The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 50

It started raining the day after Su Jin left.

Jiang Zhinan had just gotten off work. As usual, she stood by the window to check the weather.

The rain was heavy, drumming loudly against the panes, splashing onto the ground. The wind howled, dragging a thousand threads of unease up from the depths of her heart.

The sky grew darker by the minute. Everything outside fractured into shifting patches of light and shadow, painting layer upon layer of gloom.

She didn’t know why, but Jiang Zhinan suddenly felt as if Su Jin might be standing somewhere within that darkness, holding two steaming cups, umbrella in hand, waiting for her with a gentle smile.

“Go,” the system sighed, sensing her thoughts. It didn’t say anything more.

“Mm.” Jiang Zhinan nodded, pulled open a drawer for her umbrella, and headed downstairs.

Of course, Su Jin wasn’t there. Jiang Zhinan still instinctively lifted her gaze, searching the shadows ahead, but no matter how long she looked, she found nothing.

It was pure self-deception.

She exhaled softly, raised a hand to flag down a taxi, gave her address, and then leaned back against the seat in silence.

In her mind, the system spoke again, asking whether she wanted to choose fast-forward mode.

Fast-forwarding meant artificially accelerating the world’s timeline, skipping stretches of time that held little impact on the main progression.

Convenient, harmless, and the memories remained perfectly intact.

Ninety-nine percent of hosts chose it—it was the sensible option.

“I’ll think about it.” Jiang Zhinan shook her head. She wasn’t ready to decide yet.

“Alright,” the system said, without pressing her. “Tell me when you’ve made up your mind.”

“Okay.” Jiang Zhinan nodded again. She didn’t speak after that, simply stared blankly at the rain outside the window.

She lived in a busy district. Traffic was normally bad during rush hour—add rain on top of that, and everything turned into gridlock. The taxi crawled forward in painful stop-and-go motions.

The driver grumbled, snapping curses under his breath as he honked. Then he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with one hand. The smoke drifted back toward her, stinging Jiang Zhinan’s throat.

Her mood, already poor, sank even further.

“Maybe you should let me off here,” she said after a moment, unwilling to sit through it any longer. “The intersection ahead is even worse. You can take the side road instead. My place isn’t far—I’ll walk the rest.”

“Fine by me.” He didn’t want to continue forward anyway. He took her fare, pulled over, and made a quick turn at the traffic light.

Jiang Zhinan opened her umbrella, stepping into the puddles as the cold wind buffeted her. She felt frozen to her bones.

And the colder she got, the harder the longing surged from her chest, dragging Su Jin’s face back into her mind.

She paused. One hand held the umbrella; the other fumbled inside her pocket until she pulled out her phone. With stiff fingers, she opened the camera, wanting to take a picture of the rain to send to Su Jin.

—It’s pouring over here.

She typed as she walked, her fingers almost numb from the cold, wanting to act a little spoiled with her.

—It’s freezing. I’m almost frozen through, I.

She never finished the sentence.

Rationality suddenly overtook her. A quiet voice in her chest murmured that she shouldn’t send messages like this.

They were so far apart. Su Jin couldn’t hug her from a distance; her words would only make Su Jin worry, and nothing else.

She’d put on such a brave front the day Su Jin left—she didn’t want Su Jin to worry. How could she start acting childish now?

With that thought, Jiang Zhinan finally deleted the message she had painstakingly typed out.

The wind was fierce, and puddles dotted the entire road. A ten-minute walk became a thirty-minute trudge.

Only when she unlocked her apartment door did warmth seep back into her limbs. The knot of unease and grievance that had been strangling her chest eased just a little.

She had no appetite and no energy to do anything else. With a sigh, she washed up quickly and crawled straight into bed.

Maybe because of the weather, the two little stars tattooed on her chest ached—worse than when she’d first gotten them. A sharp, throbbing pain.

“Ugh.” Jiang Zhinan whimpered softly, curling up into a tight ball under the covers, trying to think of something—anything—else to distract herself.

The system had already returned to its own space, but before leaving it had worriedly given her a phone number, telling her to call if anything happened.

It was surprisingly human—for a system to use a phone.

The thought made Jiang Zhinan’s lips lift faintly. She was amusing herself now.

Well, it made sense. The system had a partner, after all. They saw each other every day, spent every night together.

Unlike her and Su Jin.

Thinking of that, her heart flipped again—this time with sharp sourness.

“Ah.” She whimpered a second time, stifling her emotions in the blankets.

Just then, her phone suddenly rang.

Jiang Zhinan stuck a hand out, dragged the phone under the covers, and saw that it was a video call—from Su Jin.

Her heart leapt. She sat up immediately, answered the call, and greeted her with a smile tugging her lips up.

“Su Jin.”

The corners of her eyes were red, her complexion pale. She must have frozen on the way home; even now she hadn’t fully warmed up. Her lips were almost white.

Yet despite all that, the moment she saw Su Jin, she smiled—a soft smile, like a delicate flower blooming stubbornly in the wind.

