The Heroine Pays Me to Fall in Love (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 59

The head of the Qingguang Sect, Lan Rang, had always been strict to the point of severity—decisive, meticulous, and utterly intolerant of even a grain of sand in his eye when it came to disciplining his disciples.

Yet there was one person for whom he held nothing but boundless warmth and tenderness.

Her name was Lan Sirou—his daughter, treasured and indulged since the day she was born.

Lan Sirou had been a beauty from childhood, especially her large, expressive eyes that seemed able to speak—eyes filled with all the purity and goodness of the world. One glance was enough for anyone to remember her forever.

A girl like that, it would be hard for anyone not to like her.

Take her birthday banquet a few years back. Nearly every prominent family attended, dressed to perfection, bearing lavish gifts—traveling from all corners of the land just to witness her smile.

Or take three years ago, when she mentioned wanting to travel. Lan Rang immediately set aside all his affairs and carefully selected several of the sect’s most skilled disciples to accompany her, ensuring her journey would be safe and carefree.

Or even this time.

Lan Sirou had wandered enough outside. After returning by sword flight with her martial uncle, she had barely settled in before a group of fellow disciples—clad in fluttering white robes—gathered outside her room, waiting to welcome her home and hear about her travels.

“It was so much fun!” Lan Sirou invited them in one by one, poured tea, set out pastries, then opened the pack she had brought back, distributing trinkets to everyone. “The scenery was beautiful, the adventures were endless. I could talk for three days and three nights and still not finish.”

“And then?” Her fellow disciples blinked eagerly, brimming with anticipation.

“Since I can’t finish in three days and nights,” Lan Sirou said with a light laugh, “I might as well not start.”

“Sirou!” the group immediately groaned.

“Why don’t we trade instead?” Lan Sirou suggested, eyes curving with a dazzling smile. “Tell me what’s happened in the sect while I’ve been away. Any interesting stories?”

“Oh, plenty.” They nodded vigorously. “For example, a while back the people from Hanshan Sect came to cause trouble, but we beat them so badly they ran off calling for their parents. And on the day of the sacrifice, Uncle Dong got drunk and made a huge scene—got locked up for ages. And then—”

They chattered enthusiastically, voices overlapping, but everything they said was something Lan Sirou had little interest in.

She endured for a long while before finally raising a hand. “Anything more interesting? People, not just events.”

“Since we get new disciples every year, maybe one or two unusual ones?” she prompted gently.

Her hint was perfect—everyone instantly thought of Qin Yan.

“There is someone!” one disciple said quickly. “Sirou, shortly after you left, our sect accepted a newcomer. She’s pretty enough, but her personality is cold and gloomy. And everything she does is downright creepy.”

“What does she do?” Lan Sirou’s interest was piqued at once.

“She sews corpses,” the disciple said, brows scrunching tight. “She stitches together broken corpses so that they’ll look more presentable when buried.”

“I heard from the elders that dealing with dead bodies shortens your lifespan.” He shook his head, voice dropping to a whisper. “And Qin Yan herself carries a heavy yin aura. Honestly, whether she’s human or ghost is questionable at this point.”

“Well, we’re cultivators—we’re not afraid of ghosts or anything. But still, best to avoid her if—Sirou, where are you going?”

“Where is this Qin Yan now?” Lan Sirou smiled, eyes sparkling. “I want to take a look.”

Her fellow disciples tried everything to stop her but failed miserably. In the end, they could only give up both Qin Yan’s residence and her usual workplace.

Lan Sirou nodded cheerfully and dashed over. She first peeked through the window of Qin Yan’s room.

No one.

A little disappointed, she hurried to the dark, eerie building where Qin Yan worked and peeked in again. After several attempts, she finally saw something.

The first thing she saw was an exceptionally beautiful back—long hair, a slender waist, straight posture, long legs.

Just from the silhouette, Lan Sirou could tell the girl was stunning.

For such a pretty person, why on earth would she willingly choose such gruesome work?

Her curiosity deepened, and she raised herself higher to get a clearer look.

Just then, the girl inside suddenly turned around.

Lan Sirou jumped so hard she almost lost her grip on the window, her heart hammering with the guilty panic of someone caught doing something bad.

“Who’s there?” a voice asked from inside.

Covering her mouth, Lan Sirou didn’t dare reply. She hopped down from the window and fled like a startled rabbit.

How did she notice me?

Her face warmed as she ran.

But even in that brief moment when she’d been dropping from the windowsill, she had gotten a clear glimpse of the girl’s face.

Utterly beautiful—arched willow-leaf brows, peach blossom eyes, lips soft and red, cheeks pale and luminous.

But, she also didn’t look easy to approach. Her expression had been cool, her gaze serious, as if she had no desire to interact with others.

Lan Sirou fiddled with the corner of her robe, head lowered as she walked.

She hadn’t seen clearly enough.

Which meant, it didn’t count.

Maybe tomorrow, she could sneak another look?

Jiang Zhinan suffered nightmares the entire night.

Although the system had indeed helped her obtain a sensory block, the earlier shock had been too great. The intense psychological impact still lingered deep within her mind.

On top of that, just before falling asleep, Qin Yan’s delayed memories had suddenly resurfaced—so the moment Jiang Zhinan closed her eyes, she saw horrifying corpses drifting around in the darkness.

It was like a vivid, immersive horror film playing directly inside her head.

