The People I've Been With Have All Become Obsessive [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 1

When Tong Yao found her, Bai Song was leaning over the cashier counter, flirting with a ponytailed girl in uniform, making her giggle shyly, covering her mouth with her hand while casting bashful glances at her.

Tong Yao stood by the shop window, watching Bai Song take the girl’s soft, delicate hand, lowering her head to examine it carefully before saying something that made the girl’s face light up with surprise and admiration.

At it again using palmistry as an excuse to hold hands with innocent young girls.

Bai Song was beautiful tall, with long, straight legs, a narrow waist, and curves that could make both men and women lose their composure.

But her face was even more striking.

Deep lake-blue eyes, a high nose bridge, and slightly full lips in a naturally seductive muted rose shade. Her fair skin wasn’t overly delicate, but it was poreless, with just a hint of soft roundness in her cheeks that added a playful charm to her refined features, making people instinctively want to get closer.

The first time Tong Yao saw her, she was instantly captivated by those lake-blue eyes, like pools of water. She couldn’t help but draw near to Bai Song, willingly falling into her sweet web of romantic lies.

She knew Bai Song was scum.

Bai Song looked the part of a refined, elegant woman, but her behavior was anything but.

Outwardly, she wore an approachable, smiling, soft demeanor, but inside, she was cold few people or things could ever truly reach her heart.

And she loved to flirt. If someone caught her eye, she’d take advantage, teasing without ever committing, so slick she could probably start an oil field.

Yet, it was this very kind of person who had somehow managed to win Tong Yao’s genuine affection.

Though Tong Yao was a woman, she was the sole heir to the Tong Group. Two years older than Bai Song, she had spent years studying abroad before returning. Instead of parachuting into a high position, she chose to conceal her identity and enter the company as a regular employee to learn the ropes.

Despite being a wealthy heiress, strict upbringing and good manners, along with her cheerful and down-to-earth personality, helped her blend in quickly with her colleagues.

Her original plan was to grasp the inner workings of the Tong Group within a year, then take over and officially begin the next chapter of her life.

But then, she encountered the greatest calamity of her existence.

Bai Song was a fellow intern who had joined headquarters at the same time. With her good looks and witty humor, Tong Yao had taken an immediate liking to her.

Tong Yao had long known she was attracted to women, but for various reasons, she had never been willing to confront her own sexuality.

Somehow, Bai Song had figured it out.

She didn’t expose her, nor did she promise to keep it a secret. Instead, she simply found a free moment, invited Tong Yao to the rooftop, cracked open two beers, and confessed that she liked women too then fed her an unbearably cheesy motivational speech.

Strangely enough, after that conversation, the fog that had clouded Tong Yao’s mind for so long was swept away as if by a whirlwind. Her thoughts cleared, and the heavy weight pressing on her heart seemed to explode into dust, scattering with the wind…

Tong Yao fell for Bai Song.

And Bai Song…

Paused for a moment when she was confessed to, then accepted.

Tong Yao had always assumed that hesitation was due to shock, or that she had been too sudden, startling her. But in reality… Bai Song’s reluctance was simply because she didn’t feel the same.

For Bai Song, Tong Yao had fought with her parents.

The Tong parents couldn’t accept that their only daughter, groomed as the heir, was a lesbian. Their first move was to seek out Bai Song, doing exactly what the male lead’s parents would do in every TV drama, offering money to buy her off and make her leave.

This act infuriated their daughter beyond measure. Tong Yao outright abandoned the Tong Group and severed ties with her family.

Alone, she moved out of the Tong residence and into Bai Song’s small apartment.

Bai Song’s parents had died in a traffic accident ten years prior. The perpetrator was someone immensely wealthy and powerful, and after paying a hefty settlement, the matter was swept under the rug.

Compared to the Tong Group, Bai Song wasn’t even an ant more like a single-celled organism, say, a paramecium.

But by most standards, she was still comfortably middle-class.

At the time, she didn’t trust keeping the money anywhere, so she simply bought property.

Back when housing prices were still reasonable and purchase restrictions didn’t exist, Bai Song secured enough capital to coast for years, exchanging her windfall for five, six, seven bright red property deeds.

Who knew that just a year later, she’d be living the easy life?

When Tong Yao abandoned everything to start from scratch with Bai Song, she had nothing to her name.

