The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 58

Before the age of thirty-five, Su Jin had practically swept the entire music industry, winning almost every major award possible.

Just when everyone was waiting to see what her next step would be, she suddenly announced her retirement from the music scene.

The decision caused an instant uproar. Besides shock, most people couldn’t help but feel it was a tremendous pity.

But soon enough, the public came to understand. Because around the same time, Jiang Zhinan also chose to step back, handing over the company she had built for so many years to someone she trusted.

Simple as this: they’d earned enough in the first half of their lives. The second half was for enjoying it.

The two bought a large RV and started traveling wherever the road took them. They stayed as long as they liked wherever they liked, and when they’d had their fill of one place, they moved on to the next.

Someone once said that life is nothing more than a car that keeps moving forward—encountering passing travelers, fleeting scenery, joyful and sorrowful memories, and that one person who remains by your side through it all.

At the very least, before that car stopped for good, Jiang Zhinan wanted to sit beside this person, hand in hand, until the very end.

And after that, dust returns to dust; earth returns to earth.

Jiang Zhinan was two years older than Su Jin, and she passed away a little earlier as well.

The day she left was a beautiful afternoon—just like the day Su Jin proposed to her. The scenery was lovely; the sunlight warm.

Su Jin sat beside her, listening quietly as Jiang Zhinan told her all the little things she wanted her to remember later. Her fingers brushed Su Jin’s cheek with a faint smile, then closed tightly around Su Jin’s hand.

“Will you sing something for me?” Jiang Zhinan asked softly—just as she had all those years before, her gaze filled entirely with her.

Su Jin nodded. She began to sing, her voice low and gentle, weaving a melody that was tender and moving.

By the time the song ended, the person on the bed was no longer breathing.

Su Jin stared at her for a long time in a daze, before finally leaning down to hold her tightly, whispering in her ear, “Thank you.”

And,

“We’ll meet in the next life.”

When Jiang Zhinan opened her eyes again, she was back in that familiar space. The system greeted her, telling her she had performed well in this world and would once again receive a gold token as her reward.

“Mm.” Jiang Zhinan answered, taking the golden token that appeared in her hand. A flood of indescribable feelings welled up in her chest.

“Hush.” Sensing her emotional fluctuation, the system interrupted before she could speak.

“I’ll store your memories again, just like before,” it said. “Work hard on your next mission. One day, everything will become clear.”

The sincerity in its tone left Jiang Zhinan momentarily speechless.

But the unease that had been buried in her heart eased noticeably, and the fog ahead didn’t seem quite so heavy.

“Alright.” In the end, she simply nodded.

The system smiled and said nothing more. It directly opened the door to the next world.

Jiang Zhinan stepped through it and found herself inside a small, cramped room. There was a simple bed, a worn bookshelf beside it, and ahead of her sat a long wooden table.

On the table was an incense burner with three sticks of incense still burning—apparently an offering.

Jiang Zhinan frowned slightly. She walked to the bookshelf, picked up one of the books, and flipped through it. It was filled with passages on swordsmanship and alchemy.

“What is.” She moved her lips, intending to ask the system.

But before she could, a sudden knock came from the door.

“Qin Yan!” a voice called, loud and determined. “Are you inside?”

“I’m here.” Hearing how urgent the voice sounded, Jiang Zhinan didn’t hesitate. She walked forward and opened the door.

Standing there was a man dressed in white, a sword strapped to his back. His hair was tied up in a topknot, his brows tightly furrowed, his body reeking of blood.

“What is it?” Jiang Zhinan asked cautiously.

“Come to the back mountain,” the man said. “There’s work again.”

“This time, the demon that appeared near Hanjiang was too cunning. The sect lost four people in one go.”

His words were vague, but Jiang Zhinan gathered enough to know someone had died. What she didn’t know was what she was supposed to do.

But before she could ask, the man turned and left—almost as if avoiding her. His steps were quick, and he disappeared in moments.

Leaving Jiang Zhinan alone at the doorway, her thoughts scattered.

“It’s alright,” the system finally spoke, ready to explain. “The world shift was too sudden. Your memory transfer hasn’t completed yet.”

“I’ll give you a brief overview,” it continued.

“You’re currently in a cultivation sect called the Qingguang Sect. Everyone here cultivates, fights evil, slays demons—true cultivators through and through. But you don’t know any of that.”

“Then what do I know?” Jiang Zhinan asked, a little anxious. “I’m not useless, am I?”

