Running Over The Head Of My Ex [Rebirth]

Chapter 106 [Extra 1]

It Was Already March.

It seemed that the lingering chill of the harsh winter still remained. Zhuo Zhiwei had retired from the entertainment industry eleven years ago, and now, without any concealment, even if she walked down the street, no one would recognize her.

Perhaps it was because she had become too extremely thin. Standing at 1.68 meters tall, she weighed less than eighty pounds. Her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes lacked spirit, making her appear like a walking corpse—completely different from who she once was.

A sudden, fine chill touched her face. Zhuo Zhiwei silently looked up at the sky and extended her hand to catch a few pristine snowflakes.

“It’s snowing…” she murmured.

Today, she was going to see He Qingqi. She couldn’t help but lower her head, pressed her lips together, and showed a faint smile. “A timely snow promises a bountiful year, a good omen.” She suddenly recalled that on the day He Qingqi died, there had been a heavy rain. That was eleven years ago—how many people could still remember events from eleven years prior? Zhuo Zhiwei didn’t know.

People in the supergroup came and went, disbanded and scattered. Every day, only a dozen people checked in, and she was always the first.

Sleepless Nights

Unable to sleep, every time she closed her eyes, she saw an endless, deep red pool of blood. In the blood, a person had fallen, spewing blood in large gulps. Her eyeballs seemed about to burst, gazing into a hazy mist, making muffled sounds, yet unable to utter a single word. The madness in her eyes cycled repeatedly in her dreams.

Zhuo Zhiwei stared in astonishment, tears flowing uncontrollably. Her heart felt as if someone was tightly gripping it, the pain making it almost impossible to breathe.

That person was He Qingqi, who had died eleven years ago. She was also her unchanging dream.

They had first met on a talent show. At that time, she was trapped in a nightmare from which she couldn’t escape. He Qingqi was like a savior descending from the heavens, arrogantly lifting her chin, looking down on her with a hint of childish naivety in her eyes, yet brave and dazzling in her actions.

She had never met such a pure person, and she couldn’t help but be somewhat mesmerized. She had saved her from a man, then grabbed her hand, and together they ran wildly down an empty corridor. Her heart skipped a beat, suddenly recalling the youthful feelings many had told her about.

Unfortunately, everything seemed to be driven by duty. He Qingqi didn’t seem to appreciate her gestures of goodwill and closeness. Her slightly furrowed brows and the disdain in her tone made her hesitant.

The courage she had finally mustered was extinguished, and Zhuo Zhiwei’s heart grew cold. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes flickering between light and dark, choosing to watch her from afar.

She watched her make films, announce her marriage, and laugh like a young woman with pure, clear eyes, showing affection to her wife—she envied that image.

However, Fang Xuan Yao’s response was not enthusiastic. She remained aloof, like a queen. Someone as proud as He Qingqi was willing to bow her head in submission. In that instant, Zhuo Zhiwei frowned. If He Qingqi loved her, she would never have acted that way. But then she wondered, why did she have this feeling?

He Qingqi had been married for a long time yet always remained true to herself, keeping herself pure. Unlike her biological father, who already had a family and children but still tried to involve her mother…

Later, they became friends, and He Qingqi showed her a dazzling smile. In that moment, she was stunned, her heart racing uncontrollably as long-suppressed desires surged forth. She had finally found the answer and then fell into deep self-loathing.

“Well, as many have said, like mother, like daughter. It’s like a cycle—a mistress’s daughter falling in love with a married woman.”

Zhuo Zhiwei sat dazedly on her bed, hugging her legs, pulling back the curtains, and gazing at the serene night sky. She couldn’t sleep again; the stars hadn’t even blinked at her.

She thought perhaps the only difference between her and her mother was that she could restrain herself, watching that person from afar without disturbing her.

But Zhuo Zhiwei was never as unambitious as she seemed. She wasn’t a saint and had her own dark side. Countless times, she dreamed that He Qingqi could no longer endure Fang Xuan Yao’s indifference, turned her love to her, and then divorced Fang Xuan Yao. In the dreams, she was happy, experiencing a secret, immoral thrill, tinged with shame.

She opened her eyes, feeling a chill on her cheeks, her eyes filled with unprecedented calmness. She thought she couldn’t continue like this.

At twenty-eight, she had completely severed ties with them. Before leaving, she had asked He Qingqi a question about her own background. The answer wasn’t what she wanted.

If even He Qingqi couldn’t accept herself, who would? Her parents? Her fans?

Zhuo Zhiwei gazed at the clear moonlight, her eyes dull as she blinked slowly. Sadness overwhelmed her, two tears uncontrollably streamed down her face, yet she dared not show any signs in front of her, not even daring to wipe her tears. That was her final line and her dignity.

In the end, she said, “I’m out.”

And so, she truly rolled out of that person’s world.

