CHAPTER 65: WRITTEN BY, XUANHE

Song Chengfeng smiled faintly at her response. "A lot of things don’t make sense. Just accept it," he advised, his voice calm but laced with understanding.

For someone like him, who typically analysed every decision with precision, this was strange advice. Song Chengfeng wasn’t the reckless type—he never made a move without calculating the risks and benefits. Yet, all that seemed to vanish whenever he was around Qi Jianyi.

He couldn’t even explain why he had walked up to her car that day when she was drunk, why he’d driven her home, or why he had allowed their encounters to continue under the guise of her ’owing’ him a favour for his help.

But deep down, Song Chengfeng knew the truth that his interest had been piqued ever since she sat down at his table during He Zejin’s birthday party.

There had been something in her eyes that day. Despite her attempts to appear indifferent, her gaze had wandered, filled with a peculiar curiosity. Those wandering eyes had captured his attention, and before he realised it, he found himself watching her.

It wasn’t just the curiosity that struck him—it was how she looked at He Zeqing. There had been something unsettling in her expression: a mix of awe and bewilderment, as if she were seeing her cousin for the first time.

That’s what confused him the most. No matter how strained their relationship might be, they still saw each other at gatherings, especially during the New Year. Yet, in that moment, Qi Jianyi had stared at He Zeqing as if he were a complete stranger.

And all of a sudden, Song Chengfeng realised that a lot of things in his life no longer made sense. The meticulous, calculated person he once was had started to unravel the moment she entered his world.

He had walked to her car that night because his body moved before his mind could reason why. He had driven her home, not because it was the logical thing to do, but because concern had whispered into his thoughts. Now, even hearing her name made his heart skip in ways he couldn’t ignore.

It was just like when he found out that Qi Jianyi had fainted. He hadn’t paused to consider the reasons or weigh his options. His body had moved first, racing to be by her side even before his mind could catch up. No hesitation, no second-guessing—he had shown up the moment He Zeqing received the call.

Song Chengfeng’s heart now beat faster whenever she smiled, her eyes gazing at him with that familiar, yet slightly distant daze. It wasn’t something that could be dissected, reasoned, or explained.

His feelings for her didn’t need logic. They simply existed.

Because of her.

Because of Qi Jianyi.

Her presence in his life stirred emotions he hadn’t known were possible—emotions that made him do things without thinking, made him feel things without questioning.

Song Chengfeng likes her.

Song Chengfeng likes Qi Jianyi.

Simply because she is Qi Jianyi.

Everything about her, from her sharp wit to her quiet vulnerability, from the way she looked when she was lost in thought to her stubbornness—he likes it all.

No reason needed.

Just her.

"Why don’t you accept me?" Song Chengfeng blurted out, no longer hiding his feelings. Not like he ever did.

"I’m good-looking, I’m rich, I’m strong, and I can protect you. Most importantly, I can cook." His tone was shameless, completely ignoring the situation and the curious gazes of passersby as he launched into a confident self-promotion.

Meanwhile, Qi Jianyi could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, embarrassment bubbling up as she glanced around at the subtle whispers from onlookers. She really wished she could sink into the ground, disappearing from the scene altogether. Song Chengfeng seemed utterly oblivious, continuing his pitch without a care in the world.

"Please don’t tell me you learned to say all of that from a drama," she deadpanned, narrowing her eyes at him with a skeptical look.

There was no way a man like Song Chengfeng—stoic, straightforward, and lacking any natural flair for romantic gestures could come up with such lines on his own.

To her dismay, he nodded without a hint of shame. "Of course. Don’t all women like men who can cook?" He looked at her earnestly, as if expecting her to validate his romantic education.

Qi Jianyi rolled her eyes, feeling both amused and helpless. "From now on, quit watching those dramas," she warned, though she couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.

Despite her clear lack of intention to accept him, she still felt the need to rescue him from the delusions that romance dramas had evidently instilled in his mind. She couldn’t stand by and let his romantic brain be shaped by those over-the-top fictional plots.

But Song Chengfeng merely tilted his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her caution. After all, where else would he learn these things? If those dramas had taught him anything, it was how to make his feelings known—and to him, that was all that mattered.

Qi Jianyi sighed, feeling both amused and exasperated by Song Chengfeng’s antics. "You’re impossible," she muttered under her breath.

