Chapter 71

Yan Nanjue took the call during a break in her meetings.

When the call connected, there was a long silence. She glanced at her watch and, guessing what was happening with an almost psychic intuition, signaled Lin Furuo to extend the break by a few minutes. She walked into an empty smoking room and waited patiently for Bai Wan to find her voice.

The butler’s voice drifted through from the background. Bai Wan’s breathing suddenly grew heavy and ragged, perfectly audible to Yan Nanjue on the other end. Finally, Bai Wan’s voice came, calling her name.

“…Qingzhi had a relapse,” she said. She took a deep breath and recounted everything that was currently known.

Yan Nanjue calculated the time difference. It was a day or two later than she had predicted, but close enough. The original book hadn’t specified the exact time of the relapse; Yan Nanjue had reverse-engineered it based on the date of Bai Qingzhi’s death.

The critical plot point of the relapse had arrived. In the original story, a suitable donor heart would be found shortly after, but the news would be suppressed by the original host. Since she was here now, that part of the plot would not happen.

“Yan Nanjue.”

Bai Wan called her name again, her voice much lower than before. She sounded like rootless duckweed floating on the sea—lost, yet desperately trying to grab onto something. Her voice carried a plea, her posture lowered: “Help me.”

“Come back and help me save her. I beg you… help me one more time… Only you can help me. Only you can find someone to save her.”

A faint sting came from Yan Nanjue’s fingertip. She knit her brows and looked down to see that she had been pricked by the leaf of a nearby plant. The thorn was sharp; a bead of blood surfaced. The sting felt long and persistent.

A knock sounded. Lin Furuo walked ​read the original at bailiantales.com​in, looking overwhelmed. She whispered almost soundlessly, “The partners are pressing us, President Yan.”

The Yan Group had a long-standing partnership with Country C, and this project was exceptionally important. The partners had even invited government officials as witnesses. Several senior executives had flown over as well. It should have been Yan Changqing, but she was away on another case on an island called the Independent State and couldn’t make it back in time.

“Four days.” Yan Nanjue’s furrowed brow smoothed out. “In four days, I will be back.”

On the other end of the line, Bai Wan stared through the glass, her heart racing as if it wanted to leave her chest. “…I’ll wait for you.”

The call ended. Bai Wan covered her chest with her hand, the powerful throb of her heart transmitting to her palm. Standing before the ICU in deathly silence, she closed her eyes for ten seconds. When she opened them again, she had reverted to the calm, self-possessed Bai Wan.

“How long until she wakes up?”

The butler hesitated. “The doctor said within a day.” Seeing Bai Wan’s near-disheveled state, she couldn’t help but urge, “Madam, sit down and rest for a while. You look terrible. Xiao Qingzhi is blessed; she will be fine.”

Bai Wan lowered her eyes and said nothing. Her adoptive parents had died in a car crash. It was an accident—everyone in their neighborhood said so. People taken away just like that; it was tragic.

Only Bai Wan knew the actual police findings. Her adoptive father had suffered a heart attack while driving. Her mother was busy looking for his medicine, and the car didn’t stop, careening through a crossroad. It was a heart condition.

Bai Xinzhi’s emotions had stabilized slightly. He tentatively shook her hand. Seeing her look down, he asked tentatively, “Will Sister get better? Sister, I’m so scared… I’m scared for Sister’s body, and I’m scared… that I’ll be like her…”

“You won’t.” Bai Wan knelt and hugged her brother. “You definitely won’t.”

Night, Country C.

Yan Nanjue had been working non-stop for days. Her voice was raspy by the time she returned to the hotel. Alone in her room, she looked troubled. “How did this happen right when I’m on a business trip? I wonder how things are with the heroine.”

【System: The butler said she’s stable for now. She’ll be fine once the surgery is done. Relax.】

“I felt uneasy the day I left. I was wondering why; turns out this was waiting for me.” Yan Nanjue paced the room before voicing her deeper worry: “My anxiety isn’t just about that. I’m worried… that they might follow the same ending as the original book.”

