After Rebirth, My Ex-Girlfriend Became Obsessive - Chapter 71

“They’re so mean, scaring Duxi-jiejie so much that she doesn’t want to come back anymore.” Xiaoxiao slumped her shoulders, looking dejected.

She reached out and tugged at An Yu’s sleeve, tilting her head up with childlike hopefulness.

“Can you tell Duxi-jiejie that Grandma the headmistress misses her a lot?”

It felt like a violent gust of wind had swept through An Yu’s heart, suddenly weighing it down. Her fingers curled unconsciously as she lowered her head and gently ruffled the little girl’s fluffy hair.

“Okay, I’ll definitely tell her. Didn’t we already pinky promise?”

Xiaoxiao pouted, thinking for a moment-oh, that was true! Instantly cheered up, her words bubbled with joy.

“Great! I’ll make sure to watch your show later! You and Duxi-jiejie have to get along well, okay?”

An Yu froze, silent for a beat before giving the girl’s head another fond pat.

She watched as Xiaoxiao skipped away, her earlier smile fading as a wave of complicated emotions surged inside her.

She had known that coming to the orphanage might reveal some things about Lin Duxi, but in just these few hours, through the staff and the children, she seemed to have glimpsed fragments of the past she had missed.

Back then, while she was drowning in anxiety and stress over her parents’ bankruptcy, convinced that Lin Duxi’s feelings for her were fading, Lin Duxi’s own life had also been falling apart.

At the time, An Yu had believed that Lin Duxi had simply grown disappointed in her. After all, she had been resentful-her parents insisted on sending her abroad despite their financial ruin, and her relationship with them had been strained. Worse, her bond with Lin Duxi had become another source of tension.

Years later, lying awake in the dark, An Yu would often think back to that brief, youthful romance. She had assumed that Lin Duxi, unwilling to watch her struggle between her family and their relationship, had coldly broken up with her and left without looking back.

It was ruthless-but also very much like Lin Duxi.

But now, it seemed Lin Duxi had been dealing with her own crises, just as overwhelmed as An Yu had been.

A beloved headmistress suddenly fell ill, and the orphanage-her home-was on the verge of collapse. These weren’t burdens a freshly graduated high schooler, full of dreams for the future, should have had to bear.

An Yu remembered how busy Lin Duxi had been back then. With her reputation as the city’s top-scoring college entrance exam student, she had tutored endlessly. When An Yu asked if she was struggling financially, Lin Duxi had stood against the sunset’s glow, her expression unreadable, answering softly:

“I just want to save up more money… so I can stay with A-Yu forever.”

A suffocating ache pressed against An Yu’s chest, waves of emotion crashing violently inside her, churning up bitter regret. It was like being trapped in a thick fog-every path led to a dead end, every turn circled back to the same starting point.

An Yu crouched down absentmindedly, propping her head in her hands as she revisited those memories-her parents, her classmates, Lin Duxi…

Everyone had acted so strangely during that time.

Her parents, who had always supported her in everything, suddenly became stubbornly opposed when it came to Lin Duxi. Classmates she barely spoke to kept bringing up Lin Duxi’s situation. And Lin Duxi herself, who had avoided her, offering only indifferent responses whenever they met.

No matter how much she racked her brain, she couldn’t make sense of it.

A hand landed on her shoulder, snapping An Yu out of her thoughts. She looked up-it was Shi Yu.

“An Yu, are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?” she asked worriedly.

An Yu shook her head and stood, smoothing out her clothes.

Shi Yu studied her for a moment before speaking again.

“The headmistress asked us to help move some stationery into the storage room.”

An Yu nodded and followed her out of the backyard.

Compared to the quiet solitude of the back, the front courtyard was lively, the cheerful atmosphere lifting some of the weight from An Yu’s heart.

She picked up a box of stationery and followed a staff member into the storage room.

The room was large, long untouched. As soon as the door opened, dust motes swirled visibly in the light. Every step stirred up more, making everyone cough.

An Yu walked over, lightly coughed twice, and placed the stationery next to a shelf in the corner as instructed by the staff. The room was cluttered with large boxes, some haphazardly placed on unused shelves, thickly coated in dust from neglect.

As An Yu set the box down, another cloud of dust billowed up, making her bend over coughing. By the time she recovered, the staff in the room had already gone out to move other boxes, so she leaned against a relatively dust-free spot and quietly observed her surroundings.

The musty smell of damp cardboard mingled with the dust-filled air. She watched as the floating particles gradually settled in the dim light before finally deciding to leave.

But just as she stepped away from the shelf she had been leaning on, the aged structure-like a crumbling door-let out a creak before collapsing under the weight above it with a loud  thud  .

The storage room was instantly engulfed in a haze of dust, obscuring visibility. Covering her mouth, An Yu crouched down to inspect the fallen shelf. Fortunately, the boxes on top contained only used draft notebooks and textbooks from the children, so nothing was damaged in the fall.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of nearby staff, who hurried over.

“Miss An, are you alright?”

An Yu stood up and looked at them apologetically. “I’m fine, but this shelf… might need replacing.”

One of the staff members replied, “These shelves have been rusted from years of use. We should’ve sent them to the scrap yard long ago, but we kept them here out of convenience. Now that it’s collapsed, it’s for the best-selling the scrap might even help buy the kids some meat for their next meal.”

“Glad you’re okay. Let us handle the cleanup. You should go rest.”

An Yu refused and helped them carry the broken shelf out before returning to gather the fallen boxes.

Some of the boxes, weakened by years of dampness and mold, had split open upon impact, spilling their contents. An Yu picked up the scattered items and repacked them into new boxes.

The items appeared to be old workbooks and textbooks from the orphanage’s children. The childish yet earnest handwriting showed how diligently these kids had studied. As she casually picked up one of the workbooks, her movements froze when she caught sight of the name written beneath.

Lin Duxi.

This was a workbook from Lin Duxi’s childhood-a tangible glimpse into her life at the orphanage. The notebook was well-preserved, its corners untouched, much like its owner. The neat, youthful handwriting of the name seemed to transport An Yu back to those days, letting her imagine a young Lin Duxi carefully writing it.

A part of her heart softened inexplicably, and the gloom that had weighed on her suddenly lifted at the sight of that name.

Lin Duxi’s meticulous nature had been ingrained since childhood. The workbook contained her neatly categorized and organized exercises, and An Yu could almost picture the young girl earnestly writing those words. A strange sense of familiarity flickered through her-as if, long ago, she had experienced something that evoked the same emotions.

But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came, leaving no trace behind.

When she turned the page, however, she found that a section of the paper had been torn out, leaving only a jagged edge. An Yu found it odd but didn’t dwell on it-until she noticed writing on the back of the damaged page:

[  “The teacher asked me what my dream was. At the time, I said I didn’t know, but that wasn’t true. When I grow up, I want to repay Uncle Lin and Auntie Yu. They’re the ones who sent me here, and I’m so grateful to them. And also, I want to find-”  ]

The rest had been torn away.

An Yu’s breath hitched. The impact of the words struck her so hard that she stood frozen for a long moment. The childish script glared back at her like a blade’s cold edge, impossible to ignore.

The suspicion she had harbored for so long had just been confirmed. She thought she would be furious-angry that Lin Duxi had kept this from her all along. But instead, she felt almost nothing. The realization settled over her with eerie calm, and she accepted it almost immediately.

What baffled her more was her own reaction. The only question that lingered was:  Why hadn’t Lin Duxi told her?

Why hadn’t she shared that they had been connected through these experiences all along?