After Rebirth, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessive - Chapter 29

“Ah Yu, don’t forget, okay?” Lin Duxi set down her fork and leaned slightly toward An Yu. The sweet scent of mango trailed with her movement, lingering around An Yu’s senses.

An Yu turned her head, her emotions not yet fully concealed. The way she looked at Lin Duxi still carried a lingering tenderness.

“We agreed on tonight.” Lin Duxi reached out, deliberately teasing as she lifted An Yu’s chin with her fingers. An Yu froze for a moment, allowing herself to be guided. Lin Duxi couldn’t help but curve her lips into a faint smile, seemingly pleased with An Yu’s reaction.

“Remember, we’re rehearsing tonight.” She continued stroking An Yu’s chin, refusing to let go.

An Yu let out a helpless laugh. “Alright,” she said, her gaze shifting to the bandage on Lin Duxi’s hand. “Has your injury healed?”

The moment she saw Lin Duxi, she was reminded of the wound on her hand. Lin Duxi sighed and extended her hand for inspection. “It’s much better. After you bandaged it for me last night, it started healing quickly. It’ll be fully recovered soon.”

An Yu studied her carefully. Though Lin Duxi’s expression was firm, An Yu still wasn’t entirely reassured. She reached out and gently took Lin Duxi’s hand, examining the injury with utmost care. Only after confirming that it wouldn’t reopen did she finally relax.

“I just don’t know if it’ll leave a scar,” An Yu murmured, lowering her eyes with a hint of regret. Lin Duxi’s hands were beautiful-if a scar remained, it would indeed look out of place. Suddenly, she recalled what Lin Duxi had told her on the boat about getting injured while filming. Though Lin Duxi had acted unfazed both times, a pang of heartache welled up inside her.

An Yu expressed her concern in two ways: either by looking directly at the other person with undisguised sorrow in her eyes, or by lowering her gaze to hide it. Having known her for so many years, Lin Duxi could easily discern her current state.

An Yu was worried about her.

In the space where An Yu couldn’t see, Lin Duxi’s lips curled slightly before she lowered her lashes, adopting the demeanor of a wronged kitten. Her voice even carried a trace of grievance. “Yeah, if it scars, it’ll look ugly. I might not even be able to find a girlfriend after this. If that happens… would Ah Yu be willing to take me in?”

An Yu abruptly lifted her head to look at her. Seeing the genuine mistiness in Lin Duxi’s eyes, her heart fluttered chaotically. Since this matter stemmed from her, it was only right that she resolved it.

The word “take in” might sound harmless to an outsider, but coming from Lin Duxi in this context, it carried an ambiguous undertone while also easing the shyness the responder might feel.

Under Lin Duxi’s wounded yet expectant gaze, An Yu truly wanted to blurt out “I’ll take you in” in the next second. But before this thought could fully form, Lin Duxi suddenly laughed, as if she could no longer maintain the act.

“Ah Yu looks so adorable like this. A small wound like this won’t leave a scar on me, so you don’t have to worry.” Lin Duxi laughed brightly, tears even gathering at the corners of her eyes. Yet beneath her smile lay an obstinate, inscrutable darkness.

She didn’t want An Yu’s pity-driven, fleeting affection. What she craved was An Yu’s wholehearted devotion, love given with complete sincerity-An Yu’s entire heart laid bare before her.

That was the cause of her madness, the fruit of her obsession.

An Yu stared blankly as Lin Duxi laughed, her own lips unconsciously curving upward while her eyes gradually grew complicated.

If Lin Duxi hadn’t interrupted her, would she have truly made an impulsive decision and uttered those words-“I’ll take you in”? Thoughtless words and choices were irresponsible to both parties. Not to mention, the current relationship between her and Lin Duxi was only just beginning to mend the rift from years ago.

Had Lin Duxi sensed her thoughts and deliberately cut her off? An Yu lowered her gaze, burying her emotions deep within.

Lin Duxi wiped away her tears and sat back down to continue eating her dessert. Suddenly, her phone rang from her pocket, shattering the momentary tranquility.

She pulled it out, frowned slightly at the caller ID, and answered without avoiding An Yu’s presence.

An Yu turned her head away, pretending to admire the scenery outside.