Because of the rebirth-er Ming Yan, Yan Nanjue had recalled discussions about transmigration she’d seen before. One point made her very uneasy: that transmigration cannot change everything, and everyone’s ending is fated.

Her mission was to prevent the heroine from blackening. The target was the heroine—only her. She wasn’t sure if everyone else was bound by fate… What if I can’t save Bai Qingzhi? What if I can’t change the ending? What if NPC endings are fixed?

【System: No.】 Uncharacteristically, the System’s reply was more certain than ever.

“Really?”

【System: Really. Have you forgotten? You always focus on the Blackening Value, but you forgot what I told you when we first met. What did I say your mission was?】

Yan Nanjue was a bit dazed. “To prevent the heroine from blackening while not going OOC?”

【System: You did forget the second half. It was: ‘Prevent the heroine from blackening without going OOC, and change your own fated death.’ You came to this book to change NPC endings—not just the protagonist’s, but the NPCs’ too. Since you can change your own fate, you can naturally change the fates of other NPCs. Your arrival changed everything. You are the greatest variable in this book and their only known path to survival. Without you, even if everyone was reborn, they couldn’t escape the designated paths of the script.】

Yan Nanjue’s heart tightened as the System ​stolen content​continued: 【But you are here. You aren’t a native of this world, so you aren’t bound by the script. You can change things.】

Yan Nanjue began to understand. “I thought… I was just a regular transmigrator who would leave after the mission.” That everything here had nothing to do with her.

【System: You can be, or you can not be; it’s how you interpret it. A stone thrown into a lake creates ripples. Besides, every book is different. This book doesn’t have that ‘fated’ setting. Don’t worry. Luo Shuqing’s original ending was as tragic as the original host’s. Now, though she’s struggling, Luo Huazhi is keeping her in check. She can’t get near the original host, which means her ending has already changed. She’s miserable now, but she’ll be fine later.】

Is that so? Then the heroine… doesn’t have to be sad anymore? She can avoid all the things that made her blacken.

The System suddenly added: 【Since we’re talking about OOC values, let me remind you: your OOC value has been soaring lately. It’s hit 20%. You have to drop it back to 5% within a set timeframe, or you’re doomed.】

“What?! 20%??” Yan Nanjue thought she’d misheard. The cold System repeated itself. Yan Nanjue, who had just felt relieved, was stunned. “Why?!!!! I haven’t even been around the heroine! There are no major characters around me! Why is it so high?!”

【System: No idea. According to the logs, it only started rising recently. We’ll talk when you get home. Go to sleep; you’re busy tomorrow.】

Yan Nanjue collapsed onto the bed, unable to figure out how she was OOC. She glared at the number on the panel. Could it be the virus? I’ve been maintaining my persona every day! Give a girl a break!

Exhausted, she grew drowsy as soon as her head hit the pillow. The System began telling her a bedtime story about a bird trying to fill the sea with pebbles.

“Am I the first pebble?” she asked, half-asleep.

【System: You are the bird. The first one.】

Bai Qingzhi woke up in the middle of the night, looked around in a daze, and fell back into a stupor. She woke again in the morning for a longer period, looking around [read the original at bailiantales.com]until her gaze settled outside the isolation window.

Bai Wan had come as soon as she got the news. Yan Zhi and Ming Yan arrived in the afternoon. Yan Zhi had cared for the children for a long time; she teased the sleeping girl through the screen. Bai Qingzhi tried to grin, her oxygen mask fogging up—a heart-wrenching sight.

Ming Yan stood by the door, unwilling to get close. Perhaps due to her rebirth, she disliked such scenes. Bai Wan walked past her. She had taken leave and was staying at the hospital.

