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TL: Moonlight_revolt
Editor: CYE
Proofreader: Chibi_lazy
Editor: CYE
Proofreader: Chibi_lazy
Was it a classmate?
The dress and hairstyle of the other party were unfamiliar to her, and her face was covered by a mask. He Xing had no clue who it was. Although she couldn’t say that her relationship with her classmates was very close, she was sure that she hadn't offended anyone.
Was it because of Jiang Yingjing?
She had lived well for the last twenty years, but she died right after confessing to Jiang Yingjing. It must have had something to do with Jiang Yingjing! There were so many girls who liked him. It was entirely possible that there were some perverts who were that crazy about him to that extent...
He Xing's mind was a mess.
Her mother shouted from the kitchen, "Xiao Xing, have you woken up? Go wash up and come over for dinner quickly.”
He Xing broke out of her daze and jumped out of bed. She yelled out of the bedroom, "Okay, I'll be there in a moment!"
He Xing spent the rest of the day in a dilemma, mulling over the situation. She didn't know what to say when she ran into Jiang Yingjing. She had already said all the things that shouldn’t have been said. It would be a waste of time to go again. After a long inner struggle, He Xing didn't keep the appointment in the afternoon after school.
On campus, students walked past He Xing in twos and threes.
She lifted her head and looked up sadly at the rooftop shrouded by the sunset.
She had actually stood up to her male god, which was something she couldn't even think about before. But in order to survive, she had no choice but to do so.
She walked down the busy street on high alert. She'd look back suddenly from time to time. Her eyes had a touch of madness, scaring the passers-by behind her. She wanted to see whether the person who killed her was following her, but there were so many strangers in the street, so how could she pick out the culprit in such a big crowd? He Xing analyzed everyone suspiciously. The more she thought, the more afraid she became. Suddenly, she saw the roadside police station.
An idea appeared in He Xing’s mind with a “ding” sound.
Why didn't she think of calling the police? They would surely protect her!
He Xing rushed into the police station. She looked like every other ordinary student, wearing a white shirt neatly tucked into a plaid skirt with her long hair flowing over her shoulders. She didn’t resemble a troublemaker in the least. The police officer took her seriously and thought that she had been bullied.
"What's the matter, little lady?"
He Xing felt extremely secure in the police station. She complained to the officer, "Someone wants to murder me!"
Murder? The situation sounded so serious that the other police officers also gathered around anxiously and asked, "Who wants to murder you? What happened?"
He Xing was stunned. There were many thoughts running through her mind, but she didn't know where to start. "I don't know her... I don't know who she is..."
The police officers exchanged glances with each other. "Then how do you know that they’re going to kill you?"
"She killed me several times before! It's her every time! "
“???” The police officers exchanged glances with each other once more. "You mean to say that you’re already dead?"
He Xing nodded vigorously. Now that she had a chance to pour out all her troubles, she was a little excited. "Yes! I’m dead! But I wake up every day feeling just fine and then get killed at night! I’ve been stuck in this loop for several days now. I can't stand it anymore! "
The office went completely silent.
One of the officers reached out to touch her forehead. "Little girl, are you sick?"
He Xing took a step back and looked at the policeman doubtfully. "I'm not sick! It's true! "
Another younger policeman patted his colleague on the shoulder, beckoning him to not irritate the little girl. Then, he smiled kindly and said, "This brother knows you’re not lying. What about your mother, can I call her to ask about the situation? "
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Translator’s Other Works:
Pampering You Even More
Quick Transmigration: Snatching Golden Fingers
You Treat Me As If I Have A Sickness
The Bowl Of Seven Emotions
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