The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 33

Jiang Zhinan hadn’t expected Su Jin to actually sing Two Tigers—just as she’d requested.

She had only said it on a whim, mostly to make Su Jin look foolish. But instead of being embarrassed, Su Jin’s face didn’t even twitch—she simply lifted her guitar, plucked a few strings, and before long, that familiar melody floated out from her lips.

It wasn’t quite the version Jiang Zhinan had heard children sing. The rhythm was slower, her voice lazier, lower—like a quiet whisper brushing against one’s ear.

Jiang Zhinan stood listening for a while, and in the end, she couldn’t help but feel a touch of admiration. This woman was really something.

“Happy now?” After finishing the song, Su Jin looked up at her. Her eyes shimmered faintly, like starlight scattered across a lake—utterly captivating.

“Mm.” Jiang Zhinan nodded lightly, said nothing more, and stepped off the stage.

She didn’t ask for anything else.

Su Jin watched her retreating figure for a moment, fingers idly brushing across the strings again.

That reaction surprised her. Though she didn’t know Zhou Ying all that well, she at least understood the kind of person she was supposed to be.

In Su Jin’s memory, Zhou Ying was the type who’d take a mile if given an inch—never hesitating to push her luck and use any means necessary to get what she wanted.

So to see her walk away so easily tonight felt strangely off.

But whether Zhou Ying stayed or left didn’t really concern her.

With that thought, Su Jin lowered her head again, strumming softly as she began to sing another song.

Jiang Zhinan squeezed through the crowd and sat down at the bar.

Su Jin had handled that little challenge flawlessly—not only saving Jiang Zhinan from embarrassment but also sparing her some dignity in return.

Jiang Zhinan knew Su Jin had deliberately gone easy on her. If she’d really wanted to humiliate her, she wouldn’t have been able to walk off that stage in one piece.

So, best to let things be. Picking another fight would only make her look petty.

Thinking that, Jiang Zhinan waved down a server and ordered herself a drink.

When Su Jin finished her fourth song, she slung her guitar over her shoulder and stepped off the stage. The speakers switched to a slow, rhythmic track, and the bar lights dimmed to match.

Couples raised their glasses and drifted back onto the dance floor—bodies close, faces closer—swaying to the beat.

Jiang Zhinan had no desire to dance, but she didn’t mind watching. She turned her stool slightly toward the dance floor, resting her chin in her hand.

After a while, a man in a suit approached her.

“Miss,” he said, clinking his glass against hers with a slick smile. “Care to dance?”

His tone was greasy, and combined with the heavy stench of smoke clinging to him, it made Jiang Zhinan frown.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Why not?” The man clearly wasn’t new to rejection. Even when faced with her blunt refusal, he tried to keep the conversation going. “Feeling unwell? Or don’t know how to dance?”

“No reason.” Jiang Zhinan sighed. “I just don’t want to.”

“Well, then—” He started again, but before he could finish, Jiang Zhinan suddenly shifted backward in her seat.

The man blinked, confused—then realized someone had pulled her stool back.

Startled, Jiang Zhinan turned around and met Su Jin’s gaze.

Su Jin looked different from how she had onstage. Her ponytail had come undone, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, softening her sharp features.

A faint, clean scent wafted from her—cutting right through the haze of cigarette smoke that lingered around Jiang Zhinan.

“Do you really like the smell of smoke that much?” Su Jin lifted her head slightly. Her tone sounded directed at Jiang Zhinan, but her eyes were fixed squarely on the man.

“No,” Jiang Zhinan shook her head.

“Oh.” Su Jin responded casually, then the corners of her mouth curved upward as she added, “Good. I don’t like it either.”

That wiped the smile right off the man’s face.

Without giving him another glance, Su Jin dragged another stool over, sat down beside Jiang Zhinan, and ordered herself a drink.

The bartender started mixing—liquids of every color splashing together, then ice and a metal spring shaker joined in. He lifted it high and began shaking with practiced flair.

