The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 38

The night breeze carried a chill, leaving both of their lips slightly cold. Yet the moment they touched, that coldness slowly melted into warmth — two different bodies, two different temperatures, intertwining and blending together.

Jiang Zhinan hadn’t expected Su Jin to kiss her so suddenly. For a moment, her entire body froze, her mind going blank.

Su Jin’s kiss was unlike how Jiang Zhinan had always imagined her to be — unexpectedly gentle, almost cautious. She had leaned in swiftly, but when their lips met, her touch was feather-light.

Like a cat, she brushed her lips softly against Jiang Zhinan’s.

Jiang blinked, her face turning crimson in an instant.

Seeing her reaction, Su Jin seemed to chuckle quietly.

“Didn’t President Zhou act like a bit of a rogue with me once before?” she murmured, her lips curving as she leaned close to Jiang Zhinan’s ear, voice low and teasing. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Jiang Zhinan: “…”

Jiang Zhinan said nothing, only stared at her, cheeks flushed.

“From now on, we’re even.” Su Jin straightened up after saying that, turned around, and began walking ahead.

Jiang Zhinan froze. For a split second, she thought Su Jin meant she didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Heart skipping a beat, she hurried to catch up, frowning slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Su Jin replied with a smile, extending her hand toward her. “Let’s call the past even — everything written off. From now on, Zhou Ying, let’s start over.”

She paused for a beat, then added with a soft smile, “You might not be as terrible as I thought.”

When Jiang Zhinan got home that night, she felt as if her feet were floating.

Su Jin’s words lingered in her mind — along with the curve of her lips, the brightness in her eyes — every detail replayed vividly in her thoughts.

Jiang exhaled a long breath, didn’t bother doing anything else, and collapsed directly onto her bed.

A few seconds later, she grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly to her chest.

She couldn’t figure out why Su Jin had suddenly kissed her. Why she’d changed her attitude so abruptly. Why she’d chosen, out of nowhere, to make peace with her.

Just then, the phone in her pocket chimed. Jiang Zhinan pulled it out quickly and saw a new WeChat message — from Su Jin.

It was a photo. Su Jin had taken it in front of a mirror.

In the picture was the little red flowers Jiang had drawn on her — bright as blood, shining vividly under the light.

Jiang tapped to enlarge the image and realized that tiny droplets clung to each petal, making them look startlingly real.

“Can’t wash them off,” Su Jin wrote.

“What?” Jiang Zhinan typed back, momentarily confused.

“The flowers you drew,” Su Jin replied. “Not sure what kind of pigment Wang Xiran gave you, but it just won’t come off.”

“Have you tried other methods?” Jiang asked immediately.

“Yeah,” came the reply. “Still no luck.”

Then another message followed:

“Maybe they just don’t want to leave me.”

It was only a line of text — no emoji, no punctuation to hint at tone — yet somehow, it carried a warmth, a tenderness that made Jiang’s chest flutter.

She paused for a moment, then sent:

“I’ll look it up.”

Opening Baidu, she started typing her question into the search bar, but before she could finish, another message popped up.

“Don’t bother. It’s fine. They actually look good on me — you did a nice job.”

That words — ‘looks good’ — made Jiang smile without realizing it. She closed the browser and went back to WeChat.

“Then keep them,” she replied. “They suit you.”

The next day, Jiang Zhinan didn’t have much to do.

Her old assistant had gone on maternity leave, and HR had quickly recruited a replacement to help Zhou Ying with her schedule.

The new assistant was young but full of energy — bold, attentive, and efficient. Aside from major decisions, she handled almost everything else on her own.

As a result, Jiang Zhinan’s workload had dwindled. Sitting in her office day after day with nothing pressing to do, she soon found herself restless.

She logged into WeChat on her computer, planning to message Wang Xiran to ask how the photo processing was going.

Her last conversation was with a business partner, so Wang Xiran’s chat was a little further down. Jiang scrolled with the mouse, eyes flicking past the list — then stopped.

Su Jin’s profile picture had changed.

When Jiang had first added her, it had been an image of a starry sky. Now, it was a cluster of tiny red flowers — unmistakably from the photo Su Jin had sent yesterday. She’d cropped out everything else, leaving only the blossoms, blooming vividly beside her name.

Jiang couldn’t help but smile, lips curving as she looked at it for a few seconds before moving on.

She opened Wang Xiran’s chat and asked about the photo as planned.

Time passed quickly, and evening came.

Jiang had Chen Bin drive her to meet Wang Xiran and pick up the photos. After that, they turned the car around and headed toward Zaiye — the bar where Su Jin often performed.

Tonight, Su Jin was there too. When Jiang arrived, she had just finished her last song and was stepping down from the stage with her guitar in hand.

“Drink with me?” Jiang called out, waving to her from the crowd.

“Sure,” Su Jin replied, a bright, dazzling light dancing across her face. “Coming.”

“Mm.” Jiang nodded, said nothing more, and turned to the bar to order. She got herself a drink and ordered a lychee cocktail for Su Jin.