“Sister Ji, alright, I’ll head over right away.” Her tone was cold, carrying an authoritative anger. This was probably her usual demeanor, but in all the time An Yu had spent with her recently, it was the first time she’d heard her speak like this.

Lin Duxi hung up quickly. When An Yu turned back, she saw the solemn expression on her face and hesitated, swallowing the teasing remark she’d been about to make. “Something came up?”

“Yeah, my manager said there’s an issue with a job.” Lin Duxi looked at her, her eyes filled with reluctance and frustration. Just when she finally had time to spend with An Yu, those trivial matters had to interfere again.

“Ah Yu, I have to go now. Don’t forget to come to my place tonight.” She tugged at An Yu’s collar, leaning in close. This time, instead of the sweet mango scent, it was a faint perfume that enveloped An Yu. The sudden movement left her dazed.

Lin Duxi smirked, her eyes narrowing as she met An Yu’s gaze. Her chestnut curls cascaded over An Yu’s neck, accentuating its fairness. Slowly, she drew closer to An Yu’s small ear, hidden beneath dark hair, tucked a stray strand behind it, and then leaned in, parting her lips slightly.

An Yu instinctively closed her eyes, her heart pounding wildly. But the expected warm, moist sensation never came. Instead, she heard a soft chuckle beside her ear, followed by a voice laced with bewitching allure.

“Eight tonight. I’ll be waiting.”

Then, like the wind, she was gone-leaving behind a stunned An Yu and a nearby waiter who had been watching the entire scene, their fingers practically sparking as they typed furiously on their phone.

—

At exactly 7:58 PM, An Yu stood before Lin Duxi’s door, script in hand.

When she had left last night, the script seemed to carry the lingering fragrance of Lin Duxi’s home. Whether it was an illusion or not, during her rehearsals, she kept catching whiffs of Lin Duxi’s scent, tugging at her thoughts and making it impossible not to think of her.

As the clock struck eight, An Yu took a deep breath and gently knocked on the door. Unlike last time, it swung open almost immediately. Lin Duxi stood there in casual loungewear, smiling at her.

“Ah Yu, you’re so punctual.” She stepped aside to let her in.

The moment An Yu entered, the aroma of home-cooked food greeted her. She paused mid-step.

“Do you have guests?”

Lin Duxi sidled up to her. “Nope. Ah Yu doesn’t count as a guest.” Without waiting for a refusal, she took An Yu’s hand and led her to the dining table.

“I accidentally made too much food. Help me finish it, okay?” She leaned in, pressing two fingers against An Yu’s lips to silence any protest. The look in her eyes brooked no argument.

An Yu nodded in agreement, and Lin Duxi happily headed toward the kitchen.

“Last time during the recording, I ate so much of your cooking, but I never got to let you taste my skills,” she said with a hint of regret.

An Yu replied, “Your hand is injured. You shouldn’t be cooking.”

Lin Duxi didn’t respond from the kitchen, her expression darkening. If possible, she would rather endure the pain and cook herself than let An Yu’s dishes be eaten by someone else.

An Yu sat in the chair for a while, hearing no reply from Lin Duxi. Assuming she was focused on cooking, and considering her hand had just healed, An Yu thought she shouldn’t be doing too much. So, she decided to go help with some minor tasks.

She set the script aside on a nearby chair and was about to stand when a glimpse of white on a shelf in the distance caught her eye. She froze, staring intently-it was a medicine bottle.

Painkillers?

An Yu stood up, about to take a closer look, when Lin Duxi’s voice sounded behind her.

“An Yu.” An Yu turned to see Lin Duxi wearing an apron, holding a plate of food, looking at her curiously. “What are you doing?”

An Yu replied, “Nothing. Let me help you carry that. Your hand is still hurt.” She took the plate from Lin Duxi’s hands, and the two walked to the dining table together. Then, An Yu returned to the kitchen to bring out the remaining dishes.

Lin Duxi sat with a soft smile, watching her leave. But as soon as An Yu entered the kitchen, her smile faded.

She quickly stood up, walked to the shelf, and took down the conspicuous medicine bottle. It was new, still unopened.

After glancing around, Lin Duxi opened a drawer and tucked it into the very back. She closed the drawer and was about to leave when she paused. Then, she pulled open another drawer, took out a nearly identical bottle of painkillers, and placed it in the same spot on the shelf. Only then did the tension on her face ease.

