The Supporting Female Lead Chooses to Mark the Villain [Rebirth] - Chapter 75

The next day.

Shen Zui was gently nudged awake. Shen Nian, already fully dressed, brushed her lips against hers. “Time to get up and head to the airport.”

Shen Zui took a moment to check in with her body; she felt refreshed. Aside from a lingering, faint ache from their passion, she felt no discomfort. She looked up at Shen Nian.

Shen Nian smiled, clearly reading her mind but asking anyway, “What is it?”

“I thought…” Shen Zui rolled over. Her jet-black hair slid down with her movement, covering her exquisitely lined shoulders and neck like a velvet blanket. Her eyes were misty with sleep, projecting a lazy, coquettish sexiness that she only ever showed in front of Shen Nian. “I thought you might have rebooked the tickets for a later flight today,” she said, opting for a subtle phrasing.

“Ahem.” Shen Nian cleared her throat awkwardly. She سپس (then) furrowed her brows. “Am I really the kind of person who can’t resist even that much temptation?”

Though, in truth, she had almost abandoned everything to keep going…

Shen Zui gave a teasing smile, her eyes half-closed. She reached out a hand toward her young lover. “I was just worried that if you bottled it up for too long, you might break.”

Without needing further explanation, Shen Nian leaned in, swept her up from the bed in a princess carry, and took her straight to the bathroom. She stopped in front of the vanity, gazing at their intertwined reflection in the mirror.

“Hmm?” Shen Zui reached up to touch her cheek.

Shen Nian obediently allowed the caress, then leaned down to brush the hair away from Shen Zui’s neck, gathering it all behind her. Without the hair as a shield, the red marks on Shen Zui’s fair skin were exposed under the light—vibrant and scattered like the deliberate strokes of a sunset in an oil painting.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. Shen Nian’s breath hitched for a moment as her fingers traced the “masterpieces” she had left the night before. She took a deep breath and said, “Not here.”

Shen Zui persisted in teasing her. “Why not?”

Shen Nian pinched her chin gently. “Stop playing around.”

Shen Zui looked up into her eyes, which were filled with shimmering laughter. She asked, “Is it because the hotel isn’t good enough, or…” She turned around, hooking her arms around Shen Nian’s neck and breathing like an orchid against her lips, “…is it that I won’t do?”

Shen Nian gripped her soft waist, holding her breath. She managed to squeeze out two words through gritted teeth: “Shen. Zui.”

“Mm-hmm.” Shen Zui leaned in, proactively pecking at her lips while her fingers began to “light fires” around Shen Nian’s neck.

Shen Nian suddenly caught her mischievous fingers. Her body was burning hot. Avoiding Shen Zui’s kiss, she lowered her head to her lover’s wrist; her breath was as scorching as an open flame. “How long is your vacation?” After a pause, she added, “Has everything at the company been arranged?”

Her voice was muffled, heavy with suppressed desire. A complete “permanent marking” would require at least a week…

Shen Zui, who had been as soft as a water snake just a moment ago, suddenly froze. She let out a dry laugh, lowered the leg she had wrapped around Shen Nian, and pushed against her shoulders to create distance. The transformation took only two seconds; she was once again the rational, dignified eldest daughter of the Shen family.

The “Miss Shen” pointed at the glass door of the bathroom. “Out,” she commanded. “I need to wash up.”

Shen Nian’s thumb lingered, stroking from Shen Zui’s wrist up to her forearm, unwilling to retreat. “Shall I help you?”

“No need!” Shen Zui refused flatly. She spoke with such force that her small canine teeth—usually well-hidden—peeked out.

Shen Nian smiled, tucked a stray lock of hair behind Shen Zui’s ear, and gave her a pure, non-sensual morning kiss. “Alright,” she said, her voice husky like it was filled with granulated sugar. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

The moment she left, Shen Zui closed the door and turned on the ventilation in one fluid motion. Two minutes later, once the scent of cedar pheromones had finally dissipated, she breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the sink. Looking in the mirror, she saw her own flushed face and affectionate eyes—the clear look of someone who had been well-nurtured. Fearing her mind would start an uncontrollable replay of last night’s scenes, she quickly splashed her face with cool water.

