After Rebirth, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessive - Chapter 48

After the sports festival, Lin Duxi’s reputation at Jiangcheng No. 2 High School grew even more.

Previously, everyone had only heard that Lin Duxi was a beautiful academic genius but had never seen her in person.

Now, they also learned that not only was she an outstanding student, but she was also physically strong-she had won first place in the three-thousand-meter race at the sports festival!

Some people even took advantage of the chaos during the event to sneak in their phones, filming Lin Duxi’s race and uploading it online, attracting a lot of attention. Lin Duxi became a full-blown celebrity within the school.

An Yu had seen that video. She wasn’t sure if it was the school’s official account, but the camerawork was terrible.

Impatiently dragging the progress bar, she barely managed to watch it through, only catching glimpses of Lin Duxi’s small figure in the frame.

She scrolled through the comments and saw someone had posted a screenshot of Lin Duxi running-it looked stunning, with a flood of praises underneath.

An Yu downloaded the video and went through it frame by frame, screenshotting until her entire album was filled with images of Lin Duxi.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest as she stared at the overflowing gallery, her face burning.

Then, she quickly moved all the photos into a private folder, as if doing so would prevent Lin Duxi from appearing before her.

A month passed, and the lingering excitement of the sports festival still affected many at Jiangcheng No. 2 High School. However, Lin Duxi, the center of attention, remained unfazed, sticking to her usual study routine. The only difference was that every time she left her seat, her desk would be filled with notes and milk tea, while her deskmate would turn her head away, lips pursed in displeasure.

Young girls couldn’t hide their emotions-their thoughts were written all over their faces, yet they still foolishly waited for others to decipher them.

Lin Duxi loved this kind of reaction from her.

“What should I do with all this? It’s so annoying,” she muttered, organizing the pile of gifts with a troubled sigh. An Yu buried her face in her arms, refusing to acknowledge her.

Lin Duxi chuckled and deliberately leaned closer, asking, “Do you know how to handle this, A-Yu? It’s taking up so much space.”

An Yu’s head remained buried.  Damn it, Lin Duxi keeps calling me A-Yu, A-Yu, A-Yu… Even my parents don’t call me that.

“Stop calling me A-Yu…”

Lin Duxi’s voice turned pitiful. “You don’t like it? Alright, I won’t call you that anymore.”

An Yu’s heart twisted slightly. She turned her head to gaze out the window at the withered tree branches. Winter had arrived, and the scenery had grown monotonous. Watching a lone leaf dangling precariously from a branch, she sighed inwardly.

Actually… it wasn’t  that  unpleasant. But she didn’t say it, and Lin Duxi never brought it up again. The affectionate nickname was abandoned, and the ambiguous tension between them seemed frozen in place-circling, hesitating, unable to break free.

Eventually, the love letters and milk tea delivered to Class 3 dwindled, and everything appeared to return to normal. As days passed, An Yu gradually grew distant from Lin Duxi, their interactions fading like ordinary classmates after a seat change.

Except, whenever An Yu chatted with others, she could sometimes feel a gaze lingering on her. She pretended not to notice. After school, they would walk home one after the other, separated by nearly ten meters, exchanging no words until they exited the school gates and went their separate ways-one left, one right.

Strange yet reasonable. Awkward yet somehow synchronized.

Unconsciously, the first snow of the year fell, then the second. An Yu watched the swirling snowflakes outside, clasping her hands together as if hoping they could freeze her boiling blood and seal away the entire winter.

Amidst this chaotic turmoil, An Yu muddled through her second year of high school.

By the time final exams arrived-marking the transition from second to third year-her grades had plummeted disastrously. Her ever-busy parents, CEO An and CEO Yu, who were usually flying around the world, actually came home. Seeing her horrifyingly low scores, their faces darkened.

An Yu stared at their grim expressions, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction.  Look, this is the daughter you poured all your effort into raising. This is the daughter you never paid attention to. Are you scared now? Are you afraid?

In this state of mind, An Yu believed that as long as she refused to study, her parents would come home to check on her. So she rebelled even harder. Helpless, her parents confined her at home, hiring multiple tutors who surrounded her in shifts, watching her do homework.

