Ji Shuping stewed over her mood for a while before slowly typing.
【Sorry, I probably won’t have time to read it today.】
The reply came quickly.
+_+: 【It’s okay.jpg】
It seemed like he only knew how to communicate with stickers, aside from that, he had nothing else to say.
Ji Shu then tidied up and prepared to go to sleep.
Unfortunately, the young duke, who had slept enough during the day, was full of energy at this hour. A new message popped up at the top of the chat window.
02:30
【Regarding your apology for the mistake during the day, I want to see sincerity.】
…Sincerity? What kind of sincerity did Lu Mingxi want to see?
Ji Shu racked her brains but, in the end, resigned herself to getting out of bed. She sat at her desk, opened her Mac, and began writing a self-reflection report.
The first two paragraphs lavishly praised the prominence and long history of the ducal family. The next two deeply reflected on the mistakes she had made in middle school, expressed her guilt, and promised never to repeat them. The final paragraph briefly summarized the main point: in the future, she would obey the young duke’s commands and expressed her sincere and heartfelt devotion.
By the time she finished the little essay, it was nearly 3:30 a.m.
Half-asleep and barely coherent, she accidentally sent the document meant for Lu Mingxi to Ji Cun, but fortunately, she retracted it immediately. Several minutes later, Lu Mingxi’s side finally showed that he had read it.
But he only replied with “Read.”
Ji Shu couldn’t figure out his intentions and felt somewhat uneasy. She wasn’t sure if this counted as a sincere gesture. Exhausted from staying up almost all night and having had a persistent low fever for several days, her throat was a little hoarse, and her head throbbed faintly.
She dizzily stood up and rummaged through the cabinet to find the cold medicine the school doctor had prescribed, planning to go downstairs to make a cup.
She opened the door quietly and headed toward the stairs.
Suddenly, she froze.
A faint light spilled through the crack of Ji Nanlin’s study door, and she could hear two people talking.
“…This isn’t good, leaving Xiao Shu home alone. If you go on a business trip for ten days or half a month without coming back, the house will be so cold and empty. Xiao Shu will feel so lonely…”
It was He Ying’s hesitant voice.
“It’s because I’m often not at home that I don’t feel at ease letting you live here. The villa I arranged in the suburbs already has two housekeepers and a driver, and the nearest hospital is less than twenty minutes away by car. The environment there is better, suitable for you to rest and take care of yourself. Leaving you alone with her at home… I don’t even know what might happen.”
Ji Nanlin lowered his voice, and the certainty in his tone left no room for refusal.
He Ying’s voice weakened: “Xiao Shu isn’t that kind of child. Over all these years, even though my relationship with her hasn’t really progressed, she would never do anything to hurt me…”
Ji Nanlin seemed to laugh angrily. His voice tightened, tinged with suppressed irritation:
“I know my child better than anyone! You’ve only been with her for a few years. I’ve watched her grow up since she was little. That kid has always been unpredictable! Do you even know what trouble she caused at school just a few days ago? Not just recently, back then, when her mother left, she didn’t shed a single tear…”
The cold light seeping through the crack in the door seemed to tremble along with his low accusations. By the end, his arrogance gradually vanished, leaving only endless disappointment and indifference in his tone:
“I’ve already given up on that child. Her grades are mediocre, and she’ll never learn to be tactful. Back then, I went to great lengths to send her to Flandre, and even now she hasn’t brought me any reward… From now on, I can’t support her in any way. Her future is up to her own luck.”
When Ji Shu came back to her senses, she had already staggered back to her room.
She turned and closed the door. In an instant, an overwhelming sense of suffocation gripped her, dragging her downward. She had difficulty breathing, the drowsiness had long vanished, and the headache was dulled by the tight pain in her chest.
Was this a residue of the original host’s emotions? Ji Shu couldn’t tell at first.
Because they were so alike, seeing her was like seeing herself. And the original host’s future seemed to mirror her own.