As they brushed past, Ming Yan smelled the heavy scent of disinfectant, medicine, and alcohol. She wondered if Bai Wan was injured. She also caught a hint of jasmine pheromones—faint, but heavy with gloom. The emotions within the scent were so dark and suppressed that Ming Yan felt her own heart throb just from a whiff.

Yan Zhi spoke briefly with Bai Wan, noting her cold expression and the deep shadows under her eyes, and tried to offer some comfort. Ming Yan, overwhelmed by the heavy atmosphere, stepped back to avoid other families passing by and caught a clear view of Bai Qingzhi’s state. Her heart was a mess of conflict.

After an accidental two-second eye contact with Bai Wan, she guiltily looked away and hid in the stairwell to call her sister. “Sister, if… I mean if, I might be able to save someone. It’s not a certainty, just a possibility. But helping will almost certainly get me in trouble—actually, it will get me in trouble. Big trouble. Maybe even something you can’t handle.”

Ming Yue listened intently. “Are you hesitating because there are only downsides to helping?”

“There might be upsides, but they would take a long time to materialize.” Ming Yan recalled that Bai Wan taking over A-City was a year away. “I’m not doing it for the benefit. I just don’t know if I should meddle. I don’t want to get dragged in, regardless of whether the person is saved.”

“If you want to help, do it. I’ll back you up,” Ming Yue’s voice was warm and firm.

After a long silence, Ming Yan said, “I’ll think about it and call you back. Bye, Sister.”

Ming Yan returned to Yan Zhi. “Where did you go? I thought you disappeared.”

“Just getting some air.”

As they left, Ming Yan looked back. Bai Wan sat on the cold bench, her figure thin and her aura so fragile she looked like she might vanish into smoke. She thought of the Bai Wan from her previous life—different look, same aura. Whether it was the current Bai Wan or the one on the throne who could decide life and death, they were both walking toward destruction.

…Whatever. It’s not a bad thing. Besides, more than one child will die later.

“Wait for me,” Ming Yan said. She walked quickly to Bai Wan and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear: “Miss Bai, she’ll be fine. A matching heart will appear the day after tomorrow. You must remember: a matching heart.”

Without waiting for a reaction, Ming Yan ran away in a panic. Once outside, she called her sister. “Sister, I remember our family has partnerships in the medical field. Send someone to R-City. There’s a suitable heart there.”

“Xiao Yan?”

Ming Yan’s palms were sweaty. “Don’t ask how I know. I’ll tell you later. Just do as I say. Lead President Yan’s people to R-City. It’s best if they don’t know we meddled. Also… the news might be suppressed. Help me get the word to Miss Bai.”

On the third night of Bai Qingzhi’s ICU stay, Bai Wan was still suffering from insomnia. She stood by the hospital window, the night wind doing nothing to clear her thoughts. She walked to the ICU window.

Bai Qingzhi was awake, watching the TV outside. She was focused on her favorite cartoon, not noticing her sister. Bai Wan leaned against the door, watching her. Everything here was top-tier, and she could visit whenever she liked—all because of someone far away.

Bai Qingzhi laughed softly at a funny part, the fog on her mask dispersing and reforming. Eventually, she grew tired and fell asleep. Bai Wan remained in place, closing her eyes.

Footsteps approached. It was likely a nurse. As they got closer, the steps sounded hurried. Bai Wan straightened to return to her room. She turned around.

A familiar, tall figure emerged from the darkness. The corners of her coat fluttered in the wind. The person walked through the bright [Read on BaiLianTales]lights, her wavy hair swaying, and finally stopped before her, looking travel-worn.

Bai Wan’s gaze froze. The summer night was hot, but she felt as if she were being melted by that heat. Her soul, drifting for centuries, had found a branch to rest on. Even if this tree was poisonous to its core, she stayed, letting her soul rot in the slow erosion.

She should stay away. Yet she felt an unprecedented sense of peace.

…Less than four days.

Yan Nanjue had come straight from the airport. She had compressed her schedule to finish the important tasks as early as possible. Their eyes met. Bai Wan spoke: “You’ve come at an awkward time. She just fell asleep.”

