When The Scheming Female Supporting Character Is Forced To Seduce The Female Lead - Chapter 9

When it came to the “pear blossom with dew” act, Zhao Qingdai was a master.

Her lashes quivered, and large tears spilled forth, rolling down her cheeks to her chin. As if startled by her own tears, she quickly wiped her face and turned away, leaving only faint sobs audible.

Du Jingmo placed a hand on her shoulder and gently straightened her posture. “If you don’t want to talk, I won’t force you. Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, Sister. I didn’t mean to do this,” she whimpered, her eyes rimmed in red. “I’ve really changed. I wasn’t trying to act pitiful.”

“I never thought you’d feel this way,” Du Jingmo said, gently wiping the tears from Zhao Qingdai’s cheeks with a tissue. “It’s okay to cry in front of me. I just…”

Her words of concern felt too raw, and she paused, unaccustomed to expressing emotions so openly. After a moment, she continued, “I just don’t want to see you upset.”

Especially upset because of something I did.

“If Sister says that, then I’m not upset at all,” Zhao Qingdai said, her tears turning into a smile as she leaned against Du Jingmo’s shoulder. “Just letting it out for a bit will make me feel better soon.”

Du Jingmo could feel her shoulder gradually growing damp.

In her memory, Zhao Qingdai had always been so mature, her tears silent and almost obedient.

The System was growing numb.

Its default reaction of a silly face was utterly inadequate for comprehending this situation. How could Zhao Qingdai, alone, have twisted a perfectly good romance novel into this mess?

Why is Du Jingmo, the calm and intelligent Female Lead from the original story, completely unable to discern such a basic green-tea manipulation?

Zhao Qingdai claimed she wasn’t pretending to be pitiful, and Du Jingmo actually believed her! She even thought this cup of tea was remarkably sensible and well-behaved!

Heavens above!

The System couldn’t possibly understand that human nature is inherently hypocritical. People are always exceptionally lenient toward those they favor and the things they favor.

Du Jingmo was no exception.

She had rarely shown such curiosity and concern, but since Zhao Qingdai didn’t elaborate, she didn’t press further.

She thought the matter was settled.

“You’re… the little girl from the Du family, aren’t you?”

A face strikingly similar to Zhao Qingdai’s appeared before Du Jingmo, momentarily disorienting her.

Seeing Du Jingmo’s silence, the woman grew nervous and anxious, wringing her hands. “I’m your Aunt Lan, the one who lived next door. My father-in-law and your grandfather were good friends, you know.”

She gestured, “When you were this tall, I used to visit your house and bring you gifts. You called me Aunt Lan. Do you remember?”

“I don’t remember,” Du Jingmo said.

Who could remember something so far back? But based on the woman’s account, she deduced her identity.

“You’re… Qingdai’s mother?”

Aunt Lan nodded. “Yes. I came here to find Qingdai. It’s easier now that you know her.”

Her eyes reddened, her face, still beautiful despite the passage of time, etched with worry and sorrow. “I originally wanted to go straight to Qingdai, but they told me she was sick and had been on leave for a long time. That’s why I had to come to you.”

Du Jingmo crossed her arms, her lips pressed into a thin line as she remained silent.

She realized she now understood why Zhao Qingdai had been upset yesterday.

Zhao Qingdai appeared quiet and unassuming, but she was sensitive and fiercely proud. She had never voluntarily mentioned anything about her family. However, gossip being what it is, even without prying, certain things inevitably reached Du Jingmo’s ears.

For example, when Aunt Lan left, she had cleaned out the family’s entire savings, including the money Zhao Qingdai had earned from part-time jobs and selling recyclables.

She hadn’t left her daughter any room to survive.

Du Jingmo only said “I don’t remember” from beginning to end, but her coldness and rejection were unmistakable. Aunt Lan grew even more awkward, forcing herself to ask, “Do you know where Qingdai is?”

Instead of answering, Du Jingmo countered, “How did you know she was studying at this university?”

The woman’s face stiffened, and she remained silent.

Du Jingmo pressed further, “Are you settled here, or just passing through?”

“…Settled,” Aunt Lan replied, fidgeting with the creases of her pants. “Yesterday, I saw her on the street, so I wanted to come see her.”

A wave of irritation surged through Du Jingmo.

So it was because of this woman after all.

“Why didn’t you go to her when you saw her back then? Why wait until today to come here?”

Aunt Lan’s mouth opened and closed, but she ultimately remained silent.

She couldn’t say that she hadn’t dared to approach her own daughter, even when she saw her, because her son was present.

“Xiao Du, I know you all think I’m no good. But you have a mother too. I beg you, please understand a mother’s feelings. Tell me where Qingdai is. Let me see my daughter, just this once. Will you?”

Du Jingmo was amused by this.

Aunt Lan had always been the untouchable flower on the high cliff, pampered and spoiled since childhood. This was the first time anyone had ever tried to guilt her with moral blackmail.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Lan, but I can’t understand your feelings,” she said with utmost sincerity. “I don’t have a mother who left home and slapped me twice. I simply can’t relate to your emotions.”

