When the Male Lead Finds Out I’m the Transmigrator Trying to Win Him Over - Chapter 19

He Xitong kept her word and was the first to hold the baby.

That tiny bundle lay in her arms, crying faintly. The skin wasn’t wrinkled anymore—you could already see the baby’s delicate features.

She glanced around, but not a single smile could be forced onto her face.

In her imagination, Yun Ruo’s delivery day wasn’t supposed to look like this.

Outside the delivery room, a crowd of relatives and friends would be waiting, everyone who cared about Yun Ruo anxiously keeping her in their thoughts. Meng Tingmo would be inside the delivery room, holding Yun Ruo’s hand, reassuring her not to be afraid, telling her he was right there with her.

She and Yun Jia would wait obediently outside, occasionally checking the time and teasing each other. When the delivery room doors finally opened, they’d rush in first to hold the baby—beating Meng Tingmo’s parents to it.

But their concern would still be for Yun Ruo. They’d look at the baby, then hurry to her side, praising her for her strength, telling her she’d done so well, that she was a brave mother. They’d remind her that she wasn’t alone anymore—that there was one more person in the world who would love her.

He Xitong’s hands trembled slightly as she held the baby.

The child was here now. But where was Yun Ruo?

Meng’s mother walked over, wanting to take the baby. He Xitong suddenly turned to the side, clutching the infant tightly.

“Where is Meng Tingmo?!”

Meng’s mother’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she couldn’t get a single word out.

The night passed, and the first rays of dawn broke through. It was a bright, sunny day.

Hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Turning the corner, Meng Tingmo’s shoulder slammed into the wall, but he didn’t even notice the pain.

The operating room came into view. He Xitong sat there holding the baby, her gaze icy cold as she looked at him.

Meng Tingmo rushed forward. “Where’s Yun Ruo?”

It was July. The sun blazed high, the heat climbing higher and higher. Villagers stayed holed up at home with fans or air conditioners, unwilling to step outside.

At the far end of the village, in two small, simple houses, Yun Ruo lay quietly on her bed.

She had already been back for a few days.

Back in the world where she was born.

Three days earlier, she had fallen and been rushed to the hospital. Half-conscious, she overheard the doctor say the child couldn’t be saved. Her heart turned to ashes, and she felt she couldn’t go on any longer.

But in that critical moment, her system reconnected with her.

Strategy System No. 85792.

It was a new system. Eight years ago, on its very first mission, it had found Yun Ruo. The two of them—one person, one system—struggled together for five years before finally completing the strategy task. Only they knew how much hardship it had taken.

After leaving Yun Ruo, the system went on to find its next host. The second mission was easier; it only took three years. Once that mission was done, the kindhearted system couldn’t help but think of its very first host, the girl who had accompanied it for five long years.

Was Yun Ruo living the happy life she deserved? Curious and on break after its mission, the system came back to check on her.

But what it saw nearly frightened it to death.

Its host was on the brink of dying. The baby was still being resuscitated. Her friend was crying her heart out outside the operating room. Her younger brother had gotten into a car accident on the way. And her husband…

Damn it, her husband was still in another province, unable to come back!

It knew it! Men’s words were nothing but lies—utterly unreliable!

Look what they had done to its poor host—reduced her to such misery.

System 85792’s circuits ached with grief. It immediately checked the logs. The deeper it dug, the more furious it became. Another system had violated protocol, invading this world that had already been tagged by 85792, maliciously binding itself to Jiang Yufei—one of the key figures influenced by Yun Ruo—in order to use her to rack up achievements and climb the system rankings.

It had to report that system!

…But before reporting, it had to make sure Yun Ruo was safe.

So it brought Yun Ruo back to her original world.

Back to before it all began—when she was just a freshman, home for summer break.

Two months from now, she would die in a car accident on the way to campus registration.

That wasn’t the main concern, though. The system wasn’t worried about that. Right now, what mattered most was that its host hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in three days—just lying there on the bed.

“Ruo Ruo, are you okay?” The mechanical voice carried a hint of liveliness. Every system had a personality; most cultivated the “path of detachment,” avoiding too much interaction with their hosts. But not this one. It liked to eat, drink, and have fun with its host.

“It’s been three days. At least say something. Yell, cry, do anything! Just don’t give up on yourself, sob sob.”

Yun Ruo’s eyelashes fluttered. Finally, she spoke her first words since returning.

“I…”

System 85792 held its breath—if it had lungs.

What? You’re going to say you’re in pain? That you’re falling apart?

“I… I’m hungry.”

System 85792: ?

Yun Ruo blinked. She wanted to break down, wanted to scream hysterically. But after three days without food or water, her body had no strength left. Even sitting up was hard.

“Er Er, I’m hungry.”

“Er Er” was the name they had come up with together. 85792 was cheerful and curious about everything. The very first thing it did after binding with her years ago was ask for a nice name.

But Yun Ruo wasn’t good at naming things. Her own name had been chosen by a village scholar at her grandmother’s request. So she simply played with the numbers in 85792.

The last digit was 2—so “Er Er.” But “Er Er” sounded too silly. She refined it into “Er Er” (尔尔), meaning “nothing more, just so.”

The system loved it.

