’s back.

“It’s alright now. I’m here, Miss—you don’t have to be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

Those few simple words eased the last bit of panic in Jiang Zhinan’s heart.

The room was warm, yet A’Ning’s embrace was even warmer—a comforting heat that seeped into her chest and slowly softened her tensed body.

“Mm.” After a long moment, Jiang Zhinan nodded faintly in response.

“You’re such a good girl,” A’ning said with a gentle smile. She reached out to caress Jiang Zhinan’s cheek, then stood up as though preparing to fetch water for her to wash up.

“There’s no need to call me ‘Miss’ anymore,” Jiang Zhinan murmured to her back. “I’m no longer anyone’s young lady, just an ordinary person now.”

Though she tried to keep her tone calm, A’ning could still hear the faint trace of helpless sorrow beneath her words.

It was true. She had done nothing wrong, knew nothing of the schemes around her, yet she had lost everything—her home destroyed, her family gone, left to wander the streets. Anyone hearing such a story would feel pity.

A’ning sighed softly. She poured the hot water the innkeeper had just brought into a copper basin, then carried it over and sat down beside Jiang Zhinan, her gaze fixed intently on her face.

Jiang Zhinan didn’t know what she meant to do, so she simply met her gaze. The two of them stared at each other in silence for a long while.

“Yu’an.” At last, A’ning spoke, the name rolling softly from her lips. “Can I call you that from now on?”

Jiang Zhinan saw a light flicker in A’ning’s eyes.

It was just two simple syllables, and yet when spoken by her, they sounded impossibly tender—lingering, warm, full of affection.

Jiang Zhinan’s heartbeat slowed by half a beat. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she felt something stir deep within her chest.

She realized, somewhat startled, that she was moved.

This girl truly loved her—every look, every gesture, every word carried that quiet, unwavering devotion.

If she was to lose her, Jiang Zhinan thought, she might never again find someone who could treat her with such pure sincerity.

To live in this world, one must learn to cherish what one has. It was a truth Jiang Zhinan had long understood.

With that thought, she lowered her head in silence for a while, then finally reached out, a little nervously, and clasped A’ning’s wrist.

“Alright,” she said softly, a faint smile blooming at her lips.

A’ning was momentarily dazzled by that smile; her hands trembled, and she nearly spilled the basin of water she was holding.

When she returned this time, she had expected anger, resentment—perhaps even rejection.

She had imagined countless outcomes, all of them bleak. Never once had she dared to hope that Jiang Zhinan might truly accept her again.

“It’s so good.” A’ning whispered, her voice trembling as her nose stung with emotion. Tears spilled down, one after another, pattering onto Jiang Zhinan’s hand.

Seeing her cry, Jiang Zhinan couldn’t help but feel moved as well. Yet expressing emotions had never been her strength—she merely reached out and gently patted A’ning’s wrist, just as she had done years ago when A’ning had first come to her side. Every motion was filled with quiet tenderness.

After washing up, A’ning carefully combed Jiang Zhinan’s hair.

Three years apart, and her hair had grown much longer. Having lived a pampered life, her hair was soft and well-kept, smooth and silky beneath A’ning’s fingers.

As A’ning brushed through it, a deep sense of satisfaction welled up within her. She couldn’t resist leaning down to press a few reverent kisses against the strands, her gaze filled with devotion.

The touch of lips against her hair made Jiang Zhinan’s heart itch. For some reason, memories of the previous night suddenly surfaced, and she hurriedly cleared her throat, eager to change the subject.

“A’ning,” she said, “tell me what happened to you after we were separated.”

“Alright.” A’ning nodded, continuing to comb her hair as she began recounting everything—from faking her death, to assuming a new identity and sitting for the examinations, to how she gained the Emperor’s trust and rose step by step through the ranks.

Jiang Zhinan listened quietly, saying nothing. Though she was genuinely glad for A’ning’s accomplishments, her brow furrowed slightly as the story went on.

Because within A’ning’s account, she heard the name of someone who shouldn’t have been involved at all—Jiang Chengxuan.

In the original course of events, he had never played much of a role: a genteel nobleman untouched by ambition, content to live like a passing breeze. Matters of power and intrigue had never interested him.

And yet now, his presence loomed unexpectedly large.

Something was wrong.

Where there was abnormality, there was cause.

Jiang Zhinan thought for a moment, then silently called upon the system within her to ask what was going on.

The system simply replied, “Have you heard of the butterfly effect?”

“The flap of a butterfly’s wings,” it explained, “can alter the course of an entire world. And you, my dear, are no butterfly—you are far greater.”