An Yu wrote until her head spun. Finally, on a pitch-black night, she slammed a note on the table, stuffed a small backpack with all the money she had saved, and ran away from home.

Wiping the sweat from her face, An Yu realized this was the farthest she had ever walked aside from running the 800-meter race. She didn’t  really  want to run away-she just needed to breathe. She was practically an adult now; surely her parents would understand.

She didn’t go to Shi Yu’s house-her parents would definitely look for her there first. Instead, she hailed a cab and headed to the opposite side of the city, twisting and turning through alleys until she found a cheap motel to spend the night.

The next day, she pulled out her phone, searching for places to visit. She needed to stay away for at least a week-she couldn’t bear being suffocated by a swarm of tutors anymore.

It wasn’t until afternoon that An Yu finally dragged herself out of the motel. Her empty stomach could no longer support her wandering, so she randomly picked a restaurant to grab a bite.

In the afternoon, restaurants were usually empty. Only one waitress was there, wiping tables with her back turned. An Yu plopped onto a chair, and the sound made the waitress turn around-their eyes met unexpectedly.

An Yu had never believed in fate, but at this moment, she felt a strange sense of dizziness. Suddenly, she became acutely aware of how disheveled she must look.

“An Yu?” Lin Duxi’s voice was laced with surprise. She picked up a menu and walked over, glancing around to confirm no one else was nearby before speaking softly.

“What a coincidence.” Her tone was gentle, her eyes shimmering with faint starlight.

This was the first sentence they had exchanged in nearly a year. An Yu’s vision inexplicably blurred. She lowered her head to stare at the menu, feeling utterly embarrassed.

How pathetic! Lin Duxi says one word to me, and I want to cry!

“I’ll have this, this, this, and this,” she blurted out, jabbing her finger at random dishes on the menu, ordering far more than she could possibly eat. Lin Duxi smiled faintly and reminded her,

“That’s a lot. Can you finish it all?”

“I can. I could eat a whole cow right now.” An Yu shut her eyes, forcing her emotions down. When she opened them again, she had regained her usual composure.

Lin Duxi chuckled and took the menu away.

An Yu had indeed overestimated herself. When the food arrived, she took one bite of each dish before feeling full. Staring at the barely touched plates, she grew awkward. Then, lifting her head, she met Lin Duxi’s intense gaze.

“Come eat with me,” she said.

Lin Duxi didn’t refuse. She untied her apron and sat across from An Yu, picking up her chopsticks and digging in without hesitation.

An Yu was taken aback by her lack of restraint. Watching her eat so heartily, words swirled in her throat before sinking back down unspoken.

“Is this your relative’s place?” she asked casually, only realizing afterward that Lin Duxi lived in an orphanage. She quickly shut her mouth.

Lin Duxi didn’t pause her chopsticks, her head still lowered as she scooped rice into her mouth.

“It’s where I work part-time.”

An Yu froze, unsure how to respond. After a long silence, she squeezed out a question:

“Are you an adult now?”

Lin Duxi’s hand stilled. She looked up at An Yu. “Sort of.”

An Yu frowned. “What do you mean, ‘sort of’? Either you are or you aren’t. Which one is it?”

Lin Duxi burst into laughter, her clear eyes sparkling like a galaxy. “Are you doing tongue twisters now?”

An Yu: “…Does your boss know you’re here eating the customers’ food?” Irritated by Lin Duxi, she deliberately threatened her, putting on a fierce act.

“The boss is sleeping inside and doesn’t know. Besides, I believe you won’t tell him.” Lin Duxi reached out to touch her.

“How do you know I won’t tell him?” She tilted her head slightly. For no reason, the gloom that had weighed on her for days dissipated like a breeze, lightening her mood.

Their childish conversation drifted into the summer wind, caught by the branches of the trees outside the shop, growing ever more crisp.

After the meal, An Yu prepared to leave the restaurant. She slung her backpack over her shoulders and walked slowly toward the door, pausing just as she was about to push it open.

“Do you know any fun places around here?” She turned to ask Lin Duxi.