“Don’t worry about me,” Yun Ruo said, forcing herself to get up. Thankfully, the system had at least switched on the electric fan for her. Otherwise, she’d have collapsed from heatstroke already.

She leaned against the wall, stumbled to the kitchen, gulped down two bowls of water, then chewed on a pack of biscuits. Half an hour later, she finally had a bit of strength.

After resting, she walked around the house. This was her home: a few shabby rooms, just for her.

Her family was all gone, buried on the hill behind the house. She used to go visit their graves whenever she had the time.

The house was poor, utterly poor.

Washing her hair, bathing, tidying up—the little house felt strangely unfamiliar. She had decorated it herself years ago, yet now, everything felt out of place.

“What are you thinking about?” the system asked.

Blow-drying her hair with the fan, Yun Ruo shook her head. She wasn’t sure. A jumble of things.

“It’s like living half a lifetime, only to look back and realize it’s all become nothing but wind.”

System: …

“You’re not about to shave your head and become a nun, are you?”

“Pfft.” Yun Ruo laughed, running her fingers through her hair. But the old fan had run too long, its motor burning out, and it suddenly gave up with a whiff of smoke.

The heat swelled again. Yun Ruo sat for two minutes, then sighed. She definitely hadn’t transcended everything.

“It’s too hot.”

She didn’t want to die of heatstroke.

So, in the sweltering summer sun, Yun Ruo grabbed her umbrella and headed to town to buy a new fan.

Yun Ruo had vanished.

Three months had passed since the day of delivery, but Meng Tingmo remembered it as if it were yesterday.

Once his phone regained signal, he saw dozens of missed calls—his parents, He Xitong, Jiang Yufei, even Han Qi. If so many people were involved, it could only mean one thing: Yun Ruo was in trouble.

He sped through the night, racing back from the neighboring province. But he was still too late. He only saw the newborn child. Yun Ruo herself was gone.

Everyone’s memories of that night were strangely blurred. The doctors only said they had done their best. When asked where the mother went, they claimed she had been discharged.

Discharged—straight from the operating table? Who could believe that?

Yet there was no trace of Yun Ruo anywhere.

Everyone assumed the same thing: she had been too disappointed, too hurt. She didn’t want to stay in that place of sorrow anymore, so she had gone elsewhere to recover.

Meng Tingmo searched frantically for a month, then recalled all his people.

He told himself he shouldn’t look anymore.

Her disappearance only proved one thing: Yun Ruo had been aided by a system. The dreams he’d had were real.

Yun Ruo only cared about profit, not love. Hadn’t he wished for her to leave him all along? Now she had. He got what he wanted.

His life didn’t need Yun Ruo.

And as for this ache in his heart—

That was just residue, a lingering trace of her influence. In time, it would fade.

Yun Ruo bought herself a new fan and felt a flicker of hope.

“If my heart were truly dead, I would’ve stayed in bed, let the heat roast me alive, and died that way.”

The system found that death too torturous.

“Exactly. That’s why I didn’t dare.”

She washed her clothes, hung them out to dry. In this heat, they’d be done in under two hours. She only had three sets of summer clothes, worn on rotation.

“Life was definitely easier in that other world,” the system probed. “At least you weren’t short of money.”

In that world, Yun Ruo had inherited her parents’ estate. She could earn money herself, too. And on top of that, there was Meng Tingmo. She never once went hungry.

“Mm.” Yun Ruo nodded naturally. “Yes, it was better there. I had so many clothes, I could wear something new every day.”

Of course, chasing Meng Tingmo while attending classes and caring for Yun Jia hadn’t been easy either.

“Then… do you miss it?”

“I haven’t thought about it.” She finished hanging the laundry, put the basin away, and set the new fan up outside with an extension cord.

She didn’t want to sit boxed up by four walls. Out here, she could breathe a little easier.

Neighbors passing by greeted her. Yun Ruo smiled back—after all, she’d lived here nearly twenty years. Everyone knew everyone.

“Not taking a summer job?” they’d ask.

“No,” Yun Ruo replied.

Why bother? In two months, she’d be dead anyway. Better to lie flat early.

So she let go of everything, refusing to think about that other world. By day, the heat kept her indoors. By night, she wandered up the hills under the moonlight.

She had once been afraid of the dark, never daring to step outside at night. But now, she feared nothing.

“Growing older makes you braver?” the system teased.

“No. I’ve got you with me.”

The system beamed. That was called “emotional value.”

But after the joy came worry. Yun Ruo looked fine on the surface, but since returning, she hadn’t had a single good night’s sleep.

Not that she didn’t want to. Nightmares kept waking her, every time.

The system knew it had to bring it up eventually.

“Running away won’t help.” One night, as Yun Ruo lay on a hillside watching the moon, the system finally spoke.

“Do you miss that other world? The people you cared about there—even… your child?”

They had never talked about it directly. The system had tried to hint at it, but Yun Ruo always avoided the subject.

That other world, those people?

Yun Ruo stared unblinkingly at the sky until her eyes stung. She closed them, covering her face with her hand. The world went dark.

After a long silence, faint sobs slipped through—quiet, weak. Even crying, she held herself back.

Tears seeped through her fingers.

It wasn’t that Yun Ruo didn’t want to think about it. She just didn’t dare.

Because the moment she did, sorrow surged like a flood, drowning her completely, sealing every escape.

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