The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 39

Su Jin had always possessed a strong sense of music.

Back in kindergarten, whenever the teacher taught a new song, before the other children could even memorize the melody, little Su Jin could already hum it flawlessly.

Her voice was soft and childish, the lyrics often incomplete, yet she never went off-key—her pitch was always perfect.

Everyone praised her as a naturally gifted child.

So, whenever the school held any large-scale singing events, little Su Jin would inevitably be pushed onto the stage, her classmates cheering her on as she sang for their class with all her heart.

Even now, Su Jin could still recall that moment—the sea of glow sticks waving before her, flickering like a galaxy, and the roar of applause and cheers wrapping her in waves of warmth and excitement.

Su Jin was happy—happier than she had ever been.

So when her mother asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would always beam and declare loudly,

“I want to be a singer!”

Her mother would smile, gently patting her head, eyes brimming with tenderness.

“Then be one.”

“When my Jinjin becomes a big star, I’ll go to every one of your concerts. I’ll always be in the audience, cheering for you. How about that?”

She said this as she drew the little Su Jin into her arms.

“Mm!”

Little Su Jin giggled as she hugged her mother’s waist tightly, burying her face against her chest, laughing and laughing.

From that moment on, a seed took root in her heart.

For years, Su Jin chased that dream with unwavering determination. She never slacked, never stopped striving.

Her family hadn’t been wealthy, and her mother couldn’t afford professional music lessons. So Su Jin studied on her own—buying music theory books, searching endlessly online, analyzing, experimenting, learning, and slowly transforming all that unfamiliar knowledge into her own understanding.

Those years were hard, but they were fulfilling. With her dream and her mother’s encouragement, Su Jin never once felt tired.

Until that day.

By then, Su Jin was in high school. There was a citywide singing competition, and her teacher encouraged her to give it a try.

If she passed the audition, she could advance to the provincial or even national rounds—and maybe, if she caught the eye of one of the celebrity judges, she’d have a chance to debut.

Su Jin cherished this opportunity. She could hardly wait for the holiday to begin so she could rush home and share the good news with her mother.

That was the last time she saw her. The last time she heard her mother make a promise.

“I’ll definitely be there. Don’t worry—just do your best.”

Such a gentle, sincere-sounding sentence.

Who would’ve thought, in the end, it would turn out to be nothing but a lie.

On the day of the competition, her mother didn’t come. Su Jin searched the audience from start to finish but never found her face.

Still, out of respect for the stage, even with her heart weighed down by unease, she completed her performance with full concentration.

Then she learned the news—her parents had secretly divorced that very day. Her mother had left with a man twenty years her senior.

Ironically, while Su Jin was singing on stage, her parents were signing divorce papers.

After that, everything seemed to lose its color.

The promise was gone. Her mother was gone.

Something inside her began to break.

Su Jin scored high in the preliminaries and easily advanced to the semifinals. Everyone had believed she would win the championship.

Yet, on the day of the semifinals, she withdrew.

No one knew why.

All they knew was that Su Jin never set foot on stage again.

Jiang Zhinan’s arms were soft, her embrace warm—like a sudden gust of wind that wrapped Su Jin completely in its hold.

Su Jin froze, her steps faltering. She stood still, motionless, not turning back.

“Just trust me, okay?”

Jiang Zhinan’s voice came from behind her, trembling slightly. The noise of the bar drowned out most of her words, but Su Jin could still catch fragments—and in those fragments, she could hear the quiver of someone holding back tears.

“I.”

Su Jin’s lips pressed together, her throat dry. It took her a long time to force out even half a sentence.

Their posture drew quite a bit of attention; people were already glancing over, curiosity and speculation flickering in their eyes.

After all, Jiang Zhinan was a public figure. In a crowded bar, if someone took a photo and exaggerated the story online, the consequences could be serious.

Su Jin didn’t want to cause her any trouble.

“Are you okay?”

In the end, she turned back, her voice soft as she asked.

“I’m fine.”

Jiang Zhinan shook her head and straightened up, eyes slightly red around the rims.

“The bar has a small rooftop,” Su Jin said, her gaze fixed on her, every word sounding as if it cost her effort. “If you really don’t want me to leave, then let’s go up there and talk.”

Perhaps realizing that her words had sounded a little forceful, Su Jin fell silent for a moment before softly adding one more word—

“Alright?”

So soft, it was almost a breath. So gentle, it couldn’t be gentler.