Lin Duxi’s hand, holding a rag, froze mid-motion. After a moment’s thought, she replied, “There’s a small hill nearby with a wooden tower at the top. It requires a ticket, though-I’ve never been.”

An Yu nodded. “Let’s go.”

Lin Duxi stared at her, momentarily stunned. An Yu added, “You only told me it’s on a nearby hill. I don’t know the exact location. You’ll have to take me there.”

Lin Duxi absently set down the rag. “I’ll go ask the boss for leave.” But An Yu grabbed her wrist and pulled her outside.

“At this time of day, no one’s going to come except someone as idle as me. If you ask for leave, the boss will dock your pay. We’ll only be gone for a bit-he won’t even notice.”

Lin Duxi watched her back. Her hair had grown much longer, its soft strands brushing against her cheeks. It tickled, but she liked it.

Lin Duxi thought to herself: Even if the boss scolded her, even if he withheld her wages, she would still go with An Yu.

The hill was indeed small. They reached the summit after just a few steps. However, the wooden tower required a ticket-150 per person. An Yu surveyed the tower’s surroundings from outside. It looked shabby and unremarkable, so she pocketed the money she’d taken out. The two wandered along the hill’s paths, sitting on the ground to rest when tired, heedless of the dirt.

Amid the lush greenery, the chirping of insects and birds filled the air. Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting patterns on the girls’ bodies, making them glow with an almost ethereal beauty.

An Yu looked up at the sky. Unnoticed, clusters of dark clouds had gathered, pressing heavily downward. The air grew thick and humid, and a few raindrops splashed onto the back of her hand, which had been shielding her eyes from the sun.

Jiangcheng’s weather was notoriously fickle. In the blink of an eye, the drizzle turned into a torrential downpour. An Yu and Lin Duxi dashed down the hill, weaving between the trees.

An Yu opened her backpack, took out an umbrella, and held it over both of them. But the rain was too fierce, and the small umbrella couldn’t cover them both.

“Ah-An Yu, you take it. I’ll just shower when I get back,” Lin Duxi said, pushing the umbrella toward An Yu. It didn’t budge.

Half of An Yu’s body was already soaked. Hearing Lin Duxi’s words, she recalled the girl’s demeanor during the last sports meet and frowned, tilting the umbrella further toward Lin Duxi.

“I’m tough! A little rain is nothing,” An Yu declared, stealthily angling the umbrella even more in Lin Duxi’s direction.

Once they descended the hill, they took shelter under the eaves of a closed shop, waiting for the rain to let up.

The downpour isolated them from the world, shrinking the universe to just the two of them in that tiny space. An Yu, drenched and trembling slightly, felt Lin Duxi inch closer until their elbows touched.

“An Yu, I’m a little cold. Can I hold your hand?” Lin Duxi asked, though she didn’t wait for an answer before interlacing their fingers, seeking warmth.

An Yu’s entire body tingled. In retaliation, she squeezed Lin Duxi’s hand tightly. The atmosphere under the narrow eaves grew warmer. An Yu’s body was cold and wet, but her heart burned fiercely.

“The boss at the place where I work pays me pretty well,” Lin Duxi said softly, as if the confined space had amplified her urge to confide. It was the first time she’d spoken to An Yu about such things.

An Yu listened quietly, still holding her hand.

“I work here during the day and return to the orphanage at night. Some customers leave dishes barely touched, and the boss lets us eat them. No one knows anyway.”

Noticing An Yu’s grip tightening, Lin Duxi paused before meeting her gaze with a smile.

“Today’s my birthday. Could you wish me a happy birthday? I’d like to hear it from you.” Her eyes were clear, but beneath the surface lurked a silent plea.

Don’t refuse me, please. You’re all I have.  Lin Duxi begged inwardly, though her expression gave nothing away.

For a moment, An Yu’s breath caught. Faced with that look, an indescribable emotion welled up inside her-not shyness, not surprise, but something deeper and more unsettling.

Her heart felt as though it were being crushed, the ache spreading through her entire body. Meeting Lin Duxi’s gaze, she parted her lips.

“Happy birthday.”