“Not exactly.” The system clicked its tongue, sounding conflicted. “You do have a skill. A very unique skill. One that nobody else has.”

“What skill?” Jiang Zhinan asked suspiciously.

“You’ll understand once you reach the back mountain,” the system said instead, urging her forward. “Grab the tools on your bed. I’ll guide you there.”

“Okay.” Jiang Zhinan nodded and went to pick up the so-called tools.

It was a small golden cloth pouch. Inside were many items, but the most eye-catching was several golden needles and a few rolls of red thread.

I think, I might be a tailor.

That was her first thought upon seeing them.

If she was a tailor, then she was probably expected to make burial clothes for the fallen disciples.

It truly was a skill no one else possessed—everyone else was busy cultivating. No time to learn something like this.

Only her.

Jiang Zhinan had been imagining all sorts of things in her head, getting herself worked up, and before she knew it her steps had quickened. Following the system’s navigation, she finally stopped in front of a room on the back mountain.

“Brace yourself,” the system warned in her mind. “The scene is a bit violent.”

“It’s fine,” Jiang Zhinan shook her head. She figured it was just a few corpses. How bad could it be?

With that thought, she took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

The instant she entered, a wave of metallic blood and icy cold slammed into her.

The room was dim. Jiang Zhinan covered her nose and stood at the doorway, letting her eyes adjust. When the scene finally came into focus, she was stunned on the spot.

There were indeed four bodies.

But they were all in pieces.

Some were missing arms and legs, some had half their heads sliced off, some were chopped into segments. Even the eyeballs had fallen out, attached to the sockets only by dangling nerves.

A surge of nausea shot up her throat. Jiang Zhinan froze, then quickly lifted a hand to her mouth, dry-heaving several times.

“You okay?” The system’s voice rang anxiously in her head. “Do you need water? Medicine? Do you want to step out and take a breather first?”

“No, it’s fine.” Jiang Zhinan shook her head. The mess was right in front of her—there was no point avoiding it. She straightened up, trying to get herself together.

But she hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the nausea surged again.

“How am I supposed to measure this?” she asked the system while trying not to retch. “The bodies are destroyed like this. You can’t measure anything.”

“Measure?” the system repeated.

“Didn’t I come here to make burial clothes for them?” Jiang Zhinan asked, confused.

“Actually, no.” After a long, awkward silence, the system finally answered, “You’re here to sew them.”

Jiang Zhinan: “?”

“This profession of yours, no one else can do it.” The system continued. “It mostly exists in rumors. Hardly anyone’s actually seen one.”

“To put it simply—you’re an erpi jiang (cobbler).”

Worried she wouldn’t understand, the system even quoted the saying:

“That ‘I’d rather be a stray dog than an erpi jiang.’ Yes, that one.”

Jiang Zhinan: “……”

“So according to what you’re saying.” She sifted through the information the system had given her, feeling utterly miserable. “I have to use this needle and thread and stitch all these broken pieces back together?”

“Yes.” The system nodded. “But don’t worry—your needle and thread are incredibly powerful. It won’t be hard. It should feel very smooth.”

Jiang Zhinan: “……”

She never wanted to hear the word smooth again.

“Don’t psych yourself out,” the system continued to comfort her. “Just pretend they’re big radishes. Or big cabbages. Or maybe—”

The system suddenly got stuck, unable to find a suitable comparison.

The two of them fell silent for a long moment before the system finally gave up.

“I’ll go request a visual filter for you,” it said, sounding guilty. “Add a mosaic over everything.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Zhinan replied, voice heavy with sorrow.

The system said nothing more and vanished in a streak of light.

The room had already been terrifying enough. Without the system present, Jiang Zhinan felt even more afraid. She didn’t dare move, choosing instead to stand there motionless and silent.

After a while, she suddenly felt a chill run down her back.

As if someone was staring at her. Staring intently.

It’s just an illusion, she told herself firmly. Don’t look back.

But the more she tried not to look, the stronger her curiosity grew. After holding out for quite a while, she finally couldn’t resist and turned around.

And saw someone actually leaning on the windowsill, staring straight at her—

with big, clear eyes, a cinnabar mole between the brows, rosy lips and white teeth, and an exceptionally beautiful face.

“Ah!”

The moment the person noticed Jiang Zhinan looking, they jolted in fright. Their big eyes blinked in panic, and like a startled rabbit they ducked down and bolted out of sight.

“Who was that?” Jiang Zhinan muttered, baffled.

Were they here to look at the corpses, or to look at me?

And why run?