Chapter 3: The Tragic Best Friend and a Spy’s Dilemma

A warm late-summer breeze drifted in through the window.Qian Surou turned to face the wind, her hand brushing through the pink strands of hair that clung to her shoulder, causing the collar of her thin shirt beneath her apron to flutter gently.

She rested her elbows on the marble windowsill, her nose tilting slightly downwards. ‘This was probably Susu’s last time wearing her high school uniform,’ Ji Yushu mused.

A whispered murmur, laced with a hint of a sob, reached her ears. “I feel a little… reluctant, you know.”

Her nose felt as though it had been stuffed with wasabi, and two trails of tears streaked her face—a genuinely heartbroken reaction that required little acting.

Even if she only intended to fulfill her role as a best friend, the heartbreak still needed to be conveyed; such was her character’s persona.

Should she appear too indifferent, she might incur the punishment foretold by that mysterious voice.

Qian Surou understood this well; it was akin to telling oneself to ‘do better next time’ after failing a crucial exam—she was far from as composed as she wished to be.

In moments of intermittent distraction, Qian Surou found herself seeking comfort in the thought that she was now a beautiful girl within a game, and, as the latter type of best friend (the goddess-like confidante rather than the comedic one), her attributes were already perfected.

Any other person reincarnated in her shoes would likely have been secretly overjoyed. It was no exaggeration to say that if she desired it, she would never lack for girlfriends.

Never forgetting to maintain her act, Qian Surou haphazardly wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, used deep breaths to mask the lingering sob in her voice, and then, with her mouth slightly open and eyes closed, she offered the same smile as before.

“Xiao Ji, I truly hope you meet someone you like.” ‘Rather than someone like me, who only likes you one-sidedly.’

As Qian Surou spoke, she reached for her hand-drawn painting. “This… I had originally intended to give it to Xiao Ji. Now, I think I’ll keep it for myself as a memento.”

Whether genuinely overcome with sorrow or simply having cried too intensely, she suddenly felt a wave of dizziness as she turned, stumbling. Upon opening her eyes again, she found herself cradled in Xiao Ji’s arms.

Experiencing tenderness born of pity was an indispensable part of being the tragic best friend character. Qian Surou resolved to hug her even tighter.

And perhaps add a sniffle for good measure. ‘Only then would her persona be truly convincing!’ Knowing the game’s outcome—that the heroine would fall for someone else, and she herself was merely a fleeting passerby—there was no need to deliberately maintain distance.

Yet, an unforeseen incident suddenly occurred: a small, flustered girl was standing at the art room doorway, having appeared from seemingly nowhere, and an awkward atmosphere instantly permeated the air.

Ji Yushu quickly righted Qian Surou’s posture and released her embrace, eager to prevent the unexpected intruder from developing any peculiar misunderstandings.

On a day when most students were absent from school, inside an art room that should have been locked, two individuals, glistening with sweat, were locked in an embrace.

The current scene readily evoked the blush-inducing, passionate encounters often found in romance novels.

Qian Surou, maintaining her character’s facade, displayed an expression of both regret and internal conflict, making it difficult to discern whether it was genuine emotion or mere acting.

Her hand hovered in the air, seemingly reaching out to grasp something, as her gaze lingered on her Xiao Ji for a prolonged moment before slowly shifting towards the unwelcome guest. ‘Strange, I haven’t seen this girl before.’

The girl was dressed in the summer uniform of Linhua Girls’ Academy High School: a khaki short-sleeved sailor top with a white collar, paired with a light grey plaid skirt.

As her necktie was unfastened, her grade level could not be determined by its color.

Qian Surou, being the former head of the art club, had attended this year’s orientation and remembered all the new members’ faces; none of them were this small girl.

The lower grades had already begun their holidays, leaving only Ji Yushu and her teammates to continue their track and field training, aiming to represent Duyou University in upcoming sports competitions.

Incidentally, Linhua Girls’ Academy High School was an affiliated school of Duyou University, a top-tier institution that had originated as Linhua University Department and still maintained its status as a women’s college.

Ji Yushu, benefiting from bonus points for her athletic prowess, had a clear advantage for direct admission to Duyou University, which was only to be expected.

However, she had chosen not to take the easier path of a sports student; instead, while maintaining respectable academic grades, she had auditioned for the drama department.

She was, truly, a person as radiant as a small sun. It was only human nature to be unable to suppress feelings of admiration, and she herself was no exception.

Reflecting on Xiao Ji’s character design, Qian Surou surmised that she was not a typical protagonist; after all, in first-person visual novels, most players found it difficult to empathize with an impeccably flawless character.

Her use of the art room was a private arrangement, discussed with the current club president—a junior with whom she had a good relationship—who had tearfully expressed her hope that Qian Surou would visit often.

Qian Surou, who had intended to pursue her affections, felt a pang of awkwardness and decided to return the key before the new semester began.

Returning to the present moment. She addressed the girl, “Excuse me, is there something you need?” The girl, somewhat flustered, pressed down on her skirt, her breath uneven, her face etched with anxiety.

