Chapter 14 - Deeply In Love With You [Quick Transmigration]

Translator's Note:

Hello, I hope you've all been doing well. I have decided to pick up a second Quick Transmigration novel. This time, the gong is the MC and I hope you appreciate this novel as much as I do.

Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

And, as I said before, if you wish to read ahead, you can head over to my Patreon to get early access to all the translated chapters, or puchase advanced chapters on Gumroad. (40% discount code: DILWY)

Rainy Day

 

 

Ordering too much ended exactly as expected—there were leftovers. Zong Que carried the takeout bags with him as he and Lin Heng parted ways at the subway.

 

"Don't forget to put it in the fridge when you get back. With this heat, it'll spoil fast if you leave it out." Lin Heng waved goodbye.

 

"Alright." Zong Que confirmed his route and turned in the opposite direction.

 

There was no fridge at his place. His grandmother liked to cook and eat everything fresh in one go—it was more hygienic and saved electricity.

 

Even in the sweltering heat of summer, there was no air conditioning—just an old electric fan that only ran at midday. At night, his grandmother wouldn't even turn that on.

 

Fortunately, the old house had excellent shade. Even on the hottest days, it stayed much cooler than elsewhere.

 

"Grandma, I'm home." Zong Que pushed the door open. His grandmother was lounging in a wicker chair, gently fanning herself, not a bead of sweat on her.

 

"Oh, Xiao Que, you're back already? You walk so softly, I didn't even hear you come in." She opened her half-closed eyes, joy lighting her gaze. "Have you eaten? Is it hot out? Let me turn the fan on for you."

 

"I've eaten." Zong Que placed the food bag on the table, then went into his room to drop off his backpack and retrieve his wallet.

 

"I just bought a watermelon today—been chilling it in water. Want some now?" As she spoke, she walked in cradling a perfectly round watermelon in her arms.

 

"I just ate. Let's have it a bit later." Zong Que opened his wallet and pulled out a thousand yuan, handing it to her. "This is the school subsidy for this month."

 

"Again?" The old woman, taken aback, set down the watermelon, clearly unsure what to do. "Can your school really afford to give out money like this?"

 

"It's only for poor students with good grades. I ranked eleventh this time," Zong Que replied.

 

"Even better than last time—that's wonderful." She wiped the water from her hands and accepted the money carefully. "Did you keep some for yourself?"

 

"Mm, I did."

 

"Good." She tucked the money away. "Such a blessing to have good grades. I'll save this for you, for when you start college."

 

"No need. If I do well on the entrance exams, there'll be a scholarship—maybe even tens of thousands." Zong Que said. "You should use this to eat something nice."

 

"That much?!" She was clearly stunned. "Well, that's great news. But still, better to save it. It never hurts to be prepared. And your dad… well, anyway. Your recent improvement—was it thanks to that class monitor of yours?"

 

"Mm." Zong Que chose to ignore her subtle change of topic.

 

"He's a good kid. You should really thank him properly," she said.

 

"Mm," Zong Que agreed softly.

 

"If we save a bit more, maybe we can get you an air conditioner for your room. Summer like this must be awful." She smiled. "Now go rest a bit. Oh, what's this you brought back?"

 

"A burger." Zong Que bent down and opened the food bag. The chicken nuggets were long gone—just the untouched burger remained.

 

"That thing they show on TV? I remember you used to beg for it all the time when you were little." Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

 

Zong Que looked at her curious face and asked, "Want to try it? We don't have a fridge, so it'll go bad if we leave it out. I'm full."

 

"All right, I'll have a bite." She chuckled.

 

The summer sun baked the earth mercilessly. Even without looking straight at it, the glare off the ground was blinding. Yet inside the house, it was calm and cool. The wrappings were tossed in the trash, and the freshly cut watermelon brought a refreshing taste of summer.

 

Maybe it was just too hot that day—later that night, a few sudden claps of thunder rolled through the sky, and rain came pouring down, shattering the heavy, stuffy air. It thundered and poured all night long.

 

By morning, the rain had stopped. Puddles and damp streets bore silent witness to the night's storm—it hadn't been a dream. And the temperature had indeed dropped, making everything feel noticeably cooler.

 

This time, Zong Que wasn't heading out for an investment meeting—he was entering a restaurant with private dining rooms.

 

"Room 112," he told the hostess.

 

"Right this way," she said with a polite smile.

 

The private room was spacious. When Zong Que pushed the door open, a man in a tank top was scarfing down a plate of fried noodles. The cold air from the AC blew steadily, yet the man was still dripping with sweat.

 

The door closed behind him. The man finished chewing, looked up, and gave Zong Que a once-over with a grin. "You're the one looking for a bodyguard?"

 

Zong Que took a seat beside him. "Go ahead and finish eating. We'll talk after."

 

The man, arms solid with muscle, shrugged and said, "Sure." Then he bowed his head and continued eating.

 

He ate fast—half a plate of noodles disappeared in just a few bites. Then he downed a glass of water in a few gulps, grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth, and said, "Sorry, hadn't eaten before I came. Got real hungry while waiting. Name's Zheng Jiang—just discharged from the military."

 

"Zong Que." He reached out and shook the man's hand.

 

Their hands clasped. Zheng Jiang raised an eyebrow. "You're not even of age yet, are you? What's a kid like you doing hiring a bodyguard? And not through a legit company either."

 

"Formal security firms won't accept money from a minor." Zong Que said flatly.

 

Even if he was more than capable of supporting himself, there were still many inconveniences tied to his age.

 

"Fair enough. So—who's threatening you? You better spell it out now, so I can be fully prepared." Zheng Jiang asked.