An Yu brought out all the dishes from the kitchen. The portions were far too much for Lin Duxi to finish alone-she had been certain An Yu would stay for dinner.

An Yu smiled faintly and sat across from Lin Duxi. Lin Duxi didn’t pick up her chopsticks, nor did she spare a single glance at the dishes she had spent so much time preparing. Instead, her gaze was fixed entirely on An Yu, watching eagerly as An Yu picked up a piece of meat.

An Yu felt the intensity of her stare and remembered how she had looked at Lin Duxi the same way before. Amused, she placed the meat in her mouth-only to freeze the next second.

Lin Duxi, noticing her sudden pause, tensed. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“Is it good?”

An Yu snapped out of her daze, swallowing the meat with difficulty. She kept her head down to hide the shock in her eyes. “It’s good. Really good.”

Lin Duxi studied her expression, feeling as though something precious in her heart had shattered. She desperately wanted to gather the pieces, but they slipped through her fingers like sand.

“J-Just… just good?” she asked hoarsely, her voice already betraying her fragility. The corners of her eyes reddened as she struggled to contain her emotions.

An Yu’s heart clenched painfully. Finally, she looked up and forced a playful smile. “This flavor… it’s so similar to what I made last time. Did you secretly look up the recipe online after you got back?”

“I taught you this,” Lin Duxi said firmly, meeting her gaze. “You don’t remember, but I remember it clearly.”

An Yu stiffened, unsure how to respond to her piercing stare. “It must have been too long ago. I just couldn’t recall for a moment,” she explained.

Lin Duxi didn’t react to her words. Slowly, she lowered her head, then raised it again, her eyes misty as she looked at An Yu.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she murmured, saying something An Yu didn’t understand.

The shattered light in Lin Duxi’s eyes stabbed at An Yu’s heart, like dark undercurrents stirring in the depths of a silent sea. Unable to bear the weight of such profound emotion, An Yu felt as though her chest were stuffed with tangled threads. She gave a vague, distracted reply.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s eat. You spent so much time making this. It’ll be a shame if it gets cold,” An Yu said. Lin Duxi picked up her chopsticks and began eating with her.

Late at night, a breeze drifted in, rustling the clothes drying on the balcony. Out of the corner of her eye, An Yu noticed a familiar black coat swaying in the wind.

“Is that my coat?” she asked.

Lin Duxi looked up, following her gaze to the black coat on the balcony. For a brief moment, her expression faltered, but she quickly recovered. “Yes. It got dirty, so I washed it. I’ll return it to you once it’s dry.”

An Yu nodded. “It’s not an expensive coat. You could’ve just given it back to me to wash.”

Her casual remark made Lin Duxi pause. A faint blush rose to her cheeks. She lowered her head, waiting for the heat to fade before speaking again.

“I’ll return it to you as soon as possible.”

An Yu didn’t understand why a simple coat warranted such urgency. “It’s just a coat. You have clothes at my place too, don’t you?”

Lin Duxi asked softly, “Are my clothes still at your place?”

“Yes. They’ve been hanging in my closet all this time.”

“Good,” Lin Duxi murmured, her voice muffled.

After dinner, An Yu took the initiative to wash the dishes in the kitchen. Lin Duxi sat on the sofa, flipping through An Yu’s script. The warm light in the living room softened the room’s otherwise plain colors, making everything feel cozy.

Lin Duxi’s attention drifted toward the figure in the kitchen. Her gaze was tender, but beneath it, affection surged wildly in her heart.

It felt as though An Yu truly belonged to her-no outside interference, no restraints. This was the An Yu who loved her, the An Yu she loved.

Unable to resist, Lin Duxi traced An Yu’s silhouette with her eyes. At that moment, An Yu turned around, and their gazes met in the air. Lin Duxi’s lips curved into a soft, affectionate smile, her beauty and gentleness accentuated by the warm light.

An Yu turned back, her expression calm, but the frantic pounding in her chest betrayed her.

By the time An Yu finished cleaning up and stepped out of the kitchen, Lin Duxi was already absorbed in reading the script on the sofa, oblivious to the sound of the door closing or An Yu’s footsteps.