A few minutes later, a bright cocktail appeared before her.

Su Jin took a sip, then glanced at the man who was still standing there dumbly. She smiled and said, “Tastes pretty good. Wanna try?”

“Huh?” The man froze, eyes wide. “Why would I drink after you? I’m not sick.”

“You sure about that?” Su Jin laughed softly. “You’ve been standing here staring at us for a good twenty minutes. I figured you were just dying for a drink. Guess not, huh?”

She set down her glass and added lazily, “Dance floor’s over there, restroom’s that way, exit’s up front. There’s a cybercafé and a motel right outside—take your pick.”

Her voice was calm, but her eyes glinted with unmistakable disdain. “Now, go do whatever it is you need to do.”

That one hit home.

The man’s face flushed red from his collar upward, but he swallowed his anger and left in a hurry.

As he went, the smell of smoke wafted by again, prompting Jiang Zhinan to turn her face toward Su Jin, discreetly inhaling the cleaner air around her instead.

Su Jin caught the movement but said nothing.

“Thanks,” Jiang Zhinan murmured after a moment.

“I didn’t help you,” Su Jin replied. “I just happened to want a drink. Happened to see you two talking. Happened to smell that smoke. So I happened to chase him off.”

“Did you know that?” she added before Jiang Zhinan could respond.

Four “happen to’s” in a row.

Jiang Zhinan couldn’t help a helpless little smile. She didn’t argue, just quietly finished her drink, then stood to leave.

It was getting late. Chen Bin had texted saying he was waiting outside to drive her home.

She always felt a little guilty toward him, so she didn’t keep him waiting long. Soon, she was gone.

Su Jin reached for the glass Jiang Zhinan had left behind.

Only a thin layer remained at the bottom—orange in color, not quite like alcohol, more like juice.

She stared at it for a moment, then lifted it to her nose.

Sweet.

Exactly like the faint scent that lingered on Jiang Zhinan when she’d leaned in earlier—orange, bright and sugary.

She’s switched to juice now?

Su Jin frowned slightly. Usually, every time Zhou Ying pestered her, she reeked of alcohol long before opening her mouth.

But tonight? No trace of it.

Instead, she’d requested Two Tigers and sat quietly drinking orange juice.

A wild thought suddenly crossed Su Jin’s mind.

Maybe, Zhou Ying had gone a little stupid.

When Jiang Zhinan got back into the car, she found Liu Zhiguo already inside, sitting in the back seat and scrolling through his phone to check the schedule.

“Boss.” The moment he saw her, Liu Zhiguo quickly greeted, “President Wang’s coming to visit our factory tomorrow. Who should we send to receive him?”

“I’ll go,” Jiang Zhinan replied. “That deal with him has been dragging on for ages without being signed. If we send someone else, it might not go well. I’ll handle it myself this time.”

“Got it.” Liu Zhiguo nodded and then confirmed a few other details with her.

Jiang Zhinan listened carefully throughout the drive. By the time the car pulled up in front of her apartment complex, Liu Zhiguo had just finished talking.

“Get some rest early,” she told them after getting out. “Drive safely.”

The two responded with a “Yes, boss,” and the car soon disappeared into the night.

Only after they were completely out of sight did Jiang Zhinan turn away, unlock the building entrance, and step into the elevator.

It was already late. With nothing else planned, she intended to take a quick shower and sleep early.

But just as she changed her shoes and was about to head to the bathroom, her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket.

Pulling it out, she saw a new WeChat message from President Wang. He had sent over a contact card.

The profile picture was completely black, and the display name was simple—just one word:

Desire.

Jiang Zhinan blinked. For a moment, she thought Wang must’ve accidentally sent her something inappropriate.

She was about to ignore it when another message came in—a voice note. Wang’s voice sounded weak and congested:

“Sorry, President Zhou, I seem to have caught a fever. I might not be able to make it tomorrow. I’m forwarding you my sister’s contact—please discuss the contract details with her instead. I’ll make it up to you another day.”

