The Supporting Female Lead Chooses to Mark the Villain [Rebirth] - Chapter 2

Without waiting for Xi You’s answer, Shen Nian made a choice entirely different from her previous life.

She packed her things, rushed back to the Shen estate, and pushed open the door to the room on the second floor of the medical building.

“The doctor said the plasma reserves are sufficient, yet the treatment is still at a standstill,” Shen Nian said, her movements stiff. She kept her eyes fixed on Shen Zui’s pale knuckles resting on the duvet. “I rushed back, but I don’t seem to be of any help.”

“Why would you think that?” Shen Zui propped herself up, sitting against the headboard with a lazy elegance. “It’s those useless fools who are incompetent. It has nothing to do with you.”

Shen Nian couldn’t find a trace of fear on her face. Frowning, she asked, “Aren’t you worried? What if you really lose your legs?”

“Then I’ll simply do without them,” Shen Zui replied, her tone as indifferent as if she were discussing someone else’s body.

Shen Nian stared at her, stunned into silence.

Reading her mind, Shen Zui laughed softly. “Is that really a face worth making?”

Finding her voice, Shen Nian pressed for confirmation: “It really doesn’t matter to you? Losing your legs?”

“I don’t go out anyway.” Shen Zui glanced at the window, then quickly looked away, her voice devoid of emotion. “Everything rots eventually.”

She finished with a faint smile directed at Shen Nian.

Shen Nian struggled to describe the feeling in her chest. The woman on the bed was gravely ill—her face bloodless and her frame gaunt. Yet, even so, Shen Zui remained breathtakingly beautiful. With her delicate “distant mountain” eyebrows and phoenix eyes, the compassion in her smile seemed to belittle her own suffering.

She didn’t care for the world, nor did she care for herself.

It took a moment for Shen Nian to remember her purpose. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“Have you never thought about a permanent cure for this illness?” she tested quietly.

“Hmm?” Shen Zui tilted her head slightly. “I’m afraid medical technology hasn’t reached that stage yet.”

Shen Nian ground her teeth. “What I mean is—”

Before she could finish, the door swung open. The female doctor entered, followed by an assistant nurse.

Seeing the two of them—one standing, one lying down, with no physical contact—the doctor visibly relaxed. She tightened her rubber gloves and addressed Shen Zui respectfully: “Miss, it’s time for the blood draw.”

Shen Zui cast a lukewarm glance her way and gave a faint “Mm.”

The doctor circled the bed to reach Shen Zui, intentionally bumping into Shen Nian as she passed. Shen Nian didn’t retaliate; she simply stepped back and watched as the doctor checked Shen Zui’s temperature with a thermal gun.

“Your temperature is still high…” The doctor frowned, observing Shen Zui’s complexion. “How do you feel? Is there any specific discomfort?”

Shen Zui leaned back slightly. “…I’m very tired. I want to sleep.”

“That’s normal. You need plenty of rest to ensure your body can fight the allergic reaction,” the doctor said, raising her voice slightly while pointedly glancing at Shen Nian.

She then made way for the young nurse to step forward for the blood draw.

Accustomed to the routine, Shen Zui extended her arm and closed her eyes to rest. The nurse knelt by the bedside, her body trembling slightly as she looked at the bruised needle marks on the inside of Shen Zui’s elbow. After a silent pause, she whispered, “Miss, let’s try a different spot. I’ll use your wrist.”

Shen Zui didn’t open her eyes, but she cooperatively adjusted her arm.

The process was not smooth. As a layman, Shen Nian didn’t understand the technicalities; she only saw the nurse prick Shen Zui’s right wrist three times without successfully drawing blood. On the final attempt, the needle came out, and a single, slow drop of blood seeped from the wound.

“What are you doing?!” The doctor was the first to lose her temper. She shoved the nurse aside. “You can’t even handle something this simple?”

The nurse looked aggrieved and guilt-stricken. “I’m sorry… my hand slipped…”

“Can you do it or not?” the doctor demanded. “If not, I’ll do it!”

Just as they were about to swap places, Shen Zui opened her eyes.

“Miss?” The doctor froze under that icy gaze.

“The noise is giving me a headache.” Shen Zui raised her left hand to rub her temples. She glanced at her right wrist and held her arm out to the nurse. “Draw it from the original spot.”