After visiting the bar a few times, Jiang had noticed that Su Jin never sang more than five songs a night. Even though she had plenty of admirers and endless song requests, she never went over that limit.

She also didn’t have a fixed bar she performed at — moving around as she pleased, choosing where to sing purely by mood.

No one knew why.

Jiang Zhinan couldn’t quite guess what was on her own mind. She tilted her head slightly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass in absent thought, lost somewhere in the swirl of her own reflections.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting like that before a faint breeze stirred beside her. When she came back to her senses, Su Jin was already seated at her side, lips curved as she lifted the very same glass for a drink.

The air inside the bar was cool, the lighting dim. The small bulbs lining the counter flickered restlessly, throwing a soft glow across their faces—beautiful and hazy.

Through that shifting light, Jiang Zhinan watched Su Jin’s profile—the tilt of her chin as she drank, the faint fragrance rising from her skin.

It was strangely intoxicating.

Perhaps sensing the weight of that gaze, Su Jin paused mid-sip. After a heartbeat, she lowered her head and leaned in, her eyes locking onto Jiang Zhinan’s. Her voice was soft as silk when she asked, “What are you looking at?”

Even her breath carried the faint sweetness of lychee.

“Nothing,” Jiang Zhinan murmured, withdrawing her gaze. She steadied her heartbeat and took a small document pouch from her bag. “I came to bring you these photos.”

She spoke as she opened the pouch, pulling out a small stack of printed photos and a flash drive.

“Most of the photos are on the drive,” she explained. “But I printed a few that I thought turned out nicely. Want to take a look?”

“Mm.” Su Jin nodded and accepted the photos, flipping through them one by one.

Wang Xiran’s work was indeed impressive—the play of light and composition was flawless. Every advantage Su Jin had was magnified through the lens; her beauty was undeniable, every line of her form graceful and defined.

It was the first time Su Jin realized just how versatile her own image could be.

“How are they?” Jiang Zhinan asked softly once she finished.

“They’re nice,” Su Jin replied, and returned the photos to Jiang Zhinan’s hands.

Returned them?

Jiang Zhinan blinked, startled, and hurried to ask why.

“Aren’t these the photos you wanted?” Su Jin said evenly. “Otherwise, why take so many? You probably wanted to keep them for yourself, didn’t you?”

Ah. So that’s what she thought. No wonder she hadn’t asked any questions from the start.

If this was the real Zhou Ying, she would have taken the photos just to hoard them for herself. Zhou Ying had been obsessed with Su Jin—madly so.

But Jiang Zhinan wasn’t her. She had other motives entirely.

“No,” Jiang Zhinan shook her head, blinking gently. “That’s not it. I actually wanted to use them somewhere else.”

“Where?” Su Jin looked up. Her tone hadn’t changed much, but Jiang Zhinan still found herself holding her breath, carefully choosing her words as though one wrong phrase might upset her.

“Su Jin,” she began, her voice calm but earnest, “have you ever thought about the future?” She lifted her head to meet Su Jin’s eyes. “Being a bar singer might be free, and the pay isn’t bad, but it’s not exactly stable.”

“You’re beautiful, and your voice is incredible. We could think bigger—invest in something for your future.”

“For example?” Su Jin arched an eyebrow.

“For example, debuting,” Jiang Zhinan said, her tone brightening with sincerity. “Start by building an online following, then move toward becoming a professional singer. You’d be doing what you love and earning from it too. Don’t you want to stand on a bigger stage?”

Her eyes shone with conviction as she spoke. “I can help you, Su Jin. I mean it—I want to help you.”

Su Jin looked at her for a long time without speaking. Her expression slowly cooled.

“Zhou Ying,” she said finally, her tone low and frosted, “do you even hear yourself?”

What kind of joke was this? Did President Zhou really have that much free time—enough to visit her every day, and now even start planning her future?

It had to be a whim, just a fleeting fancy. Like before.

She couldn’t believe it again. If she did, she’d only be setting herself up for another heartbreak.

“No, thank you.” Before Jiang Zhinan could answer, Su Jin rose to her feet. “I’ve got things to do. I’ll go first.”

Her tone was as cold as her expression.

Jiang Zhinan froze, startled. She reached out instinctively to stop her, but her hand faltered halfway.

Su Jin didn’t look back. Her pace was brisk, and soon she was nearly out of sight.

All the blood in Jiang Zhinan’s body seemed to still. Her fingers went cold, her mind blanking in panic.

She couldn’t hesitate—something deep inside told her that if Su Jin walked out that door, she might never see her again.

So at the last second, she pushed herself up and rushed forward, almost stumbling as she did.

There were a lot of people around, and someone must have accidentally caught her foot. Jiang Zhinan lost her balance, pitching forward—

—but Su Jin was right there. Jiang Zhinan threw out her arms, clinging to her in a desperate embrace.

Su Jin stiffened, taken aback, her steps halting on instinct.

“Please, believe me,” Jiang Zhinan said, her voice trembling with urgency. “Just listen to me, trust me, please.”