Song Chengfeng, completely unfazed, leaned in slightly. "So, you don’t like men who can cook?" he asked, his tone still playful but with a hint of sincerity, as if her answer mattered more than he’d let on.

She shot him a sideways glance. "I like my peace and quiet," she replied with a smirk, trying to deflect the weight of his question.

But Song Chengfeng wasn’t deterred. "I can be quiet," he insisted. "I’ll just cook and not say a word."

Qi Jianyi couldn’t help but chuckle at his persistence, shaking her head. "You really have no shame, do you?"

"None," he admitted without hesitation, his eyes softening as they met hers. "Not when it comes to you."

For a split second, her defenses wavered, but she quickly composed herself. "Don’t get your hopes up and give up," she warned, her voice firm as always.

"I won’t," Song Chengfeng replied sincerely with a shameless smile on his face. "I will never give up."

Qi Jianyi deliberately ignored Song Chengfeng’s earnest words, her attention drifting toward the bustling filming set where the female lead were preparing to shoot her scene.

As she focused on the activity around her, she could feel Song Chengfeng’s unwavering gaze on her, the weight of his scrutiny almost palpable.

"Look in front," she whispered softly, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. She hoped to divert his attention from her, wishing he would shift his focus to the unfolding drama before them.

With a smug smile playing on his lips, Song Chengfeng reluctantly turned to watch the actress on screen, who was beginning to act with a surprisingly disinterested demeanour.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted dramatically.

"No—how is this possible?" The female lead, Xia Ning, gasped, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Qi Jianyi raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance. ’Oh, the typical "transmigrating into the novel" storyline?’ she scoffed internally, her distaste for such tropes flaring up. Of all the genres she had encountered in her writing career, transmigration had become her most loathed.

"Did I—" Xia Ning took a deep, anxious breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did I become the vicious main character, Gu Xiao?"

Panic and confusion danced in her eyes, showcasing her acting chops in a way that drew Qi Jianyi’s reluctant admiration.

Qi Jianyi couldn’t help but nod in awe, watching Xia Ning’s frantic expression. Was that how she had looked when she first woke up in this world? she wondered.

"But... how?" Xia Ning continued, her voice rising in desperation. "How did I become Gu Xiao?"

Shreeeek!

A shrill, high-pitched sound suddenly pierced the air, ringing loudly in Qi Jianyi’s ears. She winced, the noise cutting through the tension and confusion of the scene.

With the sudden ear-splitting sound, Qi Jianyi could feel the sharp headache coming in. However before she could touch her head, her chest tightened, forcing the hand to change direction and clenching to her chest.

"Qi Jianyi?" Song Chengfeng called softly, his voice tinged with concern as he noticed her suddenly clutching her chest, her complexion paling alarmingly.

But Qi Jianyi was far beyond hearing his words. The voices from the filming set faded into an echo, replaced by a vivid memory that surged to the forefront of her mind, demanding her attention.

"How do I become that Qi Jianyi?"

"I want to be her!"

In a haze, Qi Jianyi observed a young girl who mirrored her own appearance. Yet, deep down, she understood that this girl was not her; she was the original Qi Jianyi, the one from the other world.

This original Qi Jianyi had just awakened, her eyes wide with desperation as she frantically paced her room, whispering fervently about her longing to be the Qi Jianyi she had read about—the version that lived in her dreams.

As Qi Jianyi watched, she felt a strange mix of empathy and sorrow. The young teenager was gradually transforming before her eyes, her innocent hope morphing into a grim determination. The glow of innocence began to fade, replaced by a fierce intensity.

Finally, the teen’s gaze landed on her laptop, and she murmured, "Should I write a novel about this world?"

Qi Jianyi’s breath hitched as she gasped, bewildered. She was entranced, unable to look away as the original Qi Jianyi began to type. Each word flowed like a stream, forming a narrative that would soon shape destinies.

Day turned to night, and night back to day as time slipped away unnoticed. Qi Jianyi was transfixed, caught in the magnetic pull of her past self’s creativity. The familiar sight of the original Qi Jianyi, lost in her thoughts, stirred a deep sense of recognition within her.

Then, the teen paused, a victorious smile spreading across her face, a look of satisfaction that was achingly familiar to Qi Jianyi.

"What name should I use?" the teen pondered aloud.

"Let’s put something that Qi Jianyi likes so she would notice this novel. Didn’t she say she wanted to name her son ’Xuanhe’?"

With a final flourish, the teen typed her last words:

Written by, Xuanhe.