Lin Duxi’s smile widened. The rain sharpened the world around them, and all An Yu could see was the tenderness in Lin Duxi’s eyes.

“Can I hug you?” Lin Duxi asked again.

This time, before she could finish, An Yu pulled her into an embrace. Like two birds with rain-soaked feathers, they clung to each other, sharing warmth.

“You can call me whatever you want from now on,” An Yu murmured, her voice nearly lost in the rain.

But Lin Duxi heard her. Her eyes shimmered as she tightened her arms around An Yu, who felt almost breathless but didn’t pull away.

“Anytime?”

“Whenever you want. Even at school.”

“Ah-Yu.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say it. Ah-Yu, Ah-Yu, Ah-Yu.” Lin Duxi whispered by her ear, her voice like a clear spring.

As the rain eased, the first thing An Yu saw wasn’t the empty, washed-clean streets but a familiar car with a familiar license plate.

She had expected this. Seeing her parents step out of the car, she felt no fear, only a firmer grip on Lin Duxi’s hand.

“My parents are here. I have to go.”

Lin Duxi smoothed her tousled hair. “Okay.”

Though An Yu hadn’t mentioned running away from home, Lin Duxi had likely guessed.

An Yu pressed the umbrella into Lin Duxi’s hand and let go of their intertwined fingers before walking toward her mother. Yu Yingzhen’s frown softened when she saw how drenched her daughter was.

“What were you thinking, An Yu? Let’s go home so you can shower.”

An Yu glanced back. Her father was speaking to Lin Duxi-probably thanking her for keeping an eye on her.

“Have Lin Duxi tutor me,” she said, ignoring her mother’s question.

“Why?”

“Lin Duxi is first in our class and third in the entire grade. She’s better than any tutor you’d hire-at least she won’t drone on in my ear.” An Yu swallowed the rest of her thought:  And I like it when she teaches me.

Yu Yingzhen studied Lin Duxi before turning back to An Yu. “How can you be so sure she’ll agree?”

An Yu lowered her head and muttered, “She will.”

The scene shifts to a later moment under the moonlight:

A shadow fell over An Yu as Lin Duxi sat beside her, their thighs touching.

The moonlight was exceptionally bright tonight, illuminating even the faint flutter of Lin Duxi’s lashes, glowing like fireflies.

“The last time Ah-Yu and I sat together like this was six years ago,” Lin Duxi said softly, her gaze fixed on the moon. An Yu looked at her, seeing the moon reflected in her eyes.

An Yu remembered. She had just been thinking about it.

“Six years ago, we climbed a small hill in Jiangcheng to see the view,” Lin Duxi continued, reminiscing. “But the ticket for the wooden tower was too expensive, so we didn’t go in. Then it started pouring, and we ran down the hill under a tiny umbrella, getting completely soaked.”

Whenever she spoke of the past, her eyes softened like stars in the night sky, inviting closeness.

An Yu shied away from that light, her expression sorrowful. “But Lin Duxi, wet clothes can’t be dried by body heat alone. I caught a cold that lasted a week afterward. If it’s just a memory, let it stay in the past. Don’t bring it up again.” She stared at the hollow space within herself, unsure whether the words were meant for Lin Duxi or herself.

Lin Duxi’s smile froze, then faded. She stared intently at An Yu, her eyes clouding with something desperate.

After a long silence, she said, “An Yu, you’re lying.”

An Yu stiffened, meeting Lin Duxi’s gaze. The near-madness in those eyes rendered her speechless. She couldn’t bring herself to say,  I’m not.

Lin Duxi let out a low laugh, her voice thick with sorrow.

“An Yu, you’re lying,” she repeated, then stood.

“I’m tired. I’m going back. You should rest too.” She walked away-angry, resentful, or perhaps heartbroken.

An Yu hugged her knees, resting her forehead against them as she stared blankly at the moon.

If the moon disappears, will it return?

An Yu was miserable because she  had  lied. She’d understood Lin Duxi’s meaning instantly, leaving her no room for rebuttal.

She, too, was trapped in the past, struggling like a clumsy snail curled tightly in its shell. Yet she’d callously told Lin Duxi to move on.

How laughable.