A Female Lead Wants a Lifelong Union With Me (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 29.2

An He saw a dozen people in white robes standing before her, all holding swords, their faces fierce. The moment they attacked, An He instinctively tried to dodge, but she wasn’t fast enough and was pierced by several swords. A massive wave of pain followed, making her nearly unable to stand.

But they gave her no room to breathe, quickly attacking again. This time, the body finally stopped dodging; as if it had finally reacted, she immediately performed hand seals, aiming straight at the person in front. But the body was too exhausted and weak; her reactions were slow. The person wasn’t hit, and instead, An He herself was injured again.

At that moment, An He didn’t understand why Lin Ruoxue hadn’t run away. Why did she stand there alone to engage in a life-and-death struggle against so many?

It wasn’t until she heard what Lin Ruoxue was saying that she finally understood. At that point, she was so weak her body might have collapsed at any moment, but she forced herself to stay standing. She kept her eyes wide to target the group—dodging, attacking, dodging again, and attacking again.

Only one thought supported her: she said she had to defeat these people so they wouldn’t have a chance to get near An He. She also said, Wait for me, Xixi, I’m coming.

When the vision ended and An He returned to reality, the pain was still vividly present in her body. Even the emotion lingered in her heart, refusing to dissipate. It was a despair like an abyss, yet a strength as firm as a rock.

An He sighed, blew out the lamp, and lay down softly beside Lin Ruoxue. Lin Ruoxue was still sleeping, her expression obedient, lacking all of her usual ferocity and boldness—she looked like a child. Moonlight peeked through the window, illuminating her as if she were glowing.

An He smiled, reaching out to stroke Lin Ruoxue’s hair and touch her eyes, her movements full of tenderness.

“You know, in my world, everyone seems very busy,” she whispered, her voice so small it was as if she were only speaking to the two of them. “My parents were like that—busy all year round. They had no time for me, no time to love me.”

“Later I grew up, hit my rebellious phase, and wanted to do something earth-shattering, so I went out and got a girlfriend.”

“But at the time, I couldn’t say if I really liked her, and she couldn’t say if she really liked me. We just spent our days together—going to school, eating, skipping class to watch movies.”

“But then graduation was coming, and when the high school entrance exams were near, she suddenly got busy. She said she had to work hard for her studies, her grades, for this and that…”

“I was acting stupid back then and asked: ‘Since you’re working so hard, can you work hard for me too? Let’s go to the same high school so we can still eat together and skip classes for movies.’”

“Do you know what she said?” An He smiled, her lips trembling with the effort. “She said, ‘To hell with that. What kind of crappy school are you trying to get into?’”

“Later I figured she was right, so I didn’t argue. I just left.”

Just as she finished, Lin Ruoxue moved slightly and rolled onto her side, facing An He. Like a child seeking a hug, her hands reached forward instinctively, her eyelashes fluttering.

“Hug, hug, hug.” Seeing this, An He placed her hand on Lin Ruoxue’s back, soothing her gently. After a long while, she tried to continue her story but forgot what she was going to say.

“Where was I?” she asked the sleeping Lin Ruoxue softly.

Lin Ruoxue didn’t respond, but her grip on An He’s collar tightened.

“Never mind.” After staring at her for a moment, An He shook her head and lay flat. “I’ll stop talking.”

“Anyway, I’ve become a demon now. There’s no place for me. I might as well just stay here.”

“You risked your life once for me. I have to risk mine for you once, too.”

According to Auntie Huo, because Lin Ruoxue was so severely injured and had lost her internal core and cultivation, she might not even be able to maintain her human form and would soon turn back into a fox.

She said “soon,” but An He didn’t realize it would be this soon.

On the second night, while An He was out fetching a bucket of water, she returned to find that Lin Ruoxue had reverted to her true form. What was once a human was now a fox lying sprawled out on the bed.

An He dropped the bucket and rushed to the bedside. She saw the fox move its paws and twitch its legs, then slowly open its eyes.

She was awake! Lin Ruoxue was awake!

Not knowing what expression to make, An He stood there in a daze for a long time. Only after a moment did she snap out of it, sitting on the bed and reaching out to touch her.

The fox on the bed had just woken up; its body was weak and its mind was hazy. Seeing a hand suddenly reach out, its instinct was to dodge. It jumped to the foot of the bed and looked at her with wariness.

“It’s me,” An He said, noticing her tension. “It’s me, Ren Xixi.”

But those words didn’t seem to work. The fox’s eyes remained cautious, looking at her like a complete stranger.

“You don’t recognize me?” An He froze, trying to reach out again.

But in the fox’s eyes, this was a threat. It bared its teeth at An He and instinctively bit her. An He hissed in pain. When she pulled her hand back, there was a clear tooth mark on the back of her hand.

“Don’t waste your energy,” the System’s voice rang out, full of helplessness. “It seems… she really doesn’t remember you.”

“Impossible,” An He said. “Maybe my appearance after demonization scared her. She’ll recognize me once she realizes who I am.”

“I… I have to try a few more times.” She gritted her teeth and reached out again. This time, the fox bit her hard enough to draw blood.

