A Scummy Alpha Supporting Character Accidentally Marks the Heroine After Transmigrating into a Book (GL) - Chapter 68

The sky was filled with brilliant, romantic fireworks, lighting up nearly half of the night sky.

The surroundings were a cacophony of cheers. The explosions of the fireworks and the rowdy celebration of friends completely drowned out Bai Wan’s voice.

Yan Nanjue didn’t notice what she had said. Her attention was entirely captured by the display; after a fleeting glance at Bai Wan, her gaze returned to the sky.

The biting river wind blew against Bai Wan’s face like a bone-chilling blade, scraping along her skin bit by bit. She felt frozen, and even her hand, held by Yan Nanjue, could not seem to get warm. Her gaze brushed over the top of Yan Nanjue’s head, looking toward the magnificent feast of light behind her.

For a split second, she even felt a flash of hatred for these fireworks.

…And perhaps it wasn’t just the fireworks.

She hated Yan Nanjue’s diverted gaze; she hated that the person before her could look at anyone or anything else. In a daze, the words Luo Shuqing had said during their last meeting surfaced in her ears once more.

No matter how much she denied it or how unwilling she was to accept it, Luo Shuqing’s words had come true.

Bai Wan wanted to hear Yan Nanjue’s answer. She only wanted to hear it from her mouth; she only wanted Yan Nanjue to be the one to tell her.

…So, would Yan Nanjue answer?

Bai Wan looked at the gorgeous features of the person before her. You want me to trust you… then can I really trust you?

She closed her eyes, unable to provide an answer to her own question. She waited for the other person to fill that void.

The fireworks lasted for a long time, drawing the attention of many. Crowds gathered on the distant opposite bank, tilting their heads up to watch. When the final spark died out, the sky returned to its usual darkness. Nearby, several socialites let out boisterous cheers. Yan Nanjue withdrew her gaze and looked at Bai Wan behind her.

She remembered Bai Wan seemed to have something to say while the fireworks were going off, but it had been too noisy to hear, so she had set it aside.

“What did you say just now?”

Ji Ziyi trotted over with light steps. “A-Yan, pack up and get in the car. Let’s go back and drink!”

Bai Wan’s gaze swept across the group. These “rich second-gen” heirs were raising their cans in a toast. Having finished their fruit juice, they intended to head back to Ji Ziyi’s house.

She lowered her eyes. “We’ll talk when we get back.”

She didn’t want to discuss this question in front of outsiders, nor did she want anyone to know what was hidden behind it. Bai Wan lifted her head, her gaze meeting Yan Nanjue’s directly, as if she had made a decision during the span of the fireworks. Her amber eyes seemed to be brewing a storm as she repeated: “We’ll talk when we get home.”

Yan Nanjue was completely baffled. What could be so important that it had to wait until they got home?

She couldn’t help but steal glances at Bai Wan out of the corner of her eye. Seeing that the other’s lips were a bit pale, as if she were cold from the wind, she turned up the car’s heater slightly and started the engine.

Bai Wan acted as if she didn’t notice the other’s gaze. She tightened her grip on the collar of the light coat. By the light inside the car, she had already realized that this coat did not belong to her. It was Yan Nanjue’s clothing, now stained with her body heat, draped over her shoulders.

As her body began to warm up, Bai Wan remained submerged in her own world, ignoring the freezing river wind outside. The fireworks seemed to have lit up more than just the night; after all, brilliant and warm things are always particularly attractive.

The group at the riverbank finished packing and sat in their luxury cars, taking the trash with them.

They returned to Ji Ziyi’s villa. The entire courtyard was brilliantly lit, even the pool spotlights were on, signaling a night of uninhibited fun. The side hall was nearly overflowing with gifts Ji Ziyi had received; some, having no place to go, were left on chairs and the carpet. Someone had sent countless preserved flowers, covering the floor of the side hall.

When Yan Nanjue entered through the front door and saw the flowers, she let out a silent “wow.” Ji Ziyi didn’t just have many friends; she had countless ex-girlfriends and pursuers. The gifts she received during holidays could practically drown a person.

“What’s with the flowers?” She looked at Ji Ziyi.

The latter rubbed her temple with a headache. “No name. I don’t know who sent them to harass me. I don’t even know where to throw them; I’ll have to hire someone to handle it.”