Carrying fragrance, beaded with rain, catching the light of the sun.

Su Jin looked at her, a warm current quietly pooling in her chest. The fatigue on her own face softened into a gentle smile.

“What are you doing?” she asked, leaning back against the soft sofa cushions. “Have you eaten?”

“I did.” Jiang Zhinan lied smoothly. “I ate a lot.”

“Really? I thought your fridge was empty.” Su Jin raised a brow. “So, what exactly did you eat?”

“I grabbed something to eat outside,” Jiang Zhinan said, glancing at the heavy rain outside the window as she continued weaving her excuse.

“I just checked the weather forecast,” Su Jin replied, mercilessly exposing her lie. “It’s pouring out there. Even if you did go out, there’s no way you’d be back this fast.”

“Zhou Ying, be honest with me—did you skip dinner and starve yourself again?”

With things laid out so plainly, Jiang Zhinan really had no room left to argue.

She paused, then finally nodded and admitted the truth.

“You need to eat properly.” Su Jin sighed, her voice softening to gently coax her. “Before I left, I saw some pasta in the fridge. Get up and make a bit, okay?”

“I will, in a minute.” Jiang Zhinan blinked, deliberately trying to win some pity. “I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“It’s fine. I won’t hang up.” Su Jin smiled. “Go cook. I’ll keep talking with you.”

“Okay.” Only then did Jiang Zhinan finally nod, climbing out of bed and padding toward the kitchen in her fuzzy slippers.

She set her phone on the stand by the window and carried a pot over to fill with water, glancing anxiously at the phone the whole time—just to make sure Su Jin was still there.

Seeing this, Su Jin couldn’t help laughing. Just like back when they went to get their tattoos together, she began chatting about everything that had happened after she got off the plane: what she saw, the culture there, little anecdotes from her day.

The purpose was the same as before—simply to comfort her.

She wanted Jiang Zhinan to know that no matter how far apart they were, she was always there.

Jiang Zhinan listened with full attention, her previously anxious heart gradually settling. She even managed to crack a few jokes.

After a long stretch of talking, the pasta was finally done.

Carefully, she plated the noodles, grabbed some seasoning from the fridge, squeezed it on top, and carried the dish over to the table.

Su Jin, too, earned a change of scenery—no longer sitting on the windowsill but now placed squarely on the table in front of Jiang Zhinan.

The pasta was still steaming hot. Jiang Zhinan twirled it with her fork, then lifted a strand and gently blew on it before holding it up to the screen.

“Want to try my cooking?” she asked with a bright smile.

Su Jin played along, opening her mouth as if taking a bite, even miming a thoughtful chew before giving a big thumbs-up.

“Delicious,” she praised warmly. “My girlfriend’s cooking is the best.”

“Of course it is.” Jiang Zhinan grinned, reclaiming the forkful and popping it into her own mouth.

By the time the two of them “shared” the entire bowl of pasta one bite at a time, it was almost nine o’clock.

Vienna was about seven hours ahead, so Su Jin still had time for other things—but Jiang Zhinan needed to rest.

“Go to sleep,” Su Jin said softly after a moment. “I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Jiang Zhinan nodded. She didn’t want to hang up at all, but she didn’t want Su Jin worrying, so she forced herself to end the call.

Feeling much lighter, she washed up and slipped back into bed, closing her eyes to coax herself toward sleep.

But before she could settle, her phone buzzed again—another message from Su Jin, this time a very long one.

— I love you.

That was the opening line.

— Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine here. I’ll work hard and come back to see you as soon as I can. After that, I won’t leave. I’ll stay with you, always.

— You too—take good care of yourself. Don’t overthink things. I’ll always be here.

The words “always be here” made Jiang Zhinan’s eyes instantly turn red.

Su Jin was no different from her—carrying longing, reluctance, and working hard alone overseas, all because she hoped to bring them toward a better future.

Jiang Zhinan wished she could be like her—work harder, grow stronger.

— Me too.

Jiang Zhinan lowered her head and slowly typed the next line.

— I’ll always be here too. I’ll love you forever.

At this moment, the answer to the system’s earlier proposal was already clear.

After a short silence, Jiang Zhinan finally called the system.

“What’s wrong, Zhinan?” 214’s voice came through immediately, clearly startled—it thought something had happened, or that Jiang Zhinan was upset and crying somewhere alone. It rushed to reassure her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“214,” Jiang Zhinan murmured, a little embarrassed, “I don’t want to fast-forward anymore. I want to stay in this moment.”

“Keep pushing me, okay?” she added. “I know she went abroad to become better before coming back. So, I want to work hard too—I want to become better.”

“Just like she said before, we want to become each other’s light.”

“That’s wonderful,” the system replied, and even its voice carried a smile. “Then work hard. Grow the company bigger.”

“The biggest in the country, the biggest in Asia, the biggest in the world!”

“Okay.” Jiang Zhinan couldn’t help smiling. “I will.”