An He: “…”

After more than a dozen attempts, An He finally believed the System. The fox before her really didn’t remember her. It wasn’t an act, and it wasn’t a lack of clarity; she truly could not remember.

Realizing this, An He stopped smiling, her movements becoming stiff.

“How could you…” She paused, not knowing how to continue. After a moment, she burst out laughing. But this time, there were tears in her eyes. “How could you not recognize me?”

The fox on the bed didn’t answer, but its shining eyes never left her for a second.

“Don’t look at me like that.” An He stood up and moved to sit further away, leaning against the table. Her voice trembled. “I won’t hurt you.”

“And from now on, no one will ever hurt you again.”

With that, An He turned and left the room.

“What are you doing?” the System asked. “Are you going to find Auntie Huo now?!”

“Yes.” An He nodded, picking a flower from the roadside and plucking its petals one by one. “Didn’t you say I’d be leaving this world soon anyway? So sooner or later doesn’t matter. I just wanted to see her wake up with my own eyes.”

“But I really didn’t expect this bastard fox would actually forget me.”

As she spoke, she was still plucking petals, testing her luck to see if Lin Ruoxue would remember her once she could turn back into a human. Whether it was bad luck lately or not, the final petal said “she won’t remember.”

“Fine. It’s better if she doesn’t remember. It’ll save her from worrying after I leave.” Throwing away the stem, An He smiled and pushed open Auntie Huo’s door.

“You’re here?” Auntie Huo was reading. Seeing her enter, she set the book aside and looked up. “Coming to see me at this time… you want…”

“Yes.” An He nodded. “I’m here for the core extraction.”

Ancient books records that any successful cultivator will form an internal core (neidan). This was true for Lin Ruoxue, and true for the core that formed in An He after she became a demon. If one person’s core is shattered, and both parties are willing, an experienced person can extract the core from the other and transfer it.

However, in the era An He was in, there was no anesthesia. The pain of core extraction had to be endured raw; one could easily die from it. Auntie Huo had disagreed with An He’s proposal at first, but after her relentless pleading, she had to agree.

“I have never extracted a core before. I have only seen the steps in books. Miss Ren, are you sure…” Before starting, Auntie Huo asked one last time.

“It’s fine. I’m sure.” An He replied from the bed, then pulled something from her pocket.

“What is this?” Auntie Huo asked.

“My suicide note,” An He said. “I wrote it over the past few days while watching Lin Ruoxue. It’s nothing important; you can read it as a story.”

“Once the core is out and Lin Ruoxue can turn back into a human, then we’ll see.” She smiled and gently closed her eyes. “If she still remembers me, don’t let her see it. Just tell her I left. If she doesn’t remember me then, give it to her. Tell her it’s just a story about someone named Ren Xixi. It’s enough if she remembers the name.”

“I understand.” Auntie Huo sighed, took the letter, and tucked it into her inner pocket, patting it firmly.

The System called out to An He, asking if she wanted to leave now for the next world so she wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of the extraction. An He just shook her head, saying she wanted to wait until she saw the core extracted with her own eyes.

“Can you endure it?” the System asked, suddenly feeling for her.

“Lin Ruoxue endured it back then. I have nothing I can’t endure.” An He laughed, then stopped talking.

In truth, when the blade entered her body, it was excruciating. But An He gritted her teeth and endured, forcing herself not to make a sound. As time passed, the pain seemed to suddenly lessen, or rather, it began to spread elsewhere.

Gradually, An He felt her heart aching. It was more intense than any feeling before, so painful she almost screamed. She had seen on TV that if a person feels heartache when leaving, it must mean there’s an emotion of lingering attachment.

So, was she unwilling to leave this place? Or was she… unwilling to leave Lin Ruoxue?

“Have you fallen in love with her?” the System’s voice happened to ring out at that moment, leaving An He stunned.

“Probably.” A moment later, she finally answered. Though her voice was small, her tone was firm. “Maybe I really do like her.”

With those words, the core was finally extracted by Auntie Huo. An He had no strength left but struggled to open her eyes. She saw Auntie Huo holding a shining little object. It was glowing, looking very much like the small pill Lin Ruoxue had placed on the table in the dungeon.

Thinking about it, she never did get to eat that pill. She wondered what it tasted like.

When Lin Ruoxue woke up, she realized she seemed to have cried in her sleep. Her pillow was soaked, and her heart felt as if it were shrouded in a dark cloud—sad and distressed. But strangely, she couldn’t remember what she had dreamed about, nor why she was so sad.

She shook her head helplessly, got out of bed, and after washing up, walked slowly to the door. She pushed it open and walked outside to stretch her body. It felt as if something was missing from her side; she felt unsettled throughout her walk.

Many little foxes saw her come out and rushed to report to Auntie Huo that the Boss had fully recovered. When Auntie Huo arrived, she saw Lin Ruoxue sitting on a large rock, focusing intently on a small object in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Auntie Huo smiled and asked softly.

“Carving something,” Lin Ruoxue said, working energetically. “Using the tip of my claw to carve characters onto a bead.”