“Alright.” Jiang Zhinan answered quietly and followed her up to the rooftop. Halfway there, while Su Jin wasn’t looking, she lifted a hand and rubbed at her eyes.

Two minutes later, they reached the rooftop together.

Compared to the hazy heat and ambiguous atmosphere of the bar below, the rooftop was far quieter. The night wind blew gently, carrying a chill that gradually seeped into their bodies.

Su Jin often came up here when she lacked inspiration, so she’d long grown used to the temperature and didn’t feel cold at all.

Jiang Zhinan, on the other hand, was clearly different—she was already shivering slightly in the breeze.

Still, she forced herself to stand straight, eyes clear and determined, as if she’d prepared an entire speech and was ready to reason things out properly with Su Jin.

Seeing her like this, Su Jin’s lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly.

“Go ahead,” she said softly, then slipped off her own jacket and draped it over Jiang Zhinan’s shoulders, even pulling the hood up for her. “President Zhou is delicate and always busy. You really should take care of yourself—wouldn’t want to catch a cold.”

Honestly, this woman.

Jiang Zhinan stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing.

Just a minute ago she’d been cold as ice, and now she was back to spouting flirtatious nonsense again.

Jiang Zhinan couldn’t be bothered to argue; she didn’t even want to look at her. Instead, she fixed her eyes on the faint floral pattern peeking through Su Jin’s shirt and began explaining everything she’d planned to say.

Even as she spoke, she stayed on guard—worried that Su Jin might get annoyed and walk away at any second.

But this time, things didn’t go the way she feared. Throughout Jiang Zhinan’s speech, Su Jin listened attentively.

When she finished, Su Jin even nodded and said softly, “That’s good.”

She was so calm, so agreeable, that Jiang Zhinan barely recognized her.

“You really think so?” Jiang Zhinan lifted her head, voice tentative. “You weren’t just now—”

Su Jin didn’t answer. She only smiled, then reached out to gently ruffle Jiang Zhinan’s hair.

“What are you doing?” Jiang Zhinan raised a brow.

“Nothing,” Su Jin replied, withdrawing her hand and resting it on the rooftop railing. She leaned forward slightly, gazing out at the distant city lights, lost in thought.

Another gust of wind swept past, brushing through her hair and fluttering the hem of her shirt, making her whole figure seem to sway ever so slightly.

Instinctively, Jiang Zhinan reached out and grabbed the corner of her coat, afraid she might slip and fall.

“President Zhou really does worry too much,” Su Jin said after a pause, her tone light with amusement. “I always knew you were persistent, but I didn’t realize you had this kind of virtue too.”

Jiang Zhinan thought to herself: if it wasn’t you, do you think I’d bother?

But she didn’t say it aloud. She stayed silent, just as before, hoping Su Jin would go on.

This woman kept herself so tightly sealed off. Even after all this time together, Jiang Zhinan felt like she’d never managed to step inside—hadn’t even brushed against the edge. She was still circling outside, endlessly.

“I’ve always wanted to know,” Su Jin said after a while, her voice so soft the wind nearly carried it away, “why do you do so much for me?”

“You’ve never lacked beautiful women around you, right? Ones with good tempers, perfect figures—women who like you and whom you could like back. So why.” She gave a faint laugh. “Why do you always end up revolving around me?”

“If you keep this up, I might really start to misunderstand.” Her smile deepened, light and teasing. “I’m no saint. If someone keeps hovering around me like this, making noise day after day, I’d care. I’d be moved.”

“And once your heart stirs, it’s hard to still it again. You can’t help but want to do something about it. You know what I mean?”

As she said that, she turned back to meet Jiang Zhinan’s eyes, gaze intent, the smile on her lips tinged with mischief.

“What do you mean?” Jiang Zhinan’s own lips curved, a spark of challenge flashing in her eyes. “Is it what I think it is?”

Before Su Jin could respond, Jiang Zhinan stepped forward, grabbed her by the collar, and closed the distance between them—then kissed her, sudden and fierce.

It was bold and reckless, like a fuse catching fire, blasting apart every shard of ice still left in Su Jin’s heart.

“You should let your heart move,” Jiang Zhinan said when they finally broke apart, still gripping Su Jin’s collar tightly. “You need to try trusting me. Try telling me what’s really going on in your head—let me understand you.”

“No one can live completely alone. Just like a heart—if it stops beating, it dies.”