Ji Shu took several quick breaths through her nose. She placed the empty water cup, left over from the medicine she hadn’t yet taken, on the desk and went into the bathroom. She cupped cold water on her face, trying to use the external stimulus to dissipate her painful emotions.
She lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror. A pale face, a pointed chin, and a pair of dark, deep-set eyes. Stray hairs stuck to her nearly translucent skin along her cheeks and forehead, revealing the bluish veins beneath. Cold water droplets slid down her face, one by one.
From the appearance alone, the two faces didn’t resemble each other at all, but their temperaments were astonishingly similar.
The phone “dinged,” forcing her to pull herself away from her thoughts.
Ji Shu blinked as droplets slid off her long, thick eyelashes.
She left the bathroom, walked to her desk, and picked up her phone.
It was a reply from Ji Cun.
Earlier, when she had left the room, he had seen the message she retracted and sent a reply. Seeing that she hadn’t responded for a while, he sent another.
【What’s wrong?】
03:59
【It must be early morning there now. Still not asleep?】
This time, his tone was no longer as cold as the previous single-question-mark message.
Ji Shu had no impression in her mind of this brother who existed only in the original setting. She had initially assumed that he was cold and distant and that his relationship with the original host was poor, but she didn’t expect him to actually care about a sister so far away on the other side of the ocean.
She held her phone, thinking about how to reply, when the screen displayed, “The other party is typing…” for a while. Then Ji Cun sent a new message.
【Were you bullied at school?】
Ji Shu froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
The message quickly turned green with “Read”, even if she had wanted to pretend she hadn’t seen it, she couldn’t.
Ji Shu didn’t know how Ji Cun had come to that conclusion. Had he seen the message she had accidentally sent earlier? But she had retracted it immediately, unless he had been staring at the chat, there was no way he could have seen the document marked only as “Self-Reflection Report.”
Had he simply inferred it from the three words, “Self-Reflection Report”?
Ji Shu had no way of knowing. She remained silent, staring at the keyboard screen for a long while before slowly typing, letter by letter:
【No.】
She added, 【I’m fine.】
It took him five or six minutes to reply.
【Go to bed early.】
Ji Shu quietly typed “Mm.”
The pale yellow desk lamp remained on. Outside, the night was as dark as ink, impenetrable. With the tick-tock of the clock, the night gradually faded until the faint light of dawn appeared.
Ji Shu sat quietly until daybreak.
The next morning, Ji Shu packed her things early.
She sat at the breakfast table eating while turning on the TV to watch the morning foreign-language news. The volume was low, but she still startled He Ying when the latter came out dragging her suitcase.
“Xiao Shu… you’re up so early today.” He Ying felt an inexplicable pang of guilt. Her eyes flickered as she forced a smile. The driver, wearing gloves, took the suitcase and carried it out.
Ji Shu’s reply was calm and neutral: “Mm.”
He Ying felt awkward and slightly embarrassed but tried to explain: “Your father booked a convalescent facility for me to rest, so I probably won’t be living at home starting today. I’ll likely be back around the end of the year.”
“Okay.”
“Your father will probably be out on business too, so he won’t be home often. It’ll be tough for you, Xiao Shu, being on your own during this time…”
Before she could finish, Ji Shu stood up and pulled out her chair, the scrape of wood against the floor sharp and short.
She wiped the corner of her lips, expressionless.
“I’m done eating.” She said this as she walked out, the housekeeper carrying her schoolbag quickly following behind.
Ji Shu left before He Ying, and as she passed, she didn’t turn her head, only saying, “Safe on the road.”
He Ying stood frozen, still processing, and watched the girl’s figure enter a high-end car parked at the front of the villa.
The window slowly rolled up, and her face disappeared from view.
Inside the car, Ji Shu looked unwell. Although she wasn’t particularly sleepy, her head was splitting, and a low fever lingered, gradually eroding her immunity.
