Transmigrated Into the Stand-In of the Tragic Novel’s Heroine - Chapter 11

At this time, the students at Gantan High School were all in the cafeteria. Aside from teachers who didn’t have evening classes, there was almost no one walking around.

The drizzling rain fell on the ground, splashing up ripple after ripple. Since Chang Yishao didn’t move, Xie Qingtang didn’t feel right to keep walking forward, as the umbrella was in her hand.

He Yanjin in front looked like a drenched chicken. Her assistant rushed over, holding an umbrella to shield her from the wind and rain, but He Yanjin pushed her away. It was as if only by being in the wind and rain could she fully display her vulnerability.

Xie Qingtang was stunned by He Yanjin’s “idiotic” action. She stretched out her hand to catch the rainwater—a thread of coldness spread from her palm, and she couldn’t imagine how “comfortable” it would be to be completely soaked. She shivered. Suddenly, Chang Yishao gripped her wrist, pulling her hand back from the rain.

Chang Yishao blinked, not even looking at He Yanjin, and said softly, “Let’s go back.”

Xie Qingtang: “…” Was she the one refusing to go back? It was clearly Chang Yishao who had stopped walking, right? Of course, she only complained about this a little in her mind.

The hand Chang Yishao used to hold the umbrella was very steady; at least it wouldn’t be like when Xie Qingtang held it herself, which always left one side soaked.

He Yanjin shivered in the rain, even struggling with her assistant for a while, but this scene didn’t leave any trace in Chang Yishao’s mind. Xie Qingtang followed Chang Yishao’s steps and quickly crossed the road. She looked back at He Yanjin, her eyes holding a trace of pity.

The female lead’s situation was truly miserable to this extent.

“Sister He?” Xiao Yi, the assistant, looked at He Yanjin with worry. She held the umbrella and took a step forward. He Yanjin finally stopped refusing. Xiao Yi knew He Yanjin had returned to her alma mater for a visit, but this scene was completely different from what she had imagined. She thought He Yanjin would be sitting in the office talking to her former homeroom teacher, not standing in the rain looking at a strange, beautiful woman.

Thinking of that woman, Xiao Yi’s heart fluttered. She knew He Yanjin’s girlfriend was the eldest daughter of the Zhou family, so what was the relationship between the woman who had just walked by and Sister He? Why did Sister He look so lost?

While Xiao Yi was lost in thought, the phone in her bag rang. He Yanjin casually wiped herself with a tissue and quickly returned to the car. Raindrops streamed down her clothes, soaking the seat and leaving winding watermarks, but He Yanjin didn’t care at all. She answered the phone and heard Zhou Yunmeng’s voice. Thinking of Chang Yishao, who hadn’t even spared her a glance just now, a thorn seemed to be stuck in her heart.

“The company has made arrangements. You can go after a few days of rest. As for the scripts, someone will send them to your assistant. You can select one yourself and see which one you prefer.” Zhou Yunmeng’s voice was very gentle, just like her personality, like a cloud. No matter how He Yanjin acted, she wouldn’t get angry, which was somewhat similar to Chang Yishao back then. But it was only a little. The Chang Yishao in her memory was unrestrained and spirited. When did she become so calm? He Yanjin couldn’t recall.

He Yanjin gave a low “Mm,” trying to keep her tone from sounding too impatient.

Zhou Yunmeng on the other end didn’t seem to notice and gently instructed a few more things before hanging up.

The car sped along the road. He Yanjin looked through the window at the gradually receding tall buildings. She knew where Chang Yishao lived, but she couldn’t go to her door again.

Why couldn’t Chang Yishao forgive her? And why was the person next to her similar in appearance to her? He Yanjin’s eyes twitched; she felt a little panicked.

On the other side.

Chang Yishao and Xie Qingtang, walking leisurely, also returned home.

Chang Yishao folded the umbrella, turned, and looked at Xie Qingtang, asking what she wanted for dinner.

This time of day always involved a similar, unchanging conversation.

“Whatever,” Xie Qingtang replied carelessly. She didn’t look at Chang Yishao’s expression, turned, and went into her room, preparing to take a hot shower. Although the water hadn’t soaked her, she still felt uncomfortable.

Chang Yishao watched Xie Qingtang’s retreating figure disappear.

She slowly wiped her hands, not rushing into the kitchen, but instead called Chang Hua, who was a man of her uncle’s generation.

Chang Hua was the only artist in the Chang family who worked in the music industry and was now considered successful. When He Yanjin debuted back then, she also received Chang Hua’s help and encouragement. Currently, most of the online attacks against Xie Qingtang were about her singing, saying she was delusional to try and follow He Yanjin’s path and didn’t know her own limits. How could such comments not have He Yanjin’s tacit approval? Would He Yanjin mind if Xie Qingtang walked a path similar to hers?

Chang Hua only had two sons and, like the rest of the Chang family, dearly loved Chang Yishao, this girl. After hearing Chang Yishao’s description, he readily agreed without a second thought. However, Chang Yishao also didn’t want Chang Hua to ruin his accumulated reputation. She pondered for a moment and then smiled, saying, “Uncle, I’ll send you the music score later.”

Chang Hua naturally said that was fine.

After solving this matter, Chang Yishao let out a long sigh of relief, as if a great weight had been suddenly lifted from her heart.

Rainwater hit the window, winding and flowing, blurring the world outside.

Chang Yishao’s mood brightened, and the smile between her brows was almost impossible to suppress.

During dinner, Chang Yishao didn’t say much.

But at this moment, she suddenly spoke, “Are you free later? Let’s record a song.”

Xie Qingtang raised an eyebrow. She looked suspiciously at Chang Yishao, her eyes filled with slight confusion.

“Just record it with your phone at home,” Chang Yishao added.

She still didn’t explain why, and Xie Qingtang was too lazy to ask. Maybe this was just one of Chang Yishao’s peculiar habits.

It wasn’t until she was sitting at their usual “work desk,” looking at the stern-faced Chang Yishao, that a sense of absurdity arose in Xie Qingtang’s heart.

After eating, her stalled brain finally started working.

Chang Yishao held her phone, and as soon as she looked up, her eyes met Xie Qingtang’s searching gaze. She blinked and finally offered an explanation: “I have a friend who wants to hear your song.”

Oh—she has a friend—

“Which one?” Xie Qingtang didn’t waste words and asked directly.

Chang Yishao was silent for a moment. She had only accidentally clicked on a recorded snippet by someone else and didn’t know what Xie Qingtang knew how to sing. “Up to you,” she replied.

Xie Qingtang looked at her skeptically, tapping a rhythm lightly on her thigh with her fingers.

“…Not seen him again, weeping streams of tears. Now seeing him again, laughing and talking…” $textcircled{1}$

Chang Yishao’s eyes showed a hint of surprise when she heard Xie Qingtang’s lyrics. After the song was fully recorded, she finally asked, “Did you compose it yourself?”

Xie Qingtang met Chang Yishao’s gaze and denied, “No.” In a certain work-related world, she had known a poetry collector. Trying to restore Máng using modern vocabulary was too difficult. She could only adapt it according to current conventions—so, strictly speaking, the composer was indeed not her, but the common people of ancient times.

Everyone has their little secrets, and Chang Yishao didn’t plan to pry.

She just asked one more time, “Do you really not need me to help you find a record company?” If the previous time was a test to see how she differed from He Yanjin, this time it was a genuine inquiry.

Xie Qingtang shook her head, her answer consistent with before.

She had already walked that path of glamour and success once and didn’t want to do it again in this “retirement” world.

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