Most of the nurse’s face was hidden behind a mask, but her eyes sparkled. She murmured an “Okay” and tried again. This time, after two more pricks, dark blood finally flowed through the thin metal tube into the syringe.

Once enough was collected, the nurse sighed in relief and began packing up. She had been crouching for so long that when she tried to stand, her numb legs gave way, and she pitched forward.

“Ah—!”

Shen Nian instinctively stepped forward. Seeing the nurse catch herself with her hands, narrowly avoiding falling onto Shen Zui, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

The nurse was clearly relieved as well. “I’m sorry, Miss, I didn’t mean—”

Before she could finish, Shen Zui suddenly raised her foot and kicked the nurse in the chest. Despite her illness, she exerted an unexpected force that sent the girl sprawling off the bed.

The nurse hit the floor with a thud. When she stood up, her arms shook uncontrollably at her sides. “Miss…”

Since the equipment hadn’t been fully cleared, the nurse looked up cautiously. Shen Zui still looked like a frail beauty, but her lips were pursed, and her eyes glared with a sharp, piercing intensity. Her expression was blank, but the aura radiating from her was worlds apart from a moment ago.

The room fell silent, but the nurse looked as if she were receiving a brutal punishment. Deep, rhythmic chattering sounds—clack-clack-clack—began to come from beneath her thick mask. Her teeth were hitting together in terror.

Outside, a long-still branch suddenly shook. A gust of wind snatched away two green leaves.

A thought flickered in Shen Nian’s mind: It’s going to rain.

The doctor snapped out of it, pushed the nurse aside, and personally finished tidying up. Clutching the hard-won tube of blood, her tone became even more subservient. “Miss, please rest well. Once the results are in, I will bring your medication.”

Shen Zui yanked the duvet off her body and commanded coldly, “Change the bedding.”

“Yes!” the doctor replied instantly.

The nurse was quick to help, and the two of them hurried out with the old bedding.

After the outburst, Shen Zui was panting slightly. A feverish, ominous flush appeared on her pale cheeks, making her look both eerie and hauntingly beautiful. Shen Nian looked away, her gaze falling on Shen Zui’s bare ankles and the red spots marking them.

The thought that these symptoms would eventually cost Shen Zui her legs made Shen Nian’s brow knit tight.

“It stinks,” Shen Zui said suddenly in the empty room.

Shen Nian looked up. “Hmm?”

She took a few breaths, but smelled only the scent of rubbing alcohol and a faint, indistinguishable fragrance. There was nothing foul.

“It stinks!” Shen Zui repeated. She parted her lips to breathe through her mouth, a trace of hidden grievance flickering in her eyes. “Can’t you smell it? It’s unbearable.”

Shen Nian moved to her side. She sniffed again and shook her head. “I don’t smell anything.”

Shen Zui reached out. “Niannian, come closer.”

Shen Nian stared at the offered palm before tentatively placing her hand in it. Shen Zui closed her fingers tight, pulling Shen Nian’s hand to her nose and inhaling deeply.

In the next moment, her furrowed brow relaxed, and her labored breathing smoothed out.

Shen Nian felt awkward, but she allowed it. Feeling the burning heat of the other woman’s skin, she instinctively reached out with her free hand to touch Shen Zui’s forehead.

“You have a fever.”

Shen Zui had been acting so normally that Shen Nian had almost forgotten she was suffering.

“Mm,” Shen Zui hummed vaguely, leaning her cheek against Shen Nian’s palm as if seeking the coolness. She let out a sigh of comfort.

Caught off guard, Shen Nian pulled her hand back, unsure how to react. Fortunately, Shen Zui kept her eyes closed, still holding onto Shen Nian’s fingers.

After a while, her breathing returned to normal. “…Much better.”

Shen Nian breathed a sigh of relief. To break the silence, she asked, “Is the bad smell gone?”

Shen Zui nodded. “Niannian smells good.”

“What?” Shen Nian was confused. “I have a scent?”

“Yes.” Shen Zui smiled, her tone lightening. “Other people smell terrible. Only Niannian… you have always smelled wonderful.”

The realization hit Shen Nian, and a flush crept up her neck. “It must be… the pheromones.”

Shen Zui’s rare condition made her hyper-sensitive to pheromones; Alphas and Omegas were strictly forbidden in this building. Every employee, from the head doctor to the cleaners, was a Beta. To Shen Zui, pheromones were usually a lethal poison.