Terrified, Jiang Zhinan hid under her blanket, trembling for a long while. She forced herself to push aside those gruesome images and search instead for Qin Yan’s background and past experiences.

But she found nothing useful. The only memories she retrieved were from three years ago, when Qin Yan had first arrived at the Qingguang Sect.

Everything before that was blank.

She had come alone. What she had gone through, whether she had parents or friends, who she was, what her purpose was—none of it was clear.

And afterward, there wasn’t much either. In the memories, Qin Yan was introverted and withdrawn, rarely speaking to anyone. Aside from sewing corpses, the only thing she did was tend flowers.

Perhaps the flowers helped soothe her mind.

Jiang Zhinan lay hidden under her blanket, thinking.

Tomorrow, she really needed to spend more time with those flowers to clear her head. After all, being a “cobbler” for a living was practically a high-risk, low-reward job—one wrong move and she might even end up depressed. Totally not worth it.

She thought and thought, and she had no idea how much time passed before she finally drifted off to sleep.

Maybe because she’d been affected by everything that happened earlier in the day, she even had a dream—one where someone pinned her to the ground, splitting her body open with overwhelming force.

Blood splattered everywhere—so bright it stung the eyes, horrifying in every direction.

Her whole body hurt. The pain was so intense she couldn’t even make a sound; she could only endure it in silence as tears streamed helplessly down her face.

The figure before her seemed to lean down and say something, but she couldn’t see his face clearly. She couldn’t hear his voice either. It was as if all her senses had been shut off.

Only fear and pain continued endlessly.

Lan Sirou slept deeply that night. She didn’t wake until late in the morning, stretching lazily as she got up, dressed, and went to wash up, all while yawning nonstop.

Those fellow disciples of hers seemed to have shown up again; they were waiting noisily outside, chattering away loud enough to lift the roof off.

“Why aren’t you off practicing?” Lan Sirou sighed as she pushed open the window of her room and leaned out to scold them.

But in this state, she didn’t look threatening at all. Her fellow disciples only laughed and joked with her, saying that since she finally came back to visit, of course they had to stick to her like glue.

“Enough,” Lan Sirou clearly didn’t buy it. “What are you really here for?”

“Hehehe.” Realizing their little scheme had been exposed, they stopped pretending and gave up the truth. “We just wanted to know Sirou, did you see Qin Yan yesterday?”

“I did.” The moment she heard that name, Lan Sirou instantly straightened her back.

“How was it?” they asked at once.

They normally avoided direct contact with Qin Yan like the plague, but their curiosity always got the better of them. They just wanted some juicy details for entertainment.

“I didn’t get a good look,” Lan Sirou replied. Then she hopped off the bed, walked briskly to them, and cleared her throat. “So, I have to go look again today.”

Her tone was firm. Before they could even get a word in, she had already turned around and set off toward where Jiang Zhinan was staying.

“Be careful!” her fellow disciples called after her. “Act according to the situation—don’t let her steal your soul!”

As if the girl was some kind of beast from hell.

Lan Sirou shook her head helplessly, her steps quickening. When she reached the flower bushes outside Jiang Zhinan’s door, she slid right into them in one smooth motion, crouching among the leaves like a spy, craning her neck to peek out.

She stared for a while until that tightly closed door finally opened.

Jiang Zhinan came out holding a water ladle, stepping lightly into the garden as she began watering the flowers one by one.

The morning sunlight was perfect, spilling from the eaves and bathing her in a warm glow—it made her look like she herself was shining.

Beauty was always pleasing to the eye, but when she smiled, it was even more so. She truly outshone the flowers around her.

Hidden in the bushes not far away, Lan Sirou watched her humming and smiling, and for a moment she felt as if she was looking at a celestial fairy descended from the heavens—not at all like the aloof, terrifying creature her fellow disciples always described.

Before she realized it, she was completely entranced.

Jiang Zhinan had watered about half the flowers when she looked up to stretch her neck—and immediately saw a pair of large eyes hidden among the blossoms. She jumped in fright.

But when she noticed the cinnabar mole between the girl’s brows, she instantly realized it was the visitor from yesterday.

What was she trying to do this time?

Puzzled, Jiang Zhinan quickened her pace, heading straight over to catch the girl.

Lan Sirou had no time to dodge. She was grabbed on the spot—lifted up like a carrot plucked from the earth.

“You—what on earth.” Jiang Zhinan frowned, about to speak.

But before she could finish the sentence, the girl in her grasp had already started struggling, her cheeks flushing red—probably from embarrassment—and her big eyes filling with panic.

Oh lord.

Seeing her like that made Jiang Zhinan panic too, as if she’d done something terribly wrong. She hurriedly let go.

The moment Lan Sirou regained her freedom, she spun around and bolted, running so fast she still had little pieces of grass stuck to her clothes.

Jiang Zhinan: “…”

A, a rabbit spirit?

When Lan Sirou returned, her fellow disciples had already been waiting. The moment they saw her running back in such a rush, they all jumped up eagerly.

“What happened? Coming back so fast—she must’ve scared you, right.”

“No!” Lan Sirou shook her head vigorously, her heart pounding wildly, the flush on her cheeks still not fading.

“Then what happened?” they asked, puzzled. They patiently waited for her to catch her breath.

“I, I like her!” she burst out.

Disciples: “???!?!”