The Plan to Save the Villainess Supporting Actress [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 11.2

Zhu Ran was willing to share with her.

The practice room clearly wasn’t the right place for serious conversations, so the two wandered around and ended up on the rooftop again.

Compared to the other day when they had filmed a video here, Zhu Ran now seemed much more relaxed around her.

They chose a clean ledge to sit side by side. There wasn’t much wind today, and the air clung to their skin with a sticky warmth.

The side closer to Zhu Ran felt even hotter.

After dancing several routines in a row, the girl was practically a walking furnace.

The heat radiating from her made Nan Zhi’s heart skip a beat.

“I have a friend.”

Ah, the classic opening.

Nan Zhi nodded, not interrupting Zhu Ran.

“She wasn’t their biological child. Her adoptive parents seemed to dislike her, yet they still provided her with a small bed and a bowl of rice, raising her nonetheless. She always thought it was because she wasn’t likable—unlike her sister, who knew how to sweet-talk the elders, who had many friends and was adored by classmates and teachers. So it was only natural that everyone preferred her sister a little more, and she believed so too.”

“Her sister was sensible and well-behaved, loved by everyone, so it was impossible for her to make mistakes. If her sister did something wrong, it must be the younger sister’s fault. At first, when her sister made a mistake, the adoptive parents would scold the younger sister. Later, the sister told her that if she could just be as obedient and sensible as she was, she would earn others’ affection and no longer be beaten or berated.”

“So the younger sister began to strive, learning from her sister, obeying her every word, doing whatever her sister said. Sure enough, the beatings became fewer—her sister was right. The younger sister was overjoyed and wanted to try even harder. If one day she could do as well as her sister, or even better, would her adoptive parents love her the way they loved her sister?”

Nan Zhi’s heart sank.

Zhu Ran’s voice was soft, calm and detached, as if she were truly telling someone else’s story.

But her tone was too light, so light it ached Nan Zhi’s heart.

“Until one day, for the first time, the younger sister surpassed her sister. It was a school piano competition, which the younger sister had secretly signed up for without telling anyone. She had never taken a single piano lesson—only during moments when her sister was bored and played pretend games with her, acting as a piano teacher and teaching her a tune. Perhaps the younger sister really had talent, because even with such haphazard learning, she managed to master one piece.”

“It was that very piece that won her first prize in the competition. The younger sister was thrilled, proud. Naively, she thought her family would also be proud of her talent. But what awaited her…”

Zhu Ran took a deep breath and skipped the details.

“In short, after that day, the younger sister learned a lesson. One must learn gratitude and contentment. Raising her had not been easy for her parents; all she needed to be was an ordinary, unremarkable person. Excellence wasn’t meant for her, nor could it ever be.”

Nan Zhi couldn’t help but ask, “Did the younger sister never resist after that? She deserved her own life too.”

“She did, but…”

Zhu Ran seemed to recall something, tilting her head back with a faint, almost imperceptible laugh, and didn’t continue.

There had to be more.

Between her and Shen Jiaying’s family, something else must have happened.

But she didn’t want to say any more.

Was it worse than what she had already revealed?

Too painful to remember, too unbearable to face?

Nan Zhi bit her lower lip and fell silent.

She couldn’t understand why Shen Jiaying’s parents would treat a little girl like that.

According to the original story, Zhu Ran was only seven when she arrived at the Shen household, and that piano competition happened when Shen Jiaying was nine.

How could they treat a child like that—beating her, berating her, controlling her mind!

Zhu Ran suddenly asked, “Nan Zhi, tell me, what wrong did that younger sister do? Why is it that she just isn’t worthy of love?”

The June weather shifted abruptly. The sky, clear just moments ago, darkened in an instant, as if foretelling an approaching storm.

The air grew even more stifling, the early summer cicadas began their chorus, and sparrows skimmed low over the rooftops.

Nan Zhi suddenly stood up, cupping Zhu Ran’s face in her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze.

“You idiot!” she scolded fiercely. “If they don’t like you, then stop liking them back! The world doesn’t revolve around Shen Jiaying—there’s me, Teacher Xu, Tang Keyue, Xue Zhi… we all like you! So just focus on loving us back!”

Their position was undeniably awkward.

Nan Zhi herself didn’t know where this burst of courage came from, to suddenly reach out and hold Zhu Ran’s face like this.

Not to mention the leg she’d lifted to brace herself—half-kneeling beside Zhu Ran, feeling the subtle friction against her inner thigh from the other girl’s breathing movements.

This was terrible.

Zhu Ran was forced to tilt her head back, face cradled in Nan Zhi’s palms. They were so close Nan Zhi could see the faint downy hairs on her cheeks.

Their breaths came hot and rapid between them. As dark clouds churned overhead, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, startling both frozen girls back to awareness.

Flustered, Nan Zhi withdrew her hands and scrambled off Zhu Ran.

Impulse truly was the devil!

When she sat back down, she found herself putting more distance between them without quite knowing why.

Yet the oppressive heat in the air only intensified, creeping up to stain Nan Zhi’s cheeks.

She fanned her face, trying to cool the burning sensation.

How strange!

Was it really this hot today?

“Um, sorry about that outburst. But what I said was true! You can feel it, right? We genuinely all like you so much.”

Zhu Ran kept her head lowered, lost in thought.

After a long pause came a quiet response.

“I know.”

“There are people in this world who don’t know how to cherish good things—arrogant, self-righteous people who force their views on others, controlling lives to fulfill their own. That’s wrong.”

Nan Zhi racked her brains trying to philosophize, but ultimately gave up.

How could Zhu Ran not understand these things?

What kept her trapped wasn’t ignorance, but something deeper.

Nan Zhi sighed softly.

All she could do was keep reminding Zhu Ran that more people than just the Shen family loved her.

As the show aired episode after episode, more viewers would come to adore Zhu Ran, just like Nan Zhi and Tang Keyue did.

They’d be captivated by Zhu Ran’s talent, deeply drawn to her brilliance.

Because Zhu Ran herself was someone extraordinarily outstanding and radiant.

How could anyone not love you?

Only when the first raindrop fell did Zhu Ran finally turn her head.

Those beautiful eyes brimmed with tears, mingling with raindrops as they trailed down her cheeks.

Nan Zhi’s heart skipped a beat.

Then she heard Zhu Ran say:

“I want to film the MV.”

Just as Nan Zhi had said, she was loved.

The people she should be looking at weren’t Shen Jiaying, Jiang Zhiyun, or Shen Yan.

Nor should they be the ones receiving her love.

She wasn’t a child abandoned by the world.

There was someone named Nan Zhi who would cradle her face like precious jewelry.

Who would solemnly, sincerely tell her:

Someone loved her this passionately.

As Zhu Ran’s tears fell, the world briefly cleared, and she finally saw the expression on the face before her.

It was a smile that made her look away time and again, yet one she couldn’t help but recall over and over.

Zhu Ran heard Nan Zhi respond to her with deep, solemn weight.

“Alright.”

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