Shen Nian was the only exception. Only she was not rejected. It made sense that Shen Zui could smell the faint trace of her pheromones.

Shen Zui didn’t speak; she simply leaned closer until her upper body was almost touching Shen Nian’s. It was the first time they had been this close, and Shen Nian’s breathing turned shallow. Just as she was debating whether to take a step further, the door clicked.

The doctor had returned with a new, vacuum-sealed set of bedding. Seeing their posture, she paused for a fraction of a second before hurrying forward.

“Miss, the new blankets are here.”

Under Shen Zui’s watchful eyes, she unpacked the bedding with gloved hands and spread it over Shen Zui’s legs. Shen Zui let go of Shen Nian’s fingers and gave a cold “Thank you.”

The doctor spoke a few routine words, but as she prepared to leave, she turned an unkind gaze toward Shen Nian. “Miss Nian, let us leave together.”

“Excuse me?” Shen Nian frowned. “You go ahead. Why do you care what I do?”

Aware that Shen Zui was present, the doctor forced a fake smile. “The Miss needs rest. If you stay here, she—”

Shen Nian looked at Shen Zui, who happened to be yawning, her fingers half-covering her lips. Catching Shen Nian’s gaze, Shen Zui looked back, a ripple of emotion in her half-open eyes.

Shen Nian exhaled slowly. She turned to the doctor. “You leave first. I have things to discuss with my Young Aunt.”

“What could possibly be so important that it can’t wait until she recovers?” the doctor’s tone sharpened with displeasure. “I’ll say it again: what she needs most is rest. She doesn’t have time to listen to you—”

“Dr. Chen.”

A soft voice cut her off. The doctor’s hand froze mid-air. She stiffly turned her head. “Miss?”

Shen Zui’s gaze was deep and unreadable. “Since when,” she asked, “is it your place to arrange matters between Niannian and me?”

“I…” The doctor was speechless. She lowered her hand, biting her lip. “Miss, you are very ill. You must rest.” She tucked in the corner of the blanket. “The medicine you took at noon has a sedative effect. Do you feel sleepy?”

“Very,” Shen Zui yawned again. “I don’t want to hear you talk. But Niannian can stay.”

The doctor was trapped. She played her final card: “The Madam is on her way back. She specifically instructed us to take good care of you.”

Shen Zui looked at her directly. She didn’t speak, but a chilling silence filled the room. The air felt heavy and suffocating.

Shen Nian looked toward the window and saw a torn leaf whipped against the glass by the wind. It struggled violently, its veins twitching like nerves.

At the foot of the bed, the doctor’s body—hidden under the thick protective suit—began to shake. Without warning, under Shen Zui’s gaze, she whispered a trembling “I’m sorry.” Still unwilling, she cast a hidden glare at Shen Nian before retreating from the room as quickly and quietly as possible.

Shen Nian watched the door close and then met Shen Zui’s eyes. Shen Zui beckoned her over, her gaze as clear as a mountain stream.

“Niannian, come here,” she said, her voice like one coaxing a child.

Shen Nian walked to the bedside.

“Sit down.” Shen Zui patted the edge of the mattress.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Shen Nian sat. This time, Shen Zui leaned her head directly onto Shen Nian’s shoulder, inhaling greedily.

Shen Nian waited for her to speak, but Shen Zui seemed to have found the perfect pillow. She simply closed her eyes and prepared to sleep.

The posture was on the verge of being intimate. Shen Nian endured it for two minutes before whispering, “…Are you asleep?”

Shen Zui broke the silence with a light chuckle. “It’s going to rain.”

Shen Nian looked at the window. “The wind has been blowing for a while.” Shen Zui tilted her head up, mimicking her, her collar sliding down to reveal a stretch of white, delicate neck.

Shen Nian was surprised. Even with a low fever, Shen Zui had been observing the details outside.

“If it thunders tonight, will Niannian still be afraid?” Shen Zui asked.

“Afraid of what?” Shen Nian was baffled.

Shen Zui toyed with a lock of Shen Nian’s hair. “When you were little, you would hide in the wardrobe on rainy nights. The slightest sound of wind or thunder would scare you to tears.”

Shen Nian froze for two seconds, then shook her head. “Impossible. I’ve never been afraid of thunder.”

“…” Shen Zui lowered her eyes and took Shen Nian’s hand to compare it with hers. Though there was a twelve-year age gap, the younger Shen Nian’s hand was already larger.