An Yu walked over and sat down on the sofa beside her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the white medicine bottle on the shelf again. Because it was so close, she stood up and saw the name of the painkiller printed on it. Her eyes darkened slightly.

To keep painkillers in such a conspicuous place at home-she didn’t dare dwell on the reason behind it.

An Yu turned to look at Lin Duxi, who was bowing her head to study the characters in the script, her lowered eyelashes suggesting deep contemplation of the roles. An Yu sat down and read the script with her.

After analyzing the character, Lin Duxi snapped out of her thoughts, ready to rehearse. When she turned her head, she saw An Yu’s focused gaze.

Noticing Lin Duxi’s return to reality, An Yu withdrew her attention from the script. “Teacher Lin, shall we begin?”

An Yu wore an eager-to-learn expression, her bright eyes fixed directly on Lin Duxi. Lin Duxi had always been defenseless against such a look, unable to suppress the sweetness rising in her heart.

“Alright, let’s begin,” she said, her voice softening unconsciously, lazy and doting.

Apart from necessary tasks, An Yu had spent the past two days fully immersed in studying her role. Lin Duxi could also sense that her level of engagement was deeper than yesterday.

An Yu’s script only contained a few short scenes, not the entire script. One of them depicted the protagonist sincerely treating the fallen princess as a friend, helping her step by step in her revenge.

However, due to the pain of her fallen kingdom and the betrayal of those around her, the princess couldn’t bring herself to offer her true heart. The protagonist was repeatedly hurt by her attitude, transitioning from initial fervor to eventual sorrow. The fallen princess was also heartbroken-she didn’t want to be this way, but she simply couldn’t let go of her defenses.

Amid yet another instance of distrust, the protagonist, consumed by grief and despair, said with reddened eyes:

“Are you really going to push me away step by step like this?”

Lin Duxi’s voice was hoarse, her eyes rimmed red as she gazed at An Yu, her vision blurred with unshed tears. It seemed that with just the slightest blink, those tears would spill from the corners of her eyes. Yet she restrained herself, refusing to let her crying appear undignified-though the despair in her eyes was already unmistakable.

An Yu was engulfed by the boundless sorrow in Lin Duxi’s eyes, as if it were constricting her throat, leaving her unable to utter a single word in response. An inexplicable grief surged in her heart-for a moment, she couldn’t tell whether this pain belonged to the protagonist in the script or to Lin Duxi herself.

Seeing that she didn’t respond, Lin Duxi grew slightly anxious. She grabbed An Yu’s shoulders and gave them a light shake.

“Say something, Zhaohan. Didn’t you promise you’d trust me, just like before? Lie to me-just lie to me, please. I’m begging you.” When An Yu still didn’t answer, Lin Duxi finally lost control of her emotions. A clear tear slid down with a tremble, landing on An Yu’s hand. It was warm, yet An Yu felt it seep cold into her heart.

Why did she feel this ache? She had already detached herself from the role, yet the sight of Lin Duxi’s wounded expression still made her heart sour. Unable to help it, she turned her head slightly away.

Lin Duxi froze, instantly snapping out of character. Seeing the complicated emotions in An Yu’s eyes, she was momentarily stunned. She retreated slightly, putting distance between them.

Just now, she had failed to control her emotions. During the rehearsal, for a split second, she had even believed she  was  the protagonist-the panic and despair weren’t part of the act. Like the protagonist, she was terrified that the person she loved most would leave her just like that.

Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, Lin Duxi smiled bitterly. At least the protagonist’s beloved was willing to lie to her. But the person  she  loved…

Lin Duxi lifted her gaze to An Yu, recalling how she had instinctively averted her eyes earlier. A pang of bitterness rose in her chest.

The person she loved wouldn’t even deign to lie to her.

“Ah Yu, your performance today was much better than yesterday’s.” Lin Duxi adjusted her emotions, drying her tears and forcing a smile as she spoke to An Yu. Her voice was still slightly hoarse from the rehearsal, her eyes and the tip of her nose tinged red, making her look pitifully fragile.

An Yu turned to look at her, her gaze deep and inscrutable-as if she were looking at her, yet not. Then she smiled. “Thank you.”

Lin Duxi sat beside her and picked up An Yu’s phone, asking her to unlock it.