She took some painkillers from her schoolbag and swallowed them with warm water. By the time she arrived at Flandre, she felt some relief, and her complexion improved slightly.
However, upon reaching her class, Ji Shu instinctively sensed that Lu Mingxi was not in a good mood today.
He played with his phone with a cold expression, ignoring the flattery of the followers around him.
Ji Shu quietly approached her seat, but before she could sit down, she received a new order.
This time, he didn’t send a message or speak directly. Instead, he had his group of followers relay the task: she was to go to the campus convenience store and buy something he needed.
The convenience store wasn’t far, a quick round trip would take about ten minutes. What puzzled everyone was that this errand, usually handled by the young duke’s close followers, somehow fell to her today.
Soon, it became apparent that Ji Shu’s errand frequency was unusually high.
They didn’t give her a full list of items, instead, they sent her to the store repeatedly. Every time she returned, they claimed she had bought the wrong thing and sent her out again.
Lu Mingxi appeared completely indifferent, not even touching the items she bought.
In just one morning, Ji Shu had made at least ten trips to the convenience store.
Her silent figure moved alone through the corridors. By the end of the morning, almost everyone in the neighboring classes recognized her, some curious and others astonished by her strange behavior.
Finally, the morning classes ended. Ji Shu packed her bag to head to the cafeteria, but a figure appeared at her desk once again.
“Hey, you bought the wrong thing,” a male follower said with a grin, blocking her way. “The young duke wanted the red wine flavor Pocky, not chocolate. Go get it again.”
Seeing that Ji Shu didn’t move, he kicked her desk impatiently and urged, “Don’t wait for lunch break. Go now!”
It was Friday, the last school day of the week. Once today was over, she could finally rest.
Ji Shu kept her head down, murmuring a vague, “Got it,” before turning and dully leaving the classroom.
Lu Mingxi watched her figure go and only then, with an unreadable expression, put his phone down.
Xie Zhoulin had finished arranging the duties for the day. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked over slowly, his expression indifferent, his eyes carrying a hint of “this is nothing new”: “Did the duke look for you last night?”
Lu Mingxi didn’t even bother lifting his eyelids. He leaned back in his chair irritably, long legs propped high on the desk, and tossed his phone to Xie Zhoulin.
Xie Zhoulin picked up the phone and saw the chat between him and the duke on LINE. He flipped through a few pages, exited the chat, and glanced at another pinned conversation.
The note simply read “Ji,” and the other side had sent a document. Lu Mingxi’s final reply was just 【Read】.
Xie Zhoulin calmly returned to the chat with the duke and handed the phone back to Lu Mingxi.
“You saw her attitude, right?” Lu Mingxi’s usually teasing eyes were now filled with frustration and helplessness. His jaw was tight. “She didn’t leave me any room to negotiate at all.”
Xie Zhoulin said, “Being asked to help set up the birthday venue is a good thing. At least the duke values you.”
Lu Mingxi sneered. “She doesn’t value me. She’s still trying to communicate with Lotus through me, haven’t you noticed she hasn’t spoken to Cheng Anyu in two months? She called me home just to find a reason to smooth things over with the Cheng family and steer the media narrative.”
Xie Zhoulin nodded once. “Since you already know that…”
“Even if I know—” Lu Mingxi kicked the desk aside, his eyes burning with all the suppressed anger of the morning. He lowered his voice and forced out,
“All those years of being ignored, I can’t just overlook it.”
Xie Zhoulin tilted his head deliberately. A few boys nearby, almost scared out of their wits, hurried forward to set the overturned desk back in place.
“The duke’s actions are reasonable. The reconciliation between the Lu and Cheng families benefits you the most. She’s considering your future,” Xie Zhoulin said. “Smoothing the path ahead of you, that’s her goal.”
“You know that before school started she asked me to keep an eye on you at school. That shows she still cares. She just has too much to handle. Even so, you are the sole heir to the title. No matter her attitude, that fact cannot change.” Xie Zhoulin tapped the desk with his hand.