Aunt Lan’s expression abruptly changed.

Those two slaps she had given Zhao Qingdai had been a desperate, last-resort measure, and the thing she regretted most in her life.

The better her life became after she fled, the more the regret she had suppressed surged within her.

Whenever she saw her thriving son, she couldn’t help but recall Zhao Qingdai’s expression that day as she lay on the ground, staring up at her.

There was bewilderment, sorrow, and… hatred.

Over time, those two slaps evolved into two knives buried in her chest, twisting and stabbing inward.

“Aunt Lan, do you regret it?” Du Jingmo suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

Aunt Lan nodded involuntarily.

Du Jingmo twirled a strand of hair around her finger, her tone indifferent. “Do you regret abandoning Qingdai and leaving that day? Or do you regret the stain on your life, regretting giving birth to such a… shame?”

“What nonsense are you spouting?” The woman exploded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “That’s my daughter! What stain? What shame? Don’t you dare speak such filth here!”

“If that’s not it… then why did you hide when you saw her yesterday?” Du Jingmo glanced at her watch, her patience wearing thin.

Zhao Qingdai must have already prepared dinner by now.

If she didn’t go back, Zhao Qingdai would remain hungry. She had delayed too long, and when she returned, she’d probably find the girl anxiously waiting for her.

“The kindness you showed her was erased when you slapped her. She’s not a tool for you to ease your conscience. Don’t come back.”

Du Jingmo stepped forward, placing a hand on Aunt Lan’s shoulder. “You must have rebuilt your life and formed a new family by now. You wouldn’t want your current peaceful life to be disturbed, would you?”

Her voice and gesture were gentle, yet Aunt Lan sensed a veiled threat beneath them.

Aunt Lan lifted her head, meeting Du Jingmo’s pitch-black eyes. The corners of Du Jingmo’s lips curved upward, but there was no warmth in her gaze—only an unsettling darkness.

“Did you hear me clearly, Aunt Lan?”

“I told you, don’t come back.”

The woman nodded blankly, her heart trembling. A faint tremble crept into her lips, though she remained unaware of it.

Du Jingmo inwardly clicked her tongue, withdrew her hand, and left.

This woman had a face strikingly similar to Zhao Qingdai’s, yet a single glance at her was enough to inspire revulsion.

She checked her watch again, her frustration mounting. She hailed a taxi and hurried back home.

Just as she’d predicted, Zhao Qingdai had prepared dinner and was sitting on the sofa, her chin propped in her hands, her head tilted as she watched the door with a slightly resentful gaze.

But the moment she saw Du Jingmo, the resentment vanished, replaced by radiant delight that sparkled in her eyes.

The lingering irritation from Aunt Lan’s earlier words vanished, and Du Jingmo found her footsteps lightening unconsciously.

“Sister, why are you so late? The food is going to get cold,” Zhao Qingdai said, biting her lip. “Did something… hold you up?”

Caught off guard, Du Jingmo was gathering her words, trying to find a way to explain without upsetting Zhao Qingdai, when the girl spoke again:

“Did someone stop you to confess their feelings, delaying your return for dinner?”

“What nonsense is this?!” Du Jingmo exclaimed.

How does her mind work? she wondered. Why is she always thinking such bizarre things?

Seeing Zhao Qingdai’s blunt denial, Du Jingmo finally breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “I was just joking to lighten the mood.”

What had been weighing on her mind most recently was her confinement at home, her limited mobility preventing her from finding out about Du Jingmo’s situation at school.

No one knew better than she did how popular Du Jingmo was.

Yet she remained like the moon hanging high in the sky—cold, luminous, and untouchable. Most of her admirers didn’t even dare to strike up a conversation with her.

“Don’t pull such cold jokes next time,” Du Jingmo said, washing her hands and serving herself a bowl of rice, then filling one for Zhao Qingdai as well. “But I did run into someone. I’ll tell you after I finish eating.”

Spurred by her words, Zhao Qingdai unleashed her inner glutton, polishing off her bowl of rice in less than ten minutes.

Setting her chopsticks across the bowl, she sat up straight and wiped her mouth. “What is Sister trying to tell me? Can you tell me now?”

Du Jingmo: “……”

She pursed her lips, but Zhao Qingdai’s antics still made her chuckle. However, remembering that Zhao Qingdai’s mood might sour after hearing the news, her smile faded.

“I ran into Aunt Lan at the school gate today. She said she wanted to see you, but I didn’t let her come.”

Du Jingmo’s refusal had been decisive, but on the way home, she found herself second-guessing her actions. Wasn’t it Zhao Qingdai’s decision to see her or not?

“If you don’t want to see her, let’s pretend this never happened. If you do want to see her, I’ll help you contact her.”

Her words had barely faded when Zhao Qingdai’s face visibly paled, the color draining completely from her lips.

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