“You mean,” Jiang Zhinan murmured, piecing it together, “my arrival has already caused ripples—changes to the timeline that have brought about events and people who shouldn’t exist? And Jiang Chengxuan is one of those anomalies?”

“I can’t tell you that,” the system said. “You’ll have to uncover the truth yourselves.”

“Understood.” Jiang Zhinan nodded slightly, lapsing into quiet thought.

A’ning, seeing her pensive expression, could easily guess what she was thinking. Her gaze dimmed.

“Yu’an,” she whispered after a pause, turning to place a soft kiss at the corner of Jiang Zhinan’s lips, “don’t trouble yourself with such matters. Leave the investigating to me.”

“I’ll make sure to get to the bottom of this,” A’ning said firmly.

“Mm.” Jiang Zhinan nodded in response. She knew she could barely protect herself as things stood, and she simply didn’t have the energy to do anything else. So for now, she could only entrust the matter entirely to A’ning.

A’ning smiled softly and lifted a hand to smooth out the wrinkles in Jiang Zhinan’s clothing.

Just then, a knock sounded from outside the door—it was the innkeeper’s boy delivering their lunch.

“Leave it by the door,” A’ning said, her tone cool and businesslike, entirely different from the tenderness she showed when alone with Jiang Zhinan. “I’ll get it in a moment.”

“Got it.” The boy answered quickly, not saying another word before setting the food down and turning to leave.

When his footsteps had faded, A’ning finally went to open the door. She bent down, picked up the wooden tray of food, and carried it inside.

The dishes smelled wonderfully fragrant. Jiang Zhinan hadn’t felt hungry before, but as soon as the aroma reached her nose, her stomach immediately growled in protest.

On the tray sat four small plates—two meat dishes and two vegetarian ones—each neatly presented and pleasing to the eye.

After several days of wandering and barely finding anything to eat, the sight alone made Jiang Zhinan instinctively swallow.

A’ning handed her a pair of chopsticks and said gently, “Go on, try it while it’s hot.”

“Aren’t you eating with me?” Jiang Zhinan asked, chopsticks already poised in anticipation.

“I’m fine.” A’ning smiled faintly and poured her a cup of hot tea. “I ate late this morning. I’m not hungry yet. You go ahead, I’ll eat something later.”

“Then I won’t stand on ceremony.” Jiang Zhinan nodded and wasted no time picking up a piece of braised pork. The moment it entered her mouth, her eyes lit up as she chewed with visible delight.

The meat was tender and rich in flavor, melting on her tongue.

So focused was Jiang Zhinan on eating that she didn’t even think to ask what A’ning planned to have later.

In no time at all, the four small plates were cleared.

Letting out a contented sigh, Jiang Zhinan leaned back, feeling utterly satisfied. Her mood had lightened considerably.

A’ning, smiling warmly, picked up a handkerchief and gently wiped the corner of her mouth.

“Has my lady eaten her fill?” she asked softly.

“Yes.” Jiang Zhinan nodded, smiling in return, her expression radiant.

“That’s good.” A’ning’s smile deepened slightly. “Now you’ll have the strength to do other things.”

“What things?” Jiang Zhinan blinked, momentarily puzzled. She thought A’ning had come up with some new activity to amuse her.

But when A’ning stood and stepped forward to pull her into an embrace, Jiang Zhinan suddenly felt a twinge of danger.

“You can’t possibly mean.” Jiang Zhinan’s voice trailed off, half in disbelief.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, my lady.” A’ning’s voice turned soft and teasing beside her ear, carrying a faint note of affection. “Once isn’t nearly enough.”

Once? Jiang Zhinan thought helplessly. You hardly stopped after one time yesterday—how do you still have the nerve to ask for more today?

But before she could say a word, her protest was cut short—A’ning suddenly lowered her head and bit her on the neck.

“Ow.” Jiang Zhinan flinched, holding her breath and freezing in place, afraid to move an inch.

She bites now too?

“Could you please let go?” Jiang Zhinan whispered tearfully, wincing. “It really hurts.”

“No,” A’ning said simply, shaking her head. For someone who had never refused her before, she was surprisingly resolute in this.

Jiang Zhinan felt utterly defeated.

“Need medicine?” the system’s voice piped up in her mind.

“Yes,” Jiang Zhinan blurted before it could even finish.

That ointment worked well enough—though she still felt sore afterward, at least she wouldn’t be bedridden for days.

She had a bad feeling the moment A’ning started again. If this continued, she’d probably end up confined to bed for half a month.

“You have my sympathies,” the system sighed, its tone tinged with pity.

Jiang Zhinan didn’t respond. She was far too busy trying to survive.

This time, A’ning didn’t stop until evening.