“And what do you want to carve?” Auntie Huo asked.

“Lin Ruoxue and…” Lin Ruoxue froze. Her movements stopped, and her expression became bewildered. “What was the other name?”

Seeing her reaction, Auntie Huo guessed she likely didn’t remember Miss Ren. She sighed softly and pulled a letter from her pocket, handing it to Lin Ruoxue.

“What is it?” Lin Ruoxue tucked the bead away and took the letter.

“A story,” Auntie Huo said.

“A story?” Lin Ruoxue smiled and opened the envelope with curiosity. Before she could pull the letter out, a hairpin fell out. It was a beautiful, exquisite hairpin that looked somewhat familiar.

But Lin Ruoxue quickly redirected her gaze to the letter. She was curious to see what kind of story Auntie Huo wanted her to read. The moment she opened the letter, a few prominent characters jumped out at her.

— Narrator: Ren Xixi.

Lin Ruoxue didn’t know what was wrong with her. She had only seen a name, yet her nose suddenly stung. There were many foxes walking around; she endured it, refusing to let tears fall, and continued reading.

It was indeed a story, but the names of the protagonists had been hidden, replaced by “Person A” and “Person B.” It roughly told a story of how A and B went through many trials and tribulations and finally lived happily ever after.

As Lin Ruoxue read, she slowly began to smile again. Even her eyes lit up, looking exactly as they did when she used to stare at An He.

An He felt as if she had slept for a very, very long time.

When she woke up, she found herself standing on the podium of a classroom. Below her sat a room full of students, all staring at her expectantly. An He froze and panicked, asking the System in her head what was going on—had she transmigrated into a teacher?

The System said no, look again.

An He looked down again. As she looked, she felt more and more that something was wrong. This perspective was strangely… low. Before she could ask the System another question, a woman’s voice came from beside her. An He jumped, not realizing someone was right next to her.

“Let me introduce everyone,” the woman said, patting An He’s shoulder. An He turned to look at her and saw that she only reached the woman’s waist.

An He: “???”

“This is Yu Jiajia, a new transfer student from the Twelfth Primary School to our Class 2-3. She is seven years old. Everyone, please clap and welcome her.”

As she finished, a burst of warm applause erupted, making An He feel a bit embarrassed. But embarrassment aside, she quickly grasped the key point of what the teacher had said.

Class 2-3… and seven years old…

She had transmigrated into a primary school student!

Realizing this, An He felt like crying. The System comforted her in her head, saying how great it was to be a primary schooler—she could act cute and spoiled, and treat the mission target like her own daughter.

“You make it sound so easy,” An He sighed. “So tell me, who is my mission target?”

“That girl in the third row toward the back,” the System said. “The one with the two ponytails.”

“Oh.” An He responded and followed the System’s guidance. She spotted the girl with ponytails immediately. The reason she saw her at once was that she was the only one in the class with her head down, seemingly uninterested in what was happening on the podium.

An He: This little girl is interesting. She’s not even looking at me.

System: Maybe you’re just ugly. An eyesore.

An He: “…”

The teacher on the podium was still droning on. An He stood there for a long time, nearly roasted by the intense stares from the students. Just as she was about to ask where she should sit, the teacher turned her head as if they were perfectly in sync.

“Where would Jiajia like to sit? Teacher will arrange a seat for you.”

This was the first time An He had ever encountered such a good deal. Since the teacher let her decide, she was definitely going to choose the girl with the two ponytails.

She nodded politely to the teacher and thanked her in a sweet, childish voice. Then, She pointed to the seat right next to the girl.

“So, you want to sit next to Han Peiqiu,” the teacher said.

An He nodded and chirped a quick response.

Hearing her name mentioned from the podium, the little girl finally stopped looking down.

“I don’t need a desk mate,” she said, lifting her head. Her gaze swept over An He’s face, carrying a strange, inexplicable hint of disdain.

An He froze under her stare, then quickly lowered her head, instinctively touching her own face.

The teacher, thinking An He had been frightened by the girl, hurried to comfort her and took the opportunity to give Han Peiqiu a stern lecture. Scolded by the teacher, the little girl pouted in annoyance but didn’t argue further. She went back to writing with her head down.

“Jiajia, you’re okay, right?” Seeing that she was no longer protesting, the teacher turned back to talk to An He, her voice incredibly gentle. “Han Peiqiu is just a bit shy. She doesn’t mean any harm, so don’t take it to heart, Jiajia.”

“I know,” An He nodded, acting very obedient.

The teacher smiled and let her go to her seat.

“What do I actually look like?” The moment she sat down, she threw a question to the System.

“What do you mean ‘what do you look like’?” the System asked, confused.

“My face!” An He sighed, feeling helpless. “Is it really that ugly?”

“Pfft,” the System couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just joking, and you actually believed it?”

“If I’m not ugly, why was the target so unwilling to be my desk mate?” An He still didn’t believe it.

“Duh,” the System said. “Don’t you know that intellectuals always have little tempers? Especially the ‘genius girl’ sitting next to you.”