“You understand that, don’t you?”
Lu Mingxi paused, thought for a moment, and calmed down slightly.
He tilted his head, glanced at him sidelong, and smiled. “So you can say things like this now?”
“You have to hear some truth sometimes,” Xie Zhoulin said, taking off his glasses and preparing to leave the classroom. “Otherwise, who knows how many innocent people will be affected by your anger.”
“…” Lu Mingxi stood for a moment before processing what Xie Zhoulin meant. He said in disbelief, “You think I’m taking it out on Ji Shu?”
Xie Zhoulin said nothing. He still had a lot of student council work waiting after lunch, so he simply walked out without answering.
Lu Mingxi strode forward angrily, taking two or three steps at a time. “Running errands for me is something everyone fights to do, something you can’t even beg for! Didn’t you see how envious everyone was of her? —Of course, I admit, the self-reflection report she wrote hit all my nerves, making my mood last night even worse…”
Xie Zhoulin ignored him, checking his watch while mentally organizing the afternoon’s work, walking forward and leaving Lu Mingxi’s voice far behind.
At that moment, a classmate suddenly appeared at the corner at the end of the stairs, panting heavily.
He was holding something and ran toward them, shouting loudly: “Yo… Young Duke, Young Duke!!”
He rushed past Xie Zhoulin like a gust of wind, sweat pouring down his face, and reached the classroom doorway, gripping the frame and gasping for breath.
Lu Mingxi stopped, stepped back a few paces, and frowned in annoyance. “What is it?”
“Ji Shu… she…” the boy could hardly catch his breath, “she’s gone!!”
Lu Mingxi paused, the anger in his eyes replaced by a spark of interest. He raised an eyebrow and curled his lips into a smile. “Oh? She finally couldn’t take it and ran off?”
A few of the followers came up cautiously. “That shouldn’t happen. Does she even have the nerve to do that?”
“Her things are still in the classroom. How could she sneak out early?”
“Who dares stand up to the Young Duke?”
The boy looked terrified. “N-No!”
He held out his hand, palm open.
In it was a box of red wine-flavored Pocky, its corner squashed, and a phone.
Lu Mingxi recognized the phone immediately. It had no case or wallpaper, only a complex numeric password.
He sent messages to its owner, watching her scurry around carrying out his orders, thoroughly enjoying it.
The boy wiped the sweat from his forehead, stammering incoherently: “I just came back from the cafeteria and happened to see her coming out of the convenience store. Before she even got into the elevator, a few girls intercepted her in the hallway around the corner. Her things fell on the floor… By the time I ran over to pick them up, their shadows were gone. I ran up several flights of stairs and couldn’t see them anywhere, so I came straight to find you…”
Xie Zhoulin, walking at the front, unconsciously stopped in his tracks.
He frowned, feeling inexplicably restless.
His carefully planned afternoon schedule had once again been disrupted. He had no choice but to abandon the original plan and reorganize the afternoon’s tasks.
But before that could happen…
After a brief silence behind him, a somewhat untimely, scornful laugh came.
“…Ha.”
The air immediately tensed.
Following that was a dark, cold question:
“Where’s Jiang Zhaoming?”
The few followers instantly panicked, stammering: “He… he just went to deliver something to the C-section special admissions class. He… should be back soon…”
“Wait for him to return, and have him bring a few people to search from the top floor down.”
The voice was icy.
Xie Zhoulin turned and saw the young duke’s eyes darken. The furrow between his brows held suppressed anger, and a cold smile curled at the corners of his lips. He passed by Xie Zhoulin and strode forward.
The followers behind him trailed, drenched in sweat, not daring to make a sound.
“I really want to see who’s foolish enough to run straight into my sights,” a disdainful, arrogant snicker, emanating from his throat, accompanied his footsteps and vanished down the corridor.
“…How dare they touch my things.”