Despite the small detours, the two returned to A-City as planned. Shen Zui threw herself back into her career, while Shen Nian received scripts from directors Cai Kang and Duan Wenyin. Because she would eventually have to juggle two film sets, she had to master the scripts quickly to ensure she wouldn’t confuse the characters.

Her agent, Mo Huai, called her while she was debating whether to contact Duan Wenyin. In her past life, without her involvement, Cai Kang and Zhou Nan’s careers had been mediocre, and they wouldn’t have reached the threshold of making a formal feature film. Therefore, while Shen Nian personally loved the script for Waiting in Armor, she didn’t know how the market would respond.

But Duan Wenyin was different. With or without Shen Nian, her career trajectory was stable. In Shen Nian’s memory, the film Sunflowers in the Wind would face at least two rounds of public criticism after its release due to its plot. However, she wasn’t close enough to Duan Wenyin yet to offer such advice.

“What’s wrong?” Mo Huai knew her too well. “You sound listless.”

“It’s nothing,” Shen Nian rubbed her face. “Just got a bit too deep into the script.” She stood up and stretched. “Is there something up?”

“Remember how you asked me to look into the Lanhua Orphanage?” Mo Huai said. “We’ve made some progress.”

“What?!” Shen Nian’s eyes widened, her spirit instantly more energized than when she was reading. “What kind of progress?”

“I found the original staff list.” In her office, Mo Huai hit send, forwarding two photos to Shen Nian’s phone.

Shen Nian quickly checked the messages. First was a spreadsheet—the duty roster for Lanhua Orphanage. Unfortunately, it only listed a few names and their corresponding roles, offering little useful information. Disappointed, she swiped to the second photo and froze.

Under the “Lanxin Orphanage” sign, eight men and women stood smiling for the camera. As an actress, Shen Nian was sensitive to micro-expressions. She noticed that most of them looked awkward, as if they weren’t well-acquainted.

Something is wrong. The thought flashed through her mind. It wasn’t the expressions—it was their ages. They were young. All of them were far too young. Her gaze fixed on the middle-aged woman in the center. Even by a generous estimate, that woman couldn’t have been over fifty, which didn’t match the “Grandmother” figure in her memories at all.

“Most of the people in the photo can’t be contacted,” Mo Huai’s voice returned. “But my people worked hard and found a woman named Yan Zhu—the petite girl in the bottom right corner.”

Shen Nian looked at the girl huddling in the corner of the photo. She looked like a fresh graduate, her face still holding a touch of youthful innocence.

“She’s currently a teacher at a school for the disabled in the neighboring city,” Mo Huai added. “It’s about a three-hour drive. I’ve made the arrangements.”

Two days later, Shen Nian was in a van heading to the neighboring city.

“I updated Yan Zhu’s file,” Mo Huai said, rubbing her temples. “She only started at the orphanage two months before you were adopted. Shortly after, the orphanage disbanded and she left.”

Mo Huai gave her a warning: “My point is, if you’re hoping to get significant information out of her… don’t get your hopes up. This Yan Zhu was a marginal figure.”

“I know,” Shen Nian replied calmly. Shen Zui had already told her the truth about her background; she wasn’t there to ask others about her past. She simply wanted to pay a final tribute to her history.

Three hours later, they arrived at a tea house called “Mingxiang” near the special education college. Mo Huai had booked a quiet private room. Shortly after they settled, Yan Zhu arrived.

The youthful girl from the photo was now in her forties. She was thin, with fine wrinkles around her eyes from years of hard work. Mo Huai had invited her under the guise of being a parent of a former student, so Yan Zhu was shocked to see a famous star like Shen Nian.

“Please, sit,” Shen Nian said, pouring her a cup of tea. “May I call you Aunt Yan?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Yan Zhu was flattered and a bit flustered. “I had no idea… did a child from your family attend our school?”

Shen Nian waited for her to calm down before speaking. “Actually, no. Aunt Yan, do you remember the Lanhua Orphanage?” She went straight to the point. “I was a child from that orphanage.”