Yan Nanjue searched her memory and found this happened often, but since Ji Ziyi didn’t like flowers, people had started sending fewer of them. Ji Ziyi casually pulled one from a bouquet, tucked it behind her ear, and went to the living room to dance with her friends.

Yan Nanjue picked up a fallen flower stem from the mess, twirling it between her fingers. She said to Chen Wanjun, “Whose info is so outdated? Don’t they know our Young Master Ji doesn’t like this color?”

Chen Wanjun didn’t particularly like flowers either. She glanced at the light pink flower in Yan Nanjue’s hand—it was beautiful, but not a color Ji Ziyi liked, which was why the birthday girl had only given them a cursory glance.

“A bit of a waste,” she commented flatly.

Yan Nanjue placed the preserved flower on a rare empty spot at the corner of a table. “If it were green, she might have looked twice.”

Ji Ziyi liked green. She had since she was a child, believing it was the color of life and her personal color.

The two walked toward the living room. As the night grew deeper, the villa became rowdier. Even Chen Wanjun had a few sips of alcohol. Yan Nanjue hadn’t intended to drink, but Ji Ziyi’s mixology skills were too high; she took a sip and was instantly hooked. It was only after finishing it that she realized the cocktail, which barely tasted of alcohol, was actually quite potent.

In the side hall, silence reigned. A slender hand picked up the rose from the corner of the table, gripping the same stem another had held.

Bai Wan looked down at the blooming heart of the flower. Yan Nanjue… should like flowers. While waiting in the car, she would always take an extra look at the blossoms outside, and she liked standing on the second floor looking down at the garden. But she only liked fresh flowers, not these beautiful but soul-less preserved ones.

From the side hall, one could see a portion of the living room. Bai Wan lifted her eyes, her gaze passing through the archway and landing on the person whose back was turned to her. The person she was staring at was oblivious, chatting with her frail Alpha childhood friend. Her long hair was casually tucked behind her ear, and her profile was stained with traces of crimson. Even from this distance, Bai Wan could see the redness at the corners of Yan Nanjue’s eyes.

Drunk again?

She stared for a long while, an inexplicable ripple rising in her heart. Footsteps approached, and Bai Wan shifted her gaze to see the person coming. It was Yan Nanjue’s promiscuous childhood friend.

Ji Ziyi’s ponytail was nearly coming undone, hanging loosely at her neck. The flower behind her ear was a darker shade than those on the floor, and one petal was missing. She carried a faint scent of alcohol.

Bai Wan moved a step to the side. Ji Ziyi stood by the table, seemingly looking at the gifts, but she didn’t open a single one. Instead, she looked up, joining Bai Wan in watching the living room.

“Did you and A-Yan have a fight?” she asked, making small talk.

Bai Wan’s answer was the same as before: “No.”

Ji Ziyi swirled her glass gently, watching the liquid hit the glass like a wave. “You and A-Yan both look like you have something on your minds. I’ve had a few too many, so I’m overstepping my bounds by being talkative. As a friend, I can’t change A-Yan’s mind, but you are, after all, her…” She paused, searching for a word, before saying bluntly: “Wife.”

“I don’t understand how you two interact, but A-Yan… she’s just a bit stubborn. Sometimes she acts like a mute. You…”

Bai Wan said coldly, “This is the second time.”

Ji Ziyi paused. “Hmm? What second time?”

Bai Wan: “Chen Wanjun already told me what you’re saying once.”

Ji Ziyi laughed, murmuring to herself: “That Wanjun… she claims every day she doesn’t want to meddle, yet she goes and gets soft-hearted in private.” She shook her head. “Since she’s said it, I won’t bother you by repeating it.”

Just as Ji Ziyi was about to leave, she spotted something in the pile of gifts. She picked up a card with only four words written on it: “Happy Birthday.” There was no signature, no recipient. The handwriting was bold and elegant, exceptionally beautiful.

She narrowed her eyes, having already guessed who sent it. She looked at the gift the card was attached to; the wrapping paper was mint green. Ji Ziyi pressed her tongue against her palate, raised her hand, and pulled the gift out, unwrapping it with interest. Another smaller gift, used as padding, slid to the edge of the table, teetering as it prepared to fall.