“Niannian has grown up. You’ve forgotten what happened when you were small.”

Shen Nian was still confused. she had no memory of what Shen Zui was describing. “Who told you that? Auntie Li?” Auntie Li was the servant who had raised her.

“I don’t need anyone to tell me,” Shen Zui said, wrinkling her nose. “I saw it myself.”

“What?”

“Ungrateful,” Shen Zui teased, tapping Shen Nian’s forehead. “You didn’t dare sleep alone at night, so you’d drag your little blanket to my room. I had a competition the next day, yet I stayed up until 2:00 AM coaxing you to sleep.”

“I…” Shen Nian was speechless with shock.

Shen Zui had only moved into this building recently due to her illness. Before today, Shen Nian didn’t remember having any direct interaction with her. As for her childhood… her early days in the Shen family had been a blur of physical and mental suppression. Perhaps the trauma was so great that her mind had forcibly buried those memories.

She tried to remember, but all she could recall were fragments of being tormented by her nominal sister and ignored by her two mothers.

“I… I don’t remember,” Shen Nian said, shaking her head.

Shen Zui circled her wrist with her fingers. “It’s fine if you don’t.” She paused, letting out a soft sigh. “There isn’t much worth remembering anyway.”

Shen Nian turned to look at her. Shen Zui gave a small smile.

She returned to the previous topic: “What I meant was, it’s raining, and you can’t go back. Do you want to stay here and rest?”

It was an absurd suggestion. In the modern world, rain didn’t stop anyone from traveling. Shen Nian realized this but chose to play along.

“Okay,” she nodded, her throat tightening.

Shen Zui moved to one side, clearing enough space for someone to lie down. “Niannian.” She patted the spot beside her, smiling an invitation. “Sleep here.”

Shen Nian’s movements were stiff, but she didn’t refuse. She lay down as Shen Zui wished, staring straight at the ceiling.

Sharing the same duvet, Shen Zui quickly pulled Shen Nian’s arm close, resting her chin on Shen Nian’s shoulder. Because of the fever, the places where their skin touched felt like a series of small fires, making Shen Nian’s heart race.

“Niannian,” Shen Zui whispered near her ear, her breath like orchids. “Are you sleepy?”

Shen Nian closed her eyes, suddenly remembering the book she had read after her death.

She knew. She had known from the moment she flipped those pages—Shen Zui’s feelings for her were not simple.

If they were simple, why would a distant aunt be so devastated by her niece’s death that she would abandon her own treatment to seek revenge? Why would Shen Zui choose to end her life after the revenge was complete?

What Shen Zui felt for her had never been just family affection.

As Shen Zui intentionally brushed against her, murmuring, “Niannian smells so good,” Shen Nian could hardly restrain her racing heart. She realized she shouldn’t think of Shen Zui as a relative either, even if only in name.

She couldn’t be blamed. It was Shen Zui’s feelings that had changed first.

“I can’t hold you anymore.” Shen Zui stretched out her arm and frowned, realizing she couldn’t fully wrap her arms around Shen Nian’s body. “You used to love clinging to me…”

Before she could finish, Shen Nian rolled over. She hovered over Shen Zui, looking down at the “Pearl of the Shen Family” trapped in her embrace.

Shen Zui looked up at her, a hint of confusion in her expression.

“Young Aunt…”

If Shen Nian had felt any embarrassment when she first decided to mark Shen Zui, this moment was enough to sweep away all hesitation.

Shen Zui seemed to be out of the loop. “Hmm?”

She was thirty—a woman at her most radiant. Despite her thinness, the mature charm in her eyes and at the corners of her mouth was undiminished.

Shen Nian took a deep breath. She lowered her head and brushed her lips against Shen Zui’s cheek, as if making a vow.

The action caused a series of tremors to ripple through Shen Zui’s body. Her lazy gaze gradually sharpened. In her eyes, Shen Nian saw bewilderment and confusion—but no resistance.

“I will save you…” Shen Nian tilted Shen Zui’s chin up, her voice solemn, as if providing an unshakeable excuse for what was about to happen.

Shen Zui frowned. “Save me?”

Shen Nian leaned in, her lips grazing the corner of the other woman’s mouth.

“I will…” she whispered, her hot breath fanning across Shen Zui’s face. “…mark you.”