“Lanhua… Lanhua…” Yan Zhu’s gaze was blank for a moment, then she gasped. “Oh my! You were one of the children?! No wonder—I remember reading online that you were adopted!”

“Yes.” Shen Nian nodded. She gripped her teacup, feeling the scorching heat of the porcelain. Looking at Yan Zhu, she didn’t expect much. “Do you remember me?”

“Oh dear!” Yan Zhu’s answer was exactly as expected. “It’s been so long… I’ve really forgotten it all…” She murmured to herself, “Strange, was there a girl as beautiful as you in the orphanage? I should have some impression, but I can’t recall a thing…”

“Is that so?” Shen Nian smiled. “Actually, I don’t remember my time there at all, either.”

Yan Zhu laughed. “Of course not! How old were you then? It must have been nearly twenty years ago.”

Shen Nian pushed some pastries toward her. “Do you remember anything about the orphanage in general? Anything at all.”

Yan Zhu nodded. “Let me think… it’s been so long. Lanxin was my first job after graduation. I was young and full of energy back then…”

Mo Huai gave Shen Nian a look and then discreetly left the room to give them privacy. Yan Zhu began to chat about random memories—how the director was strict, how the children were punished if they overslept, and a “dangerous wall” in the yard.

“I was always worried the children would play under that wall. I kept reporting it to the director from the day I started. Later… later…”

Shen Nian found it strangely interesting. “Did the wall ever get fixed?”

“No!” Yan Zhu’s voice went cold. “Never!”

The unrepaired wall had become her deepest obsession regarding that place. As she spoke, more memories surfaced. “At first, the director said the teachers just needed to watch the kids. Then she said there was no money. Finally…” She let out a long sigh.

“What happened?” Shen Nian asked.

Yan Zhu smiled apologetically. “I’m just talking about these depressing things. Does it ruin your image of the orphanage?”

“Not at all,” Shen Nian said sincerely. “I can hear the frustration of the financial crisis and your genuine care for the children. You were a good teacher.”

Yan Zhu blushed and shook her head. “Later, for some reason, the orphanage received a huge donation. I thought the wall would finally be fixed, but the director said…”

“Said what?”

Yan Zhu frowned. “I forgot. Maybe ‘it’s not needed’ or ‘it’s not necessary’? Either way, until I left, no one touched that wall.” Suddenly, her expression froze. She looked up at Shen Nian in shock. “I think I remember who you are!”

Shen Nian was stunned. “What?”

“Only one child in the orphanage ever got hurt because of that wall,” Yan Zhu said, her voice growing certain. “She had just been sent there and was very unstable, always trying to run away. Because the wall was half-collapsed, there was a gap. One day, she tried to climb out through it when no one was looking.”

Yan Zhu looked at Shen Nian with a dawning realization. “I remember now! That was you! The wall collapsed because it was rotten; it couldn’t even take the weight of a little girl. You fell and hit your head. The director and I were the ones who took you to the hospital!”

“Me?” Shen Nian asked for confirmation.

“Yes! You were always pretty, but back then you were always crying, your face covered in tears and snot, so it was hard to tell.”

Shen Nian gave a helpless smile. “Are you sure you aren’t mistaken? The girl you’re describing… was she sent there after you started working?”

Shen Nian remembered Mo Huai saying Yan Zhu had only started working there two months before Shen Nian was adopted.

“Yes,” Yan Zhu nodded. “Let me think… Oh! Shortly after that, you were adopted. A very fancy car came to pick you up. Everyone said you were going off to be a rich young lady!”

“But…” Shen Nian shook her head, her smile turning bitter. “I was abandoned as an infant. I should have grown up in the orphanage.”

“No, no!” Yan Zhu stared at her features. As her memories returned, she became more adamant. “You were already four or five years old when you were sent there. My colleagues and I were even discussing why such a big child was suddenly brought in.”

“Then you definitely have the wrong person.” Shen Nian looked down at the plum-shaped pastries on the table. She rubbed her temples and spoke in a low voice.

“When I was adopted by the Shen family… I wasn’t even three years old yet.”