Until one day, Zhuo Zhiwei received a phone call. She thought it was a dream—He Qingqi pressed against her, her heated kisses covering every inch of her skin. She tightly embraced her, hiding her face in her arms, yet felt an urge to cry.

She indulged herself in the immoral dream, suppressing her voice, feeling both shame and joy as she called out the name of the person she loved for the first time.

“He Qingqi…”

She thought it was a beautiful dream, but later realized it wasn’t. It was her immoral retribution, but it had fallen upon the entirely innocent He Qingqi.

Flashes of light bombarded her, and her eyes hurt. He Qingqi protected her but couldn’t protect herself. She was stunned, putting on her clothes as if something monstrous lurked behind her, and fled the room without looking back.

All that remained was the watch she had worn for over a decade. Zhuo Zhiwei looked at the watch for a long time with indifferent eyes, sighed, and eventually tucked it into her pocket.

She thought she had found an excuse to say goodbye to He Qingqi, but she never got to use it again. The person first said, “You can throw it away.” Later, she added, “If you need anything, you can seek help from the He family.”

Zhuo Zhiwei knew Fang Xuan Yao had done this and felt immense pity for He Qingqi’s plight. However, after this incident, her stagnant heart was somehow stirred.

He Qingqi was no longer married. They had done the most intimate things in the world. Even though Zhuo Zhiwei knew very well that it was the effect of drugs, she couldn’t help but hope. She wanted to try again. But first, she needed to clear their names.

Zhuo Zhiwei couldn’t help but scoff. Her courage had been bought with He Qingqi’s blood. If possible, she would rather that person be happy.

After waiting for half a year, when she saw her again, only He Qingqi’s lifeless body remained. After their discussion, they decided to freeze her body with liquid nitrogen, hoping to wait until the day He Qingqi could be resurrected.

However, He Dongche and Grandma He couldn’t endure the pain of losing their white-haired loved one and passed away within two years. The deceased were gone, but the living still had to continue their lives. People gradually forgot about He Qingqi, and only a few still remembered her in this world.

She simply withdrew from the industry, invested her savings in buying property, occasionally wrote songs, and lived a life neither exciting nor dull.

Zhuo Zhiwei closed her eyes, adjusted her coat, and though so much time had passed, the scene still felt like it happened just yesterday. She blinked, suffocating regret surged like wild grass, squeezing her heart with a sense of weightlessness as if falling from a height. Her hands trembled uncontrollably.

If only she had been braver back then, persistently pursuing He Qingqi, desperately trying to make her presence felt in front of her, maybe everything that followed wouldn’t have happened. What did dignity matter? What about her boundaries? Even if she was treated as a shameless woman, so what?

All she wanted was for He Qingqi to be alive…

Tears filled Zhuo Zhiwei’s eyes as she looked around anxiously. The vast world seemed to have no place for her.

Why had so much time passed…

Unable to hold back, she covered her cheeks, tears slipping through her fingers. She squatted down, desperately calling her name in a broken voice, utterly collapsing.

“When will you ever come back?”

Passersby consciously left a space for her, looking strangely at the woman weeping uncontrollably on the street, fearing they might be tainted by her sorrow.

Feeling the ebb and flow of people, Zhuo Zhiwei gradually calmed her emotions. Her throat slightly tightened, and she stood up as if nothing had happened, her eyes empty and silent, head bowed as she walked forward. It was as if the person who had been crying there wasn’t her at all.

She thought perhaps that person would never return, and everything was just their hopeless longing.

For so many years, she had long been accustomed to drifting between hope and despair.

Zhuo Zhiwei was somewhat absent-minded, gently rubbing the watch on her wrist with her fingertips. Her brows trembled, yet her eyes were filled with a helpless tenderness, as if He Qingqi was right beside her.

Her heart struggled in pain, but her resolve grew stronger. Closing her eyes, her lips trembled, and with utmost gentleness and affection, she pressed a kiss onto the watch.

“Even if you don’t come back, I can wait for you forever.”

Zhuo Zhiwei slipped her hand into her coat pocket, her face once again cold and indifferent. Gracefully, she stepped forward towards He Qingqi’s grave. Not long after, her phone in her pocket suddenly vibrated. Zhuo Zhiwei glanced down, and her previously calm eyes were suddenly filled with panic and hope.

Desperately wanting to cry, fearing she might hear bad news—after all, this research had been ongoing for a century, requiring substantial financial support. The researchers might give up if they saw no light at the end of the tunnel.

But if that happened, it would cut off the only reason she had to live in this world.

There was also a faint glimmer of hope—perhaps He Qingqi could awaken?

Zhuo Zhiwei’s trembling fingers nervously pressed the answer button. Pretending to stay calm, she cleared her throat, but her voice couldn’t help but quiver:

“Hello, this is Zhuo Zhiwei.”