 

"There's no immediate threat," Zong Que said. "I just need you to keep an eye on someone, to make sure he doesn't get into any danger."

 

He had done his homework on Zheng Jiang—an excellent track record in the military, decorated multiple times, with scars from real combat. His discharge had nothing to do with misconduct; rather, it was because the elderly at home needed care, and as the only son, he couldn't stay away indefinitely. Working as a bodyguard offered more flexible hours.

 

"Who is it?" Zheng Jiang asked.

 

"This is his file." Zong Que handed over a brief dossier. On it was a photo of Lin Heng and a simple background summary.

 

Also a student, even a classmate. Zheng Jiang glanced at the file, then at the boy sitting next to him. He looked young—about the same age as the green recruits he'd trained with. But those kids had been loud, full of mischief and reckless energy, always up to some prank the moment they had free time.

 

This one, though, was different. His features were sharp, with a hint of defiance, yet his eyes were calm—far too calm.

 

Zheng Jiang had stared into the eyes of killers before. Most people couldn't hold his gaze. But this boy looked at him with unruffled stillness, as if nothing in the world could truly disturb the waters of his heart. That kind of calm didn't belong to someone his age—either he had seen too much or matured too fast.

 

If it were anyone else, Zheng Jiang would have taken special notice. But this was his employer.

 

He stood up. "Got it. I'll start today. Contact me anytime."

 

Twenty thousand a month—he intended to do the job flawlessly.

 

"Take care," Zong Que said as he stood to see him off.

 

[Host, the target has gone to the hospital again,] 1314 reported.

 

[He didn't deliver the notes yesterday?] Zong Que asked, getting up.

 

[Huh? How did you know?] 1314 was certain it hadn't said a word about that.

 

[He wouldn't go bother Liao Yan without a reason.] Zong Que left the private room. The server told him the bill had already been taken care of. When he stepped outside, the sky was gray and heavy. A light rain had started again, veiling the entire city in a misty, ash-colored shroud.

 

…

 

"Sorry about yesterday, something came up. I'm only bringing it over now." Lin Heng handed the notes to Liao Yan.

 

Liao Yan took them, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "It's alright. Thank you."

 

Lin Heng smiled and turned to Liao Yan's mother. "Auntie, how's your recovery going?"

 

"The doctor says I'm doing well. Should be discharged before long." Liao Yan's mother beamed at him. "You really didn't need to bring anything. Have you eaten yet? Let YanYan take you out for a bite."

 

"I've eaten, no need to trouble yourselves. This is just a little something from me." Lin Heng smiled. "I've got something to do on my end, so I'll be heading out. Please rest well."

 

"Alright, alright. YanYan, walk him out," she said, waving.

 

Liao Yan stood up to see him out, but at the door, Lin Heng gently stopped him. "I'll go from here. No need to walk me out."

 

"You… yesterday…" Liao Yan blurted out, watching his retreating figure.

 

"Mm?" Lin Heng paused and looked back.

 

"It's nothing. Thank you," Liao Yan said.

 

"You're welcome." Lin Heng turned and walked away.

 

The hospital was still bright, but outside, under the curtain of rain, the world had dimmed into a haze. Cars moved slowly in and out of the parking lot. Lin Heng reached out and caught a few cold droplets in his palm before retreating to the shelter. He glanced at his ride-hailing app—there were dozens of cars ahead of him in the queue. The estimated wait time was at least two hours. Must be a traffic jam somewhere. Even calling a taxi wouldn't help.

 

The subway station wasn't far, but walking there in this rain would leave him drenched.

 

He tilted his head back, staring at the sky. It seemed he'd have to wait for the rain to stop. Not the worst thing—just a rare, idle moment to quietly enjoy the rain.

 

People passed by—some with umbrellas, some getting into cars. Though it was June, the chill began to set in after standing for a while.

 

Just as Lin Heng was debating whether to wait inside, a dark canopy cut across his view. He didn't think much of it at first, assuming it was just someone walking past—until a familiar voice brushed against his ear.

 

"Didn't bring an umbrella?"

 

He turned his head. The warmth from the figure beside him seemed to chase away the cold that had seeped into his bones.

 

"What are you doing here?!"

 

The boy beside him didn't have the broad shoulders of a grown man, but the calm that settled in his eyes slowly thawed something in Lin Heng's chest—until it grew hot, burning. His heart beat so loud it echoed in his ears.

 

"What are you doing here?" Zong Que asked in return, not answering the question.

 

His tone was neutral, not at all confrontational, but Lin Heng quickly came to his senses and replied, "How about we both don't ask?"

 

"Alright. I'll walk you to the subway," said Zong Que.

 

"Thanks." Lin Heng smiled, but a gust of wind made the hairs on his arm stand on end, and he shivered.

 

The next moment, a warm hand gave his arm a light squeeze. Before he could fully react to the sudden heat of that touch, Zong Que handed him the umbrella.

 

"Hold this for me."

 

"Oh…" Lin Heng took it, watching as the other boy began to remove his jacket. "Won't you be cold?"

 

"Not really. My grandma made me wear it." Zong Que handed it to him. "Put it on. This kind of weather, it's easy to catch a cold."

 

"Thanks." Lin Heng slipped on the jacket. It was still warm from Zong Que's body, faintly scented with soap, and it melted the last of the chill from his skin.

 

Rain fell in fine, silvery threads. The ripples in Lin Heng's heart mirrored the ones on the ground—gentle, yet endlessly stirring.

 

"Watch your step. There's a puddle." Zong Que's voice had a cool edge.

 

Lin Heng was pulled aside. He looked at him, a little dazed, then smiled. "Sorry, I spaced out."

 

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