Job hunting proved futile despite her qualifications and skills, the Tong family’s interference meant even reputable companies wouldn’t dare glance at her resume. The few oblivious small businesses that did schedule interviews would inevitably fold before she could even step through the door.

So, Tong Yao remained unemployed at home.

But Bai Song never complained. She provided food, shelter, and even occasionally treated her to lavish outings.

Yet Bai Song never once offered words of encouragement or spoke of the future.

Tong Yao had assumed it was to spare her feelings, but now she realized Bai Song never believed she’d last.

Taking her in was no different from feeding a stray cat or dog for a couple of days. It wasn’t like Bai Song couldn’t afford it.

Perhaps because she had too much free time, their relationship started off sweet and sticky, like malt sugar twirled around two sticks clingy, inseparable.

But as time passed, Tong Yao noticed Bai Song growing colder.

People talked about the seven-year itch, but theirs didn’t even last seven months.

Golden afternoon sunlight spilled over them as Tong Yao stared at the two figures in the distance, their beauty like something out of a painting. Her eyes burned.

Her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood she didn’t notice. The sting of sweat seeping into the wounds was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

Suppressing the urge to lash out, Tong Yao took a deep breath and turned away without hesitation.

System: She’s gone.

Bai Song’s legs nearly gave out. If not for leaning against the counter, she might have collapsed right there.

Still shaken, her heart pounded wildly: If she hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have been able to keep smiling. My face was about to cramp.

System: Pathetic.

Bai Song: …Easy for you to say when you’re not the one getting stabbed by dagger-like glares.

Bai Song wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, grabbed the shopping bag from the counter, and turned to leave without a second glance ignoring the lingering, pleading gaze and flirtatious glances from the young girl behind the register.

Truth be told, she hadn’t even registered what the girl looked like. After all, she hadn’t come to this world to pick up girls, she was here to complete a mission.

Bai Song’s mission was simple: play the role of a heartbreaker.

Apparently, because heartbreakers often met tragic ends, the overwhelming resentment they generated disrupted the world’s balance. The data had developed a mind of its own and fled to escape its grim fate.

Until the rogue data was found, Bai Song had to step in and take over its role.

Honestly, the task wasn’t hard. The scenes, dialogue, and even some actions were pre-scripted. All Bai Song had to do was perform them like a puppet, exactly as written.

But deep down, she was still terrified. After all… what kind of fate could be so terrible that even data would run from it?

Bai Song didn’t dare imagine.

Perhaps afraid that Bai Song might bolt like the data if she knew the ending, the system assisting her didn’t dump the entire plot on her at once. Instead, it doled out scenes one by one, like a TV drama filming on the fly.

The scene she’d just acted out was another betrayal, one that would completely shatter Tong Yao’s trust and love for her.

Running through her performance in her mind, Bai Song preened: How was that? My acting’s improved, right?

The system replied flatly: Compared to when you used to forget lines and recite them like a textbook while reading off a prompter, sure, it’s an improvement.

Bai Song: …

Not many were willing to take this job. Bai Song had been pulled in as an emergency replacement. Her acting wasn’t just bad, it was nonexistent.

To avoid raising Tong Yao’s suspicions from a sudden change in behavior, Bai Song had arrived before the two characters even met.

But even so, her portrayal of a heartbreaker was far from convincing.

Her solution? Stay away from home as much as possible, ensuring Tong Yao never witnessed her infidelity firsthand. Instead, she followed the system’s instructions, leaving behind subtle clues for Tong Yao to uncover.

And just now, she’d delivered the final blow her “acting climax.”

She hadn’t dared improvise, nor had she let Tong Yao see her face clearly. Just a fleeting glimpse, leaving the rest to imagination.

But even that much had left Bai Song exhausted.

She rubbed her shoulders, feeling as drained as if she’d just destroyed an enemy’s base yet proud of her efforts: What’s next in the script?

The system flipped through the scenes, transmitting them while summarizing: When you get back, Tong Yao will confront you, demand to know what she means to you, and then you’ll have a huge fight. She’ll storm out and slam the door.

Bai Song: !

She scratched her nose nervously: An emotional outburst? I’m not great at those.

The system replied coolly: You’re not great at any kind of acting. Just keep a straight face cold and detached is fine. And don’t forget to memorize your lines beforehand.

Bai Song: …

Forgetting her lines mid-rage would definitely be hilarious.

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