“Understood,” Jiang Zhinan typed back. “Please take care and remember to take your medicine.”

Wang’s company was a family business, and his sister worked there too—as a department manager.

She’d been shadowing her brother for years, picking up solid business skills along the way. Jiang figured Wang probably wanted to use this opportunity to let his sister gain some independence.

She didn’t mind. In fact, it was better this way—a department manager was bound to be easier to talk to than a CEO.

Without hesitation, Jiang added the contact to WeChat, curious about this “Desire.”

The friend request was accepted within minutes, and just like her brother, the young woman sent over a voice message.

Jiang opened it and was surprised—the girl’s voice was unexpectedly sweet and clear, completely different from the composed, businesslike image she’d imagined.

She was also straightforward and efficient—none of Wang’s tedious back-and-forth. Within a few minutes, they had confirmed the meeting time and place, and even briefly discussed a few details about the contract.

Before ending the conversation, the girl cheerfully said goodnight.

Jiang glanced at the time. From sending the friend request to finishing the chat, only ten minutes had passed—remarkably fast.

Impressed, Jiang replied with a “Goodnight” and casually tapped into the girl’s Moments.

Then, she froze.

The girl’s feed was filled entirely with photos.

Each one was beautifully shot—flawless lighting, balanced composition. Even ordinary people in her photos looked like they belonged on the cover of Time magazine—stunning and full of style.

Scrolling down, Jiang finally noticed a caption tucked between the posts:

For photoshoots, contact me.

So, she was the photographer herself.

Jiang couldn’t help but admire the girl’s professional touch.

And then—out of nowhere—Su Jin’s face flashed through her mind.

Even without the system’s hints, Jiang had already guessed that Su Jin’s true wish was to become a singer.

Not just performing on some small local stage—but to sing for a wider audience, to earn applause from countless people who truly loved her.

Jiang had been thinking about how she could help her achieve that dream.

Now, she had a direction—if Su Jin had professional photos taken, they could be her stepping stone into the public eye.

With her looks, she was sure to draw attention instantly.

Still, it wasn’t something Jiang could decide alone—she’d need Su Jin’s consent.

With that in mind, Jiang quickly contacted the person who’d helped her track down Su Jin before and asked him to find her WeChat.

The man readily agreed, boasting that it was no problem at all.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, he proudly sent her a message:

—Su Jin’s WeChat ID. Add her!

Jiang thanked him, copied the number, and held her breath as she entered it—heart pounding as she typed into the note section:

I’m Zhou Ying. I have something important to discuss with you. It’s urgent—please reply as soon as you see this.

For all her composure as “President Zhou,” she had never felt this nervous before.

After sending the request, she clutched her phone and waited, staring at the pending-friend screen for a long time.

Time ticked by slowly. No response.

Jiang sighed. It seemed Su Jin wasn’t going to accept. She set the phone aside and went to shower.

Just then—her phone buzzed again.

Startled, she picked it up and saw that Su Jin had actually accepted.

The words “You are now friends” made her eyes light up with sheer delight.

Su Jin? she typed quickly.

A reply came almost immediately. One word: “Mm.”

Cold as ever.

But Jiang didn’t mind. She hurried to reply: “I need to talk to you about something.”

This time, Su Jin’s message was still the same word—but the tone was different:

“Mm?”

Afraid Su Jin might lose patience, Jiang typed back in a rush, almost without thinking—

“I want to sleep with you.”

There was no reply.

Jiang stared at her own message for a few seconds—then froze.

She had mistyped.

She’d meant to write “I want to book a photoshoot with you.”

Her face turned crimson. Fumbling, she tried to explain.

“No, no! I meant a photoshoot, not—!”

But before she could finish, the WeChat screen flashed a large red exclamation mark.

And beneath it:

You are no longer friends. Please send a friend request before messaging again.