After Rebirth, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessive - Chapter 3

When An Yu got out of the car, she noticed Pei Lu glancing in her direction from a distance. The moment he saw her, he hurriedly stood up and walked over, yet he didn’t spare her even a glance as he passed by.

So it’s really the love-at-first-sight trope  , An Yu mused to herself.

She looked down at the medicine and gauze in her hand. The ointment was brand new, still unopened. Her fingertips brushed against its cool surface, yet it felt searing to the touch.

As she walked toward the dressing room, a woman rushed past her in haste. The two collided before An Yu could react, and she winced as she instinctively put weight on her right foot.

“Sorry,” the woman apologized, noticing An Yu’s furrowed brows.

An Yu waved it off, signaling it was fine. The woman then quickened her pace and continued forward.

An Yu glanced up—the woman seemed to be heading toward Lin Duxi’s trailer.  Must be her assistant. But why the hurry?

Her thoughts were interrupted when her phone suddenly rang. She pulled it out and saw an unfamiliar number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” she answered, puzzled.

“An Yu! Guess where I am!” The voice on the other end was so excited it nearly cracked.

“Shi Yu! You’re back?” An Yu couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Shi Yu had been one of her closest friends in high school, but after Shi Yu moved abroad, their contact had dwindled. If she was calling now in such high spirits, she must have returned.

“Ugh, you guessed it right away! No fun at all! Yeah, I’m coming back the day after tomorrow. Wanna grab a meal? The class monitor and the others are throwing a welcome party—sort of a mini reunion. You in?” Shi Yu proposed, her tone carrying a hint of cautious hope.

An Yu hesitated briefly before forcing a smile. “I have work the day after, so I probably can’t—”

“Oh, whatever! High school reunions aren’t that important anyway. But promise me this—when it’s just the two of us, no matter how busy you are, you  have  to come.”

An Yu chuckled softly and agreed. “Deal. I won’t let you down, Your Highness.”

After hanging up, An Yu exhaled lightly and wiped the fine beads of sweat from her forehead.  This heat is unbearable.

[Host, you don’t have work the day after. Why did you lie?]  The system suddenly spoke up.

“You’re back? You were completely unresponsive earlier, and now you’re eavesdropping on private conversations?” An Yu shot back.

[This doesn’t count as eavesdropping—I’m the one who brought you back to life. Why won’t you go? If you’re lucky, you might even run into the female lead.]  The system seemed determined to get an answer.

An Yu rubbed her temples, annoyed by its persistence. “Pretending to be friendly with people I barely knew years ago is exhausting. I just want to rest.”

She hadn’t been close to those classmates back in high school, so there was no point in attending. And she didn’t  want  to.

Besides, based on what she knew of Lin Duxi, she doubted she’d show up to such an event either.

Satisfied (or perhaps not) with her answer, the system fell silent again.

Still, the phone call had dredged up long-buried high school memories. An Yu tried to recall what her life had been like back then, but the years had blurred most of it—only the grueling early-morning exams stood out vividly.

She had always preferred staying home.

In the afternoon, Assistant Director Zhao Fang returned to the set, battered and bruised, his demeanor utterly defeated. The director, who had been bottling up his anger, finally unleashed it all on him—the outburst was so loud the entire crew heard it.

An Yu watched from the sidelines, but her gaze accidentally met Zhao Fang’s venomous glare. She suppressed a shudder and calmly walked away, though inwardly, she resolved to find evidence of his crimes as soon as possible.

That night, after her shower, An Yu checked the time—still early. She stepped out of her room and absentmindedly glanced at the TV before heading to the water dispenser for a drink.

She remembered that, according to the original script, her final scene was scheduled for the day after the online backlash. In her past life, the director had rushed through her last scene and pushed her out of the studio, leaving nothing but artificial snowflakes scattered on the ground as she walked away.

Later, the drama was shelved, and An Yu had to pour all her savings into compensation.

But in this life, none of that had happened. The scene that was supposed to wrap up in the morning had dragged on until noon because the male lead kept flubbing his lines. The director, unwilling to scold his cash cow, patiently coaxed him through take after take. An Yu had no choice but to hope they’d finish by the afternoon.

When filming finally ended, An Yu realized the real reason behind Pei Lu’s distracted state.

“What? Lin Duxi is visiting our set  again  ? What kind of insane luck is this? I’ve seen her so many times now!”

“I heard she’s here because of an artist from her company. She’s really good to her juniors—I wish I could sign with her agency.”

“You guys actually believe that?”

“Huh? Do you know something we don’t?” The group perked up, eager for gossip. An Yu, too, felt a flicker of curiosity.

“Didn’t you notice? Our male lead was completely out of it all morning. Think about it.  Really  think about it.”

“Oh… no way. Did they hit it off that fast?”

“What other explanation makes sense? I don’t buy that she’d visit  twice  just to check on a rookie.”

“Now that you mention it, they  do  look good together—talented, gorgeous… I’m shipping it.”