Bai Wan was about to leave the side hall, but her gaze froze on the gift sliding toward the edge. The signature on the card attached to that gift had only one word:

Su.

Gold-embossed, printed font, a business-like style. Bai Wan stopped, her eyes locked onto the character on the card. Inexplicably, she had an intuition—the person who sent this gift was the “Su” she was thinking of.

Her sudden pause caught Ji Ziyi’s attention. She leaned over. “Ah, this is… a very familiar style. Who was it again?”

Bai Wan spoke, uttering the name she had repeated in her mind countless times.

“Su Changyin.”

This name had appeared frequently in her ears and before her eyes lately. She closed her eyes. In the desolate darkness, she could only see those three characters, as if they were bleeding—a nightmare that grew stronger as her heart wavered. Luo Shuqing’s words before leaving were like a spiderweb, entangling her when she wasn’t looking, her malicious smile like venom eroding her empty heart.

—”If you want to know, go ask her yourself.”

—”You might as well guess: will she tell you who Su Changyin is?”

Who exactly was Su Changyin? What did this name mean? The Eldest Miss Su, Senior Su, the outstanding graduate of Y-University…

Bai Wan had developed an almost obsessive fixation on this name, yet she had delayed opening the forum post Sister Liang’s niece had sent her. When she saw Yan Nanjue, she had dismissed the idea of opening the post. It was as if something was guiding her—don’t enter that post, don’t get close to Su Changyin, don’t search for the answer.

This name was like Pandora’s box. Bai Wan didn’t want the answer from others, yet she couldn’t discard that desire to explore. So she finally decided to ask Yan Nanjue personally. She wanted Yan Nanjue to tell her herself.

Bai Wan stared directly at the card. She said, “The gift was sent by Su Changyin.”

Ji Ziyi gave a slow “oh.” “She sent it…” As the words left her mouth, she seemed to realize something. She jerked her hand, knocking over her glass. Liquid flowed across the table, but she didn’t care. She turned her head toward Bai Wan in disbelief. “You know about Su Changyin?!”

Bai Wan glanced at her. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Ji Ziyi was speechless. She knit her brows, observing Bai Wan’s expression. Seeing that the other was just looking down at the card, her heart began to race. “How do you know about her?”

Bai Wan: “Yan Nanjue told me.”

Ji Ziyi inhaled sharply. This answer was completely unexpected. Yan Nanjue had actually told Bai Wan about Su Changyin? And Bai Wan didn’t look angry at all? What were these two doing?

“Your drink is spilling,” Bai Wan said coldly.

Realizing her reaction was too much, Ji Ziyi coughed, straightened the glass, and acted as if nothing happened. She probed: “How did A-Yan introduce her to you?”

Yan Nanjue wouldn’t have told her about the substitute thing, would she?

Bai Wan stood quietly by the table. Ji Ziyi’s words were fine. Introducing Su Changyin—a mutual acquaintance they all knew—to her, a stranger drifting on the periphery.

Her silky black hair slid down her shoulders, covering most of her face and hiding her expression. Dressed in white with her hair loose, she looked like a ghost returned to the living world, standing before her own nameless tombstone. She looked at that tombstone and suddenly realized something.

A chill radiated from Bai Wan, like thin, sharp ice. All her emotions were steeped in cold; even the air became thin and dangerous.

“You know Su Changyin,” she said. After a long silence, her icy voice rang out. “Luo Shuqing knows Su Changyin too. Since you all know her, Chen Wanjun must know her as well.”

Everyone around Yan Nanjue knew that name; everyone knew the owner of that name.

Only her. Only she knew nothing.

The gloom in Bai Wan’s heart grew like wild grass. Her eyes were dark as she stood at the table in the side hall, lit only by the wall lamp. Her beautiful profile looked haunting.

She asked, word by word: “How much do Su Changyin and I look alike?”

Bai Wan heard a faint ringing in her ears, and amidst that constant sound, she heard the click of a lock opening. She had opened Pandora’s box; she had torn through the precarious veil.

Yan Nanjue wouldn’t answer her. This was a fact that even Luo Shuqing—who could never read Yan Nanjue’s mind—knew. The flicker of fantasy she held in her heart quietly died.