Yan Nanjue looked at the girl through the glass. Seeing she was okay, she felt relieved and turned back to Bai Wan. “I didn’t just come for her. I came for you, too.”

They returned to the room. Lin Furuo stayed outside, messaging the butler to ask about recent events. “The butler said you’ve barely eaten or slept.”

Bai Wan lowered her eyes. “No appetite.”

“Mrs. Yan, I told you before I left, and the butler relayed it. You haven’t forgotten, have you? If you can’t even care for yourself, how do you expect to care for those two?” Yan Nanjue scanned her. The heroine had lost at least five pounds; she looked like she’d blow away in the wind. The weight Yan Nanjue had secretly tried to put on her was gone.

“If they are well, I will be well,” Bai Wan said, her face clouded with gloom.

“Come back with me.” Yan Nanjue didn’t say anything else, turning to leave. She didn’t look back; she knew the heroine wouldn’t dare disobey her now.

Back at the villa, the butler had prepared food and a bath. Yan Nanjue sat Bai Wan down at the table, ordering her to eat before [stolen content]going to sleep. “Eat, then sleep. Don’t go back to the hospital until you’ve had enough rest.”

Bai Wan looked at the easy-to-digest meal and knit her brows. “…I can’t eat.”

Yan Nanjue said coldly: “I’m not discussing this with you.” Her aura allowed no refusal, and her gaze was a threat. “If you don’t eat, you aren’t going to the hospital tomorrow. And if you don’t sleep, don’t blame me for using sedatives on you. Whether you go to the hospital is up to you.” Her tone was mocking: “Do you plan to die before them, looking like this?”

【System: That’s enough. If you push too hard and it backfires, you’ll be the one crying.】

The cook tried to intervene, but Yan Nanjue cut her off with a cold look. The butler sighed: “You know the Miss’s temper. When she’s angry, she won’t listen to anyone.”

In the dining room, Bai Wan stopped arguing and picked up her chopsticks. The food was good, but she felt like vomiting. Her hand gripped her trousers under the table, hiding any sign of discomfort. She forced herself to eat most of the meal.

“If I eat more, I’ll vomit.” She stood up, her gaze cold. She couldn’t describe her current feeling—hatred, or perhaps just annoyance. The emotion from their first meeting was buried deep.

Yan Nanjue didn’t want to be at loggerheads either, but the OOC value was too high! “From now on, your lunch and dinner portions will match this. Now, go upstairs and sleep.”

Bai Wan stared at her for two seconds. As Yan Nanjue turned to leave, she asked: “Has a matching heart been found?”

“That isn’t for you to worry about.”

Bai Wan closed her eyes. That meant it was likely. She recalled Ming Yan’s words—the timing was almost identical. How could it be so perfect? She pushed the doubt aside and watched Yan Nanjue enter the elevator.

The moment she was back: overbearing, tyrannical, threatening, and losing her temper.

On the second floor, Bai Wan heard Lin Furuo on the phone. The assistant was staying in a guest room and was currently on the balcony giving instructions to subordinates. She signaled for Bai Wan to wait.

“The core issues in Country C are mostly handled,” Lin Furuo explained after hanging up. “Chairman Yan took over the rest. President Yan flew back as soon as she could.” She glanced behind Bai Wan. “Where is she? Gone to sleep? She’s had much less sleep than I have; she probably can’t even keep her eyes open.”

Bai Wan noted Lin Furuo’s dark circles and thought of the other woman. “You don’t need to tell me this.”

“I do,” Lin Furuo smiled. “In total, she’s only slept thirteen hours in the past few days, and four of those were on the plane. As for why it’s ‘necessary’—the official answer is: it’s part of my job. The unofficial answer is: I have to explain for my boss. She rushed back for you.”

Bai Wan’s fingertips curled tightly. She closed her eyes. …I know.