[Host, see? This is the destined connection between the male and female leads. Even random NPCs can’t help but root for them.]  The system’s sudden reappearance startled An Yu.

An Yu: “…”

As she passed the monitor station, she saw Lin Duxi surrounded by a crowd, chatting animatedly with the director while others chimed in.

If I greet her now and she doesn’t hear me, it’ll be awkward.  With that thought, An Yu quickened her pace to leave.

“An Laoshi.”

An Yu froze mid-step and turned to face them. “Lin Laoshi, what a coincidence,” she said politely.

Lin Duxi smiled. “Going to eat?”

“We’re about to head out for dinner. An Yu, why don’t you join us?” the director suggested, standing beside Lin Duxi.

An Yu glanced at the director, catching Lin Duxi’s faint smile from the corner of her eye—the same polite, detached expression she reserved for strangers. An Yu returned her attention to the director and declined with a smile. “Sorry, I need to pack up. The props team is already clearing things.”

The director sighed, though his tone was unmistakably relieved. “Ah, what a shame.”

An Yu nodded at the group and turned to leave.

Lin Duxi watched her retreating figure, her body tensing as if she wanted to follow, but the surrounding staff immediately closed in, blocking her path. Her gaze lingered on An Yu’s back, dark and unreadable.

An Yu gathered her character’s belongings and delivered them to the props team. By the time she passed the monitor station again, it was empty.

She rolled her shoulders and went to grab a boxed lunch, only to be told that today’s meals had been provided by Lin Duxi’s team—and her portion had already been given to her assistant.

An Yu raised an eyebrow. When she returned, she asked Xia Song why she hadn’t mentioned it.

Xia Song blinked. “I thought you went out to eat with the director. I was about to text you and ask what to do with the lunch.”

“So it ended up in your stomach?” An Yu teased as she opened the box.

Sweet and sour ribs, spicy diced chicken, tiger skin peppers… An Yu stared blankly. Then, as if in disbelief, she lifted the lid of her soup—corn and pork rib broth.

Every single one of my favorite dishes.

“Xia Song, what’s in your lunch?”

“Huh? Uh… shredded potatoes, greens, chicken, and a drumstick. Why?”

An Yu shook her head.

After all these years, even I’ve almost forgotten what I like to eat. There’s no way Lin Duxi would remember. It must be a coincidence.

An Yu’s final scene wrapped up that evening, and the crew showered her with heartfelt farewells.

As she wheeled her suitcase out of the studio, she spotted Lin Duxi waiting in the shadows.

“Lin Laoshi, what a coincidence,” An Yu said.

Lin Duxi stepped forward into the light, allowing An Yu to see her clearly.

“What’s wrong?” An Yu asked.

“A’Yu… did you watch the awards ceremony last night?” Lin Duxi’s eyes shimmered, as if holding back tears.

“No,” An Yu replied.

“Oh.” Lin Duxi lowered her head, standing motionless as though An Yu’s answer had shattered her last hope.

Seeing no further reaction, An Yu moved to walk past her, but Lin Duxi suddenly grabbed her suitcase. An Yu turned back, puzzled.

“Safe travels,” Lin Duxi murmured softly, her expression gentle.

“Mm. Thanks.”

The next day, a light drizzle fell—a stark contrast to the clear skies of the day before.

An Yu donned a black trench coat, stopped by a still-open flower shop from her memories, and bought two chrysanthemums. She hailed a cab to the suburban cemetery.

She walked familiarly to two adjacent gravestones, their smiling photographs gazing warmly at her as if delighted by her visit. She placed the flowers gently in front—only to find two fresh bouquets already there, their petals glistening with raindrops.

An Yu straightened abruptly, scanning the cemetery. Aside from her, it was empty. She stared at the mysterious flowers, confusion knitting her brows.

Who left these?  Her parents’ old friends had long since drifted away, and she had no siblings. Could it have been… the person who pushed her to her death? But that was still two years away.  Impossible.

Maybe it was the cemetery staff.

After leaving the graves, An Yu didn’t return home. Instead, she went to a villa district on the opposite side of the city. She keyed in the gate code and walked briskly to a locked villa—the home where she had lived for eighteen years, the warmest place in her memories. During her company’s bankruptcy, she had fought to keep this property.

In her past life, she hadn’t stepped foot here even at the time of her death. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

Dust-covered sheets draped over the furniture, undisturbed for years, billowed as she walked, sending clouds of particles into the air. She coughed repeatedly as she made her way to her parents’ bedroom and pushed the door open.

Everything was exactly as it had been. She hadn’t entered since they passed. Lifting the sheet from a framed photo, she gazed at the smiling faces of her family and burst into tears.

The villa had no electricity, and as night fell, the rooms plunged into darkness. Only when she could no longer make out the shapes of the furniture did An Yu finally rise to leave.

Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She massaged her numb legs and checked the caller ID before answering.

“Shi Yu, what’s up?”

“An Yu… Lin Duxi’s drunk. Can you come get her?”