Ji Ziyi was stunned, her mouth hanging open. She nearly let her glass slip to the floor. Holy crap, Yan Nanjue even told Bai Wan about that. She swallowed her shock, weighing her words, not knowing how to answer.

I should have stayed out of this mess. This kind of persuasion should have been left entirely to Chen Wanjun. Ji Ziyi thought. It’s all the fault of that gift, otherwise I would have left long ago. I wouldn’t be in this awkward position of answering such a question.

When she didn’t answer for a long time, Bai Wan lifted her eyes. Her brow cast a deep, heavy shadow over her eyes. “So much so that you can’t even answer me?”

Ji Ziyi’s drunkenness was scared away by this sudden turn of events. Bai Wan continued to watch her, her eyes glowing in the dark, her expression a mask of impending collapse.

“What was their relationship?”

Ji Ziyi’s expression was complicated. “There was no relationship.” She followed up immediately: “But A-Yan liked her. She was A-Yan’s one-sided, unrequited first love.”

As the words fell, Ji Ziyi felt an odd sense of relief. She wasn’t the one who did the immoral thing, yet she felt guilty for her friend. Since Bai Wan already knew most of it, it didn’t matter if she said this little bit, right?

Bai Wan repeated mechanically: “First love.”

“Su Changyin is Yan Nanjue’s first love.”

In memory fragments that felt as distant as another century, at a lavish banquet, she had been in a server’s uniform, moving through the crowd. A woman had been watching her. Her gaze never left that face.

A marriage contract delivered by a personal assistant had lightly trapped her body. She was nearly crushed by that overwhelming wealth and power; her wings were broken, her tongue clipped, and she was turned into a sparrow moaning silently in a golden cage. All her pain, all her hatred—everything she had, everything she lost.

It was all because of this face. That was the reason she was “the only one.”

…That was the reason.

Bai Wan heard the sound of her own shell cracking. The darkness in her heart rushed out without restraint, dyeing every inch of her soul in black. She was collapsing in this hidden gloom.

Ji Ziyi, seemingly feeling bad, tried to fix it: “Before she went abroad, she and A-Yan were just normal friends, and had been for a long time. They haven’t had any contact since she left. She… she doesn’t know about A-Yan’s feelings. She only treats A-Yan as a junior, just like us.”

“Cough, she’s been gone for four or five years. A-Yan forgot her long ago. You don’t need to care about her existence; there’s no possibility between them.”

The surrounding voices were like a broken old cassette tape, stuttering and fragmented, muffled as if heard through a water curtain. It took a long time for these sounds to reach Bai Wan’s ears, echoing in a boundless darkness.

She heard her own voice—exceptionally cold and calm, like water rushing beneath a frozen river, piercingly cold: “Then why don’t you just call her by her name?”

Ji Ziyi’s breath hitched.

“It’s not that you can’t say it. It’s that you’re used to not saying it directly.”

Ji Ziyi was completely suffocated. She didn’t interact much with Bai Wan; the woman always seemed unaware and uninterested. This was the first time she realized the other possessed such penetrating insight.

“This name is a taboo that all of you know.” Bai Wan described it in a level voice. Her voice was light, coming from the shadows, carrying a chill.

A taboo that everyone knew except her. No one dared mention it in front of Yan Nanjue; this taboo was a scar on her heart that could not heal.

Su Changyin was the beloved she could not have. And she was the substitute that could be bullied and humiliated at will.

She was selected because of a similar face, allowing her to take the position of Mrs. Yan. Everyone knew her true identity; everyone knew she became Mrs. Yan because of her face. That was why Luo Shuqing said those things to her, and why Deng Siyuan hated her face so much—why she targeted her under Luo Shuqing’s orders, yet never dared to damage that face.

In the countless moments Yan Nanjue looked at her, who exactly was she looking at? Who was she looking at through this similar face? How much of that “liking” was because of this face?

Yan Nanjue always called her Mrs. Yan because, to her, she was merely an inferior, cheap substitute. A substitute didn’t need a name or feelings; she only needed to stay by Yan Nanjue’s side with this face for her to look at.

She wasn’t Mrs. Yan, nor was she Bai Wan. She was Su Changyin 2.0.