An Yu reached out and took it, unlocking it with her fingerprint without hesitation before handing it back. Lin Duxi felt both sorrow and joy as she lowered her head and opened the notes app to jot something down.

“You still need more practice. Ah Yu’s concentration isn’t quite there yet-you immerse yourself quickly in a role, but you also detach too fast.”

An Yu suspected she was referring to her sudden evasion earlier and bowed her head guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“What were you thinking about just now?” Lin Duxi asked casually as she typed.

An Yu paused. “I don’t know.”

She truly didn’t know what had crossed her mind in those few seconds when she turned away. Fragments of memories with Lin Duxi might have flashed through her mind-or perhaps she was just lost in the chaos of broken recollections. In any case, it was all a tangled mess, like a ball of yarn.

Lin Duxi: “Alright.” Her brows drooped slightly, but she didn’t react further. “But Ah Yu, you really need to work on this. You can’t just smooth everything over with an apology.”

She handed the phone back to An Yu. “There. I’ve noted all the issues you might encounter while acting. Make sure to review them often, and-”

“-reflect more.” An Yu finished her sentence with a smile. “You’ve been saying these things since six years ago, Teacher Lin.”

Those words, so familiar from memory, now spoken again by the same person, carried a weight that couldn’t be captured in mere words.

Hearing this, Lin Duxi couldn’t help but curve her eyes into a smile, the earlier sorrow vanishing. Joy spilled from her gaze, illuminating the entire room like warm lamplight.

“Well, it’s because Ah Yu still hasn’t memorized them.” She moved closer to An Yu, her voice gentle, exactly like the Lin Duxi in uniform from years past. The two of them laughed in unison, all the earlier tension dissolving into nothingness.

Outside the window, the night deepened, shrouding the sky. The bright moon and sparse stars cast a cool breeze that rustled the curtains, spilling a pool of silver light into the room.

An Yu entered the bedroom, casually placing the script on the desk before turning on the light to prepare for bed. As she took off her coat, she caught sight of the drawing tablet nearby and suddenly remembered that her illustration wasn’t finished yet.

She hurriedly opened her computer, pulling up the nearly completed artwork. After making some final adjustments, she finally posted it.

Looking at her drawing, An Yu thought of Lin Duxi. If Lin Duxi ever saw something like this, death would be the least of her worries.

An Yu swallowed nervously, her whole body tensing as she stared at the artwork again.

The system probably wouldn’t allow Lin Duxi to see this fan community, and even if it did, she likely didn’t have the time to browse it. Even if she  did  see it, there was no way she’d know it was An Yu’s work. Comforted by this thought, An Yu relaxed.

Just then, her phone buzzed with a notification. She tapped it open and saw that someone had liked her post-specifically, the user “Sleeps24HoursADay.” An Yu raised an eyebrow. This person was fast.

Coincidentally, Sleeps24HoursADay sent her a private message:

【Congrats on another masterpiece, Artist! You really love red ribbons, huh?】

An Yu flushed slightly. The red ribbon had been a gift from Lin Duxi. 【Haha, I guess. Just felt inspired.】

【Inspired, huh… Artist, you-】

An Yu quickly clarified: 【No, no! I just meant that things around me sometimes turn into creative sparks.】

Sleeps24HoursADay: 【That’s impressive. But Artist, it’s so late-aren’t you sleeping? Pulling an all-nighter?】

TodayISlept: 【About to sleep now. (Sleeping emoji)】

【Haha, rest well then! Oh, Artist-how’s work? Any progress on the issues you mentioned before?】

An Yu remembered that it was thanks to this person’s advice that she had sought out Lin Duxi in the first place. She ought to express her gratitude.

【Sort of resolved. You told me to consult someone outstanding in the field if I hit a snag at work, so I reached out to a friend-a top-tier expert in our industry. She helped me out.】

Sleeps24HoursADay: 【That’s great! I’m glad I could be of some help. So your work situation is stabilizing now?】

【Not quite. We’ll have to see how things are evaluated later. For now, it’s slow progress-I still have too many shortcomings.】

Sleeps24HoursADay: 【With art skills like yours, I’m sure you’ll overcome any work hurdles. Hang in there, Artist!】

TodayISlept: 【(Fighting spirit emoji)】