It was as if she’d been holding herself back for far too long—once she began, she couldn’t seem to stop. Jiang Zhinan couldn’t escape or talk her way out of it; in the end, she could only close her eyes and surrender to her fate.

“Yu’an,” A’ning murmured her name softly by her ear, her voice full of longing and obsession. “Come back to my manor with me tonight, will you?”

“Mm.” Half-dazed, Jiang Zhinan nodded, her slender hands looping weakly around A’ning’s neck.

A’ning bent down to kiss her lips. After a long moment, she added in a whisper, “Once we’re back, let’s get married. I’ve been waiting for this day for such a long, long time.”

“Mm.” Jiang Zhinan nodded again, her mind hazy. “As long as you stop tiring me out all the time.”

“Of course,” A’ning replied smoothly, though her hands clearly didn’t intend to stop—her promise nothing more than lip service.

Jiang Zhinan knew she was just humoring her, so she simply closed her mouth and decided to save her strength.

As before, she didn’t last till the end.

By now, night had fully fallen outside. Street vendors were packing up their stalls and heading home one by one.

A’ning tucked the blanket carefully around Jiang Zhinan, and only after watching her drift off to sleep did she rise, straighten her clothes, and step out into the corridor.

“Master.” One of her subordinates greeted her with a bow. “The carriage is ready. When would you like to depart with the lady?”

“We’ll wait a little longer,” A’ning said. She tilted her head up, gazing through the window at the bright moon outside. After a pause, she asked, “The matter I told you to investigate—did you find anything?”

“Yes,” the subordinate replied. “Among the beggars on the street, one claimed to know Jiang Chengxuan’s whereabouts. He said that seven days ago—before the Jiang household was raided—Jiang Chengxuan had already left the city.”

“I see.” A’ning nodded slightly, then a faint smile curved her lips.

But that smile carried something sharp beneath its surface.

If someone said Jiang Chengxuan had nothing to do with the downfall of the Jiang family, she’d never believe it.

Even back when they used to play chess together, A’ning could tell there was nothing simple about him. His moves were unpredictable, every piece calculated like a hidden snare waiting for someone to step in.

A man like that would never willingly fade into obscurity.

He was merely waiting for the right opportunity—and as for his reasons, only he himself would know.

“What a lunatic,” A’ning muttered under her breath, clicking her tongue.

“Oh, and the hush money for the beggar—did he get it?” she asked after a brief silence.

“Yes,” the subordinate replied. “And we made it clear he’s not to breathe a word of what he saw.”

“Good.” A’ning nodded, turning back toward the room. “Leave two men stationed here.”

“I expect Minister Sun will track us down soon enough,” she added, her eyes gleaming with quiet calculation. “Keep a close watch on him for me.”

“Yes, master,” the subordinate answered quickly.

“And one more thing,” A’ning said. “Keep an eye on those beggars. If any of them so much as mention seeing me.” Her tone turned cold. “Seal their lips—permanently.”

After all, only the dead can keep a secret.

A’ning didn’t enjoy killing. The things she’d seen and experienced over the years had taught her how closely fortune and misfortune were intertwined.

Every person carried their own fate—do too many evil deeds, and your luck would one day run dry.

A’ning herself didn’t fear misfortune. What she feared was that Jiang Zhinan might be dragged into it with her.

She would never allow that—not even the smallest harm.

So, this matter had to be settled quickly.

Thinking so, A’ning’s brow furrowed deeply.

Meanwhile, Sun Jin’s investigation into A’ning had uncovered something astonishing.

He had gone directly to the official who once handled the examination records and obtained information about Ying Wanyan.

The record showed she was born into an ordinary farming family in a remote village, where she lived with her parents and helped tend the fields.

The details were quite thorough—even her parents’ names were listed.

Sun Jin immediately ordered a carriage to be prepared and rushed straight to the village without rest. He stopped a few locals and asked if they knew anyone by the name of Ying Wanyan.

“No idea.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Don’t know.”

No matter how many people he asked, the answers remained the same.

“Then have you heard of these two people?” Sun Jin changed tactics after failing to find any trace of her and began asking about the names of her parents.

This time, he finally got a response. A villager told him that the two names did indeed belong to a couple who had once lived there.

But they had died of illness many years ago, both passing suddenly. They’d left behind no children, and it was thanks to the villagers’ help that the couple were buried properly on the back hill.

“Were you close to them?” the villager asked. “Shall I take you to pay your respects?”

“No.” Sun Jin had intended to refuse. The matter at hand was urgent—he still had too many unanswered questions waiting for him.

But when the words reached his lips, he swallowed them back down. Since he’d already come all this way, he might as well take a look. It wouldn’t take long anyway, would it?