“I-I came to get something! Uh, sorry for the intrusion!” Before Qian Surou could utter another word, the girl hastily clutched two small bags and departed.

The school building was L-shaped, with the art room situated precisely at the corner. The small girl, standing backlit, obscured the exact nature of what she had retrieved.

Having left the club over half a year ago, Qian Surou, now a prospective university student, was not entirely familiar with the club room’s current state.

She surmised that the girl might be a friend of another member, leaving items in the art room. During her first year, the room had often served as a temporary storage space for city competitions and teachers.

Qian Surou did not dwell on it. Noticing a slight imperfection in the painting, she then told Ji Yushu, “Xiao Ji, you should head back first. I want to finish this painting—you know how I prefer to paint alone.”

‘The unspoken implication was: she wished to be alone to compose herself.’

Her tone carried just the right touch of melancholy, ensuring that anyone who understood the mood would not deliberately seek an excuse to remain.

Although neither had explicitly stated it, the lingering remnants of a withered romance did not decompose swiftly, nor could emotions be simply reset to normal like the hands of a clock.

Ji Yushu, her face etched with concern, looked back with every step she took. “Alright, remember to contact me when you get home.” “Mm.” ‘Who could be so heartless as to consider this merely a game or a dream?’

After Ji Yushu departed, Qian Surou gazed forlornly at the figure galloping across her canvas, murmuring wistfully: “I truly… can’t catch up, can I?”

In the end, love was like a drifting thread, and people like scattered willow catkins. As affection faded and people departed, threads snapped and catkins fell into unfamiliar alleys, a thousand tender sentiments dissolving into dust.

***

Liang Xueqing, fleeing in haste from the art room, found her legs trembling uncontrollably, and she stumbled as she ran down the corridor.

If discovered, she would be utterly indefensible, perhaps even subjected to a one-on-one ‘indoor education’ by a police officer, while the two bags clutched in her arms felt like bombs with timers poised to hit zero at any moment.

‘Cameras and listening devices… if they find out, I’m finished!’ She vigorously clamped the bags shut with her arms. ‘This is insane…’ ‘That I actually agreed to do something like this!’

Liang Xueqing could never have imagined that her cousin, Jin Xiaoyue, would discover her preference for girls, nor that her cousin possessed such a sordid hobby as secretly spying on others.

The bags felt heavy.

A miniature camera was concealed within the fabric bean-shaped eye of a Kaloo perfume bottle doll, while a portable listening device had been fashioned to resemble a compact hand mirror, nonchalantly discarded in a corner.

Engraved with rose patterns, it looked, by all appearances, like an ordinary trendy women’s accessory.

The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Who would go to such lengths to create such devices? The craftsmanship alone far exceeded the cost of the equipment itself.

These were props that would not look out of place in a sci-fi spy thriller, yet they were now being used to fulfill some woman’s dark desires.

Liang Xueqing dashed into an empty classroom marked ‘Science Laboratory’, swiftly closing the door behind her like a spy on the run.

Then, like a fish returned to water, she gasped for air, her brows furrowing as she looked towards the person perched unladylike on the windowsill.

From her direct vantage point, the slender and voluptuous girl turned her head. Her exquisitely beautiful face, framed by long sideburns that could not quite conceal it, bore a devilish, malicious smile, its pristine charm tinged with seduction.

‘Yes—she knew only one person capable of such malice.’ Placing the bags on the laboratory equipment table beside her, she pleaded with the girl, “That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Liang Xueqing’s plea was met with the click of a Polaroid camera shutter. Jin Xiaoyue gracefully leapt down from the windowsill, her misty-blue sideburns falling over her shoulders.

Her small leather shoes made a crisp sound as she landed. Her smile had vanished, her head tilted slightly to the left, and her glass-bead-like grey pupils contracted like an owl’s.

“It suits you quite well. Far prettier than when I wore this outfit. Beautiful things deserve to be documented.” Jin Xiaoyue gave the camera a shake, then casually tossed it onto the windowsill before walking towards Liang Xueqing.

The mere thought of Ji Yushu holding Xiao Qian in her arms brought her to the brink of madness, her heart consumed by the dark emotion of her cherished possession being defiled.

Tapping Liang Xueqing’s shoulder slowly, as if striking a tuning fork, Jin Xiaoyue said, “I told you to rush in, but you hesitated for seven seconds, and in that time, I saw things I didn’t want to see.” Liang Xueqing felt a chill of terror at the sound of her light laughter.

“Do you still wish to negotiate with me now?” “Tell me, what do you think would happen if I sent this photo to our aunt?”

As if performing a magic trick, a photograph of Liang Xueqing kissing another woman suddenly appeared before her. The moment dated back three years, to what was undeniably a rather scandalous period of growth.

Liang Xueqing felt a cold dread wash over her; at that time, Jin Xiaoyue had been a neurotic woman riddled with insecurity, and the photo itself was an accidental byproduct.

Now, her cousin appeared calmer, but in truth, she had merely stuffed her madness beneath a composed exterior. It was difficult to imagine how much it had festered.